After his mob beating in the cold, dark cellar, Frank’s head was covered with a hood and he was unchained and dragged out of the darkness by several soldiers.
He drifted in and out of consciousness as he felt every muscle in his body ache from more bruises than he could count. All he could see out of his one good eye as they dragged him off was his bare feet surrounded by soldier’s boots and the dripping blood which continued to bead off his naked upper body from numerous wounds.
Before he could gain his bearings, he was dragged roughly down a short flight of steps and thrown to the ground. He could hear the familiar sounds of machinery all around him. The brutes whispered and laughed softly as someone grabbed his hands and tied them together above his head with a cord. Someone else tied his ankles together. He was then dragged by his legs over to the tank where his legs were released to dangle over the edge as the others lowered him down by his secured hands from what he assumed was a rope.
They left him hooded and dangling over the edge of the tank with his toes just inches from the tank bottom.
Here comes round number two, he thought.
His heart began to race as he heard what sounded like a large valve being turned, followed by water… lots of it… pouring into the tank.
“When you’re finally ready to start being cooperative and answer Mr. Micom’s questions,” the familiar voice of his favorite brute said, “just shout as loud as you can like the big fucking pussy that you are. If not, we’re just going to watch you drown in there. And that’s okay by us.”
They all laughed as they started to exit the room.
“By the way, we have a pool going on you,” the brute said from the steps. “Right now it’s 3-to-1 odds that the hypothermia will kill ‘ya long before the water rises over your head.”
He had wanted to say something smart and insulting, earning him another beating, but Frank just didn’t have the strength left.
Probably just as well… It would take more time to explain to the retard how I insulted him than it would to tell the insult.
The soldiers exited the room.
The water in the tank was quickly rising. He felt the ice-cold liquid touch his toes. Fuck! I’m with those 3- to-1 odds… my heart will stop long before I drown to death.
As the water rose to his knees, his legs were already getting numb. Fuck me, this is going to suck. Once my core body temperature drops far enough… game over.
He heard the door open. One of them was coming back.
Now what? More lame one-liners? He silently prayed that he wouldn’t hear a female’s voice. Gina was in worse shape than he was the last time he saw her. Getting dropped in here would finish her off in a hurry.
He heard someone step up over the edge of the tank just as the water began freezing his genital region. Worst part’s over now, he thought as he began to shake from the cold. Once they freeze your nuts off… the cold doesn’t seem so bad.
“You alright down there?” a younger voice he did not recognize asked.
Frank laughed through chattering teeth. “If that’s… if that’s some… some kind of trick question… I’m really… really not in the mood,” he managed to get out.
He heard the valve again and the water ceased pouring. Frank then heard another valve being turned and noticed the water lever recede down past his aching balls.
If making me have sex with a goat is next on the torture menu… then they’re definitely wasting their time.
The water level was back down to his toes now. His legs screamed out as if they were on fire.
“I’m going to lower you down,” the voice said. “Try to bend your knees and catch yourself.”
“I can’t feel my fucking knees… but I’ll try,” Frank said.
When the water had drained out of the tank, Frank felt slack in the rope as he fell forward on his knees too quickly but managed to get his hands out in front to keep from falling on his face.
“I’m coming down there. Please don’t try anything stupid.”
Does ripping your nose off with my fucking chattering teeth count as stupid? he thought. “You got it, pal. I’m in no… I’m in no shape for stupid.”
He heard what sounded like a rope ladder being dropped. Someone was climbing down. He heard boots strike the tank floor.
“Could you take this… this sack off of my… my head? I’m having trouble… breathing.”
Footsteps approaching.
Wait for it, Frank… wait…
Someone pulled the sack off his head.
Just as Frank was about to reach up and choke the son-of-a-bitch with his bound hands, he felt cold steel against his forehead. “Don’t,” the young man with blond hair warned. “I’m here to help you, but I can’t do that if you make me shoot you first.”
Frank stared into the blue-eyed devil’s face and knew that he meant it. He then noticed the familiar soldier uniform. “So what game are we playing now? ‘Good Cop, Bad Cop’? You guys… you guys really need to update your torture… and interrogation techniques.”
The young man crouched down to his level and said, “I want to cut your bindings and get you the hell out of this thing… but I need you to trust me enough not to attack me. Believe me, you’re not getting out of this room without my help. What do you say?”
Frank frowned. “I guess I can always kill you later.”
“Fair enough,” the young man said, placing his gun in his holster. He pulled out a knife and started cutting Frank’s bindings. “My name’s Jonathan,” he said. “I’m one of the three you butchers didn’t kill in that office building over in Shithole, USA.”
“I see,” Frank said. As soon as his hands and feet were free, he grabbed Jonathan’s legs and pulled them out from under him. Frank climbed on top of him and punched him hard in the face.
Jonathan stopped struggling and Frank easily acquired his gun. He used the wall to get back up on his numb legs and aimed the gun down at the shit-bag. “Get up!” he barked.
Jonathan slowly rose to his feet, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll let you have that one shot,” he said. “But try it again and I’ll kill you.”
Frank laughed at the little man and said, “Now that’s funny, pal. Tell me something. Were you the dick who ratted us out after we let you and your murderous friends go? You really need to work on your expressions of gratitude… Hey! Don’t fucking move!”
“Put that away,” Jonathan said, ignoring the gun. He walked over to the rope ladder. “It’s not even loaded, smart guy.”
Frank checked the magazine and the chamber. It was empty. Okay… don’t underestimate the kid again. “I don’t need this to tear you apart.”
Jonathan nodded and sighed. “Yes… you could kill me… I get it. You’d be doing me a favor. But I want to help you if you let me. Kill me if you want… but you’re never getting out of here alive without my help. So can we move past this stand-off already? I’ve reassigned the guards… but they’ll be back eventually. When they discover what I’ve done, this whole damn camp will be up in arms.”
Frank studied the young man. He finally let out a heavy sigh and tossed Jonathan back his gun. “Answer two questions and I’ll stop being a pain in the ass.”
“Make it quick,” Jonathan said as he reloaded his weapon with a fresh magazine and put it away.
“Is my friend, the red-headed woman, still alive?”
“I honestly don’t know. But even if she is, there’s no way I can get you to her without getting us both killed.”
Frank nodded. He had to be careful with the next question just in case this was all a clever ruse to uncover his true intentions for being here. “Did your friend, Megan, betray us, too? She really had us fooled into thinking that she had no part of all this… madness.”
Jonathan’s face changed. “Ask her yourself,” he said as he started climbing the rope ladder. “That’s why I’m breaking you out of here.”
“Now why would you want me to do that? What happened to you after we let you leave?”
Jonathan reached the top quickly, turned and said, “Look, it’s a long story we don’t have time for. Let’s just say I made a horrible mistake trusting these people… and now my brother’s dead. The only reason I believe Megan’s still alive is because they need her for their sick experiments. I can get you outside and point you to where they’re keeping her… but the rest is on you.”
Talk about your fucking Gift Horse! “One more question,” Frank said.
“You said ‘two’ questions.”
“Fuck you. My math sucks right now.”
“Hurry up… ask. We’re running out of time.”
“Why should I care where the hell Megan is? What makes you think-”
“I know that’s why you two came,” Jonathan said. “Megan said all kinds of good things about some of you… obviously your group made an impression. After I recognized your friend, and that she was the one who shot at my brother, I acted rashly. I told Micom who you were because I wanted someone to blame for Lucas’s death and I focused all my anger on your red-headed friend for hurting him. Truth is, she didn’t get him killed… I did.”
Frank said, “And now you’ve had a change of heart? Am I supposed to believe that bullshit?”
“No… of course not,” Jonathan said. “I don’t care one way or the other what happens to either of you. But you’re the best chance I have to fix things. After I had time to think about it, I realized that Megan must have left an impression on your group as well… and that’s why you both came here to rescue her. After you all found out what this place really was from those other people you ran into, that’s when your girl realized she’d sent Megan away to die here. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Frank didn’t know how to safely answer.
“Relax. I didn’t say anything to Micom about my theory. If I had… he would’ve laughed in my face. Monsters like him expect big, diabolical schemes and plans to take their kingdoms out from under them. There’s no way he’d even think that saving some naïve pregnant girl would be a worthy enough reason to risk your lives coming here.”
Frank had nothing. This kid could’ve blown their mission any time he’d wanted… and now he had a chance to get to the girl. “I guess there’s nothing left to say. You’ve figured it all out.”
Jonathan sighed, reached over the rail with his hand out and said, “Not everything. Donovan always said I had a knack for piecing together the puzzle. Lot of good that turned out to be. Can we go now… while we still have a chance?”
Frank nodded and climbed the rope ladder. How about that—duped by the punk who looks fresh out of high school, while the mastermind running this madhouse is going bat-shit-crazy trying to pull the truth out of our blood. And he wouldn’t believe it anyway, even if we came right out and told all. Man, I would love to punch old Irony right in the fucking face right now.
The effort required to ascend the rope ladder took everything Frank had. His legs were a mess… hell, everything was a mess… but he continued to push forward.
Jonathan was concerned. He came over and placed one of the big man’s arms over his shoulder.
Frank accepted the help begrudgingly and said, “This doesn’t mean shit. I’m still considering shoving that knife in your ear.”
The young man frowned. “We need to get moving. First, you’re going to need some clothes.” He helped Frank up the stairwell and out the door into a long half-lit hallway full of various pipes and cables which ran along the ceiling.
“Where the hell are we?” Frank asked.
“Maintenance level beneath the camp,” Jonathan answered impatiently. “All the mechanical magic that makes everything topside do what it’s supposed to do is down here.”
They passed a large metal door to the right. It looked familiar to Frank.
“That’s where they tortured the both of you,” Jonathan said, beating Frank to the question. “It’s one of many dirty secrets they keep hidden down here.” He slowed down near a door on the left. “Okay, this is it.”
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They entered a small room with what looked like a large fuse box dominating one wall. A row of lockers ran along the other wall. There was a chair in the room with a pair of socks, boots and a clean soldier uniform and coveralls. “These are for you,” Jonathan told him. “Get dressed quickly.”
Frank was surprised at how well it all fit… including the boots. “You’ve thought this through.”
“Not me,” he said. “This was my brother, Lucas’s, original plan. I’m just adapting it. If I had known at the time that he was safer out there among the dead than in here… I wouldn’t have turned him in.”
Frank raised his eyebrows. “You’re a real class act, aren’t you, kid? Seems like you’ve blown the whistle on just about everyone. I guess that makes you an equal-opportunity Judas.”
Jonathan winced at the jab which struck too close to home. He quickly shook it off, peeked out the door and then ducked back into the room. “Okay. I’m going to tell you what to do. Like it or don’t… you need to listen. Once we get outside, it’s going to be dark as hell and the Shadow Dead are out there.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“After we leave this room, take a left at the end of the hall. There’s a flight of steps that will take you down to a door marked: SEWAGE.”
“I’m not liking the sound of this,” Frank said.
“You can thank me for the coveralls later,” he said with a wink. “There’s a big long pipe that my brother busted open. You’ll be able to smell it long before you see it. The pipe’s big enough to crawl through and empties out somewhere on the western side of the camp.” He stepped toward the row of lockers and opened one. Jonathan pulled out an assault rifle and three extra magazines. He also retrieved a small flashlight. He handed the rifle and light to Frank and said, “You’re going to need to move swiftly but quietly. Listen for the river and get there. Follow it downstream until you reach a waterfall.”
“You mean the waterfall with the cave behind it?”
Jonathan looked surprised.
“We have people in our camp who talk about this place… and its secrets… like their telling ghost stories.”
Jonathan nodded. “You’re talking about the ones who escaped from here before. I was never aware that anyone knew about the waterfall… except Donovan and the people he answered to.”
“And how do you know about it? No offense, but Megan made you all out to be some kind of recruits. Doesn’t seem likely that the boss would share secrets with a bunch of nobodies.”
Jonathan smiled. “We were worse than ‘nobodies’. We were pawns… guinea pigs. Truth is, Donovan, the guy who shot arrows at you, he was my mentor. He liked to talk about a great many things when he drank. I’ll admit, most of it never made a lick of sense to me until after I arrived here. But I do remember him mentioning the damn waterfall. He was very vague and it wasn’t much… but he’d called it a facility. None of it clicked until after I found out, straight from the devil’s mouth himself, that this place wasn’t the place we were looking for. When Micom told me this wasn’t Headquarters… I knew it had to be out there.”
“We’re still talking about the den where the Shadow Dead live… right?”
“Among other things,” he answered cryptically. “Just get your ass there as fast as you can. If Megan’s still alive, that’s where she has to be.”
“We’ve still got a problem with your plan,” Frank said. “You failed to mention how we’re going to get Gina out first.”
Jonathan gave him an incredulous look. “There’s no way we can get to her. She’s topside. Are you aware of how many soldiers there are running around up there?”
“Doesn’t matter. We leave together.”
“Then you don’t leave at all!” Jonathan hissed. “Don’t you get it? The only reason I was able to get down here is because Micom’s focused entirely on her right now. You two had a mission, right? Save Megan?”
“Yes.” Frank said and looked away.
“Then it’s real simple: You either continue your mission where there’s a chance to save Megan… or, you can die trying to get to your friend. I assure you, you’ll get nowhere close before you’re both dead.”
“I’m not leaving her here for these wolves to prey upon,” Frank said.
Jonathan shook his head. “Okay… let’s try this again. What would Gina do if she had a chance to save the girl or rescue you?”
Frank already knew the answer. He and Gina had discussed this very scenario over their last fire together: If one had to be sacrificed for a chance to get to the girl… they needed to take it. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. Besides, he’d always assumed he’d be the dead one. “Let’s get this over with,” he grumbled.
Jonathan shook his head and smiled. “The fucking irony is beautiful, don’t you think?”
“What are you talking about?”
“It was my ‘mission’ to get Megan here. I was the one who put her in harm’s way. And your mission is to get her out.”
Frank frowned. “Was it your damn mission, too, to gun my friend down in the street?”
Jonathan’s eyes dropped. “That was… we tried to stop it… Megan and I… but it was too late. Donovan had already poisoned my brother’s mind, just as he had the others. I watched him melt down after he shot your friend… Lucas was never the same after that. I think this is what broke the spell Donovan had over him.”
Frank stepped up and loomed over Jonathan. “Just so you know… I wouldn’t have lost a moment’s sleep if we’d killed all of you fuckers in that office building. The whole damn lot of you aren’t worth half the man you killed. He was a good and decent man, probably one of a handful left on this fucking planet!”
Jonathan nodded, unable to look Frank in the eye. “Megan’s worth it,” he finally said. “She was never part of anything Donovan had us do. She only stayed to protect her baby.”
“Maybe so,” Frank said, “but fifty Megan’s aren’t worth losing Gina.”
Jonathan looked confused. “Then why save Megan at all?”
“Because my friend believes her own death has more value saving that girl’s life, than living in the dark place she’s at now. So I’m doing this for Gina… not for the fucking pregnant girl!”
“Fair enough. We should go.”
Frank nodded.
Jonathan stepped back over to the lockers and pulled out another assault rifle. “There’s one catch to this plan. In order for you to make it to the river, I have to give the Shadow Dead something else to focus on.”
“What are you up to?” Frank said.
Jonathan smiled. “I’m going topside to put some bullet holes in that fucking machine. When I do, a very loud alarm is going to go off. You need to be as far from this camp by then as you can, because when that alarm sounds, the Shadow Dead’s going to come running. So when you hear it… find somewhere to hide and stay quiet.”
“You’ll be dead moments after you attempt it.”
“Yes,” Jonathan said with relief. “Yes… I so hope you’re right.”
~~~
Jonathan Rhodes waited within a dark alley between two-hangar sized barracks as he prepared himself for the suicide mission. He could see Micolad on the platform, surrounded by four soldiers, as he stared through the back of a tall row of bleachers at the edge of the general assembly area.
For once in your worthless life, do something without cowering to fear, he thought. Everyone you ever knew or loved is dead now… except Megan. Do this one decent and noble act and die like a fucking man!
“I’m sorry, Lucas,” he whispered into the dark. “I know you hate me for what I did… but if you’re watching, then you know I’m doing this to try to make it right. With any luck, maybe Frank will find her and get Megan out of this hellish place. They have people who can keep her safe.”
With nothing left to say, Jonathan stood up and stormed toward the assembly area. When he reached the blood-stained open area in front of the platform, several soldiers were already moving cautiously toward him.
“I need all of you at the domes… now!” Jonathan ordered, trying to fake his way closer to the machine by using his new authority.
The soldiers gave each other confused looks.
“Sir?” one of them said.
“What are you deaf? One of the terrorists we captured is hiding in the domes. We need to find him… now!”
Some of the soldiers departed, while a handful remained because Jonathan’s orders put them in conflict with their standing orders to protect Micolad.
He marched straight toward the platform acting like his authority came from Micolad himself.
The remaining soldiers on the platform blocked his way.
“Stand aside!” he commanded. “I’ve just been put in charge by Micom, himself, to oversee Micolad’s safety. I want you to stand down and help the others form a protective perimeter around the assembly area!”
The soldiers hesitated and then finally stepped down to join the others.
Jonathan had a clear path to Micolad now. He started up the platform steps.
Suddenly, several soldiers stepped out of the shadows and ran to intercept Jonathan.
He’d been set up.
“Halt! Don’t you dare step any closer to Micolad!” someone yelled.
The soldiers down in the open area had drawn their weapons and aimed them at Jonathan.
“Hold your fire!” the voice of Micom boomed. He was coming out of one of the barracks surrounded by more soldiers. “I want that man in custody… alive!”
The soldiers moved in to seize him.
Jonathan ignored them all. He had a clear line of sight as he lifted his assault rifle toward the chirping console of Micolad.
JONATHAN RHODES… YOU ARE A TRAITOR… Micolad suddenly blurted out.
Jonathan was momentarily caught off guard by the machine as he lowered his sites briefly.
TRAITOR! TRAITOR! TRAITOR!
The soldiers were storming the platform.
“Shut the fuck up you mechanical psychopath!” Jonathan raised his weapon.
“No… wait! No one shoot!” Micom shouted.
Jonathan saw the flapping trench coat soar by him before he registered the cold steel which penetrated his neck.
He dropped the gun and stood there with his arms hanging to his side, like a broken marionette.
Copperfield hit the ground in front of Micolad. He then turned around so quickly with his sword already retracted, that the soldiers all stopped, fearing to get anywhere near the reach of his deadly blade.
All at once, Jonathan’s legs collapsed as his severed head fell from his shoulders and rolled off the platform, landing near Micom’s feet.
“I… said… I… wanted… him… ALIVE!” Micom shouted. “I wanted to question this maggot first and find out what Frank told him!”
Copperfield looked confused as he righted himself and quickly sheathed his weapon. He rarely spoke publicly, but he said, “He was about to shoot Micolad. I simply reacted to defend him.”
Micom quickly calmed down and shook his head. “Yes… yes… of course you did. You did the right thing…” He stared down at Jonathan’s head and wanted to smash it in with the heel of his boot. “No matter,” he finally said. “We’ll get what we need soon enough.” He looked around at the frightened soldiers and said, “Well done… all of you. We just stopped a madman and a terrorist from destroying our beloved Micolad. It was very good that we all helped keep an eye on our wayward soldier. Anyone who could betray their own blood, as Jonathan did, definitely warranted our suspicion. I want to thank the soldiers who came to me immediately when they were relieved down by the tank. Your quick thinking and prompt actions will be rewarded. You are all excused. Please return to your posts.”
The soldiers eagerly disbanded.
Copperfield approached as Micom turned and glared at him.
The strange little man simply shrugged his shoulders. “Do you want the soldiers to head down and retrieve the outsider now?”
“No, that won’t be necessary,” Micom said, stroking his beard. “His next move is predictable. Obviously they wanted our attention diverted away from the woman. Was she moved to the secondary location?”
Copperfield nodded.
He stopped to ponder an idea. Micom smiled and said, “Go fetch the red-head and have her chained to the big willow tree on the east side of the camp. Then, make sure the other outsider has a clear path up to get to her. Right before we ambush him, I want him to see her hanging up there so close to death.”
Copperfield nodded and started to depart.
“Oh… one more thing,” Micom said, looking down at Jonathan’s head, “Get someone to bag that for me. It might come in handy later.”
~~~
Frank cursed his size as he crawled uncomfortably through the sewage pipe. The smell alone was enough to make his stomach turn and served as ample motivation to make his strained arms and legs move faster to quickly escape the confined space. He’d been fortunate that this pipe had been shut down after Jonathan’s brother cracked it open and that most of the pre-existing waste had been cleared out. At least they can’t flush me to death, he thought as he tried not to think about what he was crawling through. He’d quickly decided that if he made it out of this mess alive somehow, that he would omit this part of the story to anyone who ever asked how he got away. If Greg were still alive, I’d never hear the end of his shitty puns after all this. He immediately regretted the thought as thinking about his dead friend led him to wonder how many more of his friends were now dead… and then he began to wonder when it was that he first started considering them ‘friends’ at all.
“Frank, you’ve let this crazy new world turn you soft,” he told himself. Surprisingly, he found that he could live with this… if living was still an option.
He noticed faint light from up ahead as he pushed himself to what he hoped was freedom.
As he inched closer, he saw the vertical shadows of metal bars.
“Fuck,” he said, not wanting to consider the possibility of trying to turn around and crawl back the way he came.
When he reached the end of the pipe, he was relieved to discover that the bars were much thinner than they appeared from a distance and that they were severely rusted out. He pressed his face against the bars and sucked in the fresh air. He scanned the area outside and noticed that the pipe was elevated above a stagnant pool of dark liquid and God only knew what else. The moon was out, providing him enough light to see that there were no monsters waiting for him… at least, none which were standing out in the open. There were tall weeds mixed in with the surrounding trees. It appeared that no one would see the pipe unless they were standing in the pool.
He examined the rusted bars, wrapped his hands around the weakest ones and began to shake them back and forth. They came off in his hands after four shakes. Caught a break. He pulled the remaining three bars out and looked down for a place to jump. He estimated that he was at least ten feet above the pool. He turned around on his back and pulled himself up to see that the sewer pipe was protruding out from a tall rock face. Above that, was the base of a ledge more than thirty feet up, which he assumed was where the fence surrounding the camp would be. He’d have to head down.
“Shit,” he hissed. Frank pulled himself out of the pipe and lowered himself down as far as he could before letting go. He hit the pool and sank in up to his waist. It felt like he’d landed in one huge mud puddle—minus the mud. The smell which struck him was ten times worse than in the pipe. “Ah… this is fucking disgusting!” He held his rifle up as he tried to move and noticed he was starting to sink.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” The shit-pool acted as quicksand.
The more he tried to move his legs, the further he sank. He was now covered in dung up to his armpits.
“Okay, don’t panic, you big fucking idiot,” he scolded himself. “Don’t let the Shit Monster kill you. Use your arms, not your fucking legs.” He laid the rifle across the surface of the nasty sludge and used his upper body strength to pull himself out toward the edge of the pool.
It worked. He crawled out of the asshole of the camp and into the weeds. Frank immediately stripped off the coveralls.
All the extra exertion was wearing him out again. But he needed to keep moving before Jonathan’s attack on the machine, and the alarm it would create, generated too much attention toward his location.
He took a minute to catch his breath and stared back up toward the pipe. He frowned as he suddenly felt much smaller than he did when he was in the pipe. I’m sorry, Gina. I’m so damn sorry that I’m the one who made it this far…
With fresh determination fueled by his frustration, Frank got up and scanned the moonlit woods. The night was deceptively still. I’ll get to your damn girl, he promised her. She better be worth all this trouble… and sacrifice.
He looked back toward the rock face. He could see part of the western fence along the top. Using the fence as a landmark to gain his bearings, Frank headed directly west to get as far from the camp as possible before the alarm went off.
Ten minutes later he discovered a dried up river-bed at the base of a small valley which wound around toward the south and then back up in a north-westerly direction. He decided to follow it, hoping the valley would help him escape notice when all hell broke loose.
Half-an-hour later, Frank was convinced Jonathan had failed. He never heard an alarm from the camp.
Well, can’t say I didn’t warn him.
Frank decided to stay along the river bed until it started drifting south again. He cautiously climbed out of the valley and heard the low rustle of a river.
I must be the luckiest mother-fucker in these woods. I should be something’s late night snack by now. He couldn’t figure out how he’d escaped the Shadow Dead’s notice for so long. He kept scanning the quiet woods as he crept from tree to tree, shadow to shadow… and then he spotted something strange. He started seeing large rocks spread across the woods as he got closer to the river.
Those aren’t fucking rocks.
He used the cover of the trees to get a closer look at the nearest one. That’s when he recognized the dormant zombie.
It was a heavy-set woman wearing the ragged remains of what looked like black lingerie which did very little to hide the folds of rotting flesh that fell out in various places. She was rolled up in a ball, appearing to be resting on her knees as she stared up at the moon. She was panting heavily. Her pale and bloody face shown clearly in the moonlight, as did her sickening but absent looking yellow orbs for eyes which seemed to be staring beyond the moon, perhaps into the hellish place it came from.
Fuck me! How the hell did these things get here?
He immediately lifted his rifle and scanned the entire area again. There were more rocks than he first noticed.
The woods were full of them.
Frank clearly understood that if this former woman’s expression suddenly changed, registering his presence, and if the others did the same… he was a dead man.
~~~