Rise and Fall

Chapter 1

It stumbles forward, arms outstretched, its pace slow and steady. Its movements are unhurried; it has nowhere to be. Pale, clouded irises stare out of its decaying face, dead and unseeing.

   The creature’s form is that of a male human, although it looks anything but. Its skin is grey and peeling, similar to the aftereffects of sunburn. The clothes it wears are peppered with tears and holes, and covered in filth, exposing the wounds to its body: bullet holes and vivid lacerations, no longer bleeding, dark brown in colour where the blood has dried and crusted. Despite its injuries, it staggers on untroubled, content to continue walking. It is terrifying.

   The sun has started its descent and the field through which the creature walks begins to darken. A large tree branch blocks its path, but it does not attempt to avoid it. Oblivious, it trips over the obstacle; without any sign of annoyance or embarrassment, it rights itself and continues forwards.

   The man behind the camera is transfixed.

   He’d been jogging across the field when he’d spotted it. Usually, he took no notice of other people whilst running, but the way the figure lumbered about, their arms out in front, had caused him to falter and halt. Curious, his brow furrowed and mouth slightly open, he’d taken a step towards the peculiar rambler.

   The jogger, now somewhat concerned for the approaching figure, had opened his mouth to call out to them, see if they were all right. But the sight of the walker’s face caused the words to die in his throat. The grey, flaking skin; the one empty eye socket; the missing teeth; all had caused him to mutter, ‘What the fuck?’ instead.

   In his horrified fascination, the jogger continued to inch forward. Taking advantage of the fact the creature remained none-the-wiser to his presence, he’d drawn his iPhone from the holster on his arm and started to film.

   He intends to send the video into the local news station; his discovery might be important, something that others should know about. Zooming in, he shoots a close-up of its face and feels his stomach churn, but he can’t take his eyes off the screen.

   And then the wind changes.

   It means nothing to the jogger, but he is startled when the creature stops abruptly and sniffs the air. It rotates its head, moving its nose through the air, sniffing until it locates the source of the smell.

   Its head snaps to the side, misty eyes landing on the jogger.

   His breath catches in his throat and the jogger freezes. Perhaps, if he stays completely still, the thing will grow bored and leave him be. Maybe it’s like a dog, he half wonders, half prays. If I don’t bolt, it’ll lose interest.

   But the jogger is not that lucky. Still sniffing, assured that its prey is still in front of it, the creature alters its direction and starts staggering forward again, grunting determinedly with each step. The jogger lets out an effeminate whimper when he sees its mouth twitch into a malicious grin.

   He sprints. In his terror, he forgets both his initial plan and to turn off his phone. Fifty metres. One hundred… One hundred and fifty. It takes no time at all for him to put a decent distance between them. He glances over his shoulder – it’s still following him, but stands no chance of catching up.

   It’s okay, the jogger assures himself, I’ll be all right. He continues to sprint, puffing and panting, for another hundred metres or so. Another glance over his shoulder and he lets out a shriek of, ‘Oh, my God!’

   The zombie – for what else can it be? – has started to run and is picking up speed. The gap between them is beginning to close. The jogger, not used to running at such speeds, digs deep to find another burst of energy.

   But the zombie does not seem to tire. It gains on its prey with every step; it doesn’t stumble, now. Its arms pump, legs pound, and its eyes are focussed solely on its next meal.

   The jogger doesn’t need to look to know it’s getting close. He can hear it grunt; in the rhythm a human would run and take a breath. His panic has caused his usually-controlled breathing to falter and a stitch has started to form under his ribs. Tears form in his eyes; not much longer, he knows.

   And then, without any warning, the jogger is ploughed into from behind. He and the zombie crash to the ground. The iPhone flies out of his grasp, landing a few feet away on the grass. He can hear someone screaming and attempts to call out to them for help, only to realise that he’s the screamer.  There’s no one there to help.

   The two of them scuffle, the jogger’s hands on his predator’s shoulders, forcing the zombie’s gnashing teeth away from his throat. He can feel his arms beginning to tremble, his elbows bending, which only makes him panic more. Wailing like a terrified child, he kicks violently in an attempt to unbalance the zombie, but it doesn’t work. It inches closer.

   By now, the jogger is exhausted. The zombie is no more than three inches from his face; the sight is even more horrendous up close and personal. Its mouth is open and its black tongue is visible, behind rows of yellowed teeth. The smell of its breath – putrid, as though its insides are rotting – makes the jogger heave.

   And that is all it takes. As he gags, the jogger’s arms give way and the zombie latches onto his neck. Its rough, dirty teeth sink into the soft flesh, and blood begins to gush into its mouth. It grunts again, its only form of communication, but the grunt is different now; no longer determined, more contented.

   All the while the jogger is hysterical, flailing his limbs to no avail, screaming himself hoarse. The pain doesn’t register immediately, adrenalin and fear working together to block it out, but he knows exactly what is happening. He can hear it: the sucking sound as the zombie tears a chunk out of his neck; the wet smacking sound as it chews; the pulsing in his ears as the blood pours out of him.

   Really, it doesn’t take long. The jogger can already feel that his breathing is becoming laboured. He feels lightheaded, too, as though he’s stood up too fast. Before long, his peripheral vision begins to darken. It takes no more than thirty seconds for him to lose consciousness.

    The iPhone continues to record various clouds as they move across the sky, only picking up the audio of the scene unfolding next to it.