CURMUDGEON (2018 Watty Wildcard Winner)

Chapter Five - Richard

The ground was muddy, slicker than snot on a doorknob, in the flowerbeds under Richard's window. Without the walker, he'd have fallen for sure, but trying to maneuver the thing through the muck was a Herculean feat. The two men stayed close to the wall, picking their way toward the back of the building.

Stanley peeked over his shoulder and whispered something in Richard's general direction.

'What?" Richard whispered back.

Again, the infuriating man's lips moved, but no sound reached Richard's ears. "What's that?" he asked, louder, fiddling with the control on his hearing aid.

Stanley stopped so abruptly that Richard almost bumped into the back of him.

"Watch it!" Richard said. His feet were cold and wet. Already the horror of what had happened in his room was starting to fade away, replaced by annoyance at the absurdity of having his routine disrupted.

Stanley leaned much too close and whispered, "We have to be quiet, Dick. We can't be shouting at one another out here or they'll--" he gasped. "Run!"

Richard frowned. "They'll run?"

"Run!" Stanley shouted again.

Two of the creatures crept around the end of the building in their direction.

Pushing the walker before him, to keep himself upright, Richard stumbled through the mud toward the grassy field that separated the back of the Everest Senior Living Facility from US-223.

A third monster dropped out of the sky and landed in front of them, its red eyes glowing in the dark night.

'Eep! Argh! Blechnech!" Richard shouted incoherently before yanking the toy pistol from the pouch and shooting the thing in the face.

The tiny stream of water arced across the space that separated the men from the monster and hit it square in the eyes. Its inhuman shrieks filled the air for an instant before Stanley slammed a broken yardstick into its chest, causing it to fall to ash and smoke.

Growls rose up from behind them and Richard remembered they were outnumbered. He turned and shot the gun toward the other beasts. One of them screamed when the water touched its face. The other launched itself into the air.

Stanley ripped one of the stakes from its hiding place and stabbed the one that had hesitated. He snatched a pistol from the small of his back, aimed carefully, and fired a single shot. The creature diving toward them exploded, sending bits of soot raining down on them.

For the first time in decades, Richard ran. Well, he shambled along in fits and starts pushing his rattling aluminum walker in front of him like a bulldozer. Every time his foot struck the moist earth a shock of pain jolted through his body. Air wheezed into his lungs in huge bursts that stretched his chest, enlivening parts of him he'd thought long dead.

It was fantastic.

At the edge of the highway, Stanley stopped and looked over his shoulder. He tucked the gun behind him again and glanced back at Richard. "Wooden bullets, soaked in Holy water," he said.

Richard stood slumped over his walker next to a 55mph sign, gasping for air. "We should get somewhere public, right? That'll be safer." He raised a shaking hand and pointed. "Denny's?"

"Perfect."

They waited for two semi trucks and a Volkswagen Beetle to pass by, crossed the road, and jogged/walked/staggered/shuffled across another grassy field into the parking lot of Denny's.