The Undead Read online

  The Undead

  By Stephen Leather

  Jack Nightingale appears in the full-length novels Nightfall, Midnight, Nightmare, Nightshade, Lastnight, San Francisco Night and New York Night. He also appears in other short stories including Cursed, Still Bleeding, Tracks, I Know Who Did It, My Name Is Lydia, The Asylum, The Creeper and Children Of The Dark. The Jack Nightingale timeline is complex – The Undead is set after Lastnight.

  It was getting dark in the Great Smoky Mountains of North Carolina. The four hikers, Dave, Aaron, Laura and Stephanie walked silently on pine needles towards Grant’s Peak, an overlook with sweeping views of the forested valley. They were exhausted; they’d been hiking since sunrise thirteen hours ago. Since then they had covered some twenty miles, beginning just after Fontana Dam – they now had another 51 miles to go until the Davenport Gap, the end of the Smokies.

  It had been slow going for them on the Appalachian Trail. They’d been averaging ten miles a day, but nearing mid-summer already and wanting to hike up to Maine before the cold weather set in, they were quickening their pace, which meant short nights and thin gruel suppers. But Dave promised that if they reached the hiking lodge before sundown he’d make them a good old-fashioned camp stew. In his backpack he had the onions, beef stock, carrots, and cans of Spam he needed. It wouldn’t be Gordon Ramsay standard, but it would fill them up.

  Dave kept looking at the map with concern. At twenty-three he was the oldest of the group, a tall, thin redhead wearing a North Face waterproof jacket. He looked up from the map, frowning. Already the woods were dark and silent. ‘Hell,’ he said. ‘I could’ve sworn it was right around the bend here. That’s what it says.’

  Aaron snatched the map from him. Aaron had just turned twenty but his hairline was already starting to recede and he studied the map through thick-lensed spectacles. ‘Let me see that,’ he said, biting his lip and running his finger along the trail. ‘Where did you say we were?’

  Dave pointed at the map. ‘Right here. Supposedly.’

  Aaron squinted at where he was pointing. ‘Right here?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘And when was the last white blaze? At the stream?’ The trail was marked with splashes of white paint, but they could be easily missed.

  Dave paused. ‘No…’ he said slowly. ‘I saw one about two miles ago.’

  Aaron gaped at him. ‘You what?’

  ‘I saw one,’ Dave repeated.

  ‘But you didn’t care to inform us about it.’

  ‘Shit man, I’m tired, I don’t know.’

  ‘You don’t know whether you saw one or you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about?’ He glared at Dave and punctuated his words with a jabbing finger.

  ‘No, I saw one,’ said Dave. ‘I told you. I was just tired and forgot to mention it. What’s the big deal? We’re not lost.’

  Aaron slapped the map against Dave’s chest. ‘Actually, we are lost, dumbass. Because you didn’t mention the white blaze. That was the marker leading up the path to the lodge. Two miles ago. Now I don’t know where the hell we are. But it’s not the Appalachian Trail.’ Aaron let out a deep sigh.

  ‘So what?’ said Dave, trying to sound calm. ‘We backtrack the two miles and go to the lodge. It’s downhill anyway.’

  Stephanie groaned. ‘No way, seriously? I’m not going back there.’ She had just turned nineteen and had a crush on Aaron which was the only reason she had agreed to go on the trip in the first place.

  ‘Why not?’ said Dave.

  ‘Because I’m tired!’

  ‘It’s two miles to the white blaze,’ said Aaron, ‘another two and a half to the lodge. So fuck that.’

  The three of them started to argue. Off to the side, Laura watched with folded arms. She was wearing tinted glasses that barely hid the look of contempt in her eyes. She shook her head, set down her backpack on the trail and walked into the woods. The harsh voices diminished behind her.

  The sun was setting and she took off her glasses and slid them into the breast pocket of her khaki shirt. The woods were dark and gloomy. Laura couldn’t see more than five feet in front of her. The surrounding forest was almost completely silent, except for the nighttime birds and the call of a barred owl somewhere close by. A safe distance from the path now, Laura turned her back to the woods, facing the path, and pulled down her shorts to pee. She wondered what they were going to do for the night. She wouldn’t mind sleeping around here in their tents – she was totally spent and really didn’t want to walk any more. Then again, they were four miles off-course; maybe it would be best to head back so they could sleep in a shelter for once and be all ready for the trail first thing. There would be other hikers in the lodge. Some human interaction other than Dave, Aaron and Stephanie would make a nice change. She realised she hadn’t seen anybody on the trail for the past six hours. It is getting late in the season, she thought. We had better start hauling ass if we want to finish the trail before winter. She had no problem with covering more distance, it was Steph who couldn’t handle the long days. In fact, Steph had no business being on the trail in the first place. Her idea of a vacation was lazing on the beach in Miami, drinking cocktails and flirting with the boys. It was a shame they had ever brought her along, because now she was holding everybody up. Secretly, Laura wished she’d just go home.

  Laura looked around at the imposing woods. Who knew where they were now, or who owned the land they were in. Was it the conservancy, or was it private? Laura hoped they weren’t trespassing on anybody’s property. That was the last thing she needed. It would be a hefty fine, and Laura had already spent all her savings on this trip. Come to think of it, she didn’t know what she was going to do when it was all over…

  A rustling in the bushes interrupted her thoughts.

  Something was moving behind her.

  She turned around quickly and almost fell over. Darkness. She saw nothing. But she felt a cold presence, as if someone was standing five feet away, watching her from the darkness. Goosebumps crawled on her skin, on her naked thighs. She hurriedly pulled up her shorts and backed away. In the darkness was the faint outline of a man. He was standing perfectly still.

  ‘All right Aaron,’ she said. ‘I know it’s you, you perv. You can come out now.’

  The figure remained still.

  Laura’s heart was racing. She stepped back, against a tree, and started. ‘Dammit!’ she said, and moved around the tree. Heavy footsteps approached her. The figure was moving now, following her, breathing heavily.

  ‘This isn’t funny anymore,’ said Laura. ‘Cut it out. I mean it.’

  Twigs snapped underfoot. Whatever was coming towards her was picking up the pace. The figure loomed close, reached out an arm. The arm was colorless. A white hunk of flesh, the nails caked with dirt and blood.

  Laura screamed, turned and ran.

  Branches slapped her face and arms. She flew through them, panting and yelling. Suddenly she crashed into something fleshy and hard.

  It was Aaron. He yelped as she crashed into him. ‘Laura? What’s the matter with you? Why were you shouting?’

  Laura was gasping uncontrollably. She looked wildly at Aaron, Dave, Steph. All of them were right there in the path. They hadn’t moved. She spun around and faced the forest, preparing to face her pursuer head-on. But the movement had stopped. There was nothing there.

  ‘Something’s out there,’ she said breathlessly. ‘In the woods. It chased me!’

  ‘What chased you?’ said Aaron.

  ‘Fleshy arms… pale arms…’ she panted. ‘They reached for me.’

  ‘Oh, please,’ said Steph, rolling her eyes.

  ‘I’m not joking!’ shouted Laura. Everybody fell silent. They stared at her. ‘Something came after me,’ she said, com
posing herself. ‘I don’t know what… We should go back to the trail. Now.’

  ‘We can’t go back,’ whined Steph. ‘That’s like five miles. No way.’

  ‘We need to go back!’ She was close to panicking.

  Aaron put his hand on Laura’s shoulder. ‘Whoa, Laura, take it easy. What happened exactly?’

  ‘I told you already, there was something in the woods and it… it chased me. It looked like a man… I don’t know. It had hands, pale ugly hands with… with blood.’ She covered her face.

  ‘Blood?’ said Aaron.

  ‘Maybe it was a bear?’ suggested Dave.

  ‘It wasn’t a fucking bear, Dave,’ said Aaron. ‘If it was a bear, it would’ve got her. Everyone knows bears can outrun humans.’

  ‘Is that supposed to help the situation?’ said Dave.

  Laura had her face in her hands. She was panting and on the verge of a panic attack.

  ‘You’re very tired, Laura,’ said Aaron. ‘We all are. Your mind’s playing tricks on you. It’s dark, you’re exhausted…’

  Laura picked up her backpack and began walking in the opposite direction.

  ‘What are you doing?’ shouted Dave.

  ‘I’m going back to the trail.’

  ‘Hey, wait,’ said Aaron, catching up with her. ‘We’ve been checking out the map. It looks like this path takes a loop around the mountain a few miles and then comes back just past Grant’s Peak. I say we follow it. No use backtracking. We’ll waste time. Plus, it’s late. If we go back now we won’t get to the lodge until midnight, or later. Why don’t we go ahead a little longer and make camp somewhere? We’ll put a safe distance between you and this place. How’s that sound?’

  Laura was silent for a while. She looked into the dark woods, waiting. Nothing moved. Finally she looked at Aaron.

  ‘Fine,’ she said.

  * * *

  Another mile down the trail they came upon a shack in the woods. It was to the right of the path overlooking the valley. There was a chimney on the roof and smoke poured out of it. In the yard in large piles were cords of firewood. Faint firelight came through the windows of the shack.

  They stopped on the trail, talking in hushed tones.

  ‘What do you think, guys?’ asked Dave. ‘Should we go ask if we can bed down?’

  ‘Sounds like a good plan to me,’ said Aaron, throwing him a withering look. ‘For once.’

  Laura shook her head. ‘We should keep going.’ She hadn’t spoken during the walk there. She’d felt like someone, or something, was following them. Watching them from the tree line. ‘We’re too close,’ she said.

  ‘Not that again,’ said Steph, crossing her arms. ‘Don’t be such a pussy. It was probably just a porcupine or something.’

  Laura stepped toward her. ‘Just shut up, Steph, or I’ll make you shut up.’

  ‘Whoa, whoa!’ said Aaron. ‘Why don’t we all just calm down? Look. Whatever you saw, that shack is probably a hell of a lot safer than sleeping out in the open. Don’t you think?’

  Laura said nothing.

  ‘I think we’d better go check it out,’ said Aaron. ‘Besides, I don’t know about you guys but I’d like to get some sleep tonight. Somewhere warm and out of the elements sounds pretty damn good right about now.’

  They all nodded. It was decided.

  They walked up to the house, navigating piles of wood. An owl hooted in the darkness of the forest, and the moon shone bright and full. Aaron knocked on the door. No one answered. ‘Hello?’ he said. ‘Anybody home?’ He knocked again.

  Dave peered through the windows. ‘Doesn’t look like anyone’s home, man.’

  Aaron shrugged. ‘Let’s go inside. Maybe he went out to take a dump or something.’

  Laura clutched his arm. ‘That’s someone’s house, Aaron. We can’t just break in.’

  Aaron tried the knob: it turned freely. ‘Jesus, you’re such a stick in the mud. It’s not breaking in if it’s open. There’s nice people all along the trail offering food and board. I’m sure this one’s no different.’ No one argued with him so he pushed the door wide.

  A flood of firelight fell on them as the door opened. They went inside. A fire was crackling in the hearth, sending up sparks. The room was small and cramped. Open wood beams stretched the length of it and various herbs hung from them. There were a few old dressers collecting dust, some books on local flora and fauna, a water jug, a sink full of dirty dishes. Best of all was a pot of savory-smelling stew hanging over the fire, filling their noses with scents of roasted chicken, butter and herbs. Their mouths watered.

  ‘Excellent,’ said Dave, ‘I want some of that! I could eat a horse.’

  In the corner of the room was a bed covered with animal skins. Hanging above it was a dream catcher made of bones.

  Steph went over to it and twirled it around her fingers. ‘Gross,’ she said. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Some weird decoration or something,’ muttered Dave.

  ‘It’s a dream catcher,’ said Laura. ‘It’s supposed to protect you from nightmares, and give you good dreams.’

  ‘Hello?’ said Aaron, pacing around the small room. ‘Anybody home? We’re hikers from the trail just passing through. Hello?’

  ‘No one’s here,’ said Dave, looking sadly at the stew. ‘Maybe we should go. It wouldn’t be right to stick around, you know, if he’s not here…’

  ‘No,’ said Aaron. ‘We’re staying. Once the guy gets back we’ll give him some money. Got any cash on you? We could leave the owner a few bucks for the food.’

  Dave nodded vigorously and took out his wallet. He slid out a five dollar bill.

  ‘Cool, that should do it,’ said Aaron. ‘Now let’s check out that stew.’

  ‘All right!’ said Dave, putting the bill under a salt cellar.

  Aaron rummaged in the cabinets for bowls. Laura walked slowly around the room, peering at knickknacks and books. There weren’t any photographs or mementos. Just weird things made of animal bones: dream catchers, animal carvings, even a small lamp.

  Aaron, Dave and Steph helped themselves to the stew and sat around the fire, eating noisily and chatting. Laura didn’t like being there, eating the owner’s stew. It was disrespectful. Whoever he was, he probably wouldn’t appreciate it. And a lot of people who lived in the wilderness had guns.

  Laura was going through the books by the bed when she found a very old volume bound in soft leather, patched in places. It was very heavy, and when she opened it there were hundreds of pages of neat script. It looked like a sort of diary, except there were sketches… anatomical sketches of bodies, human and animal, depicting their bones, flesh, tendons and muscle tissue. It looked like an ancient copy of Grey’s Anatomy. How old was this book? It felt ancient.

  Laura peered closely at it, trying to read the copperplate handwriting, but the words were in German. She had taken half a semester of German in college before dropping out; she hadn’t paid much attention in that class. The language was so guttural, so primitive, not romantic like French. But she recognized a few words…

  ‘Tot’ meant Dead, she knew. Creepy.

  ‘Fleish’… flesh.

  Laura passed over several sentences she didn’t understand and squinted at a word.

  Opfern… opfern. Wait a second. Didn’t that mean ‘sacrifice?’

  She heard footsteps on the porch outside and the sound of heavy breathing. Everyone stopped eating and froze. The blood drained from Laura’s face. Slowly, the front door swung open.

  A man stepped inside, haggard-looking, middle-aged, wearing suspenders to hold up his baggy jeans and a flannel shirt. His face was pockmarked with scars.

  He was carrying a rifle.

  ‘Huh,’ said the man, looking skeptically at the hikers. ‘I wasn’t expecting no visitors.’

  ‘Sorry sir.’ Dave trembled, gaping at the gun. ‘We just assumed you’d be right back.’

  ‘You helped yourselves to my stew, meantime.’

  No one spoke. The
man held his gun. He watched them, expressionless.

  ‘Dave,’ Aaron stammered, annoyed. ‘Give him the money.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ Dave pulled the five dollar bill from underneath the salt cellar and thrust it at the man. The man peered down at it as though it was a strange artifact from a foreign land.

  ‘Money? No, no. You keep that.’ Suddenly his demeanor changed. He became friendly. ‘Don’t be silly, I was only fooling. I host hikers all the time. That’s what you are, right, hikers?’

  The group nodded. Dave gulped.

  The man smiled at them. ‘Well good! Chow down. My name’s Earl. How are y’all?’

  He grabbed a bowl, filled it with stew, and joined them at the table. One by one they introduced themselves, though Laura stayed by the bed, still holding the book. Sacrifice, she thought. Why was that word in there? Earl turned to her and smiled, pointing. ‘I see you got my granddad’s old sketchbook there. Damn sight, ain’t it?’

  Laura swallowed. ‘Sketchbook, you say?’

  ‘Yes ma’am.’

  What’s with the sketches of human bodies?’

  ‘Laura!’ Steph hissed.

  Earl waved her to sit down with his big meaty hands. ‘No, it’s all right. She’s got a fine point. My granddad has pitchers of dead bodies in there.’

  ‘Eew,’ said Steph, looking uncertainly at her bowl of stew.

  ‘Don’t I know it,’ said Earl. ‘Nah, those are just copies of pitchers from old books he was into. He wasn’t no doctor, my granddad, but by God he sure wished he was.’

  Laura didn’t seem convinced. Earl thrust his hand forward. ‘What’s your name, young lady?’

  His scarred face, his dark eyes, his broad shoulders – everything about the man made her uncomfortable. Was he the figure watching her in the woods? Did he follow them back here? ‘Where were you just now?’ said Laura.

  ‘Me?’ Earl smiled at her and pointed at the gun. ‘Just out back hunting ‘coons.’

  ‘Coons?’

  ‘Raccoons,’ said Earl. ‘Them bastards been making a mess of my compost bin. I need those food scraps for my vegetables, but try telling that to them fellas.’ He shrugged. ‘I get one or two every now and then. They got dens in a clearing out back. I like to hang around and wait for ‘em to come out. They’re nocturnal, you know. But I suppose they caught on to me and built another den, or at least a different exit, because I ain’t seen tell of them lately. Not for some time.’