"Yeah. Now, I've got to get you out of here. Come on get dressed."

XIII

The Reverend smelled rain. He thought perhaps that was what had awakened him.

Whatever, he was restless and could not sleep. He went to the window and looked out.

The rain was starting to come down in big drops. The wind had picked up and it looked as if it might storm.

The Reverend looked at his pocket watch. Late.

He lit the lantern, sat down on his bed, and read from his pocket Bible.

XVI

Once it began, it happened fast. The dead were hungry. They went to the houses of friends, relatives, and enemies. Those of the living who were not completely devoured soon joined in the hungry ranks.

XV

The Reverend decided on a walk. He could neither sleep nor concentrate on his reading.

He dressed, dropped the pocket Bible into his pocket, and went downstairs.

III

THE FINAL SHOWDOW

I SAW THEIR STARVED LIPS IN THE GLOAM,

WLTH HORRID WARNING GAPED WIDE...

—KEATS

When the Reverend passed Montclaire, the fat man was sleeping, as usual. On the desk were four greasy plates and the sad remains of a chicken that Montclaire had ravaged.

The Reverend stepped out into the street, and at that moment, as if it were waiting for him, all hell broke loose.

Down the street came David, running at full speed. When he saw the Reverend he began to call out. "Help me, Reverend. Help!"

At a considerable distance behind the boy, the Reverend could see Joe Bob Rhine. He was coming at a quick sort of stumble in pursuit of David.

David practically ran into the Reverend's arms.

"Whoa!" the Reverend said. "You and your father have a fight?"

The boy's face was wet with tears and marked by panic. "He's going to kill me, Reverend.

Make me like him. For the love of God, Reverend, help me!"

The idea of slapping a fist into the side of Joe Bob Rhine's head greatly appealed to the Reverend. He didn't like the big bully. But on the other hand, he didn't want to meddle in personal affairs which were none of his business, and violent activity this late at night (or early in the morning, depending on one's outlook) offended his sense of decorum.

But he would see the boy didn't take a beating.

"Maybe I can talk to him." the Reverend said.

"No, no," David said looking back over his shoulder. "He's dead."

"What? Why there he is, boy," and the Reverend pointed at Rhine who was lurching up the street as if his feet were tied together by a short rope.

"He's dead I tell you!"

The Reverend looked at Rhine again, and as he neared, he saw there was blood all over his face and neck. He looked to have suffered a terrible wound. In fact, there were large chunks out of his face and bare chest. The Reverend thought perhaps David had done it in self-defense. An axe maybe. And Rhine, injured (but certainly not dead) was coming for revenge.

"Look!" David said.

The Reverend turned. Out of the alleyway that led to Doc and Abby's house, a horde of people appeared.

"They're dead, Reverend. I don't know how, but they are. And they can walk—and—they tore my mother apart." The boy broke into a sob. "Broke into our house. Got Ma— tore the guts out of her. And Pa, he—I got out of a window. For Christsakes, Reverend, run!"

More people appeared behind Rhine, They came out of alleys, out of buildings and houses. It was a small army of stumblers.

The Reverend put one hand on his revolver, pushed David up the street before both ends were closed off. They had gone only a few steps, when out of the alley by the Doc's office, came a buggy. Doc was driving, popping a whip, and Abby was sitting beside him, holding a shotgun.

The crowd of dead in front of the buggy were knocked aside by the horses, and the buggy charged into the street.

"Doc " the Reverend yelled.

Doc saw the Reverend and David. He hesitated for an instant, perhaps trying to determine if the two were alive or dead, then he pulled the buggy hard right—raced toward them.

A man grabbed at the buggy wheel then fell beneath it. The wheel went over his neck, breaking it. But when the buggy passed, the man rose—chin dropping on his chest— neck bone sticking jagged out of his nape—and walked.

Doc slowed enough for David and the Reverend to swing in back, then he whipped hard left and started down the street toward the church at a gallop.

A crowd of dead citizens had gathered in their way. As the Reverend pulled his revolver, Doc yelled, "Hit them in the head, only way to stop them."

Abby raised her shotgun and fired. One of the zombies, missing the top of his head, fell to the ground.

The Reverend's revolver barked four times, and in the wink of an eye, four of the zombies were wearing holes in their heads. They fell permanently lifeless to the ground. Doc pulled the small revolver from his belt with his free hand and blew out the eye of a woman as she clutched at the side of the buggy.

A big man (Matthews who owned the general store) leaped astride one of the horses as the buggy rumbled through the crowd, clamped his teeth into the back of the animal's neck. A gusher of blood streamed from the horse, it stumbled, the other horses tangled their feet and went down.

The buggy tumbled over and pitched its occupants. The Reverend came up rolling. The fallen horses kept most of the zombies occupied, the guts of the animals were stretched across the street as the dead battled and tugged for the edibles.

The Reverend jerked around to David's yell, and there was Montclaire, looking far more active than he ever had in life. The Reverend slammed the barrel of his pistol into Montclaire's head, and David jumped behind the man, hitting him in the back of the knees bringing him down.

David scuttled to the Reverend's side as Montclaire lumbered to his feet.

Abby had lost her shotgun, and Doc, standing beside her with his pistol, was firing steadily, dropping the creatures. His gun would soon be empty.

David darted for the shotgun Abby had lost, grabbed it. The Reverend raced behind him.

A little girl David's age charged at them. David, hesitating only a moment, raised the shotgun and fired. The shot hit the girl in the neck and her head flew up. The body whirled in a circle, pumping blood, and finally fell. The head landed in the street, teeth snapping.

David froze, looking at it. The head was trying to bite the ground with its teeth and pull itself along.

The Reverend snatched the shotgun from David, and using the empty weapon like a club, smashed the head.