The Zombie of Willowbury Woods
By Trevor De---
[Not telling my whole last name]
By Trevor De---
[Not telling my whole last name]
“You be home in time for lunch!” Billy Rayburn’s mother called to him as he rode his bicycle out of the expansive front yard. Twelve-year-old Billy gave his Mom a wave without looking back to acknowledge that he had heard her.
Billy was in a hurry to get to Steve Simm’s house so they could get their Saturday morning adventure underway. The plan was to head down to the rock quarry near the river and do some hardcore rock skipping. The quarry held a gold mine of flat, polished river rocks that were absolutely perfect for skipping.
Leaving his front yard, Billy paused along the highway and looked both ways for traffic, short blonde hair blowing in the breeze. Seeing none at 7:30 in the morning was no surprise, so Billy crossed over and entered Willowbury Woods on the other side. The bike trail through the trees that Billy was using had been there for ages. It was originally meant as walking paths for nearby campers, but the campground had been shut down for over a decade. The paths through the forest remained however, often used by local children to get from here to there.
Billy’s familiarity with the path enabled him to go full blast on his Schwinn, even around sharp curves. He knew this trail like the back of his hand. He also knew Stevie would be waiting for him already, anxious to get on with their adventure. So, Billy was pedaling like a madman, trying to make the eight-minute trek in six.
Up ahead was what the local kids called Dead Man’s Curve; a place where just about everyone had wiped out at one time or another. It was at the bottom of a hill where you could really gather up speed. If you didn’t get hard on the brakes at the bottom, the sharp curve would send you and your bike headlong into a nasty thicket of brambles. Billy had felt their wrath before and wasn’t about to repeat the feat again this morning. He was pressing hard on his brakes only halfway down the hill, trying to slow his momentum. It was a good thing he did, because there was more than just Dead Man’s Curve waiting for him at the bottom of the hill. There was also a body, laying directly in the trail.
Billy continued to put pressure on his brakes; as much as he could without taking a spill. He looked for an alternate path around the body in case he couldn’t get stopped in time. Unfortunately, Dead Man’s Curve was already tight without adding a six-foot-long obstacle across it. Billy decided that the brambles were the only place he had to go.
He managed to get his bike slowed down considerably before he actually left the path. The front wheel caught in a thick shrub, propelling Billy over the handlebars where he landed seat-first in some of the brambles.
“Ah, ouch,” he said to himself. It wasn’t as bad of a wreck as he had last summer on that turn, but any landing in the brambles meant an orchestra of cuts and scrapes by default. Billy shook the cobwebs out of his head and stood up, surveying the damage to himself. Surprisingly, he came out of the spill rather well. A few scrapes on his arms, one on his belly where a branch had poked through his shirt and a few on his bottom where even his denim jeans weren’t enough to fend off some resident thorns.
His bike was upside down, leaning against a thornberry bush. He retrieved his mount from the shrubbery and walked it back out on the trail near the body. He flipped down the kickstand and looked at the man lying there. He looked to be in his early twenties. His face was very pale, and his long, black hair was matted with a thick gooey substance that Billy thought might be blood.
“Looks like he got shot in the head,” he told himself, taking another couple of steps closer. He noticed the eyes on the man were closed. He wondered about that. He saw on television that when people died their eyes usually remained open. Usually. Not all the time though. The prone figure did not appear to be breathing either. Billy looked intently at the blue denim jacket covering his chest. No movement was visible, but it was also stained with the thick dark goo that soaked his hair. This guy was dead. Billy was sure of it.
He picked up a fallen tree branch from beside the trail. He didn’t want to touch the body, or really get anywhere near it. He used the long stick to poke at the body several times. Still no movement.
“Oh my God, you really are dead. Aren’t you?” Billy said to the body. A shiver ran up his spine. “Oh man, Stevie ain’t gonna believe this!” He hopped back on his Schwinn and continued his journey to Steve’s house; this time pedaling even faster with the adrenaline pumping through his veins.
Stevie Simms was already sitting on his own bike, waiting for Billy in his front yard. He had a backpack on with a couple of sodas and some graham crackers in it for a snack later on. Rock skipping could really make a kid hungry! When Billy came screeching to a halt in front of him, he could see the shock and wonder in the boy’s blue eyes.
“Man, you wouldn’t believe what I just saw!” Billy gasped.
“What’s that Billy? Another girlie magazine in your Dad’s camper?” Stevie quipped, showing a sly smile below his thick brown hair and eyebrows.
“No way man, even better!”
“Well, spit it out man. I’m waiting.”
“I just saw a dead body!”
Stevie’s eyes widened at the prospect. “You’re kiddin’ me man.”
“Nope. He’s laying right in the middle of Dead Man’s Curve!”
“Are ya sure he’s dead?”
“Pretty sure. He is all covered in goo. Looks like dried blood.”
“Man, I’ve gotta see this,” Stevie said, dropping the backpack on his front porch. “If we’re going to look at a dead body, I don’t think we’ll need any snacks!”
“Let’s go man, before someone else finds him!” Billy urged.
The two boys barreled out of Stevie’s yard and headed back for Willowbury Woods. And Dead Man’s Curve.
“He sure looks dead,” Stevie agreed as the boys stood over the body.
“I told ya, man!”
“Imagine that, Rayburn. A dead body lying in the middle of Dead Man’s Curve. How ironic is that?”
“Ironic? It’s creepy, man!”
“Maybe we should poke him with something, just to be sure.”
“I already did that. He didn’t move an inch.”
“Well, I’m going to get a closer look!” Stevie moved forward a few steps, standing directly beside the body. He bent over the dead man’s face and cocked his head quizzically. “You know, Rayburn, I think I know this guy.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. I saw him in the Dew Drop Inn talking to my big brother last year. They were both drinking beer at the bar.”
“You know his name?”
“Dude, I think this is Art Downing’s big brother, Kevin.”
“Holy moly!” Art Downing was a schoolmate of Billy and Steve’s. He came from a large family that was notorious for their drinking and fighting. Art was pretty cool, but his brothers could be real buttholes. “You think he ticked someone off and they offed him?”
“Sure looks like it!” Stevie exclaimed. “We should see if he has any money!”
“Are you crazy? I ain’t robbing no dead body! Not for any amount of money!”
“What you scared of, Rayburn? Touching a dead body? He’s dead man; he can’t do anything to you.”
“Still, it’s stealing, Stevie. I don’t think we should do that.”
“Like he is going to need it,” Stevie pointed out. “Where this guy is going, he’s gonna need a wooden box and a big hole in the ground. He won’t need money down there.”
“Well, I dunno,” Billy still hesitated.
“I’m going to check his pockets.” Stevie knelt down next to the body. Billy could see his hands were shaking like leaves in the wind. Billy knew his friend was scared spitless, but he admired his guts sometimes. Stevie was just one of those kids that faced his fears head-on. Something Billy Rayburn lacked internally.
Stevie took one pale, shaking finger and lifted up the lip of the dead man’s front jeans pocket. He slid the other hand in gently, feeling around for its contents. “There’s something in here,” he commented as his fingers probed for their treasure. He gently eased his hand out of the pocket, producing a gold medallion on a chain. “Wow, look at this!”
“What is it?” Billy asked, heart pounding in his chest.
Stevie held the medallion up to his eyes, still crouching beside the corpse. “It’s got a goat’s head on it, and an upside down star,” he told Billy.
“That’s the sign of the devil, man! I read about it at the library!” Billy exclaimed. “You better put it back, Stevie.”
Stevie looked up at Billy, that sly smile back on his lips. “Maybe Satan got him, eh Rayburn?”
Billy stared back at his friend as he held up the medallion. Rays of sunlight peeking through the tall pine trees glinted off its shiny surface as it twirled in the breeze. Beside Stevie, Billy saw the eyes of the corpse slowly open. “Oh my God, Stevie, he’s waking up!”
Before Stevie could react, the cold, white hand of the corpse shot up, grabbing the wrist that held the medallion. Horrified screams escaped the throats of both boys. Stevie jerked his arm away from the dead body’s grasp with a strength that can only be achieved in the throes of pure terror. He lost his own hold on the medallion as it fell in the dirt next to the body, but neither boy cared.
They both jumped on their bicycles and pedaled harder than they had ever pedaled in their lives. Billy glanced back once before they got out of sight. The corpse was attempting to stand up.
Back at Stevie’s house, the two boys raced into his front yard in a panic. They were off their bicycles long before they stopped rolling and were running for the house. Barging through the front door, they ran headlong into Stevie’s big brother Dennis.
“Hold up squirts, no running in the hall,” he admonished them.
“Oh my God, Dennis,” Stevie began. “We just found Kevin Downing dead on Dead Man’s Curve!”
“Kevin? No, I don’t think so, squirt. I saw him alive and drunk in the bar last night.”
“I’m tellin’ ya Dennis, he was dead,” Billy said.
“And we found a Devil’s medallion in his pocket!” Stevie pointed out.
Dennis smiled at them. “Yeah, he was spouting off about some new cult he had joined last night. That’s just a bunch of horsecrap though. He was probably just passed out. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m telling ya man, he was dead!” Stevie’s older brother ruffled the hair of his younger sibling and walked into his bedroom snickering. He obviously wasn’t going to be any help.
Stevie called out for his parents. “Mom! Dad! Where are you?”
“I’m in the kitchen, Stevie,” they heard his mom call.
The boys ran to the back of the house where Marion Simms was bent over the kitchen sink washing the morning dishes. She turned around, water dripping from her fingers as she reached for a towel. “What has you boys in such a huff?” she asked.
Stevie hesitated. “Um, nothing really. You know where Dad is?” As terrified as the boys were, Stevie felt his father would be better equipped to handle this particular emergency.
“He’s out back working on the lawn mower,” she pointed out the back door.
“Thanks Mom!” Stevie said, and the two boys burst out the back door.
Raymond Simms had the family’s yard mower upside down near the shed in the back yard. As the boys came rushing up to him, he looked up from his work. “What’s up boys? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Worse Dad! We saw a zombie!”
“A zombie huh?” He didn’t look at all like he was buying the boy’s story.
“It’s true! It was Kevin Downing. He was dead, Dad! We found a satanic medallion in his pocket and when I took it, he woke up! He woke up from the dead!” Stevie rattled.
“Now, slow down boy,” his father replied. “You aren’t making any sense.”
Stevie stopped to take a long breath, and then he and Billy took turns telling Mr. Simms of the morning’s events. The only thing they left out was that they were fishing in his pocket for money; instead they said they were looking for identification.
“Well, you boys certainly have an active imagination,” Mr. Simms said when they had finished their tale. “Kevin Darling is a drunk, boys. He was probably just passed out after a hard Friday night of drinking at the bar. Not dead at all.”
“No way, Mr. Simms,” Billy told him. “I checked. He wasn’t breathing at all. I poked him with a stick to make sure he was dead.”
“Well, he obviously wasn’t dead if he woke up and scared you boys. People don’t just come back to life. Zombies are for the movies, not for real life.” The boys disagreed. “Well, what did he do after he woke up?” Mr. Simms asked.
“We ran!” Stevie said.
“But I saw him getting up!” Billy told him.
Mr. Simms thought about that for a moment. “He’s probably heading home now that he’s sobered up a little. Let’s go see if we can find him and I will prove to you that he isn’t a zombie.”
The boys looked at each dubiously, not sure if they really wanted to know for sure. They were both still quite shaken by what had happened.
“Come on boys, get in the truck,” Mr. Simms said sternly.
The two boys sat beside Mr. Simms in his battered, old, blue-green Ford pickup. They were puttering up the highway that ran adjacent to Willowbury Woods.
“We’ll drive up the highway here and see if we can spot him,” Mr. Simms told the boys. “If we don’t see him along the way, we can backtrack to the trail and see if he’s still on it somewhere. Sound good?”
“How fast can a zombie walk?” Stevie wondered out loud.
“I told you, son, there is no such thing as zombies.”
Stevie and Billy both wondered though. Kevin Downing sure had looked dead. The trail that Billy had used forked off right in front of his house, where he had entered the woods. From there, the trail followed the highway to the far end of the forest. Mr. Simms and the boys kept a close eye on the beaten path, knowing it ended not far from the Downing house. Less than a mile up the highway, they spotted a figure stumbling along the roadside.
“That’s him!” Stevie shouted.
“Yup, sure looks like him, doesn’t it?” Mr. Simms said. He pulled the pickup off the highway onto an old access road for the deserted campgrounds. The access road was no longer used by the Forest Service and was littered with weeds. The boys could hear them scraping along the bottom of the truck as Mr. Simms pulled to stop. Kevin Downing was shambling toward them, weaving back and forth on the trail.
Mr. Simms turned off the truck and got out. “Coming boys?” he asked.
“I think I’ll wait here,” Billy stated.
“Me too,” Stevie agreed.
Mr. Simms shut the driver’s door on the old truck and started walking toward Kevin Downing. The boys watched intently from the cab as the two men met along the path. Stevie’s father appeared to be talking to the corpse that Billy had found on Dead Man’s Curve just an hour ago. Kevin Downing was having a problem standing up straight though. Mr. Simms put an arm around him and began helping him back to the pick-up.
“Oh man, he’s bringing him here!” Billy squealed. “I don’t like this at all!”
“Maybe Dad was right,” Stevie pointed out. “Maybe he was just passed out.”
“Are you kidding, man? We both saw him. He was freakin’ dead!”
Stevie looked at his pal, then back at his father helping the Downing guy walk. Mr. Simms was smiling as he walked up to the truck. He peered in through the open driver’s side window at the boys. “See boys? Kevin here isn’t a zombie. Are you, Kevin?”
The corpse belched; white foam spittle pouring down his chin. His eyes rolled back in his head briefly.
“He’s just drunker than a skunk!” Mr. Simms said. The boys breathed a sigh of relief.
“Boy, Rayburn, you sure have an active imagination!” Stevie razzed his buddy.
“Maybe, but I get it from you!” Billy chided back. They could hear Mr. Simms telling Kevin to get in the back of the truck; he would give him a ride the rest of the way home so he wouldn't get himself killed along the highway. Kevin was still having a hard time standing though. His knees buckled and the boys watched as he fell forward into Stevie’s father. He caught the drunken man under the arms to keep him from hitting the ground. Kevin’s face was buried in Mr. Simm’s chest. He tried to hitch him up, back to his feet.
Suddenly, Stevie’s father screamed out loud and pulled away from Kevin Downing. Blood was spurting from Raymond Simm’s neck, splashing into the cabin of the truck where the boys watched in terror. The thick vein in his neck was pumping the lifeblood right out of him. The boys screamed in unison.
“He took out your Dad’s jugular!” Billy cried out to his friend. Stevie began wailing as his father’s legs buckled and he fell to the ground.
Kevin Downing bent down and looked in at the two traumatized children. They could see the flesh from Mr. Simm’s neck still clenched between his teeth. Blood now joined the spittle on his chin; dripping, running. The crimson-soaked lips of Billy Rayburn’s discovered corpse turned up in a grimacing, chaotic smile.
The bloody mouth slowly opened as the chunk of human flesh fell out of his clenched teeth and bounced on the seat of the truck with a wet thump.
“You’re next,” the zombie growled at the boys.
THE END
Hope you like it!
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