A rustling in the bushes, closer to the ground and to Roy’s left, grabs his ear. Both Dawson and myself seize up as Roy turns swiftly around. He trains his gun in the general direction, but nothing is there.
I tap Dawson’s leg once more and take a step back. At this point, I’d rather take my chances on a rickety bridge.
“Who’s there?” Roy demands. “Don’t much think you want to mess with the widow maker here. She’ll tear you in two in a heartbeat.”
Slowly and quietly, we continue to back down the bridge. I’m trying to not look to either side and keep my focus dead ahead, but it’s hard. I catch glimpses of nothing but open space. My heart thumps faster in my chest and short bursts of air escape my trembling lips. The view rattles me, but I keep it together.
“It’s probably some damn varmint,” Roy mutters, spitting at the bushes. “Hey, and just where the hell do you think you’re going?”
We stop as Roy follows us out onto the bridge. He’s not as careful as we are. His heavy feet and plump stature test the aged ropes. The bridge sways, jostling us from side to side. Both hands grip the thick rope tighter. Duke stays in front of us, his body poised to strike.
“Looking a little green under the gills there, boy,” Roy chuckles. “Not a big fan of heights, huh?”
I give no reply. The terror on my face says it all. I grip the ropes so hard that it feels as though the blood is rushing from my hands, turning my knuckles a white, milky color. My lips tremble with fear. I try to shake it, but can’t. Being caught between certain doom has my fight or flight instinct working overtime.
“Well, at least I’m not about to die, dick head,” I snap through trembling lips.
“Oh really,” Roy replies, training the barrel of his gun directly at my head. “Seems as though I have made up my mind.” Smiling devilishly, he readies to fire.
The chaser explodes out of the thicket behind Roy. His gun discharges in our direction as the creature sinks its teeth into his left shoulder. I drop to the wooden slats, covering my head, but keep an eye on Roy.
He screams a curdling cry of pain as he struggles to rid himself of the creature on his back. Blood spews from the wound, racing down the front of his dirty flannel shirt.
“Uh, James,” Dawson mutters from behind me.
I glance over my shoulder to find Dawson on his knees, both hands covered in blood as he cradles his stomach.
“Oh, Christ!” I scramble to get up and check on him. “Oh man, oh man, oh man.”
The bridge sways violently. I grasp the rope and Dawson, trying to keep him from slipping over the edge.
Tears flowing down his grungy cheeks. I’m lost as to what to do. I don’t want Dawson to die.
“Dude, let me see.” His hands shake as I move them out of the way, trying to get a better look at the wound. There’s so much blood, and with everything going on behind me, I can’t really gauge how bad it is. “We need to get you off this bridge, now.”
Getting to my feet, I grab Dawson by the arm and try to help him up. Another gunshot rings out.
The bridge shifts to one side. I drop down on top of Dawson, covering him up and keeping him from slipping off the side. I glance over my shoulder. Roy has blasted the left side post.
The rope holding the bridge steady tears through the shredded wood like a hot knife through butter. I brace my feet in a small opening on the slats as I try to figure out what to do next.
“Hold on bro, just please hold on,” I whimper in a quivering mumble.
I want to yell for help, but my cries and pleas would only fall on deaf ears. The chaser has overtaken Roy. He’s just a few feet from us now and is feasting on Roy’s dead body. I can’t say that it’s not bittersweet for him.
In all of the commotion, I must’ve lost track of Duke. Franticly looking down below us, I fear the worst.
Bark! Bark!
I look to the opposite side of the bridge and find him pacing back and forth, barking his head off.
Thank God!
The chaser continues to rip and tear through Roy’s dead corpse, pulling chunks of flesh and his insides out. I’m not sure how much longer it will be occupied with him, as his body is partially hanging off the side of the bridge. His right leg is intertwined with the rope and his foot has somehow slipped through one of the slats.
“All right, man, we need to get moving now.” My voice is overtaken with uncertainty and dread.
I get off Dawson and stand up. He’s losing color in his face fast and is appearing weaker by the second. I struggle to pick him up, but the bridge bounces all over with the slightest move we make. I try to keep my eyes focused on him and the solid ground, and not the massive gorge below us.
“Come on, bro. I need you to try, man,” I plead.
Dawson hacks and spits up a nasty blood clot, the life fading from his eyes right before me. I’m doing everything I can to try and save him, but I’m not sure it’s enough.
Roy’s mangled and ravaged body finally slips from the snare his leg was caught in. Confused, the chaser slurps down the juicy meat clutched between its teeth as it looks for him.
“Christ, dude. We have to go now!” I grab Dawson by the scruff of his shirt and try to pull him off the bridge. I struggle to do so as Dawson is not a small person, and the bridge is now at an angle. He helps some, but not much. Glancing back over my shoulder, the chaser’s attention focuses in our direction. Its eyes narrow in on us.
“Dude, I need you to try and get up.” Tears flow freely down my cheeks in my helpless predicament. “I can’t do this by myself.”
Dawson’s body finally goes completely limp. He’s semi-conscious, eyes glazed over as he lifts his hand in the air.
He mutters. “Get… off this… bridge and to… your family.”
“I’m not leaving you, man, so come on.” I strain to lift him up again. I can hear the chaser coming closer and closer. Its heavy breathing and moaning creeps along the bridge toward us.
“James… go.” As much as it pains me, I give in and grasp Dawson’s hand. He’s lost so much blood, and I can’t get him off the bridge in his current fatal state. He digs in his pocket and hands me his compass. “So you can… find your… way. Promise me… you’ll make it.”
“I promise,” I somberly reply. Tears pour from my swollen red eyes.
Standing back up, I carefully step over Dawson. I grab the rope in front of me and shimmy along the narrow slats of wood around him. I try not to give the chaser a second look. I keep my eyes focused on Duke who is still barking and growling.
The wind picks up, throwing the bridge back and forth with a violent shake. I pause for a minute as my eyes catch the open air beneath us. By now, I’m partly straddling Dawson. His breathing has become shallower with every second that goes by.
Come on, James, you got to move.
I go to take another step. Something grabs my ankle, causing me to lose my balance. With both hands clutching the rope for dear life, I spin around. The chaser lays across Dawson while holding my leg. Panicked, I kick and thrash, hoping to free its grasp on me.
It moves its bloody hands up my leg, trying to get a better position. I continue to kick, but with the way I’m dangling here, I have no leverage to break free.
“Get off me!” I yell.
My panic-stricken tone sends Duke into a barking frenzy.
Dawson is motionless now. His eyes are closed, and I’m not sure if there’s any life left in him. I try to kick the chaser with my other leg, but can’t.
Looking at me with its soulless hollow eyes, I fear that I’m going to die on this God forsaken bridge. If it really wants me that bad, then it’s going to have to work for it.
I continue to fight with everything inside of me, cursing the chaser and flailing around wildly. Dawson’s body jolts under us. He grabs the chaser and breaks its hold on my legs.
“Go,” Dawson grimaces in pain. Blood streams out of his mouth as the chaser turns its hungry gaze to him.
I
pull my legs in and move back some. The boards creak and pop under what I can only guess is stress from all the commotion and decades of decay. The rope slipping through my hand feels tattered and worn, hurting the palm of my hand.
The chaser takes advantage of Dawson’s weakened and near-death state, and digs into his right shoulder.
Dawson cringes and writhes in pain. He gives me one last look, eyes glassy from all the tears, before he mutters his final words.
“Rock on, brother.” Clutching the chaser close to him, Dawson leans forward and slips through the ropes. The chaser pays no attention to the fact that they’re falling, continuing to feast on Dawson’s body.
“No!” I yell as they plummet to the watery grave below.
I dare not watch the impact, feeling as though the guilt of not being able to save him might be too much for me to withstand.
Goodbye, brother. You will be missed.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Duke’s been stuck to my side like glue since leaving the bridge. He hasn’t run ahead or wandered off in search of whatever he wants to explore.
I think he can tell how my current mood is. He licks my hand frequently, and rubs against my legs in that loving manner he has. I knead his head and try to break a smile, but can’t.
I’ve lost track of time, wandering around what feels like in circles for hours. I’m hungry, starving in fact, but I don’t care. My stomach is just going to have to deal with it.
I have to rest.
Tired, I stop, and plop down on a log that is nearly swallowed by the tall grass trying to take it over. It’s uncomfortable, but my butt and legs don’t whine. Duke sits at my feet, still staring at me with a sad look. Ears folded back, he lays his head and front paws on my boots.
My head hangs low from the crushing weight of Dawson’s death. I gently glide my fingers over his fur before breaking into tears. Hands cradling my face, the loss spills out of me.
Sobbing and weeping for all that has been lost due to this plague of death, I bellow out for friends and family. I feel as though I’m cursed, and that anyone around me is doomed to fall victim to those horrid things. My dad, Tony, and now Dawson.
Maybe I should just stay away from Mom and Cindy. Not even bother with going to the cabin. Since death feels it necessary to walk in my blind spot, I’d be doing them a favor. No reason to subject anyone else to my curse, or at least, anyone that doesn’t deserve its wrath.
Wiping the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand, I pick up a rock next to me, and throw it as hard as I can into the trees in front of me. It knocks and clocks off the bark, striking a few rocks before falling silent.
“Good throw, for a girl I mean,” a voice says near me.
“What the hell!” I yell. Startled by the familiar voice, I quickly scoot down the log. “Dawson?”
“Yeah, dude. Surprised to see me, huh?”
He’s sitting there, smiling at me, and acting as though nothing has happened. The gunshot wound to his stomach still looks fresh and raw. The bites from the chaser ooze blood and other fluids from his shoulder. It all seems so surreal that I can’t tell if I’m dreaming or not.
Hesitant, I ask, “You’re alive?”
Dawson scoffs. “Heck no. You did see me take a nosedive off that bridge with that thing latched to me like a face hugger, right? It kind of made me feel like Sigourney Weaver from that movie Aliens, bro.” Dawson snickers while acting that part of the movie out. “Besides, dude, this is your hallucination, not mine.”
“So, you’re not real, and I’m tripping right now?”
“Tripping pretty damn hard, my friend,” Dawson chuckles as he springs up from the log.
“You’re not giving up, are you, son?” my dad asks from behind. His presence sends me scrambling to the weeds.
“Pop?”
He peers at me with that sad look that he used to have when I let him down. I try not to look beyond his unscathed face to his ravaged and broken body.
“I know things are tough right now, and the road ahead feels impossible, but you must keep going,” he says with that firm but caring tone of his.
“I’m not sure I can,” I somberly reply. “What if Mom and Cindy are dead, or worse even, turned into one of those things? I don’t think I have it in me to do what is needed.”
Feeling myself on the brink of another breakdown, I peer over to Duke who’s looking at me with a bewildered gaze. I know he’s probably thinking that I’ve lost my mind, and to be honest, I think I have.
Dad smiles at me. His eyes are full of hope. “But what if they aren’t, James. Your mom and sister will need you to make it through this. I know you’re scared, but you’re stronger than you realize, son.”
“Weak!” another familiar voice chimes in to my left. “You might as well give up, boy, and just let those things tear you apart, or better yet, become one of them because you ain’t got the stomach or nerve to finish this out.”
Glancing over, I find Roy standing near the log with a cigar clutched between his teeth. His upper torso has been ripped open in multiple spots, allowing the smoke to escape from the wounds. But that doesn’t seem to keep him from smiling and being a dick in the afterlife.
“Face it, boy, your family and best friend are all gone, and you weren’t strong enough to do a damn thing about it. You couldn’t stop it. Again, weak.” He chuckles, the flab on his arms and stomach jiggling.
“SHUT UP!” I yell, feeling my blood boil. “I am strong enough to save them.”
“Then prove it, ’cause all I’m seeing and hearing is a little boy who’s not man enough to handle what needs handling.”
Tired of Roy running his mouth, I bolt to my feet and charge at him. I take a swing, but get nothing but air. I fall flat on my face. He laughs. The smell of his cigar fills my nose as I spit out grass and dirt.
“Like I said, boy, weak and pathetic. Do them a favor and just give up.”
“STOP SAYING THAT!” I roar in contempt. I scramble to my feet again with a fire raging inside of me. “You’ll see that I am-”
There’s no one there except for Duke and myself. I franticly look around, trying to find Roy, my dad, or Dawson, but come up empty.
My feelings of sorrow and guilt have changed into pure rage and determination to save my family. They will be alive when I get there, and nothing’s going to stop me now.
In my imaginative fit, what little gear I had left jostled free from my pack and has been tossed all over. Feeling more focused, I quickly gather up the miscellaneous supplies and take a deep breath.
I don’t have my Remington anymore. Lost it while on the bridge. The only weapon I have left is my knife, which is tucked neatly inside its sheath on my left leg.
“You ready to get to Mom and Cindy, boy?”
Bark! Bark! Duke gets to his feet and stands at the ready. If I didn’t know him any better, I’d think he was waiting for me to get over myself and back to reality.
I nudge his head with my knuckles and rub the side of his face. He licks my hand and takes a stab at my face, which I gladly take.
“Let’s go home, boy.”
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Day is turning into night. The sun dips down over the mountains as the valley’s light lessens. I’ve got my flashlight out, but the beam isn’t as intense and bright as it should be. I think the batteries might be going out on me.
Duke and I have been running in what seems like a dead heat for the better part of the evening. We’ve only stopped at streams to rest and to get a drink.
He’s panting hard. His tongue dangles loosely from his mouth as he laps up the water from the chilled stream. I check the compass.
It looks like we’re heading in the right direction, but I’m not 100% sure. It’s been a while since we’ve been to the cabin. The scenery looks familiar, but it has for the last couple of days. Trees, bushes, and thick blades of grass are everywhere.
I cup my hands and dip them into the water. I scoop up the chilled water
and get a drink. Something stirs to our right. I pause.
Lowering my hands, the water spills from my hands and splashes the ground. I can’t completely make it out and don’t want to take the time to try either.
“Duke, come here, boy,” I whisper to him, trying to keep his attention focused on me and off whatever is rustling about.
He happily comes to me, and licks my hands as I hold him near. With my fingers laced around his collar, I get moving.
Snap! Damn it. I stepped on some twigs. I pause for a moment and glance back over my shoulder, but don’t find anything in pursuit.
I let loose of Duke’s collar. Something explodes out of the bushes. A chaser. It knocks me down hard, sending me sliding into the stream. I dip under the water for a few seconds before my head pops back up. It’s freaking cold. My body shivers as I lift up out of the chilled water.
Baring teeth, Duke charges the chaser. He grabs it by the leg and pulls, twisting his head from side to side as blood flows free from its leg. He digs in deep, chunks of flesh being torn free as it falls to its knees.
“Duke, get away from it, boy!” I yell.
In a jerky and creepy tilt of its head, it glances back at Duke.
“No! Let it go, boy,” I yell, fighting to get out of the stream.
He doesn’t listen, continuing to attack the chaser viciously. Dad taught him, as a pup, that he is to protect his family at all cost.
“Hey, I’m right here, you dead freak!” I yell, trying to get the chaser’s attention. It reaches for Duke, but stops and puts its focus back onto me. “Yeah, that’s it, come and get it!”
Bear crawling toward me, his soulless eyes peering deep into mine, he comes for his meal. Duke’s still holding strong, his growls muffled by the mouthful of chaser flesh.
I wade in the water, waiting for the chaser to get closer.
Almost there.
He reaches out and grabs my shoulder. He pulls himself in with his lipless mouth opening wide for his first bite.
“No meal here today,” I explode out of the water with my knife clutched tightly in my right hand.
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