Portlandtown: A Tale of the Oregon Wyldes

by Rob DeBorde

  Kick turned and saw a man, perhaps thirty feet away, struggling to get through the floodwaters. He stumbled, fell to one knee, then jerked himself upright again. It was nearly dark and the nearest streetlamp had failed to come on, making it difficult to see clearly, but it appeared he was clothed only in a thin white gown that floated on the water’s surface at the man’s thigh.

  “Hey, mister,” Kick called out.

  The figure stopped, tilted his head toward Kick, and stumbled forward again. After a few steps, the man lost his footing and tumbled face-first into the water.

  “Help me up, Maddie!”

  Maddie pulled Kick back onto the boardwalk and together they ran to the nearest crossing. This particular bridge had been built with double-width boards, making it more stable than most. Kick bounded up the plank, with Maddie hot on his heels. When they reached the man, he was on his knees with his garment pulled over his head, struggling to free himself.

  “Hang on, mister,” Kick said, kneeling to help untangle the man from his clothes. That’s when he saw the Y-shaped scar on his chest. It was massive and sewn together with large looping stitches—fresh stitches.

  Kick scooted back, nearly slipping off the back of the bridge. Maddie held him steady.

  “What is it?”

  Kick pointed just as the man’s gown slipped back into place. Maddie never saw the scar—she didn’t need to. What she saw was much worse.

  The man had no eyes. Where there should have been life there were only black, bottomless sockets oozing dark fluid and rainwater. The same mixture poured forth from the creature’s mouth, which hung open much wider than should have been possible. Deep gashes split the cheeks from the corner of the mouth nearly to the ears on both sides. Loose stitches stretched across the gap but no longer held it closed.

  “Kick, what’s wrong with him?”

  The zombie flinched at Maddie’s voice and then stumbled forward, catching itself on the scaffolding. It leaned its head toward the twins and, swinging it from side to side, bit at the air, searching for something on which to feed.

  Kick pulled his knees back and then kicked forward as hard as he could. He caught the creature squarely in the chest, knocking it backward into the water, where it disappeared beneath the surface.

  Maddie stared at the water. “You kicked him.”

  “He was trying to bite me!”

  Maddie shook her head. Something wasn’t right. She didn’t fault her brother’s reaction but rather her own. Why hadn’t she fought back? Why had she hesitated?

  “I didn’t know he was going to,” she said softly. “Did you?”

  Kick heard what his sister had said but didn’t respond. Maddie opened her mouth, but Kick quickly silenced her with a hand gesture. He pointed at the water.

  The zombie had resurfaced. It was sitting up, head and shoulders above the water, but turned away from the kids. Very slowly, it began to turn.

  Kick made a single gesture, which Maddie correctly interpreted as listening. Silently, he got to his feet, positioning his sister in front of him. He motioned for her to move. She didn’t. Her hands told the story.

  There are more.

  Two figures, one in a long gown, the other stripped down to a pair of ragged leather pants, stood on the boardwalk near the end of the crossing, swaying back and forth. A third, draped in what could only be a ragged bedsheet, stumbled forward in the water along the walkway’s edge. When the bridge stopped its progress it let out a low, sustained moan and was soon joined by the two standing on the boardwalk.

  The zombie in the center of the street repeated the plaintiff cry, drawing the attention of the others. Maddie saw what she was sure were eyes catching a flicker of light from somewhere in the darkness. These creatures could see.

  As proof, the two on the boardwalk quickly focused their attention to the twins. The shirtless zombie managed a few tentative steps out onto the crossing before tumbling over the edge and into the water. The second creature ventured out more slowly, having learned from its companion. It didn’t get far, however.

  “Hey, you fellas all right there?”

  A man dressed in a long coat and a wide-brimmed hat approached the edge of the crossing. His attention shifted from the zombie on the bridge to those in the water. He appeared not to notice the twins.

  “Bad night to be stuck in the mud. Come on, give me your hand,” he said, reaching out to the creature nearest to him.

  “No!” Maddie screamed much too late.

  The zombie was fast. It grabbed the man’s wrist and pulled him into the water with one swift jerk. The man bobbed up, tried to get to his feet, but was knocked down as the creature standing on the bridge fell on top of him. The man struggled but stayed under this time, unable to rise with the weight of the creature on top of him. He wouldn’t drown, however. He wouldn’t have the chance. Both zombies opened their mouths wide and then dived beneath the surface. The man soon stopped struggling.

  Kick and Maddie stood at the center of the crossing, neither able to move. The connection that had kept them so close, had always allowed them to act as one, was gone. Physically they were only inches apart, but it might as well have been miles. They had gotten so used to following each other’s lead, they were lost without it.

  Kick wanted to run, but his sister wasn’t moving.

  Maddie wanted to run, but her brother wouldn’t budge.

  The shirtless zombie, unable to find a way through the scaffolding to join in the feast, turned its attention back to its original target. A fifth creature, this one with long, black hair and a slender, feminine figure, had also spied the twins. It stepped onto the bridge and slowly began to close the gap. The blind zombie was on its feet and walking—not toward the twins but rather the opposite end of the crossing. It was moving to cut them off.

  Maddie held her hand behind her back but relayed no message. Kick reached out and took it. That was all they needed to reconnect, to understand, to be one again.

  And that’s when hands grabbed each around the waist and pulled them backward into the water.

  24

  By the time Joseph and Kate reached the bar, the marshal was already partaking in a second round.

  “Whiskey?” he said, raising an eyebrow to Joseph.

  “No, Marshal.”

  The marshal shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  Kate watched her father empty his glass and then motion to the bartender for another.

  “Dad, we need to talk.”

  The marshal waited for his glass to be filled. “’Bout what?”

  “I think you know, Marshal,” Joseph said.

  The marshal lifted the whiskey to his lips but didn’t drink. Instead, he pulled a folded slip of paper from his pocket and set it on the bar.

  “Got your message. Can’t say I put much stock in it.”

  “It’s true, Dad.”

  The marshal looked at his daughter. “Bunch of ghosts, is what it is, Katie.”

  Kate felt Joseph’s touch and pulled back her anger. If what he’d told her was true, the weapon beneath her father’s coat was made to bring out the worst in a man. He might not be able to help himself.

  Kate reached out to her father, only to have him pull away, the look of suspicion in his eyes one she’d never seen before.

  “Dad?”

  The marshal glared at his daughter, not sure who she was until the first tear slipped down her cheek. That was for him.

  “Oh, Katie, I’m sorry.”

  Her embrace was warm and full and the marshal worried only for a moment that his daughter might be trying to steal it.

  “Let’s go home,” she said. “We can talk this through there.”

  The marshal nodded and then turned back the bar to finish his drink. Upon seeing the telegram, he lowered the glass. “Think I’m done for the night,” he said, pocketing the paper.

  Kate smiled and hooked her father’s arm. “Joseph?”

  As soon as Kate and her father had come together,
Joseph let his senses go, reaching into the conversations about the hall in search of a familiar young voice or two. This time, it took barely a minute to determine the twins weren’t in the room.

  “They’re not here.”

  “No doubt getting into trouble,” Kate said, losing her smile. “They’re quite accomplished in that regard.”

  “They were supposed to find us.”

  “It’s a big hotel. They might have gone exploring, upstairs, or…”

  Joseph followed Kate’s gaze past the front door and out into the night. The worst of the thunder and lightning had passed, but the rain continued. He pushed his senses harder, subtracting the celebration around him until all that remained was the muffled patter of raindrops on rooftops, sidewalks, and flooded streets. The downpour actually helped to define the landscape, give it dimension. Joseph could see the street more clearly in the storm than most people would be able to in the light of day. He moved between the drops, listening for any signs of life. Finally, he found one—his daughter.

  She was screaming.

  * * *

  Maddie hit the water but, to her surprise, didn’t go under. Whoever had pulled her from the bridge had also kept her from submerging. She got to her feet and then felt the hand loosen its grip on her waist. Maddie spun on her attacker to find the weatherman standing before her.

  “Mr. Edmonds?”

  Before Edmonds could answer, the female zombie stumbled off the bridge and into the water behind the kids.

  “Come on,” Edmonds said, motioning for the kids to follow.

  They did.

  * * *

  Joseph pushed through the crowd toward the front entrance, with Kate right behind him. They were almost in the clear when a woman’s scream shut down all conversation in the room and froze Joseph in his tracks. He found the woman ten feet to his right, scuttling backward into the crowd. In the silence, Joseph heard the wet scraping very clearly.

  “Oh my god,” Kate whispered.

  It was the twisted foot of the thing dragging across the floor that made the noise. The zombie lurched forward into the light of the hall, dripping wet and naked save for a swatch of leather hung across its waist. Only it wasn’t leather, it was skin. The creature’s stomach had been cut wide open and sewn back together, only to have the lower flap come undone. A single section of intestine that dangled from the left side of the opening swung back and forth with each stagger. The belly cavity was otherwise empty, having already spilled most of its loosely packed contents in the street.

  Try as he might, Joseph couldn’t fix the horrific image in his head. It made no sense, even after what he’d seen in Astoria. It couldn’t be as he imagined it.

  “Joseph, is he alive?”

  Joseph listened but heard no heartbeat or gathering of breath. Like the others, it was already dead.

  The zombie stumbled forward, tilting the crowd back on their heels. The hotel manager stepped in front of the creature and raised his hands.

  “Sir, please, can I help you?”

  The zombie tilted its head as if confused by his inquiry.

  The manager, finally able to see the extent of the man’s condition, swallowed hard. “You’re hurt, sir. You need a doctor.”

  The creature snapped its mouth closed with a wet smack. The people standing nearest to it recoiled.

  It was then that a second zombie thumped against one of the large sidewalk windows, followed by a third and then a fourth. All three wore long, white gowns that did little to hide the fact that they were just as grotesque as the first. The windowpane cracked as the creatures began slowly pounding on it.

  The manager cringed at the damage inflicted on his hotel and wondered briefly if he could add it to the city’s tab. The thought would be his last.

  The naked zombie fell on the man, driving his body to the floor. The manager’s head struck the floor with enough force to render him unconscious, sparing him the worst of his assailant’s attack. Those standing close enough to see the zombie sink its teeth into the soft tissue of manager’s throat received no such kindness.

  Two men attempted to wrestle the creature off the manager but were themselves attacked by a trio of half-naked nightmares. One of the men slipped free; the other stumbled over the first zombie and fell to the floor. All three creatures set upon him at once.

  It took the sound of shattering glass to finally break the spell of confusion that had kept the shocked citizenry frozen in the presence of such horror. Screaming filled the hall, and the tentative retreat that had begun moments earlier became a stampede to find an exit. The front entrance was not an option. Six more zombies had already navigated the double doors and more were climbing through broken windows on both sides of the entrance. The exit on the south side of the hall was quickly cut off. A few people made it to the doorway on the far side but quickly turned back as a tall, armless man stumbled through the opening. There were two doors at the back of the room, but because of the festival stage only one was accessible. The small staff door quickly became clogged with bodies trying to force their way through.

  Despite the chaos around him, Joseph held his ground at the leading edge of the otherwise retreating crowd. He’d finally reconciled his mind’s view to reality and was now refocusing his attention on what stood between him and the front door. All extraneous noise and nuance fell away, leaving only the ever-increasing army of the dead staggering into the hall. Joseph tracked fifteen in the room, six more trying to get in. He gauged their movement, speed, and aggressiveness, searching for strengths and weaknesses. There were plenty of both.

  Kate, having pushed aside her fears in favor of survival, leaned close to her husband.

  “What do we do?” she asked.

  “Get outside.”

  “How do we do that?”

  “They’re clumsy,” Joseph said. “Get them off-balance and they’ll fall. They’re strong, though. Watch that they don’t grab you.”

  “Can’t grab what they don’t see.”

  Kate slid from behind Joseph, moving in such a way as to seem part of the background. The closest zombies adjusted their approach to take on two targets rather than one. Kate stopped.

  “They can see me.”

  “So it would seem. We do it the hard way, then. Stay close.”

  Joseph had nearly worked out a path through the horde when the first shot rang out. A zombie at the lead of the pack staggered but didn’t fall. Two more bullets hit the creature’s chest, one passing through completely to strike a second zombie. Neither went down.

  A pair of police officers moved through the crowd until they were less than ten feet from their targets. It took only a few seconds to empty their weapons, each bullet finding flesh but doing little damage.

  The zombies closed in.

  “Shoot them in the head,” Joseph yelled.

  One officer glanced Joseph’s way as the other attempted to reload his pistol. He was fast, but not fast enough. The zombie was on top of him before he could raise the weapon.

  Joseph stepped forward, kicking the creature in the leg, crushing its knee, and sending it sprawling to the ground. A second zombie lunged but caught only air as Joseph slipped under its outstretched arms.

  The officer finished his reload and fired point-blank into the nearest target. Three shots to the heart did nothing. A fourth shot struck the creature square in the forehead and it crumpled to the ground. The shot had not come from the policeman’s weapon.

  Joseph knew immediately who had fired the shot. He recognized the sound of the gun, just as he had known he would. It was the Hanged Man’s red-handled pistol, wielded by the marshal from atop the bar.

  “Get down!” the marshal barked, and nearly all who heard him did as ordered.

  The marshal fired again, striking another zombie in the head. It hiccupped, blinked, and fell to the floor a lifeless corpse. The marshal repeated the action again and again with similar results. His sixth shot took the ear off a short zombie but didn’t knoc
k it down. The marshal didn’t bother to reload. He didn’t have to. The seventh shot hit the creature in the eye, bringing it down instantly.

  “Hit ’em in the head, men!” cried the marshal. “That’ll take ’em down.”

  The marshal engaged once more and was soon joined by both police officers and several other armed locals. Unfortunately, none of the other shooters was the marshal’s equal in accuracy or judgment. Two zombies went down, along with three members of the crowd, struck by stray bullets. The chaotic scene worsened as the crowd scrambled to avoid being shot, attacked, or both.

  Joseph did his best to make sure neither he nor Kate was in the line of fire and then refocused on an exit strategy. The situation had not improved. More zombies continued to pour into the hall. Many were shot, but in doing so ended up as obstacles to a quick escape. Joseph plotted what he believed was the best course and then found Kate’s hand.

  “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  Joseph took a deep breath and lifted his voice above the chaos. “Marshal, we need a path!”

  The marshal was already attempting to do just that, but all the damn people were making it difficult. He steadied his aim and fired.

  Two zombies directly in front of Joseph and Kate fell on the spot. That was enough. They ran, Joseph first, jumping over bodies and scooting around the outstretched arms of a livelier corpse. Kate had to spin around the same creature as it reoriented its attack to her. That brought her face-to-face with a dead woman who briefly mirrored Kate’s surprise in her expression before opening her mouth wide. The creature never got the chance to bite, as Joseph grabbed a handful of its long, black hair and yanked it away from his wife.

  Kate’s eyes widened. “Behind you!”

  Joseph was already moving, taking the legs out from under both zombies that had come at them. He grabbed Kate’s hand and led her to the front entrance. A single zombie stood on the other side of the door.

  “Get down!” Joseph yelled.

  Joseph opened the door and hit the deck along with Kate. The zombie stood, confused, for a moment, never getting the chance to enter the hall before a bullet blew what remained of its brain out through the back of its skull. It fell to the floor in a heap.