One Night Dead

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You gun it.

Fuck this lady, something crazy is going on and Sarah needs you. This woman could be a psycho killer for all you know. You slam on the gas and your tires skid for a moment, throwing gravel up towards the office, pelting the glass wall hard enough that it’s audible to you in your car. Finally the tires catch and your car is speeding backwards and the rear bumper collides with the woman and sends her up over the trunk and through the rear window and into your backseat.

“Shit!” you shout, twisting the wheel wildly as shards of broken glass fly forward to slice at your arms and your hands. Your knuckles are ghost-white as you grip the wheel, sending the car sliding sideways and down into the ditch across the road from the motel. Your car skids down the grassy incline, coming to a jolting stop at the bottom. The bloody woman is still in the backseat, groaning loudly as she attempts to pull herself from the floor to the back seat. You attempt to throw your door open but it won’t budge. you realize the incline is steed enough that since your car is sitting sideways in it the door isn’t able to clear the ground. You throw the car in drive and grab the steering wheel once more, but when you hit the gas your tires only spin uselessly, burying themselves in wet ground deeper with each revolution.

The passenger door is your only hope, and something about this woman makes you want to get away from her as quickly as possible. You slide into the passenger seat with some effort, working against gravity. Pushing the door open is even harder, it wants to slam back shut every time you push it out. It’s opening into the air and you can now appreciate just how steep an incline your car is sitting.

You finally manage to get the door wide enough for it to stay open when you let go and begin to slide out of your car. The woman in the backseat has other ideas though, and a quick burst of terror washes throughout your body like a tidal wave when her bony hand curls around your ankle.
“Fuck!” you yell, kicking your leg wildly, but her grip remains. “Let go!” you try again, twisting around to look down at the woman, now half way between the backseat and the front. She looks up at you and a new kind of terror over takes you. Her eyes are milky and shine brightly, catching the glow from the moon that hangs bloated and ominous in the night sky. Her mouth is open, her teeth darkened by blood, more brown than red, dried and sticky on her gums and seemingly down her throat. Her nose is pointed and her chin angular, and before you can react the woman darts her head forward and the pain of her taking a bite out of the flesh just above your ankle is so excruciating that you almost pass out.

“What are you doing?” you stammer, fighting the wave of revulsion that comes from seeing this ghoulish woman chewing your skin and swallowing it. The woman opens her mouth once more and leans her head in again, but this time you fight back, thrashing out and pulling your ankle from her grasp, then sending the heel of your shoe into the woman’s cranium. Her head snaps back with a loud crack and you know her neck is broken, considering a large white shard is jutting from her skin just above her shoulders.

Your leg is bleeding profusely, and you know you have to get help. You aren’t sure where your cell phone is now, and even though the woman’s neck is broken, she’s laying against the edge of the driver’s seat, still groaning. You want out of your car, and fast.

You go to work once more attempting to climb out, having a bite taken out of your leg sends adrenaline coursing through your system, and before you know it you’re halfway out of the car, your hands digging into the soft earth of the incline. You’re in a hurry so you rock your body forward in hopes to shoot out of the car on one more heave, and you would have to, if you didn’t jostle the car just enough to cause the passenger door to come swinging down, hitting you right in the back, crushing two vertebrate in your spine. You scream in pain, blood spraying from your lips, falling in large droplets onto the grass in front of you.
You aren’t one to simply give up though, and with the woman below you paralyzed, she isn’t a threat to you in this perilous situation. You work madly to pull yourself form your car, but you aren’t sure if you’re moving your legs, because the truth is, you can’t feel them. You fight for an hour before you begin to feel sick, and ten minutes after that you take a break because you’re vision has gone blurry. That woman was carrying something, obviously. She bit you, and now you’re sick. You just need to rest, that’s all. You close your eyes and when you open them again you aren’t you. You’re dead and left on Earth in your place is a ghoul. A shadow of your former self, simply, a zombie. A zombie unable to push the heavy door off of himself. You sit there for months while the world goes to shit around until you rot so much your brain turns to mush and you’re dead for the second time.


 

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