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bodies he had disposed
of were finally coming back for him, to punish him.
    “ Ain’t no good thing you can’t turn rotten.”

Michael knew they were coming.  They were trying to escape.  They’d
all been denied their final requests for an honest cremation and for their
ashes to be scattered and given to the wind.  Now the well had granted
them all one final wish, and it was a wish that involved Michael – he knew it.
    They wanted him.

He threw himself on top of the jarring cover, trying to prevent it being
battered apart, but even with his weight added, the cover was being viciously
smashed to pieces from underneath him.  He felt the wood giving way as it
split in two.  Rolling off, he landed in the dirt.  As he scrambled
to his feet, he could already see the rotted arms bursting through the wood
into the shafts of moonlight beaming through the canopy of trees. 

Turning around, he sprinted through the trees towards his home, knowing that if
he could get to it, he could retract the ladder and the angry spirits wouldn’t
be able to get near him.  Just as he broke through the clearing, however,
Antonio’s BMW tore onto the dirt road, illuminating Michael in its high beams
and blinding him, causing him to throw up his arm to shield his eyes from its
glare.

Antonio and three large bodyguards jumped out of the car, their guns drawn.

“Where is he?” Antonio asked; his voice filled with menace. “His assistant said
he came here and didn’t return.  What did you do with him you sick piece
of shit!  You killed him, didn’t you?” Antonio said, his gun pointed at
Michael’s chest.
    “No… the doc?  He came here days ago and dumped
a body, it wasn’t even a body, it was still moving…” Michael stammered,
struggling to form the words.
    Antonio nodded, lowering his weapon in frustration.
“So that’s what he did with patient zero?  I see, but now we have to kill
you and add you to that pile of stinking flesh in there – you know too much.”

Michael knew they were going to kill him, but he didn’t care. Those things were
about to descend upon them anyway and if the moans from within were anything to
go by, they were angry… and hungry.
    Still, one last ray of hope sliced through his
mind.  In the next few minutes, if he could get away, he might yet forget
all this and start a new life. With the savings he had, he could retire and
hide away for the rest of his life – Mexico sounded nice.
    Turning, he headed into the woods quickly, before
Antonio and his men could react.
    “Don’t let him get away!”

Michael heard the bullets whizzing by, and then felt one slam into his right
shoulder, sending him screaming and tumbling to the ground hard, slamming his
temple into a tree root.  He immediately rolled back onto his feet, and
began running again at full speed.  The bullets were still flying, but no
longer in his direction.
    The bodies had caught up with them.

“The fuck?” Antonio said aloud as he and his bodyguards unloaded into the howling
mob running their way. “Is that Sammy Tucci?  I killed that scum myself!”

The bodyguards continued to fire on the crowd, but as they drew near, it
quickly became apparent that it wasn’t people they were dealing with – the
bodies of all those they had slain were coming for them, rotted hands
outstretched and grasping air. 
    “Jesus Christ…” Antonio breathed, stumbling
backwards towards the car. 

Antonio took a defensive position behind his men, but as the monsters rushed
their position, he made a run for it, leaving his three bodyguards to be
overrun by the relentless charge of the rotting carcasses that should have been
rotting inside the well.

Antonio saw Michael slipping into the crematorium just as the screams of his
dying men hit his ears.  He leapt into the driver’s seat and turned the
key, and when his headlights illuminated the scene before him, he proceeded to
vomit all over the steering wheel.  Piece by piece, his men