eternal shushing of the waves lapping the shoreline.
Singer shifted again, bringing one knee up, and leaned to put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “There’s nothing there,” he whispered. “Come on, let’s–” A sharp, searing pain burned into his calf.
Reflexively, Singer threw himself forward into the clearing, bellowing. Steve looked back just in time to see the black pine snake that Singer must have kneeled or stepped on slide away in the other direction.
It was gone in a second.
Singer rolled, still bellowing, grabbing for his calf and Jade jumped up. “Singer!” Her voice rang out, a panicked and breaking bell, as she watched her brother writhe in pain.
Steve threw himself toward Singer.
“Listen to me,” he whispered, trying to grab Singer’s terrified face in his hands. “It was a snake, just a snake, please calm down, it was just–”
Behind him, Jade continued to scream. Dave grabbed her from behind, putting a hand over her mouth as his eyes went wildly to the cabins. She panicked and bit his hand. He jumped back, hissing and Jade stumbled away from him, panting in harsh little bursts.
A low, sighing moan froze them all into stasis. The sound could almost have been the wind, passing through tree branches, but they all knew better. They’d all heard that sound, so distinctly and disturbingly human, and yet not…it was the sound of the living dead.
Brian, who had been the last to react to Singer’s screams, stood in the scrub and bushes, frozen with shock. Then he saw a shadow the seemed to coalesce from the deeper shadow between the two closest cabins…the undead had found them.
“Guys, guys it’s…” His voice was breathy, shaking. “It’s one of them…a sinker.” He pointed, unable to take his eyes from the shuffling horror that had now come fully into the moonlight of the clearing.
It was, or had been, a kid…maybe six or seven. A little boy in footie pajamas detailed with red, cartoon cars. One of his arms was gone, but the shoulder under the flannel bunched and rotated in imitation of the arm that had risen, grasping. The boy’s face was gray and beginning to peel at his hairline.
One of its eyes was gone.
Its mouth hung open and the curious breath of unlife coursed over its spongy, rotting vocal chords. It was less than twenty feet from Singer and Steve.
Steve saw the boy and stood, pulling singer with him. “Get to the boats,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper, and shoved Singer in the direction of the beach.
But Singer only turned in a half circle, favoring his leg, and saw the undead boy. He felt a crazy free fall of fear in his stomach and searched automatically for his sister. She stood next to Dave. They both stared at the boy and her hands were laced over her mouth. Her eyes were large and swimming with panicked tears.
Brian was still standing a few feet back in the woods.
Another shadow lurched to life from between the cabins.
And then another.
Now there were three corpses between them and the beach.
Now five.
Steve felt the cold cloak of decision-making descend, washing away the panic. He turned to the others, his voice a harsh and commanding whisper sawing through the dark.
“Run!”
That broke everyone’s paralysis. They all ran, dodging the sludgily moving dead whose numbers were growing at an alarming rate. Steve broke left and Dave followed while Singer and Jade ran shoulder to shoulder between another set of cabins with Brian not far behind.
The sighing moan became louder, a chorus of rot and ruin, of despair so great that it existed even without the consciousness of those souls in despair. They sighed with both hunger and longing, some deep primal need encouraging them to possess what they now lacked.
At least half were children.
The children and caretakers of children had not fared well in the plague that had decimated the world.
They were past the cabins and across the highway and Steve felt a triumphant lift that pumped his legs
Singer shifted again, bringing one knee up, and leaned to put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “There’s nothing there,” he whispered. “Come on, let’s–” A sharp, searing pain burned into his calf.
Reflexively, Singer threw himself forward into the clearing, bellowing. Steve looked back just in time to see the black pine snake that Singer must have kneeled or stepped on slide away in the other direction.
It was gone in a second.
Singer rolled, still bellowing, grabbing for his calf and Jade jumped up. “Singer!” Her voice rang out, a panicked and breaking bell, as she watched her brother writhe in pain.
Steve threw himself toward Singer.
“Listen to me,” he whispered, trying to grab Singer’s terrified face in his hands. “It was a snake, just a snake, please calm down, it was just–”
Behind him, Jade continued to scream. Dave grabbed her from behind, putting a hand over her mouth as his eyes went wildly to the cabins. She panicked and bit his hand. He jumped back, hissing and Jade stumbled away from him, panting in harsh little bursts.
A low, sighing moan froze them all into stasis. The sound could almost have been the wind, passing through tree branches, but they all knew better. They’d all heard that sound, so distinctly and disturbingly human, and yet not…it was the sound of the living dead.
Brian, who had been the last to react to Singer’s screams, stood in the scrub and bushes, frozen with shock. Then he saw a shadow the seemed to coalesce from the deeper shadow between the two closest cabins…the undead had found them.
“Guys, guys it’s…” His voice was breathy, shaking. “It’s one of them…a sinker.” He pointed, unable to take his eyes from the shuffling horror that had now come fully into the moonlight of the clearing.
It was, or had been, a kid…maybe six or seven. A little boy in footie pajamas detailed with red, cartoon cars. One of his arms was gone, but the shoulder under the flannel bunched and rotated in imitation of the arm that had risen, grasping. The boy’s face was gray and beginning to peel at his hairline.
One of its eyes was gone.
Its mouth hung open and the curious breath of unlife coursed over its spongy, rotting vocal chords. It was less than twenty feet from Singer and Steve.
Steve saw the boy and stood, pulling singer with him. “Get to the boats,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper, and shoved Singer in the direction of the beach.
But Singer only turned in a half circle, favoring his leg, and saw the undead boy. He felt a crazy free fall of fear in his stomach and searched automatically for his sister. She stood next to Dave. They both stared at the boy and her hands were laced over her mouth. Her eyes were large and swimming with panicked tears.
Brian was still standing a few feet back in the woods.
Another shadow lurched to life from between the cabins.
And then another.
Now there were three corpses between them and the beach.
Now five.
Steve felt the cold cloak of decision-making descend, washing away the panic. He turned to the others, his voice a harsh and commanding whisper sawing through the dark.
“Run!”
That broke everyone’s paralysis. They all ran, dodging the sludgily moving dead whose numbers were growing at an alarming rate. Steve broke left and Dave followed while Singer and Jade ran shoulder to shoulder between another set of cabins with Brian not far behind.
The sighing moan became louder, a chorus of rot and ruin, of despair so great that it existed even without the consciousness of those souls in despair. They sighed with both hunger and longing, some deep primal need encouraging them to possess what they now lacked.
At least half were children.
The children and caretakers of children had not fared well in the plague that had decimated the world.
They were past the cabins and across the highway and Steve felt a triumphant lift that pumped his legs
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