Fountain of the Dead Read online

  “It’s not high enough!” She screamed.

  “I got you,” Sam said and helped to hoist her up. Frank put two bullets into a six footer that ambled up next to the ladder. The gators piled up on each other trying to get near the warm flesh. It looked like feeding time at Gator Land.

  Sam planted a hand on Sharon’s backside and pushed her on to the roof. She fought for purchase and got to the crest. Sam hopped off the ladder, using a dead gator for a landing and rushed back into the shed. Frank fired more until the chamber clicked empty. He slammed the door shut and slid down it to the floor after locking it. After catching their breath and wiping as much sweat off as they could, Frank and Sam reconstructed the barricade.

  “Any casualties?” Catherine asked.

  “Two more clips of ammo,” Frank answered.

  “I hope what we stole from Darien holds out.” Catherine said.

  * * * * *

  Sharon heard the click of the locks after the door was closed. Below her in the shed, the barricade was moved back into place; the legs of the foosball table scraped against the floor. She lay on the roof, getting flat as she could and took the cap off the rifle scope. She felt the cool reassuring metal of the spare clips in her pocket. Sharon eased the safety off, exhaled a long breath and took the first shot. The alligator was rocked by the bullet. Its back feet continued to twitch after it was dead again.

  “One down,” she called. After scooting forward a little, she cleared the ones directly in front of the door. The normally dark green skin was mottled with black. The eyes, like the other undead, were grey and loaded with violet veins. Some had bites taken out of them; others had no wounds, save for the gunshots. She looked down at the corpses in front of the door and groaned.

  “Going to be a hell of a time getting out.” She saw more of them moving low in the moonlight, attracted by the noise and violence. They moved faster than human zombies. The biology was different and Sharon remembered seeing a nature show before The Storm, where alligators could run up to 35 miles per hour. She wondered for a moment if some were actually living animals, attracted by the blood in the air. Their eyes betrayed them as they got closer to the hut.

  “Kill all the lights down in there. Keep a candle lit if you need to.”

  Their progress slowed; Sharon stopped firing for a moment, waiting for the next wave. When the swamp sounds returned slowly, she risked a glance over the roof. They were down there, dead and waiting, like a carpet of death traps, waiting to be sprung. Dead eyes stared up; massive snouts with vicious teeth open and waiting. Sharon slid back a little and kicked the vent off, it clattered down the roof to a chorus of contorted hisses and growls.

  “They’re not moving,” she said.

  “So kill them all!” Pierce screamed.

  “I’m working on it,” she grumbled. She inched forward again and wiped the sweat from her eyes. Without the scope she fired into the mass of bodies. But the writhing never ceased. They crawled over each other to get to their food.

  * * * * *

  Micah worked the radio switching channels. Frank and Sam stood near the door. Every shot made Catherine flinch. She kept picturing Sharon losing her balance and sliding into the pile of alligators outside, while Micah wept and they were forced to listen to her being devoured. Each flinch was a reflex at the threats from her youth and marriage, drunken rages ending in bloodshed but no bullet wounds. Wet slurping came from the corner.

  “Is something in here?” Frank lit his flashlight and shone the beam on Pierce. He was in the corner, kneeling, with his arm in his mouth. Long tendrils of bloody spit stretched down from his lips. Spread out in front of him and open was the book from his pack. It showed a map of Florida, with a large “X” in the south. The upside down caption read “The Fountain of Youth.”

  “What the fuck are you doing, Pierce?”

  Pierce lowered his arm exposing the fresh bite mark. Frank rushed forward and punched Pierce in the head. Pierce crumpled from the blow and Frank dragged him over to Catherine and Sam. Micah reached for the book and flipped it around. Between the pictures on the pages were scores of hand written notes.

  “Micah?” Frank shouted. Pierce stirred on the floor and reached for his head. Blood oozed from his temple.

  “Fountain of Youth. He thinks he’s found the Fountain of Youth.” Micah showed them the book. “In a cave in the swamps.”

  “Hit him with the light,” Frank shouted.

  “First clip down,” Sharon yelled from the roof. They heard scratching from the roof as she shifted position to get the next clip. They followed the path of the empty clip as it slid to the ground below. Micah traced a map on the page with his finger then grabbed one of the lights and shone it on Pierce’s arms.

  “Look at those,” Frank spat. “They’re self inflicted. All the bites on his arms and hands he made.” He pushed up Pierce’s sleeves and compared the angle of the bite marks. He grabbed Pierce’s face and forced his mouth open and compared the bites to his teeth. “Shit.” Pierce shook his head trying to clear the cobwebs. Sam let go of his shoulders and he fell hard to the floor.

  “Psycho was leading us down here on a wet dream,” Sam said. Frank’s face was red with rage, his hands shook. He went to Pierce and ripped off his shirt.

  “Ever see a zombie avoid the torso? Ever see a zombie not go for the soft spot?” He yelled and punched Pierce in the gut.

  “We should have checked the rest of him for bites or let one chew on him for the test,” Catherine whispered. “I really have killed us all.”

  “No, we all believed in it and you,” Frank said. “We saw it work.” He wiped his mouth with his hand and took a step away. He spun with rage and planted his boot in Pierce’s ribs.

  “If you’re going to kill me,” Pierce gasped. “At least do it quick.” Frank kicked him again, hard in the ribs. Pierce curled into a ball.

  “The water heals Frank. We used it, you and I saw.” Micah looked up at them both. “Your idea. We need to get more. Get some for Beverly and Williams.”

  “How about I toss him out into that pack of whatever the fuck they are out there?”

  “Why are you down here, really?” Catherine asked.

  “Fountain of Youth,” Pierce gasped.

  “Oh that’s rich!” Frank went to kick him again and caught himself. “We’re down here chasing a fucking myth.”

  “It’s real.” Pierce pleaded. “You saw the water, it works. I found it once, I couldn’t find it again.”

  “And these people, in the lab, you killed them when they refused to help you?”

  “It was deserted and they were dead when I got here. I was following legends and tales from the Seminoles.”

  “What did you expect to find? A giant fountain made of gold and jewels bubbling clear, perfect water?” Catherine asked. “Maybe the remains of the galleon he sailed here on?”

  “If you read the history books, there are tales from Spanish explorers that found it.”

  “Where are they now? If it existed, they’d be the kings of the world,” Micah said as he slammed the book closed and flung it across the room.

  “That’s why I came down here. I’ve been tromping through the swamps and wetlands for fuck knows how long,” Pierce said and spit on the floor, the saliva pink tinged. “And I found my way out of the swamp and roamed the highways looking for help.” He smiled at Micah. “Had a long time to construct my story. And I really am an environmentalist if it matters.” Pierce slid his hands on his ribs, gingerly and grimaced.

  “And you risked our lives for your craziness?” Micah said.

  “You stowed away, kid. And yes.”

  “Catherine, please let me kill him.” Catherine looked down at Pierce and felt pity. “Leave him alone, Frank.” Frank looked at her shocked. Above them Sharon fired into the darkness. “Let’s get out of here, and get back to our village.” Pierce struggled to his feet, holding his side.

  “You broke my ribs.”

  “You’re lu
cky I didn’t stab you in the gut and let you bleed out slow.”

  “How we doing Sharon?” Catherine yelled.

  “Down to one clip, it’s slowing.”

  “Sam, get ready to open the door.” Sam glared at Pierce and pushed the barricade out of the way. He grabbed the door handle.

  “Any last words?”

  Pierce tried to straighten up and bent over in pain.

  “Yeah,” he said and punched Catherine, once in the face breaking her nose and again in the ear. He pushed Sam out of the way and took off into the swamp. He hit the carpet of gators and went down hard into the midst of them. He rolled out of the way as one tried to bite him. When his feet hit ground, Pierce ran off into the darkness. Frank helped Catherine into one of the chairs. Micah tore some cloth from his shirt and handed it to Frank.

  “Want me to drop him?” Sharon yelled.

  “No, he’s mine.” Frank grabbed two extra clips of ammo and charged off after Pierce.

  * * * * *

  Frank jump-stepped over the alligators like a tire obstacle; he saw Pierce fade into the dark forest, away from the walkways. Everything else was secondary; killing Pierce filled his mind. The gators didn’t matter, zombies didn’t matter, and he wanted blood. Through the trees, he heard Pierce crashing through the undergrowth. He was an easy target. Frank forced himself to run faster, to catch up and overtake him, but Pierce had least ten years, probably more on him. There was a loud splash and a crash. Frank charged forward.

  Pierce was waist deep in a pond, sloshing through the water. He turned to see who was following and went face first into the water. Frank eased out into the cool water, the surface dotted with green patches of algae. Saw grass swayed in Frank’s wake through the water. Frank stopped in the water to catch his breath; Pierce dove forward and started to swim. He groaned in pain with each stroke.

  Pierce hit the other side of the pond and took off again, arms and legs spraying water as he ran. Frank pulled himself out of the pond and followed the crashing. The swamp seemed to go silent at their pursuit. Frank grabbed on to a cypress tree for support. The shallow water like liquid onyx in the moonlight. There could be anything under the water, trapped in the muck, swimming around his feet, crawling through the mud, reaching for his legs. Pierce had stopped running, and Frank waited to hear the next crash or splash. He wiped sweat from his head and waved away mosquitoes.

  “Frank,” Pierce called. “Let’s call it even. You let me go, and I run away.” Frank tried to pinpoint the voice and smiled. He continued forward again. Frank started to lose track of the time in the chase. He didn’t notice the sky getting lighter. Pierce’s crashing was slowing down. Frank broke through the trees and Pierce was there, clutching his side, and leaning up against a tree; moss like an old man’s beard hung down from the branches. The ground seemed strong and dry. Frank found a stick and prodded the ground with each step.

  Pierce stood and started to walk backwards. Frank dropped the stick and took out his pistol. When his aim was ready, and his finger tensed on the trigger, Pierce bolted again through the trees. Frank went to follow, tripped over a root and the gun bounced away into the overgrowth. He grabbed his ankle, already starting to swell.

  “Is it broken, Frank? I hope it is. I can hear you yelling.”

  “You wish,” Frank spat and stood. He tested his ankle and took a small step. “I’m coming for you Pierce.” Frank took off at a slow limp and recovered the gun. The trees grew close, vines and mold hung down from the branches. The sun was up. Frank took out his pocket knife and drove it into a tree as a marker and limped on. Frank wound his way through the trees and stumbled up a hidden clear spot. The morning sun burned down. His tongue scraped against chapped lips and he dry swallowed. He looked up in time to see Pierce dive into a cave.

  Frank took his secondary weapon from the small of his back; checked the gun, safety was off and round chambered. The cave was dark, some of the morning light penetrated in the inky blackness. He could hear Pierce breathing hard.

  “I know you’re out there, Frank,” Pierce called. “Do you have a flashlight by chance?”

  “Silly, psycho fuck. No! I don’t have a light. Do you think I stopped chasing you and ran back for one?” Frank threw his arms to the air and noticed a black splotch on his arm. He tore the leech off and checked for others; he shrugged his shirt off and removed the others on his chest. “How about I just shoot into the cave until you die?”

  “Frank, kill me later. I need you in here.”

  * * * * *

  The cave was dark and shallow. Pierce was pressed against the far cave wall. A small pool bubbled in the cave surrounded by a rock lip no more than ankle high and no matter how much water bubbled in, it didn’t over flow. The lip of the pool was worn smooth. Pierce dipped his hands in over and over taking sips of water. Frank pushed him out of the way then drank his share, never taking his eyes off Pierce. The water was cool and clear. He felt refreshed from the first greedy mouthful. The walls were covered in writings in several languages.

  “Those are Spanish. De Leon’s men were here.” Frank pistol whipped him in the head and he fell to the cave floor. Pierce grabbed a handful of dirt poised to throw it in Frank’s eyes and Frank shot him in the hand when he went to throw it. Pierce screamed out in pain and dunked his hand in the pool. The wound bubbled and fizzed; he pulled his hand out and the skin re-grew before their eyes.

  “Years of trudging through the swamps. Years of tours and Indian lore. Years of..”

  “Years of being an opportunistic asshole.” Frank lowered the gun and shot Pierce in the head. He took a step closer and put another round between his dead eyes. Frank kicked him away from the pool of water. “Just so you can’t come back,” and he fired again into Pierce’s skull. Frank dragged Pierce from the cave and went back in before his torch burnt out. He took several more mouthfuls of the cool water, feeling his ankle heal as he drank and headed back to the lab, leaving Pierce’s body out in the open for warning to any that would follow.

  Chapter 10

  As Frank limped his way back into camp he put more and more weight on his ankle with each step. Sharon waved at him from the roof of the shed. The door was open, letting in fresh air. None of the gators in front of the shed were moving. Sam came out with the ladder and planted it in the ground. Sharon did her best to ease off the roof after handing the rifle down.

  “I thought there were more of these things,” Frank said and sat down under a tree.

  “A bunch of them ran off, no idea why,” she said. “I think they might have been following you. What do you think of my carpet of death? I wish I could copyright that.” Micah ran out of the shed hearing Sharon’s voice and hugged her tight. “I told you I’d be fine, Micah.”

  “Where is he?” Catherine asked walking out. She peaked around the corner looking for predators.

  “Dead,” Frank beamed.

  “By zombie?”

  “By 9mm,” Frank held up the gun and kissed the barrel.

  “And?” Catherine walked through the reptile corpses. Each step she expected one to come alive clamp down on her leg.

  “There is a cave. Son of a bitch was right was right about that.” Everyone gathered around. “Any luck getting Beverly?”

  “No,” Micah said turning his eyes down.

  “The cave has a spring or something in it and it heals, just like back home and the water the fuck had on him. I don’t know about immortality, but it heals. I saw it myself for the second time.” Frank rolled up his pant leg to show his ankle, just discolored now. “I thought I broke it. The ankle was swollen and bruised. I can walk on it now.” Sam looked up at the sun to try and gauge the time.

  “Do you remember how to get there?” Catherine asked. Frank nodded and fixed his pants’ leg. “Show the way.”

  “I can, just give me a few minutes to rest.”

  “What happened to your shirt?” Sam asked.

  “Leaches, fucking leaches.”

  * * * *
*

  They arrived at the cave; a cloud of insects already buzzed and crawled over Pierce’s corpse. Frank tried to block the sight best he could as those who fit squeezed in to the cave. Sharon and Sam wriggled out backwards so Frank could go in. Catherine knelt by the stone basin, watching the water bubble around her fingers.

  “How’s it work?” Catherine asked.

  “Get a wound, dunk it in and it heals.”

  “Not very difficult.”

  “No instructions necessary.” Micah bent low as he walked in. He ran his fingers against the cool stone of the cave. Micah’s shadow stretched out and blocked out the sun. Micah knelt down near the water and sketched.

  “Is anyone wounded?” Catherine asked.

  “I could shoot Sam in the foot if you ask nice,” Frank said.

  “Or you could cut your hand with my knife,” Sam said and handed the hunting knife, handle first.

  “I’m going to get you for this,” Frank said. “Déjà vu, eh Catherine?

  Frank took the knife and eased a little closer to the pool. He grabbed the knife blade, down towards the meat of hand and made a loose fist. Gritting his teeth and taking a deep breath, Frank pulled the knife free; he growled in pain as blood flowed through his fingers. He opened his hand and showed the deep gash. Without a word, he dunked it into the water. The cool water tickled against his skin, bubbled and fizzed and clung to the wound. Frank raised his hand from the water and everyone watched as the wound knitted itself together. Frank opened and closed his hand and clenched his fingers over and over.

  “That’s frigging amazing,” Micah said.

  “You can start swearing, when you’ve talked a little longer,” Sharon said.