by Megan Berry
Inside are a couple of rifles that I don’t really recognize their brand or calibre. I’m not really familiar with the long guns and I don’t think I’ll be a very good shot with them, and they are bulky to carry, so I leave them. I can always tell Silas about them when we come back to get the truck. I scan the upper shelves and my heart races at the sight of the boxes of ammunition piled up. I sort through them and come across what I’m looking for- ammo for my gun. I toss them into my bag- I’ll double check them to be completely sure later when I have more light, I don’t want to end up like Barry- I wish I hadn’t just had that mental image.
The fifty pack of cartridges weighs down my backpack, but it’s well worth it. I dig around a bit more, but I don’t see anything else that I really need right this second. Everything I add at this point, I’m carrying on my back, so I don’t want to take too much, the binoculars and the ammo though, were a great find, but now I have to get the heck out of here and get on my way.
I stare at the door in trepidation and unholster my gun once more. I don’t want to be attacked by a man-eating dog, even with the gun, I don’t feel completely safe because dogs are a lot faster than zombies. I crack the door open an inch and peek out, but I don’t see anything. “This sucks.” I mutter to myself, there’s no one else here to hear it, but in a weird way it does make me feel better to say it.
I keep my gun up and creep back through the basement. The stairs are not my favorite. I keep expecting the dog to appear at the top of the stairs and leap down at me, knocking me to the bottom on my back. It doesn’t happen though and when I get upstairs, I head straight for the smashed in door and get back outside. I scan the yard for any sign of the dog, but I don’t see anything. I still don’t like it though.
I’ve wasted at least an hour dealing with the zombies and going through the house, and even though it was worth it for the ammo, I’m anxious to get back on the road. I pass the bodies in the driveway- I could move them, but I honestly just want to get going at this point, and no one has been here since these people turned, they probably won’t show up now. I approach the road, not bothering to look back at the house, but I do scan the road carefully in both directions, looking for any sign of people or zombies. Then I jog across the road and climb over the fence. Sticking to the roads is probably not the best idea, and it will be much quicker to cut directly across rather than follow the roadways, which will add on more miles.
I keep Silas’ compass in my pocket for easy access and aim my direction north-east. I like the open fields rather than the trees because I can scan and see if anything is coming for miles, although that works both ways, so I am more exposed. I wish I had some sort of better camouflage- at least I’m not as easy to spot as I would be in a truck, I guess.
I walk for probably an hour, and even though the day is chilly, I begin to sweat a little inside my coat. I’ve passed a few farm yards, and they are becoming closer together. I don’t completely know where I am without surfacing to a roadway to get an address and check it against the map, but I do know that I’m heading in the right direction, and I tell myself that has to be enough for now.
I see my first zombie, about half a mile away, in the direction I need to go, of course, and I’m honestly surprised that it took me this long to see one. I guess blowing up the bridges from the south the way they did, helped to cut down on numbers, and with everything frozen to the North, the scouts from Louisville have been slowly picking down the numbers.
The zombie still hasn’t seen me, and I’m tempted to change my direction and hope that it doesn’t, but that would take me off my path, and it doesn’t look that big… I bite my lip as I pull my axe from its clip, it’s funny, when this whole thing first started, I never could have imaged the day that I would choose to confront a zombie rather than finding a way around it.
A moan of excitement pulls me out of my thoughts. It’s seen me. I watch as it staggers excitedly in my direction and I pick up my own pace. I want to meet it on my own terms. When I get within fifteen feet of it, I start jogging and dodge around behind it and plant my axe in the back of its skull, just as the zombie starts to spin in my direction.
My arm aches from the force of the impact and the axe is pulled out of my hand as the zombie falls to the ground. I pull the axe from its skull and start to wipe it on the zombies ragged jacket, when the sound of a motor has me dropping to the ground beside the corpse.
The smell is not pleasant down here, but I barely notice it as fear courses through my body. I lift my head as much as I dare and peek up at the road where its visible about half a mile away. I hear a faint moan and glance over at the zombie in terror. Its eyes are open and its staring at me, its mouth open, wanting to take a bite, but it can’t seem to move its body. I must have paralyzed it, thank God.
I still don’t like being this close to it though. I feel for my huge knife without taking my eyes off the zombie and once I have it, I take a stab at it.
The knife enters the skin, but that’s where it stops. Being low on the ground like this, I don’t really have the strength to force the blade through the bone. I look at the zombie and see that both its eyes are staring at the blade planted in its cheek, almost as though in fascination and I can’t help it- I giggle.
I’m instantly horrified at myself and pull the knife out of it’s face, while I ponder just what kind of a sicko I’m turning into. This time I aim for the eyeball and wince at the wet slurping sound as the blade sinks down. I lift myself up a little and force all my weight down on the knife and finally the zombie twitches and then is no longer staring at me like I’m gonna be its last meal. I leave the knife where it is for now and army crawl towards a large rock, to use it as cover, just as a car becomes visible on the road. I hold my breath and bury my head in the dirt, hoping I’m invisible way out here.
I don’t look up until the sound of the engine disappears. I spit out some grass that has somehow found its way into my mouth and stay laying on my belly as I think this through. That car had looked awfully familiar. Is it just a coincidence, or was it looking for me?
I finally find the nerve to stand up, and the first thing I do is jog over to the zombie and retrieve my knife. I’m staring down at the creature, not sure what to do next when I hear the hum of another motor. The sound draws my attention to the road, and I take a dive back towards my rock as a pick-up truck this time, goes flying by from the opposite direction. This doesn’t seem like normal activity, way out here, in the middle of nowhere. I’m pretty sure they’re looking for me, and if I keep walking around in the open like this, chances are pretty good that they’ll find me.
Chapter Ten
I do have a plan B. I thought of it last night in case something like happened. I had foolishly not thought it would though, I was too optimistic. My Dad always says, hope for the best, but have a back up plan and I had done that, but the problem is, I really, really, really don’t want to do it. Just the idea of it fills me with dread.
I need to get off the road right now, or field as it is, and find some shelter, away from these peoples searching eyes and wait for nightfall. The darkness will provide the cover I need to get closer to Louisville- unfortunately it will also cloak the zombies and I won’t know if I’m walking into a whole herd of them until its too late. It’s a damned stupid, miserable idea, and if Silas knew he would probably shoot me dead himself, but no matter which way I’ve looked at the problem, this is the only solution I can think of.
I look around and scan the area, I really can’t just stand here like I’ve magically sprouted roots; or worrying about the zombies after dark will be a moot point anyway. There are a few houses up ahead, and I want to keep going in the same direction if I can help it, so I aim for them. I stop and listen to make sure I don’t hear the droning of an engine coming around again, and when the coast seems clear, I take off at a run. The less time in this field, the better.
I’m not sure if it’s the smartest idea to run, after all, I could be mistaken for a
zombie out here and overlooked, but zombies don’t move this quickly. On the other side of that coin, I could also be mistaken for a zombie out here and shot. I’m damned if I do, and I’m damned if I don’t- I could even NOT be mistaken for a zombie out here and shot. The fear pumping through my heart with each squeeze of blood makes the decision easier for me- my natural instincts are telling me to run, so I do.
I run until I can barely breath, and I keep pushing myself. The backpack slaps heavy against my back with every footfall, but I ignore it. I aim for the closest building and don’t slow down until I see the shadowy figure emerge from the trees as I get closer.
At first, I think it’s one of those people from the vehicles, and I actually breath a sigh of relief when I figure out from its uneven gait that its just a zombie. Just a zombie, the irony is not lost on me. I pull my axe free from my pack and slow to a fast walk as I get closer. The zombie takes another step forward, or tries to, but she doesn’t seem to be moving.
I squint and try to make out what exactly is happening, and it appears that the zombie is caught on a tree, like it tried to walk through a tree that was growing from the same base but split about waist height into two trunks and the zombie isn’t smart enough to go around. I give a quick thank you to the heavens for that one.
The zombie is snarling and snapping and clawing at the tree that’s snagged it around the waist as I walk up with my axe, and I channel some of my frustration into my swing, and the females head practically explodes with the force of my hit- she must have been pretty decomposed. I watch the zombie collapse, still caught in the fork of the tree and then pull my axe loose and use the gory end to poke her backwards so she isn’t hanging where someone might see her and know a human like me came through here. She falls back into the trees with a soft thud and I carefully scan the bushes for anymore of the dead.
The trees surrounding the property are thick and even though I don’t really like the forest-like setting, I keep going, its good cover from the road. I walk for another five minutes, at first thinking I might take shelter in one of the buildings, but I’m not really sure if it’s a safe idea, when a wooden ladder nailed to one of the thick tree trunks catches my attention- I almost didn’t even see it.
I look up a good ten feet, or so, to a treehouse high in the branches. It definitely looks like it’s seen better days, but it might just be the solution I’ve been needing. I haven’t been in a treehouse in probably eight years or more, and I’m not the biggest fan of heights, but a treehouse that high will be zombie proof. I test the ladder and despite the wood feeling a bit soggy and slick with moss, it seems to be securely attached to the tree.
I start to climb, but I don’t make it very far before the weight of my backpack starts to slowly pull me backwards. My fingers can’t find good enough grip to avoid it and I allow gravity to work its course and jump down. I once mocked Silas for the rope that he carried around in his backpack, unnecessary weight, I think I called it, but it really has come in handy these last couple of days.
I pull out a coil of rope and tie one end around the strap of my backpack and the other end, I tie around the leather holster at my waist, just so I won’t drop it while I’m using both hands to climb. I could have put it in my mouth I guess, but I’ve never been a fan of fabric touching my teeth, and who knows what kind of zombie gore has touched this rope in the past. The thought makes a shiver run down my spine just thinking about it.
I start climbing again with more determination and feel a small bloom of excitement as I pass the rung that previously made me fall off. I’m terrified I’m going to fall, especially once I get up high enough to cause injury, but I’m just being a chicken, the climb isn’t bad. I reach the top, just as I start to feel the rope going tight. The resistance pulling at my hip has me gripping the ladder so hard my knuckles turn white.
It’s one of those tree houses that you come up through a hole in the floor and once my head and shoulders get through, I feel comfortable enough to let go of the ladder and rest my back against the wood as I start tugging the backpack up- the rope isn’t going to let me get any higher without dragging it up.
It’s a struggle to fit the backpack through the opening while I’m still halfway through, but I don’t want to risk it falling to the ground and the pressure on the rope tugging me down with it. I’m sweaty by the time I finally pull myself up onto the floor, a mixture of exertion and fear, and I lay on my belly with my cheek resting on the cold, damp wood for a few minutes giving myself a breather.
I start to feel foolish and pull myself to my feet, just because I know a zombie can’t be up here, and it’s literally just a one room tree house, doesn’t mean I should be so lax with my safety. I pull my gun out, just to be on the safe side, even though I feel like, if anyone was in here, they would have already made their presence known while I was helpless and sprawled out on the floor.
The tree house doesn’t have a door, just a crooked frame with some rusty hinges clinging to the edge that looks like it had a door at some point. I poke my head inside cautiously and then relax. A two second glance, and I can see it’s empty. It’s a little bit grim looking with the weathered wood and dried up leaves dusting the floor, but it is probably the safest place I can be right now. I wince at my own bravado and then swiftly reach out to knock on wood- there’s an abundance of the stuff around here, and better safe than sorry, even though I’m not usually superstitious -I can use all the luck I can get these days.
I drop my backpack in the corner and bend down to examine a small, weather damaged stack of comic books. It forms a heavy pit in the bottom of my stomach, and I try very hard not to think about what happened to the boy that used to play up here. I’m not hungry, but I know I need to keep up my strength and there’s really nothing else to do anyway, so I dig in my bag and pull out a handful of fruit snacks. Then a protein granola bar when I start to feel a little guilty about all the empty calories and sugar. Not that I’m worried about gaining weight anymore, I could probably use a good twenty pounds added to my frame, but I’m feeling guilty about Silas and I really want to leave some to share with him when I rescue him.
I fiddle with the binoculars a bit, and get them all adjusted in for my eyesight, but there isn’t anything to look at here but trees. I give it up after a short time and study the map instead. I have no idea where I am though, so it’s not really doing me any good to look at it. I try and guesstimate how far I walked today, but I don’t think I could have covered more than two or three miles before I was forced to stop.
I’m feeling restless after I sit for another hour, so I decide to go poke around a bit below. I need to map my route out of these trees before it’s pitch-black and I don’t dare turn on my flashlight. I leave the backpack in the tree house but toss my axe down to the ground below before I start to descend the ladder. It’s becoming my weapon of choice when I can’t risk the noise of firing my gun, but I don’t want to try carrying it down the ladder with me in case I fall and impale myself.
I make it to the ground and pick up my axe, then start walking in a straight line towards where I think the house should be, I can’t see the peak of the roof anymore from inside the trees. It’s a five-minute walk, in which every crunch of leaves and twigs has me spinning in all directions nervously, but then I reach the edge of the trees finally without incident. I stay back in the shadows as my eyes scan the yard. It’s a small, white house that doesn’t look occupied and it has an unattached garage sitting beside it. My eyes take in the deck furniture and the fire pit, and all the colorful planters that must have been full of blooms in the summer. It makes me a little wistful- none of us will probably ever have another summer like that again.
Then I see the bike leaning up against the side of the garage. It’s a dark colored mountain bike and I stare at it for a long moment considering. Riding a bike in the dark is probably not the best idea, but it will be a hell of a lot faster than walking and a bike could outdistance a zombie much more quickly than I coul
d run. I also would have a lot more stamina peddling than I would have running.
If I take the bike, I will have to stick to the road, but even if the scouts are out at night, the vehicles will have headlights that will show up well before they can see me, and I can get off the road. Walking through the fields in the dark has its own dangers, I could twist my ankle on a piece of uneven ground, a hole, or even trip and fall on a rock, and it’s not like the field is safe from the zombies either- that mental image helps me to decide and solidify my new plan.
I scan the yard for a full ten minutes, wishing I had brought the binoculars with me, and not left them sitting uselessly on top of the backpack. “Just do it.” I urge myself under my breath, and I find talking to myself helps. Finally, I dart out of the trees and march right across the yard towards the bike. No one takes a shot at me, or rushes out and tries to bite me, but I still keep a wary eye out as I near the bike and reach out to test each of the tires. The tires are thankfully still firm, I have no idea how I would have filled them up if they had been flat.
I wheel the bike back towards the trees and it’s not an easy task with all the random branches laying around and the roots that are poking out through the dirt floor. I don’t take it very far anyway. I want to leave it, out of sight of the farm yard, but not so close that if someone starts walking through the trees its going to stick out like a sore thumb and raise suspicion being leaned up against the ladder of my tree house.
