Rise of the Dead

by Emir Skalonja

  “I sure have,” Jill said, tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and let out a sigh. “What about you?” she inquired. “Whatcha gonna do with the dough?”

  Jack fell silent for a moment as he scratched his beard in long and deep strokes, then said, “I’m gonna get a nice, big box of cigars, I’m talking about imported straight from Cuba. None of this knock-off shit anymore. No, sir, from now on it’s the good stuff.”

  “You and your cigars, I tell ya.”

  “You and your wine.” Jack looked at her sideways and gave her a smirk.

  “Touché,” Jill said with a smile on her face. “To each their own.”

  They drove in silence for a few moments. The radio was off and there was only the distant hum of the motor running and the muted thumps each time the car hit a pothole. And this was quite often since the roads of Niagara Falls, New York, looked like they had gone through a very recent war and had never recovered.

  Jack grabbed Jill’s hand and their fingers locked. She turned and looked at him and even though he kept his eyes on the road, he could feel hers on him.

  “I love you,” he finally said, breaking the silence.

  She continued to smile and squeezed his hand tighter. “I love you too,” she said and leaned in to kiss him.

  “Things just took a turn for the better,” Jack remarked as he turned the car into a street that led them through a small underpass covered in graffiti. “No more struggling to make the ends meet, I tell ya. We’ve finally taken control of our lives and from here it’ll just get better, you just wait and see.”

  “We’re on this fuckin’ trip together, baby! You and me against the world.”

  “Got that right.”

  They made another left turn down a rundown, narrow street with a fence on the right side of it. The grass on the other side, unlike on the outside, was neatly mowed, green and lush.

  “Damn, talk about a night and day,” Jill expressed her surprise when she saw the difference between the dried-out shrubbery on the side of the road they were on and the nearly perfect lawn on the inside of the fenced area.

  “Yeah, no one cares about Love Canal anymore, unless it’s a government building, like that one there.”

  “That’s for the cleanup they conducted a few years ago, right?” Jill observed the enclosure, until it disappeared from her view when they made a turn.

  “More than a few, but yes, that was … whatever building. God knows what they used it for.”

  In the distance, Jack noticed a thin cloud of smoke rising above the area, just over what looked like a main building, but it came from behind it so he couldn’t really tell what it was. He didn’t think much of it.

  “Looks like there’s a fire there or something…” Jill mused, a hint of slight concern emerging in her voice.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it; probably burning some garbage or something,” Jack replied as he made one final turn and put the car in park.

  “That’s healthy,” Jill said sarcastically, rolling her eyes and then unbuckled her seatbelt.

  ***

  Bob expected to bury his sick wife that night as he thought she wouldn’t live to see the sun set. He had been preparing for it for the past few days as her physical appearance continued to deteriorate.

  He never expected her to pin him to the wall and try to bit his face off when he walked out of the bathroom. He wrestled her for a brief moment, trying to keep her at bay as she clawed at him with all her strength. And what strength that was, Bob marveled as he finally pushed her off, knocking her over the couch where she was resting not even half an hour ago.

  “Phil!” Bob yelled as his wife snarled at him. Her beautiful blue eyes were now gray, there was a trickle of blood coming from her nose and traveling over her lips and down to her chin, and she looked even paler now than earlier that day.

  She got back up to her feet and began to shamble toward Bob.

  “What’s gotten into you, love?” Bob asked, tears welling up in his eyes. He was reaching for his pocket knife. For a moment, he struggled to remember which pocket it was in and so he tried both until he felt the little lump on his right thigh. Quickly, he reached in and fished it out.

  Phyllis supported her thin body by holding onto the worn-out back of the couch as she walked behind it, her dead eyes fixed on him. She groaned and drooled and when she finally got within arm’s reach of Bob, he pushed her away and she hit the wall. She didn’t fall this time around, and the impact just made her angrier and it seemed that she was even more determined to eat Bob’s flesh.

  “I’m so sorry about this, love,” Bob said, his voice quivering. He held his tears back, not letting them roll down his red face. It was anger that was keeping them at bay as he had had just about enough of tragedy and life and death battles. He watched his wife – or what was left of her – come his way over and over again and try to sink her teeth into the fat of his arm and take a good chunk out of it.

  She held out her arms and attempted to grab him once more, but this time, he pushed them away, jammed the pocket knife into her side and pushed her against the wall. Blood gushed out when he retracted the blade from her ribs.

  It was a well-placed stab that would incapacitate a man of Bob’s stature, let alone a woman of barely eighty pounds. But to his surprise, she merely snarled and continued the fight. There was no way she had it in her to keep going, he thought as he stabbed her again, making another puncture wound just above the first one, letting more blood spill out over the already spattered floor.

  “What in the Good Lord’s name is going on?” Bob said to himself, his voice but a whisper as he searched for a solution that would put Phyllis out of her misery.

  He looked around the living room, but what he was looking for was a mystery even to himself. Not paying too good of attention where he was stepping, he stepped on one of his hunting magazines and slipped, losing his footing and giving his blood-thirsty wife a clear shot at another attack.

  She wasn’t fast by any means; it was though as if she moved on instinct, guided and ushered by hunger and pure rage. Her movements were deliberate, with a purpose.

  With his one leg bent at the knee, Bob felt a sharp pain in the side of it, an old injury finally awakened again. He was unable to move from the position he had slipped into, and watched his wife descend on him like a wild animal, her drooling mouth open, spewing saliva everywhere.

  She went for his throat, but he managed to keep her away by grabbing both her hands and holding onto her wrist as tight as he could.

  In shock, he discovered that she felt cold and clammy.

  The more he held her like that the more he was convinced she had no pulse. His mind raced trying to come up with plausible explanations, and if anything, it was the most inconvenient time. He looked around again. The pocket knife was there by his leg, but there was no way for him to grab it. Letting her go, even removing one hand from the grip, could mean his death. She would rip him to shreds.

  The knee twinging in pain, Bob mustered all the energy he could and shoved her with all his might. She stumbled backward and fell down on her back, hitting her head on the corner of the coffee table. She hit it so hard that Bob heard her skull crack.

  This time, she stayed down.

  He quickly got to his feet and went over to her still body. A pool of blood began to form around her head, and he knew the impact had done the job.

  ‘She is dead,’ he thought, but could not fathom how it all came down to this.

  Why did she attack him? How could she withstand two stab wounds to her midsection and still keep coming after him? It all felt like a bad dream, but when he touched her cold body once more, he knew this wasn’t the case.

  She was really gone.

  The tears now came rolling down his face; Bob was a stern man, a man’s man people would say, who loved hunting and his guns and very rarely showed his emotions. But he had a soft spot and that was his wife.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he had
cried. Must have been ages ago. But now, he let it go as he couldn’t keep it inside anymore.

  As he lay there next to her, he wrapped his arms around her and sobbed. Memories played out in his mind at that moment, good ones, just those he kept in the back for rainy days. He knew the day would come he would have to bury her and he was going to do it in the back yard, so he could always keep an eye on her. But he never even dreamed that she would die by his hand and in such a brutal and despicable manner.

  Through his sobs, Bob noticed that something was going on outside. He heard some gunshots come from the direction of that facility with monthly truck visits.

  The tears stopped.

  He lifted his head and looked toward the window where he had stood earlier and had watched the truck pass by the house. A strange feeling gnawed at him at that moment as he wiped the snot from his lips and chin; he couldn’t help but think that whatever was going on in that building was somehow related to Phyllis. Maybe not directly, but what if whatever tests they were doing there (and it had to be on the people that were at one point exposed to those damned chemicals) was what was wrong with his wife.

  Many people had suffered severe side effects from the toxic waste buried beneath the area before they had ended up dying.

  To Bob at least, it all made sense now.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Jill looked around as Jack popped the trunk and revealed their victim, all contorted inside, barely fitting in. The man’s knees were at his chest, almost touching his chin, and his arms tightly wrapped around.

  Jill had aimed at his head her first shot, but it had just ended up grazing his skin and there was a trickle of blood there to prove it. It had only been a flesh wound and the guy nearly got a jump on her, but she had fired again, this time at his stomach. She had put two bullets in him and he had been down for good.

  “Alright, let’s do this,” Jack said and grabbed the man’s arms.

  Jill approached the car and awkwardly went for the man’s ankles. Touching the dead body sent shivers down her spine. It felt creepy, maybe even eerie as her imagination ran amuck and made her wonder if he would spring back to life. Just the touch of his corpse was enough to freak her out. She was a superstitious person, there was no doubt about it, with her tarot cards and books on the dead, and being so close to a corpse played countless tricks on her mind.

  “Ew,” she said in disgust. “Here goes nothing.”

  “Oh, it will be fine, just grab him and lift, just to get him out and we can then drag him.”

  “I know, but it still feels weird.”

  They lifted and brought the dead man over the bumper, then let him roll over and hit the asphalt. The corpse made a hard (and almost meaty) thud.

  “Damn,” Jack said as he felt his biceps. “I’ve been really trying to work on my upper body strength, but now I see that I’ve got to hit that damn gym.”

  “But I like your body,” Jill said seductively and ran her hands down his arms, lifting herself up on her toes and giving him a peck on his bearded cheek.

  “You sure?”

  “Of course.” She smirked, still wearing that sexy look that got him going every single time.

  He returned the smile and said, “Well if you say so.”

  “That outfit looks good on you too. Simple, but it says, ‘I kick ass, so don’t mess with me.’” Jill was referring to his black tight jeans, a washed out black t-shirt and his large forearm bracelets that looked like casts. It was a very Goth look, maybe crossed over with Steampunk. It was odd, she agreed, but he pulled it off with no effort. And he wore the Converse she bought him last Christmas and to her, that rounded out the entire bad boy outfit.

  “Thanks,” Jack said and inspected his forearms, flexing them a little, feeling the tightness of the shirt’s material up to his elbows. He thought it looked … cool, if that was the right word to use. There was a bit of uncertainty about it at first, but he got used to it pretty quickly.

  “Yeah, we’re like vigilantes or something now. I’d say our outfits look good. Well, they fit the part, I guess.” Jill slammed the trunk shut and kicked the man’s foot as she walked to the other side of the car.

  “Vigilantes, huh?” Jack mused and bent down to grab the arms.

  “I’d say so, since this guy was a scumbag and the world won’t miss him, so it’s like we’re taking out the trash, you know.”

  “I see,” Jack said and began dragging the corpse. “I never thought of it that way.”

  “There you go, something new for you to mull over.”

  Jill attempted to grab the ankles but each time Jack pulled the corpse to drag it, it slipped from her hands. And it wasn’t like she had the greatest strength either, so after a few steps she just gave up all together, then reached into her pocket and pulled out a cigarette. It was starting to get crumpled for being in there for so long. She used her fingers to smooth it out a little, then she lit it and took a drag.

  After about a hundred yards of dragging the body down a desolate street, Jack looked up to his girlfriend and gave her the eye. She knew what that meant but she still played dumb.

  “What?” she asked.

  “What do you mean by ‘what’? Are you gonna help or not?”

  “It looks like you are doing just fine, babe,” Jill said as Jack shook his head, clearly annoyed by her response. “I’d just slow you down, to be honest.”

  “Great excuse, hon, really good.”

  He kept pulling the corpse and Jill continued to smoke her deformed cigarette.

  The street they were on used to be just another normal street with parallel rows of houses, but now, all that was left were driveways, if you could even call them that. Some of them were covered in weeds, others in graffiti, while some even had big craters, at least an arm’s length from years of deterioration. They passed a pile of oriental-looking rugs, two of them were rolled up and folded and were sitting on top of another one that was spread out and showed its weathered surface. A few feet past that pile there was a metal chair that was missing its seat.

  “Looks like a bomb went off here,” Jill said as she observed the surreal scene. “It looks like a few bombs went off here. I take it this is what the world will look like if another world war happens; if there’s like a nuclear holocaust or something. This really looks eerie.”

  “It’s a charming little place, I tell ya,” Jack said and puffed as he hauled the body. It was a good site to dispose of a body. He’d heard of the place years and years ago, and never really thought much of it. He never even came around this area as a kid, even if he lived about an hour’s drive from Love Canal. He had not the slightest of clues as to how and why this place had popped into his mind when he had thought of where to dispose a body. He had been most likely high, he thought, and that, somehow, brought up a suppressed memory he had from so long ago.

  They walked a little further until Jack stopped and looked around for a decent place to dump that sorry son of a bitch that made him sweat like a pig.

  The driveway to his right looked inviting, with a big tree at the end where a house once stood. He saw a shaft of some sort right under that same tree.

  “Perfect,” he said out loud, even though he thought he had said it only to himself.

  He did that sometimes; on occasion, he would talk to himself. Thinking out loud was what he called it, and sometimes it would come out without him even noticing. Jill found it bothersome because she would think he was talking to her when really he was just showing symptoms of being a crazy person.

  “Think you found a spot?” Jill asked and followed his gaze.

  “Sure did,” he replied; he grabbed the arms again and slid the corpse over shards of broken glass.

  “We can finally dump him,” Jill said excitedly and almost skipped alongside her boyfriend.

  Jack brought the body to the opening in the ground and peered into it briefly. “This should do the job. Just drop him in there and put some dirt on him. That’s about it.”

&
nbsp; “Alright, then,” Jill said as she finished her cigarette. She had smoked it almost all the way down to the filter. She took one last drag and flicked the butt into the bushes.

  “You know, you’ll start a fire like that,” Jack said, then grabbed the man’s wrists. His pale skin was starting to sag, like poultry meat, and it was definitely issuing a nauseating odor.

  “Oh c’mon, man, don’t preach. You’re like the litter king.”

  “Littering is different than starting the whole place on fire.”

  “Yeah, like there’s a lot left to burn.” Jill waved her arms side to side trying to convey the magnitude of desolation around them.

  “Just sayin’,” Jack said and inhaled deeply, then pulled the body and it slid down into the shaft all on its own.

  “Bingo!” he exclaimed and clapped his hands once. “Damn, I’m good.”

  “Good job, hon. He’s finally out of our hands.”

  “Yeah, that’s that, huh—”

  “Sure is,” Jill said and took the gun from the small of her back and handed it to Jack. “Listen, I’m gonna go pee, then we can head out, alright?”

  “Sure,” Jack said and took the weapon from her. “Just don’t go too far.”

  Jill smiled and nodded in understanding. “I won’t, I promise.”

  She walked a little further and disappeared into the bushes.

  Jack followed her with his eyes until she was out of sight, then turned his attention to the corpse in the shaft. He stared at the man for a while. At one point, he even pointed the gun at him, and mouthed the words ‘BANG’ as he pretended to squeeze the trigger.

  He was a creepy son of bitch, Jack thought and began to pace while waiting for Jill to come out of the bushes. The man dressed almost like a hobo: his pants were shredded in places, his shirt reeked of piss and of something else Jack couldn’t really grasp what it actually was. His hair was thin and gray, and tied into a sad pony tail in the back.

  “You doing alright there?” Jack yelled without turning around.

  Jill yelled back. “Wanna come wipe me?”