Valley of Death, Zombie Trailer Park

by William Bebb

  *****

  Issac hummed the theme song to the A-Team as they started down the road into the valley, but as they made a turn on the first switch back he fell silent. With a growing inexplicable sense of unease, he was surprised to hear himself softly reciting the Twenty Third Psalm as they made a turn on the curving road that led down into the trailer park. He had just finished the line, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: For thou art with me-” when he heard a distant scream from somewhere below and said, “Hey, Jeremiah, hold up a second,” and pulled his bike to the side of the dusty road.

  He looked uneasily down the hillside as Jeremiah came over and asked, “What's up?”

  “Did you hear something just a few seconds ago? Might have sounded like a scream?” Issac asked nervously, as he looked back up the road then down at the valley while nervously licking his lips.

  “Nope. But it could easily have been a coyote or something, right?”

  “I grew up in New Hampshire. How would I know what a coyote sounds like?” Issac asked, opening his backpack and sipping some water from a plastic bottle.

  “You must never have watched cowboy movies growing up. No wonder you're so freaked out. I always watched the complete John Wayne collection with my dad growing up. Coyotes howls sound a lot like screams, sometimes, and I bet this valley probably has a pack of them down there.”

  Issac appeared doubtful.

  “Here watch this, I'll show you,” Jeremiah said, getting off his bike and clearing his throat.

  “What are you doing?”

  “If there are coyotes down there they'll howl back, guaranteed. Course, I haven't done a coyote call since I was a Wilderness Scout but I think it goes something like this,” Jeremiah said, tilting his head up and taking a deep breath before unleashing a long deep throaty howl that might have been a good impression of a coyote- but mostly it just sounded like a scream to Issac. Jeremiah coughed and smiled at the end then listened to the answering calls from below.

  Several screams echoed back across the valley in answer, and Jeremiah spread his arms. “See? What did I tell you, it’s just a bunch of coyotes or something like that. Have a little faith. I was a great Wilderness Scout and know all about the Old West. Did I ever tell you who my dad named me after?”

  “I would think probably the Prophet Jeremiah, from the Bible,” Issac said, putting his bottle of water in his backpack and climbing on his bike.

  Jeremiah laughed. “Close, but no cigar. Actually, I used to think that too until one day my dad told me the truth. He showed me a movie called Jeremiah Johnson. It was all about how a guy survived all alone in the wilderness. I remember watching it with him and when the movie was over he asked me what I thought about it.

  I said it was pretty cool. Then he bent over and whispered, so my mom wouldn't hear, I was thinking about this movie when I named you.”

  “Were you upset he named you after a movie?” Issac asked, as they slowly rode their bikes down the road.

  “Nope, I was just glad he didn't name after something like Butch Cassidy or Rocky, another couple of movies he loved to watch with me. I always wondered what it would have been like growing up with the name Rocky- Probably would have gotten into a lot of fights.”

  They coasted to a stop at the last turn going into the valley and saw some cars that were wrecked by the entrance. There didn't seem to be anyone around as they looked at the nearest trailers.

  “Maybe they're all inside watching TV with the air conditioner on,” Jeremiah said hopefully, looking at the birds scattered around the park. “Are those vultures down there?” He asked, pointing at some big birds by one of the trailers.

  “We don't have vultures in New Hampshire either. Lots of pigeons but I'm pretty sure I never saw a vulture there,” Issac said, turning around and looking at the long steep road they had just come down.

  “Still got that bad feeling, don't you? I know I sure do. This place somehow feels wrong. Like I said earlier, it feels like a ghost town or something. I realize this will sound crazy, but I'm more than a little scared and I'm not ashamed to admit it,” Jeremiah said, warily staring at the nearest trailers.

  “Okay, I've got a plan. You stay here and I'll ride down and see if anyone's home. If there's any problem you can-” He broke off his sentence, unable to think of what his young friend could do if there was trouble.

  “No. I'm coming too. I'm just saying we should go slow and quiet before we announce ourselves. Not sneaking,” he quickly added as Issac appeared shocked. “Just go in quiet and see if everything is alright before we start shouting howdy.”

  “Don't be scared, Jeremiah. We are on a mission to spread the Good Word, and I know that whatever happens is God's will. We rode through those public housing projects in Detroit last fall and somehow miraculously managed not to get shot or robbed. We just need to keep the faith, and God will see us through anything. As to shouting howdy, or sneaking, we'll just have to play it by ear.” And with that, Issac started his bike rolling down the hill.

  Jeremiah followed but didn't feel very much like the brave mountain man that he was named after. He also didn't feel like a charismatic A-Team member. In truth, he felt exactly like what he was- a scared teenager.

  Issac rode fast between the two wrecked cars and noticed the downed utility pole as he continued toward a few trailers off to his left. He braked to a stop after spotting a blood splattered, rumpled, white sheet on a picnic table and turned to Jeremiah with a finger raised to his lips.

  They stared wide eyed at the debris of liquor bottles and something they couldn't identify a few yards away. It looked vaguely like a lump of bloody meat being picked at by several big birds, that they both had no doubt were indeed vultures. The stillness was shattered by the creak of one of the car doors they had just ridden past.

  They both turned to look at the fattest man either of them had ever seen and he was naked except for a pair of almost neon pink underwear but that wasn't what made them both gasp in shock. The fat man had a big black bird on top of his bloody head yanking at his torn scalp.

  “Um, Issac what do we-” Jeremiah's question died on his lips as he heard noises coming from the trailer in front of them and saw several bloody men stumble down the stairs walking, then almost trotting, toward them.

  “Follow me!” Issac shouted while turning his bike toward the old house at the far end of the park. “Don't look back, just ride, damn it!”

  Issac didn't need to turn to see if Jeremiah followed because within seconds he passed him.

  They rode hard and fast as screams filled the air that neither of them any longer believed belonged to coyotes.