With that, the girls headed off towards the rest rooms. Stephen and Nick followed behind them, with Dave remaining at the car.
Nick handed Stephen the keys as they entered the bathroom and said, “You’ve got the final leg.”
The first thing they noticed when they entered the men’s room was the smell. Rest area bathrooms are not known for their pleasant aroma, but this was awful. They looked at each other without saying a word; the scrunching of their noses was all that needed to be said. They made a beeline to the urinal to get their business over with as soon as possible and get back out to the fresh air. The bathroom was rectangular with six urinals on either side towards the front, and a long mirror along the left wall with six stalls lining the right side in the back. Beneath the mirror were a row of sinks.
They were heading to the sinks to wash their hands when they were stopped dead in their tracks by the oddest noise. The noise, a scraping sound like nails on a chalkboard but worse, seemed to be coming from the last stall. Stephen looked and noticed, for the first time, legs sticking out from beneath the stall door. He slapped Nick on the arm and pointed in that direction.
Nick looked at the stall and turned to Stephen, “What the f …” he whispered.
Stephen shrugged his shoulders. Both of them started moving in the direction of the occupied stall. The smell intensified. Stephen then realized that he was wrong, there were not a pair of legs sticking out from underneath the stall; there were two pairs. As they moved closer, Stephen decided that the noise was more of a sharp sucking sound … almost like someone … feeding.
Stephen did not notice the aluminum beer can on the floor and accidentally kicked it as they passed the second stall. The noise from the can vibrated loudly off the walls of the restroom. The odd sucking sound stopped. Silence gripped the restroom. Stephen and Nick froze where they were, about ten feet from the two pairs of legs sticking out from underneath the stall door.
Suddenly one of the pair began to move, slowly at first, then with more urgency. Whoever was moving in the stall was now standing. The stall door began to move as if it was going to open. Stephen grabbed Nick, who was rigid as a statue, and began leading him backwards toward the exit door. The stall door began to shake violently. Whoever was inside was desperately trying to get out but had locked themselves in and could not figure out that all you needed to do was slide the bolt to the right.
Snapping out of the state of fear that had gripped them, they turned and sprinted towards the exit. Escaping into the fresh air, they ran to the car as fast as they could. Emma and Lucy were just up ahead of them almost to the car.
They caught up with them and Stephen screamed, “Get in the car, NOW!”
Dave was waiting for them with a puzzled look, “What’s going on?” he asked.
Stephen ignored him and ran around the front of the car while digging for the car keys in his pocket.
Nick came up behind Dave and said, “If you’ve got to take a piss, drop your pants and do it here … you don’t want to go into that bathroom and you’re not going in my car.”
Dave was going to protest but he saw the look in Nick’s eyes and he really had to go, so he did as instructed. The girls had already climbed in the car. Emma had left the door open for Dave to get in when he was finished. Stephen had finally fished the keys out of his pants and got the car started without ever taking his eyes off the men’s room door. Dave finished his business and hopped in the back seat. Stephen had the car in reverse before Dave could close the door. Quickly turning around he put the car in drive and sped out of the parking lot back onto the highway with his eyes glued to the rear view mirror.
They rode in silence for nearly fifteen minutes until Dave finally spoke up. “What the hell happened in there?”
Stephen looked at Nick. It was Nick who finally said, “There was somebody in the last stall.”
Dave countered with, “And that’s unusual for a bathroom, how?”
“I’m not sure what was going on in that stall but there were two people in the one stall and I think only one of them was alive,” added Stephen.
“Are you sure? Should we call the police?” asked Lucy.
The next several minutes were spent discussing whether or not they should contact the authorities. In the end they did not want to prolong their trip as they were so close to the park.
Stephen put an end to the matter saying, “To be honest, I’m not sure what we saw … or heard … or smelled for that matter.”
“Smelled?” asked Emma
“Yea, it smelled like …” Stephen started to say.
“Death,” Nick finished.
The next several hours were spent in relative silence as Dave, Emma, and Lucy drifted off to sleep in the backseat.
“It was easier for them”, thought Stephen, “they didn’t see what I saw.”
He and Nick exchanged glances from time to time but no words were exchanged. It was hard to be sure what happened in the restroom but it seemed to Stephen that it was unlikely an innocent explanation. Neither of them was going to relax for a while.
They reached Interstate 66 around three in the morning and then the Beltway about an hour later. As they neared the exit for Andrews Air Force base, they slowed down as it appeared the road was closed. They came up to a sign that read “ROAD CLOSED> USE ALTERNATE ROUTE.” As they slowly backed up, a pair of military helicopters flew overhead likely en route to the Air Force base. They turned off at Exit 7 and followed the signs for Six Flags.
The neighborhoods they were now driving through seemed eerily deserted, even for nearly four in the morning. No early risers, no garbage trucks, nobody making the doughnuts. They finally arrived outside the Six Flags America main entrance. A large parking lot lay out before them with the huge park rides, the Skycoaster and the Batwing, off in the distance. They sat there for a few moments as the early sun began to creep over the horizon. It was almost five a.m.
Stephen sat behind the wheel of Nick’s Hyundai Phoenix having completed a trip of nearly 2700 miles. Everything at first seemed normal. The park was closed as it should be. But as the sun came up and began to shed light on the property, Stephen noticed cars in the parking lot. The park did not officially open until 10:30 a.m. There was likely a night crew to clean up the park at night, as well as some security to ensure no one snuck in after-hours, but there were at least seventy-five cars in the lot; maybe even a hundred.
Most peculiar was the fact that they were fairly scattered within the lot; not like employees who would park in a designated area.
The passengers in the backseat began to stir. Stephen pulled forward and headed into the parking lot. Slowly making his way toward the park entrance, he began to notice that some of the cars had their doors open. In the distance, off to his left, he noticed some movement. It appeared to be a small group of people walking slowly toward one of the cars. They were moving awkwardly and with staggered steps. Stephen turned the car and headed toward the group.
They had nearly reached the car when Stephen thought he saw movement coming from within the Chevrolet they were targeting. All of a sudden, the back passenger’s side door opened and a young woman burst out and began running toward their car. She was clearly panicked and was shouting something. Stephen swung the car around and rolled down the window so he could hear what she was saying.
“Help me!” She screamed.
Stephen was about to yell back and ask what the problem was, when someone emerged from behind one the other cars between Stephen and the young woman. The stranger startled her causing her to stop suddenly and lose her footing. Stephen made the decision to try to pull the car alongside and see if they could get her in. Unfortunately, he was not fast enough, the man who had been hiding behind the car was on her and the group that had surrounded her car was approaching fast.
She let out another cry for help but it would be to no avail. The group had descended on her and began to tear at her clothing. One of them got down low and appeared to bite
her on the back of the neck while the rest held her down. Stephen, Dave, Nick, Lucy, and Emma stared in horror as the woman went limp. One of the attackers then seemed to realize that the Hyundai was there and turned to look at them. He began to rise, as the rest of the pack began to do the same. Stephen locked eyes with one of them as the group started to move toward their car. At that moment Stephen realized two things; first, these things that attacked that poor woman were not human, and second, he needed to get the hell out of there.
Chapter 4
Chester Boone
The sounds of the birds and the rustle of the leaves as a gentle breeze blew through the woods did little to improve Chester Boone’s mood. He was already agitated that he had failed to bring down the doe with his bow earlier in the day. Now he was forced to track the blood trail through the woods for the last hour, instead of relaxing back at his campsite.
“I can’t believe I lost the trail again,” he thought as he knelt looking for any sign of the wounded deer passing this way. His ability to track anyone or anything in these woods was stuff of local legend but that was not helping him now. He was about to stand when he noticed the glint of wet blood on a leaf to his right. Moving to the leaf, he could just make out the fresh blood trail continuing into the thick brush to the south, away from his campsite.
“Of course it can’t be heading back towards camp,” he muttered to himself.
With an annoyed sigh, he adjusted the pack on his back and slung his bow over his shoulder. As Chester eyed the brush he realized there would be no easy way to do this if he wanted to follow the trail directly. Wounded animals rarely made finding them easy. With a grunt, he pulled out his machete and began to hack a path through the thick foliage.
Chester Boone was a native North Carolinian, having been born and raised in a small town outside of Charlotte. Growing up, his family would visit the Great Smokey Mountains at least twice a year for camping, hiking, and hunting. To that end, Chester developed a fondness for all things outdoors. Even when he was attending college at the Virginia Military Institute he lived for the weekends when he could escape into the woods to camp and hunt. Upon graduation, he decided not to accept a commission into any of the branches of the US Military, but instead pursued a career as a Park Ranger.
Chester married a girl from his home town three years after graduating from VMI. Shortly after their fourth anniversary, however, his wife was tragically killed in a car accident. Since then, he has adopted an almost a hermit like lifestyle moving to a small house in the town of Waynesville, west of Asheville. He then obtained a job working for the United States Park Service in The Great Smokey Mountain National Park. Whether he was working or not, Chester spent most of his time alone in the woods.
At 47 years of age, he was of average build and height but had strength developed from years of hiking, hunting, and outdoor activity that belied his frame. Completing his stereotypical outdoor look was a head of curly dark brown hair and full beard that were just starting to show the signs of greying. His tanned leathery skin showed the results of years of outdoor living. When he actually had something to say, his gruff voice completed the image.
Movement in the brush ahead froze Chester in mid-swing. Peering through the dense vegetation he tried to see what had made the noise. The sound of breaking branches drew his attention to what appeared to a man slowly moving through the underbrush in roughly the same direction as the blood trail.
“Where did he come from?” thought Chester “I haven’t seen anyone in five days.”
Lowering his machete, Chester began picking his way through the undergrowth as quietly as possible. He did not know who this intruder was but Chester certainly did not like being surprised by other people, especially not in his woods. The man did not seem to notice that he was being followed even when Chester unintentionally stepped on and broke several twigs. The man continued to shamble forward following the trail of the deer.
“If that deer is still alive he is goin’ to scare it off,” thought Chester as the stranger continued to crash clumsily through the brush.
Suddenly, the mystery man stopped and began looking around as if he was lost. Chester could see him more clearly now. His hair was matted and his clothes were filthy and torn in some places. The man’s arms hung limply at his sides and he stood awkwardly favoring his right leg. Just as suddenly the man began to move forward again. Chester moved a few feet forward and in the distance, slightly ahead of the stranger, he could make out the deer lying in a heap with the end of his arrow protruding from its neck. The man seemed to spot the deer as well, and moved slowly to it, sinking to his knees directly in front of the deer. Chester could make out the man reaching for the animal but could not tell what he was doing. It appeared as if the man had been tracking the deer all along.
”What is this fella doin’. That’s my deer and if he even thinks he can take it for himself he’s got another thing comin’,” thought Chester angrily.
Not making an attempt to be quiet anymore, Chester moved through the brush and approached the man from behind.
“Hey, buddy. What do ya think you’re doin’?”
With no response Chester tried again, “Hey, I’m talkin’ to you! That’s my deer. I don’t know where you get off trackin’ and stealin’ other people’s deer but that ain’t happenin’ today.”
This time the man let out a grunt. As Chester drew close he could make out sounds as if the man was eating.
“Hey buddy, what’s wrong with you? Can’t you hear me?” asked Chester moving forward and poking the man in the back with his boot.
In an instant the man turned around still on his knees, his face and hands covered in blood from the deer. Chester could see the deer’s belly had been torn open and the man had begun to tear out its entrails and devour them.
“Wha … what the heck are you doin’?” yelled Chester “Why are ya …”
Chester was cut short as the man moaned and lunged, hands outstretched towards him. He took two quick steps backward easily avoiding the man’s grasp. The man fell face first onto the ground but pushed himself up slowly then stood and started moving again towards Chester. The man snarled at him as the blood and intestines of the deer dripped down his face and onto his tattered clothing.
“Don’t come any closer buddy. I will hurt you.” Chester warned raising his machete.
Paying no attention to his threat, the man continued moaning and moving forward grasping for Chester at every step. At last the man lunged, but before he could reach him, Chester’s machete blade was flying through the air landing a blow on the man’s right arm severing it above the elbow.
To Chester’s shock the man staggered and then, seemingly unfazed by the loss of an appendage, leapt at Chester once again. Chester swung the machete with full force; it bit into the man’s shoulder but failed to stop his aggressive advance. As the man clawed for Chester with his one good arm he gnashed his teeth and lurched forward again in an attempt to bite him.
Fueled by adrenaline, Chester now began to rain down blows on the man with his machete. To his horror the man kept attacking him and was only finally put down by a timely blow to the back of his head. The man fell to the ground unmoving and Chester, in a state of exhaustion, collapsed to the ground beside him. As he labored to catch his breath and calm himself Chester noted that the fatal strike had landed at the base of the man’s head and cut almost entirely through the neck. He also noticed that his wounds were not bleeding profusely as should be the case but rather oozed a thick dark substance.
Chester shuddered at the grotesqueness of the entire scene and the realization that he had just killed a man. It was in self-defense he tried to tell himself. Unable to control his stomach any longer, Chester leaned over and lost his breakfast.
“I don’t know what was wrong with him but he did not seem human,” Chester thought as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
Steeling himself against the sight and smell of the man, he searched his body to try and obtain
some sort of identification with which he could report the incident to the authorities. Chester believed that this man needed to be examined as something was very wrong. The dead man had nothing in his pockets besides a key to one of the cabins that made up the “Blue Ridge Wilderness B&B”; located several miles away. Upon finishing the search, Chester wiped his machete blade with several leaves before sheathing it. Then making note of his currently location on his map, quickly made his way back to his campsite.
Chester’s campsite consisted of a small tent assembled against the side of his pickup truck. A small fire pit ringed with tiny rocks filled with the ashen remains of last night’s fire lay nearby. His bear bag moved slightly in the breeze as it hung suspended between two trees.
As he entered the clearing, a squirrel darted back into the underbrush unnoticed by Chester. He quickly reached his truck, opened the door, and pulled out his shortwave radio. Turning it on, he tuned it to the local emergency channel and tried to raise the nearest park ranger station. Unable to contact anyone he set the radio to scan and quickly went about breaking down his camp and loading his belongings into the truck.
Once all his camping and hunting gear was stowed in the bed of his truck Chester jumped in the cab with his radio. After one more futile attempt to raise anyone with the radio, he started the truck and headed down the access road. He planned to drive to the nearest ranger station to report what had happened and then onto the cabins to see if he could help the rangers identify the man from the woods. While he drove Chester set the radio to scan the airways until he could pick up a signal.
Thirty minutes later Chester arrived at the ranger station. It was a small log cabin with a watchtower around back which the rangers used to spot wildfires. When he was on the clock this was where he was assigned. The ranger’s truck was gone and after a quick search he determined the building was empty. Curiously, all of the ranger’s gear, including the radio, was gone as well.
The Zombie Principle Page 4