by phuc
“Yeah, I can see that.”
Scott got out of the driver’s seat and he and Gordon began making their way to the guest house. Steve and David had already gotten the unconscious bum inside.
“Well, if we succeed in getting Tim, George, and Al kicked out of school, Matt and Chelsea will be next,” Gordon grinned. “By the time first semester is over next year, they’ll be out on their asses.”
Scott laughed as he and Gordon entered the guest house.
David and Steve had deposited the unconscious man on the floor in front of the zombie, who was chained up against the pipes that would have fed into the sink had they finished the guesthouse interior and actually installed a kitchen. The zombie looked at the homeless man curiously, as if he’d never seen a man knocked out cold before. David laughed. “Hey man! Check this out! Maybe our zombie will try to eat this guy!”
“Here zombie!” Steve called out in sing-song voice. “We brought you din-din!”
David pushed the homeless man closer to the zombie by shoving him with his foot. The man rolled over and moaned. His left arm flopped on the floor, landing inches away from the zombie.
The zombie made a guttural gasp of surprise and stepped back. His left eyeball was a gleaming pus-filled globe. Fluid dribbled down his cheek, pooling above his upper lip.
“Come on you sack of shit, eat!” David knelt closer and picked up the homeless man’s arm off the floor. He moved it under the zombie’s nose, waving it enticingly.
“Come on, have a bite! He’s nice and fresh!”
Scott couldn’t help but laugh. Gordon stood beside him, laughing too. It really was kind of funny. The goddamn zombie was behaving as if he were afraid.
“Are you sure that thing is dead?” Scott asked Gordon.
“Yeah, he’s dead,” Gordon answered. “Can’t you smell him?”
David turned to Scott. “No shit, man. You smell that?”
Scott hadn’t noticed the smell before but now he did. It was the faint smell of roadkill. “We’re going to have to do something about that soon,” he said.
“Air fresheners,” David said, taking a step back from the zombie and the new homeless guy. “We can get a bunch of them tomorrow.”
“So what you wanna do now?” Steve asked. He looked twitchy. Excited. Scott could tell he was amped up to spring some violence.
“Aren’t zombies supposed to eat people?” Scott asked.
“Count said they don’t always eat people,” Gordon said. “In that book he loaned me he said—”
“Count Gaines don’t know shit,” Scott said.
“He knew enough to help us make a zombie!”
Scott sighed. His energy was low tonight. He had no desire to tie this new guy up and wail on him. Least they could do was get him tied up and gagged, but he didn’t want the guy beaten this soon. He’d already gotten knocked out by Dave. Besides, he really wanted to see if it was true about zombies–did they really eat people? “I want to see if our new zombie will take a bite out of this guy,” he said. He nodded to Steve. “Lift that guy up a bit and move him closer. Maybe stick his arm up to the other one’s mouth or something, force-feed him.”
David laughed. “Hell yeah, man! Force-feed him! Pry his mouth open with this dirty fucker’s arm! Maybe that’ll trigger a feeding response!”
That idea seemed to spark interest in the boys’ minds and they gathered closer around Dave as he reached down and hoisted the bum up by his armpits. The man moaned, his eyes fluttering open briefly. He was thin, wearing ragged jeans and a button down shirt with dirty sneakers. He’d been carrying a dirty knapsack when they crossed paths off an alleyway in downtown Harrisburg and Gordon had made sure to snag it when they got the bum into the SUV. The first thing the guy had said when he saw them pull up was, “Hey, can you guys spare some change?”
It had also been the last thing he’d said before they swarmed over him.
Dave picked up the unconscious man’s arm and moved it up to the zombie’s face.
As he tugged on the man’s arm, he inadvertently pulled his body closer. The zombie stepped back, grunting in surprise. David forced the man’s arm to the zombie’s face.
“Come on, you dirty piece of shit! Eat! Take a bite!”
Gordon and Steve laughed. Scott cracked a grin. It was kinda funny watching the expression on the zombie’s face. It looked confused.
“This guy looks nice and tasty!” David crooned. “Come on, dude, you can do it.
Take a bite!” He shoved the man’s arm against the zombie’s lips, pushing and prodding until its mouth was forced open. The zombie made a bleating cry of protest and tried to step back again. It was clear to Scott that the zombie was afraid of something.
“Come on, its good for you!” Gordon prodded. “You’ll like it.”
“Are you sure you want to be that close to it?” Steve asked.
Dave was standing close enough to the zombie to force the man’s arm into its face, but had a good position in which to get out of the way should it lunge at him.
Besides, the zombie was chained up. He couldn’t really go far. Dave pushed the homeless man’s arm into the zombie’s lips, slowly prying his jaws open. The zombie made a high-pitched bleating noise; it was obviously trying to escape now. It looked terrified. With its back against the wall, chained up on a short leash to the metal posts, it gave Scott the impression that it was backed up against a corner. It was moving its head away from the proferred arm, its one remaining good eye rolling around in the socket, seeking an exit.
“The fuck,” Dave muttered, pushing the man’s arm farther into the zombie’s mouth. “Eat, goddamit!”
“Eeeeeeehhhhhh!” The zombie whined. It took another stumbling step backward and almost fell.
“Fucking piece of shit!” Dave punched the zombie with the homeless man’s arm.
The movement jerked the homeless man’s body forward, hitting his head against the zombie’s grubby sneaker. The homeless man’s eyelids fluttered.
“Whaaaa?” The man groaned. He was lying on the ground near the zombie’s feet.
Dave punched the zombie in the face. “Eat, you fucking sack of shit!”
The blow rocked the zombie back and this time he did fall. He landed on his hindquarters, legs splayed out in front of him. His foot accidentally kicked the homeless man in the torso and the man’s eyes snapped open. “Hey!”
“Uh, oh,” Gordon said.
The homeless guy was conscious now. He sprang to his feet, as if he’d been doused with a bucket of cold water. Dave reacted instinctively, hoisting the man up by the armpits and giving him a shove toward the zombie.
The homeless man landed in the zombie’s lap and he gave a strangled scream.
“Aaaaugghh!”
The zombie gave out its own strangled cry, this one carrying a tinge of fear as the homeless man fell on him. “Aaaaaiiiieeee!” It made no attempt to eat the homeless man.
It didn’t even try to grab him. The goddamn thing was afraid of him!
“Fuck!” Scott muttered. Things weren’t working the way they were supposed to and this was getting him angry.
The homeless man floundered for a moment on the zombie’s lap, trying to orient himself. Then he launched himself to his feet and made a stumbling leap away from the zombie. He ran right into Scott, who grabbed him and flung him to the floor, his anger and fury rising. “Goddamit!”
The homeless man cast his gaze up at the four boys crowding around him, his eyes showing confusion, a sense of pleading. “Don’t hurt me, man…please…”
“Shut up!” Scott yelled. He lashed out with one well-placed kick to the man’s stomach.
The homeless man doubled over in pain. That kick seemed to awaken Dave’s own urge for violence; he kicked the homeless man in the thigh and the small of his back. The homeless man screamed and tried to hobble away. The zombie made that keening whine again, cowering against the far wall of the room.
Scott was consumed with rage. It w
asn’t supposed to work this way! The zombie was supposed to eat this guy! “Gordon, what the fuck?”
“What?”
“You said the zombie was supposed to eat this guy?”
“I never said that, I only said that it might!”
“Bullshit!”
The homeless man made a scrambled attempt at escape during the exchange. He crawled between the arguing boys and began to make a mad dash toward the door.
Steve lunged for him, grabbed him by his T-shirt and hauled him back.
Scott and David joined in the fray and closed in on him.
Scott couldn’t help it. He felt himself unleashing all his pent-up fury on him. All his rage, hate, and anger. As his fists crashed into the homeless man’s face and chest he felt the anger leave his body slowly. All the frustration, all the hate, all geared toward people like him…it all began to dissipate the more he pounded on the bum. Steve held on to him as Scott and David pummeled the man. Gordon was the only one to not participate. He stood in the corner, watching them.
The homeless man kept trying to get away but he quickly succumbed to the crushing blows that were falling on him. He tried to deflect them by raising his arms, covering his head, cowering in on himself, but it was no use. In short order he was on the ground and David and Scott were kicking him over and over and over and–
“Okay, okay, that’s enough, stop!”
Scott didn’t know who was telling them to stop at first. It came as a distant call, as a disembodied voice from far away. What made him stop was his own fatigue. He was tired.
He stopped, trying to catch his breath. His arms hurt, his fists were numb. His entire body was still thrumming with adrenalin. He looked around; David stood across from him glaring down at the bum, his fists still clenched. Steve stood nearby, his chest heaving with exertion–had he joined in too? Gordon appeared to be the only one who hadn’t participated in the melee. He was standing behind Steve, an agitated look on his face. Behind them all, on the opposite side of the room, the zombie cowered against the corner, making those strange whining noises. “He’s had enough,” Gordon said. Scott put two and two together now; it was Gordon who’d yelled out to stop it. “He’s knocked out.”
“He’s more than knocked out,” Steve said, looking worried as he took a step closer to peer down at the homeless guy. He bent down, rolled the man over and gasped.
He looked up at the others. “He’s dead!”
“The fuck you mean, he’s dead?” Scott asked. He was getting pissed off again.
“He ain’t fucking breathing!”
“We didn’t beat on him that much,” Dave said.
“It doesn’t take much to kill somebody, either,” Steve said. “You already knocked him out in Harrisburg. Maybe that…you know…helped things…”
Scott took a step back. “You sure he’s dead?”
Dave knelt down and picked up the dead man’s arm. He pressed his fingers against his wrist. There was an uncomfortable moment of silence as Dave took the man’s pulse, then he looked at Scott. “He’s dead.” His expression was dead-pan. Expressionless.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Scott’s fury exploded and it had to be released. He went after the most likely target. He lunged toward the dead man and kicked him again, once, twice, a third time. Each time he kicked him he yelled, “shit,” spending his pent-up anger and aggression. Dave and Steve stepped back, giving him his space as Scott released his frustration and rage.
When it was finally over Scott staggered away, trying to catch his breath. He leaned against the wall, totally spent. The others stood silently, not looking at each other.
Only the zombie in the corner made any noise. Its whining was subsiding as it sat on the floor, looking at them with that same fearful expression.
“Now what the hell are we going to do?” Scott asked.
“Is it too late to bury him at Zuck’s Woods?” Dave shot a look at Gordon.
Scott looked at Gordon, too.
Gordon was still standing away from the other three boys, a strange look on his face. He looked down at the homeless guy. “You want to take him tonight?”
“Yeah,” Scott said, the idea taking root, settling in, making itself comfortable.
“We still got time, don’t we? What time is it?”
Steve glanced at his watch. “It’s only eleven-thirty.”
“We have just enough time to get there and do it!” Scott was getting excited. This would work!
Gordon was shaking his head. “I don’t know. I mean…the preparation…the stuff I have to do first—”
“You already did that before you brought the first bum back from the dead,” Scott said. “And we don’t have to bury him that far below ground. Just a few feet is all, and we’ll camp out there tonight and be there for when he digs himself out tomorrow morning.”
“Camp out?” Gordon was looking at Scott as if he’d lost his mind. Was Gordon getting chickenshit? It was hard to tell because Scott had never known Gordon to be a complete pussy.
“Yeah, camp out.” Scott clapped Steve on the back, motioning him to action.
“Come on, you can call your folks on your cell on the way over. We’ll just grab the shovels and get going.”
“We’re not going to need to perform that ritual again, are we?” Dave asked.
“We shouldn’t have to.” Scott glanced at Gordon for confirmation as Steve bent over the dead homeless man and dragged his feet to a more linear position. “Right, Gord?”
“No, I don’t think we have to,” Gordon said. He took a step forward, peering at the dead guy. He still had that look about him, and the closest Scott could come to describing it was worry. Gordon’s brow was creased, his face set in a frown. “But we gotta do it quick.”
“Let’s go,” Scott said.
They moved quickly, like a team that had performed this task numerous times.
Steve and Dave carried the body outside and deposited it in the back of the SUV while Scott collected the shovels from the utility shed. He grabbed a roll of duct tape and called Gordon over.
“Take these to the SUV,” he said, handing over the shovels.
“What are you gonna do with that duct tape?”
“Tape that fucking zombie’s mouth shut in case he makes those weird-ass noises while we’re gone.”
When Scott climbed into the SUV a minute later, the digital numerals on the dashboard clock read 11:37 pm. Scott pulled the vehicle out of the driveway and turned on the headlights as they exited the development.
“This better fucking work,” Scott said as they drove toward the outskirts of town.
“It worked last time, didn’t it?” Gordon said. He was seated beside Scott in the front seat of the SUV. Dave and Steve were in the back, staying silent. The tension in the vehicle was thick, heavy with anxiety. There was a lot riding on this tonight. In a way, Scott supposed it was a good thing the guy was dead. That was the eventual plan for him all along. It just wasn’t supposed to have happened so quickly. His unexpected demise had come as a surprise and, therefore, this hastily-arranged burial ritual had not been on the agenda tonight. Their alibis were compromised, for one thing. The other three boys’
parents knew they were spending the evening with Scott. That was about all they knew.
And should they get pulled over by a cop–
Best to not even think about that.
“What I mean,” Scott said, “is next time we try this, the sonofabitch that’s lying dead in the back of the SUV better not only be a zombie, it better eat the next homeless motherfucker we bring in.”
Steve turned around. “You serious? You want to like, feed homeless people to them?”
Scott shrugged. “Why not? Might be kinda fun to watch, don’t you think?” He glanced at Gordon and playfully punched his arm. Gordon chuckled ruefully, shaking his head. “Hey, come on Gord, think of how gross it would be. It’ll be like watching those zombie movies you’re always pestering me to see. You know, Night of
the Living Dead and all that shit.”
“But I told you that the zombies we’re calling up are different!” Gordon said.
“They’re zombies, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And in those movies, zombies eat people, right?”
“Yeah, but in the book Count Gaines loaned me, they—”
“Who the fuck cares about what books say?”
Gordon opened his mouth to say something, then shook his head. “Okay.
Whatever.”
“Whatever? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
Scott stared at Gordon, silently daring the other boy to keep it up. That strange feeling he’d had earlier about Gordon was still lingering. Was Gordon going pussy on them? He better not be. While Gordon had participated in way too many things with Scott and the rest of the crew that he could be in as much trouble as they should he squeal, Scott didn’t think he would stoop so low as to drop a dime on them. He might be the type to silently bow out, never to contact them again, and that was fine. So long as Gordon kept his mouth shut.
But if he even heard one whispered rumor that Gordon had talked about their recent activities with anybody else outside the group…if he so much as thought about it…
No. That wouldn’t happen. Gordon was in too deep. Gordon would never do anything like that.
Besides, making the zombies was Gordon’s idea.
“Tell me something, Gord,” Scott said. “Why’d you want to make zombies if you knew they weren’t going to eat people?”
Gordon shrugged. “I don’t know. I kinda thought they would eat people…you know, like in the movies. But according to Count Gaines, the zombies we conjured from that spell in the book aren’t those kind of zombies.”
Scott looked at Gordon, the idea settling in with him. “So this is all Count Gaines’
fault, then.”
Another shrug from Gordon. “I don’t know. I guess.”
They were silent as they drove through the country, heading up the winding road that would take them into the hills at the outskirts of town and, eventually, Zuck’s Woods. “Let’s just get there and do what we gotta do,” Scott said. “When he rises, we’ll bring him back to the house and then we can make plans to get another homeless person.