Rise of the Mudmen

by Thompson, James FW

  Alex couldn’t force himself to watch. As much as he hated Jared, he couldn’t stand to see him torn apart by the mudmen. The screams were bad enough, and they seemed to last forever. Whatever they were doing to Jared in that dark, horrible hole, they were taking their time with it. Alex didn’t know if they were fighting over the meat, or if they were just savouring their meal. He didn’t want to know.

  Instead, he dragged himself a few feet to lie with his dog. Hot, wet spots marked where Jared’s knife had pierced her. She was still breathing, though each breath came out as a whimper. When he patted her head, she licked him weakly.

  “I love you so much, girl,” he said, burying his face into her wet fur. “Thank you. Thank you so, so much. I love you!”

  She lifted her head and looked behind her. When he did the same, he saw Ryan sitting on the other side of her, also patting her.

  “Be okay?” he asked Alex.

  Alex nodded, not sure if Ryan meant the dog or him, and put his head back on Shadow. He closed his eyes and let the cold and darkness wash over him.

  AFTER

  ALEX

  “He’s waking up,” a voice said from the darkness. “Grab that pillow.”

  Alex opened his eyes and it felt like someone had cracked him across the temple with a golf club. He closed them quickly, hoping the pain would subside. Hoping that everything had been a dream: there were no mudmen, no emergency, everyone was fine in their homes with their families. When the pain didn’t fade at all—in fact, he felt it all over his body—he knew it was all too real.

  He did, however, force himself into a seated position, despite the pain he felt in his wrist as he did so. It hurt, but not as much as before. He assumed he was just getting used to it.

  “Grab me that cloth, and some water, too, if you can find any,” said the same voice as before. He realized, with a surprise, that it was Nicole. She had somehow found him and Ryan and—

  “Shadow!” He forgot about the pain in his wrist. He looked around frantically, barely registering that he was no longer outside. “Where is she? Is she—?”

  “She’s right here,” Nicole said, as she walked over to him with a wet rag in hand. “She won’t leave your side. As always.” She tried to gently shove Alex back down onto—he just realized as she did it—a couch. He resisted, feeling the pain shoot through his body as he did so, and reached down to pet his dog. Bandages wrapped each of her front legs and one large one circled around her chest. Red spots showed where blood had leaked through the lower wrappings.

  “Is she ... is she okay?” Alex asked, the words barely coming out through his tears.

  “I think she’ll be okay,” Nicole replied, trying and succeeding this time to push Alex back down onto the couch. “The bleeding has stopped, and nothing important got hit, as far as I can tell. She just needs rest. So do you, by the way.”

  Alex tried to relax, but it was hard after all that had happened. He sat up again, suddenly. “Jared! What happened to—”

  Nicole put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him down. She looked stricken for a moment, silently staring at him. She looked like she had something to say, but couldn’t find the words.

  “Is he ...” Alex started, swallowing at the thought of the last time he had seen his lifelong bully. “Is he dead?”

  Nicole nodded, then turned away. “Very.”

  Alex lay back down. He looked around. It was someone’s living room—a small one, so one flashlight provided enough light for him to see. “Where are we?”

  “Some house,” Nicole said as she stood, and moved to sit on a chair a few feet away. “Had to break in, but figured it would be easier to take care of you guys here than outside.”

  Alex nodded, glad to be out of the cold and away from that filthy pit. “How did you find me?”

  Nicole shrugged. “I didn’t. I found Ryan, and he took me to you and your dog. Jared was ... gone by the time I got there. Shadow looked at me but didn’t move. You were out. We carried you out of the woods, and this is the first house we came to. I wanted to take Shadow out first, but she wanted otherwise. She got up as soon as we tried to move her and nudged you. She followed us all the way here.” She reached down and patted the dog’s back legs. “She’s a real good dog, you know.”

  “I know,” Alex said with a smile, closing his eyes again. “A real life saver.” He could feel himself starting to relax, his eyes getting heavier, but he didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to know what was happening. What had happened since he went unconscious out in the woods. Again. “Where’s everybody else?” he managed to ask, though the words were mumbled through oncoming sleep.

  Nicole answered—he heard her voice, but he was asleep before he could understand what she said.

  Alex woke again when the heard the door open.

  He tried to sit up, but when his wrist hurt, he stopped. He examined it; the hand was straight again. It felt different. He could feel and move his fingers, though it still hurt.

  He leaned on the other arm, which was also sore, but not nearly as much, and peered over the side of the couch to the door. Nicole stood in the doorway with David, Kaitlyn, and Hannah. When the group came into the room and he turned around, he saw Ryan sleeping—or at least lying silently—on the floor, his arm draped over Shadow as she also slept.

  After everyone greeted him, giving him hugs—he noticed quite happily that Kaitlyn gave him a particularly long hug—he looked to Nicole. “How did you fix my arm?”

  She looked at him. “You don’t want to know. It was gross.”

  Kaitlyn smiled at him and shrugged. “Happened to my uncle once. Nicole’s right, though—it was gross actually doing it.”

  He looked back at his arm. It was swollen and achy, but that was it. He remembered when his cousin, Dennis, broke his arm and needed pins to hold it together. It was swollen too, but it also turned purple, and had a giant jagged looking scar over it where they had to cut it open. His was just swollen. “Shouldn’t I have a cast or something?”

  “That’s only if it’s broken,” Kaitlyn said, shaking her head. “Your wrist was dislocated. I just had to ...” She grabbed onto her own wrist and slowly yanked on it.

  “Ugh!” David exclaimed. “Did it make that noise? The popping noise?”

  “Worse,” Nicole answered. “It was like that, but there were a few pops. Really sloppy ones. It was actually really gross.” She looked back at Alex, and nodded toward Kaitlyn. “You’re just lucky she likes you, ‘cause that was super gross, and she probably wouldn’t have bothered otherwise.”

  They sat around the living room, discussing what had happened since they split up at the community centre. David explained how they had waited at Hannah’s house—with the doors locked and barricaded—until Nicole came back to get them. Nicole explained how she followed Ryan until he ran off with Shadow and she had to call and call for him until he found her. Alex explained everything that happened with Jared.

  Then there was silence.

  When the sun came up fully, they were all asleep, sharing the couch, the chair, and the floor.

  They spent the rest of that day at the new house. With a little help, Alex was able to walk around. He had twisted his ankle in soccer on more than one occasion and he was always told to ‘walk it off,’ and he found that it usually worked. His wrist was sore, but other than that his hand and arm worked fine. He needed to rest—his whole body ached—but so did they all. They wouldn’t have to stay long before they could get back to their plan.

  Nicole was in the kitchen with David making a quick lunch—they were all starving since none of them ate much supper the night before, and no one thought to eat breakfast or lunch. With no immediate dangers around them, they felt safe enough to dig into their food supplies.

  Kaitlyn sat on the floor, flipping through a newspaper as Hannah did the kids’ crossword puzzle. Both seemed much calmer than they had been the day before. Alex was sure Hannah still had no idea about her father—Kaitlyn wouldn’t have told
her what he had seen in the pit. They could do that together later, when they all had a better chance to recuperate.

  With Ryan on the other side, Alex sat on the couch next to Shadow, rubbing her head. She slept through most of the day, moving only when Alex or Ryan called her. Alex wasn’t sure how Ryan was calling her. He knew the boy could talk—he had saved Alex’s life by doing so—but he wasn’t verbally calling Shadow. He just looked at her, and she went to him. It was strange.

  Eventually, the room darkened again, though the sun had not yet set. They drew the curtains for some sense of protection, and the flashlight provided the only light. Alex felt bored and needed a distraction.

  Movement caught his eye, and he turned to look. Something outside. He walked as quickly as he could—which was still rather slow due to his limp—to the window. He peeked through the crack in the curtain and saw a group of mudmen. Just three. At first, fear clutched at him, but he realized they weren’t after him. They weren’t even headed for the house. They were simply walking, like they were ordinary people going for a stroll. Or when flocks of birds end up walking in the same direction for no apparent reason. They were just ... there.

  And one of them looked familiar.

  Its face—or the giant bloody mass that was left—was so bloated he couldn’t tell at first who or what it was. Its clothes were filthy, beyond recognition. But it wore a sweater with a pattern that, though darkened with the usual black-red stuff that covered all of the mudmen, was unique. Alex gasped, staring at the mudman as it shuffled along with its two compatriots.

  Mr. Watts.

  He drew the curtain closed again and hobbled to the kitchen. “Where are we?” he asked Nicole.

  The next morning they moved to Alex’s house, just down the street. When they left, Alex recognized the house they’d been staying in. He had passed it the morning he had to go out searching for Shadow. The day all of this started. The last day he saw his father and baby sister.

  They saw some mudmen as they went, but always in the distance, moving in their little groups, taking no notice of the kids. They just went about their own business, whatever that was. Rather than risk an attack, the group would hide and wait or keep moving. They didn’t run into any trouble.

  Alex’s front door was unlocked when they got there, which made sense. Having been in full flight from Mr. Watts, he didn’t remember even closing it, let alone locking it. The front hall was still a mess—flyers and papers and shoes and coats all over the place.

  “There’s some food in the kitchen,” he said to David after a quick search showed that the house was free of mudmen. Or anyone else.

  Earlier, they’d decided to take turns with meals, and it was David’s turn to make lunch. Alex realized it would have made more sense for him to make lunch—it was his house and food, after all—but he didn’t want to argue with the plan, especially since it was Nicole’s. The rest of them looked through the shoes and coats, hoping to find some good stuff—it was turning much colder and soon they would need hats, mitts, scarves—anything to help them stay warm.

  “There’s a box of winter stuff in the closet,” Alex said to Nicole when she asked. “Up on the shelf.” He was about to walk over to the closet himself to get the winter goods when he stopped. He saw Kaitlyn looked confused; staring at a piece of paper.

  “What?” he asked her.

  Kaitlyn looked up at him. “What day is it? Like, what day of the month?”

  David ducked his head out from the kitchen, a box of cereal in his hand. “There’s a calendar in here!” he called, “I think it’s the fourth. Of November. Something like that.” After a pause he added, “It’s definitely November. I think.”

  Nicole sighed and shook her head as she pulled down the box of winter clothes.

  “Why?” Alex asked, walking toward Kaitlyn. “What’s that?”

  Kaitlyn handed the paper to Alex. “It’s from October twenty-eighth.”

  Alex read the note.

  ALEX—

  WE ARE LOOKING FOR YOU.

  IF YOU READ THIS, STAY HERE!

  WE WILL BE BACK IN TWO DAYS (OCT. 28).

  —DAD

  Alex stared at the note. His dad was alive! He was here last week! He was looking for him!

  But that was on October 28th. Or was he supposed to be back on October 28th? Either way, he was out there, looking for Alex. Whatever he had planned to do obviously didn’t work or he would have come back. Even if he didn’t stay, he would have left a new note. Alex tore through the piles of paper in the entrance and found no newer notes.

  He did the same thing in the kitchen—the window was boarded up where Mr. Watts had smashed his head through (Dad fixed that!)—and every other room in the house.

  There was no note.

  His dad was out there. Somewhere, looking for him.

  Alex stood in the hallway between the entrance and the kitchen. Everyone looked at him as he breathed heavily.

  “We have to go,” he said. “We have to find my dad.”

  Nicole stood up from her spot with the winter box and walked over to Alex. “We will,” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder looking straight into his eyes as they started to water. “We’ll find him, and we’ll find everyone else.”

  “You promise?”

  “I promise.”

  He knew she meant it, and smiled back at her.

  They only spent a few hours in Alex’s house, gathering supplies and eating the lunch David made, each with a side of stale sour cream and onion chips. Shadow had her own food and played with her stuffed stump-bear.

  Before they left, Alex checked out the front window and was glad that he did. Another group of the creatures was walking past the house, still without a care in the world.

  “It’s weird,” said a voice next to him.

  He turned, and David was kneeling next to him, also watching the creatures as they passed.

  “What is?” Alex asked him. What isn’t?

  “It’s like ...” David started. “It’s like they’re just ... animals, you know? Like they don’t know what they’re doing, and they don’t know that we’re watching them. It’s like ...” He stopped for a moment, and smiled. “Do you ever watch New Wilderness? With Lorne Green?”

  Alex smiled back at him, thinking back to a better time not that long ago. “Every week,” he replied as he closed the curtains and walked away from the window.

  Soon after, they headed out—six friends ready to face whatever challenges waited. They had to find their families—and keep each other safe. That was their goal, in the new wilderness.

  THE END

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to Sherry, Nancy, and Julie at Third Person Press for a) taking a chance on this novel and me, and b) going through the editing process with me (when I had no real editing experience to speak of) to make the book, well, better.

  Thanks to the Dead Puppets Society (my go-to team of writers/friends) for all their advice, assistance, and notes on this book (and pretty much everything else I write). It’s good to know that you guys always have my back.

  Thanks to George Romero for, you know, inventing the genre and all.

  And, finally, thanks to Erin and Seamus. I have spent a lot of time on this project (for one of you, the entirety of your existence!) and I hope that you find it was worth it. You are my favourite people and I could not/would not have done this (or much else, really) without you.

  -JFWT

  October 2017

  About the Author

  James FW Thompson got hooked on writing when he had a story published in the second grade. He’s been hooked on zombies ever since he saw “Army of Darkness” when he was the same age as David. Since then he has written many stories (a few zombie ones), award-winning plays, and the beginnings of about a dozen unfinished novels. It has always been his dream to finish one of those novels and have it published. Lo and behold, you’re now reading that dream.

  James is a teacher and theatre-person
born and raised in Cape Breton, where he lives with his wife, Erin, his son, Seamus, and two cats, Zombie and Kean. He likes board games, movies, and a good cup of tea.

  About Third Person Press

  Since its founding in 2007, Cape Breton writers, Julie A. Serroul, Sherry D. Ramsey and Nancy SM Waldman have published seven volumes of high-quality short fiction by local and regional authors.

  This small, independent press specializes in speculative fiction: science fiction, fantasy, horror and the other sub-genres that fall into the “unreal-fiction” category. The work—calling for, reading, evaluating, and responding to submissions; advising, editing, revising, proofreading, type-setting, illustrating, designing, formatting print and e-books; publicizing, launching and promoting the products—is accomplished part-time by these three busy women. It is definitely a labour of love.

  Close to forty talented writers have had their work published by Third Person Press and many more have received advice and encouragement for their writing. The press has now turned its attention to novels by writers from Atlantic Canada. Rise of the Mudmen is the first.

  Stay in touch:

  website: www.thirdpersonpress.com

  email: thirdpersonpress@gmail.com

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/thirdpersonpress/

  Twitter: @3rdpersonpress