The homeless man floundered for a moment on the zombie’s lap, trying to orient himself. Then he launched himself to his feet and made a stumbling leap away from the zombie. He ran right into Scott, who grabbed him and flung him to the floor, his anger and fury rising. “Goddamit!”
The homeless man cast his gaze up at the four boys crowding around him, his eyes showing confusion, a sense of pleading. “Don’t hurt me, man…please…”
“Shut up!” Scott yelled. He lashed out with one well-placed kick to the man’s stomach.
The homeless man doubled over in pain. That kick seemed to awaken Dave’s own urge for violence; he kicked the homeless man in the thigh and the small of his back. The homeless man screamed and tried to hobble away. The zombie made that keening whine again, cowering against the far wall of the room.
Scott was consumed with rage. It wasn’t supposed to work this way! The zombie was supposed to eat this guy! “Gordon, what the fuck?”
“What?”
“You said the zombie was supposed to eat this guy?”
“I never said that, I only said that it might!”
“Bullshit!”
The homeless man made a scrambled attempt at escape during the exchange. He crawled between the arguing boys and began to make a mad dash toward the door.
Steve lunged for him, grabbed him by his T-shirt and hauled him back.
Scott and David joined in the fray and closed in on him.
Scott couldn’t help it. He felt himself unleashing all his pent-up fury on him. All his rage, hate, and anger. As his fists crashed into the homeless man’s face and chest he felt the anger leave his body slowly. All the frustration, all the hate, all geared toward people like him…it all began to dissipate the more he pounded on the bum. Steve held on to him as Scott and David pummeled the man. Gordon was the only one to not participate. He stood in the corner, watching them.
The homeless man kept trying to get away but he quickly succumbed to the crushing blows that were falling on him. He tried to deflect them by raising his arms, covering his head, cowering in on himself, but it was no use. In short order he was on the ground and David and Scott were kicking him over and over and over and–
“Okay, okay, that’s enough, stop!”
Scott didn’t know who was telling them to stop at first. It came as a distant call, as a disembodied voice from far away. What made him stop was his own fatigue. He was tired.
He stopped, trying to catch his breath. His arms hurt, his fists were numb. His entire body was still thrumming with adrenalin. He looked around; David stood across from him glaring down at the bum, his fists still clenched. Steve stood nearby, his chest heaving with exertion — had he joined in too? Gordon appeared to be the only one who hadn’t participated in the melee. He was standing behind Steve, an agitated look on his face. Behind them all, on the opposite side of the room, the zombie cowered against the corner, making those strange whining noises. “He’s had enough,” Gordon said. Scott put two and two together now; it was Gordon who’d yelled out to stop it. “He’s knocked out.”
“He’s more than knocked out,” Steve said, looking worried as he took a step closer to peer down at the homeless guy. He bent down, rolled the man over and gasped. He looked up at the others. “He’s dead!”
“The fuck you mean, he’s dead?” Scott asked. He was getting pissed off again.
“He ain’t fucking breathing!”
“We didn’t beat on him that much,” Dave said.
“It doesn’t take much to kill somebody, either,” Steve said. “You already knocked him out in Harrisburg. Maybe that…you know…helped things…”
Scott took a step back. “You sure he’s dead?”
Dave knelt down and picked up the dead man’s arm. He pressed his fingers against his wrist. There was an uncomfortable moment of silence as Dave took the man’s pulse, then he looked at Scott. “He’s dead.” His expression was dead-pan. Expressionless.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Scott’s fury exploded and it had to be released. He went after the most likely target. He lunged toward the dead man and kicked him again, once, twice, a third time. Each time he kicked him he yelled, “shit,” spending his pent-up anger and aggression. Dave and Steve stepped back, giving him his space as Scott released his frustration and rage.
When it was finally over Scott staggered away, trying to catch his breath. He leaned against the wall, totally spent. The others stood silently, not looking at each other. Only the zombie in the corner made any noise. Its whining was subsiding as it sat on the floor, looking at them with that same fearful expression.
“Now what the hell are we going to do?” Scott asked.
“Is it too late to bury him at Zuck’s Woods?” Dave shot a look at Gordon.
Scott looked at Gordon, too.
Gordon was still standing away from the other three boys, a strange look on his face. He looked down at the homeless guy. “You want to take him tonight?”
“Yeah,” Scott said, the idea taking root, settling in, making itself comfortable. “We still got time, don’t we? What time is it?”
Steve glanced at his watch. “It’s only eleven-thirty.”
“We have just enough time to get there and do it!” Scott was getting excited. This would work!
Gordon was shaking his head. “I don’t know. I mean…the preparation…the stuff I have to do first — ”
“You already did that before you brought the first bum back from the dead,” Scott said. “And we don’t have to bury him that far below ground. Just a few feet is all, and we’ll camp out there tonight and be there for when he digs himself out tomorrow morning.”
“Camp out?” Gordon was looking at Scott as if he’d lost his mind. Was Gordon getting chickenshit? It was hard to tell because Scott had never known Gordon to be a complete pussy.
“Yeah, camp out.” Scott clapped Steve on the back, motioning him to action. “Come on, you can call your folks on your cell on the way over. We’ll just grab the shovels and get going.”
“We’re not going to need to perform that ritual again, are we?” Dave asked.
“We shouldn’t have to.” Scott glanced at Gordon for confirmation as Steve bent over the dead homeless man and dragged his feet to a more linear position. “Right, Gord?”
“No, I don’t think we have to,” Gordon said. He took a step forward, peering at the dead guy. He still had that look about him, and the closest Scott could come to describing it was worry. Gordon’s brow was creased, his face set in a frown. “But we gotta do it quick.”
“Let’s go,” Scott said.
They moved quickly, like a team that had performed this task numerous times. Steve and Dave carried the body outside and deposited it in the back of the SUV while Scott collected the shovels from the utility shed. He grabbed a roll of duct tape and called Gordon over.
“Take these to the SUV,” he said, handing over the shovels.
“What are you gonna do with that duct tape?”
“Tape that fucking zombie’s mouth shut in case he makes those weird-ass noises while we’re gone.”
When Scott climbed into the SUV a minute later, the digital numerals on the dashboard clock read 11:37 pm. Scott pulled the vehicle out of the driveway and turned on the headlights as they exited the development.
“This better fucking work,” Scott said as they drove toward the outskirts of town.
“It worked last time, didn’t it?” Gordon said. He was seated beside Scott in the front seat of the SUV. Dave and Steve were in the back, staying silent. The tension in the vehicle was thick, heavy with anxiety. There was a lot riding on this tonight. In a way, Scott supposed it was a good thing the guy was dead. That was the eventual plan for him all along. It just wasn’t supposed to have happened so quickly. His unexpected demise had come as a surprise and, therefore, this hastily-arranged burial ritual had not been on the agenda tonight. Their alibis were compromised, for one thing. The other three boys’ parents knew they were spending the evening with Scott. That was about all they knew. And should they get pulled over by a cop–