by Ledger,John
Jeremy turned to see panic consume the rest of the people. Some held on to their lanterns, but others dropped them. One by one, they winked out as they fell and broke, leaving less light each time. The once silent lake bed was filled with screams coming from all directions as the people scattered into the dark.
A pale beam cut through the night as Landon clicked on his service flashlight and lit up as much of the area as he could. As deep into the darkness as they could see, an army of animated corpses had surrounded them and were closing in. Their arms were outstretched and their mouths open as they ran towards the group. Where green swaths of algae didn’t cover their rotting flesh, they were black with decay and dripping water and ooze. The ones in front of the onslaught tripped, and the others ran over them, pushing their decaying bodies down into the mud.
Panicking, most of the people ran blindly into the crowd and were quickly consumed by mobs of corpses that converged on them and began biting and pulling them apart. Jeremy was frozen in his tracks at the spectacle.
The sheriff’s voice cut above the screams. “Mother of God!” He reached around to his left hip and drew his taser. Assuming a ready stance, he pointed it at the oncoming mob.
Jeremy knew what was about to happen before the sheriff discharged the barbs, but by the time he yelled “stop,” it was too late. Landon fired and hit his intended target like a true marksman. The zombie closest to him was lit up with blue tendrils of electricity that ran up and down its body and then arced off to those standing next to it. Like lightening, electricity surged through the oncoming group and rippled back through the massive oncoming army like a wave. There were many more of them than anybody had ever anticipated. The current lit up in blue fingers as far back as they could see.
Gunfire started to ring out across the lake as the zombies converged on the Chief Ranger and he lost sight of his friends, and the precious lanterns that they had brought with them. He pulled his other pistol and started firing into the dark with both outstretched arms.
The night erupted into gunfire and screams. Jeremy felt both of his guns run out of ammunition within seconds of each other. Muzzle flashes from gunfire sparked all around him and he caught brief glimpses of a horde of zombies coming closer to him every second. A hand landed on his right shoulder and pulled on his shirt, almost yanking him off balance. There was nothing left to do but run. He connected the butt of his empty pistol with something softer than living flesh and moved.
With his elbows and empty pistols swinging, Jeremy blindly ran through the crowd. There was a sickening squish every time he connected with a corpse, but he knew he had to get away. It didn’t matter where, just away from here.
His right foot caught on a body lying on the lake bed and he stumbled, but quickly regained his balance. Bodies, both animated and not, covered the ground and he had to quickly adjust his step to avoid tripping. Hands grabbed at his arms and ankles, but he was able to shake them off as quickly as they came.
The feeling of bodies under his feet soon gave way to soft, muddy lake bed and the hands grabbing at him subsided. In the distance, he could see flickers of light from lanterns laying on the ground and being carried by a few survivors. People, both living and dead, were still scrambling in the chaos. Gunshots rang out, but much less frequently than they had. There was only one about every ten seconds now and he could hear the rapport echo across the lakebed. His chest was heavy and he was breathing in gasps now, middle age had taken its toll on his stamina.
More hands grabbed at him in the darkness. There would be no time to rest. He pulled loose and swung his pistols blindly though the night until they connected with his attacker. He felt the impact and heard it fall into the soft mud. He had no idea where he was, but he would have to keep moving.
The Ranger jogged for at least half-a- mile, trying to get his energy back. He paused just long enough to replace the magazine in his two pistols and stumbled on through the dark. He must have been getting closer to the center of the lake because he could feel himself walking through small pools of shallow water and there were old sticks and limbs under his feet. He managed to keep from tripping on a few tree trunks, but the terrain was getting harder and harder to navigate.
His eyes were adjusting to the pitch black of night, but he could still see very little in front of him. The stars shone in a brilliant canopy covering the night sky, but provided little in terms of illumination. Jeremy could make out cardinal directions from them, but without a frame of reference, direction did him no good at the moment. He didn’t know where in the lake bed he was. Lake Bowie was the largest reservoir in Texas and was two miles wide in some places. Could these things be leaving the lakebed with the water gone? Would anywhere be safe anymore? He didn’t know. Pop had never given him all the answers and he cursed himself for not paying more attention.
An unseen hand reached out from somewhere in the dark and grabbed Jeremy’s right ankle. He fired blindly in the direction of his attacker, but missed. In the muzzle flash, he could make out the impression of a man completely naked and non-existent from the trunk down. It was pulling itself along the lakebed with one arm and pulling on the ranger’s ankle with its other. Its mouth was agape, ready to take a bite of his tender flesh.
Jeremy stumbled backwards, pulling the zombie along with him. It caught against something or it grabbed onto something with its free arm, Jeremy couldn’t see, but it suddenly gained traction and the Ranger fell into the mud. The force was enough to jar his ankle from the zombie’s grasp and he dropped the pistol from his left hand. His body landed in a layer of thick mud that was ice cold despite the hot summer night. He placed his hands on the ground and pushed his face and body up out of the mud with a large schlurping sound. The mud flowed between his fingers and sucked the energy from his body. Even the lake itself wanted him dead.
He rolled over onto his back to see a group of rotted people silhouetted against the night sky standing over him and reaching down. More were approaching from the periphery. He fired blindly at the shadows until his gun ran out ammunition. With each flash from his pistol, the mass of faces grew closer and closer. Bits of flesh fell away from their masticating jaws and insects of all types crawled and flew across their decaying skin. Those that had eyes left in their sockets stared blankly at nothing. It was not life or even hunger that drove this, it was pure evil.
Jeremy rolled onto his stomach and scrambled through the mud as fast as he could. His low vantage point gave him a little bit of assistance as he could see their heads moving against the sky line. When he was sure he was clear, he crawled for a while and then stood. His body was shaking with cold and his hands were numb. Alone, blinded by the night and lost in the dark, he felt actual fear begin to rise up inside of him. That, combined with the stench of rotting flesh and a lakebed that hadn't been exposed to air in fifty years, set the bile rising in his stomach. He took a deep breath and commanded himself not to vomit. He didn’t know how the zombies would find him in the dark, but it was one less weakness he could afford.
The gunfire had completely stopped and there were no more lights in the distance, flickering or otherwise. His one remaining pistol was empty; he threw it out into the darkness. Of the two rifles that he had had strapped to his back, only one was left. It was an old deer rifle handed down to him from his other grandfather, not a good weapon for something like this, but it was all he had. Standing still was not an option. It was time to not panic anymore and do what he had come here to do. He had made an oath, he was an Oathkeeper.
Careful not to slip in the mud, he rose to his feet. No sooner than he gained his balance; he felt the icy fingers of the undead begin to grab at him. Panic filled his heart once again and his breathing quickened. He pulled away and swung his elbows and the butt of his rifle blindly in the dark. All around him, he connected with rotting flesh. Wet and rotted tissue squished and old, brittle bones crunched with each impact. They were coming faster now. He could hear more of them gathering around. Jeremy took in a d
eep breath. He was going to have to run, run fast, and hope that there was nothing to stop him.
Blindly, he screamed and ran as fast as he could, still sweeping his elbows and rifle as he went. He only made it about twenty feet before tripping over something in the lakebed and sliding through the mud. He felt his body slide against the feet of a person, living or dead he couldn’t tell, and knock them over into the mud. He didn’t stay long enough to find out what it was. He was on his feet again and running blind through the dark.
Hands touched him and pulled as he went, but never with enough force to hold him back or knock him down. He couldn’t tell where he was going, but it didn’t matter. The lake had to end somewhere. All he had to do was make it to the edge.
Crunch!
It felt like a tree, but he wasn’t sure what he had run into. He was sent sprawling to the left and into a puddle once again. The mud was almost as demanding as dead fingers as it sucked him into itself. Close by, wet footsteps slathered through the lakebed. So many, there were so many and he couldn’t get away!
Jeremy, exhausted and out of breath, somehow found the energy to stand back up, however slowly. First one knee and the other, leaning on his rifle for support. Running wasn’t an option. The old ones were going to take him, he knew it. They were so close he could smell their rot. The bolt on his old rifle was difficult to activate because it was wet, but he managed to chamber a round and got ready to shoot at whatever touched him next.
“Come get me! Come get me, you bastards! I’m waiting for you!
I
KEEP
MY
OATH!”
A light shone at him from somewhere off to his left and he heard a voice echo across the lakebed. “Jeremy?”
“Sherriff?” It sounded like him.
He turned in the direction of the light, shielding his eyes from the brightness cutting through the pitch black. “Is that you?”
“Jeremy! Over here!”
He could see shadows in between them of the walking dead converging on the sheriff just before he clicked his light off. They were attracted to the brightness! He made his way in that direction, however at a slightly less hurried pace. Every time he felt cold hands, he was able to push them out of the way. “I’m coming!”
The flashlight flashed, he had gone off track just a little to the left. He corrected and made his way towards where Landon was. Just before he reached their position, his eyes were filled with an image highlighted by muzzle flash. It was the sheriff holding a zombie by the collar with one outstretched hand and the shower of flesh as he shot it in the head at point blank range. The rapport made his ears ring, so he didn’t hear the thing hit the ground.
He did hear Scott close by. “Jeremy? You’re alive!”
“Scott!” He couldn’t see him in the dark, but he could hear that he was close by.
“How many are with you?” The icy voice of a well trained soldier bled through in a barking meter.
“None. I thought everyone else was dead.”
“They very well may be.” It was Mike Landon talking now in his deep baritone. “I thought we were the only two.”
Jeremy was starting to worry. He had gotten away from some of the undead, but it would be just seconds before they converged on them again. Where had they gone? He began to wonder why he hadn’t felt one in the last couple of seconds.
Scott was the next voice. “Jeremy, how are you with ammo?”
“Two, maybe four shots left in my thirty-thirty. That’s all.”
“I’ve got about three slugs left for my twelve gauge, and I managed to grab a machete.”
Mike Landon’s unmistakable voice carried in the night. “I’m out, that was my last. All I have left is a machete, too.”
Jeremy stepped closer to the other two. “You still have a light, Mike?”
“Yea, but they’re attracted to it.”
“We’ll have to use it in bursts then. We have to get out of here.”
“Out of here?” Scott replied, “I don’t even know where the hell we are!”
Almost as if on cue, a dim light appeared to Jeremy’s right. It grew brighter and brighter with a solid edge on one side as if it were a bright light shining from behind a wall. Before the source revealed itself, it started singing. The voice carried throughout the lakebed like a trumpet.
“Amazing grace…”
“What the…”
“How sweet the sound….”
It was a man’s voice, and growing louder.
“That saved a wretch like me….”
From behind some unseen barrier, Father Stammond emerged holding his still lit lantern high in the air with an old stick.
“I once was lost….”
His light lit up the area around them. They were standing in the middle of a ghost town. Old shops and houses in varying stages of decay, most reduced to piles of rubble and rot, stood all around them. Algae and black slime covered most of the buildings, making them unrecognizable.
“But now I’m found….”
“Gentlemen,” Jeremy spoke out in spite of himself. “We are in the center of Nebo Valley.”
Father Stammond walked closer to them and they could now see his face in the light of the lantern. His bright eyes were unmistakable, but the rest of him was covered in mud. Even his once white hair was black with it, every part of him, except the side of his head where part of his skull had been opened up and an ooze of blood and grey matter ran out over onto his shoulder.
“Twas blind…”
Behind him, the men could now see an army of the undead, following the light. Immediately behind the priest were the crawlers. Bodies in pieces. Trunks with missing limbs or bottom halves. One was just a head, a shoulder and an arm. They slithered through the mud like serpents, pulling themselves with whatever body part remained.
“But now….”
Behind them were the walkers. Their bodies were still together enough to support their weight, but the rot was evident. Bone showed through pieces of torn and half eaten flesh and old clothing hung from their decaying forms like Spanish moss. Algae had covered most of them, leaving them black and slick.
“I see….”
Stammond stopped in front of the only three men that remained alive and looked at them. He handed his machete to Jeremy. “You need to run.”
With that, he took his lantern down from its perch and threw it against the ground. The bit of oil that remained spewed out across the lake bed that used to be the main street in Nebo Valley and made a fire that spread out in a wide arc.
Then, the unexpected happened.
Under the site where the lantern had been thrown down, a pocket of methane under the ground caught fire and erupted with a loud explosion. A single thump filed the men’s chests and threatened to knock them over. A plume of fire higher than most of the old buildings in Nebo Valley rose up into the night.
It roared like a giant beast and spewed a bright yellow flame that lit up the entire town. A collective yell erupted from the masses of the undead and they gathered around the fire. More came out of whatever structures remained standing and from the outside of town also. They were drawn to the light like moths. A few of them took notice of the survivors and started to advance on them.
“Oh shit! Oh shit!” Jeremy yelled and took a step back, only to deliver himself into the arms of Guy Sterling, who he had watched die just an hour before. Guy wrapped his arms around Jeremy, but he managed to pull away just before being bitten. He came around with his machete the father had given him and quickly dispatched his old friend.
Scott’s twelve-gauge discharged a few times and Jeremy pulled his own rifle into position. He fired and cocked until his gun was empty. They were still coming.
Throughout the town, more pockets of methane caught from underground tunnels and explosions thumped through the night as new plumes of fire shot into the sky. Years and years of decay had built gas pockets all along the lakebed and they were now oozing to the surface
without the heavy water to keep them pressurized. The town grew brighter and brighter, but it only served to show Jeremy how many zombies had arrived. They tripped over the slitherers and ran through the town towards them.
The Ranger firmed his grip on his blade and started to swing. Their tissue was soft and easy to cleave, but there were so many and they were closing in. He couldn’t keep up.
There was an old building close by, he could bottle neck them in there if nothing else. He ran into the old, dilapidated house and fought his way to a back room. It was clear and he could hold the door as they came. He pushed it closed and leaned back against it.
His arms were exhausted and his grip on the machete was weakening. They started pushing against the door and he knew he couldn’t hold them back very long. The old, rotted door frame was starting to come apart every time they pushed on it. There was a broken window on one side of the room and he could see buildings across the old road catching fire. There, between where he was and a burning building, was a mass of zombies, all covered in fire. The flames licked at their decaying bodies, making them light up the night as they went. The smell of burning hair and flesh filled his nose, threatening to make him vomit again.
Jeremy watched in horror as they converged on Sheriff Landon. He fought them off as best he could, but there were too many. They surrounded him and made a single ball of flame as they came together. Mike screamed. The Ranger didn’t know if he was being burned alive or eaten, but the Sheriff was gone. More eruptions sounded further in the distance.