I was able to dig the top section of the panel up just enough to slip my fingers under the bar. Mud squished between them and made a smacking noise as I dug my shoes into the earth. The panel was heavier than expected, making it near impossible for me to lift on my own. Movement on the other side kept the bars pinned at the corner.
“Arron, what the heck.” I huffed. “Quit standing on in.”
I got no response; he didn’t bother moving. I tugged on the fence, but the panel wouldn’t budge.
“Arron, I’m ser–”
My sentence was abruptly cut short as my eyes steadied on the base of the figure. It was a pair of brown boots, but the tip of the right one had been worn away, leaving a very skeletal toe sticking out. My breath stuck in my throat as I followed the weathered pair of muddy khakis up to a boney and concaved torso. Strips of skin hung from the creature’s ribcage, and a gaping hole allowed me to peer through the body entirely.
Continuing the visual trail upward, I took in the shreds of his brown shirt. It looked as though he had gotten bit in the gut, then devoured from the middle outward. His face was long and rectangular, leaving mostly muscle and chipped skeleton visible. The bones of his fingers curled as they reached for me, and I found myself foolishly bringing my arms up in defense.
I released a rattled cry as the creature’s hands wrapped around my wrists. I felt each divot of his bones as he squeezed. The amount of strength coursing through a corpse was terrifying in itself.
I struggled to pull myself away, panicked by the understanding that just one puncture could tear my skin and infect me with the rot he carried. His legs gave out beneath him, and a shriek tore from my throat when his body collapsed over mine. Mud wrapped around me, gushing over my hair and into my ears. The noise of the world muffled as though I had been pushed underwater.
Blood and intestines spilled onto my body, cold as ice against my skin. While squirming, my head arched backward to get away from his snapping jaws. He released a menacing hiss in frustration for failing to capture what he so desperately craved.
A shadow cast over us. Arron’s knees dug into the ground by my head as he jammed the pocketknife into the skull of my attacker. The little blade did nothing but infuriate the creature. His head moved toward Arron and the man drove the tiny blade into the cavity where the nose had corroded away. With every thrust of the blade, Arron’s movements became increasingly erratic. Wet gurgles spewed from his lips as he cut into the man’s head.
Arron eventually threw the pocketknife in frustration, losing the little blue plastic scale in the mud. He gripped both sides of the creature’s skull and began to squeeze until a fracture formed in the bone. It crawled up the skull like a crack in a pond of ice until finally causing his crown to implode like a decomposed pumpkin. The man’s body went limp and he fell awkwardly against the ground by my side. His hands were still firmly locked around my wrists.
The shrieks coming from my lips were almost too inhuman to be recognized as my own. I choked on my spit during the desperate crawl away from the cadaver. I held my arms pressed firmly to my chest, the pressure of those skeletal hands still very noticeable. Arron worked hastily to peel back each bony finger until my arms were my own again.
I rolled away, falling against the mud as I tried to stand. My hands kept rubbing my wrists as I replayed the feeling in my head.
“Audrey, Audrey!” Arron tried grabbing for my hands, but even his touch evoked fear in that moment. “Whose blood is this? Audrey! Whose blood is this?”
A deep red stained the threads of my sleeve, darker and more prominent than the mud encasing the rest of me. The same fear in Arron’s eyes appeared in mine as I observed the vibrant contrast against my milky skin.
“Audrey, whose blood is this!” Arron cried again. His hands pressed firmly against my wrists, his eyes searching mine.
“It’s…I-it’s not m-mine!” I sputtered.
Arron flipped over my arms. He peeled away the fabric of my sleeves and used his hoodie to wipe away the fluids left behind by the dead man. Once he was convinced I hadn’t been bitten or scratched, he released my arms. He took a few steps back, nervously running his fingers through his hair and leaving streaks of mud in the strands.
“You can’t tell Daniel.” It was barely louder than a whisper. “Daniel can’t know.”
I said nothing as the young man paced. His footing was so sloppy he nearly tripped over the iron bars of the fence as he marched. Fear and concern danced in his eyes even as the sun began to set. Beneath the darkening sky, a second corpse moved from the shadows of the forest’s edge.
“Arron.” My voice was firmer now, more controlled. His head snapped in my direction. “I won’t tell him.”