by Rose Francis
My eyes teared up thinking about all of this as I neared the small covered bridge over Lacy Creek. The covered bridge isn’t all that long since the creek isn’t very wide but I guess I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I didn’t hear the pinging sound of an open car door until I was on the bridge itself. I stopped, startled. A dark-colored car sat in the middle of the bridge, its engine on but its headlights off and one door open. From where I stood it looked like Mr. Grayson’s old Chevy but what was it doing there and where was Mr. Grayson? Had he been taken in the Rapture? But, if so, why was the door open?
“Hello,” I called. My voice sounded shaky and uncertain, strange to my ears. “Mr. Grayson?” I tried again. “Hello?” But the only sound I could clearly hear above the pinging was the thumping of my heart. My fingers turned cold with fright but I gave myself a stern talking to. What was there to be frightened of on the covered bridge? Not an old, empty car, for sure. I suddenly remembered the flashlight I held in my hand and switched it on. I played the light all over the car. As far as I could tell, it was empty. I made myself keep walking. It felt like the longest walk of my life to reach that car but, finally, I did. There was nobody inside.
I closed the door to stop the annoying pinging and that was when I noticed the dark stain on the wooden planks right where the driver’s feet might have rested when he got out of the car. I trained the flashlight on it and bent over, sniffing. The strong metallic scent of blood threaded through with a faint putrid smell which I recognized. The smell of decay. Had the car struck an animal that had died on the bridge? I played the light around on the ground and saw a few, much smaller stains leading to the far side of the bridge where they disappeared. This didn’t make sense. If Mr. Grayson had struck an animal there should be more traces of it under his car but there weren’t. And, where was Mr. Grayson, himself? The blood couldn’t be his. The dead rats that sometimes turned up around the barn smelled like that but only after a few days.
I stood beside his car, debating what to do. If something bad had happened to Mr. Grayson and he’d gone to get help or something he’d be mad if he came back and his car was missing. But if he’d been taken to heaven in the Rapture then he didn’t need his car anymore. I could back the car out, do a u-turn on the road outside, and reach Acadia in less than half-an-hour if I really floored it.
Driving into town was a much better plan than continuing to walk. But, suppose I was wrong on all counts and Mr. Grayson had just stopped the car to take a leak? It didn’t seem likely he’d go very far but, just to be safe, I crossed back over to the other side of the bridge where the blood stains had led and shouted his name a couple times.
I played the flashlight on the nearby trees, hoping that, if he was around but couldn’t hear me, at least he’d see the light. I shouted his name some more, too. Mr. Grayson moved to our area a few years ago. He’d bought the Campbell’s old house a few miles down the road from us but he didn’t socialize with area folks much. He didn’t even go to church, just kept to himself but he always smiled and had a good word for people when he was in Acadia so people liked him well enough.
There was no answer of any kind to all my hollering so I returned to the car. Half of me was worried about what might have happened to Mr. Grayson, but the other half was elated at the idea of driving the rest of the way to town.
I was just about to open the car door and get behind the wheel when I heard a strange dragging sound. I swung around. At first, I couldn’t see anything and I thought maybe it was just a log or something in the water below but then my flashlight picked out the sight of Mr. Grayson lurching awkwardly toward me. Except…except it wasn’t Mr. Grayson, not really. It had Mr. Grayson’s features and general shape but this…this thing had gray, unnatural-looking skin and its sunken, unfocused eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed. He was bare-footed and I could see that his lower left pants leg was ripped and darker than his right. It took me a minute to realize it was soaked in blood. The dragging sound I’d heard was that of his mangled left foot which, dear God, looked as if it had been gnawed to the bone by some wild animal.
“Mr. Grayson!” My concern overcame my fear. “Oh, no! What happened?”
I’d already started to run to him when it hit me. Mr. Grayson was one of the Risen Dead. That’s why he looked like hell warmed over. If he reached me, he’d kill me. I wheeled around, wrenched open the car door and dove inside but when I tried to start the engine, the ignition wouldn’t turn. Oh, God and the infant baby, Jesus. No! No! I wiggled the key again and again. Nothing. He was close, so close. I tried to roll up the window but I was too late. Mr. Grayson thrust his arm through the window and the stench of rotting flesh almost made me throw up.
“No,” I screamed, throwing myself across the passenger seat and twisting around to kick him. My foot connected with his face and I heard an awful squelching sound. He staggered back but nothing registered on his grey face, no expression, nothing. No! This couldn’t be happening! This was Mr. Grayson. Mr. Grayson. I hadn’t known him all that long but how had he come to this? And there I’d gone thinking he’d been Raptured.
He swayed for a moment then lunged mindlessly at me again, launching his body almost halfway into the car. I scrabbled backward but I wasn’t quick enough. A swollen gray hand grabbed my knee.
“No,” I shrieked. “Get away!” I kicked his head with my free foot and then screamed even louder as I sloughed off some of his scalp. He stank and he was falling apart but he never relinquished his grip on my leg. I tried to tear myself away but his strength was unbelievable. He grabbed my ankle with his other hand and raised my foot to his mouth. I screamed again, certain he was about to bite it off.
Next thing I knew I heard a whooshing sound and then a dull thud. I had no idea what had just happened but, whatever it was, made Mr. Grayson release my foot and lurch around. I immediately scrabbled for the door handle and hurtled out on the other side of the car. I sprinted to the end of the bridge and looked back. A dark figure swung something like a baseball bat and the side of Mr. Grayson’s head caved in. He fell to the ground but his body kept twitching. The stranger raised his weapon over his head and brought it down, again and again, on Mr. Grayson’s head. Finally, the horrible thing that had once been Mr. Grayson stopped moving.
Oh, God! It was like I was so scared I couldn’t think, couldn’t run, couldn’t do anything. Mr. Grayson was dead. No, he’d been dead and he’d tried to eat me. My thoughts bounced crazily around in my head. Now he was really dead. Really, really dead. Oh, God help me! I felt so weak and shaky it was like my veins had turned to ice and my legs to rubber.
“Faith!”
I froze. Not moving, not breathing.
“Faith,” the person said again and moved toward me.
“Gideon?” I couldn’t believe it.
“Yes, it’s me. Are you okay?”
“Oh, my God!” I was utterly incapable of saying anything else. I flung myself at him, sobbing hysterically with relief. He threw the bloodied weapon in his hand down and his strong muscular arms closed around me.
“Shush,” he murmured, holding me tight as he gently stroked my hair. “He didn’t bite you, did he? You’re okay, right?” He ran his hands all over me, checking for injuries.
“I…I’m fine,” I said, my breath catching in my throat. “Oh, my God, Gideon!” Okay, I know I’d said that like a million times already but that was my first encounter with a Risen Dead and he or it, whatever it was, had nearly killed me. I’d almost died! Just thinking about it got me hyperventilating. My chest heaved and my lungs struggled for air.
“Shush,” Gideon said, holding me close. “It’s okay, baby. You’re alright.”
Had he just called me baby? Suddenly I remembered Ma and Pa.
“Gideon.” I started coughing and couldn’t talk. He rubbed my back soothingly and I closed my eyes and stayed quiet in the circle of his arms trying to catch my breath. As I gradually calmed down I realized I could hear each beat of his heart, smell
his own peculiar Gideon scent of green grass and earth, but now it was overlaid with the masculine scent of his perspiration.
“Where are Ma and Pa, Gideon?”
He sighed and his breath stirred my hair.
“They’re gone, Faith.”
“Gone?” What did he mean ‘gone’? “What do you mean, ‘gone’?”
“Look, we shouldn’t really talk here. It’s not safe. Let’s go back to the house.” He released his hold on me and I felt like reaching for him again but controlled myself. I’d never felt safer than right there in his arms.
“Get in the car.”
He picked up the thing he’d hit Mr. Grayson with and I realized it wasn’t a bat. It was a piece of PVC pipe. He threw it into the backseat of the Chevy and slid in behind the wheel. I got in on the passenger’s side. Of course, the ignition started right away when he turned it. I sighed. He was so perfect, not even a car could resist him. I stifled a hysterical giggle. Clearly, I was going crazy but he didn’t even notice. He pressed the pedal to the metal and we roared out of the bridge and tore up the road, heading home. He kept quiet the whole way and I noticed how tired and drawn he looked and how messed up his clothes were. His shirt had grass stains on the sleeves and, why had he been walking? Where was his truck? My mind buzzed with a thousand questions.
I jumped out to open our gate and then closed it behind him. We drove up to the house in silence. I unlocked the front door and we went in. Gideon made a point of locking the door.
“Gideon, what--?” He’d marched straight up the stairs.
“I need to bathe, Faith. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be right back down.”
“Alright.” What else could I say? This was a new, somber Gideon, not the funny, amiable guy I’d known all my life. What had happened in Acadia? Were Pa and Ma dead or had he meant they were caught up in the Rapture?
I went into the kitchen to fix him a peanut butter sandwich, poured out two glasses of apple juice, and then waited patiently for him in our living room. He was down in about fifteen minutes, shirtless, in his pajama pants, his hair wet, his feet bare.
“Think we should turn some of these off,” he said, going into the kitchen to flick off the light and then doing the same in the hallway and in the living room until only a small lamp was still on. Not satisfied with that, he went to the windows and drew the curtains. I watched him, my mouth dry despite the juice.
He sat down beside me on the sofa, grabbed the sandwich from the small coffee table, and polished it off without speaking. I curled up and watched him, dreading whatever I was going to hear. He gulped down the juice.
“You know, Mr. Grayson passed me on the road. I heard the car coming and I hid and watched it go by. He was weaving all over, like he couldn’t drive straight. If I hadn’t seen what I’d seen in Acadia I’d have thought he was drunk but something just told me… I just knew whatever it is had gotten him, too. Surprised he made it this far.” He stopped speaking and stared blankly into space. I watched him in alarm. I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake his story out of him but, at the same time, I didn’t want to hear it. Gideon leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes. The minutes ticked by.
“Gideon!” I shook his arm.
His eyes snapped open, so dark with grief and torment I shrank away from him.
“Faith, I don’t know how to say this.” His voice shook slightly.
“Are they…are they dead?”
He nodded. I didn’t say anything, just stared at him for a few seconds.
“No! They can’t be dead, Gideon. No.” But I felt the awful truth of his words deep inside me.
“I saw them, Faith. They were… They were like Mr. Grayson. Mindless. Hungry.” He dragged his hand across his eyes as if he was trying to blot out the sights he’d seen. “Acadia’s been overrun by the infected. I…I guess Pa and Ma got caught up in the…plague or infection or whatever’s going on. Maybe they didn’t realize the danger or it happened too quickly. I don’t know. There was no-one around to tell me anything.”
“But how do you know Ma and Pa are…are like that?” I demanded, hoping to punch a hole in his story. “Did you actually see them?”
“They were by the square, under the clock, you know.”
Of course I knew. The clock was on one side of the square, above a fountain donated by some rich guy.
“They were just standing there. Not moving. Swaying, kinda. At first, I thought they were okay but when I ran toward them they turned around and I…I saw their faces.” His voice dropped. “I killed them, Faith. I killed Ma and Pa. I had to. They would have eaten me.” He shuddered and his eyes turned inward and I knew he was seeing them in his mind’s eye.
“No, Gideon,” I whispered brokenly, in shock and horror. No, I wanted to scream. He hadn’t killed them. It was some kind of mistake. They were still alive. They would come back and everything would be as before. He had to stop lying. But I knew in my heart of hearts that Gideon was telling the truth.
“I’d parked near Graham’s Pharmacy and had just gotten out of the truck when a man and a woman ran past. They screamed at me to leave. They said ‘they’re coming’ but they didn’t stop to explain. I cut across the alley leading to Main Street and that’s when I saw John Bain, the vet’s son, shoot at this person, a woman.”
He paused. “A blonde woman. She could have been anybody’s wife or mother but he pumped lead into her and she just kept coming. Then this little boy attacked him from behind. I shouted, tried to warn him but I guess he never heard me. The boy, I think he couldn’t have been older than nine or ten, grabbed hold of him and just started biting, ripping into John’s flesh. And then the woman started in on him too. They feasted on him, Faith, and then they moved on. The whole town was like that. It was carnage. Mauled bodies and the Risen everywhere. Bullets can’t kill them, you know, but I saw Dean Welling slice off one’s head with a machete before another one got him. Ma and Pa had that same grey, dead look and I knew they would eat me, too, if they could. Oh, Faith.”
Tears shone in his eyes. His voice trembled and he covered his face with his hands. His shoulders shook.
“I killed them. I killed my own parents. I took Dean’s machete and I killed them.”
“Gideon!” I flung my arms around him. It was my time to offer comfort but I didn’t know what to say. This was unreal. Ten hours ago Ma and Pa were walking and talking, they’d been themselves, people with feelings and emotions, and now they were dead. “Shush. You…” Words of comfort stuck in my throat but I needed to say them. He needed to hear them. “You did what you had to do. They’d have understood. I mean, they would have if they were alive, really alive, in which case you wouldn’t have had to kill them but, oh, God, I mean…”
He reared back from me, his eyes wet. “I know what you’re trying to say and I know you’re right. I know that here.” He tapped his index finger to his head. “But not here.” He tapped the area over his heart.
“Do you…do you think they recognized you? Could they have known it was you?”
“That’s all I’ve been thinking about. Did they know it was their son who killed them?” His voice cracked and he took a long shuddering breath. “But I don’t think so. I don’t know what keeps them moving, God’s will, I guess, but I think they’re dead inside. Their souls have gone and who they were is over.”
“Huh.” I chewed that over then another thought occurred to me. “Did…did you see anyone going up to heaven?” If anybody should have been caught up in the Rapture, it should have been Ma and Pa but maybe they weren’t righteous enough for the Lord. Maybe they’d told lies when they were children or stolen money. Maybe they’d had some deep dark secret I’d never known.
Gideon shook his head. “Not a one.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
I thought this over. “I guess God is being real picky.”
“Or, maybe Pastor Joseph and Pa and everyone got it wrong and these aren’t the End Time
s.”
I stared at him. “What else could they be?” I demanded.
He shrugged, looking exhausted all over again. “I don’t know, Faith. I really don’t know but we’ve got to figure out what we’re going to do.”
“Do?”
“We can’t stay here forever,” he pointed out, patiently. “Our food will run out.”
“Well, at least we’ll have milk and…meat if we kill any of the cows so we can stay for a while.” I searched my mind frantically for possible options. “And we can scout around other people’s houses in the area to pick up what we need. If nobody’s there, I mean.” I felt ashamed proposing theft but what choices had God given us? Were there many other people still alive in our area? I hoped and prayed so with all my heart.
Gideon rubbed his eyes and yawned. “I suppose we could,” he said. “I’m too tired to really think about it now. We should go to bed and talk it over in the morning.” He rose to his feet and turned off the lamp. I followed him up the stairs and we said ‘good-night’ and went into our separate bedrooms but I was too keyed up to fall asleep. I took a long bath, hoping it would calm me down but, when I finally let the water drain away, I felt more wired than ever. I shrugged into my nightgown and got beneath the covers.
It was no use. My mind just kept going round and round in circles. I thought about Ma and Pa dying, about poor Mr. Grayson, about how everything in my life had changed so quickly in the blink of an eye. Well, one thing remained the same. Gideon.
I threw off the covers and padded down the hall to his room. He’d closed his curtains but I could still make out the shape of his form stretched out on the bed. His head was buried beneath his pillows.
I crept toward him.
“Gideon,” I whispered. “Are you asleep?”
He lifted the pillow. “Can’t sleep. I keep seeing them.”
