Valley of Death & Zombies

by William Bebb

  Charlie thought feverishly as he considered the situation. Everything I ever wanted was right here. What's the point of all this pain and suffering I have to endure before it's over? I have no legs. I'm missing an arm, my right testicle, and now I think I've managed to castrate myself in the stupidest way since that night in the brothel. What more will I lose before this life is over? He closed his eyes and remembered the girl who broke his heart long ago and smiled seeing her smiling at him, her blue eyes sparkling as they reflected the sunset. With his eyes closed, he opened his mouth and stuck the barrel of the gun in pointing up. He tasted the cold faintly oily metal and cocked back the hammer. She was still smiling at him at the beach as he pulled the trigger.

  “Excuse me, Sir?”

  Charlie heard the voice and jerked involuntarily. He couldn’t stop pulling on the trigger as he opened his eyes. Two young men, holding big clubs, were looking at him nervously as the gun fired. The shot would most definitely have blown the top of his head off had he not jerked at the last second. What happened instead made both Issac and Jeremiah turn away. The bullet went where the muzzle was pointed, on a trajectory through his tongue and right side of his face. Where the right side of his face was a moment earlier there was now a gaping smoking hole with shreds of flesh and meat. All the teeth on the right side on his mouth, were reduced to tiny shards of white and yellow shrapnel which, rattled off the trailer’s door before falling in the dirt.

  Issac turned back first and was unable to believe it possible, yet the man with the ruined face looked up at him with eyes filled with total awareness. His right eye was blown from the socket and seemed to be looking up at the night sky. The other eye stared straight at him. The badly injured man shook for a few seconds and laid still, but Issac saw his chest continuing to rise and fall.

  Charlie had managed to shoot himself in a way that left him paralyzed from the neck down, yet from the neck up he felt every iota of blinding agony his decimated head was in. He had lost control of his right eye and all it could see was the moon and stars as it stared upward. He looked at the man in the white shirt and black tie, and half sputtered half screamed at him but the damage to his mouth made him impossible to understand.

  “Don’t worry, I know first aid, just try and be calm.” Issac said, opening his backpack and pulling out a white t shirt which he placed over the hole in the right side of Charlie’s face. It instantly started staining red as it soaked up the blood. The song Gimmee Three Steps, by Lynyrd Skynyrd, began to play from the record player as he heard his friend speak.

  “Issac, you better look at this.” Jeremiah said, watching as the two men they had just seen killed were now not only standing, but starting to move toward them. “What do we do, run or fight?”

  Issac picked up the revolver, Charlie had used in his failed suicide attempt, and aimed at the two men across the stream. Aiming carefully, at the short one's head, he pulled the trigger.

  Few things in their respective lives, were as disappointing as the anti-climatic click that followed. All six shots had been fired.

  “Should I look for the bullets? What do we do?” Jeremiah asked, watching as the dead men started across the stream.

  Issac dropped the gun, grabbed his club he had laid next to the lounge chair, and joined his friend. “There’s no time- beside we're good Samaritans, remember? Let’s go bash their heads in.”

  And with that, Issac ran toward the small stream the undead men were halfway across with his oak table leg club raised over his head. Saying a silent prayer, he hurried to the edge of the water and changed the club's position to that of an enormous baseball bat. He glanced to his side and saw Jeremiah, with his face pale and arms trembling, as he held his shaking club in both hands.

  “Have faith, brother.” Issac said, as he swung at the tall lanky man who had three large bullet holes in his chest. It was a tremendous swing and had it connected with his head it would have surely shattered the skull, but the lanky one stumbled in some submerged rocks and tumbled forward. When he fell, he latched on to Issac's leg and bit hard knocking him to the ground.

  “Ow! God Damn you!” Issac screamed, as he kicked and pushed him off. He jumped back to his feet and felt the bite on his leg aching as he lifted the club. Ready to finish the fight, he swung the club down on the kneeling lanky man's head. It connected with a solid wet sound and crushed his skull. Issac watched as the man shuddered in the stream for a second and then laid still as water flowed over his body.

  Jeremiah was taller than the short man, but his wild eyes and open mouth made him back up a step as he came out of the water. He hadn't been in a fight since elementary school and even then it had been against a girl. A big girl, yet still just a girl nonetheless. He swung at the man’s chest and saw the impact do little more than knock him off balance. The short one stumbled and fell back into the stream as Issac screamed. He watched as his older friend finish his enemy off with an impressive skull shattering wallop. The short one tried to crawl toward him through the water, and he held him at bay with his club. He knew what he needed to do, but didn't believe he could do it. Staring at his opponent, he felt uncertain and kept him away in the water.

  Issac walked over and said “Think of it as destroying the enemy of God Jeremiah. He's not a man any longer. There is no image of God in this abomination. Hit him in the head if you love God. Just do it.”

  He raised his club over his head and brought it down with all the righteous fury he could muster. The wooden table leg felt heavy as he swung it at the man who had never done anything to him. It connected and the vibration that ran up his arms made him nearly drop the club. The little man, with the Groucho mustache, fell back into the water. The hair and scalp were torn partially off of his skull as he started to rush forward snarling as Jeremiah backed up another step.

  Give me strength Lord. He prayed silently, as he swung the club again. On impact the skull collapsed like an egg shell and the dead man ceased to move. Jeremiah gagged, and quickly looked away.

  CHAPTER 10

  Empty beer cans clanged and crashed as Billy ran between a pair of badly dilapidated trailers. He couldn't see what else he was running into, but he guessed there had to be a few billion beer cans scattered around the trailers. Haven't these people ever heard of recycling? he wondered, as Boris crashed through the mounds of beer cans beside him.

  He was reminded of a class experiment they did a few months ago at school called Blind for a day. Running in the dark, being chased by monsters, was a lot more challenging than wearing a blindfold and being led around the school by his friend Kevin had been. He ran into a few chair legs and managed to slip on some spilled strawberry flavored milk, on the floor in the lunchroom, and fall on a couple of girls who had been eating lunch. But at school he knew when the experiment was over he'd be able to take off the blindfold, go home, and play video games or watch TV. But as he ran in the almost complete darkness he realized this was no experiment, except maybe an experiment in terror.

  Running harder, his lungs ached for air, he felt increasingly tired and uncoordinated as he ran into things he couldn't identify in the near total darkness. A clearing ahead was awash in moonlight and he ran harder as he heard the grunting and screaming things behind him sounding much closer. Boris ran through the clearing and he chased after him. He climbed over a three foot high retaining wall and stepped once more into shadows cast from the abandoned trailer.

  Stopping to catch his breath, he leaned against the wall of bricks gasping for air. His legs felt rubbery and without consciously doing so he slid down behind the wall, sitting in the dirt and shadows. He heard Boris panting next to him, reached out and petted him on the head, and again wished he'd stayed in bed.

  Seeing a section of the wall was missing some bricks, he scooted over on his belly and looked back at the clearing they had just run through. He still couldn't see the pursuers as he slowly caught his breath. There were loud noises coming from where they had just been. Most of the pursuers wer
e just making that grunting noise he'd almost become used to. But he heard a screamer, in the dark, and shuddered uncontrollably until he felt Boris licking his face.

  He pulled his BB rifle off his shoulder and made sure it was pumped up and ready to fire. Staring into the small clearing, he saw a ditch running through it that he hadn't noticed earlier and wondered how he had managed not to trip or fall into it. A clothesline hung up between the pole and the trailer was about five feet above the ground and a giant pair of old underwear and bra hung limply from it. They had run right under the clothesline and he was very grateful he was still a fairly short kid.

  Opening the backpack, he pulled out a bottle of water as his breathing gradually slowed down. Billy drank some water, then poured some into the palm of his hand and held it out so Boris could drink too. He felt the dog's warm tongue as Boris licked the water, yet kept watching the clearing, while the sounds of pursuit got louder. To Billy, it sounded like an army of undead was closing in.

  There was the sound of running feet and snarling moments before an empty gallon paint can was kicked out of the darkness. A lanky man, little more than a fast moving silhouette from where Billy laid hidden behind the wall, ran into the clearing and screamed. After finishing his cry, the lanky man bent over and sniffed at the ground. He howled, stood up, and ran toward the ditch heading for where they had crossed. There was a twang sound as he hit the clothesline. The nylon line intersected with his neck and caused him to be flung backward and fall into the drainage ditch. The ditch had been lined with bricks and as he fell there was a solid thunk sound. Followed by a yelp of pain as he landed with his upper body in the ditch and his legs shaking in the air. Billy almost giggled as the snarls continued although much quieter.

  Three more shadowy figures came out of the darkness and they went, in a group, to the flailing legs sticking out of the ditch. The fattest of the three grabbed a shaking leg sticking out of the ditch and down on it. The snarls from the ditch became a scream of pain. One of the other two grunted and fell into the ditch. But quickly climbed out on the other side. The last one, with one of his arms badly torn and missing its lower parts, looked on as the fat one began tearing large sections of muscle and flesh from the first ones leg while he continued to scream upside down in the ditch.

  Billy watched as the one that had crawled out of the ditch moved to the low wall, leaned forward and fell with a crash, only a few feet where they were hiding.

  “It's time to run again.” he whispered to the dog and ran away from the clearing and once more into the darkness.

  Billy heard the grunting and snarling become more distant, behind him, as they ran on trying not to crash into anything. A simple thing to do if I'd brought a flashlight, he thought, while picking up speed. He looked over his shoulder and could still see the little clearing as he ran into a grocery cart that had apparently been filled with empty beer cans. He tumbled and landed in a huge pile of cans, making a horrendous amount of noise. There must be a million dollars worth of aluminum in this park, he thought as he got up and continued to run.

  He caught a starlit glimpse of something in his way and tried to swerve around it, but tripped on a rusty chain that hung from two short metal posts. The chain had an old rusty sign hanging on it which even in daylight would have been too rusty and illegible to read. Boris yelped as Billy, fell face forward, carried by momentum landed partly on the dog and partly on some old wooden boards. He was stunned as he laid there hearing the old boards creaking under him and feeling the dog’s wet tongue licking his face. The phone! He felt in the backpack, found it, pulled it out, and flipped it open. The light from its screen was feeble, yet it was enough for Billy to see the dog looking warily back the way they had come. Boris's ears twitched, as he growled softly. The signal meter was still showing No Signal as he sat up slowly on the creaking boards. He saw his BB rifle and was reaching for it when the beer cans they had run through seconds earlier began to clatter in the darkness behind him. Picking up the rifle he flipped the phone shut at the same time then tried to stand. Boris growled louder, in the dark, as Billy shakily stood up feeling the bending boards creaking and cracking ominously.

  He whispered “Come on Boris.” and took a single step before a board, his left foot was on, broke apart with a sound as loud as a gunshot. Slamming face first into the dirt he felt his nose bleeding. He tried to stand, but his boot was wedged tight between some wooden boards. As he pulled and wiggled his boot, Boris barked and ran back the way they had come.

  “No Boris come back!” he yelled, struggling to free his boot while feeling sharp edges from the wood cutting his ankle. He was sprawled mostly on the dirt with his lower left leg still held firm in the splintered wooden planks. Boris sounded like he was busy and he heard some growls that he was certain did not belong to the dog. Flipping open the phone he saw how his foot was stuck. It felt like the wood had grown sharp nasty teeth that were trying to chew him up. In spite of the pain, he kept pulling and twisting until he saw a shadowy figure approaching from where Boris continued to fight.

  The light from the phone allowed him to watch the shambling creature come closer. It had once been a man. He was certain of that, but most of it's face lacked skin and the hands were filthy with many missing patches of skin. Billy couldn't help screaming as it looked directly at him and shuffled forward faster.

  Issac told Jeremiah to keep watch, while he checked on the man missing half his face. “Do you have a first aid kit inside? Just blink twice if you do.” Issac said.

  Charlie closed both eyes and made a lisping squawking noise.

  “Jeremiah, go inside and see if you can find a first aid kit or maybe just some clean towels- anything to help staunch the flow of blood, and maybe some bandages for my leg where that thing bit me- And some rubbing alcohol if he has any. I'll stay here with our friend.” Issac said, patting Charlie, gently on the shoulder, as he wiped the sweat off his own forehead. He felt queasy and flushed as he watched Jeremiah go inside. Charlie made another slightly louder lisping noise as he heard the younger man climb the steps and go in his trailer.

  “Just try and relax. I've seen worse wounds.” Issac lied, as he felt increasingly dizzy and flushed. He sat back against the trailer and closed his eyes to rest until Jeremiah came back.

  Issac tried to pray as he rested. God help us. Please help me to be strong and do your will- He felt a confusing moment of pain, deep in his head, fought hard against it, and continued, God oh God! He clutched his head, in both hands, and felt the pain increasing exponentially as a brilliant flare of agony exploded deep inside. His last coherent thought was GOD!

  Charlie heard the man behind him breathing harder, almost panting. He would have turned to see what was going on if he could, but of course being paralyzed from the neck down he couldn't. Through garbled grunts he had been trying to tell them not to go in the trailer and tried begging for them to put him out of his misery. But from what he had overheard from their conversations he was sure these two kids were Bible thumpers of the worst sort. The kind who would never commit a mercy killing.

  He feared what the young man would find inside his trailer. Having been a lifelong pornography enthusiast, he shuddered to think what had been left sitting around inside. Of course, if the kid triggers any of the booby traps he had cleverly hidden around, what he might find would hardly matter. He had planted the traps, years earlier, and checked to make sure they were in working order every now and then, just in case he was ever raided by the police or the government. Hearing the kid, inside the trailer, looking around he wondered if it would hurt when the trailer exploded. He heard the other kid panting behind him, concentrated and tried to say slowly and clearly “Get your friend out of there.” But it came out sounding more like “Ge yr hrend ow der.”

  The older kid was breathing on his head, sniffing him, and grunting. Charlie was mystified and confused as he was slowly circling around so he could see him. The floodlights made him all too easy to see as he came face to fac
e. The whites of his eyes were bright red and he felt him pull the folded up bloody shirt off his face. He leaned closer grunting and reached over to his partially dislodged eyeball, grabbed it and pulled.

  This place is an insult to pigsties everywhere, Jeremiah thought, as he picked up a kerosene lantern that had been burning just inside the door. Walking down the filthy and foul smelling hallway he stepped in a pile of gooey stuff. The horrible smell seemed to increase a hundred percent, and he held his breath, as he stepped into the bathroom.

  Skynyrd watched, from the shadows, as the intruder stepped in it's bodily wastes and flicked it's tongue tasting the air. The snake had been sleeping peacefully until it first heard then smelled the stranger blundering in the hallway. Slowly uncoiling, it slithered down the hallway from the back bedroom that served as it's lair. Charlie had tried to coax Skynyrd out, over the last several days, to eat some of the rabbits, but it hadn't been hungry then. As it uncoiled and slid forward it finally felt hungry and perturbed having been rudely awakened. The snake tasted the air and was certain this man was a stranger and consequently a possible snack.