and stepped out to stretch his legs. They still had another hour or so on the road before they reached the game park. As hot as the interior of the car had been, it was nothing compared to the oven-like heat outside. It rose from the ground and blazed down from the sky. Sweat instantly appeared on his back and brow, then dried just as quickly. He drank more water, deeply aware that to be out here without it was almost certainly a death sentence.
Johan joined him, lighting up a cigarette as he leaned against the vehicle, seemingly impervious to the heat. Eric’s gaze meandered over the cemetery. He was fascinated by the structures and wondering how far the natives who’d built it had to go to get the iron bars that walled in the individual plots. Certainly far enough to be a hassle, not to mention expensive.
They must really have wanted to protect their dead or—
Eric put a hand above his eyes to cut down the glare from the sun.
“I thought you said this place was dead.” He pointed past the baobab trees into the back end of the graveyard. Unless he was seeing his first mirage, there were at least two people wandering around back there, maybe more.
Johan glanced in that direction. He frowned, and then shrugged.
“Looks like someone has moved back, perhaps.”
“What are they doing?”
“Tending the graves, perhaps.” He took a drag on his cigarette.
At that moment Nancy screamed.
Eric took off running without a second thought. Nancy
never
screamed. She was the most unflappable woman he’d ever met, dealing with dangerous situations, injury and illness with a calm competence that a battlefield medic would envy.
He reached the first two huts, almost colliding with her as she pelted around the corner, her face chalk-white under its dusting of freckles. Eric grabbed her by the shoulders to steady her.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. We need to go.”
“But—”
“Now,
Eric!” Nancy dislodged his hands from her shoulders, and curled her fingers around one of his wrists in a vice-like grip, pulling him along as she headed for the car.
“What—”
Nancy shook her head. “No time!”
A guttural sound of agony ripped through the air.
Eric and Nancy skidded to a stop.
Johan squirmed on the ground next to the 4X4, three badly emaciated figures in ragged native garb kneeling next to him. They were ripping pieces out of his body with fingers that looked more like bony talons. Talons dripping with blood and pieces of Johan’s flesh.
Johan howled as one of the creatures—they couldn’t be human, could they?—dug a hand deep into his stomach. All Eric could think as he watched their driver’s intestines being pulled out inch by agonizing inch was that special effects had nothing on real life.
A puff of wind brought a rich, foul smell of fecal matter and blood wafting on the air. Eric gagged, trying not to throw up. Then the sound of slow, relentless footsteps behind them made it easier for him to keep his gorge down.
Two more of the rotting figures approached them, eyes filmed over a milky white—corpse eyes, mouths opening and closing with never-ending hunger.
“Run,” Nancy said.
She yanked on his arm and headed straight for the 4X4, evading one of the kneeling corpses as it reached for her, and dodging around the rear of the vehicle to the passenger’s side. Several other walking horrors approached from the opposite side of the road, their gait slow and implacable.
Nancy threw open the front door and scrambled across the passenger’s seat to the driver’s side, slamming the locks shut on the door as one of the corpses, blood and gore dripping from its mouth, staggered to its feet and splatted its hands against the window.
Eric leaped into the shotgun seat, closing the door and hitting the lock as Nancy turned the keys that were dangling in the ignition. She revved the motor, and hit the gas. The 4X4 fishtailed briefly before its tires gripped the road.
“What the
Johan joined him, lighting up a cigarette as he leaned against the vehicle, seemingly impervious to the heat. Eric’s gaze meandered over the cemetery. He was fascinated by the structures and wondering how far the natives who’d built it had to go to get the iron bars that walled in the individual plots. Certainly far enough to be a hassle, not to mention expensive.
They must really have wanted to protect their dead or—
Eric put a hand above his eyes to cut down the glare from the sun.
“I thought you said this place was dead.” He pointed past the baobab trees into the back end of the graveyard. Unless he was seeing his first mirage, there were at least two people wandering around back there, maybe more.
Johan glanced in that direction. He frowned, and then shrugged.
“Looks like someone has moved back, perhaps.”
“What are they doing?”
“Tending the graves, perhaps.” He took a drag on his cigarette.
At that moment Nancy screamed.
Eric took off running without a second thought. Nancy
never
screamed. She was the most unflappable woman he’d ever met, dealing with dangerous situations, injury and illness with a calm competence that a battlefield medic would envy.
He reached the first two huts, almost colliding with her as she pelted around the corner, her face chalk-white under its dusting of freckles. Eric grabbed her by the shoulders to steady her.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. We need to go.”
“But—”
“Now,
Eric!” Nancy dislodged his hands from her shoulders, and curled her fingers around one of his wrists in a vice-like grip, pulling him along as she headed for the car.
“What—”
Nancy shook her head. “No time!”
A guttural sound of agony ripped through the air.
Eric and Nancy skidded to a stop.
Johan squirmed on the ground next to the 4X4, three badly emaciated figures in ragged native garb kneeling next to him. They were ripping pieces out of his body with fingers that looked more like bony talons. Talons dripping with blood and pieces of Johan’s flesh.
Johan howled as one of the creatures—they couldn’t be human, could they?—dug a hand deep into his stomach. All Eric could think as he watched their driver’s intestines being pulled out inch by agonizing inch was that special effects had nothing on real life.
A puff of wind brought a rich, foul smell of fecal matter and blood wafting on the air. Eric gagged, trying not to throw up. Then the sound of slow, relentless footsteps behind them made it easier for him to keep his gorge down.
Two more of the rotting figures approached them, eyes filmed over a milky white—corpse eyes, mouths opening and closing with never-ending hunger.
“Run,” Nancy said.
She yanked on his arm and headed straight for the 4X4, evading one of the kneeling corpses as it reached for her, and dodging around the rear of the vehicle to the passenger’s side. Several other walking horrors approached from the opposite side of the road, their gait slow and implacable.
Nancy threw open the front door and scrambled across the passenger’s seat to the driver’s side, slamming the locks shut on the door as one of the corpses, blood and gore dripping from its mouth, staggered to its feet and splatted its hands against the window.
Eric leaped into the shotgun seat, closing the door and hitting the lock as Nancy turned the keys that were dangling in the ignition. She revved the motor, and hit the gas. The 4X4 fishtailed briefly before its tires gripped the road.
“What the
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