Mark Rogers - The Dead

The first corpse dragged itself close, tried to grab him; Max kicked it so powerfully in the side of the skull that the cadaver flipped completely over, onto its back. Then he rushed to rejoin Gary and Linda. Gary saw that his brother’s clothes were torn in a half-dozen places; blood oozed from a laceration on Max’s cheek.

They ran down the slope. The other mourners had already escaped; Gary’s Pinto was the only car left at the bottom. Dodging corpses still caught in the earth, leaping over clutching hands, they reached the car, ducked inside and slammed the doors. Gary fished his keys out and jammed them into the ignition. The engine turned over a few times, backfired, and stalled.

“Start, Goddammit!” Gary snarled, trying again. He looked out the window. They were coming, draggled emaciated figures, male and female, clothes hanging in rags, the earth of their graves still dropping from their limbs, their parchmented faces twisted into grinning masks of hate.

“They’ll tear the tires out!” Max cried.

Gary turned the key a third time. The motor growled and turned over. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the corpses closing, and knowing he had no choice, floored the pedal, fully expecting the engine’s fragile life to cough itself out.

The car lurched forward instead, bashing a tall female mummy in a ragged white dress to the pavement and jouncing over her.

Another corpse sprang in from the left, grabbing the door handle on Gary’s side. The car picked up speed, but the corpse hung on tenaciously, running alongside. It managed to keep pace for a dozen yards or so, then fell, but its bony grip remained locked on the handle. Dragging beside the car, it hauled itself forward with one hand, trying to latch the other onto the side-view mirror, its shrieks shrill torment to Gary even through the glass.

Gary veered toward a mausoleum, up onto the grass, sweeping in close to the granite facade. Just managing to snag the mirror, the corpse held on stubbornly as the building loomed near; then its head and shoulder met the stone blocks at forty miles an hour. There was a dull crack, and the shrieks were cut off. The mausoleum blurred past. The corpse was gone, the mirror with it. Gary steered back onto the road.

There was a bend up ahead. Rounding it, Gary saw an overturned car surrounded by the walking dead. He had no time to stop, even to swerve. With a dull crump! The Pinto’s front end slammed into the overturned vehicle’s underside near the tail. There was a burst of red and saffron fire as the wrecked car’s tank ruptured; trailing sheets of flame, the vehicle was hurled aside by the impact, and the Pinto drove ahead, hood splattered with burning gas.

But one of the front tires had been cut by a crumpled fender, and Gary lost control. The Pinto veered to the left, skidded as he slammed on the brakes, and smashed into a tree. The hood buckled in a burst of steam and Gary rocked forward, chipping a tooth on the steering-wheel.

Max grabbed at him from the rear seat.

Gary slumped back. “I’m all right,” he said, hand to his mouth. He turned to Linda. “Okay, babe?”

“Yeah,” she answered.

The engine had died. Gary tried the key. The starter didn’t even click.

“They’re coming,” Max cried, throwing open his door. “Run for it!”

They piled out. A backward look showed Gary that several corpses were racing their way, the rest remaining to pull still-struggling people from the burning car. Gary guessed he and Max could outdistance the pursuers, but his wife was no sprinter.

“Linda won’t make it,” he said.

“We’ll lose ‘em in the trees,” Max said.

There was woodland off to the right, pines and hollies set close together. Max leading the way, the trio dodged off the road, following a tortuous, twisting course. But after fifty yards or so they halted, trying to stifle their panting.

They could hear corpses crashing along behind them, drawing nearer for a short time, then apparently losing the trail. The sounds of pursuit grew more distant, finally fading altogether.

“Max,” Gary gasped.

“What?”

“Are we awake? Are we hallucinating, or what?”

“Wish we were,” Max said.

“Jesus, Max, the whole cemetery was coming to life.”

Max wiped sweat from his forehead, laughed mirthlessly. “Maybe not all of it.”

“You’re sounding mighty cool about all this!”

Max eyed him evenly. “The rest of the world’s unraveling. Will it help if I do too?”

Taken aback by the reply, Gary fell silent. What kind of point had he been trying to make anyway? Did he really want his brother to be as vulnerable and terrified as he was?

“But what’s happening? ” Linda asked, shivering. “Dead people don’t come back.”

“Sure fooled us, didn’t they?” Max answered.

Hollow with fear, Linda’s eyes sought Gary’s, seeking some kind of reassurance. But he knew there was no reassurance to be taken there. For her sake, he tried to crack a brave smile, but it was beyond him. A scant ten minutes ago, he’d seen his father rise dead and shrieking from the grave.

Deciding to put as much distance as they could between themselves and the road, they walked slowly eastward. They did not know what lay ahead. Would they find themselves in a development, or another section of the graveyard? River Rest was immense.

“Must be thousands of ‘em in this cemetery,” Gary said. “What are we going to do if they all come back? Where’ll we run?”

Max said nothing.

“What if they come spilling out of the graveyard?” Gary went on, a rising note of panic in his voice. “Do you think the cops can handle ‘em? The National Guard?”

Max halted. “Will you get a hold of yourself?”

“That’s easy for you to say!” Gary snapped. He felt like an idiot doing it, but he still wanted to get a rise out of Max, make him lose control, just one bit.

“No it isn’t,” Max said, voice simmering. “But you might get us all killed if you crack up. Understand?”

“I’m not going to crack up,” Gary said defensively.

“Then act that way.”

Ashamed of himself, Gary nodded. “Sorry. It’s just that… just that I’m…”

His voice trailed off as they started forward once more.

“Do you think they can be killed?” Linda asked.

“Are they alive?” Max asked. “That first one I fought-I gave it enough to kill three men. But they can be crippled, we know that much.”

“A statue fell on one,” Gary said. “Crushed its head flat . The damn thing pushed the statue off like it was nothing, got right to its feet.”

“I saw it too,” Max said.

“I couldn’t believe you took those two on,” Gary continued. “I was scared shitless. Me and Linda, we wanted to save Father Ted from Dad… from that thing … but we couldn’t get near them. The look on its face… how could you stand up to them?”

“I wasn’t going to watch you die,” Max said.

They pressed on a while in silence.

“What if this is happening all over the state?” Linda asked. “What if every graveyard in the country’s coming to life?”

“We don’t know that’s happening,” Max answered.

“Don’t we? What about all those murders? Those train-wrecks?”

“We don’t know who was responsible for all that.”

“Maybe they wanted recruits,” Linda said.

“You love to jump to conclusions, don’t you?”

“It’s all connected, just like I told you-”

She broke off. The trees were thinning out. Another broad stretch of cemetery showed ahead.

They stopped at the edge of the woods. Out among the monuments and mausoleums, nothing moved. There was no pounding from beneath the earth, but a dozen or so yawning holes were visible.