The Arm…Part 7

Dillon let out a screech and jerked his leg backwards. The arm continued its death grip on his leg. Raising his other leg, Dillon prepared to crush it.

"Hold on....hold on," a voice called out from under the car. Suddenly a young man who appeared to be in his early 20's came crawling out from under the car. He let go of Dillon's leg and smiled uneasily. Dillon could see with some alarm that the man had a tire iron in his other hand.

"I just had....just had to make sure, you know," the man said, glancing around nervously, "I had to make sure that you weren't one of....them."

Dillon shuddered and nodded. It was an unspoken word between them, but they both knew what he was talking about. Zombies. It seemed that things that were once dead....weren't so dead anymore. Dillon could still see the images of the two zombies he had left back at his house. Were they following him even now?

"Hey, I hope I didn't scare you too much," the man looked at the car and shook his head in disgust.

"Just a bit," Dillon lied, "Is this your car?"

"Yep," the man said, "It sure is."

"Ummmm....then why did you run off the road?" Dillon asked, "Why are you in the ditch?"

"Come over here and see for yourself," the man said leading Dillon to the ditch. Dillon suddenly didn't want to know...but he went anyway.

Underneath the front tires, Dillon could see the twitching remains of a zombie. It was pinned underneath the car...but it was still moving. The tires had crushed its ribcage.....and yet it continued to look at both of them, chomping its teeth and trying to get at them. A low moan escaped from its lips which were peeled back in a sneer of blood and pain.

Dillon turned and walked three steps before he threw up. Hot vomit splattered on his shoes. He felt a hand on his shoulder and jerked away. He didn't want to be comforted....not now.

"Hey....hey," the man said, "It's okay. It's going to be......okay."

Dillon closed his eyes. He could tell from the sound of the man's voice....the way that his voice trailed off at the end....that even he didn't believe it. Would things ever be alright again?

Dillon turned around, wiping his mouth, "What's going on? Why is this happening?"

"I don't know," the man said, walking back over to his car, "I was listening to the radio when the news cut in that there were reports of people....being attacked. I still don't think that they know what is going on....actually. They just kept saying it was people attacking other people....but this is....really messed up."

"The head," Dillon said, pointing to the front of the car.

"What?" the man asked.

"I think you have to destroy the head," Dillon said, "At least, that is how they always do it in the movies."

"Yeah....right," the man said blankly. He walked slowly to the front of the car. Dillon looked away. He didn't want to see.....but he still heard. The thwack of the tire iron sinking into soft flesh...through bone...and into the dark, warm tissues inside. He heard the man choke back some vomit of his own.

"You're right," he heard the man say, "It stopped moving."

Dillon turned around and saw the man looking down at the ground. He started to walk toward the man.....he just had to see for himself.

"Don't look at it," the man said, holding Dillon back, "Let's just get out of here. I think that if you steer the wheel that I can push this thing out of the ditch. Wanna' get out of this place?"

"Yes," Dillon said....and that was all. He felt numb. He didn't really know what he felt right now. He just wanted to get as far away from this place as he could.

As he slipped into the car and started turning the wheel to the left just like the man had told him to, he heard him say, "By the way, my name is Jeremy."

"Nice to meet you Jeremy," Dillon croaked, his throat still burning from the vomit.

Soon, with a little pushing and a lot of sweat, the car was back on the road. Dillon slid over and Jeremy took control of the wheel. At first, the car just grinded and screeched. It didn't want to start again. But finally, just like the zombies, it came back to life.

Without a word, Jeremy took off down the road. In the rear view mirror, Dillon thought that he saw the shuffling figure of a man...a man without a throat....come around the curve to where they had just been. He reached out and turned the mirror. He didn't want to see.....or think.