by Tom Mohan
Martinez turned his back against the wall and closed his eyes. “I’m trying to be strong, to trust the Lord, but I’m about at the end of my rope here. Ever since I found your sorry carcass in the park…”
Burke remained silent.
“Only thing that keeps me going is trusting that Trinny was right. That she was being kept alive for a purpose. She had such faith.” The big man looked over at Burke, tears running down his cheeks. “I have to have that same faith, or I’ll hate you so much I might just kill you myself.”
“Join the club,” Burke muttered.
Martinez chuckled. “Yeah, what’s one more person wanting you dead, huh?”
“Just a few days ago I considered killing myself. Now it seems like everyone wants me dead—but I’m still here. Red talked a lot about purpose, like your wife. I really didn’t go for it at the time, but now I have to admit I’m beginning to wonder.”
Martinez turned and took another glance out the window. “Speaking of your ghost, where is she? Could use all the help we can get here.”
Burke shrugged. “I haven’t seen her since the lake. She does seem to have a habit of disappearing when trouble starts.”
For a time, Burke sat in silence. Martinez seemed lost in his own thoughts as well. Burke was about to suggest the shooter might have left, when he heard something in the distance. He cocked his ear toward the window and held his breath.
“You hear that?”
Martinez looked at him. “What?”
“Listen. I think I hear barking.”
After a second, Martinez said, “Dogs. Coming closer.”
A shadow fell over the cabin, and Burke looked up to see dark clouds drifting in over the lake. Within moments, the shadow of twilight descended on them, though it was still the middle of the day. As the darkness fell, the sound of barking drew closer.
Martinez risked another peek out the window. “Could this possibly get any weirder?”
“After all we’ve seen over the last few days, I don’t want to know the answer to that question.” Burke knelt and looked outside. He saw something move at the edge of the tree line and ducked out of the window. “Something’s out there. I couldn’t tell if it had four legs or two.”
“The barking’s close by. I’d guess four. This could work out in our favor,” Martinez said. “A pack of wild dogs out here will be hungry.”
Burke gaped. “And that’s good for us, how?”
Martinez smiled. “We’re in here. The shooter’s out there.”
The man has a point, Burke mused. Packs of wild dogs had terrorized rural areas for the past decade. Gas prices dried up the small, mountain and desert towns that relied on vacationers, and the populations who had lived there moved to the cities. Many left their dogs behind to fend for themselves. Over the years, the dogs had mated with local coyotes, creating a new breed of predator.
Burke saw more shadows darting in and out of the trees. The barking became more like baying. “Do they normally sound like that?”
Martinez shrugged. “I’m a city boy. What do I know about wild dogs? But I bet they’re gonna go for the bodies. Probably what drew them in the first place.” In the dim light, the big man’s face showed no emotion, but Burke heard the pain in his voice. Once again, Burke wished he had something to say.
A stiff breeze began to pick up. The trees swayed and hissed as the wind blew through the leaves. Dirt blasted the cabins as clouds accumulated above them. “Laura and I used to come up to the mountains before Sara was born. We had a storm like this roll in on us one time, before they put the cabins in. We were camping with only a tent. It hit so fast we didn’t even have time to tear down camp. We just tossed what we could in the car and took off. I thought we wouldn’t make it down the mountain.”
Another howl sounded from the oncoming storm. Other howls answered. Many others.
“Get ready,” Martinez said. “They’re about to make their move. Storm’s gotta be spooking them, but the scent of meat’s making them brave.”
As if on cue, the first dog entered the area between the cabins. It was a scrawny thing, but not for a moment did Burke think of it as weak. Two more skulked from the shadows to join the first. One of them raised its snout and sniffed the air, and then let loose a howl. The proximity of the beast as it called out caused the hairs on the back of Burke’s neck to stand up. He shuddered, not wanting to think about how many others might be out there. More shadows moved about the cabins now.
They were everywhere.
“Didn’t know they traveled in such large packs,” Martinez muttered.
Burke shook his head. “They don’t. They could never find enough food to feed a pack that large.”
“Where could they be coming from?” More howls rose in the distance.
“It’s like they’re being called.” Burke watched as one of the dogs snapped at another. Then, it turned toward the cabin in which the men were huddled. Its golden raptor-like eyes locked on the window.
Both men jumped as something heavy slammed against the back door of the cabin.
“What the—” Burke almost shouted.
“They’re trying the door,” Martinez said. “They’re actually trying the door.”
“They must find food in old buildings like this and know that the doors are the way in,” Burke said, trying to rationalize the irrational. Another body hit the door, but the deadbolt held.
A sudden crash sent glass showering down on Burke. He yelled, covering his head with his arms. Something hit the floor in the center of the cabin, and Burke looked up to see one of the dogs turning to face them, its mouth drawn in a tight snarl. Before Burke remembered that he held the dead cop’s gun in his hand, an explosion from his left deafened him. The dog squealed and dropped as the bullet from Martinez’s gun tore into it. The big man shot the convulsing beast a second time for good measure.
“Gotta cover the windows,” Martinez said as he stood and took up a position at the window nearest the front of the cabin. He glanced at the pistol in Burke’s hand. “Know how to use that?”
Burke nodded. “I had a client who would only meet at gun ranges. Said it was the only place he felt safe. I got quite a bit of practice.”
The dogs were everywhere. The steady wind blew their shaggy coats as howls tore from their throats. One of them glared at Burke before springing toward the window. Burke’s pistol cracked, sending a slug through the beast’s body. The carcass thudded against the wall of the cabin just beneath the window and slumped to the ground.
As the sound of the gunshot cleared, an eerie quiet settled over the scene. The dogs continued to lurk, but they backed off and no longer howled. A few cocked their heads, listening to something only they could hear. They seemed skittish, not wanting to approach the cabin. Even the leader backed away, sniffing the wind and whining.
Burke heard a scratching sound behind him and spun around. The dog that had crashed through the window—the one he had been certain was dead—struggled to pull itself to its feet. Long claws scratched the wooden floor as the beast fought to pull its body upright. Its head hung limp, nose dragging the floor.
“What…” Martinez muttered.
The dog managed to pull itself to a standing position. Once the legs steadied, the head began to rise. It wobbled from side to side like a bobble-head doll before locking eyes with Burke.
Those eyes froze the blood in his veins.
The dog’s eyes were white, yet not dead. Something lived behind them, something that didn’t belong there. Burke aimed his gun at one of the eyes and pulled the trigger. The dog flew back and hit the far wall without uttering a sound.
Burke’s hands shook as he watched the animal fall to the floor. He kept his gun trained on it, ready to put another slug in it if it so much as twitched. It didn’t.
The dogs still outside the cabin were wild eyed. Their hungry growls turned to whines as they began snapping at whatever came near them. They appeared crazed, as though they were fighting to tu
rn tail and run but were unable to do so.
Movement to his right caught Burke’s attention. Outside, the dead cop sat upright. At first Burke thought a dog must have pulled the body into that position, but the beasts obviously wanted nothing to do with the corpse and were keeping well clear of it. Burke stared, mesmerized, as the cop turned his dead eyes on him. His bloodless blue lips turned up in a grotesque smile.
“No. Oh, please God, no.” Martinez stared out the window, looking to Burke’s left. A quick glance showed what had the big man so upset.
Katrina was also sitting up, gazing at her husband with the same dead eyes and horrible smile.
The two bodies pulled themselves drunkenly to their feet, like puppets on the strings of a novice puppeteer. They reminded Burke of so many of the zombie movies he had loved as a kid. But this was no movie, and one of those zombies had been his friend.
“Not my Katrina,” Martinez sobbed. “Whatever you are, you can’t have my Katrina.”
“Dave, something else is controlling them. Something evil.” Burke could see shadows swirling around the corpses, gyrating as they encased the bodies.
The big man nodded. “It can’t have her. Dead or not, it cannot…have…her.” Martinez raised his gun and pointed it at his wife. The man’s hands shook so badly that Burke didn’t think he would hit the animated corpse even if he did manage to fire. The thing that had been Katrina Martinez opened its mouth and licked its lips, as if flirting with her husband. The effect was ghastly.
Burke felt something rise up in him. Disgust? Yes, but something more. His heart cried out at the wrongness of it all. Katrina had been a good woman who would have given anyone the shirt off her back. Seeing her body treated in such a way struck a primal cord within him that insisted on justice. Heat boiled in his chest and spread throughout his body. The warmth felt good—powerful. He let the need for justice take over, allowing the heat to build to a dangerous level. He didn’t care.
Burke felt something slip into his body, something familiar. He recognized the light from the lake, the light that brought him back from the precipice. He knew this light was God. An awareness filled him—the antithesis of the darkness that had tried so hard to drag him to hell. Agony and overwhelming sorrow gave way to righteous anger alongside the creator’s love. Indescribable love alone drove his next action.
Burke looked back at Katrina’s animated body and felt the power within him grow stronger. He held up a fist that glowed with a throbbing orange light. Tossing his head back, he released a primal yell as he threw both hands out toward the walking dead. Twin bolts of energy shot from his fists and speared Katrina’s body. Her head tilted, mouth wide in a silent scream, as light tore through the dead flesh and found something hidden within. Something dark that could not stand the light.
A sound of fury and anguish burst forth from Katrina’s mouth, lashing out at the storm, ripping limbs from trees, and shattering the one unbroken window in the cabin before slamming into Burke. Darkness closed in around him, extinguishing the light and sending him tumbling headfirst into darkness.
Martinez watched the twin beams of light hit Katrina. The screech that exploded from her ravaged body sent him stumbling backward. That was when he saw Burke. The man’s hands glowed with a light so bright that Martinez was forced to look away. He only saw it for a moment before the force of the energy tossed Burke hard against the wall. Martinez shook his head, trying to clear the ringing in his ears. Whatever had uttered that scream, he knew for a fact it hadn’t been his Trinny.
Martinez dashed back to the window, ready to blow away anything that moved. Nothing did. Even the dogs had run off. The wind was steady but no longer gusting, and the clouds had settled into a smooth gray blanket instead of a rolling mass of chaos. The bodies of Trinny and the cop lay on the ground where they belonged, looking just as dead as they had before this madness had begun.
“I’m sorry, Trinny. I’m so sorry,” Martinez sobbed, tears streaming down his face. Without thinking, he unlocked the front door and stepped out into the breeze. The thought of Trinny’s body lying out there broke his heart. He didn’t care what else the camp ground might be hiding—he wanted to bring his wife’s body indoors. He scooped Trinny’s tiny form in his arms and carried her back into the cabin where he set her on the old bed they had shared the night before.
Martinez took a corner of the blanket and used it to wipe the water from Trinny’s peaceful face. The look she had given him just before that light hit her would haunt him for the rest of his life. Looking down at her, Martinez reminded himself the thing that had given him that look had not been her. Behind him, Burke groaned. Martinez sighed, knowing he should make sure his companion was all right. He closed his eyes and hung his head for a moment, dead tired. He wanted to lash out at Burke, to blame him for all of this, but his heart knew Burke was as much a victim here as Trinny. Hadn’t she told Burke that reality was no longer what they had always thought it to be?
Another groan from Burke brought Martinez back to the moment. He kissed his wife’s cold cheek, and then crawled over to Burke’s side. After a moment, Burke blinked his eyes open, staring up at Martinez.
“What happened?”
Martinez could only shake his head.
THEY BURIED THE young cop first, with little ceremony, although Martinez did insist on saying a prayer for his fellow officer. They chose a spot for him on the other side of the small compound, unmarked and unknown. Burke wondered if any family would miss him.
A somber mood reigned as the two men stood before the pile of rocks that marked the grave they had dug for Katrina. Martinez picked a spot far enough away from the cabins that he wouldn’t associate his wife’s final resting place with the run-down resort. Under normal conditions the area would have been beautiful, but the day had ruined its natural appeal for Burke and Martinez. Somewhere within the trees a crow cawed. Aside from that, the forest offered only silence for the sad affair.
The sound of Martinez’s voice reading from a small Bible pulled Burke back to the sorrowful event. “Sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth. Sing to the Lord, praise his name; proclaim his salvation day after day. Declare his glory among the nations, his marvelous deeds among all peoples.” The big man’s voice choked on the last words. Clearing his throat he said, “Trinny always thought Psalm 23 was overused at funerals. She preferred Psalm 18, at least the first part. It gets kind of violent after that, but she liked it anyway. She wanted the Lord to know how much she praised him, despite what life threw at her.”
Burke hoped he would someday feel that way about God. Right now, he didn’t know how he felt. He no longer doubted God’s existence. After what he had experienced, that wasn’t an option. Still, the love that Dave spoke of was beyond his understanding. How could he love someone who was never around? Burke remembered Laura floating around the house, singing of her love for a God she seemed so familiar with. At the time, he had brushed it off as a woman thing. The whole concept was beyond him.
Movement to his right pulled Burke’s attention away. He caught a glimpse of dark red in the shadows of the trees and started toward it. “What are you doing hiding back here?” he asked as he approached Red.
She was dressed in the same potato bag she had worn every time Burke had seen her. Her carefree demeanor, however, was missing. Sadness seemed to crush her like a massive boulder. Her tiny shoulders sagged and tears ran down her cheeks, leaving white streaks in the dirt.
“It’s my fault,” she said.
Burke stepped closer, wanting to take the girl in his arms to protect her. “What’s your fault? There’s nothing you could have done here, is there?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Then why do you say it’s your fault?”
“I knew Katrina had to die.” Red’s lower lip quivered as she gazed at him with sad green eyes.
Burke reminded himself that Red was no ordinary little girl. “What do you mean you knew she had to die? Why
?”
The girl’s words came in a rush. “You were dying. You needed to fight, but you were dying because you didn’t want to fight. You can’t die!”
“What are you saying, Red? What did you do?”
The girl hung her head, her hair obscuring her face. “The other side can’t kill you, they aren’t allowed. But you were dying anyway. I couldn’t let that happen.” She looked up, her eyes pleading for understanding. “I knew her prayer for you was her purpose, that her life here on Earth could end any time after that. But I still told her to do it.”
Burke allowed this to sink in. “Are you saying you traded Katrina’s life for mine? That I should have died, but she died in my place?” His voice was rising, but he was too livid to care. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
“I couldn’t let you die!”
“And why is that? Why couldn’t you let me die? What’s so special about me?”
She whispered, “I don’t know.”
“A good woman is dead because of you, and you don’t even know why?”
“I’m not told everything. I don’t always know why things are important—just that they are. You have to believe me, I never intended for Katrina to die.” Red raised her face and gazed up at Burke, almost defiantly. “It could have been worse.”
Burke looked at her, open-mouthed. “Worse? Really? Katrina had a husband who loved her. I don’t have anyone. Everyone would have been much better off if you had just let me die.”
“No,” she said. “We would not be better off. Katrina’s death was a reward. She should have gone home long ago, but Father had need of her.”
“Oh, so it’s okay for Katrina to die because she went to heaven, but I wouldn’t have, is that it?” Burke slipped into a bad imitation of a southern preacher. “I would have burned in the fiery pit of hell.”
The girl’s face reddened to a shade almost as deep as her hair, and she looked him straight in the eye. “Yes, you would have.”