Back From The Dead

In the five seconds Tim saw them, several things became quickly apparent. The dozens of air fresheners that were hanging from the ceiling gave the interior of the guesthouse a scent of pine that masked a sweet scent of rotting meat. The buzzing of flies gave way to their appearance, both outside the guesthouse and inside, where they buzzed and landed on the two corpses. The faint stains on the floor and walls that could have been dried blood, and the men themselves — both wearing dirty, threadbare clothes, their faces and bodies stained with gore, their skin turning a blue-black color in spots, white in others. They looked blankly at Tim with those dead eyes, fixing him in their stare, holding Tim rooted to his spot at the front door, unable to tear his gaze away until–

Gordon flicked off the light and shut the door with one fluid motion.

Tim could hardly breathe. His fear had returned tenfold now, blossoming through him to create an undeniable urge to make trails and get the hell out of there.

Gordon quickly replaced the key and was at Tim’s side. “Let’s go.” Gordon lightly but firmly urged Tim to turn around and, together, they made their way back the way they came, down the driveway and around to the front of the house. They made it to the car and Tim hunkered down in the front seat as Gordon started the car and did a U turn, heading back down the street and out of the development.

Gordon turned on the headlights as he exited the street and he cast a glance at Tim, who was still trying to get over his shock at what he’d seen. “Believe me now?”

Tim could only nod, still trying to calm himself down. His heart was beating hard, his stomach was doing slow flips in his belly. Trying to calm down was not very easy. What did I just see in there? his mind kept repeating.

“Well?” Gordon asked.

“Well, what?” Tim managed.

“You believe me. You saw the zombies. So now what are we going to do?”

Tim was at a loss for words. What he wanted to do was go to the police, but he knew if he voiced that opinion now, Gordon would do something. If Gordon was capable of participating in murder, even if he never laid a hand on the guys in that guest house but merely aided and abetted, he would be capable of keeping this a secret at all costs.

“You’ve got to have some kind of idea on how to stop this,” Gordon said. They were heading out of the development, making their way toward Route 501, which would take them to Broad Street.

“I don’t,” Tim said.

“You saw them, though. You believe me now, don’t you?”

“Oh, I believe you all right,” Tim said. Gordon sounded nervous and he had to placate him, assure him he was trying to think of a solution. “I just…let me think about it for a minute.”

They drove in silence for a while. Tim looked out the window, his mind racing, turning everything over. He had no idea what to do short of going to the police. He didn’t know a thing about black magic or Wicca other than what he’d read in a few books. He wasn’t a practicing witch or warlock despite what Gordon and his moron friends thought, and he was half tempted to simply not do anything but let Gordon suffer for his actions. If he was stupid enough to go messing around with things he didn’t know about, he deserved what was happening to him.

At the same time he couldn’t allow Scott, Dave, and Steve to continue kidnapping and murdering homeless people, much less turn them into zombies. Gordon was right…this had to stop. But at the same time, Gordon and his friends had to pay for what they’d done.

As if he’d read Tim’s thoughts, Gordon issued another threat. “No police. If you tell the police, I’ll not only make things worse for you, I’ll make things worse for Chelsea.”

Tim looked at Gordon, his heart lodged in his throat. “What?”

Gordon cocked a grin at Tim. “Didn’t realize I knew about the two of you, huh? I saw you guys sniffing around each other the last few weeks of school. I heard you went out with her last week, too.”

“Just…take me home,” Tim said, turning away from Gordon. “I’ll figure something out.”

“You better. Because if you don’t, Chelsea might end up as meat for the zombies.”

Tim glared at Gordon. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

The anger Tim felt at the threat directed to Chelsea was enormous. It almost eclipsed his rational side, making him want to lash out and bash Gordon’s face in. He reined it in, turned away and looked out the window as Gordon drove north on 501.

“I’ll call you tomorrow morning to hear your plan,” Gordon said. The street was deserted as they passed the Red Rose Shopping center on the left and went up the hill that would take them down into Spring Valley. “I can keep Scott and the guys occupied tomorrow. That should give you time to come up with a spell to make all this stop.”

Damn, he’s stupid, Tim thought. It was obvious Gordon wasn’t taking no for an answer, that he either didn’t care that Tim’s knowledge of the occult was limited or didn’t want to believe it. He’s depending on me to get him out of the mess he created. And if I don’t do it he’s going to hurt Chelsea.

“If those zombies aren’t dead — as in reduced back to the corpses they once were — by the next day, the police will be getting that anonymous call,” Gordon said. “Don’t bother digging up that garden for the rest of those bones, either. I hid them real well. You won’t find them. And if you call the cops I’ll not only deny everything and tell them where those other remains are, I’ll feed your girlfriend to the zombies.” Gordon regarded Tim calmly. “Are we clear?”

“Yeah,” Tim said.

“Good. Because — ”

From behind them came the brief whoop of a police siren, accompanied by swirling blue and red lights.

“Shit!” Gordon cast a quick glance in the rearview mirror, then turned to Tim. “If you so much as say one word about this to that cop, I’ll make sure Steve and Dave get Chelsea. You got me?”

Tim nodded, his brief fear over the sudden arrival of the police car giving way to momentary relief.

The police car whooped again behind them and Gordon pulled to the curb. “Keep your mouth shut,” he said to Tim. “Don’t say anything about what we were doing tonight. If they ask you, just tell them you and I were driving around talking.”

“We were trying to air out our differences,” Tim said, the ruse coming quickly.

“Right! We were just trying to air out our differences. They’ll believe that.” Gordon glanced in the rearview mirror, straightened up in the driver’s seat. He reached for his wallet and rolled his window down. “Remember what I said would happen to Chelsea if you tell them anything.”

“Yeah,” Tim said, his heart racing, not knowing what to do now that the cop was approaching the vehicle from the driver’s side, only knowing that he had to do something to stop this madness and do whatever he could to protect Chelsea and his family.

Chapter Eighteen

When the police officer approached the vehicle, Gordon put on his best smile. “Hey officer.”

A flashlight shined in the interior of the car. When its beam hit Tim’s eyes, he squinted at the sudden intrusion of light. He didn’t recognize the officer at first. It wasn’t until he spoke that Tim placed him. It was Officer Frank Clapton. “Mr. Gaines! What are you doing with Mr. Smith at 2:30 in the morning?”

“I can explain,” Gordon said.

“I think I’d rather hear this from Mr. Gaines, if you don’t mind.” Officer Clapton stepped toward the front of the vehicle and motioned for the boys to step out of the car by wiggling his fingers. “Exit the vehicle, boys. Let’s talk.”

Gordon cast one last look at Tim that said, don’t try anything you and Chelsea are going to regret. Then they stepped out of the car and joined Officer Clapton on the sidewalk.

“Care to tell me what you’re doing driving around town past curfew?” Officer Clapton asked.