OOC: It's slightly cliche and mediocre in my opinion, but I did take the time to write it.
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My boyfriend had just finished teaching me how to hunt. I was a natural with the shotgun he gave me. The trigger pressed tightly against my finger. I wanted to shoot, but not at the deer. They were just too adorable with their little pink tongues lapping up the local stream’s water. Needless to say, if I couldn’t get the job done- well, Noah didn’t hesitate. I remember peering over his shoulder and down the barrel. My chin rested comfortably on his large bicep. I watched his eyes, his pupil dilating; I felt his arm twitch as the trigger was pulled. I closed my eyes and hugged his arm firmly, my body being jolted by the sound of lead quickly puncturing the flesh and cracking deeply into the bones of the beautiful creature.
“See babe, that’s how you do it. It’s just an animal… food for us.”
Noah kissed my forehead softly as I swallowed. It was getting too dark to hunt, and I think my face was getting pale because he helped me off the dirt surface, where we had been hiding behind a log. Earlier today, Noah was teasing me for wearing a bright green shirt. He threw his army jacket over me and kissed me endearingly.
Now we were heading back towards his truck. Noah swiftly picked up the baby doe and grunted as his dirty arms tugged on the dead piece of meat. I walked quickly, wrapping myself in his army jacket that was keeping me warm.
I don’t think I’ve ever been as relieved as the day when I saw Noel come home from Iraq. It was the classic picture of reunited love. I guess it was very emotional when we finally did embrace because everybody was clapping. I was just overjoyed that he was home and safe- or so I thought.
I stole the keys from his pockets so I could get in the front of the F-150 and start up the heat. Shaking a little bit, I sunk into the cold leather seat. The engine started up easily. In the truck bed, Noah had managed to drag the bloody animal onto the blue tarp. That’s when I heard the news. The reports came from the radio, hectic with testimonies of those who had seen them. It had to be a joke. I wrapped up tighter in Noah’s army jacket and looked in the rear view mirror. He had jumped off of the back of the truck and was eying a silhouette that was getting bigger upon the horizon. The lights from the truck hit the road at just the right angle. A tall shadow of a man appeared, getting bigger slowly.
I remember being irritated by the simple fact that it would take us longer to get home if this person needed help. Scenarios invaded my thoughts. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, enjoying the hot air blowing softly upon my face, reddening my almost numb cheeks.
“The reports are popping up everywhere: Boston, Chicago, A little town in Texas, Portland. CORPSES COMING TO LIFE! Three more have been reported in the Northeast, folks! Nobody knows how to explain it, but the dead are coming back to life. No, folks- the issue is not people dying, but the fact that the corpses aren’t staying dead! One more reported sitting up on the autopsy table in a morgue in Milwaukee.”
The strange thing was that I really thought the news could be wrong. After all, the radio had caused mass chaos when H.G. Wells’ War of the Worlds was broadcasted on the air. People killed themselves thinking that aliens had taken over the world, but it was merely a short story. I guess it really was well written, but from this point on, humanity would begin to compose a different type of history. Out of irritation and anxiety I flipped the station, hoping for music.
“-ere were three of them! They just got up off of the autopsy table. I SAW THEM! I KNOW! I KNOW THAT ONE OD’D! This is an epidemic, people! STAY INSIDE! One of th- them was missing half of it’s abdomen. There was a hole in hi- I mean it- it’s stomach. The autopsy said cerebral trauma, death on impact. His entrails were missing. HE SHOULD NOT HAVE BEEN WALKING!”
Suddenly, it was just sobs. Now I was no longer shaking from the cold; something quickly gripped me as I looked in the rear view mirror. I clicked off the radio and panicked.
“NOAH! BABYCAKES! Get in the fucking car, now… please. PLEASE!”
I locked the passenger door and ran back to him with a rifle, just as the man approached. The stranger’s eyes looked empty and he was green in pigmentation. I was a few seconds late as Noah went to assist the guy. He didn’t know… he didn’t know. No matter how loud I could have screamed in that moment, Noel’s innate desire to help those in need was prodigious. Noah’s expression as the creature opened its carnivorous mouth and grabbed his arm was one of pure shock. Noah pulled his arm away and, in seeing that the creature no longer had a soul, smashed a hard elbow into the rotting meat that some would call a face. A chunk of flesh fell off, but the being was completely undaunted. It put its full weight against Noah, who struggled mildly to keep the stench of death off of his body. He turned his head at me, imploringly. I pulled up the barrel of the rifle and stared down the aim. Red eyes and half of a face gazed hungrily at me. Noel had always said I tasted like sugary cinnamon. CLICK! BOOM! ECHO! My pupils dilated from the other end of the barrel. A thin mist of blood still haunted the air as a splash of brain and head-matter made it’s way in a puddle on the floor. I dropped the rifle.
“Doll! Izzy!? It’s okay… you… you know… it is okay. You’ll be okay if you just forget about it. Look- I have army connections that can cover this up for us. This man, he was obviously sick anyways…”
I just stood there. I stood and stared. I turned and felt Noah’s arms around me as I puked. He held me for a moment and then something seemed to turn automatic.
“Noah… get in the car.”
He didn’t hesitate. After grabbing the rifle he jumped in the passenger’s seat and looked back at the mess on the gravel road. His eyes seemed to be asking a million questions.
“He was dead.”
All I had to do was click the radio on. I turned on the headlights and drove. For hours we continued to drive a twisted abandoned road. My parents hadn’t picked up their cell phone. I knew they were at church, though. My little brother would be with them… the only place to go was to Noah’s parents’ place.
At some point of the drive I noticed a couple standing in the middle of the road looking at their car. It was flipped and on fire. I slowed and eyed the wreckage. The Jaguar was on the verge of explosion and the couple didn’t look like they would move. Hesitantly, I slowed to a stop behind them and rolled down the window- about half way.
“Excuse me, Sir? Ma’am? D-do you need a ride?”
My voice sounded foreign to me as they turned and faced me. I eyed them quickly. They seemed alive enough. The woman spoke first, visibly shaken. She looked like some sort of drug addict, but I knew trauma could transfigure a face in moments.
“My son lay in that car and we pulled him out…” She paused and looked down at the ground.
“The thing is… we can’t find him… he just… disappeared while we tried to call the police. The line was busy.”
All I could do was offer them a ride. Noah threw me a look that was obviously influenced by his caution. He hated to let strangers in his truck. What we hadn’t realized was that he had already allowed one stranger to hitch a ride. The couple had been staring at the back of the truck for a few moments now.
“Excuse me, but can I ask what you have in that tarp back there?”
I glanced at Noah, wide-eyed. We hadn’t noticed the corpse of the son that had emerged from a ditch on the side of the road. I have always been very empathetic of those around me, but when I saw the expression of the flesh-yearning monster as it faced the truck, my foot had floored the pedal. Call it survival instinct, call it being scared shitless, but we were soon going 120 MPH and I didn’t plan on slowing down to look at our surroundings.
“Noah, shoot the deer.”
I looked at him, begging. The shadow of the creature appeared through the window on the back of the truck. The skull of the animal, it’s tongue hanging out grotesquely, was crashing repeatedly on the rear window as I tapped the brakes.
“Baby, don’t you know? I already shot it…”
Noah was staring out of the front of the truck with his chin in his palms, like everything was okay. My damn army boy did know how to pretend that everything was okay; he was trained that way. I didn’t know whether he was really joking, or in the purest form of denial. I placed his hand on the wheel and turned after grabbing the same rifle I had used before and aimed it through the back window, firing. Noah swerved and I heard a loud impact as both the gun was fired and the truck jerked. The animal continued to peer into the car, smashing its hooves against the truck bed and gnashing its teeth. Noah glanced at me blankly.
“The head, baby… it’s the fuckin’ head.”
Just then… I took time to realize that Noah was bleeding. His hand had a semicircular wound that was now dripping blood down his arm. He had been bitten.
“LOOK BABY, I tooooooold YOU! It is the head… the bloody, fuckin’ head. That’s where you want… what you need to do.”
I nodded and pulled the trigger as the bullet crashed through the glass, shattering it fully and blew off the entire neck of the creature, leaving a deer’s head in the middle of the road. A loud crash followed as the body fell in the back of the truck.
“That’s right, baby. I know… I know it’s the head.”
I kissed his forehead as a single tear rolled down my cheek. I focused and pressed the trigger as my eyes dilated. CLICK! BOOM! ECHO! Thank heavens my Noah had taught me how to use a gun.
-Sarah Irene Snyder
