Serial Killer Z: Volume One

by Philip Harris

  A hand hung from the door.

  It had been hacked off just above the wrist, leaving a few tattered shreds of flesh hanging from exposed bone. By the look of the ragged nails and gray skin, it had recently belonged to a zombie. A single nail hammered through the palm attached it to the door.

  Alex squinted at it. “What the…?”

  Mike’s lips were drawn into a tight thin line. Lucy was standing next to him. The shadow could feel the anger radiating off her.

  I made an educated guess. “This has something to do with the person you’ve been watching out for.”

  Surprise flickered across Lucy’s face. “How—”

  A sound like a screaming, chattering monkey cut her off. It came from somewhere in the forest behind us. When I looked, I saw a man standing in the shadows.

  Lucy set off toward him. “Charles!”

  “Lucy, wait!” Mike said. He tried to grab her, but she twisted away from him and was gone.

  The figure stepped out of the forest.

  Lucy slid to a stop. “No!”

  It was a zombie.

  Two more shapes loomed up out of the shadows behind it. Their shuffling, uneven movements marked them as zombies, too.

  Lucy pulled out her knife.

  One zombie moaned and reached toward her. His right hand was missing.

  Lucy let out a scream of frustration and charged at him. Mike brushed past me as he ran toward her. She collided with the zombie, and he fell backward, but she stayed on her feet. She was already kicking him before he hit the ground. Her boot hit his thigh then his ribs. Bones cracked. She raised her foot and slammed it down on the zombie’s face. His skull shattered. Blood and brain sprayed across the ground.

  “Look out!” Mike said.

  One of the other zombies had reached Lucy. She ducked under his clumsy grab for her and swung her knife upward into his jaw. His head was forced back. Black blood poured over Lucy’s hand. She yanked the knife free, and the zombie crumpled to the ground.

  Mike reached her, but she waved him away. “It’s mine.”

  The last zombie was slower. Lucy lowered herself into a fighter’s stance. The zombie staggered toward her.

  She screamed at him. “Come on!”

  The zombie responded with a wet, gargling sound as though he was trying to speak. Lucy leaped forward and drove the knife into his forehead. He staggered back, and the movement pulled the weapon from her hand. She slammed her hands against his chest, and he toppled backward, landing with a dull thump. Lucy wiped her hands on the zombie’s shirt and then tugged the knife free from his skull.

  She straightened up and looked out into the trees. “This has gone far enough, Charles! Leave us the hell alone!”

  When she turned back toward the lodge, her face was stony. There was a splash of black fluid across her chin. Mike tried to touch her shoulder as she passed, but she shrugged him away.

  Alex and I stepped aside. She strode past and ripped the hand from the door. Then she turned and hurled it away into the forest before storming into the lodge.

  Mike appeared beside us. His face was filled with concern.

  “You need to tell me what’s happening,” I said.

  He nodded. “I’ll explain inside.”

  Chapter 25

  Slices of the Past

  Mike sat on the edge of couch, his hands clasped together, forefingers tapping his lips. Lucy was beside him, staring at the fireplace. Even in the dim, early-morning light, she looked pale. The anger I’d seen outside had dissipated. Now she just looked exceptionally tired. The zombie’s blood was still spattered across her chin. I’d taken one of the armchairs, and Alex sat in the other. We were all waiting for Mike to speak.

  Eventually, he lowered his hands and looked me in the eye. “You’re right. We have been watching out for someone. His name’s Charles. He used to be part of the group.” He glanced toward Lucy. “But there was a difference of opinion when it came to who made the decisions.”

  “Between you and him?”

  Mike nodded. “The plague had taken its toll on him. He became… unstable.”

  Alex let out a snort. “That’s an understatement.”

  Lucy glared at him. “It’s not his fault.”

  “I’m sorry,” Alex said, raising his hands.

  Mike rested a hand on Lucy’s knee, and she relaxed a little.

  “Five days ago, things came to a head. We argued, and he lost his temper. He came at me with a knife. I disarmed him, and I thought I had things under control. I didn’t. He sucker-punched me.”

  “That’s how you got hurt, both of you,” I said, gesturing toward Alex.

  “Yes. He knocked me over, and I hit my head on a rock. Alex grazed his knuckles trying to stop him.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “He ran,” Lucy said. “We thought he’d gone south, so we went north, but that night, we heard… sounds. They were just barks and screeches, things like that. We thought it might be the sound of animals in the forest, but the next day, the noises followed us as we moved.”

  “Had you heard them since you got here?”

  Lucy shook her head.

  “But you knew he was out there?”

  “Not for sure, no.”

  I rubbed my forehead, trying to ease the pressure that was building there. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She grimaced. “We needed shelter. I was afraid that if I told you about Charles, you’d make us leave. Mike might have died if we hadn’t stayed here.”

  Lucy was right: I wouldn’t have let them stay. I had to admit, under the circumstances I would have probably done the same as her. But they didn’t need to know that. The rules had changed, and I had a good reason for them to leave. I was about to tell them that when a sound from outside interrupted me.

  It was a man. The words were unintelligible at first then coalesced into fragments and finally sentences. He wanted everyone to come outside—before he burned the lodge down.

  Chapter 26

  Charles

  Mike and Lucy ran to the window.

  “It’s Charles,” Mike said.

  “Aw, crap,” Alex said. “I’ll find the rifle.”

  Alex ran toward the kitchen. I joined Mike and Lucy.

  A man in dirty jeans and a worn denim jacket stood at the edge of the camp, close to the path leading to the river. He was holding a flaming torch, the flickering yellow light illuminating his face and sending shadows dancing across the forest behind him. I couldn’t see him well, but from here, he looked pretty normal. But then again, so did I.

  “What’s he doing?” I said.

  Mike shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  Charles took a few steps forward, sweeping the torch in front of him. “Come on, Lucy. I’m losing my patience.” He spat Lucy’s name, the words punctuated with anger.

  “We need to go out there,” Lucy said.

  “No!” Mike said.

  Charles moved farther into the camp, swinging the flaming torch around his head. “I’m going to count to five. Then this little love nest of yours goes up in flames.”

  Lucy moved to go outside, but Mike put his hand on her shoulder. “Luce…”

  She pulled away from him, eyes blazing. “This is my fault; I’ll deal with it.” She turned and opened the door.

  “Lucy!” Mike said. He followed her outside.

  She walked out of the lodge, arms wide. “Okay, Charles, I’m here now.”

  Charles lowered the torch. But when he spoke, he was still angry. “Thank you.”

  Lucy stopped a few feet away from the front of the lodge.

  When Mike appeared, Charles raised the torch again, pointing it at him. The flames flickered and sputtered, and a few drops of fire tumbled from the torch’s tip onto the ground.

  When Charles spoke, his voice was laden with contempt. “And here’s your true love.”

  Mike put his hands out, palms raised toward Charles. “We don’t want any trouble.”r />
  There was no sign of Alex, but if I could find the rifle, then maybe I could shoot Charles while he was distracted. I dismissed the idea immediately—I was as likely to hit myself as him.

  Then again, his arrival might be a good thing. Maybe he’d solve my problem for me.

  “What do you want, Charles?” Lucy said.

  “You know what I want, Lucy.”

  She ran her hands through her hair. “I’m sorry, I can’t give you that.”

  His voice rose in pitch. “So, you thought you’d kill me instead! Is that it?”

  “We’re not trying to hurt you! You’re like a brother to me.”

  Charles paced left and right, an unpredictable bundle of nervous energy. “You expect me to believe that?”

  “You’re the one following us,” Mike said. “You can go anywhere you like; we’d never find you.”

  Charles tapped his forehead, his face contorted in anger. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Trying to trick me.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. Its back was stained red. Blood.

  “Charles…” Lucy said. “What did you do to your hand?”

  Charles held his hand up in front of his face. He tilted his head to one side and turned his hand around, examining it. As he lowered it again, he grinned and shrugged.

  “Charles, what happened?” Lucy said.

  He shrugged again.

  “Tell us!” Mike said. He started forward.

  Charles reached behind his back, and when he brought it out again, he was holding a pistol. The gun hung limply in his hand as he waved it in Mike’s general direction. “Don’t.”

  Any temptation to let events play out deserted me. Yes, Charles might have taken care of the intruders, but then I’d have been left to deal with him. There was only room for one mentally unstable person in Camp Redfern.

  I ran through the dining room and out into the clearing at the back of the lodge. I turned left and ran around the building. I could hear Charles shouting at Lucy and Mike. His voice was getting louder, more aggressive. If he really was going to shoot someone or burn the camp down, he’d do it soon.

  Staying low, I ran across the gap between the lodge and Cabin Two and then made my way to the front of the building. I peeked my head around the corner. Charles had moved forward into the camp, forcing Lucy and Mike back up to the walkway. He was still brandishing the gun, waving it around, his finger on the trigger.

  Mike had his hands out in front of him. He was trying to calm Charles down. “Look, why don’t you put the gun away. You can come inside; we have food.”

  Charles jerked the gun toward Mike. “Yeah, why don’t I do that. Then you can poison me.”

  Lucy flinched. “Please,” she said, her voice filled with anguish.

  I slipped the knife from its sheath and tried to gauge how long it would take me to get to Charles and whether it would be enough time for him to turn around and shoot me. Mike and Lucy were still focused on him and hadn’t noticed me.

  “No! You come with me, and lover boy here can go.”

  “She’s staying right here,” Mike said.

  Lucy turned to him, but he shook his head.

  Charles settled the gun on Mike, his aim suddenly rock solid. “I won’t ask again.”

  There was movement on the opposite side of the lodge. It was Alex, and he was carrying the rifle. He raised it hesitantly to his shoulder and stepped out from behind the building. Before he could speak, Charles saw him and fired.

  I ran at Charles. He fired toward the lodge. Lucy dodged into the cabin, wood exploding above her head. Mike ducked then ran toward Charles, who let off another shot, this one shattering the lodge’s window.

  I reached Charles, the knife held out in front of me. I collided with him, sending us both to the ground. The knife met resistance, and something warm and wet flooded over my hand. Charles screamed and swept the butt of his gun toward my head. It caught my shoulder, sending a jarring pain down my arm.

  I leaned on the knife, pushing past the resistance. Charles screamed again. I felt the cold metal of the gun’s barrel pressed against my head and realized, too late, that I’d made a terrible mistake.

  The shot never came.

  Instead, Mike’s heavy boot stamped down on Charles’s arm, snapping it. I pulled the knife out of Charles’s stomach and swung it toward his neck. It sank into the soft flesh. Blood sprayed across the dusty ground. I leaned into the blade, driving it deeper. Energy flowed through me as the shadow burst to life.

  Barely conscious of what I was doing, I twisted the knife and pulled, tearing it free of Charles’s throat. His head rolled back. I brought the knife down, plunging it into his chest. Again and again, I struck. Blood spattered my hands, my chest, my face. The shadow screamed with joy, its excitement sending power coursing through my veins.

  Eventually, I slowed my attack then stopped. My heart pounding in my head, I stood. I towered over Charles, staring down at his mutilated body, the knife clenched in my hand. Blood dripped from the blade’s tip, falling in slow motion to spatter the ground at my feet. More blood pooled around the body, a vibrant crimson lake.

  The shadow sang to me.

  Chapter 27

  After the Kill

  I slowly became aware of the screaming. Just a whisper at first, tickling the periphery of my senses. A gnat buzzing in my ear. As my breathing slowed, and my heart along with it, the noise grew louder. It was joined by another sound, words that somehow I knew but couldn’t pin a meaning to. And then someone touched my shoulder, and the world came rushing back.

  Lucy was screaming.

  Mike was holding her, pushing her shuddering form away from Charles’s body. Away from me.

  Alex was standing beside me, his hand gripping my shoulder. He was unhurt. Charles’s shot had gone wide.

  “What the hell?” Alex said. “What did you do?”

  I turned toward him and raised the knife. A trickle of scarlet ran down my wrist.

  Alex grabbed his mouth and whirled around. He made it a couple of steps before he lost control. Bending over, arms wrapped around his stomach, he threw up.

  “Lucy! Get inside, now,” Mike said.

  He was trying to push her toward the lodge, but she twisted against his grip. She kept shaking her head and saying, “He’s not dead, he’s not dead!” as though repeating the words would make it true.

  Mike looked over his shoulder at me. His eyes were cold and filled with suspicion. The shadow retreated, returning to the depths of my psyche now that its work was done.

  “Alex! Get over here,” Mike said.

  Alex raised his hand and spat a fresh gobbet of vomit onto the ground. I went to move toward the lodge, but Mike pointed at me. “No, Marcus. You stay right there. Don’t take one step, or so help me God, I’ll make you regret it.”

  I nodded as though I understood where the rage was coming from and why Lucy cared so much about the death of a man who until a few seconds ago had been trying to shoot her. I contented myself with wiping the knife on the ground. All I managed to do was coat the blood-soaked blade with a layer of fine brown dust. I used the leg of Charles’s jeans instead.

  Alex walked past me toward the lodge. Vomit flecked the front of his T-shirt. His eyes were filled with distrust. Together, Mike and Alex managed to quiet Lucy and get her inside.

  When Mike came back out of the lodge, he was carrying Charles’s gun. He held it loosely by his side, but the message was clear. I slipped my knife back into its sheath.

  “You okay?” Mike said. His tone was quiet, tense.

  “A few bumps and bruises but otherwise, yeah. I’m fine.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  He stopped a few feet away from me, too far away for me to get to him before he could shoot me.

  “What do you mean?”

  Mike waved the gun toward the body at my feet. “It seemed like you got caught up in the moment there.”

  I looked down at Charles, t
he ragged slash of blood and flesh where his throat had been, the scarlet mass of tissue that was all that remained of his chest. I felt more alive than I had for months.

  “I… had to stop him.” I tried to lace the words with remorse but couldn’t.

  Mike shook his head. “There was more to it than that. There’s more to you than that.”

  I looked at him and shrugged. “I don’t know what to say, Mike. I was trying to stop him from killing you. Or Lucy. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  His eyes narrowed, but whatever he was about to say was interrupted by the lodge door bursting open. Lucy stormed out, Alex close behind.

  “Just let me go,” she said.

  When she saw Charles’s body again she clamped a hand over her mouth and turned aside. She half walked, half ran across the campsite onto the path leading to the river.

  Alex moved to follow her, but Mike stopped him. “She needs some time.”

  Alex’s gaze moved to the body. “Yeah, yeah…”

  I watched Lucy until she disappeared out of sight then turned back to Mike. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Mike stared at me for what felt like minutes before he answered.

  “We met Lucy and Charles four days after we left Seattle. They’d seen… a lot of bad stuff. Really bad stuff. Lucy never talks about it, but whatever happened, Charles felt he was responsible. He said he needed to redeem himself and became obsessed with finding a way to make it up to her. They’d been friends for years, but he was in love with her.

  “As we traveled, Lucy and I became increasingly close. Charles confessed his own feelings to her, but she didn’t feel the same way. After she told him, he became sullen and withdrawn. Eventually, he turned on me.

  “He accused me of working behind his back to turn Lucy against him. We argued for days. The tension in the group became almost unbearable. He got more and more paranoid. Eventually, he decided I was trying to kill him. I tried to reason with him, but he attacked me, and we fought. You know the rest.”