A Rapid Pace

I would love to say there was a plan at this point. To say that would be stretching things a bit. There was running. The only plan there might have been would be 'avoid the bear'. Not a bad plan under the circumstances but nothing grandiose at the same time.

I am not a good runner. I sit a lot, far too much, and don't do enough cardio work to make running easy.  Fear is a great motivator and got me moving. Once that adrenaline faded, so did my ability to keep moving. I know the old joke states that you don't need to outrun a bear, just your friends that are also trying to outrun the bear. I wheezed, my foot hit a patch of ground on an uneven level, twisted, stumbled, and nearly tumbled down this steeply inclined hill. On the plus side, this helped me catch up with the rest of the group, mostly for those nice enough to stop to check on me.

“You okay?” Dave was keen to know. I gasped for breath in response. I'm not sure he was even winded. I hate that. I tried nodding as they helped me up, somewhat aware that this motion might be lost amongst the other actions.

Once I reached my feet, I leaned up against the chunk of exposed rock that was the side of the hill and worked to catch my breath. Panic faded slightly, allowing my reason to began returning. “Where... where is it?” I wheezed.

Dave and Tina looked around, searching for the odd looking beast that had chased us. “I don't see it,” Dave noted.

“I don't hear it,” Tina added.

I managed a deep breath.”Did it give up?”

“Possibly,” answered Dave. “Bears are defensive creatures. Generally speaking they don't attack for the sake of attacking.”

“What was this bear defending when it attacked us?” Tina demanded.

Dave shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno.” He considered this for a moment. “It was a bit small and baggy looking. Maybe it was sick?”

“Maybe,” Tina agreed. “I'm no vet. It would make sense if it was lashing out in blind pain. Or explain the lack of expression on its face.”

“Hey,” I interjected, “is this rock vibrating or is it just me?”

Dave laughed. “Are you that shook up from some running? That's just...” He stopped his mockery upon feeling the rock. “It is vibrating. Or pulsing or something.”

“Why would that be happening?” Tina wondered.

“I don't know but I think we should find out.”

A Clue?

“This makes no sense,” Karen declared. “Why are we doing this?” All of my limited interaction with her has been unpleasant. It's still not clear to me if this was her way of dealing with unpleasant circumstances, to retain control of them, or if she was just an unpleasant person.

I stomped towards the garage, the others trailing behind me. “Because I feel we're being told something about what's going on here but we aren't hearing it.”

Karen had no issue expressing her thoughts on this matter. “Are you nuts?”

“Probably!” We piled into the garage. It was a large structure with space for at least a couple vehicles, a handful of off-road vehicles, and a large tool bench. Upon this tool bench is where we had laid Tim's corpse. A figure still lay there beneath a tarp.

For a moment, no one spoke. There was some sniffing and loud breathing, but no speech. Tina fought through her tears to ask “What are we looking at?”

Dave quietly answered. “That's where we left Tim to rest.”

“He hasn't got much rest so far,” Jeff commented.

Slowly I approached the bench, prepared for the possibility that the prone figure might suddenly move but continuing on as if it would not. “Are you nuts?” Jeff hissed.

“I believe I answered that question already,” I murmured. I lifted the tarp. Tim lay below it, motionless.

Some sounds of disgust met this action. “Is this really necessary?” Karen demanded.

“Yes, I think so,” I pondered, forcing myself to stare at the corpse before me, looking for the clue my brain kept telling me was there.

“He doesn't look like he's been up walking,” Dave declared.

“What should he look like if he was up walking?” asked Jeff.

“I don't know,” Dave responded, “but that's not it.”

Tina sniffed. “He looks congealed.”

“He doesn't, doesn't he?” My brain recognized this as a piece of the puzzle but I knew I had to keep my mouth running in order to motivate my brain. “Congealed. Stopped. Collecting. But yet a few moments ago we sat him upright and fresh.” I dropped the tarp. “There's a difference, isn't there?”

“Was it yet the way the sun was illuminating him?” Jeff conjectured.

“I don't think so.” Images of the freshly wounded looking Zombie Tim flashed through my brain. “There's a difference between the two.”

“Two?” Dave echoed. “How are there two? Why would there be two? Someone's imitating him?”

“It seems likely. This Tim is changing, settling, solidifying. The Tim we saw outside was in motion, fresh looking, like... like a snapshot of that last moment.”

Karen huffed. “This is stupid. Let's just go to the police. It's their job to figure out why this happened and who's doing it, not us.”

Chris cleared his throat quietly. “She has a point. Let's get the professionals in.”

I nodded. “Yes. Yes of course.”

As we exited the garage, Karen's mouth kept moving. She grumbled about the delay in departing, how dumb us men were to speculate about these impossible things, and started discussing where we might go after dealing with the police. Once we were outside, a weird looking bear emerged from the trees, swatted Karen to the ground, and growled loudly. Then there was a lot of running.

She Ought Not Have Done That

Tim's reappearance did not bode well. Whatever might have been causing his reappearance, the message that his presence gave was clear to me: Don't leave.

This did complicate the situation slightly. We were going to report Tim's death via accident, a believable occurrence, but here we had a walking, well, shambling, undead Tim, which was less believable. We should be able to plow him over with the car as we left but would there be more behind him? Would car crash damage to his person make it look like we had something to injure him? A good coroner would be able to tell the difference but who know if that would be the case? Or would the evidence be twisted against us? It was unlikely but unreasonable people are plentiful.

I blame these considerations running through my head for distracting me when Janet reacted to Tim's presence. I don't know what thoughts went through went through her mind when she broke away from us and ran to Tim. Perhaps her tortured mind no longer saw the damage to his face or the unsteadiness of his stance. Perhaps she just saw Tim, saw him upright, and thought the events of yesterday were just a nightmare. Whatever her logic, she bolted from us and we were unable to stop her from reaching Tim.

She reached out to embrace him. He reached out to slash open her throat. Of the two, Tim was the one that succeed. Having accomplished this, he shuffled to the front of the cabin.

Moments later we were around Janet. Chris, as it turns out, is an EMT so, as he was one with the most medical training, the rest of us did out best to stay out of his way. Jeff and I did a quick look around for Zombie Tim but found nothing. Nothing visible anyway.

“There's that smell again,” I noted. “The one we noticed when we found Tim originally.”

“Yeah, I smell it too,” Jeff agreed. “Dry but sweet. You'd think there'd be a foul edge to it, of rotting. Nothing strong yet something.”

We were nearly back to the rest of the group. “Its almost...” I struggled to process the smell into words. “Like lavender and something.” Saying the words aloud made them sound familiar. “I know that description. Why do I know that description?”

Chris' declaration broke my train of thought. “She's dead.”

Morning Dawns

The evening quieted. The 'attack' was not repeated. Nor did it begin to make any more sense. I mean, it was clearly a zombie, not built for speed, so where did it get to? We all managed to go to bed or whatever but I don't know if anyone really slept. I dozed but I can't say that I slept. I rested. When the sun no longer allowed me to rest, I was still tired.

Slowly we got up and got going. There was a quietness to us, as if we were waiting for the next thing to happen, as if knowing we'd be attacked whilst munching on toast. Janet ate, which seemed to be a good sign. She also managed a little smile at one point. Small progress.

While still early, we made our way outside to the vehicles. We were all heading to town to speak with the police. No one wanted to be left behind in the cabin near the corpse. I blinked in the sunlight and stretched, trying to wake up a bit more. Fighting a yawn, I turned and looked down the driveway towards the road. There stood Tim. Or Zombie Tim.

Whichever.

Wha Ha?

Thankfully it wasn't too dark outside. The moon was full enough to reflect light down upon us. Light bled from the house to illuminate a zone around the building. I moved quickly but quietly, checking the shadows, moving towards the back of the cabin.

Once I got near the back, I slowed, not wanting to burst in on the possible zombie horde. I could hear murmuring from the back room and the occasional tap on the door. Good guys. Good help.

Slowly, carefully, I leaned around the side of the building to locate the creature.

I saw nothing.

I paused from confusion. How did that happen? Slowly I moved around the side of the building, searching for the zombie that we'd all seen. Nothing.

Cautiously I searched the 'backyard' area. Nothing. I approached the garage. The door was still locked as we had left it. I circled the building but found no trace of an exit.

We saw the creature at the back door. We heard the creature at the back door. So where did it go?

Quietly, confused, I returned to the cabin via the back door. Distracted as I was, I never thought twice about entering the cabin, but should have as I walked in and was immediately assaulted about the head and neck. Once I protested, the assault ceased. Dave managed to look more sheepish than Jeff. “Sorry.”

“I appreciate you looking to see who you were attacking before attacking,” I grumbled. “Golf clubs?”

“They were handy,” Dave noted.

Ouch.

A Plan

Do you ever have those moments where your normal is not the normal of the people around you? You say something you consider no big deal and other people get very excited or laugh or freak out in response. Or even the people around you say something and you're suddenly reminded that everyone doesn't think exactly like you do. It's not generally a bad thing. Most of the time its a good thing because you can learn something from the experience.

I made my declaration rather matter-of-factly. There appeared to be a zombie outside and I reported that to the group. I didn't want to make it sound like “Oh it's Thursday so here come the zombies” but I have seen enough strange things where one zombie appearing is not all that earth shattering, especially when I anticipated the possibility.

Now, the rest of my group must not have my experience in such like things. There was some confusion. There was some disbelief. There was a lot of panic. The confusion and disbelief could easily be dealt with by displaying the creature on the other side of the door. The panic was not so easy to dispel.

“But, but, but... that's impossible,” Dave sputtered.

“Improbable at least,” Jeff revised.

I just gave them a look. “Don't make me mis-quote Shakespeare. If its just this one, we should be okay.”

“But a zombie?” Dave checked. “That's not a problem?”

“A zombie,” I repeated, emphasizing the 'a' in my statement. “Not so much. If it was a zombie bear, that might be a problem. I'd rather face a dozen zombies than any vampires.”

“Vampires don't exist,” Dave informed me.

“Hey, some of my best friends are vampires,” I retorted.

“Very funny,” Dave responded.

Jeff considered this for a moment. “I don't think he's kidding.”

“And I'm not. Reinsert Shakespeare mis-quote here.” I'd located a shovel amongst the junk in the back closet. “This should do. Keep its attention here so I can sneak up on it.” To the 'how?' question I received, I answered “Tap on the door window occasionally to keep its attention here while I sneak around the cabin behind it.” Before I could receive any further protests or questions, I headed for the front door and outside.

What was that?

Things quieted down at that point. There was discussion about having a search for the bear or for evidence of a bear but it was dismissed as it was getting dark and we didn't know what we'd do if we found a bear. We tried to call the police to report what happened but the cabin phone didn't work and we couldn't get a signal on our mobile devices. We decided to run into town in the morning and report in person. It would keep until then.

Have you ever been without your communication technology recently? For that matter, have you been deprived of any technology recently? Its one thing to have to avoid meddling with your mobcomm for an hour during a meeting, its another thing entirely to have your computer break and be without it for a day or two. Or have your television break? You feel lost. Confused. It totally disrupts your schedule. You never realize how accustomed you become to certain things until they're gone. Suddenly, you can't double check any information because you can't get to the interwebs. If you're playing a game and lose your connection to it, the withdrawal can quickly become very painful.

This was the position we were in. Being unable to communicate our need for assistance was quite irritating, frustrating even. Logically, there was nothing else we could do but that didn't stop us from feeling the need to do something about it. At least the satellite television was functioning properly. That helped take my mind off of what had happened.

I don't mean to sound insensitive but I didn't really know the fella. Prior to today, I may have met him once or twice in passing. Now that he'd passed, my opinion of him didn't really change because I didn't really know him. Unfortunately I'd been in the presence of violent death before. While I felt bad about the situation, I was able to move on rather quickly. As the 'kids' both knew him well and were not so used to this sort of thing happening, they were more shook up. While they sat in the big room discussing this occurrence and the life lost, I stayed out of their way by watching television.

I'm not sure if it was the best idea under the circumstances. My belief that staying out of other people's way is helpful is sometimes interpreted as not wanting to help. It's not a lack of interest, just ability. I saw no good way to actively make things better so I got out of the way. Am I protesting too much? Probably. I sat there watching some sitcom that was so predictable it was irritating and tried to not think about the way Tim's face had been shredded.

There was a knock on the door.

It was a faint, soft sound that made me turn but was clearly my imagination. I returned my attention to commercials for products I neither needed nor wanted.

There was a knock on the door.

This time it was louder, more distinct, less of a knocking and more of a pounding. That didn't bode well. I spun in the chair and worked to peek out the window in order to see who might be at the door. I had a bad angle on the situation and couldn't see.

There was a pounding on the door.

I bounded from the chair, filled with the electric feeling that I was about to do something incredibly stupid. Even with this awareness, I still approached the door, I just did so with some caution. Carefully I moved the curtain covering the window in the door as little as possible but as much as I needed in order to see out. There stood Tim, well, slouched Tim, strips of meat dangling from his damaged face. He did not look well.

I backed away from the door and found that the pounding had attracted the attention of others as I bumped into Dave. After a quick apology, Dave asked what was going on.

“I think we have a zombie on our hands,” I explained.