The Midnight Wailing Explained

Unfortunately, last night wasn’t another peaceful one. I think I had been asleep for about two or three fitful hours before Carl was shaking me awake. He had a shotgun in his hand. Ellen was standing behind him, and she looked terrified.

It took me a moment or two to figure out what was happening. Then I heard it. I don’t know how I had missed it. The wailing was constant, high pitched and loud. It sounded as if a young girl was feeling terrible pain, abject sorrow or both. The cry rose and fell, but never stopped. The overall intensity, however, never stopped. With each passing second it worked its way deeper into me. Soon, I was shaking. I couldn’t tell whether it was fear or compassion for whatever was out there making that noise.

I looked into Carl’s face and understood what he wanted to do. We were to go out there and help that creature if it was human and kill it if it was a zombie. Carl helped me up, and Ellen passed me a shotgun.

“Load up with shells,” she said.

“What’s the plan,” I sighed. “Are we coming back here?”

“Yes,” said Carl. “We’ll leave everything here and come back.”

We crept cautiously outside. The streets appeared to be empty, but the wailing dominated. It echoed off buildings and through the alleys. Every time we thought we were getting closer, the sound seemed to come from another direction.

“Here,” breathed Carl. He was peeking around the corner into an alley. It was strewn with all sorts of garbage, overturned cans and junk. I could see motion near the back. The wailing here was loud and direct.

Ellen and Carl slunk against each side of the alley and approached whatever was moving back there. I followed behind them, perhaps twenty feet back, and I kept looking behind us. This would have been a bad spot for an ambush.

Ellen seemed to be waving me forward. I hurried up, peering ahead. I saw what might have been long hair. Maybe a soiled nightgown. The girl was rocking back and forth and crying. For a brief moment, I was sure I saw my Frances. I had to stop myself from running forward. My rational mind told me it could not be her.

I was much closer, nearly even with Ellen, when Carl switched on his light. Immediately, the wailing became more agitated. It was deeper, almost like a growl. The head whipped around from side to side, as if the girl looking for the source of the light.

Carl turned off the light and started to wave us back the other way. He came up to us and said, “We should get out of here.”

“We can’t leave her here,” said Ellen.

“That’s no girl,” said Carl.

She headed quickly back toward the creature. She switched on her light. Almost at once, the wailing turned into a hysterical screaming. Ellen turned and tried to run, but the pale figure was on top of her immediately. It was swiping at her with its long fingers.

Carl and I both bolted forward. Carl started firing. I could see the buckshot pepper the frail looking creature. Dark, thick blood spurted in all directions, but the zombie didn’t fall. I started to fire, as well, and two or three of my shots hit home, yet the creature still stood over Ellen and flailed away. Ellen had curled into a ball and covered her face with her hands. Her forearms were shredded and bloody.

Carl was now on top of the zombie, and he put the muzzle right to its head. The blast took off part of the skull but didn’t stop the creature. He fired another shot point blank into the head. This time, the creature shuddered and dropped. He fired again and again into the body until it was a black, pulpy mess. The thing didn’t really have hands, but long claws. The nails were four or five inches long, and looked very tough.

Ellen was barely conscious. She had a deep gash on one cheek, and the skin on her arms hung off in ragged strips. We hadn’t brought any first aid supplies and weren’t sure what to do for her. Carl handed me his gun and heaved her up over his shoulder.

“I’ll try to carry her. We’ve got to get back quickly.”

Since we had wandered quite a bit in order to find the source of the wailing, it took us some time to figure out how to return. All the while, Ellen’s life bled away. The blood flowed from several different places, and she was so torn up that we couldn’t identify all of her individual wounds. After a few minutes Ellen started moaning and whining in pain. Her face was pale. I was pretty sure she wouldn’t make it.

Nevertheless, Ellen did survive the trip back to the safe house. We patched her up as best as we could and hoped that the most serious bleeding had stopped. Neither Carl nor I have any idea how bad she is, and we hope she’ll last through the rest of this long night. It is just after 3am, and I could really use some sleep.