Jason Jones: Trailer Park Zombies

Thunder rattled the windowpanes three more times. Each one made me jump like I’d been shot. The night was quiet after the last one so I wondered if that was going to be it for the storm. It didn’t even look like it’d rained yet judging by the dryness of the window and sometimes God just let the sky knock at our doors a few times and then leave without the rain actually coming.

“What was that?” I muttered to myself.

I’d been looking at the window to see if it was wet and I could swear I’d seen a shadow flit by. It had paused and then moved on again. It wasn’t distinct enough to see what might be causing it, but something had definitely gone by my window. That wasn’t odd in and of itself since my window did face out onto the rest of the Acres, but no one should be that close.

I tried to rise out of bed but when I put my weight on my leg a sharp burst of pain radiated from my thigh and went straight to my mouth. I fought to hold back the scream and all that came out was a grunt. Tears rolled down my cheeks from holding in the hurt. Damn, I should have taken off my pants. The jeans around my thigh were swollen enough to fill in every crease. My thigh had swelled to at least twice its normal size.

I gingerly put that leg back down on the floor and tried to put weight on it. It hurt less now that I was geared up for the pain but it still hurt worse than it had when I went to bed. However many hours ago that was. Bracing myself for the pain and leaning on my wall with one hand I put my weight on both my legs and rolled to a standing position. I stood like that for a good 30 seconds or so and let the pain roll through me. I could do this. I could deal. Mind over matter.

The first step I took toward the window brought a hiss of pain to my lips. I was able to bite it back on the second step and by the third I was able to take my hand off the wall as I stumbled to the window. I uttered a small cry of victory as I reached the window, sparing a quick glance for Barrett splayed out a couple feet from me. He was sleeping heavier than the dead. Nothing was going to wake him up.

I moved the curtain and held it aside with one hand. It definitely hadn’t rained yet although I could see the lightning flickering off and on in the distance. Maybe we’d lucked out this time and missed the rain. Driving and walking through the gravel in the Acres was a pain at any time, let alone if it was wet with rain.

The Acres was completely and utterly dark. No street lights or gas lamps came from any of the trailers. I glanced at my watch: 3:00am. The witching hour. It was doubtful anyone was still up and most people would have just rolled over once they saw the lights were off. Nothing that needed to be dealt with this late at night.

I’d slept for a little over two hours and even though I’d been heavy with exhaustion when I lay down I was now completely awake. My heart still thudded a little bit in my chest. I couldn’t shake the feeling of the dreams and the wrongness that had pervaded it. Even though I could see nothing looking out my window it still seemed like things were a little off.

I’m sure it was just the nerves of what had occurred barely three hours ago, but still. I felt wired.

From my window I could see the back end of Barrett’s car and I could tell that something didn’t look right but I couldn’t figure out what it was. It seemed off, too. I knew his dad would kill him if something happened to that car and since I was wide awake anyway I figured I might as well go outside and check it out. He didn’t deserve to get in trouble over me. I’d shield him and Fannie Mae from everything that happened as much as I could.

There’s no way the cops wouldn’t zero in immediately on the trailer park and Tamara; and I had no faith that she’d be able to not say anything. I didn’t blame her at all, of course. She’d do whatever she needed to protect herself. There was a small chance that the cops would believe he’d raped her and she’d fought him off and knocked him into the monument and killed him. If they did that’d be the end of it, but there really wasn’t much chance of that happening. I’d watched enough CSI and Law and Order .

I picked a shirt up off the floor and put my shoes on. Hopefully no one in the park had messed with Barrett’s car. It was too nice of a car to park in a shithole like this and that was more likely than not to have attracted a few vandals. If there were scratches on it or dog crap thrown on the windshield at least I’d know who to go to: Donny Marsters across the way. He was 14, a freshman like Fannie Mae, and the resident leader of the pack of hoodlums. If someone’s car was broken into or something was missing from your trailer he was the one to go to. His mom almost always made him give the stuff back but it never seemed to stop him.

I grabbed my flashlight off my dresser. I kept one there for emergencies and for bathroom runs in the middle of the night. If mom or dad happened to be home and sleeping and I managed to wake them up there would invariably be a lot of screaming and yelling and general dismay. It was best to just avoid the problem. I never flushed either, but mom always blamed it on dad and dad never remembered if he’d flushed or not.

It always gave me the giggles when mom sat in the pee because I forgot to put the seat up and screamed at dad to come in there. I’d seen her get up and make dad sit on the wet toilet seat to see how he liked it. That one never got old.

Regardless, I slipped out the front door to the trailer (yes, trailers have back doors, too) and flicked the light on. I cocked my head at the total silence. Usually at least one dog or two was always barking. Hell, the Marsters had their own little pack of yipping mutts. And not one dog was making a sound. I shrugged and turned to Barrett’s car, letting the light play on the side of the car I’d seen from my bedroom window.

I froze, the light shaking in my hand.

Holy crap. Who would do this? Not even Donny Marsters would have done something like this. Deep gouges ran down the length of the soft top. It hung in tatters around its metal frame. It was caked in filth that looked like mud. All of the windows were coated in filth as well. I thought it was mud until I took several steps closer to the car and played the light on it fully.

Dark, red blood coated all the windows. Streaked as if someone had dragged their hands through it completely. It looked like someone had tried to wash the windows in blood. Or like something bloody had tried to get in the car from all angles and finally decided to tear through the top to get in.

I felt my heart rising in my chest again and tried to swallow it back down. My throat was suddenly as dry as an AA meeting. Maybe I should go back inside and check this out in the morning.

I backed away from the car. Took two whole steps and then collided into something that felt as solid as a tree. Something that hadn’t been there 30 seconds before when I’d walked through that space.

Oh shit.

4.

I drew in my breath to scream and that was when the thing reached out and put its hand over my mouth. It whispered my name, “ Duke. Duke .”

I struggled to free myself and that was when it registered that the voice speaking my name was Barrett’s. I slumped back against him.

“Bastard,” I said. “You scared the crap out of me.” I turned to him and he had that usual grin on his face, spreading his arms in a shrug as if to ask me what I expected. He was right. It was Barrett, what else should I expect?

He obviously hadn’t seen his car yet.

“You looked like you were already spooked,” he said. “I figured if I called out your name or tried to grab you or anything you’d freak out and wake up the whole trailer park. Last thing we need is a trailer park posse out here at 3 A.M. What had you spooked, anyway?”