by Thom Erb
The white light cut through the intersection of Elmwood Avenue and continued down Mt. Hope Avenue. Simultaneously, Warren and Dex’s attention subconsciously went to a two story building as they drove past. A large, yellow and blue Empire Comics sign hung on the wooden, planked wall. Its bottom edge was cracked and soaked with rain and blood. Against the wall next to it sat the body of slack, chubby male. A lone bullet hole ruined his forehead. His glasses lay askew on his nose and his fixed stare glared at them as they passed. His receding reddish-brown hair was caked with crusted blood and dried pus. His flannel blue, black, and yellow shirt hung splayed open over his pot belly. Another bullet entry wound opened his chest, ruining the Claremont is God! T-shirt that covered his rotund form. His legs were spread out before him. An obvious zombie that met his fate at the end of some survivor’s gun. Dex and Warren both shot looks at each other. They knew who this poor soul was. They didn’t speak a word, just let out a sad, heavy sigh.
A bright flash of light filled their vision as a bolt of lightning struck one of the mighty oak trees that lined the old street. A loud crack filled the air and the smell of burnt wood and hot ozone filled the cab of the truck. A limb the size of a telephone pole crashed to the street directly in front of the speeding Chevy. Brakes seized as Warren stomped on the pedal. The rear end of the truck lurched forward, sending all its contents crashing forward into the back window.
The truck swerved to the left and struck a burned out black Ford Mustang, hurling it into the stark wrought-iron fence of Mt. Hope Cemetery. The charred remains of two bodies were ejected out the passenger side. The bodies puffed into dust and ash as they struck the iron fence. The truck slammed into and crushed the small car between them.
A brutal round of rolling thunder, synchronized mockingly with the collision. The truck came to a sudden stop and large clouds of steam came billowing out from under the hood through the smashed grill. The metal supports for the plow snapped and the chains disintegrated. Shards of splintered glass filled the cab and rained down on all in the bed of the now embedded truck.
The rain came down harder and the lightning and thunder increased their intensity. Warren felt his head throb and his chest began to weigh heavy. His breathing became painful and labored. He peeled himself from the steering wheel, and it felt as if two layers of skin went with it. His lungs burned, and he tried but couldn't force a full breath. A sick, low groan came out when he tried to speak. He turned his head to see Elton gone, leaving only a shattered windshield. Maico lay slumped on the floor at Warren's feet. He shook his head and a little blood dripped from his wet nose.
“Son of a bitch!” Dex moaned and leaned back. The hiss of the radiator and thunder overtook everything else in and around the truck.
“Elton is gone. Anyone see him? Is everyone okay?” Warren shouted, forcing the door open, and it wrenched, responding with an echoing groan. He slid out and a wave of nausea and dizziness overtook him. Grabbing the railing on the bed of the truck, Warren pulled himself upright, rubbing his throbbing head and looked into the back of the truck.
Capt. Al lay prone with his ass over his shoulders and his wheelchair now lodged into the back window. He let out a groan of pain and ironic laughter.
“Motherhucker, what the hell happened, man?” He grunted and forced his legs back down onto the bed of the truck. Warren watched the trained vet check himself over to make sure there was no permanent damage, and then let out a throaty chuckle, satisfied.
Arnie held onto the rack of lights that were bolted securely on top of the cab of the truck. His jeans were shredded where glass had ripped them from his thin legs. He hugged the chrome bars with all his might and refused to let go. He kept reciting the Lord’s Prayer over and over again. This forced Warren to smile as he grabbed tightly onto the side of the truck. Dex crawled out of the bed and came around the passenger side, cussing the entire way. Maico hopped down and yelped as his front paw hit the sidewalk.
The storm refused to let up and lightning strikes illuminated the accident scene, providing much needed light. Even in the harsh weather and moonlight, they began to laugh. All the weight of the world was upon their shoulders and yet they found humor in their unfortunate accident. That was until...
“Where is Dr. Who?” Capt. Al asked. His bearded face was soaked with rain and blood. It was nothing new for the wily old vet, but he still grew anxious at the disappearance of the Brit.
“Looks like he took a header through the damn windshield. God damn it!” Warren shouted. His rage echoed tauntingly off the cemetery hills and gravestones.
“No time for belly aching. Let’s find his scrawny ass, right quick. I’m guessing he ain’t doing so hot and with all the dead shits coming our way, we ain’t got much time.” Capt. Al ordered.
They all searched the close vicinity and came up empty. They only thing they found was rain, mud and more mud.
109.
White Light, White Heat
Mount Hope Avenue, Rochester, New York
The rain poured down, filling the trench dug by the impact of Elton Habersham’s body and began to fill it up. He coughed and spit out the dirty water and gasped for air. His thin arms flailed and found an anchor on the soft grass and dirt. Above him sat a humongous tombstone that read:
“If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it’s because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however, measured or far away,”- Henry David Thoreau. Into the massive granite stone the family name of O’ Brien was chiseled deep into the stone as cold rain washed down through the well-worn grooves and down into the dead grass.
Elton cherished his ability to breathe and his mind was clear. For that, he was grateful. The only pain he felt was that of his left leg. It felt like it had been impaled with a branding iron and caused him cry out. He was scared to look, but knew he had to. Taking a deep breath, Elton peered down slowly. The once precious breath he was so grateful for was lost as he saw pure white bone piercing through his calf. His fibula protruded from the skin, and he reeled in pain. The white and red of the blood contrasted brightly in the moonlight and caused him to inhale and focus so as not to pass out from the sight and pain that riddled his small frame.
We have much bigger demons to fry, he forced himself to admit, and he tried to crawl forward toward the fence he could see through the sporadic flashes of shock white lightning. His fingers found dead grass and mud, and he pulled himself toward the truck. He could see the white steam from the crushed radiator flowing into the cold night air and used it as reference. He tried to speak, but found his voice gone. His breath was vacant, stolen. Elton continued to dig into the soaked earth and pulled himself forward. Blood filled the trenches he left behind.
110.
Cemetery Gates
Mount Hope Avenue,
Mt. Hope Cemetery
Rochester, New York
Warren staggered forward to the front of the truck and found the plow and grill a deformed mess of twisted metal, plastic and rolling steam. The only things to be found were bits and pieces of the Mustang and crushed steel from the truck. He punched the crumpled fender in disgust and frustration. Even though they’d made it, Mt. Hope was a vast maze of acres and acres of graves and mausoleums. He knew this would ruin any chance they had at saving Sam. The rain disguised the tears flowing down his face. He heard Dex and the others plotting their next move amidst groans of pain. He knew it was a waste of time. They were close. He knew that by the proximity of the comic shop he used to beg his mom to bring him to.
Mt. Hope Cemetery had always been a tourist spot when they made their way to the city. Many famous people lay buried here: Fredrick Douglas, Susan B. Anthony, Raymond Chandler, John Jacob Bausch and Henry Lomb. And while he wasn’t buried there, Rod Serling had died in the Flower City. It never failed. Warren’s mother used to work at the University of Rochester and would always talk about the majesty and rich history of the grand old cemetery. Now he knew why. She was alway
s right. He felt a cold tear well from his eye. She had always said in one way or another, everything in the world was connected to Rochester New York. He allowed himself a small smile and spit blood and phlegm onto the saturated ground. She was right. She was always right, he thought. That last thought made him laugh out loud. It was then he saw a bright spark of white light that separated itself from the golden moonlight and thrust forward through the cold fence. Beyond, he heard the murmers of pain and grunting. “He’s over here!” Warren shouted. He managed to thrust his big frame through the bent iron of the old fence. Maico jumped through the fence and limped toward Elton. Rain still poured down and lightning and thunder filled the valleys of the old cemetery. Dex and Arnie tossed Al’s wheelchair over the fence and went back to grab Al.
“Fancy meeting you here, lad. I’m so glad you found me,” Elton sputtered. Blood was plentiful from his thin lips. The stubborn Brit paid no heed and kept talking. They all gathered around him. The rain pelted them and created deep mud puddles under their feet.
“We need to follow that lit path.” He extended out a quivering hand that pointed the way. The large sheer white light path grew stronger, now originating from Elton’s chest.
“Lady Samantha needs us my friends, and they’re throwing everything at us to stop us. And, do not forget, we mustn't allow anything to happen to Master Warren here, either. We cannot let them succeed!” Elton felt a river of tears flee his eyes as the pain in his leg burned like a million suns as he crawled forward, following the glowing ivory light that still shone before them all and made his way through the rain and lightning.
“Ain't no chance of that happening.” Dex said, checking his weapon.
“Hell no!” Arnie added.
Warren felt his face flush and wasn't sure how to feel about the whole Child thing, but he pushed it aside and ran to the busted iron fence, scrounging up two pieces of iron and making a splint for Elton’s leg. He tied them together with pieces of Elton’s’ jacket Dex shredded as he was searching. Elton smiled through the pain as Maico showered him with tongue lashes on his cheek.
“Thank you, Lord Maico,” Elton mumbled, then jumped as Warren finished up his first aid.
* * *
They were together once again and headed along the path of the white light. It all seemed crazy to Dex, but he followed what Warren and the rest thought would work. His view of the world was far more cynical, more realistic and pragmatic. But Warren was his best friend, his brother, and he would follow him to the ends of the earth. If the past two months had been any indication, they just might be right there.
The rain slugged on, and they made their way along the heavenly provided path that seemed to perfectly follow along with the small paved road of the cemetery. Lightning and thunder barraged them as they made their way. The scent of death and decay filled the air. They all knew the undead were close by but had no choice but to push on.
In front of them a large hill loomed. The darkness did its best to hide it, but there was no denying it was there. Lighting flashed, creating harsh, evil shadows in the old graveyard, as they slowly made their way along the Great Creator’s given path. Each step was painful. They all suffered injury and pain, but they forced themselves onward and wouldn’t stop.
Beyond them stood the largest hill in the centuries-old cemetery and they all knew what lay beyond was what they sought. Through the rain and pain, they fought onward. Elton kept uttering the words that kept them moving through the darkness.
“Remember, we need to keep Warren safe and get Lady Samantha back, alive. We cannot let the vile servants of Orcus have them,” Elton’s chorus filled their ears and their souls as they crested the hill and descended down into the valley where they could see what awaited them. It wasn’t the chilly wet rain that made them shudder. It was something far worse.
Warren knew as they all did. They had no time to prepare a great military strategy. They had to act and act fast.
111.
All Hells Breaking Loose
Mount Hope Avenue,
Mt. Hope Cemetery
Rochester, New York
Before them lay a large open courtyard. Dead grass and weeds filled the once well-manicured lawn. In the center lay a three tier ornately carved Gothic water fountain. Beyond the fountain lay fifty or so yards of more muddy lawn. Off to the left sat a darkened church with a large metal door. At the edge of the dead foliage grew a semi-circle of mature pine trees. They completed the circle made by the large hill that lay behind the dead trees. Through the rain and series of harsh lightning flashes, they could make out the white of tombstones, and behind them, a large hillside mausoleum. From where they stood, Warren and the others could see several black figures surrounding the tree line and in a row behind the dead pines, whose limbs looked like long, dark, scrawny skeleton arms reaching out for them in the darkness.
“That’s fucked up,” Capt. Al muttered as he looked down and surveyed the enemy lines. He ran a calloused hand through his thick, soaked beard and shook his head.
“What is?” Arnie whispered into Al’s ear.
“There aren’t any servants of Orcus down there,” Elton answered the question and stepped forth, wincing in pain. “And there isn’t any use in whispering, young lad. They know we are here. They can sense the living, and the white light also gives us away, I’m afraid.” He stepped in front of the group and turned to face them.
Elton grabbed his leg and felt fresh blood still leaking from it. He tried to push it out of his mind so he could focus to finish this business and end this evil.
Dex checked his rifle and touched his wounded head gingerly. He looked over at Elton and the rest, still keeping his eye on the rainy valley below.
“Alright, gentlemen, we haven’t much time. We need to have a plan,” Elton looked them each in the eyes as the storm raged on above them and rain soaked them to the bone. They no longer felt the dampness as it no longer mattered.
“It’s real simple, man. We just go down there and fill the dead bastards full of bullets.” Dex stepped closer to the group and almost lost his balance on the wet and slick hillside. His impatient tone indicated his openness to further options.
“Well, that is part of the plan young, Dexter. But I think we may need more than that. Those vile creatures down here are not the zombies you are used to fighting. They don’t move slowly, they don’t want your flesh or your brains. They’re conjured creatures from the beyond and serve a greater Master. They can fight and fight well,” Elton said and forced himself to find more secure footing.
“How do we fight something that isn’t alive, much less not from this world then?” Warren asked. His face was flushed, and he twitched. He wanted to just bull rush down the hill and shoot every dead thing down there and rescue Sam. He was surprised fear wasn’t the victor over him this day. He usually talked a good game, but when it came down to it, he would shit gold bricks and turn tail and run. Not now. He felt freezing rivers of sweat gushing from every pore in his body and his heart beat like a speeding locomotive, but there was something about the girl he’d only known for mere hours down there that pushed all that old fear aside, and his courage found new strength and now urged him to action.
“I may have some energy left that will be able to hold some of the abominations off. I don’t know how many of them, or for how long, so you all will have to move quickly to free Miss Samantha.” Elton turned to each of them again and made sure they understood what he said and what had to happen.
“I don’t see her down there, guys,” Warren said. He tried hard to fight back the tears. “That light thingy points down to the graves, but I can’t see anything.” He wiped the rain from his glasses. It did little good.
“Warren. They’re trying to teleport out of here. Trying to get back to their Master. Those figures you see are there to stop us, or at least to slow us down until the spell can be cast. This brings me to the other important point I wanted to make. If you see any of those hell spawn flailing thei
r arms about without a weapon in it, shoot them. They’re trying to cast a spell, and if you can interrupt them, that will flummox their spell.” Elton’s voice grew louder.
“Not a problem.” Dex spat, taking aim at one of the dark figures along the dotted tree line.
* * *
Capt. Al surveyed the valley below them, rubbing his bearded chin and shaking his head. A dead run down the steep hill was suicide. He had Arnie help him with the flamethrower, and he took a deep breath. The chorus of guns being loaded and clips being fed filled their ears. This wasn’t the first time Capt. Alvin Hymen Weitzman dropped down into a hot LZ.
“On my six, bro?” Capt. Al asked and opened the ignition valve on the handle of the long flamethrower, then pressing the button that activated the spark plug. A loud hiss was emitted and a five-foot flame licked at the black, rain-filled sky.
Arnie gripped his shoulder tight, offered him a crooked smile. “Time to raise some hell, man. I got ya,”
“Very well, I’ll prepare the spell, and then you can go on my—” Elton was cut off by a blur off motion from the center of his friends. The rain-soaked handles of Capt. Al’s wheelchair grew too slick for Arnie to retain his grip, and he let the chair loose. The chair and Capt. Al went sliding quickly down the soaked hillside. Al didn’t seem to mind as he whooped and hollered as he went.
“Oh shit!” Arnie shouted and rushed down the hill after the speeding chair. Warren tried to grab him, but missed and slid down onto his ass, catching himself from following down after them both.
“Get castin’ that spell, man. We’ve gotta go now!” Dex screamed and ran down the hill. Warren shot Dex a look, and then turned to Elton.
“Go lad, go! She needs you,” Elton ordered and closed his eye. His thin hands began to glow white. Maico charged down the slick hill as fast as his wounded leg would allow and barked savagely.