Patrick D'Orazio - Coming the Dark

Jeff broke eye contact with her and looked back at the wall. Before Megan could continue her harangue, he pointed with the bat at the ghoulish figures congregating above.

“Look.”

Megan’s eyes narrowed in anger, but she bit her tongue as she indulged his request. She did a double take as she stared at the break in the barbed wire. The desire to argue further died as she was transfixed by the image.

More bodies were crowding up against the edge, bumping against those already standing there. From her vantage point, Megan couldn’t see how many were piling up from behind, but the noise was building. The sound that reached her ears was one of raw anguish and betrayal. She hugged herself, rubbing her arms to erase the chill of terror that never seem to disappear despite the heat. Her eyes darted over to Jeff. He was smiling and seemed relaxed, a look of greed in his eyes as his lips moved, silently speaking to his audience, coaxing them, urging them forward.

One finally fell off the edge. Neither Jeff nor Megan could tell whether it had decided to walk off or was pushed, or if the surging crowd had simply forced it off. It landed with a sickening thud at the bottom of the pit. Megan covered her eyes as she saw the head connect with the ground. It was rotten enough that it simply caved in, and the body flopped onto its back, its arms and legs spread wide.

“YES! I knew it!” Jeff yelled, pumping his fist and belting out a wild, defiant laugh.

Megan was doing her best to hold back her queasiness as Jeff did a victory dance. Though she wanted to keep her eyes shut, she felt the need to confirm that the person who had taken the leap would not be getting back up. The limbs twitched a couple of times and then stilled. It was dead.

“I knew those uncoordinated dumb fucks couldn’t navigate a ladder,” Jeff gloated and then pitched his voice toward the crowd. “That’s right you stupid fucktards! I’m talking about you. Not that you can understand a word I’m saying!”

He laughed maniacally as he egged them on. “Come on down! You’re the next contestant on The Price is Right !”

As if in response to his voice, two suddenly fell, and five more decided to walk off the edge immediately after. Soon they were like dominoes: more and more taking the plunge, either willingly or because of the surge of bodies pressing up behind them. The moans of the fallen echoed off the wall and through the trees. At first they seemed hesitant, but as more crowded around the gap in the wall, they came in a steady stream.

Jeff’s celebration slowed and then quieted when he saw a child up on the wall-a little girl with a tattered stuffed animal still clenched in one of her small hands. A single pigtail remained attached to the side of her skull. As she moved, taking her place at the front of the line, her eyes fixed on him. She never looked away even as she landed with a brutal thud on top of the pile of bodies.

They continued to plummet to the ground with sickening splatters of gristle and guts. A scant few landed on their sides or on top of several other bodies, cushioning the blow. As they tried to get up, others flattened them, pushing them back to the ground. The uncut barbed wire and surrounding fences served as a funnel. The infected were forced to jump from the highest point, and not a single one tried to use the ladder. Jeff watched as the solid mass up top kept feeding the pit below.

The little girl’s jump had dampened his sense of victory, and when he saw one of the bodies begin to wriggle free of the mass, he realized the fun was over. One of its arms dangled at an odd angle, and it could do no more than crawl, but it would gain its freedom soon enough. Jeff took a step back before he even realized it. Others were struggling to squirm free as well, and he reached over to grip Megan’s shoulder, pulling her away from the pit. He spared a brief glance up to the ledge and saw the crowd thinning out, but there were still plenty up there, waiting impatiently to take the plunge.

He turned to face Megan. “Okay.” He nodded toward the wall. “This will probably last a few more minutes. I want you to run back to your house through the woods. Be careful though, there might be more of them out there.” He saw the fear dawning on her face. “Stay low and keep your eyes open. I’m not staying much longer, but if we both leave now, the rest won’t follow their buddies into the ditch.”

Taking a step closer, he shoved the bat into her hands. “Take this. I swear I’ll be right behind you.” He looked her in the eyes and felt guilt at the fear he saw there, but he wasn’t prepared to leave, not just yet. And he knew that if Megan didn’t leave, she would be in hysterics in a matter of moments.

Jeff was prepared to argue with her, so he was surprised when all she did was swallow hard, giving the wall one final look before nodding at him. Megan looked like she was going to be sick, and he couldn’t blame her. This was a gruesome task, and there was no need for her to suffer through any more of it.

To Jeff’s surprise, she raised an arm and slid it around his neck. When her hand touched his flesh, he could feel the warmth in her fingertips. Megan pulled him gently toward her. He was even more surprised when she planted a gentle peck on his cheek. “Please be careful. I don’t want to lose you too.” She let go and stepped back, doing her best to ignore the pit and the bodies falling into it like lemmings.

Jeff gave her a sharp nod and clenched his teeth, doing his best to hide the pain he felt at her gesture of kindness. He turned back to the pit and closed his eyes, still feeling the warmth of Megan’s touch; a touch that gave him a sense of hope even as it stung, reminding him far too much of his wife and the tenderness they had shared.

Feeling helpless, Jeff wanted to scream or cry out, but knew he could do neither. He was lost in a world that was already dead.

With his eyes still closed, Jeff continued to listen as the moans diminished and the sound of wet, ruptured bodies smashing into the hard ground echoed all around him.

Megan cleared the small copse of trees, keeping an eye out for movement. The sounds of the infected faded as she gingerly climbed a fence into a neighbor’s backyard. The woods were too thick for her to comfortably navigate, and there were far too many places for those things to hide.

The house she was behind looked ruined, the sliding glass door shattered and scorch marks on the walls. Megan noticed a few broken chairs inside but tried to avoid looking closer, fearful of what else she might discover. Five minutes later, she was huffing and trying to catch her breath before she had to paw her way over yet another fence. The baseball bat proved an encumbrance when she needed to climb, but she was grateful to have it.

It was hard to tell where she was since the street curved and Megan could not pick out her own backyard off in the distance. It was hard to gauge how much farther there was to go. Bending over, she leaned against the fence and sucked in as much air as possible. Her joints ached, and her muscles burned. She was severely malnourished, having lived on stale crackers and stagnant water for several weeks.

Stretching her back, Megan heard a satisfying pop. She slowly began pulling herself over the fence, grunting with the effort. She wanted to sit for a little bit but knew that if she did, she wouldn’t want to get back up. Her landing in the next yard was heavy and agonizing. She stood slowly, eyes closed as she tried to stretch her stiff muscles again to avoid getting a Charley horse. When she opened her eyes, she was surprised to spot someone creeping out of the back door of the house.

The woman must have seen her from inside and moved to the porch. The split second of excitement Megan felt at seeing another person was immediately replaced with a dull lump of sadness. The stranger was one of them . Her throat had been ripped out, rendering her silent. Her lips were parted, her arms stretched in front of her as she shambled from the concrete patio to the lawn. Megan thought she saw the white of bone deep in the ragged strips of flesh hanging from the raw wound in her neck. The woman wore a dirty, bloodstained housecoat and the frayed black remains of what had once been fuzzy slippers. There were visible wounds besides the one to her throat. Her flesh was gray but holding together.