by Megan Berry
Why does every damn zombie in the area have to be out lurking around on this interstate tonight? I bite back the frustration, as well as a fair amount of terror too. I really have nowhere to go with the zombies behind me, so I keep going forward and hope for the best. Maybe I will come across another road that I can turn off and go around?
I’m pretty much convinced I’m going to find myself in the middle of a zombie hoard any minute, but what choice do I really have, other than get off my bike and take off into the trees – which is a terrible option too, but one I might have to pick.
The dog is clearly agitated, and I wish there was some way the creature could communicate with me, so I would know exactly what I’m up against. The dog whines and I shush it again- and it actually listens, which makes me think it knows enough to be scared right now.
I keep peddling, but not super hard. I just keep the bike going a slow and steady pace in case I need to put my feet down and come to a screeching halt. I go for another five minutes before I discover what has the dog acting so sketchy. Zombies, and a lot of them.
I put my feet down and get the bike stopped pretty damn quick. At first, I’m not sure what exactly is going on, but the second I spot them, I expect a chorus of moans to start up as they take after me. They don’t. I peer at them harder, squinting in the dark and finally figure out why. They are not headed in this direction, they are going the same direction as me, towards Louisville- not good. This highway is basically a funnel that will lead them right up to the main gates. I don’t know exactly how many zombies are in that group, but if I had to guess I would say a couple hundred. The smell is overwhelming.
I’m scared the dog is going to do something to draw attention to us, but when I glance down, it’s just sitting by my feet shaking. I realize that I’m probably going to be the one that draws attention, standing here like an idiot, if any one of those zombies happens to look back here, they will see me and set off the alarm.
I’m almost too scared to move, scared I’ll draw attention to us just by moving, but it has to be done. I don’t even waste time trying to silently get off the bike, I just aim it towards the ditch and ride it into the grass with the dog hot on my heels. I jump off the seat like it’s on fire and crouch down- it is not ideal, zombies could be sneaking up behind me from the trees. The back of my neck starts to prickle uncomfortably, and I turn around and stare into the darkness of the trees. It is impossible to see anything in the tangle of forest though, and with my back is to the horde, the back of my neck again starts to prickle because now the other zombies could be sneaking up on me. There is no winning in this situation, so I put all my faith in the dog, who is pressed up against me shaking and hope like hell it will warn me if something gets too close.
I grip my axe so hard that I’m sure the woodgrain is etching itself into the skin of my torn-up palms, and I try and think my way out of this situation. It’s really too bad that I don’t have a pair of ruby slippers right now that I could tap together and take me away from this place. On one hand I can take off into the trees. The trees will be dark, almost impossible to see, so the chances are good of an unforeseen zombie attack, but it will be less zombies than are out here now. The dog leaves my side and heads towards the trees and begins sniffing around, and just like that, I’ve made my decision. I start to seriously wonder if finding this dog wasn’t somehow fate intervening in my impending death. I might still die out here tonight, but the dog has been helpful so far in preventing my demise.
I pull myself out of the grass, making sure I stay so low that I’m practically bent in half as I head towards the trees. My first step into the forest and I step loudly on a crunchy stick, which nearly has me jumping out of my skin. I can barely see my hand in front of my own face and I’m pretty sure this is a horrible idea.
Despite knowing how bad of an idea this is, it’s the lesser of two evils, so I take another step and then another and start heading deeper into the woods. I catch myself just as I’m about to walk into a tree and its not a comforting thought to see how close a zombie is going to be able to get before, I’m able to see it. The only thing I have going for me is its an even playing field, a zombie won’t be able to see me very well either, not that I’m completely sure how they find their prey.
The dog brushes up against my leg occasionally, but otherwise we travel in silence, just the crunching of our feet against the forest floor, but its unavoidable. After twenty nerve racking minutes the dog finally lets out a growl and I know with a certainty that there is a zombie nearby. I stop walking and reach down and put my hand on the dog’s head to quiet it, and then we both stand there in silence- I even hold my breath. I hear the clumsy tread of its foot falls right away and it sounds like it’s off to the left of me. I grip my axe and reach down and grab the dog’s collar in my other hand when it looks like its going to take off.
The dog tugs against my grip and for a minute I fight to hold onto the collar before I realize that the struggle is causing too much noise. I let the dog go and it takes off like a shot. I hear a dog growl, matched by a zombie moan and then the heavy thud of something hitting the ground. The zombie is growling like crazy, and so is the dog and they are going to attract way too much attention if I don’t find a way to shut them up. I rush towards the noise and can just make out the flailing struggle of limbs as the dog has the zombie down on the ground.
It is a very small zombie, and I try not to think about that as I lean in and line the axe up with the zombies wobbling cranium. I get the axe planted in its forehead and then plant the heel of my boot dead center on the top of the stick to drive it home. The zombie stills and the dog trots over to me and sits down beside me and starts thumping its tail against a tree.
I want to scold the dog, but it really wasn’t being a bad dog. It warned me about the zombie, then found the zombie in the dark, and tackled it so I didn’t have to, which made it much easier for me to take the creature out. I bite back my initial reaction and pet the dog on the head, and it pants loudly.
I realize then that my reaction to chastise the dog sprung from fear. If something happens to the dog, I won’t have my travelling companion anymore. The dog has grown on me these last few hours and it has really saved my ass more than once. A dog like this is valuable, and I would hate to see its life get snuffed out because it was too brave. I pet the dog again and it leans its head into the touch, and I am extremely glad that it was this dog that I unknowingly saved, and not something less useful… like a cat.
“Let’s keep going.” I whisper and the dog seems to understand me as it rises from its haunches and stands beside me ready to go. I take a minute trying to get my bearings, but it’s impossible. I pull the compass out of my pocket and hold it up to my face, but I can’t see a thing. I don’t want to risk turning on a flashlight since the beam will cast a big glow, but I need to do something, or I’m going to get lost and waste valuable time.
I’m struck by inspiration and I pull my backpack off and dig, by feel, in the front small pocket. I pull out a lighter from a waterproof bag and even though I still don’t think it’s a good idea, its not as damaging as a flashlight. I hold the compass in my hand, ready, so all I have to do I glance at it and then my thumb ignites the flint and I blink.
Just like I was worried about, I’m facing the completely wrong direction. I rotate to adjust, double checking the compass is pointing me in the right direction and then I let the flame die. I stand there in the darkness again without moving for a few minutes, listening to see if I just attracted every zombie in this stand of brush. Nothing moans or groans and the dog doesn’t growl, so I finally let myself breath. It’s a chilly night, but I’m stress sweating like crazy right now.
I continue walking and after another hour, or maybe longer, I start to hear the noisy rush of water. I know that sound all too well. I’ve done a crazy circle and come back to the banks of the Ohio River. It’s not exactly how I planned to get here but coming in from the river bank was the plan, I’m jus
t not sure how far off my course this little detour took me.
The dog and I walk for another few minutes and slowly I notice that the night is not so dark, the trees are thinning out and moonlight is able to peek through and light my path a little better- it helps because then I can travel a little quicker without the fear of walking into a tree.
The trees thin out a bit more and suddenly I’m no longer standing in the trees at all, but back on the sandy, muddy, wet bank of the river. The dog growls and I look around and spot a zombie staggering around down by the bank. I can tell it’s a zombie by the jerky movements and this time when I head towards it, the dog doesn’t run forward and attack. The noise of the water masks my footfalls and I walk right up to the zombie and plant it in the back of the head with my axe.
The creature falls down face first and I use the boot in the back of the axe trick to make sure its dead for real. Then comes the not fun part. The zombie is obviously male from its height, build, and clothing, and I have to do my due diligence and flip it over to make sure its not someone I’m currently searching for, its too difficult to see properly from the back of the creatures head, and I don’t want to walk away and start second guessing myself.
I grab the zombie’s arm; already pretty sure this isn’t one of them and start to tug it over. The dog obviously thinks I’m crazy and starts to whine. I shush the dog and finish my awkward flip and am relieved to see I’m right. The zombie has the face of a stranger.
I leave the zombie sprawled out by the waters edge and head back a little closer to the trees. I don’t like the trees either, but again, it’s a judgement call and I don’t really know what else to do.
I don’t need the compass to chart the right direction, Silas and I were up and down these banks so many times, that it’s ingrained in me which way leads back to Louisville. A place we were always careful to try and avoid, but now I have to go back. The dog remains close to the river when I start walking, and takes a long drink, before running back to walk beside me. I keep an eye on his behavior, but he seems to be pretty relaxed right now. I do worry that the rushing water might be messing with his hearing though, so maybe he isn’t as reliable a source as he was before. I keep an extra eye out, just to be on the safe side.
I’m beginning to get tired after the events of the night, but I know if I stop, I’ll have to wait for daylight to pass to be able to try and implement my plan again, and I’m getting too impatient. Silas is locked up in a town that could very well get overrun by zombies soon.
The very idea makes me nauseous, so I keep pushing myself. I need to find some way to identify where I am on the map, then I’ll be able to calculate how much farther I have to go before I reach Louisville. That will involve going up to one of these river front houses and finding an address, which will waste more time, so I might be better just to keep walking and I’ll know when I get there.
Louisville keeps their lights off at night, so the entire thing will be dark, I don’t think even I could manage to walk past it though without knowing. The dog lets out a low growl and I feel like crying and stomping my foot and screaming ‘no more!”.
The axe hasn’t left my hand in hours, and I barely even feel the pain in my hands or legs anymore- just when I hit a zombie and the force of the hit reverberates back up the handle. Unlike the last zombie, this one has spotted us and is actively making its way towards me and the dog. The dog runs forward and jumps at the throat of the zombie, launching itself off the ground with a ferocity that half terrifies me. The zombie is female and not much bigger than me and I run forward to strike the creature between the eyes before it ends up biting my dog.
Movement in the corner of my eye has me spinning and changing direction as another zombie emerges from the trees. This one is a teenage boy that looks like he didn’t quite hit puberty when he turned. I feel bad for him, but his loss is my gain because he doesn’t tower over top of me. I rush forward to meet him as he’s making a beeline for the dog and smack him over the head with the axe. He goes down, though he’s still struggling, and I rush to stomp on the axe, pushing it further into his head.
He gnaws the heel of my boot for a second before the blade damages his brain and I don’t spare him another glance as I reef the axe out of his melon and run to help the dog, who’s locked in its own battle with a zombie. Once again, the dog has a zombie by the throat and its so far prevented the zombie from being able to take a bite out of the dog, but I don’t like the way the flailing arms are thumping the dog in the head.
Anger spikes through me and I put so much force into my swing that I don’t even need to stomp on the axe to push it in deeper for the kill. The axe makes it halfway through her skull on my first try. This time the dog doesn’t leap so spryly off the corpse, and I look at the animal with concern. There is no way this animal can keep this up. I’m going to need a leash or something to keep it from attacking every zombie that starts heading in my direction.
I start walking again and the dog follows me with a bit of a limp, and I hope to hell that it didn’t get bit. I know that animals don’t become zombies, at least none have so far that I’ve seen, but that doesn’t mean that the bite might kill them, hurt them, or at the very least, lead to a nasty infection. Its finally the dogs limp that makes me make an executive decision to stop, at least for a little while. I need to find somewhere safe to take a break, and to hopefully figure out how much further we have to travel. I don’t really want to stop though, it will just prolong the horribleness that we are dealing with today and stretch it out until tomorrow night.
Every muscle in my body is aching though, not even mentioning all the torn skin from my fall off the bike, so maybe a short break, somewhere safe where I can take stock of me and the dogs’ injuries isn’t the worst idea on earth. The next house I see, I turn down the pathway that leads from the river to the driveway and knock quietly on the door.
The dog sits by my feet and doesn’t seem overly concerned, so I almost start to feel excited that we lucked out, when the dog’s ears perk up at a scratching from the other side of the door. The dog lets out an enormous bark and I nearly pee myself. “No!” I tell the dog swiftly, and its tail droops. I glance around, wanting extra bad to get inside, even with the zombie on the other side. I try the door knob and it doesn’t want to open.
I don’t want to risk breaking the door in and compromising the safety of the house, so I start to climb up the twelve of so steps that lead to a second level deck. I open a gate that leads to a large deck with a hot tub and the dog follows me without hesitation. I step around the hot tub and focus on the door and spy the glass sliding door. I knock on the glass as quietly as I dare, and it doesn’t take long for a zombie to appear.
It’s an older looking man, or what used to be a man, now his body is half decayed and every time the creature helplessly bats at the glass, he leaves a greasy streak behind. I wrinkle my nose up and gather my courage, then I try the door and it wants to open, so I let it open a crack. The zombie immediately tries to stick its face through the small opening, though its head is much too big to actually fit, and I reward its efforts with a knife wound to the eyeball.
Chapter Thirteen
The zombie crumples against the glass and remains slumped over like that, half standing, half leaning, until I open the door farther and the creature falls out onto the deck with a loud thump and the dog rushes forward to sniff it.
I stand cautiously in the entrance of the house and listen for anymore sounds that might mean another zombie. I don’t have to listen very loud- I don’t even need the low growl that the dog issues. I can hear another zombie somewhere in the house and its making one hell of a ruckus. I make sure the dog comes inside with me and then I shut the door as quietly as I can. I don’t want to accidentally let more zombies inside that I’ll have to deal with.
I follow the source of the noise to the bottom of a staircase, but I can’t actually see what’s happening down there. I pull my flashlight from my pocket and risk turnin
g it on since I’m inside- even though I know its not ideal because of windows. I’m gonna have to risk it, or I won’t be able to clear the house. I snap on the light and aim it down the stairs to where a female zombie with long, tangled blond hair is beating fruitlessly against a door.
I recognize the other side of the same door I knocked on earlier. The zombie spins around at the beam of light that hits her, and her face makes me cringe. It’s mottled grey with decomposition and she has large bite marks and torn skin. The dog growls and I put a calming hand on its head as I take a few cautious steps down the stairs.
As far as I’ve seen most zombies do not have the coordination to navigate stairs successfully. The zombie rushes forward hungrily when it spots me and the dog gives a low warning bark, which I shush. The zombie hits the bottom of the stairs and goes down, falling onto her belly, she keeps trying to writhe her way up towards me. Her bony fingers reach out and she grabs the stairs and begins to claw her way- she would probably eventually make it, but I don’t have that kind of time. I take the remaining few stairs that lay between us and plant my axe into the back of her head. It was relatively easy because she was so conveniently laying on her belly.
I step on the axe this time, to be sure, even though the zombie has stopped moving. The dog lets out a small whine and I climb the stairs to pat it on the head. I pause and listen for anymore things that go bump in the night, but the house is quiet. It is standard protocol to clear the entire house, but I don’t have the energy to go dispatch any zombies that might be locked up in bedrooms. I have no intention of falling asleep in here, and the dog isn’t giving any warning sign that something might be wrong.4
The dog takes off, its nails clicking loudly on the hardwood floor, and I follow the dog for a little while to see where it goes. Finally, I realize the dog is just being a dog and sniffing its way around, so I leave it to its own agenda and go check out the kitchen. The kitchen is beautiful, second level overlooking the river, with lots of windows that provide enough light that I don’t have to worry about turning on the flashlight.
