The Dead

“Ben Wilson’s diving store. We’re heading south. We should check it out. Big old cinderblock building, might not have burned. We could get drysuits.”

“Drysuits?”

“Yeah. They’re like wetsuits, but they don’t need water. They’d keep us real toasty.”

“Didn’t old man Wilson keep a shotgun behind his counter?” Steve asked.

“I caught some of his rock salt,” Gary said, nodding. “That Mischief Night, when we broke his front window. Gun might still be there, I suppose.”

“Wouldn’t mind trading this rifle for a twelve-gauge,” Steve said. “Linda, you know how to use this Heckler and Koch?”

“Gary’s father took us all shooting one time,” Linda answered. “I could manage. But I’d rather have that shotgun-if it’s working.”

“Wise woman.”

“What about me?” Sally demanded. “What do I get?”

“You don’t know anything about guns,” Steve said.

“I could learn. Linda could give me that pistol.”

“Come on, Sally.”

“Come on yourself.”

“Hate to change the subject,” Gary broke in, sensing things were just about to get nasty, “But do you think we should have someone on the stairs? Looking out through the cracks or something?”

“Won’t be able to see much with that tall grass,” Steve said. “Might be a good idea to go and just listen, though.”

“I’ll do it for a while,” Gary said. He found his way back to the steps, and went up, to crouch just below the plywood. A small amount of light came in under the moldy-smelling sheet. He lifted the plywood to look out; but Steve was right about the weeds.

Gary settled himself in a more comfortable position, listening. Somewhere in the distance a car chugged along; he wondered if it was that T-Bird. Also if it was still dragging that man behind it-and if the second guy had fallen. Were they being scraped to death even now? Or would they be set back on their feet before too much damage was done? The dead plainly enjoyed torturing their victims, but when it came to killing, they seemed to prefer strangulation. It occurred to him that their potential reinforcements might be resurrected sooner the more intact they were. Or, at least, the more intact their vital organs were. The drowning victim he’d seen at the beach had risen in less than twenty-four hours; his father, worked over by the undertakers, had taken more than twice as long. Uncle Buddy hadn’t been strangled, but he had given his assailant special provocation-

Special provocation, Gary thought. What an idiot Buddy was. He and Lucy might still be alive, if only he’d listened…

Aren’t you glad he didn’t, Gary thought.

And instantly recoiled from the idea. He’d never had anything against Aunt Lucy.

But as for Buddy… well, it was hard to feel anything but relief that he was gone. He’d left Max and his own brother to die; surely Dave’s death had cracked him completely. Unless Buddy had always just been an evil son of a bitch.

And yet Gary couldn’t get comfortable with his lack of grief. There was something threatening in it; he felt almost as if he was being subjected to some sort of temptation, as though he were on the brink of some terrible surrender. He told himself he wasn’t actually glad Buddy was dead-but he could easily imagine himself sliding into that state, remembering Max fading into the distance behind the van, Buddy’s last horrible gloating words and the clack of his teeth…Yes, it would be easy to smile at the thought of Hank’s jaws shutting on the old fat shithead’s arm, the long elastic strings of flesh stretched between Buddy’s elbow and the crimson teeth as Buddy pulled his limb back-

Stop it! Shrieked a voice in Gary’s mind. The pleasure receded. So did that sense of danger, somehow. He’d moved back from the brink. What was on the other side, he didn’t know, but he knew it must be terrible.

He’s on the other side, Gary thought suddenly.

But who was He? Who had Buddy seen as he stared across the border into the land of the dead?

You’ll fall into him too, college boy, Buddy had said. But Max first…

Gary wrenched his mind free, fixing his concentration on the sounds outside. The chugging of the distant car had faded; now he thought he could make out far-off screams.

Max, he thought suddenly. Oh my God, my brother’s still out there. And they probably got him already-

Gary shook his head. If anyone could’ve slipped out of that situation, it was Max.

Bullshit, came the answer. It was hopeless, and you know it. They were closing in on three sides. They caught him and filled his throat with dirt and choked him to death, and soon he’ll be one of them, Gary boy-

“Just stop thinking about it,” Gary told himself under his breath.

How’d you like to have your neck wrung by your own bro-

“You say something, Gary?” Steve called softly from the bottom of the steps.

“No,” Gary answered.

He heard someone coming up toward him. There was just enough light for him to see that it was Linda. She huddled against his legs.

“Love you,” she said tremulously.

“Love you too, babe,” he answered.

Her hand slid into his.

“Steve,” came Sally’s voice from the blackness.

“What?” Steve asked.

“What if MacAleer’s right?”

“I’d be surprised if that Bible-thumper’s been on target about anything in his life…But right about what, anyway?”

“What’s happening.”

Steve chuckled.

“Go ahead, laugh,” Sally said. “But he scared the hell out of me.”

“After all we’ve seen today, MacAleer’s what’s bothering you?”

“What’s going to happen to us if he’s right, Steve?” Sally whispered.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know damn well.”

Steve hesitated before replying. “Frankly, no I don’t.”

“There won’t be any hope for us at all.”

“If this is Hell, maybe not. But why should it be any worse for us?”

“How can you ask me that? After what we-”

“Did? We’ve done a lot of things. Which particular mountain are you making a molehill of?”

“That’s backward.”

“Yeah, I’ve always had trouble with that one.”

“I know.”

“I don’t believe any of MacAleer’s horseshit anyway,” Steve continued. “And neither should you.”

“I believe it,” Linda said.

“Glad to hear you admit it,” Steve said.

“Couldn’t you see it on those things’ faces?” Linda asked.

“See what?”