Donners of the Dead

His eyes were lying.

We were surrounded by the living dead—how ever could we be all right?

We waited. It felt like forever.

The scratching continued, nails being run up and down the cabin walls. I wondered why on earth they were doing that, why they didn’t just come in and take us. Were they trying to frighten us? Were they too weak, gone too long without human meat, and this was the best they could do?

It was driving me mad. The scratching, those depraved moans and snaps from drooling mouths. Jake and I were trapped, completely surrounded, and we never knew when they were going to attack.

Then finally something happened.

The door to the cabin slowly swung open. We couldn’t see who or what had opened it. There was a thump.

A pale, spindly arm reached through the open door, long clawlike nails dragging on the dirt floor.

I gasped as another arm followed suit. Together they pulled along the ground until a torso came into view. It carried the face of death—hollow cheeks, pronounced bones stretched across wrinkled skin, thi

I raised the rifle at it and took aim.

“Blow its head off,” Jake said gruffly.

I pulled the trigger.

The bullet shot out in a black puff, the force rocking me back, but I had prepared for it this time. It struck the monster right in the head, and at that close range, it practically turned his brains into mud—red mud that splattered on the walls behind us and plopped down onto the floor.

“Nice shot,” Jake commented, one brow cocked. “I knew you were a natural.”

I smiled uneasily but there was no time to take pride in it. Though the scratching and moans stopped momentarily after the gunshot, they quickly started up again, louder this time and more menacing.

I looked at Jake, wishing I had more courage. “I have a feeling that the others won’t be so easy.”

“Well they obviously know we’re in here. What do you want to do? I don’t reckon we can hide in here forever. Something’s got to give. I’ve been in enough standoffs to know that.” He took the rifle from me and quickly began to reload the muzzle.

My body felt numb with fear. I wanted to close my eyes and wish the situation away. I wanted to be anywhere else but in this cabin, surrounded by creatures who wanted a taste of my flesh for their own attempt at immortality. I thought about Isaac and wondered if it had been worth it. If it had been worth it to kill Tim and eat him in hopes of living forever. It hadn’t worked for him—he hadn’t eaten enough of the stew to become fully monstrous even though he had been a monster to begin with. I wondered about the beasts outside, if they had all turned because they wanted a chance of survival, or if they were like Hank and Isaac and wanted a chance of being something more than human. Something completely inhuman.

He handed the rifle back to me then brought out the revolver from his holster, the axe in his other hand. We were a poorly armed ragtag team, but if the rest of the monsters were as decrepit as the last one, if there weren’t that many of them, then maybe we had a chance in hell.

I made a move toward the door when Jake stuck his arm out and held me back. He nodded at the fire. “When all else fails, I believe fire will work just as well.”

“I can’t exactly hold a torch around all this gunpowder, can I?”

“That’s why I said, when all else fails.”

I took in a deep breath. If we failed, we failed. There were no other options when you’re dead. Well, unless you wanted to become a monster. I know I certainly didn’t, even if it did mean a way to prolong my life.

All of a sudden the moaning and the scratching stopped. We looked at each other in wonder. I breathed in. The stench was still there, still pungent. There may have been no noise but they were definitely still outside the cabin.

Waiting.

I took in a deep breath, tightened my grip on the rifle, and walked toward the door. I had to know. I had to get this over with.

In unison, Jake and I stepped together into the doorframe, weapons drawn.

The sight took my breath away and replaced it with pure primal fear.

There were over a dozen monsters standing outside the cabin, staggered about, all of them facing us with expressions of hunger and mindless hate. Some were as close as ten feet away, close enough for me to note the glassiness of their eyes, the way their hair was falling out of their heads, the way their bare, blue cold feet shriveled in the snow. Their mouths were open, drooling, with grey tongues lolling around beside black gums.

All of them wanted to eat us.

We didn’t even get to make the first move.

The closest one lurched forward, long, spindly hands clawing for us beneath a snapping mouth.

Jake stepped in front and to the side of me, and with a war cry, swung the axe like a bat. It cleanly sliced the monster’s head right off so that it flew backward into the snow.

There wasn’t a moment to appreciate it. Now the monsters were staggering forward toward us, some faster than others, some looking more human. All were terrifying in their depraved addiction.

I screamed as one lunged for me and pounced at my feet, grabbing hold of my leg and trying to bite it. It felt too dangerous to shoot him without blasting my own leg off so I kicked him in the head with my other boot until he let go, his fingernails digging so deep into my skin that he ripped away the hem of my dress and the bottom of my pants.

Meanwhile, Jake was trying to take on two of them that had leaped for him at the last minute. He lobbed one head off but was tackled to the ground by the other, and in too close to properly swing the axe. I was wondering how risky it was for me to shoot and hope not to hit Jake when he managed to get an arm free and shoved the barrel of the revolver in the monster’s open mouth. He gri

The zombie came back for my legs but Jake was able to throw off the decapitated one and get a good swing with the axe, chopping the monster right in half, intestines spilling out like ribbons. Unfortunately, it did nothing to slow the monster down, and it kept on going for my leg with its angry teeth and nails.

Jake reached down and pulled the monster back by its wiry white hair so its wrinkled grey-white throat was exposed. Before I realized what he was doing, he’d brought out the sharp Bowie knife and started slicing through the neck, spilling crimson rivulets of blood.

I looked away from the sight just in time to see another monster coming for us. With shaking hands, I brought the rifle up to my line of sight, but the movement from the monster at my legs was putting me off balance. If I missed, it would take time to reload and we may not even have the chance to.

The monster was right at us, its dead, leering eyes fixated on Jake. Just as it was about to reach him, Jake finished slicing through the other monster’s head. He turned and threw the knife at the attacker, getting him right through the eye where it remained lodged. I was free to move, and it gave Jake enough time to get back and swing the axe. This time the axe went right down the middle, splitting the head and brain into two neat halves.

We watched, our breaths in our throats, before the monster fell to the side, dead.

All victories were short-lived. The monsters kept coming, still about a dozen of them. Jake did what he could with the axe and I tried to save my shot for when it really counted. After he beheaded three more and still more came after us, he threw a crazed look back to the cabin.

“I can’t keep this up,” he said breathlessly. “We need to get my revolver reloaded. There are paper cartridges in the pack inside. If we bar the door, perhaps we can buy some more time before we take the rest of them out.”