There was movement in the trees. The man stood and brought out a large hunting knife. It flashed silver in the moonlight. Henry saw a zombie stumble out from the forest. It was tall and thin, ribs protruding from its skin, like a large hand had come along and bent them in the wrong direction. It wore only a single shoe and the tattered remains of purple briefs. It shuffled into the clearing and stumbled over a tree root, falling to the ground. The undead man reached his arms out to block his fall in some long-embedded instinct of life. His forearm snapped, bones glistening in the moonlight.
The man pushed off of the wall and walked silently toward the zombie. He reached it and kicked it down, holding the zombie there with his boot. The man shoved his knife into the undead man’s head. Henry watched the zombie go from struggling to complete stillness in a matter of seconds. The man turned to walk away when two zombies crashed out of the trees, mere feet from where he stood. They snarled and raced for the man. He struggled with a rifle that was strapped to his back but was unable to free it in time. Turning to run, he raced through a bright shaft of moonlight and Henry saw his face. He had dark skin and dark short-cropped hair; his eyes were wide, showing a lot of white. The expression on his face was pure terror. He raced into the trees and the undead followed. Henry could hear the crashing of their footfalls moving away.
“That was entertaining,” he spoke, looking down at Rocky. Henry smiled and touched the dog’s head.
A scream and a crash brought his attention back to the cabin. The first man that had climbed inside had fallen from the balcony in a spray of blood. He hit the ground hard, cutting him off in mid screech. The man lay supine, reaching his hands into the air where his fingers convulsed uselessly. Blood pooled around his body, from what type of wound Henry couldn’t tell. The ichor looked black beneath the light of the moon.
“All right!” Henry exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air. He accidentally hit the top of the truck. With a muffled curse, he lowered his hand.
Rocky barked and Henry shushed him again.
“Now we just wait for Raven and Liz then we can go. Okay, buddy?”
Rocky wasn’t looking at Henry. His attention was focused on the trees. He barked again.
“What’s wrong, dude?” Henry asked, peering where the dog looked.
He saw it. There was another zombie and it chased something grey and sinuous in and out of the trees. It looked like a young cat.
“Damn it,” Henry spoke, not wanting to see the poor thing eaten if he could stop it. He got out of the truck and raced toward the zombie, knife raised. Rocky followed.
Henry heard a pitiful meow and he broke into a run; Rocky kept pace easily. The tell-tale sounds of growling and inarticulate noises came from just inside the tree line. The cat hissed. Rocky barked and pulled ahead of Henry, reaching the trees first.
“Shit,” Henry said, hurrying to catch the dog. If something happens to him, I may as well never come back, he thought, picturing his sister’s rage.
Ducking beneath a low branch, Henry hurried. The forest floor was soft with years of fallen leaves and pine needles. Henry’s boots made little noise along the ground. He could hear Rocky growling and the cat shrieked. The zombie moaned. Henry glanced back and could no longer see the clearing. He wasn’t sure how far he’d run.
“Jesus,” he spoke, jumping over a fallen log that he could barely see in the reduced light beneath the trees. It was a lucky thing that the moon was full or he’d not be able to see shit in here. Henry chastised himself for leaving his flashlight in the truck.
He zagged around a large redwood and there they were. The zombie was a woman or at least she had been. Now she was just a thing, a deadly it with which he had to reckon. She was short and round, dressed in the tattered remnants of a silk blouse and black slacks. A large chunk of skin was missing from her face and her left shoulder was bare; except for those telling red lines. Wearing only one high heel, the zombie tottered on her feet, reaching for the small grey kitty that sat frozen with fear. Rocky barked and lunged, snapping his massive jaws. He stood far enough away that when the zombie reached for him, she got nothing but air. She made a wet gurgling noise in her throat that made Henry’s stomach feel queasy. Her head turned slowly in his direction and she gnashed her teeth.
“Goodbye bitch,” Henry said and lunged, knife in hand.
He slashed her across the face, peeling away the skin on her forehead and tearing the cartilage of her nose away. Congealed blood and string like veins fell away with the skin, leaving behind torn muscle and glistening bone. Except for her gleaming blue eyes. Those sat untouched in her face.
“Oh, gross,” he spoke and stepped out of her clumsy reach.
The skin from her face hung by her bottom jaw and jiggled whenever she snapped her teeth together. Henry ran behind her and before she could turn and face him, he stabbed her in the back of the skull. His knife sunk in easily through decomposing bone. Grey matter leaked around his blade and he yanked it free in a spray of viscous fluid. The zombie fell to the ground and was still.
Rocky barked and charged the corpse and Henry held him back with
