Rory turned to Rachel, who was still nervously looking behind them with her breath coming hard and fast. Tears left shiny paths down her face that mixed with the blood running from a long scratch just below her left eye. It was a miracle she had managed to keep both of her flip-flops on.
“Hey, hey,” he wheezed. “Come on, take it easy. They’re gone.”
She turned to him with horror-stricken eyes and dropped her head into his bare chest, sobbing uncontrollably. His arms instinctively wrapped around her and gently squeezed - something he had dreamed about for the past three years. But not like this.
“Who’s gone?” Woody asked, getting to his bare feet and brushing dirt from his rear end in the speckled light.
“Shhhh!” Rory sneered, wiping sweat from his brow.
Rachel pushed away from Rory and threw up. He jumped back, narrowly avoiding the spray of red wine, hotdogs and brownies. She dry heaved as Rory rubbed her back, checking behind them every few seconds. Rachel stopped choking and spit into the dirt, resting her hands on wobbly knees, trying to catch her breath.
“Wow, she must really be wasted,” Woody snorted, his white necklace glowing even brighter than his skinny rump in the darkness. “I told ya we shouldn’t of had those shots at Doc’s.”
Rachel stood back up, her chest undulating like she had just gone through a haunted house and lived to tell. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked at Rory with bloodshot eyes. “What the hell where those things?” she asked grimly.
Woody’s face stiffened. “What things?”
Rory glanced behind them again. “I don’t know,” he said, turning back to his naked childhood friend.
Woody stared at them with his mouth hanging open. “Man, you guys shoulda never smoked that bud! You are so baked right now.”
Rachel tried pulling herself together. “Let’s just keep going.”
“What?” Woody laughed. “I just got my second wind and I am gonna pull Kate tonight, gangster!”
“Kate is dead, Woody!” Rachel snapped.
Woody jumped, his devilish grin quickly fading.
Rory shushed her, his eyes nervously roaming the surrounding woods. He rotated in full circles on the narrow deer path. Every silhouette of every tree trunk looked like one of those things, standing there watching them. Rory could see dozens of corpses surrounding them, trying to pick the best time to move in and close the circle. “We have to be quiet.”
Woody made a dry clicking sound when he swallowed. Cotton-mouth had set in. “You guys picked the wrong time to be messing with me. I haven’t used any hand-sanitizer yet.” He held his hands up and grinned.
“Woody, I swear to God we’re not messing with you,” Rory replied.
Woody began searching the treetops. “Wait a minute, am I on Scare Tactics? Where are the cameras?”
Rachel burst into tears again. “We have to get help,” she moaned, rubbing the gash on her cheek and wincing.
“We will,” Rory said.
“We don’t have any phones,” she cried.
Rory hesitated, his chest heaving. “Yes we do.”
Rachel took a deep breath that wheezed into her lungs, her eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”
“Mine is in the tent,” he replied, nodding back towards camp.
Rachel’s head slowly gravitated with the nod. “Those things are back there.”
Woody followed her anxious gaze around the trees. “You brought your phone?”
Rachel’s head snapped around one hundred and eighty degrees. “They could be everywhere,” she said so softly it was barely audible.
Woody grabbed Rory’s bicep and spun him around. “What is going on?” he asked sternly. The moonlight cut across his slender face turning his eyes into dark caves.
Rory took a deep breath and held it. “Something…came out of the water.”
A frown collapsed Woody’s face. “What the hell are you talking about? What came out of the water?”
Rory shook his head, the pain from the scratches covering his arms and legs beginning to register. “I don’t know. People.”
Woody’s head jerked back like someone had just slapped him. “People?” he said with a nervous laugh. “What people?”
“They’re dead,” Rachel sobbed.
Woody turned to her and sharpened his gaze. “Who’s dead?”
“All of them!” she screamed, sending an echo bouncing into the night. “They’re all dead! The things in the lake! Our friends! All dead!”
“Jesus Christ,” Rory hissed. “You are going to get us all killed.”
Woody passed them by and Rory latched onto his arm. “Where are you going?”
Woody shook him off. “I’m going to see what the hell is going on,” he said, continuing back down the path to the campsite.
Rory ran up and bear hugged him from behind, like that thing had done to Kate.
“Are you crazy? I’m naked!” Woody shrieked in horror, his arms pinned beneath Rory’s.
“You go back there and you will die,” Rory grunted through gritted teeth, struggling to maintain his hold. “We are not fucking around!”
Woody squirmed a little longer and then gave up. “Then tell me what is going on!”
“On the way back to the camp.”
Rachel’s face folded. “I’m not going back there,” she said gravely.
“All right?”
“Let me go, dude,” Woody said softly, anger brimming within each word he spoke.
“All right?” Rory repeated.
“All right!”
Rory released him and staggered backwards, ready to pounce on Woody again if he tried returning to camp. Rory didn’t blame him for being bone-headed right now. After all, no one could ever believe a story like this. But the last thing he was going to do was let Woody go waltzing naked back into camp, right into those things’ outstretched, mangled arms.
“We are not going back there,” Rachel repeated.
“We have to. The car keys and my phone are back there,” he told her, pointing in the direction of their campsite.
She shook her head with her mouth agape. “We can just walk to Doc’s.”
Rory put his hands on his hips. “That’s three miles around the bend.”
“So what?”
Woody laughed. “I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but if you think I’m walking three miles anywhere you’re nuts. I’m naked!”
“Shhhh!” Rachel and Rory hissed together.
A branch snapped around them but it was impossible to tell where it came from. The three stood like statues, waiting to hear footsteps that didn’t come.
Rory sighed, looking back towards camp and then in the opposite direction to where the cars were parked. It was a half mile hike to the small lot, which in the daylight wasn’t bad. At night, it would be a different story. The highway was another half a mile from there, maybe more, and without keys they weren’t going anywhere. Even if they did hike to the road, no one would be driving by at this time of night on a Monday. Doc’s was the closest place they could go for help, but Rory was sure those things would never let them make it that far on foot.
“Shit!” Rory kicked a pine tree’s low hanging branch, sending long pine cones skittering across a slick sheen of brown needles coating the ground below. He turned back to Rachel and Woody and exhaled a remorseful breath. “We have to go back.”
Chapter Seven
Thin smoke trails rose from the campfire and disappeared into the darkness. The fire had died down, cloaking the ghostly campsite in thick shadows. All three of their tents were still up and it was quiet. Too quiet.
“Where the hell is everyone?” Woody whispered, peeking through a blackberry bush on the edge of the clearing.
“You’re not serious?” Rory said, pulling back from the bush and crouching in the darkness.
“Just for the record, if you guys are fucking with me I’m going to be super pissed.”
Rachel and Rory swa
pped glances.
“I’m naked here,” Woody whispered. “And if my junk ends up on YouTube and then the Today show, my mom’s gonna have a heart attack.”
“All right, I’ll grab my phone from my tent first and then we’ll get your keys,” Rory said, ignoring him. “You stay right behind me.”
Rachel nodded in half-hearted agreement, her bottom lip quivering.
“If things go south, run like hell to the cars. We’ll figure something out later.” Rory took a deep breath and mopped sweat from his forehead. “Ready?”
They stared at him with wide eyes and thick pupils. He didn’t give them time to respond and eased out into the moonlit clearing.
“This is so messed up,” Rachel whimpered, clutching the back of Rory’s belt.
They held their breath and tiptoed to the tents, expecting someone - or something - to jump out from behind each tree and tent they passed. Rory shot his hand out, causing everyone to stop. The crickets and frogs called out into the night with an unsettling business as usual manner. The fire popped and Rachel inhaled sharply. Rory unzipped the blue tent next to them and peeked inside. It was clear of old people in fancy suits and ties so he crawled in and dug his phone from a charcoal-colored backpack. “Damn,” he mouthed, seeing he had zero bars. He grabbed a long Maglite lying on his sleeping bag and quickly slipped back out the flabby tent door.
“No signal,” he whispered grimly, pocketing the cell.
Rachel grimaced, quietly stomping a foot into the dirt.
“All right, go get your keys,” he said, nodding towards the campfire.
Woody looked to his crumpled shirts lying near the fire pit. “Why do I have to go?” he whispered.
Rory frowned. “Because they’re your keys.”
“Yeah, but this is your idea.”
“I don’t know which pocket they’re in.”
“The right pocket.”
“Front or back?”
“Front.”
Rory furrowed his brow further and looked around. “In that little hidden pocket or the normal one?”
“Oh for God’s sake,” Rachel moaned lightly, taking the initiative and heading for the shorts.
Rory and Woody swapped glances and were quick to follow. They crept closer to the fire; sitting ducks out in the open. Rachel’s flip-flop banged into an empty can of Icehouse. It clattered across the compressed dirt, seeming that much louder in the eerie quiet, and made them stop on cue. Rory tightened his sweaty grip on the black flashlight, its weight feeling good in his hand, and continued their crawl. He clicked on the light and swept its powerful beam across the campsite, seeing dead people who weren’t really there. Rachel’s wine glass was still lying on the ground, but shattered like someone had stepped on it during a Jewish wedding to confirm a new couple’s official ceremony into holy matrimony. Kate’s glass stood nearby, half full and untouched. The roving beam lit up Clutch’s John Deere hat with the Oakland Raiders colors. Their eyes followed the beam from Ashley’s crumpled sun dress to the water. It was black as coal and smooth as glass, reflecting the bright stars and moon above which had already shifted in the sky. His mind felt like it was spinning as fast as the earth itself.
“Got em,” Woody whispered, fishing his keys from the shorts.
Rory nodded and put a finger to his lips. Woody hurriedly slipped into his board shorts and red Adidas while Rory stepped around the picnic table with Rachel clinging to him like a leaf. He bent over and grabbed his t-shirt from the ground.
“Let’s get outta here,” she whispered, wide eyed and trembling.
“I agree,” Rory replied, pulling the shirt over his head and swinging the light around. “Check this out,” he said, walking closer to the water.
The three friends crossed the line where the dirt met the sand and stopped. They stood side by side, their eyes following the flashlight’s powerful beam.
“See those marks in the sand?” Rory said, using the flashlight like a laser pointer.
“Yeah,” Woody replied, taking a swig from a mystery beer he had grabbed from the picnic table. He swallowed slowly, his eyes examining a jagged crater in the wet sand. The light hovered on the fresh disturbance and then slowly traveled along deep gouges that ran into the lake.
A cold shiver snaked down Rory’s spine. It was so quiet he could hear his heart beating. “That’s where that thing dragged Clutch into the water.” A loon cried out from across the lake and Rory could tell Woody wasn’t convinced.
“That’s how far Clutch made it back to camp before it got him,” Rory continued, taking the beer from Woody and extinguishing the cotton mouth that had been plaguing his sticky tongue for the last forty-five minutes. He offered the can to Rachel. She shook her head, so he passed it back to Woody, who finished the remaining backwash in a single chug.
“We should grab some water on our way back to the car,” Rory suggested, suddenly craving water more than he realized.
“Let’s go!” Rachel urged, tugging on Rory’s arm.
“Kate!” Woody yelled through his cupped hands, making Rachel and Rory jump like someone had just hit them with a Taser.
“Are you crazy?” Rory scowled.
Woody threw his long arms into the air. “Well, we have to try something. They could be hurt.”
“We could be hurt if you don’t chill out.” Rory flicked the flashlight back out over the peaceful water, partially satisfied that Woody was at least entertaining the idea that something had happened. They stood in the moonlight listening for a response to Woody’s cry, but only the critters and creatures of the night were there to answer. Woody dropped the empty beer can to the sand and started for the water.
“Woody!” Rory hissed, reluctantly following. Rachel let go of his arm, refusing to take another step closer to the water.
“Wait. Shine the light over here.” Woody pointed to some wet sand with obvious signs of a struggle. The Maglite’s beam glistened off something. Woody bent over and carefully pinched it with two fingers and held it up to the light. He blew wet sand away and rotated it until his face soured. “One of Clutch’s earrings,” he said heavily.
Rory’s eyes narrowed at the strip of sandy flesh dangling from the bottom of the silver hoop.
“Holy shit,” Woody mumbled, dropping it back to the sand like it might bite him. His wide eyes returned to Lake Darling with more urgency running through his veins. His prevailing Adam’s apple bounced up and down as he wiped his hand on his shorts. “I was just in there with them,” he said, staring blankly at the shimmering water. “It could’ve been me.”
“It still could if we don’t get out of here,” Rachel added, backing to the trail.
Woody slowly turned around with his mouth hanging open. “Good point. Let’s go,” he said, just as a large man in a black suit and white button-down exploded from the water like a great white lunging after a brown fur seal. They scrambled to turn a stumble into a run and barely had time to take four steps before the man had his beefy meat hooks sunk into Woody’s shoulders from behind. This time Rory didn’t hesitate. He whirled in the sand and clubbed the man over the head with the flashlight. The soggy crunch shattered the lens and stunned the aggressor, driving him to his knees. He swayed for a moment before falling to his side and rolling over onto his back. Unblinking, soulless eyes twinkled with the stars above.
“Holy shit!” Woody howled, not taking his wide eyes from the jagged holes in the man’s pallid cheeks. Woody rubbed his shoulders, staring at the yellow tendons weaving throughout the man’s wrinkled flesh. “Oh my God, I think I’m infected!”
The beam of light slid to Woody’s shoulders. “You’re not infected,” Rory said, swinging the beam back to the man’s body.
Woody ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “Is he dead?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s go!” Rachel sobbed, digging her nails into Rory’s arm and pulling.
Rory examined the man’s ghastly face, paralyzed by the insanity of it all.
He forced himself to turn away. “Come on,” he said, ushering Rachel towards the woods.
“Wait!” Woody yelled.
Grudgingly, Rory stopped and turned.
“That’s Jake Fletcher.”
Rory followed Woody’s gaze to the dead man, his senses on high-alert. “Who?”
Floodwater Zombies Page 7
