Back From The Dead

target — a young Amish man on a bicycle. As they drove by, Scott leaned out the car window and pushed the man down. They’d sped away, sputtering laughter. They’d done the same thing to a pair of female Amish sect members, also on bikes. This time Scott had pushed one down, causing her to topple into her friend, knocking them both to the ground in a tangle of Amishflesh, blue ankle-length dresses and bicycles. They’d laughed all the way home.

There’d been no witnesses to what they’d done. The incidents had even received mention in the local paper the next day.

In a way that’s what started it all.

Scott had wanted to go cruising for some bum-bashing ever since. The uproar over the assaults on the three Amish had been loud in the local media, and for a brief time David was afraid the cops would come knocking on his door. Fortunately for them, their victims had been unable to provide accurate descriptions and the authorities never came poking around. Besides, they had a clear alibi. David was at Scott’s house that day watching movies all night with Rebecca and Gordon. Scott’s parents had seen them when they left earlier that evening for a shindig at some fancy Country Club. They’d still been there when they came home, shortly before midnight. Besides, all four were at the top of their class academically and socially, and they were involved in various youth groups at their local churches. Scott was even President of an off campus Spring Valley High School Students for Christ social club that met every Wednesday in the basement of the Grace Baptist church on Main Street.

They’d remained on the straight and narrow ever since they’d gotten into trouble by beating up the Gaines kid.

Or so everybody seemed to think.

“Okay…I see what you mean,” Scott said. He was leaning against the opposite counter where his mother prepared the occasional meal. “It’s still gonna be my ass in a sling if we get caught.”

“If you’re afraid of getting caught, let’s kill him now.” David was slightly taken aback the minute that was out of his mouth. Had he just said that? Yes, he had.

“Nah, I don’t want to kill him now,” Scott said. “It’s gotta be like we planned it. I mean, what fun is offing him real quick? That’s why we got him in the first place, right?”

“Right.”

“And we got tired of driving out of the area to other neighborhoods and picking fights with other guys, right?”

“You got that right.” Ever since that incident involving the Amish, he and Scott, occasionally joined by Gordon and Steve, in various vehicles, had ventured out of Lancaster County to pick fights with people. It didn’t matter who — some guy taking out the trash, a pedestrian in a quiet section of town. If it looked like they could take him, the guys would jump out and pound the shit out of him for as long as possible, then get the hell out of there. The first three times they’d set off on random beatings like this they’d stomped the shit out of four different guys. Last time, though, they met their match. Some skinny little fuck with glasses they set upon turned out to be a martial arts expert. They got the hell out of there before serious damage was done to their respective selves.

“So we’re safe,” Scott said. “That homeless guy is so fucked up he ain’t gonna be in any condition to scream or run. My parents never venture out there, and what we’re doing is staying between us. We’ll be fine.”

Steve nodded. He looked at Scott, realization dawning in him. “Only thing is…what do we do after he’s dead and buried? What then? Get another one?”

Scott frowned. “Damn, you’re right. You got a good point there.”

Chapter Three

Tim Gaines couldn’t have wished for a better evening.

George and Al picked him up shortly after 5:30 and they made it to the theater fifteen minutes before the movie started. The Spring Valley Main Theater was packed. Located just across from a small commercial airport, the theater housed eight screens, all of them running first-rate features. Hostel 3 was nearly sold out. Surprising, considering the relatively conservative nature of the population of Spring Valley.

The three boys cringed in the appropriate moments of the film and laughed during those moments of humor. When the movie was over they walked out of the lobby into a relatively comfortable late Spring evening. There was already a large crowd arriving for the late show, including several kids from Spring Valley High School. Most of them Tim recognized.

George nodded at a couple of familiar faces that said hello to him as he and Al talked about the movie. As they stepped into the parking lot, George turned to them. “You guys hungry?”

“Hell yeah!” Al said.

“Freeze and Frizz!” Tim chanted.

They piled into George’s car, an old four door Saturn, and were at Freeze and Frizz ordering hamburgers, hotdogs, French fries, and sodas within fifteen minutes. Freeze and Frizz was a local mainstay in Spring Valley. Located just off Route 501, it was a family-owned hamburger joint that served great food: hamburgers, hotdogs, steak sandwiches, onion rings and fries — and the best chocolate milk shakes in the universe. The place did booming business in the summer thanks to a combination of its food and atmosphere. It sported plenty of indoor booths, a large grassy area with picnic benches, and a playground for the kids. With the completion of the Main Theater down the street, business was booming more than ever.

They took their food to one of the picnic tables outside. Al had already staked a claim on one of them, and as they sat down and divided up the food, George asked Tim why he thought Eli Roth was over-rated as a director. “I think he’s good,” Tim said, biting into his hamburger. “I like his stuff, don’t get me wrong. Most people either love him or hate him. I thought Cabin Fever was awesome, and the first Hostel definitely had its moments.”

“The scariest thing about the first Hostel film was the Elite Hunt club,” Al said. He dipped his French fries in catsup and chowed down.

“Oh, those guys were the essence of the movie!” Tim said. “I’m really glad he got more into how they operate in the sequel. If you ask me, Hostel 2 was ten times better than the first one.”

George was watching him. “You really love horror movies, don’t you?”

Tim felt suddenly embarrassed. He took a bite of his hamburger, not knowing how to respond, when George smiled. “I dig ‘em too.”

“No shit, me too!” Al said. He took a slurp of his orange soda. “Horror movies, graphic novels, comics — ”

“Novels,” George said, nodding.

Tim grinned. The vibe he got from George and Al was that they were sincere. For the first time Tim felt like he was on the verge of finding real friends in Al and George.

“Hey guys, what’s up?”

The three boys turned at the sound of the voice. Tim felt his elation drop a notch. Gordon Smith and Steve Miller were ambling over. With them were Rebecca Watkins and Susan Snow. Rebecca was Scott Bradfield’s girlfriend, and as far as Tim knew, Susan wasn’t dating anybody. Rebecca tended to hang out with Scott’s friends whenever his old nemesis was occupied elsewhere. Susan was probably tagging along because she was Rebecca’s best friend.

Gordon, Steve and the girls stopped by the table and Gordon sat down beside Tim. “You guys go to the movies?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,” Al said. He and George were nodding at them, exchanging grins.

“See Hostel 3?” Gordon asked.

“You better believe it,” George said. He had wolfed down all of his fries. “That is one mean movie.”

There was laughter all around. Tim felt like he was in the spotlight. Susan sat down across from him, making small talk with Rebecca, who was standing close by. Gordon nudged Tim. “So tell me about that book you were reading the other day. The zombie book.”

“You’re reading a zombie book?” Al asked, the interest obvious in his features.

“Yeah,” Tim said.