Autumn Zombie

           The Ozarks were alive on that autumn morning; falling acorns thundered against the tin roof of the old cabin that had once belonged to Benjamin’s grandfather. The lushness of the summer had vanished leaving withered, dying leaves on the tall trees. The maple leaves were a bright, boisterous red color, and the chestnut’s leaves a burnt orange. August and September had fled, bringing a lustful gold lighting that one could only find in an October sky.

 Benjamin looked around at the old cabin, his wife and son were playing with a wooden train set on the front porch. Giant pines planted years before Benjamin was born graced the baby blue sky. Benjamin recalled a story his mother told him of his grandfather planting the seedlings years ago, “I won’t live to see these trees, but your children will.” Benjamin hoped his grandfather would be happy if he could see that he was still hunting these woods, and that his great grandson was playing happily on the porch of his old cabin beneath the pines.

 Benjamins wife, Sasha, was holding a steaming tin mug of hot cocoa near her face. Benjamin wanted to remember mornings like this with his family. A tangle of leaves rustled across the ground. The pine trees, still vibrantly emerald, swayed romantically in the wind. Sasha was wearing an indigo, plaid flannel shirt; her wavy hair was blowing lightly in the breeze, sun rays catching on her golden blonde highlights, a gift from the summer sun.

Benjamin’s son was tracking a spider curiously with his eyes. “Call me if you need me, I’m going a half mile up the road.” He kissed his wife and son on the forehead, sad to leave them, but anxious to climb into his tree stand. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and headed north on the gravel road. He passed his favorite pond from his childhood on the right, he spent many summer days fishing on the rickety, old dock. He remembered being chased across the bank by a cottonmouth snake, the memory sent a shiver across his arms, Benjamin feared snakes more than anything else.

He passed the remains of an old rock house further up the gravel road, long ago it had burned down with an elderly couple inside. They slept through the beginnings of the fire, and couldn’t make it out in time. They burned alive, right there, where the rocky frame still stood. The thought of melted, blistering skin on fire made Benjamin’s stomach turn. He imagined the old man and woman screaming violently as they burned alive. Did they hold each other in those last moments, or were they fighting to escape somehow? Benjamin wondered how long someone would be conscious if they were burning alive. Could they feel the heat? Did they turn completely numb, their nerves perishing in the flames?

Benjamin always wondered if the old couple’s ghosts remained in the woods, it felt spooky on the family land, especially around Halloween. Benjamin found his tree stand in the same place it always was, nestled against a thick pine tree with a view of a wide break in the trees where the electric lines traveled, a perfect shooting lane. Benjamin had toiled the earth and planted food plots there in the summer, hoping deer would show up for him in hunting season. Benjamin inherited this family land from his mother’s side; she said it had been in the family for hundreds of years. It was important to keep the land safe, and take care of it. He looked forward to the day when he could pass it down to his son, and let the legacy of land continue through many more generations.

Time passed slowly as Benjamin sat in the tree stand, concealed by the pines. Squirrels chattered in the tree tops. Eventually a deer with wide antlers stepped into the food plot, he was magnificent and perfectly muscular. The deer’s body moved shyly across the food plot, hesitant with every step. Benjamin raised his rifle and aimed with his scope, knowing his grandfather would be cheering him on if he could see this deer. He felt his grandfather’s spirit with him them telling him to exhale as he softly pressed his finger to the trigger.

A loud shot broke the silence of the woods, the deer jumped and sprinted into a thicket of brush and trees. Benjamin climbed down the ladder feeling certain he had hit the deer, but disappointed he would have to go searching for it. He took light steps through the fallen leaves, careful to watch for snakes. He tracked blood droplets across a dry river bank, the trail leading deeper into the forest.

 Benjamin heard movement further ahead, his pulse quickened with every step. The deer was laying on the ground, kicking and moaning violently. Benjamin could see a bullet hole in the deer, right in front of his rib cage: a perfect hit. Curiously, he crouched to the ground and watched the deer from a distance. Why was the deer still moving? He had certainly hit the deer’s lungs, why was it still moving so much?

 The deer turned his mangled body, blood dripping down the side of its coat in thick clots. The deer began to stand up. Benjamin gasped, a sense of panic setting in. The deer looked around, the once inky black eyes glazed over. Blood trickled from the corners of the deer’s eyes.

The deer’s antlers were much bigger up close than they looked from the stand, at least ten points of white bone stood out from the deer’s head. Fear filled Benjamin’s mind, he had to be hallucinating; the deer should have been dead by now and there it was, standing ever so still.

The deer pawed at the ground, violently, and let out a deep groan. The deer’s head swiveled slowly to face Benjamin. This wasn’t the way deer usually moved: they were quick, alert and jumpy. Benjamin’s hands shook and his arms shivered uncontrollably as he tried to reach for the pistol in his belt holster. He was shaking so badly that he fumbled the weapon onto the ground, he fell backwards as he tried to get up from kneeling. He pushed himself back across the leafy ground, clouds loomed over head and rain droplets began to fall softly; breaking the long drought.

Benjamin considered running towards the cabin. It wasn’t very far, probably a quarter of a mile away. He worried about leading the deer towards his family. The eyes of the deer glowed an unnatural red, not like the maples leaves. It was a hue of red that could only be paranormal.

The deer charged after Benjamin. He turned and took off running towards the cabin, dropping his rifle. He ran faster than he ever had before, faster than he ever had run during his time on the high school track team, faster than he ever had in a game of football beneath the Friday night lights. He knew his life was dependent on making it back to the cabin.

Nearing the cabin, Benjamin yelled out to his wife, “TAKE THE BABY INSIDE!”

 “GET INSIDE!”

“SASHA, RUN!”

 Benjamin could hear the deer at his heels, he was lucky to have had a head start. The deer was grunting with gnarly depth, he had never heard an animal make a sound like that before. The cabin came into view and Benjamin watched Sasha sweep their baby boy into her arms and disappear behind the cabin door. Sasha returned to the porch with a rifle in hand, she aimed as Benjamin let out a roaring, “NO!”

 The shot of the rifle rang through the forest, the bullet flew dangerously close to Benjamin’s body. It hit the deer, and stunned it. The deer snarled, it’s mouth was frothy, a bloody tongue hanging out. Everything about the deer looked as if it was deceased, other than the glow of the red eyes. Benjamin grabbed his wife by the arm and jerked her inside the cabin, slamming the door behind them. Their son wailed on the floor, terrified. Benjamin tried to slow his own breathing; his chest hurt from running and his lungs felt like they were on fire. “What the hell was that thing?” Sasha asked, crying uncontrollably. “I don’t know, but we have to get out of here.” Sasha held the baby close to her chest as Benjamin collected all of their most important items. “Here’s what we’ll do…I will distract the deer and you put the baby into the truck, got it?” He handed his wife the keys. “Whether I make it to the truck or not, you have to go.” Sasha was shaking her head and pleading no between tears.

He looked out the cabin window, the sun was starting to sink lower on the horizon leaving the sky a hazy lavender. A full moon hung just above the top of the pine trees. The deer was nowhere in sight.

The cabin door creaked open, fear crept across Benjamin’s skin as they stepped onto the old wooden porch. They passed the wooden train set, still laying where their son had played joyfully that morning in the crisp of the autumn air. They quickly loaded into Benjamin’s truck, a vintage Ford painted white, and slammed the doors shut.

The feeling of safety had not yet settled in, Benjamin turned the key and the engine roared to life. The tires squealed as Benjamin navigated out of the gravel drive, leaving his grandfather’s beloved cabin behind them. He looked into the rearview mirror more than he looked ahead, expecting to see something following them. He thought about the land his grandfather had loved so much, wondering if he had ever seen anything as terrifying as the deer that wouldn’t die. A tear trickled from the corner of Benjamin’s eye knowing he would never feel safe going back there.

 Benjamin checked the rearview mirror again, he wasn’t sure if it was paranoia—but he swore he saw two glowing red eyes, peering out of the trees. Full body chills set in as he pulled onto the main road, a beautiful array of colorful trees lined both sides of the highway: yellows, reds and browns. How can October be so beautiful and haunted at the same time? Benjamin thought to himself trying to make sense or rationalize what just happened. The craziness of it all was consuming.

When Benjamin grew older and grey, he had grandchildren of his own. He loved to tell the tale around a campfire, of the deer that wouldn’t die.

“Zombies are real, I’ve seen one with my own eyes,” His eyes would become big as he retold the story.

“You’re silly, Grandpa. Zombies aren’t real,” the little kids would mock him.

Benjamin sincerely hoped they would never learn for themselves that they were.