Dead Horizon Part 8

He brought the object closer and examined it. Sure as s.h.i.t, he wasn't seeing things. What he'd pulled out of the ground wasn't a piece of rotten wood, it was half a f.u.c.king arm, with the G.o.dd.a.m.n hand still attached to it.

"Ho-ly s.h.i.t," Freddie croaked.

He knelt beside the spot where he'd torn the arm out of the ground and started digging, not entirely sure why he felt compelled to look for the rest of the corpse. A hand probably had a corpse attached, right?

This was f.u.c.ked up. What the h.e.l.l was he doing? Anybody in his right mind would be getting the f.u.c.k away from here, not digging in the dirt for something long dead and buried.

But he kept right on digging, so maybe he wasn't in his right mind after all. He dug and dug, piling dirt off to the side as the hole got deeper. He was on a mission now. He wanted to find the rest of the f.u.c.king corpse, and his efforts were rewarded.

"I'll be a monkey's b.a.l.l.s," Freddie said.

He dug some more, exposing a face that was most definitely in the advanced stages of decomposition. Maggots and worms slithered in and out of empty eye sockets, and the lower jaw was nearly gone, hanging by a strand of decomposed flesh.

"Jesus, wait till everybody seesa""

The corpse reached up and grabbed Freddie around his throat. Before Freddie could say Romero, it dragged him into the shallow grave.

Freddie fought like h.e.l.l. The corpse tried to bite him, but there wasn't enough strength in its lower jaw to take hold. Freddie punched it in the head until the skull shattered, sending earthworms and maggots everywhere. Science fiction wasn't the only kind of movie Freddie liked to watch. He'd seen his fair share of zombie flicks too, and he knew you had to go for the head to kill a f.u.c.king zombie. No two ways about that, a head shot was the only way to take them out.

Freddie hauled his cookies then, running full throttle to where his friends were partying, going on as if they hadn't even missed him. Marcie was dancing topless, shaking her t.i.tties like some exotic dancer, and Jimmy Ray was watching her. Patty was sitting on Jimmy Ray's lap. Roscoe was beating his meat and gulping beer.

"Jimmy Ray, man, there's some f.u.c.ked up s.h.i.t goin' on. We gotta f.u.c.kin' get out of here."

"What are you worked up about?" Jimmy Ray said. "Where's the f.u.c.kin' firewood?"

"Screw the wood, man. Aren't you hearin' me? I was attacked by a f.u.c.kin' corpse."

Jimmy Ray and Patty stared at him as if he'd just landed in a s.p.a.ceship. Roscoe was still watching Marcie and beating his meat.

Jimmy Ray and Patty suddenly broke out laughing.

"You're a f.u.c.king trip," Jimmy Ray said when he finally stopped laughing. "That's some funny s.h.i.t. Come on, grab a beer and sit."

"I'm not joking, Jimmy Ray," Freddie said. "The creek's glowing. I think there's some weird s.h.i.t in it that brought the corpse back to life."

Jimmy Ray slapped his leg and stomped his foot. "Aw, Jesus, dude, you're trippin' outta your mind. Get the f.u.c.k outta here."

When it was obvious to Freddie he wasn't getting anywhere with Jimmy Ray and Patty, he tried Roscoe and Marcie. They were less interested in what he had to say and more interested in each other.

Marcie shimmied out of her shorts; she wasn't wearing panties. Roscoe crawled over to her on his hands and knees, grabbed her soft a.s.s, and pulled her to him, burying his face in her p.u.s.s.y as she continued to dance.

"Whoa, check it out," Jimmy Ray said, nudging Patty in the side with his elbow as he pointed to Roscoe and Marcie. "That b.i.t.c.h is h.o.r.n.y."

"Forget all this s.h.i.t and let's go, Jimmy Ray," Freddie said, the words tumbling out in a whine.

"You go if you want to," Jimmy Ray said, then he turned to Patty. "Suck my d.i.c.k, baby."

She slid to her knees and fumbled around until she had Jimmy Ray's hefty d.i.c.k in two hands and the head of it in her mouth.

"Enjoy that s.h.i.t, man," Freddie huffed. "That's the last b.l.o.w.j.o.b you'll be gettin' if you don't leave with me now. I'm gettin' outta here. Last chance to come with me, and if you don't, I'm sorry for ya."

n.o.body was paying attention to Freddie now. f.u.c.k 'em, it was their funerals. Let them stick around and become zombie bait, but not Freddie. He wasn't going to let some dead f.u.c.ker eat his brains. He didn't have a lot, but he was smart enough to know he intended to keep what he had.

"f.u.c.kin' pansy," Jimmy Ray said, then turned back to Patty, who was jerking and slurping his bone with her best impression of a Hoover.

Roscoe was balling Marcie. She was on all fours while Roscoe made like a cowboy, gripping her soft hips so hard his knuckles turned white.

"Yeeeeee-ha," Jimmy Ray called to his buddy.

Marcie's dark hair half hid her face. Her mouth was open and her eyes were partially closed. Her t.i.ts swung back and forth with the rhythm of Roscoe's thrusting hips. Marcie didn't appear to be enjoying, or not enjoying, herself. She was just there. Roscoe, on the other hand, banged away, enjoying Marcie's p.u.s.s.y despite her lack of partic.i.p.ation.

"Grab one of those t.i.tties for me," Jimmy Ray said.

Roscoe accommodated the request, leaning up to scoop one of Marcie's big t.i.ts in his hand. He tugged at the nipple, which he swore was the size of a f.u.c.kin' bullet, and no matter how hard he twisted and pulled on it, Marcie showed no sign of pain or pleasure.

Patty pulled her mouth from Jimmy Ray's c.o.c.k and started jerking.

"Open wide, baby," he said.

He moaned just as his d.i.c.k exploded. The first squirt splashed Patty's cheek. She quickly stuffed his c.o.c.k in her mouth to finish him off. Jimmy Ray closed his eyes and groaned with pleasure, so lost in the heat of the moment that when the dead hands broke through the ground to grope him, he thought they were Patty's hands.

Patty screamed.

Jimmy Ray wasn't finished coming. He tried to pull Patty's mouth back to his c.o.c.k, but she swung with a hard right that caught him on the side of his head, causing him to see stars.

"Oww, G.o.ddammit, b.i.t.c.h," he bellowed.

Then Jimmy Ray realized Patty was too far away to have her hands on him. He looked down at the gray fingers clutching his legs, then he screamed like a girl and tried to stand, only to find himself back on his a.s.s.

The corpse worked its way out of the grave, using Jimmy Ray for leverage. How the f.u.c.k could something so dead have so much strength? The f.u.c.ker already had its head and shoulders above ground. Jimmy Ray kicked at it. The heel of his boot collided with its face, chipping away a hunk of dough-colored bone.

Patty found her voice and managed to scream as other corpses dug themselves out of the ground. Roscoe was finally back in the game, struggling to pull up his pants. Marcie was still on her hands and knees, oblivious to what was happening, and only mildly aware that Roscoe's d.i.c.k was no longer inside her.

Jimmy Ray grabbed Patty by the hand and took off, pulling her along behind him. She stumbled and fell; Jimmy Ray kept going, dragging Patty as best as he could while she was down.

"Get the f.u.c.k up or I'll leave you," he said, and he meant every word of it. Chivalry was not his strong suit, he was happy to say.

Regardless, he tried to haul her up by the arm, but she wouldn't budge. That's when he realized a corpse had Patty by her ankle. Jimmy Ray gave one more good yank, trying to wrench Patty free, but when he couldn't do it, he let go of her hand, blew her a kiss, and ran like the wind.

He didn't get far before a big black corpse blocked his way. The thing was naked, with st.i.tching running from its navel to its throat. It opened its mouth as if to speak, spilling maggots all over the ground. Jimmy Ray took a step backward. The dead thing lunged. Jimmy Ray tried to get out of its way, but the zombie was quick. The weight of it sent Jimmy Ray sprawling.

The corpse hovered above Jimmy Ray, its mouth open and dripping maggots onto Jimmy Ray's face. He screamed, and when he did, the plump, slimy bugs dropped into his mouth.

Jimmy Ray pushed with as much strength as he could muster, heaving the dead black thing off. He spit the maggots from his mouth and tried to stand, but before he got to his feet, another corpse was standing beside him, and this one looked familiar to Jimmy Ray. It was skeletal except for bits of leathery skin and a few sprigs of gray hair. There was just enough definition to show off the family resemblance.

"Great Granddaddy . . . ?" Jimmy Ray groaned.

The black zombie lumbered over and joined Great Granddaddy for dinner. They dragged Jimmy Ray's intestines from his belly and played tug of war as they feasted on his slippery, still-pulsating entrails.

Four corpses were kneeling around Patty, tearing at her flesh until they laid her open and fought over her organs. She died with her eyes wide open, and the last thing she thought was that Freddie should have been her boyfriend, not Jimmy Ray.

More corpses joined the parade. A shambling skeleton in a tattered Union soldier uniform and a woman in a blue grave-dirt encrusted gown were feasting on Roscoe, whose stomach lay open like a b.u.t.terfly with its wings extended. The woman had her hands inside him, squishing around like she was searching for buried treasure. She came out with a gall bladder and stuffed it into her mouth. The Union soldier groped for it with a bony hand, but she turned away, greedily hogging the morsel.

Marcie was in her element. This was what she had always dreamed of, an orgy of the dead, and all of a sudden she wasn't so out of it any more. She felt every dead hand upon her naked flesh, the cold, decaying c.o.c.k poking her p.u.s.s.y until it finally slid inside her, and the kiss of the dead as they began to devour her with orgiastic delight.

The living dead began to wander aimlessly. Pale moonlight spilled over the cemetery, illuminating the carnage that lay there. Dead things crawled and shuffled and ambled, some picking at the remains of Jimmy Ray, Patty, Roscoe, and Marcie, and when there was nothing left for them in the cemetery, they began a slow trek to the outside world, searching for life beyond the grave. . . .

Lucky Dog.

Jake remembered Lucky. That was the name he'd given his German Shepherd. Lucky hadn't been so lucky the day he ran out into the highway to fetch the old ball he liked to play with, though. A car had smacked into him. Its front b.u.mper had busted Lucky's hip and ripped the flesh from his right side, exposing his ribcage.

Jake had known there was no hope for his beloved dog. He knelt with Lucky that day, in the middle of the street, and held him in his arms. Lucky had stared up at him through lifeless eyes, panting, his tongue lolling to one side of his mouth.

Jake felt blood running over his hands and saw the exposed, gleaming ribs. He cried while Lucky died in his arms.

Now Jake stood outside the cemetery where he'd buried Lucky. n.o.body knew it, of course. Burying an animal in a human cemetery wasn't something people looked at with much enthusiasm. Jake's folks had suggested the backyard, but Jake hadn't wanted Lucky that close. He didn't want to have to look at a spot in his yard every day and know that his faithful companion was rotting away there.

Lucky had been faithful. That much was a fact. Jake wasn't one of the most popular kids at school. He was always a target for some bully. At least, he'd always been a target until Lucky came along. Lucky had defended him on more than one occasion. Now he was on his own again.

"I'm bringing you back home, Lucky," he said. "I thought you'd be okay here, but it isn't right. I miss you too much."

He picked up the shovel and began digging at the spot where he'd buried Lucky. He knew the spot because it was near the tree where he and Lucky had shared a few picnic lunches together. He'd always shared his food with Lucky. They liked the same stuff.

"Guess you can be in the backyard after all. I thought it would be too sad, but it's worse with you way out here."

He hadn't buried Lucky very deep. Another couple of feet was all he had to go. He drove the shovel into the ground again, lifting away the dirt and tossing it to the side.

"If I get caught out here, I'm going to get in so much trouble," Jake said aloud. "How would I explain this?"

As he neared the point where he believed he was close to reaching Lucky, he dug more carefully.

Then he heard voices in the distance. Sounded like a bunch of kids. As the voices grew nearer, he recognized one or two of them and realized it was Dirk and Dirk's friends. If they found him out here, they'd have a field day with him. He was their favorite target.

He wanted to run, but he didn't know which way to go. He couldn't tell which direction their voices were coming from, just that they were getting close. If they ran across him out here in the dark, alone in the cemetery, they would work him over good.

He looked for someplace he could hide. There had to be someplace where they wouldn't find him if they came this way. The last thing Jake wanted was to run into Dirk and his three buddies.

His heart pounded so hard he could hear it.

The voices grew louder.

Jake looked around, hoping see the boys before they saw him, but there was no such luck.

"Hey, you, a.s.shole," Dirk's voice boomed.

Jake spun around and saw Dirk, Eddie, Vaughn, and Harry coming toward him. The looks on their faces was the same look you'd see on a hungry animal, and they were hungry all right. Hungry for his blood. They would do their best to make him suffer.

He clutched the shovel tighter in his hand. Maybe he should use it to whack them upside their heads. That would teach them a lesson. He could bust their heads wide open. They'd never pick on him again.

"What are you doin' in our graveyard?" Dirk demanded.

The boys were spreading out to circle him, blocking all escape routes; Dirk was set to attack.

"I asked you a question, dweeb," Dirk said.

"It's not your graveyard," Jake replied.

"Are you getting smart with me?"

Dirk shoved Jake. He tripped and fell to the ground. One of the boys kicked him in the side of the head, then another one, and finally they were all around him. He felt one after another kick him. He could hear them laughing all the while. His ribs hurt, his head hurt, and he felt blood running from his nose and into his mouth.

Then it was quiet. The four boys were still there, looking down on him. Dirk had something in his handa"a tree limb by the looks of it. He was raising it, drawing it back to swing. Jake braced himself for it as best as he could, afraid that his life was about to come to an end.

Something drew Dirk's attention, then Jake heard it too. It was a low growl. All the boys watched as the dirt shifted where Lucky was buried.

"What the h.e.l.l is that?" one of them asked.

Jake didn't know who asked the question. His eyes were focused on Lucky's grave, where dirt fell away as the German Shepherd rose from the ground, snarling and foaming at the mouth.

Lucky wasn't alive. His ribs were still exposed, only now there were lots of maggots crawling around inside him. His eyes had mostly rotted away, and his body was hairless, sheathed only in dead, leathery skin that clung to the big dog's skeletal frame.

Dirk and his three buddies were frozen in place. They'd completely forgotten about Jake. Their attention was focused squarely on the dead thing rising from the dirt. They had no idea what they were looking at, but Jake knew his faithful companion was rising to his defense once again.

Lucky was back, and he was p.i.s.sed off.

Before the boys could begin to piece together anything that would make sense, Lucky took two shambling steps toward Eddie, who was the nearest of the boys, and lunged. Lucky took Eddie to the ground. Eddie tried to kick the big dog away, but Lucky's teeth snapped, tearing half of Eddie's face off.

Eddie screamed and groped at the spot where skin had once covered his cheek, but his fingers sunk into the b.l.o.o.d.y hole that had taken the place of skin and bone. Before Eddie could register the extent of the damage, Lucky ripped out a large chunk of his throat.

Lucky turned to face the rest of the boys.

Vaughn was the first to turn tail and run. Lucky went after him and stopped him before he made it ten feet. Lucky lunged and took Vaughn down from behind, quickly ripping out his throat.

Dirk snapped out of his haze. He ran to where the dead dog was finishing up with Vaughn and brought the heavy stick back, swinging it as hard as he could. The stick connected with Lucky and knocked the dog sideways, causing him to stumble.

Without wasting time, Dirk turned on Jake, who was still on the ground.

"What the h.e.l.l do you know about that thing?" he yelled at Jake, poking at him with the stick.

Before Jake could answer, Harry screamed out. His screams were cut short by Lucky's vicious snarling. From the looks of it, Harry had tried to make a run for it, but Lucky was faster. The dog's jaws were dripping blood and flesh, and Harry was on the ground, dead.

Dirk charged the dog again, swinging the stick at Lucky and missing. The force of the swing caused him to stumble forward and land face first on the ground. He lost the stick in the process.