“Keep trying to convince yourself, man. D.C. isn’t picking up and all your contacts have gone silent.” He turned on the radio and switched channels. Some had music while others had nothing but static. One was a warning tone signal and the tiny hairs on his arm rose.
TWO
Xander moved carefully toward the delivery truck, his head on a swivel. He looked around, but saw no one and heard nothing but the birds that inhabited the surrounding trees. He noted the blood from the body was congealed, perhaps a few hours old. He noticed that Zahara was just as careful and she was looking around and behind. There were no houses near, only standing forest along the highway, it was an isolated stretch of road. The birds in the forest quieted, Xander glanced at his watch. It was nearly ten. There were no other cars on the road and he thought that was odd as well. In fact, he’d not seen another vehicle on the road since they left his cabin. The hairs rose on his arms, that thought niggled him and sent off warning bells in his brain.
“Is it just me or have you seen any other cars since we left the cabin?” he asked, edging closer to the body in the truck.
“Now that you mention it, no. Just those two cars, back a ways, that were half sitting in the road. I didn’t see anyone. It’s Wednesday, so I’m pretty sure people should be out and about. Did we miss something while we were at the cabin?” she asked.
“Beats the hell out of me,” he said in a low voice, his internal alarm bells ringing louder.
“Should I check my phone?” she asked, coming up beside him.
“No, I can check mine. You’ll be pinged if you do. Mine isn’t registered,” he said. They looked at the body of the man laying inside. He lay across the gears and it appeared as though he’d been gutted. There were dull gray and purple coils of intestines spilling from the man’s shirt. One hand hung to the floor; it was nearly purple with settled blood. The rest of the arm was pasty white, where the blood had drained into the hand. There was a clear bite mark on the man’s arm and to Xander, it appeared as though it were a human bite mark.
“What in the hell happened here?” Zahara asked softly, tippy toeing up, to get a better look. She stood just at the edge of the viscous blood pool.
“Not sure, but check out the bite mark on the guy’s arm,” he said and pulled her sideways, so she could get a better look.
“Damn, that’s a human bite. Did someone try to rob him? Why aren’t there any police? It’s pretty clear he’s been here a while,” she muttered, as she craned her neck for a better look. They both jumped when a moan came from the body.
“Gas escaping from the body,” Xander said, grinning sheepishly. Zahara snorted, her face pinkening.
“Yeah, I got that.” She grinned nervously and she looked around them, he did as well. Nothing, no other sounds or movements. They turned back to see the dead man rise up and Zahara gave a high squeak and grabbed Xander’s arm.
“What the fuck!?” she whispered, her nails digging into his arm.
“He’s dead, but damn, look at his eyes,” he said and pointed. The man’s face was leached of color and the eyes were fixed and dilated. So much so that Xander couldn’t see the iris, only the blown pupils. There was no emotion, facial animation, nor any indications the man was in pain.
“What the hell? Is he dead or alive?”
“He’s dead, look at the lividity in his hand, that blood has settled and he’s been gutted,” he said not taking his eyes off the dead man, the clear evidence before them gave his statement some verisimilitude.
“What the freak, are we talking zombie?” she muttered and looked at him. For the first time, Xander saw just the tiniest hint of fear in the green depths. That shook him. Agent Zed was absolutely fearless. He was about to speak when the dead man shifted. He looked back to see both of the arms extended and the bloody fingers curled into claws. The man opened his mouth and a guttural snarl came out of his mouth. His dead eyes were pointed at them and his face contorted into animalistic rage. Xander placed his hand on Zahara’s arm and pulled her back a step.
“I’d call you a liar, but damnit… I think you’re right and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think he’s a damned zombie,” he said with open mouthed incredulity. Clearly, he was dreaming or in some kind of nightmare. He was startled when Zahara slapped him across the face. It wasn’t hard or painful, just startling.
“Why in the hell did you hit me?”
“I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t sleeping,” she said, scrutinizing him.
“Then why hit me? Why not smack yourself?” he asked with no
