Rise and Walk (11 page)

“It’s better than second place,” Lance joked, looking to his men for approval.

“I mean, not very fair for you guys,” Mason said as a matter of fact. He approached Lance with his hands at his sides. To the untrained eye, he didn’t appear ready for a confrontation, but with Mason’s speed and accuracy he was more than up to the challenge. He planned to use his open posture to lull Lance into complacency. He only hoped that Tony would know enough to go after the other one with the black eye first. His eye was a soft spot. Tony could take him out of the equation with one solid blow leaving just the two opponents. Mason hoped that Tony would remember their conversation from the morning and have a plan behind his attack.

A woman burst out of the trees to Mason’s right. Lance flinched back a step reacting in surprise at the sudden approach of Veronica. Mason however didn’t move. His eyes stayed trained on Lance ready for a fight. Veronica, fatigued from her sprint for aid, bent over and steadied herself with her hands on her knees.

“I need help,” she said through heavy breaths, “There’s a man down the way, he’s wounded.” She stood erect confused that no one was snapping into action to assist. Looking at the men she surmised that a fight was about to break.

“Look, this is serious, there’s a man dying out there,” she said with a stern voice. Mason, still looking at Lance with determination, spoke.

“We can finish this later,” his voice was dry and deep.

Veronica suddenly remembered something her father used to do in a crisis. He would order people to do things. In chaotic events some people needed direction. Her father had helped coordinate the emergency personnel during the earthquake even though he had no rank or authority over civilians. They listened to him because he sounded like he knew what he was doing. Inspired by the memory she decided to delegate like her father had.

“You!” she ordered towards Lance, “I need you to go call an ambulance, now!”

Lance looked at her, then down to her sports bra, and back to her face again. He smirked and turned to his men.

“Come on guys, the little lady needs an ambulance,” Lance mocked as he walked back to his truck.

Tony joined Veronica with a look of concern.

“Where is this guy?” he asked.

“Tell them we will be down the road about a mile from here,” Veronica called out to the truck disappointed with herself for forgetting that very important detail.

Lance drove the Dodge out of the camp as Mason watched. Finally he broke his gaze and gave Veronica all of his attention.

“What can we do to help?” he asked.

Tony had an idea. He whirled and moved around Nikki to the table. He retrieved a small pack from his pile of military gear.

“I need you two to carry him up the hill where we can meet the ambulance,” she said with less strain as her breathing leveled out. “Oh, do you have a first aid kit or bandages?” she added.

“Got it,” Tony said holding up a medical kit proud of his forethought. He moved close to the other three, standing behind Nikki. Her perfume was sweet and he found himself wanting to be nice to her. He put his hand on her shoulder to get her attention.

“You gonna come with us?” he asked. She turned surprised and nodded; a touch of concern in her eyes.

“Lead on,” Jack said to Veronica. She started off with a jog back into the trees. The men, with Nikki bringing up the rear, followed.

With all the excitement no one noticed that the music from Jack’s truck had been gradually quieting. As they ran off into the woods to save a stranger, the volume lessened and eventually went silent as the vehicle’s battery ran out of power.

EIGHTEEN

The guys at the plant called him Rickets. His real name was Darren Richards. A smart ass trucker who liked to nickname people gave him the moniker and it had stuck. He had just returned to his camp with a twelve pack, drinking a beer while he walked. His camp was just off the edge of the main body of campers. He had hoped to pick up on a stray woman at the campground this weekend and wanted a little privacy if he got lucky. Now the campground seemed lonely. The girl at the counter where he bought his beer looked like a juicy piece of ass but she must have been twenty years old.
Yeah
, he thought,
she probably didn’t know how to screw yet
. But it would be fun to teach her a thing or two. It had been a long time since he was with someone that young. He remembered paying the girl for her time and expertise on a visit to Portland Oregon. He smiled a lecherous grin at the memory. He had hoped to meet someone older this weekend; someone with experience who didn’t mind doing the things that a man like Rickets enjoyed. He never found his prey.

Lowering himself into his worn lawn chair he looked out over the shimmering lake. He took a large swallow of beer and removed his flannel shirt. The grey hairs of his chest had grown more noticeable in contrast to his tan. He noticed how round his belly had gotten over the past few years. His delusional machismo told him that he looked fine. He finished the last of his beer in a single gulp. Rickets leaned his head back with his eyes closed, basking in the sun.
Tanned fat looks better than pale fat
, he lied to himself.

Searing pain clamped onto his left shoulder as the corpse of Marcia Dahlgren bit into his flesh. His reflexes reacted pushing her away with a pained grunt. She flew back; a small amount of skin and muscle fibers remaining in her mouth. He started bleeding while his vision clouded with tears. Warm blood gushed down his chest staining his grey body hair. He blinked to clear his eyes and had difficulty understanding what it was standing before him. The woman lunged with surprising speed at Rickets. He back handed her with great force throwing her to the ground.

The commotion caught the attention of three nearby campers. Two young men and a young woman saw what they thought was a domestic dispute. The two men witnessed Rickets hit the woman as if it were second nature. They both ran the short distance towards Rickets and tackled him. Rickets’ large body hit the ground, knocking his wind out. The young woman ran to assist what she assumed to be a battered wife. She knelt down and tried to reassure the creature with a kind voice and was repaid with a savage bite to her neck. The woman screamed a muffled cry. The creature chewed quickly, slime frothing from her stuffed mouth and bit the woman again destroying the jugular vein. The two men, dumbfounded by the situation, quickly forgot about Rickets and rushed to assist their friend. One man ran around and grabbed the creature in a headlock. The other man held the injured woman by her shoulders. Her wound was slick with thin streams of blood. She began to have a seizure. The man set her down and held her arms to prevent her from harming herself unaware that she was rapidly bleeding to death.

“She attacked me,” wheezed Rickets lifting his face to look at the men.

“That fucking bitch bit me,” he cried as he held his shoulder. He got to his feet, stepped over the seizing woman and kicked the corpse of Marcia in her skinless face. The young man holding Marcia was rocked with the transference of force from the impact. He lost his hold on Marcia and was pushed on his back. The creature rolled to its stomach stunned for a moment until it focused on the young man’s shin. Marcia’s mouth snapped closed on the young man’s leg like a steel trap. He grunted a loud protest as he lifted his other leg to kick the creature in the head. His bare foot slid off her slimy face deflecting some of the blow. There wasn’t much meat to be found on the front of the man’s shin. Her teeth rasped useless against the bone. Sitting up she turned her savage attention to the young man caring for the dying woman. The undead corpse crawled fast towards the dumbstruck young man. The young woman slowed in her convulsions as life slipped from her body. Rickets jumped on the creatures back while the bitten young man grabbed her leg. The living dead creature growled while it struggled inch by inch towards the frozen young man. She fought with the ferocity of a starving animal desperate to reach food. Rickets’ bulk finally weighed Marcia down so that she could no longer advance. He put the full weight of his right hand on the back of her head as he propped himself up, grinding her wet skull into the sand.

“Chuck, is Kim okay?” asked the young man helping to hold the creature, his leg bleeding slightly.

Chuck only stared at the still young woman.

“Chuck!” the man called out again.

“I think she’s dead,” Rickets replied looking at the pool of blood that now trickled off the young woman’s neck. He looked back to the young man with compassion, “I’m sorry man.”

“What the hell?” demanded the young man as he stood, leaving Rickets to hold the struggling creature. He had a solid hold on her head and managed to get his knee up on her back. She flailed about with her arms to no avail. As Rickets watched the young man approach Chuck, he felt a wave of revulsion wash over him. He felt nauseous and a little weak from the confrontation. Rickets vomited a half a beer’s worth of stomach fluid on the back of Marcia’s corpse. His hot bile flowed down the curve of her spine and pooled around his knee. He fought back the urge to continue by raising his head in the air to breath in a deep breath. The sunlight caused his eyes to cloud up as sparkles danced before his vision. He felt faint. Turning his fat neck to get a look at his shoulder he could see that it was still bleeding. His sense of smell was hampered from the vomit that still clung to his throat but he thought that his wound had a stink to it. He forced air out his nostrils in a disgusting spray of mucus and inhaled again. There was a distinct chemical reek to his wound. Nausea fell over Rickets once more and he struggled to hold back the sick. He felt like he was developing a fever.

“Chuck is she?” the young man questioned quietly.

Chuck said nothing, bending to hold the woman’s limp body.

“Can you go get some fuckin’ help!” yelled Rickets to the young man. He looked at Rickets with the struggling creature then around the campgrounds. Some nearby campers looked to see what was going on yet made no attempts to get involved.

“Help!” the young man cried desperately, the exertion of his efforts causing him to feel lightheaded.

NINETEEN

Veronica was speechless. Standing where she had left the injured man she couldn’t believe what she saw. There was only a drying pool of blood and her dirty shirt where the man once was.

“He was right here,” Veronica protested.

Jack squatted and looked at the blood. He guessed the amount to be at just over a pint. Looking down the grade he could see a broken trail of thick blood leading up from the shore.
All together the man must have lost quite a bit
, he thought,
too much to get back to his feet
. About three feet from the blood, Jack could smell something strange. A sort of ammonia aroma was in the air, similar to the sweat of an amphetamine user.

“Tony, check this out,” he said.

Tony dropped to one knee and looked at the blood.

“Oxidized on the surface, the yellow stuff is plasma, it dries slower, fifteen minutes to a half hour, I would have to disturb it to get a better idea but the cops might not like that,” Tony surmised shrugging.

“The smell,” Jack said having already made the same mental determination though not in so many words. Tony leaned forward a bit and inhaled. What he smelled did strike him as odd. The smell was different than what he was used to for blood. The distinct metallic odor wasn’t present.

“Piss?” Tony conjectured.

“Not unless he was bleeding from his crotch, Veronica said,” Jack paused to look at the dark haired woman in the sports bra; “It’s Veronica right?”

She was distracted while scanning around the area for the man, a look of confusion on her face. She turned to Jack,

“Yes,” she said. Jack continued,

“Veronica said the guy had a neck wound, that’s here,” he pointed to the blood, “If it was piss, there would be a puddle about here,” he moved his hand down pointing where the man’s crotch would have been.

“Then his blood smells funky,” Tony shrugged, standing back up unconcerned by the odor. Nikki, a mixture of fear and frustration on her face, spoke.

“How do you know what blood smells like?” she questioned.

“I worked in a butcher shop once,” Tony said looking around.

“And I used to hunt a little,” Jack said looking up the grade to the camp road. Surveying the dirt for foot falls he thought he noticed something.

“Maybe someone else found him and took him to a hospital,” Nikki hoped aloud. Jack moved his eyes to the incline leading to the road.

“No, he got up,” he said standing. He didn’t know how someone with such an amount of blood loss could manage to get to their feet. Jack could now see tracks to the road that matched the ones leading to the puddle. He had missed the tracks near the blood because the others were moving around the scene obscuring the evidence. Veronica looked to the ground and tried to discern if she could see any footprints. She couldn’t see any signs of the man walking however she did believe that Jack could.

“Is someone helping him?” she asked.

“No, he’s stumbling around a bit but there’s only one set of tracks,” Jack said and started off up the grade. Tony caught up to Jack watching the ground for evidence. Finally he noticed a smudged footprint. The man was indeed having trouble walking. His prints were smeared and close together indicating a short staggering stride. Veronica followed to Jack’s left with Nikki behind.

Over the rise a man stood five yards away swaying like a drunkard. He looked about dumbly with his back turned to the party. Veronica moved to assist the man. Mason placed his left hand out in front of her, stopping her with a touch. He was sure to direct his palm towards her stomach avoiding the embarrassment of accidentally touching her in an inappropriate area.

“Wait,” he cautioned, intuitive alarms sounding in Mason’s mind.

The man turned to reveal a gaping neck wound caked with dirt and blood. His unsteady gait froze as cold dead eyes focused on the four samaritans. The man opened his mouth and appeared to release a roar. The only sound heard was a disgusting rasp of gurgling air from the man’s neck. Nikki yelped a small scream. Tony back peddled behind Mason and placed himself in front of Veronica and Nikki. The man moved his tattered form, unsteady on his feet, his arms outstretched towards the party.