Patrick D'Orazio - Into the Dark

Ray moved beside him, the Beretta pointed at the metal box. He looked over at Teddy and whispered, “I heard something, I’m sure. I think a slug crawled in there and is just waiting for us to get close.”

“Are you positive? Wouldn’t the dumpster be moving? I mean, it would have heard us talking, right?”

Ray paused, considering as Teddy inched forward. He swallowed hard as he walked next to his friend. Ray was the closer of the two to the dumpster, and with every step they took, he could feel his heart beating faster. They stopped when they were about ten feet away. There was no movement or sound coming from the metal box.

“Switch places with me,” Teddy said.

“Huh? Why?”

“Because I have the rifle,” Teddy explained. “I’m going to lift the lid with the barrel. That way if one of those things is inside, it won’t be able to grab me.”

Ray nodded. “Okay, good plan. But before you do, I’m going to check around the corner. Last thing we need is one of those things springing up on us while you’re checking out the dumpster.”

Teddy nodded and moved forward a little, angling away from the building. Ray inched toward the edge of the building, holding his pistol out like he had seen every cop and criminal do on TV and in movies his entire life.

Tensing, Ray sprang to the corner. He remembered the pain from before and gently pressed against the brick surface instead of slamming his back against it this time. He absently pushed his glasses up his nose with the barrel of the gun. Tightening his grip on the weapon, he paused, listening. Nothing. Not a breeze, not even the sound of a cricket. He blinked several times and swiveled his head around the corner.

He pulled back quickly, expecting a hand to be reaching for him. When one didn’t, Ray swallowed hard and tilted forward again.

The high grass ran all the way across the back of the general store. It was thick in most places, but there were several bald spots where gravel was mixed in with soil. The grass was thick enough to hide someone, but there was no movement. Ray looked at the field that stretched back behind the building and let his breath out. His shoulders slumped as he relaxed. Lowering the gun, he wiped the sweat from his forehead with his other arm.

“All clear.” He turned to face the dumpster, but did not raise his gun again.

Teddy nodded. The muzzle of the old Springfield dipped toward the overhanging lip of the right dumpster lid as he prepared to flip it open. Looking one last time at Ray to make sure he was ready, Teddy sent the lid flying up and over the iron box.

It slammed into the back of the dumpster with a resounding BOOM that echoed off the buildings surrounding the two teens. Both boys jumped at the sudden noise. It was the loudest thing either had heard in a long time.

Teddy saw nothing from his vantage point and stepped forward, moving the rifle into the container. He had kept his distance when flipping the lid, but the loud noise changed his perspective on things. They needed to get back to the front doors of the store before the adults discovered them screwing around. He knew that Jeff and George had probably heard the noise, and Marcus might have as well.

He surveyed the darkened dumpster and saw it was halfway filled with trash. Teddy did not bother lifting the other lid, giving the other side only a vague glance. Instead, he turned to Ray.

“We need to get back to the front of the store, now. This shit is going to-”

Ray was nodding when Teddy cut off and stumbled forward. He slipped and fell, jamming his left arm up against the metal edge of the dumpster. His rifle kept moving forward, and he almost lost his grip on it.

Ray stepped away from the wall, ready to laugh at the klutzy maneuver, just before he saw a hand reaching out of the dumpster.

He watched in horror as the appendage landed on the top edge of the container next to his friend. Teddy didn’t react immediately as another hand became visible, the one that had yanked on the barrel of the rifle.

Teddy noticed the first hand about a second after Ray, but he did not move, even as it slid toward him. The other hand still had a hold on his weapon, to which Teddy now barely clung. He did not see the head that followed both hands out into the light like Ray did. Teddy adjusted his grip on the rifle, pulling on it hard, which helped yank the man who had a hold of it free of the prison in which he had been trapped for the past few weeks.

Ray watched as a ghostly white head peeked out of the trash receptacle. It rose into daylight as Teddy continued tugging on his rifle. A large chunk of the slug’s forearm was gone, but most of his face was still intact. He made eye contact with Ray and opened his jaws. No sound came out, and a moment later, Ray saw why. Its throat had been ripped free, and tendons and gristle dangled and flopped against the creature’s chest. It appeared as if they had been yanked out by hand rather than shredded with teeth. A barely audible bubbling hiss emanated from the hole in its neck as the ghoul grabbed the side of the dumpster and slithered out.

Teddy saw the man’s face and finally let go of the rifle, darting back out of the range of its hands. The rotter wobbled momentarily, but kept its balance on the edge of the trash bin. It took a swipe at Teddy, who promptly tumbled backwards. The mangled man toppled over the side and out of the container to follow him. It fell in front of Teddy and landed on its shoulder. There was an audible snap as the monster’s collarbone broke. Lifting its head, it attempted a moan at the teen who was whimpering pitifully and trying desperately to scoot away from the dumpster. The dead man’s shattered legs flopped uselessly as its body quivered with excitement.

The slug latched onto one of Teddy’s shoes and held on tight as the teenager let out a full-throttle scream and frantically tried to shake the creature off. The boy screamed again, this time in pain, as the creature clamped down hard on his ankle. Its arm flapped wildly as Teddy jitterbugged, but the fingers only tightened their grip. It slid forward, clawing the ground with its other hand in an attempt to gain purchase on the smooth surface. Two fingernails peeled back, and the pockmarked skin underneath ruptured, splitting as its small finger bones clawed even harder on the asphalt.

Teddy landed a sharp kick with his free leg and caved in the ghoul’s nose. Its head rocketed backwards, but the hands continued pulling it toward the boy. As its head came back down after the kick, the teen swore that the slug was smiling at him. The blackened tongue wiggled in its mouth as the monster moved closer to Teddy’s leg.

Three shots rang out in quick succession, startling Teddy as he prepared to kick at his assailant again. The first bullet made the rotting body jump; the second hit its shoulder, sending a spray of bone fragments and shredded flesh into the air. There was no blood, but the arm wobbled. The third shot sheared off the back of its skull along with a sizeable chunk of brain matter. The monster glared at Teddy a moment longer and then collapsed on its jaw, which slammed shut as it hit the ground. The milky white irises remained fixed on Teddy as the boy wrestled his foot free from the ghoul’s clenched fist. He scrambled backwards, desperate to put some distance between him and the corpse.

“Holy shit, I got him!”

Ray had barely stirred the whole time the infected man attacked his friend. The only things he had moved were his arm and his trigger finger. A small wisp of smoke curling up from the barrel was the only hint that he had done anything at all.

“I nailed that thing! Yeah!” Ray raised the gun above his head and roared in exhilaration. It was the first time he had fired the weapon and the first infected he had ever killed. He felt ecstatic.