Twenty Four

Maylee slammed on the brakes. The car jerked forward, then rocked back. Dalton yelped and tugged at the seat belt dug into his shoulder.

"Damn it, your driving sucks, Maylee," he said.

"Be quiet," said Maylee. She was gripping the steering wheel and looking out at the junction they'd just come to. She hated that she had to move the seat so close to reach the pedals. "Which way to the good bridge?" she said.

"What?"

"You remember. The bridge. The new one."

Maylee looked both directions. There used to be one quick way to Mom's work from here. An old wooden bridge that tourists would come to look at in the summer. Then one year someone from the government pronounced it unsafe, put a landmark sign on it, and the state had to build a new one. The new bridge was built farther up the same road, crossing the river at a different point. Maylee had ridden to work with Mom dozens of times, first over one bridge, then the other. Now, in the dark and terror and the newness of driving herself, Maylee couldn't remember.

She turned to Dalton. "The one we won't fall off of and die."

Dalton looked up and down the road. "How should I know? Mom's the one who drives."

Maylee sighed and looked again. She looked in the rearview mirror and saw a corpse stumbling up to the car, far away still but visible in the red of her taillights. Time was up. She'd have to choose.

"Well damn it, I think it's this way," Maylee said, then turned right.

For several minutes they drove in quiet. Trees went by in the dark, and every so often Maylee was sure she saw a corpse wandering among them. Then the bridge came into view. It was the new one. Maylee sighed with relief.

Then they drew closer and she noticed the corpses wandering up and down the bridge. Easily a hundred of them. Maybe more. Where had they all come from?

Maylee noticed their highly decomposed state and their tattered clothes. The old graveyard nearby. This town's full of old graveyards.

Maylee stopped the car and cursed.

"What?" said Dalton, then he looked out the window. "Oh."

"Maybe we can just run over them," said Maylee. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, wondering. There were more of them than she had run over in the garage. Lots more.

"You sure?" asked Dalton.

"No of course I'm not sure," said Maylee. "But it's that, the old rickety bridge, or going all the way back and taking the long way around."

"That would take forever," said Dalton.

"That's why we're doing this," said Maylee. She gunned the engine and tore for the bridge.

The nearest corpse turned just as Maylee smacked into it. It flew backward a few feet into the mass of corpses behind it. The car slowed to a stop. The corpses groaned and clawed at the car.

"Crap!" said Dalton. "Try harder!"

Maylee did. She floored the gas and the wheels spun as they had in the garage. The corpses hissed, their sheer mass keeping the car from moving more than a few feet at a time. One corpse, an old man in a rotted priest's collar, climbed up onto the hood. He scraped yellow fingernails across the windshield, trying to get at Maylee.

"Screw this," said Maylee. "We'll back up and try again."

She put the car in reverse and looked behind her. Her chest went tight. The corpses had surrounded the car.

"Shit," she said, still looking.

"What?" asked Dalton, turning to look. He gasped and was silent.

The priest on the hood groaned and pawed at the windshield. Another corpse, a woman in a torn and dirty dress, climbed onto the trunk. She gurgled and tried to bite through the glass.

"Go! Go!" yelled Dalton.

Maylee kept the car in reverse and slammed down on the gas. The car lurched backward, moving a few feet. More corpses appeared in back of the car. Maylee cursed and slammed on the gas again. Something under the car went "crunch" and the car was free. It moved faster than Maylee had anticipated and she swerved backward into the guardrail. The corpse on the trunk flew off. The corpse on the hood slammed into the windshield, cracking it slightly.

"Damn it!" yelled Maylee, wrenching the car into drive. She gave the car gas but it stayed in place. The guardrail creaked and groaned. The corpses began surrounding the car again. The priest on the hood ran his withered hands over the cracked windshield.

"Maylee..." said Dalton, his voice shaking as he stared at the priest.

"I'm working on it," said Maylee, pushing the gearshift into reverse and slamming the gas pedal. The car rocked backward. The guardrail creaked. The priest on the hood bit at the glass, his thick drool running down onto the hood.

"Maylee.."

"I said I'm working on it!" Maylee shifted into drive and gave the car gas. The engine roared but the car wouldn't move. She could hear the guardrail straining and groaning.

"Oh crap, Maylee!" said Dalton, a new urgency in his voice.

Maylee looked up. A new wave of corpses were stumbling onto the bridge. Nearly a hundred of them. They all looked torn and dirty. Some of them barely looked human, more like dried husks. Their skin cracked and split as they moved.

"Where are they coming from?" said Dalton.

The priest on the hood pounded on the windshield.

Maylee nodded at a steeple among the trees on the far side of the bridge.

"See that old church?"

"The church?" said Dalton. "These things come from churches?"

"No, Dalton," said Maylee, pulling the car into reverse and gunning the gas. The car stayed put. "The graveyard behind the church." She put the car into drive and tried again. Nothing. "Who knows how many more there are. We've got to get out of here."

"No crap," said Dalton.

The priest on the hood moaned and drooled. The corpses ahead of the car, now growing in numbers, pressed forward. Maylee looked in the rearview mirror. Another corpse, a man with a large portion of his face burnt and blackened, was pawing at the trunk.

Maylee shifted into park and took her foot off the gas.

"What the crap are you doing?" said Dalton.

Maylee reached into the backseat and grabbed the bat. "Stay here."

She opened the door. The smell of the corpses flooded in.

"Maylee!" yelled Dalton.

"Just stay here!" she said, undoing her seat belt and climbing from the car.

She had little room to move. The car was up against the guardrail. She slid her way clear of the door and shut it. The corpses were everywhere, groaning and reaching at her. The car kept them at bay. For the moment.

She gripped the bat and sidestepped to the back of the car. The burnt-face man groaned at her.

"Fuck off," she said, slamming the bat across his head. His head rocked to one side and a chunk of burnt flesh flew off and onto the road behind the car. He fell onto his back, groaning and pawing at nothing.

Maylee looked down where the car met the guardrail. The bumper had somehow hooked itself onto the metal of the rail. She frowned and whacked the bumper with the bat. The metal bent inward but was still hung on the rail.

The burnt-face man stood up. His newly-exposed flesh was red and raw. He growled at her, reaching.

"I said fuck off!" said Maylee, slamming his head again. He groaned and fell back down.

Maylee whacked the bumper again. The metal crumpled and came free of the rail.

"Damn right," she said to no one. She turned and looked around. The corpses from the graveyard were close to the car. The priest on the hood was doing his best to climb onto the car's roof. He was reaching for her desperately, clutching at air.

She sidestepped, quickly as she could, back to the door. She opened the door and slid back in, tossing the bat into the backseat.

"What the crap!" said Dalton.

"Not now," said Maylee, closing the door. She pulled the car into reverse and turned the wheel hard to the right. She gunned the gas and the car lurched free of the guardrail and into the middle of the bridge. She heard crunching and squishing and knew they were corpses.

The priest on the hood groaned and slid off the car, smacking his head on the windshield on his way down. The glass cracked a little more.

"Go go go!" said Dalton.

Maylee straightened the wheel and gunned the engine. The car sped backward, bouncing as it hit the road and was free of the bridge. For a panicked moment Maylee lost control of the car as it rocketed backward.

"Shit!" she said, slamming on the brakes. The car spun in the road and they both screamed.

The car came to a halt longways across the road. The back tires were very close to a ditch.

"Dammit!" said Dalton. "Your driving sucks, Maylee!"

Maylee ignored him and looked over at the bridge. It was now choked so thick with corpses there was no way they'd get across it.

"Shut up," she finally said, pulling the shifter into drive and turning the car to face away from the bridge. She took one last look at the bridge, then sped away.

"Looks like we have to try the old bridge," she said.