JF Gonzalez - Back From The Dead.wps

by phuc

  For the first time Scott felt a shiver run through him at the very implication.

  “Come on.” David headed into the woods, his stance unwavering, determined.

  Brandishing his shovel like a weapon, he headed into the woods slowly, following the tracks only he could see. Scott cautiously followed behind him, searching the woods all around them for any tell-tale signs that somebody else had been through here: a bent branch, footprints, flattened down weeds or grass. He had no idea what he was looking for. With a heavy feeling of dread, Scott followed David, clutching the shovel tightly in his grip.

  When they were fifty yards away from the clearing Scott started to get worried.

  Surely even if Count Gaines’ spell had worked, the bum couldn’t have gotten that far. Or could he?

  As they headed deeper into the woods, David occasionally stopped and searched the area with the gaze of a hawk. Scott stood still each time, keeping his breathing shallow, ears tuned for every sound. He felt an internal timetable ticking away as the minutes passed. They were not going to make the morning weight room workout, which meant Coach Clark, the head football coach, would ride their ass but that was nothing new. Coach Clark was always riding their asses. First period started at eight A.M. sharp, and ditching it was out of the question this late in the game. It was Finals week.

  “This way,” David said. He took off in another direction, heading south this time.

  Scott followed, still tense and wired.

  The woods in this part of Lancaster County were thick. Scott had no idea it was so remote here. It was weird to think that modern civilization was only two miles away, yet in here, in the thick of the forest, it felt like being in another world. He wondered why this section of what had to be state game lands was so desolate, why it hadn’t been built up.

  His dad’s company, Evergreen LLC, was responsible for most of the rural development in Lancaster County these days. In fact, his dad sat on the Spring Valley County Commissioner’s board for development. Whenever a large corporation like Target or Wal-Mart wanted to build a store in the area, representatives from those companies had to pitch the idea to the city. Scott’s father had tremendous influence on the Commissioner’s board for development, and sometimes Scott overheard his father while he was in his office during phone meetings. He couldn’t recall this section of Spring Valley being in discussion and had never ventured to ask. Surely it was owned by the County or the state, right? Scott didn’t think it could be privately owned, but then–

  “There’s a farm up ahead,” David said, his voice a low whisper. David had stopped and was looking intently ahead at something through a thick band of trees.

  Scott stopped. “Where?”

  David pointed. “About a hundred yards away. Looks like a field. Come on.”

  As they threaded their way through the thick woods, Scott could make out where the forest ended and the beginning of what appeared to be a farmer’s field. His heart quickened. What if he made it out to the field and some farmer found him?

  Later, when they got back to the house and talked about what happened between themselves, and later with Gordon and Steve, Scott would learn that they’d walked almost a half a mile through the forest. But now, as they reached the edge of the forest and Scott saw a figure just breaking through the stand of trees and head into the field, all thoughts of how far they’d come flew from his mind. Scott recognized the lurching figure the moment his eyes rested on him. “That’s him!”

  Scott and David ran the last dozen yards through the trees toward the bum, who was lurching toward the field on wobbly legs. As they fell upon him, Scott raised the shovel over his shoulder and brought it down on the man’s back. The blade hit the small of his back and brought him to his knees. “Motherfucker!” Scott tackled him, his knees grinding against the man’s lower back. He was instinctively reaching for his neck to throttle him when David pulled him back.

  “No! We gotta restrain him. Help me tie him up!” David was reaching into the burlap bag he’d lugged along and pulled out a coil of rope. He tossed one end to Scott, who caught it one-handed. Then David was on the ground helping Scott tie the dead man up.

  It wasn’t until they had the man’s arms bound to his sides and his legs tied together that Scott realized the implications of his blind rage could have gotten him killed. He’d attacked a zombie! What if he’d been bitten?

  As David brought the dead man up into a sitting position, Scott warily took stock of the situation. A wave of naseau swept through him and he fought it down. For the first time he was intimately aware of the odor emanating off the man. It was the stink of death.

  Bits of dried mud clung to the man’s face and hair. His busted eye lolled from the socket, the pupil a tiny orb amid the dirty white of the sclera. The crack in his skull was clotted with dirt and bits of grass. While the man looked like shit, his overall appearance was worse now due to being buried. His head darted around like a frightened animal, his one remaining eye taking everything in. To Scott, he looked like one of those zombies you saw in a movie– Dawn of the Dead or 28 Days Later. He thought the man would have a more vacant stare. It wasn’t like that at all.

  “Holy shit, look at him,” Scott said. His heart pounded in his chest. He felt light-headed. Even David was affected by the sight of the bum. It was like watching a science project come to life before their eyes after months of research and preparation.

  Count Gaines’ spell had worked!

  “He’s still dead, right?” Scott whispered, unable to take his eyes off the dead man.

  “Yeah,” David said. “We were all there when Gordon took his pulse after we killed him. You saw it.”

  Scott could only watch the bum, knowing in his heart that David was right. After they’d killed him last night they’d watch Gordon take his pulse. “He’s definitely dead,”

  Gordon had said, his voice shaking slightly. Hell, they’d all been nervous last night after killing him. It was the first time they’d ever killed anybody. That nervousness, however, had quickly dissipated. After all, the guy had just been a worthless homeless nigger.

  The bum’s remaining eye darted around. His features looked fearful, scared, and nervous. His face was streaked with blood and dirt.

  “So what do we do with him?” Scott asked. What a stupid question! he thought.

  The correct question should’ve been, how do we get him back to the guesthouse?

  “Something we didn’t take into account which we should right now,” David said.

  He turned to Scott. “You have any special emotional attachment to that windbreaker you’re wearing?”

  Scott was wearing a light tan windbreaker. It had been chilly this morning. “Not really. Why?”

  “We need something to cover his head with,” David said. He gestured to Scott.

  “Take it off. We can tie it around his head with the sleeves.”

  Scott understood where David was going with this. He shrugged out of the windbreaker and handed it to David.

  David spread the windbreaker out and stood in front of the bum, who looked up at him. The bum made a strangled hiss. Scott felt a chill run down his spine at the sound of it.

  With a sudden lunge, David looped the jacket over the zombie’s head and wrapped the sleeves around, tying the jacket up as the zombie screamed and began flailing its body around. Scott felt his heart stop at the sound of it; the scream was muffled and raspy, but the intensity of it was chilling. He didn’t realize he’d taken an involuntary step back as David took control of the zombie, tying the jacket around its head, effectively blinding and gagging him. David glanced back at Scott, his features slightly ashen. It looked like the zombie’s reaction had spooked him as well. “C’mon, we gotta get him out of here.”

  Scott forced himself to step forward. Standing near the zombie now brought an involuntary shudder through him.

  David was clutching the zombie’s shoulders. “Help me get him up. You take one end, I’ll take the other, and
we’ll walk him back to the car.”

  Somehow they did it. Scott fought his revulsion down during the first dozen yards, but as they quickly headed back to the car he felt better about the situation. They ushered the zombie along as if they were herding a man of simple means. The zombie had stopped its ululations of escape and moved along compliantly, like a dog on a leash.

  Once at the SUV they herded the zombie in the back. David secured the zombie to the floor of the vehicle with some tie-down straps, holding him firmly in place. The zombie was completely docile now. Scott felt his fascination with everything growing by leaps and bounds. While the situation was still creepy, it was slowly awakening something inside him. Something that told him that this was the start of something big.

  Scott and David got in the front seat and David started the vehicle. Scott glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “If we get him to the house and tie him up quickly, we can make first period,” he said.

  David put the vehicle in gear and began backing out of the space he’d parked in.

  “That’s just what I was thinking.”

  During the drive home, Scott had to resist the urge to peek in the rear of the vehicle. While he still felt nervous, he was also excited. He hadn’t entertained the thought of this actually working–he was only going along with Gordon’s idea to placate the bastard. You want to turn a homeless bum into a zombie? Sure? Why the fuck not? What good are homeless people for anyway? He hadn’t expected Gordon’s spell to work, and the fact that it did had thrown a wrench of surprise into the equation. Now that he was getting over that surprise, his mind was working in overdrive.

  “We’ll come straight to the house after school,” Scott said, mostly to himself.

  “We won’t tell Gordon and Steve anything until after school.”

  “They’re gonna ask,” David said.

  “Yeah, you’re right.” Damn!

  “It’ll be cool, though. They haven’t said anything yet.”

  “Okay, so we tell them at lunch. And we go straight to the house after school so Gordon can verify he’s really dead.”

  “Okay, then what?”

  Scott grinned at David. “Then we do what we set out to do. We have some fun with him.”

  David grinned back.

  They made the trip back to Scott’s house in twenty minutes.

  Scott jumped out of the SUV. “Let me make sure my folks are gone,” he said before sprinting up the long driveway to the side door. He got in, checked the garage.

  Both cars were gone. He headed back outside. “Okay, let’s do it!”

  Getting the zombie out of the SUV was a little trickier. Scott played lookout and took a quick surveillance of the neighborhood to see if anybody was out and about. He turned to David. “Back the SUV up to the end of the driveway. We’ll get him out there.”

  David nodded and backed the SUV out onto the street. Scott guided him back in. If they could get the zombie out at the edge of the yard, they’d be out of sight from the eyes of prying neighbors. Good thing Scott lived in a pretty ritzy area; the closest house was a good one hundred yards away to the south.

  David parked the SUV and raced to the back of the vehicle. A moment later they were walking the zombie to the guest house. The zombie’s gait was still staggering, as if he were drunk. At least he wasn’t making those creepy ass sounds anymore. Scott unlocked the door to the guest house and they herded the zombie inside.

  “Let’s get his ass tied down,” David said, reaching for the restraints on the bloody floor.

  They quickly got the zombie tied down. Once the job was done, they stepped back and surveyed their work. The zombie still had the jacket wrapped and tied around its head. Its arms were tied to its sides, its legs tied together. It lay on its back, restrained by the chains he’d been bound to when he was alive. It moved its head around in a curious motion, as if it were trying to see its surroundings through the windbreaker.

  “What time is it?” David asked.

  Scott checked his watch. “Seven thirty-eight.”

  “Think he’ll be okay here?”

  “Yeah. And we can cut fifth period. We already missed morning weight room, we may as well skip Clark’s athletic class as well.”

  David nodded. “Yeah.”

  “I’d like to get back here as quick as possible. Make sure he’s still tied down.”

  “I hear ya.”

  They glanced at each other. Grinned.

  “We did it, brotha!” They high-fived each other and laughed.

  David reached down and pulled the windbreaker off of the zombie’s head. He threw it aside as Scott gave the zombie a kick in the torso. The zombie made a startled sound, almost as if he’d felt the kick. Hearing that sound gave Scott a perverse thrill, and he kicked him again. The zombie made a strangled attempt at a whine in the back of his throat and tried to scurry away, but was restrained by the bonds that held him in place.

  David and Scott laughed as they watched the zombie try to get himself free. He looked up at them, his eyes dead, yet something in them still remained…something that resembled fear.

  “Come on,” Scott said. He turned away and headed toward the door. David followed him. They exited the guesthouse and Scott locked the door behind them.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tim Gaines was in his composition class with George and Al, in the middle of writing an essay for a class assignment, when they were summoned by the Principal.

  Mr. Newsome, their teacher, looked over in bemusement as Dr. Stokely stood at Mr. Newsome’s desk. “Al, George, and Tim? Dr. Stokely wants to see you in his office.”

  Tim looked up at the front of the class and felt his heart sink.

  Jim Simmons, the school Dean, was standing with Dr. Stokely. He looked accusatory. Furious.

  Oh shit, what now? Tim thought.

  George glanced at him as he rose from his desk. What’s this about? Tim shrugged, trying to be casual about it, and stood up.

  “Get your books,” Dr. Stokely said.

  The room was silent and Tim could feel all eyes on him as he joined Al and George at the front of the room.

  “Let’s go,” Dr. Stokely said. He and Mr. Simmons led the three boys out of the classroom and down the hall.

  As they headed toward the administrative offices, Tim felt his stomach grow tight.

  George asked, “What’s going on?”

  The Principal and the Dean said nothing as they led the boys to the Administration offices. When they got there Tim’s fear became solid.

  Officer Clapton and another police officer were waiting for them in the lobby. The police officers followed them into the Principal’s office.

  Al and George looked confused as they were ushered into the office. Tim felt embarrassed for his friends. They were going to be made to suffer for associating with him. He knew it, had a feeling this had to do with the same old bullshit he’d had to put up with for the past five years. Another false accusation had been levied against him, something relating to the cemetery vandalism Officer Clapton had questioned him about a few days ago. Gordon Smith had probably found a way to weasel out of that; it was obvious. Once again, Tim was going to get in trouble for something he didn’t do.

  “Sit down, boys,” Dr. Stokely said as he crossed the room to his desk.

  “What’s going on?” Tim asked as he sat down. His voice was shaky.

  “I’ll get right to the point,” Dr. Stokely said. He looked like he didn’t want to have to be here. Officer Clapton looked the same way. Only Mr. Simmons looked like he wanted to nail Tim to the wall for something.

  “We learned from several anonymous sources that the three of you belong to a black magic coven and have been vandalizing private and public property,” Dr. Stokely said, all serious.

  “What?” The three boys looked at the adults gathered around them. Al glanced at Tim, then at George, confusion quickly giving way to slow realization.

  “Don’t act surprised,” Mr. Simmons said. “T
im’s been getting away with this crap for too long now. How he managed to rope the two of you into this, I have no idea, but it stops now.”

  “He didn’t rope us into anything!” George protested.

  Dr. Stokely was silent as Mr. Simmons seemed to take over. “For the past year or so, since you’ve been at Spring Valley High, school property has been vandalized.

  Occult-related graffitti has been drawn on lockers, on bathroom walls. You’ve always denied it, but the evidence shows otherwise.”

  “I’m not into the occult!” Tim stated. For the first time he was starting to feel angry.

  “The police say that you tried to frame Gordon Smith for that grave robbing incident in Reamstown,” Mr. Simmons said grimly.

  Tim looked at Officer Clapton, who appeared nervous. The officer that was with him wasn’t nervous at all. Like Mr. Simmons, he seemed to be under the impression that Tim was Satan incarnate.

  “I never made that claim,” Tim said, feeling his gaze drawn to Officer Clapton.

  “And you know it!”

  “True enough,” Officer Clapton said. “When I questioned Gordon, he denied being out that evening and said he’d returned the book you’d loaned to him.”

  “That’s a lie!”

  “You can’t prove we were even at that cemetery,” George stated calmly.

  Dr. Stokely looked at George. “No, that’s the job of the authorities.”

  “And we are cooperating with them fully,” Mr. Simmons said.

  “Fine, whatever,” George said. He shrugged. He was starting to lose some of that nervousness. “Maybe you should get help from a real police force, though. You know…one that has experience with school vandalism and grave robbing.”

  “I don’t appreciate your sarcastic tone, Mr. Ulrich,” Mr. Simmons said.

  “And I don’t appreciate you accusing us of something we had nothing to do with.”

  Way to go, George, Tim thought. George’s stubborn refusal to not back down was having a positive effect on Tim’s own demeanor. Gone were the butterflies that had settled in his stomach as they’d made their way to the Principal’s office.