forgot. It’s kind of scary, isn’t it, Zell? We can die. We can still die.”
I nodded silently. We weren’t invulnerable. Stiffs were dying proof of that.
“Come on, Trevor,” I said. “Let’s go.”
He nodded quietly but didn’t move. I took his arm in my hand and urged him to stand. He obeyed after a few minutes.
“Let’s go home,” I said. “I’ve had enough tracking for one night.”
“Sure,” Trevor said hesitantly. “That was pretty thriller, Zell. Thanks for making me come.”
I nodded. “Maybe we can come out again next week. Maybe we can try to take out a Stiff ourselves.”
“I don’t know,” Trevor said doubtfully.
“It beats going to the Hub again,” I replied. I was excited. For once, I couldn’t wait until next weekend. We could gather some tracking equipment from my mentor and make a real go of it then. We wouldn’t have really been able to take out a Stiff tonight, not without weapons. But if we prepared, maybe we could have our first kill too. It was exhilarating. I couldn’t wait.
We turned and began heading in the same direction as the Advanced kids.
“Rrrrrrrrr.”
We stopped. Trevor looked around uncertainly. Then we saw them. They were glowing dots in the blackness, their eyes orbs of light. Then they appeared from the dark, like shadows. From out of nowhere. Like they always did. They smelled the blood. That’s the only thing that drew them by smell. Blood. Wakes could smell it too. We could smell it from miles away. That rusty, tangy smell was like sex for the nostrils. They came quickly. They aren’t as slow as you might think. Especially if they had died within a few weeks. Then they’re fast. And dangerous. Really dangerous.
The Stiffs came upon us suddenly. First one. Then two more. And four more. And they were a forming a line closing in on us. A horde. All around us, growling and gurgling and moving forward quickly, partially dragging their feet while running. Their jaws snapped madly with a sharp chomping sound. Their yellow eyes glowed in the gloom.
Trevor and I stepped back from the prone body of the Stiff. The horde was filing toward us like a band of prisoners on a death march with no alternative but to continue forward. And they were hungry. They were always hungry. And they were everywhere. Their shadows suffocated us.
And then, the Stiffs were on us.
13. REVENGE OF THE STIFFS
“Run,” I said, too softly to be audible. “Run!” I forced the word through my throat.
We turned and raced across the field, slipping through the bodies of the enclosing mob of living dead. The Stiffs gave chase. They were mindless. They had come for blood, but once they saw us, knew we were there, they were drawn to us. Stiffs tended to have a one-track mind, focusing only on the most recent thing to pervade their senses. The lifeless Stiff was less than an afterthought – it was a nonthought.
“Don’t stop,” I said. That was feasible. Another benefit of being a zombie is that you never got tired. You didn’t have to breathe, so you never ran out of breath. As long as your body was in working condition, and your brain was active, you could keep going forever.
The horde wasn’t far behind us. Two or three had bumped into each other and started tearing themselves apart. That happened. Stiffs usually didn’t attack each other unless they had the smell of blood on or near them. They didn’t attack Wakes for the same reason. Even humans were left alone. They were only really dangerous when they smelled blood, or became aware that a living, animate creature was nearby. Then they attacked with all their force, mindlessly and viciously and without relent.
More had started to gather. They heard the other Stiffs. They smelled the blood. They would see the horde. Any that had been around, hidden in the brush or some yards off wandering mindlessly unseen, would join quickly. It would only get worse. Hordes attracted hordes. That was another lesson of the Guide to Tracking Humans. I was learning a lot of lessons today. If tonight’s tracking expedition had been a test, I’d be failing.
A Stiff lurched at me from the side. I blocked its arm with mine as it threw its head forward. I elbowed it under its jaw and its head snapped back. I shoved it away and kept running.
“There’s too many,” I said to Trevor.
Trevor shook his head. “What do we do?”
“Split up,” I said. “We have to separate them or they’ll just keep coming.”
“Then what?”
“Keep running. Until you lose them, or they lose you. Meet me back at the bus station. Be careful. Okay?”
Trevor nodded. I pointed for him to go the left. He held up his arm as we ran. I connected mine to his. Then we split. I dashed off to the right at full speed. I glanced behind me. The Stiffs had separated. A few had gotten confused and began wrestling with each other. About six were following me now. It was better odds. But I had to get away from them or more would just jump in.
A copse appeared before me. More Stiffs could be within. At night Stiffs tended to rest, and they gathered in dense areas like forests. I could be running into a more grim situation. But it would be easier to lose them with some cover. I sprinted quickly ahead, shoving away a Stiff that was closing in. I dove into the brush and veered off, weaving between tree trunks. I was making a lot of noise, snapping twigs and rustling through bushes. I didn’t care. I needed to get as far away from the Stiffs as I could, so they couldn’t find me.
I ran past a tree, bouncing off it with my hands as I passed and moving in the opposite direction. I glided over the grass and brush. I could still hear the Stiffs growling behind me, but it was growing fainter. They were having a hard time keeping track of me. Once they lost sight of me it would be over.
I jumped over a log. I was jerked to the ground, falling face first into a pile of brittle leaves. My head was dazed as I spun onto my back and gazed ahead. A thick, pale hand was clinched around my ankle. The Stiff that had been lying on the ground, dormant, had been reanimated by the noise of my escape through the woods. It sat on one elbow with its legs sprawled off at opposite angles and was slowly pulling its upper body up. It had been there for a while, all but dead from brain deprivation. Its eyes rolled up toward me, blood shot and blank. The skin on its face was tight, its eyes sunken in, and maggots crawled in and around its face, through torn pieces of flesh. This Stiff was on its last legs. It held my ankle tightly as it drew itself closer to me.
I struggled to break free of its grip. It was impossible. I’d have to break my ankle to get free. The Stiff’s jaw hung open as it slowly began to snap it open and closed, saliva pouring out around its lips. Its tongue hung limply out of its mouth, and it began biting into it, piercing it until it bit so hard that it severed it in its jaw and it fell off. The Stiff didn’t seem to mind. Its long angular face continued to stare at me as it moved forward, dragging itself slowly and mechanically toward me as its body forced itself to work again.
The Stiff’s face is still drilled into my memory, moonlight splashed across it as it pulled itself out of the shadows of the trees. I had never seen an undead Stiff this close before. It was so much like us. This Stiff with its pale dead skin and lust for blood and brains was just a lobotomized version of myself. If I hadn’t been chosen by the town’s government to be educated, this Stiff would be me. And in another world, maybe this Stiff could have taken my place in town, enjoying the benefits of human intelligence the way I did. So many little experiences and decisions had separated us, placing me in Revenant and it in these woods, none of which either of us had any influence over. This Stiff had been me, once. We were the same, but I was somehow better, more deserving than it was. And I had no problem distinguishing myself from it, because I had been granted these privileges and it hadn’t. As it gazed at me fixedly with its cold, blank eyes, I thought to myself that living death was a hell of a thing.
I tried to back up, but it held me close. I couldn’t get free. I grunted, my hands grabbing at dead leaves and dirt as I tried to find something to defend myself with. The Stiff crawled toward me
. Its free hand fell on my leg and it began digging its fingers in. I kicked its hand away with my free leg and then raised it and shoved my foot as hard as I could into the Stiff’s face. Its nose was shattered and half of its face was smashed to one side. The maggots scattered. It slowly turned its head to face me and began crawling toward me again. It hadn’t loosened its grip on my ankle at all.
It began to stand, raising itself onto its knees and then shakily onto its feet, and stumbled toward me. It snapped its jaws in the direction of my head. It knew what it wanted. Brains. It wouldn’t keep it undead. But it didn’t know that. It didn’t know anything.
I raised my free leg and kicked at it again, this time in the chest. The Stiff buckled backward and fell on one leg. It began to rise again. I threw my leg again into its chest and it flew backward, but not before reaching with its other hand and grabbing my other ankle. It held itself up, using my legs as an anchor. It turned its head toward me again, snapping its jaw. I tried to wrestle my legs free, but I couldn’t. Its grasp was like a vise, crushing my ankles. It began to drag my body toward it.
I panicked. I was dead. This Stiff was going to completely devour me. I clinched my eyes shut and waited for absolute death.
Then I threw myself forward, hands to the ground, and launched myself up with all my