the worms appreciated all this work.
On the other hand, the amount of work he'd put in on Nate had tired him. And considering Nate had about as many friends as a ground rattler, he should have just stuck him in the box and got him buried before he bloated.
Looking at Nolan lying there on his slab, he decided that was exactly what he was going to do with this one. Neither were exactly the sort that drew mourners—though Nate would have some paid-for mourners. They were more the sort that drew flies.
Mertz thought the best move with Nolan would be to strip him of his clothes, wrap him in an old sheet, and put morning early—before he stunk so bad and swole out the sides of his pine box. That had happened to Mertz once at a cheap funeral. He'd stuffed old man Crider in a box without embalming him and kept him overnight. Next day at the funeral—out in the hot, July sun—the bastard bloated like a whale. Luck had been with Mertz, however, and the body didn't cause the sides of the coffin to break open until after the family left. And stink—it was worse than a week-old rotted string of fish. Mertz and his gravediggers pushed Crider in the hole and got him covered pronto.
Course, Nolan already stunk. And something awful.
Mertz went over and looked down at the body. He was an ugly hombre. Maybe Mertz should at least clean the dirt out of his eye socket.
Nah. In for a penny, in for a pound. He'd just strip him, put him on ice, and get him planted early tomorrow morning. He already had a couple of gravediggers lined up. When that was over, he had Nate's funeral, and he would make some money off that. Even if no one cared about Nate. There might even be a few people come by to gloat.
Mertz turned up the lantern hanging over Nolan's slab, walked around to Nolan's feet, turned his back on the corpse, took hold of one of the stage driver's boots, and tugged it off.
He held the boot down to one of his feet to measure. Nope, not a fit.
He took hold of the other boot and pulled. It wouldn't come.
'Come on, you sonofabitch!'
Nolan sat up on the slab. Dirt dribbled from his eye socket and dropped from his hair.
Mertz quit tugging.
The back of his neck was crawling.
He heard a noise over on the other slab where Nate was dressed out. Glancing that way—
in the shadowy light cast from his lantern—he saw Nate swing off the slab.
Kids playing tricks he thought.
But then he caught a glimpse of Nolan sitting up on the slab behind him.
He let go of the boot and turned completely around.
And Nolan grabbed him.
XII
Abby was standing in the doorway of the lab, framed there in her nightgown by the light flowing down the hall from Doc's study. She was holding Doc's shotgun.
'I heard shots—My God, what was that?' Doc looked up from where he was leaning on the table. 'The living dead. Just like I told you. Now do you believe me?'
Abby merely nodded. 'I—I saw it walking. I couldn't shoot. Not with this—too close—
My God. It fell apart.'
'Yeah. Now, I've got to get you out of here. Come on get dressed.'
XIII
The Reverend smelled rain. He thought perhaps that was what had awakened him.
Whatever, he was restless and could not sleep. He went to the window and looked out.
The rain was starting to come down in big drops. The wind had picked up and it looked as if it might storm.
The Reverend looked at his pocket watch. Late.
He lit the lantern, sat down on his bed, and read from his pocket Bible.
XVI
Once it began, it happened fast. The dead were hungry. They went to the houses of friends, relatives, and enemies. Those of the living who were not completely devoured soon joined in the hungry ranks.
XV
The Reverend decided on a walk. He could neither sleep nor concentrate on his reading.
He dressed, dropped the pocket Bible into his pocket, and went downstairs.
III
THE FINAL SHOWDOW
When the Reverend passed Montclaire, the fat man was sleeping, as usual. On the desk were four greasy plates and the sad remains of a chicken that Montclaire had ravaged.
The Reverend stepped out into the street, and at that moment, as if it were waiting for him, all hell broke loose.
Down the street came David, running at full speed. When he saw the Reverend he began to call out. 'Help me, Reverend. Help!'
