Best New Zombie Tales (Vol. 1)

by Strand, Jeff

  “What if he’s not dead?”

  The spray of blood had stopped. So had any movement. Natalie made sloppy chewing sounds as she buried her face in Wyatt’s throat.

  “Don’t go near the body. Let’s go back to the car and just… wait.”

  “Wait?” Randy said. “What the fuck are we waiting for?”

  “For Natalie to finish eating.”

  4.

  Liz got back in the car, put her elbows on the steering wheel and her hands over her ears. Kirk and Randy paced slowly together and avoided looking in Natalie’s direction. But they could still hear her.

  She had ripped off Wyatt’s T-shirt and chewed into his belly. Now she was smacking her lips sloppily as she ate, but they did not want to know what she was eating, so they did not look.

  “God, I hope Dicky doesn’t get here before we leave,” Kirk said.

  “I can’t believe we let her do this,” Randy said. His voice was hoarse with emotion. “I really liked Wyatt.”

  “You think I didn’t? There was nothing we could do, Randy. If you’re spurting blood three or four feet into the air from your neck, it’s over. It didn’t take long, either. She tore his throat out. She just bit down and––”

  “Stop, I know, I was there, remember? Look, I’ve been thinking. What if we bury her?”

  “Alive?”

  “You can’t bury her alive, Kirk, she’s dead.”

  “Yeah, I know, but… the way she is?”

  “What do you wanna do, load her up with NyQuil?”

  “I don’t know, I… I-I-I…” Kirk stopped pacing and took a deep breath. “Do you realize we’re talking about a girl who, at this very moment, is eating the guts out of a friend of ours? I liked Wyatt, too. What are we going to––”

  “No, she’s not,” Randy said.

  “What?”

  “Listen. She’s not eating anymore.”

  They turned to her slowly. Natalie was lying on her back on the grass a few feet away from Wyatt’s gutted corpse.

  “Natalie?” Kirk said. “Are you ready to go home?”

  An enormous farting sound came from her direction. Several seconds later, she sat up. “Home,” she said as she got to her feet. She walked unsteadily toward them.

  “Wait a second,” Kirk said. “She can’t get in the car like that. She’s covered with blood.”

  “What? You want her to wash up?”

  Kirk looked around until he spotted a garden hose curled up at a front corner of the mobile home. A green spray-nozzle was attached to the end of the hose. He went to Natalie and said, “Hold it, stand right there. Don’t move.” He got the hose.

  As he hosed her off, Natalie did not make a sound, but wore an expression of shock––eyes clenched shut, mouth yawning open. When he tried to wash the blood off her face, the water’s pressure was strong enough to completely collapse Natalie’s nose.

  5.

  “That wasn’t very nice,” Randy said as Liz drove them back up Churn Creek Road.

  “What do you mean, not very nice,” Kirk said. “It’s not Natalie, Randy. I was just trying to get all that blood off her.”

  “She won’t be able to wear those sunglasses anymore,” Randy said.

  Kirk sighed. “We’ve established that, Randy.”

  Kirk had tried putting the sunglasses on Natalie just before they left the Parks house. The glasses had fallen off her face each time because there was no longer anything there to hold them up.

  “It’s like a belly button,” Liz said. Every few seconds, she glanced in the rearview mirror at Natalie. “It went from being an outie to an innie.”

  Her nose had collapsed into her face. Natalie said it hurt. She kept saying, “Ow.” Something about the fact that she felt pain disturbed Kirk. How could she still feel pain if she were nothing more than a reanimated corpse?

  They could hear her in the trunk of the car. Every time Natalie said, “Ow,” it was difficult not to laugh––because of her collapsed nose, she sounded a little like a duck, and they found that hilarious. They’d been futilely fighting the laughter since Natalie had first spoken after her nose collapsed. “Ow.”

  “Where am I going?” Liz said.

  “My place,” Kirk said.

  - SEVEN -

  1.

  Natalie seemed to remember the pool-house well enough––she went into the bathroom and sat on the toilet seat.

  “Maybe she’ll stay in there,” Kirk said.

  Randy and Liz sat on the couch and she snuggled into the crook of his arm.

  Kirk paced. “I should probably give her a shower.”

  “A shower?” Randy said. “What the fuck are you talking about, like a baby shower?”

  “No, you dink, a shower, to get the rest of that blood off her.”

  “Yeah, but what else is gonna come off?” Randy said. “Is she in any shape to take a shower?”

  Kirk shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. For all I know, it might make her smell better.”

  “Then do it,” Liz said.

  Kirk did not relish the thought of bathing Natalie’s corpse. He decided he only wanted to get the blood off her face. The rest could be covered up with clothes. He did not want to draw attention when they took her back to Mrs. Kobylka, which Kirk intended to do. If necessary, he would threaten to burn down her house with her in it unless she helped him. But he never got the chance.

  He got Natalie undressed and into the shower. “Wash your face, Natalie.”

  She said, “Let’s do it here. It’ll be exciting.”

  “No, we won’t be doing it. Just wash your face, okay? Can you remember how to wash your face?”

  “Too… hot.”

  “The water’s too hot?”

  She nodded once and stepped back away from the stream.

  Kirk leaned into the shower and adjusted the temperature a little. Once again, he was disturbed to know that she could feel pain. He grabbed a washcloth off the shelf over the toilet, got it wet, soaped it up, then put one foot in the shower and said, “Okay, turn around, face me.” He had to tug on her shoulder to get her to turn around. He put the other foot in the shower––so what if he got a little wet?––and put his left hand on the back of her head. He pressed the soapy washcloth to her left cheek, and Natalie’s face collapsed beneath the weight of his hand with a breathy crunch, like a delicate mask. Kirk gasped when he realized what he’d done. He cried out and pushed her away when he saw the maggots crawling out of her destroyed nose. He tripped out of the shower backward, nearly fell, but steadied himself with a hand on the edge of the sink.

  “She’s coming apart,” he said.

  “What?” Liz said in the other room.

  Kirk left the bathroom. “I said she’s––”

  The pool-house door opened and Dad came in. He stopped just inside the door and stood there in his suit, with a copy of the Sacramento Bee tucked under his left arm. “What is that God-awful smell? Kirk, what’s going on in here?”

  2.

  Kirk’s mind froze up. He could think of no fictitious explanation, but would Dad believe the truth?

  “Let’s do it in here, Kirk!” Natalie called from the bathroom.

  “Oh, Jesus, no,” Dad said as he crossed the room and stepped through the open bathroom door. “Oh, no!” Kirk had never heard Dad sound as emotional as he did when he cried out those two words in the pool-house bathroom. He sounded at once angry and afraid. He turned and came out of the bathroom, looked pleadingly at Kirk. “I asked you if you’d done anything foolish, Kirky. I asked if you knew anything about her disappearance. You lied to me.”

  Kirk nodded. “I’m sorry, Dad. But you don’t know the whole story. When you hear it, you’ll understand why––”

  “I told you to stay away from her, didn’t I?” Dad said. “How many times did I tell you to stay away from that old woman, to leave her alone? Why didn’t you?” He stepped over to Kirk and let his newspaper drop to the floor as he put his hands on Kirk’s
shoulders and shook him violently a few times. “Why didn’t you, Goddammit?”

  The bottom fell out of Kirk’s stomach. Dad knew what he had done, he knew about Mrs. Kobylka. But Kirk could not imagine how.

  “How did you know?” Kirk said.

  “How do you think? I guessed as soon as I saw her.” He pointed at the bathroom doorway, where Natalie stood naked, the left side of her face crushed. What looked from that short distance like a couple small globs of mayonnaise on her face were actually clumps of maggots coming out of her left inverted nostril.

  Kirk said, “But how did you know about Mrs. Kobylka?”

  “You think you and your friends discovered her?” Dad said. “She’s been around a long time. My dad used to say she looked old when he was a kid. When I was a kid, my friends and I used to make up stories about her to tell each other. We used to scare the crap out of ourselves. So did all the other kids. Creepy old Mrs. Kobylka on Witch’s Hill.”

  “Did you ever hear the one about the dog?” Kirk said. “Some say it was a Doberman, others say it was a German shepherd.”

  Randy said, “I heard one version where it was a St. Bernard, like Cujo.”

  “It was a German shepherd,” Dad said. “His name was Duke, and he was the best dog in the world. He was smart, and funny, and loyal. One day, he just stopped playing. We took him to the vet, and he had cancer. We had to have him put to sleep. I didn’t want to. I begged my mother to let me take him home and take good care of him so he could get well. I was only ten at the time. All I knew was, I wanted my dog. But I couldn’t have him. Mom explained that if we did not have Duke put down, he would die soon anyway, and in a lot of pain, which would be cruel. But I couldn’t accept it. I got the idea maybe thirty or forty minutes after we buried Duke in the back yard––if Mrs. Kobylka is really a witch, why not enlist her services? See, when I was a kid, the story was that she had brought back some kid’s dead cat. So, why not my dog?”

  “It was your dog?” Kirk said, his voice an awed whisper. He exchanged a stunned glance with Randy.

  Dad said, “I rode my bike over to her house and knocked on her door and asked her right up front, ‘Are you a witch?’”

  Kirk nodded. “That’s pretty much what I did.”

  “Well, it was a mistake, Kirk,” Dad said with quiet intensity. “It was a big mistake. It still keeps me up some nights, and that was a dog. This is a person, this is… Natalie.”

  “What keeps you up some nights?” Kirk asked.

  “I should’ve been more specific,” Dad said. “I should’ve told you the truth early on, maybe you would’ve stayed away from her then.”

  “What keeps you up?” Kirk asked again.

  “Nightmares. The memory of what I had to do. There’s a price to pay for what you’ve done, Kirk.”

  Mrs. Kobylka had asked him if he was ready to pay the price, but it had sounded like bullshit coming from her. Coming from Dad, it sounded ominous.

  “What’s happened since you brought her back?” Dad asked. “Has anyone been hurt?”

  Kirk looked at Randy and Liz for a moment. He saw no point in lying to Dad––he’d hear about it sooner or later, and he would know. Kirk told him about Mom’s ferret, and then about Wyatt Parks.

  “What the hell were you doing at Wyatt Parks’ house?” Dad asked.

  Kirk gulped. He thought a moment about the baggie of pot––he was relieved when he remembered it was still in the glovebox in Liz’s car where Dad couldn’t see it. “We stopped by to see Dicky. But he wasn’t home.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Dad said, shaking his head. He took his cell phone from the right pocket of his suitcoat and punched in a number. He waited a moment, then said, “This is Donald Mundy, could I speak to Bob Brentwood, please?”

  Bob Brentwood was an old friend of Dad’s, one of his oldest. They’d grown up together. Bob was a Sheriff’s deputy. A few months ago, he’d broken his arm in a fall while hiking and he was stuck at a desk at the Sheriff’s station in Anderson until his arm was out of its cast.

  “Hi, Bobby,” Dad said. “Can you get away for a little bit? Something’s come up. Something… urgent. I can’t explain on the phone. Meet me in ten minutes in front of Mrs. Kobylka’s house.” He paused a moment. “Yes, Mrs. Kobylka’s, you heard me right. See you there.” He closed the phone and dropped it back in his pocket. He nodded toward the bathroom and said, “Wrap her up in something. We’re going to see Mrs. Kobylka.”

  “We already saw her,” Kirk said. “She wouldn’t help us.”

  “That’s because you didn’t know what to ask for, and we don’t have time for you to figure it out for yourself. Let’s go.”

  3.

  They put Natalie, wrapped in the sheet and afghan and wearing Kirk’s old sneakers, into the back of Dad’s Dodge Durango. Liz was horrified by the maggots crawling out of Natalie’s crushed face and started crying again as she said, “That is so fucking wrong.” Kirk sat in the front seat with Dad, Randy and Liz in the seat behind them. They rolled down all the windows because of the smell.

  “Why are you home so early, Dad?” Kirk asked.

  “I took half the day off. I was going to have some lunch and then spend the afternoon Christmas tree shopping.” Dad was a perfectionist when it came to finding the right Christmas tree and could shop for one all day long until he was satisfied.

  From the rear of the SUV, Natalie said, “Hungry,” as Dad started the engine.

  “Oh, Jesus, she’s hungry again,” Liz said. “She’s gonna put on weight.”

  “Dad, why is Natalie like that? Why does she want to eat… people?”

  “She’s craving what used to flow through her body––blood, energy, life. Eating the living gives her a taste of that. But it’s never enough.”

  “How do you know?

  “It’s not something I know, but I’ve had a lot of time to think about it and that’s what I believe. You’ll think about this a lot, too, Kirk. There will be nights when you won’t be able to sleep.”

  “What happened with your dog?” Randy asked.

  “We lived over by the river when I was a kid, near the park,” Dad said. “My dad had built a fort in the back yard for me. It was a thing of beauty, like a miniature log cabin. I kept Duke in there. But it was summer, and a hot one, and he started to stink pretty fast. And all he did was howl miserably. There was a patch of woods between our back yard and the Sacramento River and I took Duke down there and tied him to a tree close enough to the river to get a drink. He was howling when I left, he howled all night, and he was howling the next morning when I went to him. He smelled bad, and he didn’t look good, but I thought if I took him for a walk, he might stop howling. He did, while we walked. I took him over to the edge of the park. There were a few women there with several small children, a couple babies, and a few dogs. We were walking along the edge of the park, and Duke just took off. He caught me off guard and the leash slipped right out of my hand. He didn’t make a sound. He snatched up a little terrier and ran off to the bushes and ate it. We were out of there before anyone missed the dog. Duke had blood all over his muzzle and he licked his chops all the way back to his tree. I washed his muzzle off at the river, and then he curled up as if to take a nap. He’d stopped howling. He didn’t make a sound until the next morning.”

  In the backseat, Randy and Liz leaned forward and listened closely. Behind them, Natalie said, “Hungry.”

  Dad said, “I took Duke walking along the edge of the park again the next morning. The women and all their children and babies and dogs were back. They had their blankets spread out and a large picnic basket open. They were looking for the dog. They were walking all around that area of the park calling his name. Rufus, they called him. I figured Duke would go after another of the little dogs. Keeping him fed was the only way to keep him from howling until I figured out what I was going to do with him. I unhooked the leash from his collar and he took off without a sound. But he snatched up one of the babies and took it
into the bushes. And ate it. The baby never made a sound. Everyone was looking for the dog, and again, we were out of there before anyone knew what had happened.” He said nothing for several seconds, then muttered, “A baby.”

  “Is that what keeps you awake some nights?” Kirk asked.

  “That’s part of it,” Dad said. “In my nightmares, I always see Duke eating the baby. And in some of them, I’m eating the baby. Because it was my fault. Just as if I’d done it myself. But I stayed in those bushes, out of sight, while my dog did that. My blood-thirsty dog that, because of me, had been risen from the dead.” He looked at Kirk a moment, then at Randy and Liz in the rearview, back at Kirk, then at the road again. “That’s how you’ve got to think of this. I don’t know whose idea it was, or how deeply you’re involved, Randy and Liz, but––”

  “It was my idea, and I did it,” Kirk said. “They were there, but they didn’t participate. I’m the one who brought Natalie back.”

  “Then all this is your responsibility. The ferret, and Wyatt Parks… anyone she hurts. And you’re responsible for what’s going to happen to her.”

  “What’s going to happen to her?” Kirk asked.

  “Mrs. Kobylka will tell you.”

  “Why does something have to happen to her?” Kirk said. “Besides, it’s not Natalie. It’s just her body. Like Duke––he was different, right? Not the same dog after you brought him back? It wasn’t Duke, right?”