Surf Zombies and Other Horrors

My mind kept going back to this Mark Twain quote I’d read, something like: "I don’t believe in ghosts, but I’m afraid of them". It would distract my mind temporarily from the throbbing pain in my left hand. I looked at the gauze and couldn’t see any more blood seeping out, which I took as a good sign. Three of the fingers had been cut deep, probably to the bone, but at least they were still attached. I looked at the other faces shivering around the campfire, saw fatigue and fear, and assumed they saw the same things in my face. We were afraid all right, but this was no ghost story.

As the shadows grew longer, the group’s anxiety became palpable. The cheese ‘n cracker dinner was nibbled at nervously, rather than to silence our growling bellies. The makeshift blind was taken down so that nothing would obstruct our view, and the uneasy vigil began with each of us keeping watch in a different direction.

All our senses were strained to their limit, till even the soft sound of a bird landing on a branch high overhead would cause at least one of us to stand with a white-knuckle grip on our chosen weapon. Every leaf that stirred, every mystery object that plunked into the nearby creek, quickened our pulses and respiration.

The darkness that buries the Earth every night comes fast in the mountains. Soon the visibility of our surroundings became very restricted, causing us to strain our ears even harder. Conversation was kept to a minimum and held in soft whispers. Every dancing shadow cast by the fire was viewed with suspicion and we expressed quiet gratitude that our lone surviving flashlight was Armin’s big lantern that cast a strong beam far and wide.

The hours oozed by at a snail’s pace. We remained fully alert due to fear and with the aid of instant coffee drunk communally from the lone mug that was not filled with battery acid. I finally gave up looking at my watch; my attention couldn’t make the hands move any faster.

At the darkest point of the night, Kari surprised us all by announcing the sun was rising. I checked the time: four-thirty. That was much too early for sunrise. My confusion was further heightened when I looked at the orange glowing light seeping over the hill Kari pointed at and realized she was facing south.