The Lost Gods

by Brickley, Horace

  …

  Jesse ran toward Adam and kicked a reanimate that was reaching for Adam’s back. A piercing scream disrupted the scene. Adam covered his ears and the screaming thing rammed into him. He fell flat on his side and his head slammed into the pavement. The creature dived on top of him and raked its claws across Adam's neck and face.

  After the scream let out, a reanimate grabbed Jesse from behind. It bit down on his shoulder, but its teeth could not pierce his thick jacket. He grabbed the creature’s head hard, twisted his body, and threw the creature over his shoulder. He stood back up and caught sight of the screaming thing clawing at Adam's face and throat. A shiver ran over his body. Jesse charged toward the creature and planted a foot in its side. It flew off of Adam and rolled onto its back. Jesse jumped over and straddled it. He pummeled it with his fists. The fierce thing scratched at his jacketed arms, tearing the fabric, and kicked him in the balls. Jesse dropped on top of creature and clenched its face with both hands. His fury overpowered the nausea from the low blow he had absorbed. He let out a scream of his own and wrenched its neck. Its writhing body went limp after a loud snap. Jesse stood up and stomped its skull into the pavement for good measure. Without looking down, Jesse held out his hand for Adam: waiting for him to take it.

  “Get up, man,” said Jesse. He looked around. Dozens of reanimates were closing in, and he had lost sight of the second screaming thing. Jesse looked down and said, “We've got to get out of here.”

  Jesse looked down and locked onto Adam's empty stare. Blood had formed a thick pool under Adam's neck. Jesse saw Adam's corpse for what it was. Just a body lying on the asphalt without anything left in it that was once his best friend. There was no goodbye and no inspiring deathbed speech. He was simply gone: his fire extinguished. In that instant, Jesse changed on the molecular level. A surge went through him and he skipped denial and grief and went straight into unbridled rage.

  A large creature exited the gate of the fort. The padlock Jesse and Adam had secured the gate with dangled, broken. The thing was wearing some kind of ornate skirt and a cuirass, like it was a long-lost legionnaire. It had on the same copper helmet that the first screaming creature wore. Its white-within-black eyes tracked Jesse. It bolted forward. Jesse planted his feet and raised his hands to chest level. Once it neared him, he shot his hands forward and clasped its neck. He wheeled his left leg backward in a circle and used the creature's forward momentum to throw it off balance. It landed flat on its face. Jesse dashed over to it. Without a pause, it pushed itself to its feet and whipped around. Jesse had already closed the distance. Before it could attack him, Jesse cupped the back of its head and drove its skull downward into his rising knee. His knee collided with its face, producing a loud, deep thud. He gripped its jaw and hair in his large hands and cranked as hard as he could. Its neck snapped and Jesse let the dead thing collapse onto the pavement. He left it in a heap on the ground and went through the broken gate to the fort.

  As he entered the fort, heads turned and jaws dropped with an unknowing desire. He hoisted himself onto the platform and opened the supply chest. Jesse flipped the lid open and grabbed a claw hammer and long screwdriver. He dropped down onto the asphalt next to a thin reanimate with an oversized forehead and a stringy postmortem mullet. The sorry creature swung its emaciated arm at Jesse. He ducked under the slow swipe and stabbed the screwdriver into its armpit. Its black shirt had a design depicting a metallic angel riding a razor-wheeled motorcycle with Painkiller in bold print above it. He bludgeoned the creature in the temple with his hammer. Its skull caved in and the former metal head dropped to the ground. Jesse yanked the screwdriver out of its armpit.

  A noise trap went off.

  A handful of creatures remained inside the fort. Jesse dealt with them in a similar fashion, until all the reanimates around the asphalt courtyard of the fort lay strewn about like drunken party guests. Jesse returned to the trunk and grabbed some cans of food and a gym bag. He filled the bag and put the hammer in his belt and the screwdriver in his jacket pocket. His hands shook as he slung the gym bag over his shoulder.

  He climbed up the ladder and grabbed his sleeping bag. He saw Adam’s bag still open from their last morning in the fort. The back of his head tingled.

  Jesse walked out of the fort and over to Adam. He bent down, closed Adam's eyes, crossed his arms over his chest, and picked up Adam’s body. He slung him over his shoulder.

  Slow and encumbered, Jesse headed to the inlet. He did not think, speak, or cry. His muscles trembled from the surplus of adrenaline, and his teeth bore the strain of his clenched jaw. Exhausted, Jesse arrived at the small beach at the waterfront with Adam’s body. He took his body to the edge of the water. Jesse kept his back straight as he lowered himself to one knee. He cupped his hand behind Adam's neck and laid him on the wet sand. Jesse knew no words with which to send Adam into the afterlife, an afterlife he now knew existed. He buried Adam by hand. The morning tide would carry Adam into the depths of the inlet.

  When he finished patting down the last handful of cold sand, Jesse pulled out his sleeping bag and lay down on the ground next to Adam. He did not cry at first, but when he did, it grabbed him by his stomach. Sorrow bent him in half, and he began to sob in strained breaths and deep gasps. Snot ran from his nose and he cried low and hard. He muttered nonsense to himself until his eyes swelled shut and he passed out. He slept alone and unprotected for the first time in months, without a care for his personal safety, as his childhood friend slept forever next to him.

  Six

  Escape

  Jesse floated in darkness until sunlight dissolved the black shroud of comforting nothingness. A calming sight of waves breaking on yellow sand greeted him. The beach lacked the rocks and shells of a typical Washington beach. He tilted his head back and stared into the cloudless sky. It was still winter, but the weather was balmy. He searched the beach, and found only an abandoned lifeguard tower standing solitary on the vast stretch of coastline. A concrete barrier hugged the perimeter of the beach. Beyond the barrier were two-story bungalows and small shops. Towering above the structures was a huge wooden roller coaster: The Giant Dipper. He knew at once that he was in San Diego at Mission Beach. It was the same beach Jesse, his wrestling team, and Adam had traveled to during Spring Break of their senior year. They drove down in a small caravan in search of the quintessential vacation experience.

  Jesse wanted to see his friends tossing a football, or some women sunbathing: their glistening bodies only contained by thin strips of fabric. Yet, the beach was empty — an impossible sight on such a clear day. He walked along the water squinting, trying to catch sight of another person. The ocean water swept over his boots, soaking them. A strand of kelp clung to his jeans. He kicked it free.

  It was hot. His ratty, filthy clothes clung to his body. His face itched. He scratched his cheek. His fingers tangled in the knotted wires of his beard. A strand of his oily hair fell on his hand as he scratched away. The bubble of happiness was broken: nothing had changed. He turned away from the beach and stumbled through the shifting sands and onto the boardwalk.

  The stalls and shops were boarded up and empty. No seagulls flew overhead, no dogs were trotting around with tongues wagging and saliva dripping, and no young lovers were trying to convince each other to go the next step or pay for another expensive carnival game. He stopped and closed his eyes. Sweat ran down his forehead. Lithe fingers wrapped around his jaw, one of which rested on his lower lip. Another hand settled on his flat stomach. Jesse tensed. The scent of lavender and sandalwood filled his nostrils and he relaxed. It was her.

  “There's nothing left for you up there,” her voice was a thick balm rubbed over his sore muscles. She ran her fingers down his shirt, the razor nails slicing the fabric as they drove down his torso. The shirt fell away, taking the jacket with it to the concrete. She tore away his belt and his pants dropped. The sea breeze met with his sweat-soaked skin and cooled him down. Her fingers massaged his abdomen and ch
est. He closed his eyes.

  “Come south and I'll show you what you really are,” she said.

  He lowered his head and let his hands fall to his sides. She turned him around like a child. He raised his head and opened his eyes. The sun blinded him. He could not make out her face, only an outline. She stood as tall as he did.

  “Why should I come here?” he said. He thought about the distance and all that lay between Silverdale and San Diego. How many creatures waited for him on the long journey between Washington and Southern California?

  “I am waiting for you,” she said. “That is reason enough.”

  The sun glinted off her face. All he could see was her long flowing hair and something that looked like a crown atop her head. A giant wave came in and submerged them both. She turned into a shimmering blur and slipped away, far out of sight, in an instant. He tried to swim upwards, but could not move. Ahead, he saw a white blur coming at him. It was not the lady in the sun.

  Its skin was pale as bleached bones; its dark hair was wild and tangled. The long tendrils of hair spread out in the water like the tentacles of an octopus. A shrill noise cut through the muddled thrum of the ocean. Bluish hands grabbed him and she moved closer. She raked her long nails across his cheek. Her maw opened wider than any normal mouth should. Jesse struggled but her iron grasp held him in place. He sucked in a lungful of seawater.

  …

  A distant scream woke Jesse and put him into an instant panic. He scrambled to his feet and grabbed all his belongings. He jammed his sleeping bag into his gym bag, and grasped his hammer. He crouched down low and checked his surroundings. The beach was still and empty. The bushes that divided the beach and the small green hills above were too small to hide in. He stayed crouched and still, not knowing where to go. He wondered if his dreams were just that, or if they were a message from something greater. He could stay in Silverdale, alone with the remaining dead, clearing them out one by one over the next few weeks. Or he could strike out south and see if there was any substance to the troubling dreams. Another scream broke through the morning fog, and yet another scream followed from a different direction. The chorus of unsettling, guttural screams pushed Jesse toward a decision.

  He left the beach and walked on Bayshore Drive, which bordered the waterfront. Jesse spotted a reanimate milling around in an alleyway parallel to Bayshore, and let out a quick gasp. It turned and faced him and dropped its jaw. It hustled toward Jesse, never taking its dead eyes off him. He strengthened his grip on the hammer and tensed his muscles. He took a step forward. Jesse decided against engaging the creature, and he cut south and ran. The creature hobbled after him in a slow pursuit.

  Jesse took a left on Washington Avenue. Not wanting to tangle with the screaming creatures, he headed for the pier. Jesse ran until he saw the old wooden pier. Its supports were dotted with colonies of barnacles. He checked over his shoulder to see if any of them had followed him. He saw no signs of life or walking death among the abandoned buildings and the greenbelt of the waterfront park. Jesse jogged along the thick, wet floorboards, only to find gas-powered boats overtaken by barnacles and the elements.

  He met back up with the creature in the waterfront park. It had shuffled all the way from the alleyway in hopes of a hot meal, only to receive a cold second death from Jesse. A single stroke of his hammer disconnected it from its second life. He stepped over it and caught sight of a pick-up truck, with an aluminum skiff in tow, in the parking lot adjacent to the waterfront park.

  He ran over and examined the truck. The driver's door was open. The interior reeked of mold and festering carnage, and the upholstery bedecked in tiny cubes of safety glass from the shattered window. Inside the glove box were things that had lost their purpose: registration papers, an insurance card, change, and a disposable camera. Jesse searched the bed of the truck for anything useful. In the bed was a stainless steel toolbox full of heavy tools, none of which he had a use for. He slid his hammer into the inside pocket of his jacket, and unhooked the skiff from the trailer hitch. Jesse undid the bungee cords holding the boat to the trailer. He used his screwdriver to remove the 15 horsepower engine from the boat. After months of trying to revive dead automobiles, Jesse had given up on internal combustion engines. Cold, wet weather and time had rendered all but the simplest of machines useless.

  He checked his bag and found the contents pathetic in the shadow of the coming winter and the journey south.

  Jesse flipped the boat over onto the asphalt. It had two small seats and a single-bladed metal oar. The skiff was too large to pick up, so he dragged it. The friction of aluminum on asphalt made a loud scraping sound.

  Jesse rested for a moment. After a few labored breaths, another scream filled the air. His ears rang. They were close. He grabbed the frame of the boat and pulled as hard as he could. He yanked the skiff and headed for the water. The beach was in sight, but there was still a football field worth of asphalt, weeds, and sand to cross. He pulled the skiff off of the asphalt and onto the greenbelt. He scanned the area and saw five creatures enter the north end of the parking lot. Jesse dragged the boat as fast as he could.

  One of the creatures walked over to the truck where Jesse had grabbed the boat. It looked around and drew in quick breaths through its nose. It studied at the boat trailer for a moment. Its head dropped and turned, following the thin line of disturbed gravel and metallic paint that ran from the trailer to the greenbelt. It gestured at the others. The creatures grouped together and followed the line of gravel. They walked for a few seconds focused on the ground until one looked up and saw the boat and Jesse. Its jaw distended and a supernatural scream exploded from its dead lungs. It ran with careless speed toward Jesse, and the others followed suit.

  When Jesse's boot met with sand, he dropped the skiff and ran behind it. He pushed from the rear and hurried toward the water. He could hear the creature's footfalls in the weeds and brush. He shoved the boat into the water and jumped into it. It swayed violently in the still water. Jesse grabbed an oar and sat down on the wet bench in the middle of the boat.

  The first creature ran into the water. Jesse paddled hard and drove the boat away from the beach. The creature was neck-high in water and still moving toward Jesse. Jesse pressed the oar against the creature's face and pushed off from it. It screamed. He felt a pop inside his ear and a warm fluid ran down the side of his head. After that, all he heard was a high-pitched din and a low hum.

  He paddled a few seconds on each side and switched to the other. The midsection of the boat was too wide to switch quickly from side to side, so Jesse moved up to the front seat and paddled from there. Over his shoulder, he saw the other things diving into the water. They disappeared into the murky depths. He knew they were still with him.

  Jesse paddled out into the inlet. His pace was slow and the wind was mild. He kept paddling until he could not lift the oar. He rested and let the boat drift. The boat moved at a crawl. It was too heavy and too slow to function as a rowboat. He felt safe in that moment, away from the hands of the creatures, but he knew he would not be able to get far in that vessel. As the sun reached its zenith, an idea came to Jesse: a kayak. With a kayak, he could row safely along the coastline. It would be slow going and exhausting, but he figured he could manage the journey.

  He wracked his mind for a place where he could find one in Silverdale. The only place he could remember was near the mall and a ways from the waterfront. Months ago, he and Adam did a full reconnaissance of downtown, noting each unmolested store on a hand-drawn map of the town. Silverdale had fallen fast, and the handful of initial survivors did not have much time to loot stores for supplies. Jesse and Adam had reaped the benefits of the quick demise of their hometown. The map was gone, but Jesse hoped the sporting goods store was one of those few that remained untouched.

  He turned the boat around with his paddle and aimed its bow at the part of the beach where he had buried Adam. It was a ways from the pier, but he felt confident that he would not run into the
screaming creatures.

  He heard a thud.

  A bluish hand grabbed the lip of the boat. That side of the boat dipped below the surface and dark water rushed in. Jesse swung the metal oar at the hand. The blade of the oar sliced off three of its fingers, leaving the only thumb and index finger. The creature emerged from the water. Its braided white hair soaked and dotted with green mush. Jesse swung at its skull. He missed and the blade of the oar struck the creature in the shoulder. Unfazed, the thing grabbed his ankle and tugged. Jesse fell back and hit his head: darkness followed.

  …

  Jesse rushed back into consciousness. He awoke submerged in dark, freezing waters.

  A strong hand dug its nails into the meat of his arm. He grabbed the hand and stripped it off him. A two-fingered hand clamped onto his neck. Jesse reached forward into the dark water. His fingers grasped only seawater. He kicked ahead into the dark abyss. His boot collided with something. Jesse swam upward. He reached the surface and sucked in the frigid air. Hands latched onto his right boot. He kicked his free and swam away. He paddled in a circle and until he spotted the beach. The icy cold of the water clung to his chest and made him work for each shallow breath. He could feel the creature behind him as he swam to land.

  He swam until his hands met with sand. He scrambled to his feet, soaked and shivering. He whipped around and waited for the creature. It emerged from the water. Its maroon robes were drenched and covered in mud and kelp. It charged Jesse. He ducked under its arms and locked his hands together behind its back. He swiveled his hips to the left and brought the creature down. It grabbed the back of his head and tried to bite his throat. Jesse postured up and controlled one of its wrists. He forced its wrist to the ground and slipped his other arm under the creature’s pinned arm. He cranked its arm hard until its shoulder popped. Jesse released its wrist and postured up again. The creature beat at his head with its two-fingered hand. He leaned back and brought an elbow down onto its chin. It swung its claws at his face. Jesse dodged the strike and elbowed the creature again. The impact radiated through his arm. He elbowed it with his other arm with all his might. Its still-working arm went limp. Jesse stood up and kicked some sand on its face.