Lies of the Prophet

by Ike Hamill

  “You forgot your change,” said the clerk.

  “Keep it,” said Carol.

  She had more important things to deal with. Up on her tiptoes, Carol could see the shuffling homeless guy. He was heading straight for Billy’s car. She couldn’t see Lynne, that part of the car was blocked by the ice machine, but she knew one thing: if Lynne knew this guy was coming her way, she would have moved already. Carol pushed open the door. The bell attached to the door tinkled, but the shuffling guy didn’t make any sign of hearing. He was several paces away—roughly between her and the car.

  Carol slipped through the door and wondered why Lynne hadn’t seen the guy yet. The thought was still young in her head when she saw the second guy. He approached the vehicle from behind and was even closer. He had the same limp disposition, but he was different. He didn’t have any shoes or socks and he wore a filthy-dirty gray suit. The tie around his neck disappeared under his jacket, like it was tucked up over his shoulder. One of his eyes was open and the other was closed. He shuffled towards the car with a limp. Each time his torso lurched his shirt flapped and Carol could see his bare white belly.

  Neither man moved very fast. Carol debated if she could make it to the door before they caught her; assuming that they were even after her. Lynne looked up as if she could hear Carol’s thoughts. A third person, a woman, appeared from behind the dumpster. She joined the triangulation. Now these shuffling, dirty people headed towards Lynne from three angles. Carol pointed and yelled for Lynne to look.

  Carol’s yell attracted the attention of the closest man. He spun—much too fast for his ambling pace—and shot her an angry, accusatory look. Carol backed up instinctively. She looked over her shoulder through the glass door. The clerk was hunched over a newspaper spread out on the counter. The aisles were too tight in there—she didn’t want to get cornered by this angry man. A little wind picked up his scent and sent it wafting towards Carol. She gagged on it. He smelled of dirt, decay, and ammonia.

  Lynne heard Carol’s scream and focused on the front of the store. Two of the zombies reached Billy’s vehicle at the same time. They beat on the windows with their forearms and the sides of their fists.

  Carol saw Lynne descend into panic. She had problems of her own though. The man who’d turned towards her was gaining speed, and she had no idea what to do. Carol glanced down in her bag and then clutched it to her chest. She ran for the gas pumps. To get to the open part of the parking lot, Carol had to get by a big stack of soda cases. She darted. The homeless man’s fingers shot out and brushed the fabric of her blouse. He moved so fast.

  Billy’s tires smoked and squealed when Lynne pulled out. Lynne bounced the vehicle up over the curb and then back down on the pavement as she gunned the engine and spun the big steering wheel. Carol cut between the pumps and angled for the parking lot’s exit, where Lynne headed. Billy’s car screeched to a stop right in front of Carol. She grabbed for the door handle. It snapped back, tearing from her grip and chipping her middle fingernail. Carol sucked in a startled breath.

  Lynne reached over to unlock the passenger door. In her panic she forgot the controls on her armrest. Their eyes met through the window. Carol was still stupidly holding the bag and newspaper. Her other hand was pressed against the glass, beseeching, but Lynne couldn’t work the door fast enough. Lynne gave up on the lock and banged on the inside of the window, pointing for Carol to look behind herself.

  When Carol turned her head she knew what she would see, but she was still shocked. The zombie people were right on top of her. If the door had been unlocked she would have easily been inside Billy’s car, but it was too late now. She finally dropped the bag and backed up against the vehicle, her eyes were so wide it felt like they would fall out of her head. The closest man laid a hand on Carol’s arm and she screamed. Over his shoulder, impossibly far away, she saw the clerk walk out of the convenience store with a pack of cigarettes in his hand. He wasn’t even looking in their direction.

  A third shabby stalker came around the back of the car as the second man grabbed Carol.

  They weren’t yet hurting her—perhaps their grip was too tight, but it barely qualified as assault—but it was their eyes that terrified Carol. Nothing lived in their dark eyes, and no humanity inhabited their bared teeth. The men pulled—they were strong—and Carol came easily away from the side of the car.

  Billy’s car lurched and revved behind her. Lynne had finally given up on getting the door open and was back behind the wheel.

  The men tugged at Carol. Their hands were joined by more as the rest of the shuffling people caught up and grabbed at her arms and shoulders from all sides. Behind her she heard the roar of Billy’s engine as Lynne stabbed the accelerator. She tried to turn to look, but the dirty hands dragged her away. One pulled her hair back as the others towed her forward. She kicked at them, trying to land a blow, while attempting to stay on her feet. She succeeded at neither. All she could see was the sky as her feet slipped out from under her. Savage hands grabbed her ankles and thighs as Carol thrashed to get away.

  She screamed for the clerk; screamed for Lynne; screamed for anyone.

  They carried her at waist-level and absorbed her twisting and thrashing with their limp arms and strong hands. She saw the corner of the convenience store’s roof pass by and knew they were taking her down the alley by the dumpster. Carol tilted her head back and caught site of the back of Billy’s car. Hope flashed for Carol as she saw that the reverse lights were on and it was coming closer. Before it cleared half the distance, two more zombie-people stepped it its path. The brake lights flared and the car lurched to a stop. Carol was dragged around the corner. Her last sight was Billy’s car pulling away once again, this time it pulled out onto the street.

  She was lifted to shoulder-height as they got to the back of the building. Carol was face-to-face with a zombie woman. Her face was caked in smeared makeup. Her wig was askew. Carol was enough to smell the decay of her teeth.

  “Hey,” yelled a man’s voice. Behind the zombie-woman’s ear Carol spotted the clerk. He stood a few paces away, next to the propped open back door of the store. The two black holes of his shotgun were pointed at the group holding Carol.

  The hands paused. The zombie-woman turned her head slowly around, until most of Carol’s field of view was the back of zombie-woman’s bad wig.

  Carol thrashed and got her wrist free.

  “Put her down!” ordered the clerk.

  Carol punched at the zombie-woman—she was the closest—with her free hand. The wig fell away immediately, but aside from that, her blows seemed to carry no consequence.

  “I said put her down,” the man yelled again. He raised his weapon to his shoulder.

  The hands started moving again. They pushed Carol towards the fence. Her feet went first. The backs of her calves scraped across the top of the chain-link fence and new, cold hands grabbed her feet and pulled her to the other side of the fence.

  “Hey! Get off me,” she heard the clerk say. A shot rang out, but just one.

  Carol kept moving—the hands passed her over the fence where new hands waited to pull her across. Her head banged on the top of the fence and one of the metal wires dug into her ear. They dragged her through dense bushes. Leaves and branches scraped across her face and prevented Carol from getting a look at her new captors.

  Finally, they emerged from the brush and the dropped her to waist-level again. Carol started to yell, but caught it in her throat. Her mouth gaped open as she looked up at these people who carried her along. They made the others look perfectly normal in comparison. A man, she assumed he was a man because of his tattered suit, gripped her under her right armpit. He wasn’t much more than a walking skeleton. One strip of loose, leathery skin dangled from his cheekbone, but the rest of his skull was bare of skin. Brown, dusty muscle worked his jaw up and down as he moved. He turned his head towards Carol and she peered up into his empty eye sockets. Five or six ivory teeth clacked together at Carol before
he turned his attention back to the front.

  The moving corpse on her left was in slightly better shape. Dirty white hair capped a severely wrinkled face. She looked normal except for her missing nose. Carol flopped her head backwards and saw the upside-down bushes retreating. On either side, she saw rows of headstones. Carol tugged and thrashed. Her adrenaline surged. Her breath quickened with the hot fear burning in her belly. She could hear the wide-open roar of a car engine approaching.

  The boney fingers clutching her weren’t as strong as her original captors. She felt the loose flesh struggling to keep a grip on her as she twisted. She timed her twists and felt one of her legs tear free. The car engine sounded closer.

  “Get off,” she growled between her clenched teeth. Carol caught one of the zombies with a desperate kick. She thought she felt brittle bones breaking. The white-haired zombie on her left looked down and opened her mouth, bearing her dry teeth at Carol. One of the zombie-lady’s eyes looked healthy, but where the skin was pulled back Carol could see the hard edge—it was glass. The deep groves of the zombie’s face almost formed a smile. Diamonds glittered in the zombie’s leather-brown earlobes.

  Carol jerked her free leg upward and hooked it around the torso of another zombie. She kicked with her heel and developed some angular momentum. The weak hands tore away as Carol flipped over backwards. She landed on her stomach. Quick, dead hands descended as Carol scrambled backwards. Carol was too fast for these ragged creatures. She got to her feet and backed away.

  The true magnitude of her problem swam into focus. Just past her small group, stood a huge congregation of tattered undead. They turned their attention towards Carol at once. Within a breath, they started towards her. The group easily spanned seven rows of headstones. They were three dozen abreast and any number deep. Carol jogged backwards. She knew she should turn to run, but couldn’t take her eyes off the crowd of corpses chasing her.

  Behind her, Billy’s car approached fast. Lynne honked the horn wildly until Carol glanced away from the congregation.

  Carol saw it just in time to leap. She had nearly stumbled into rough hole in the earth where something had escaped its grave.

  Lynne barreled down the service road and pulled up to the end of the row. She leaned over and threw open the door while Carol was still running up. With just a couple of glances over her shoulder, Carol sprinted for the car. The mass of zombies was spreading out. Some of the more intact undead ran fast—faster than Carol—and gained ground quickly. Others lurched and swayed, and lagged behind.

  Carol launched herself at the open door and Lynne spun the tires as soon as her body hit the seat. The door flopped shut against Carol’s foot and bounced back enough for her to pull it inside. Zombies thudded into the back of the car as Lynne accelerated away. Lynne veered left to get away from the sprinters who were closing on the near exit. She aimed for the gate on the far side of the cemetery.

  “Holy fuck,” said Carol.

  “Are you okay?” asked Lynne.

  “I don’t know, I guess,” said Carol.

  “No bites?”

  “What? Bites?” asked Carol.

  “Did they bite you?” asked Lynne.

  “No, why? I mean, I don’t think so. Why?” asked Carol.

  “Isn’t that the old thing? They seemed like zombies. Aren’t zombies supposed to bite you to infect you or something?” asked Lynne.

  “I thought they were The Passage,” said Carol.

  “Well, they are I guess,” said Lynne. “There’s Sparkle everywhere. It just drips all over. That’s how I was able to track you down so easily. There’s a river of Sparkle coming off that group and it’s spreading everywhere.”

  “What does it look like?” asked Carol.

  Lynne didn’t even slow down for the traffic signal; she just turned the wheel and accelerated through the turn. They merged onto the highway already doing eighty.

  “I don’t know how to explain it,” said Lynne. “It’s just like this extra sheen of sparkly stuff. It flows and pools, like a liquid, but it comes off The Passage like it’s a visible odor, you know?”

  “Not really,” said Carol. “Do you think that’s happening everywhere?”

  “If it is, it’s bound to be on the radio,” said Lynne. “See if you can find news anywhere.”

  Carol reached for the controls.

  “Well, regardless,” said Carol. “If we’re headed to Pittsburgh, let’s take the western route, down through New York state.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because there are about a billion graveyards along the immediate coast,” said Carol. She set the radio to scan the stations. They caught little taste of each song before the radio moved on to the next signal.

  “Wait, back it up,” said Lynne.

  “I don’t know if I can,” said Carol. “Oh, wait.”

  The radio returned to a female voice—“… since early this afternoon. Officer Jacobs, what can you tell us about the surprising events at the Lawndale cemetery this afternoon?”

  A man’s voice came on, distant from the microphone at first, and then slightly too loud—“Well, first off, we want everyone to know that there’s no reason to panic. We’ve seen this before, and as far as we know there’s nothing to be afraid of. These are just people. Mothers and Fathers and siblings. Just remember, they’re just like you and me.”

  “What do you mean we’ve seen this before? Are you referring to Gregory?” asked the reporter.

  “Well, yeah,” said the officer. “Everyone knows that this is possible now. It shouldn’t be a shock, and it’s obviously nothing to be worried about. It’s not like they’re attacking anyone. They’re just moving about their business. If we leave them alone, I don’t see why we have anything to worry about.”

  “Is this happening any other places that you know about?” asked the reporter.

  “Well yes, it is,” said the officer. “We’re getting reports from several other east coast localities that report this same type of activity. But, like I said, it’s nothing to be too concerned about.”

  “But if they’re just like Gregory, why haven’t they spoken to anyone? And why do they look like that? Gregory never looked decomposed,” said the reporter.

  “Well, as far as you know, he didn’t,” said the cop. “We don’t know what he first looked like when he first came out of the grave. He could have looked just like these people. And maybe he didn’t talk at first either.”

  “Our network has obtained a statement from Gregory where he says that these uprisings have nothing to do with him. He says that they are a completely independent phenomenon,” stated the reporter.

  The cop cut her off before she could ask the question—“Well of course that’s what he would say. He wants to stay unique and all that.”

  “But why are you so confident that we have nothing to fear?” asked the reporter.

  “Look, panic will get you nowhere,” said the cop. “You have to stay calm. Like I said, nobody has been hurt and we have no reason to believe that anyone will be. All of these guys, The Passage I guess you’d say, are just meeting together near their grave sites. They’re not trying to hide, and they’re not attacking or breaking any kind of law. There’s no reason at all for us to be fearful.”

  “What about the natural law?” asked the reporter. “What about the law that says that once you die you’re supposed to stay dead? Aren’t they breaking that law?”

  “That’s not a law, per se,” said the cop. “You’ve got to make some allowance…”

  He was cut off by a network anchor being rebroadcast from television—“We interrupt your normal programming to bring you this bulletin from our headquarters in New York City,” said the man. “Our field reporters across the country are reporting a massive uprising of previously embalmed citizens.”

  “Heh,” said Lynne. “They’re already come up with a non-offensive name for zombies.”

  “Shhh!” said Carol.

  “…have been
reported at this time,” continued the anchorman.

  “What did he say?” asked Lynne.

  “Shhh!” said Carol.

  “Several sources report that at seventeen minutes past the hour, people thought to be dead rose from their resting places and began to congregate,” said the anchor.

  LYNNE REACHED OVER AND TURNED OFF THE RADIO.

  “They’re all the same,” she said.

  “But they might have something new,” said Carol.

  “We’ve been listening for an hour. We can check again later; they’ve got nothing new to say. Zero information packaged in as many words as possible,” said Lynne.

  “I wonder why they’re not reporting any attacks. Do you think they’re in on it somehow?” asked Carol.

  “I just assumed that nobody is being attacked,” said Lynne. “They would say something if that were happening.”

  “What about us? What about the convenience store guy?” asked Carol.

  “Maybe they’re only after us,” suggested Lynne. “You said they only went after the clerk when he tried to help you, right?”

  “Yeah,” said Carol.

  “I saw that clerk standing in front of the store. He was right there when the whole thing went down. They could have gotten to him at any time, but they only showed any interest when he was trying to get them to put you down. I think they were just trying to capture you, or maybe both of us.”

  “So you think Donna is behind this?” asked Carol.

  “Or maybe Gregory. Or maybe both. They could be working together. I’d be surprised if a whole new crop of undead popped up and it had nothing to do with Gregory,” said Lynne.

  “That’s what everyone on the radio assumes too,” said Carol. “You want this next exit if we’re going to take the western route.”

  “Good,” said Lynne. “You said there are less graveyards that way?”

  “Way less,” said Carol. “Most of the population is concentrated right along the coast, and people have lived there a lot longer too. If this thing is affecting all the graveyards equally, then we should have a lot better chance if we head west. But that’s assuming that they’re all after us and they know where we are. Maybe it was just a weird coincidence that those people grabbed me. They can’t all be after us, can they? That’s crazy.”