by Rosaria, A.
Sarah scrambled away. The zombie’s claws hit her back, ripping open her leather coat. If not for the body armor she wore underneath, the claws would have opened her up. The force of the blow sent her rocketing forward. Sensing the zombie go in for the kill, Sarah dove to the ground, rolled sideways, and jumped on her feet. The zombie barged past her and whirled around at the landing to the stairs.
Sarah charged forward, jumped, and drop-kicked the zombie’s chest, sending it sprawling back down the stairs. Sarah sheathed her knife, drew her revolver, and snapped it open. By the time she finished reloading, the enhanced zombie was again halfway up the stairs. Sarah aimed and shot. The zombie jumped sideways, hit the floor, and dodged her bullets. It came barging up again. Sarah cursed and fled.
Priss stood at the open bedroom door, aiming her rifle, about to shoot. Sarah dove for the floor. Priss shot twice. Sarah heard a plopping sound as the bullets hit their mark. Sarah didn’t bother to look and see if Priss had felled the zombie. She scrambled up and went for the door opening, climbing over the bed to go through. Priss slammed it shut behind her. A second later, something heavy rocked the door.
Spacey pried the last plank from the boarded-up window with a crowbar. He wore the body armor on his bare body, had one of the backpacks strapped to his back, and the Sig tucked between his belt. He faced her, shotgun in his hands, offering it to her. Sarah waved him away. She picked up the P90 and slung it over her shoulder.
The zombie went haywire against the door. Cracks formed in the wood. They had less than a minute to make their way out before that thing got inside.
Sarah threw her backpack and Priss’s out the window.
“Now you guys, get out!” Sarah yelled. “Priss, you first. Spacey, you next.”
“No,” Spacey said.
Sarah groaned. Priss went to the window. “I can’t. It’s too high.”
“Sir, go first. You can catch her.”
It was Spacey’s turn to groan. Sarah noticed that when she called him sir, he listened better, at least more than when she called him Spacey. If only the old obstinate nut would tell her his name. She’d rather stop calling him Spacey.
With athletic grace, Spacey climbed out the window, hung for a second, and dropped down. It was a seven-foot fall. He hit the ground like it was nothing. Sarah pushed Priss toward the window. “Go.”
The zombie crashed against the door. The door post shuddered and a piece of wood broke out. Through the crack, Sarah saw the zombie reposition in and out. Claws hit the wood, each hit sending pieces flying.
Sarah pushed Priss to make her hurry. The girl was halfway out when the zombie got an arm in the room, clawing at Sarah with hateful vigor. Priss hung on the ledge.
“Hurry, let go.”
Priss dropped into Spacey’s arms. Sarah placed one leg over the windowsill. The door split in two after a forceful blow.
“Fuck this.” Sarah pulled her leg back in, bent over, and grabbed one of the homemade Molotov cocktails. She fished her lighter from her pocket. The first try she got sparks. The zombie burst through the door, pieces of wood sticking out, digging into its flesh, entangling it in place. It forced itself through, demolishing anything holding him back. The lighter sparked and didn’t catch.
The enhanced zombie scream pierced her soul, chilling Sarah’s blood. The lighter sparked and caught this time. She licked the flame to the rag, and fire whooshed with a satisfying hunger. Sarah threw the bottle. It soared in the air and hit the enhanced zombie square on its face as it lunged for her. It recoiled back, swatting at the fire riding over its face. For a second Sarah, expected it to go out, but then the flames danced all over the zombie’s body. It trashed around the room, trying to get the fire out. Every place the zombie touched caught fire. Sarah watched the room transform into a blazing inferno. She squeezed herself out the window.
Sarah glanced back at the enhanced zombie writhing in the flames. “Burn, motherfucker, burn.”
She dropped herself, landing into a roll. Spacey helped her back up. Priss handed her a backpack. Not wasting words, they sprinted for the forest. The enhanced zombie’s screams chased them as they fled.
CHAPTER NINE
They collapsed on the forest foliage after a night-long march. The day’s first sunrays crawled over Sarah as she pushed herself toward a tree and rested against it. The backpack pressed uncomfortably into her back, but she didn’t have the energy to care. Priss lay a few feet from her on her side, breathing hard. Spacey was on his back beside Priss, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. This was the first time Sarah had seen the old man act his age. His skin shone with sweat. He sat up, staring into the distance with a painful grimace that exposed every wrinkle in his face. He was handsome and didn’t look a day over fifty, and that on his worst day. Twenty years ago he must have struck quite an image.
Sarah massaged her legs. They burned like the fiery pits of hell resided in them. She guessed that running the whole night did that to you. Well, no, they did not run the whole night, only the first hour after fleeing the burning house. The remaining time they went at a fast trot. They had to blunder in the dark. She had kept going, one foot after the other, tripping on pebbles, praying not to fall, for there was no getting back up if she did. And above all else, praying the sound behind her wasn’t the enhanced having caught up with her. In short, it had been hell. Running, jogging, walking, or whatever they did to get through the night, she was in agony. The whole night hurt. It hurt losing her refuge, a home that fate threw in her lap and claimed back in short order, allowing her enough time to enjoy it for it to hurt being homeless again.
Sarah exhaled, feeling some tightness leave her shoulders. What mattered was that they survived another day. She stared ahead at nothing for an hour, her mind blank, feeling her body become one with the tree. If they stayed to rest, they would fall into a stupor, and by the time they woke up, it would be dark and they would have lost any gains they made during the hellish night before. Sarah stirred. Her bones cracked and her muscles screamed obscenities as she stood up. She shuffled toward Priss and prodded her side with a boot. “Wake up!”
“Leave me alone,” Priss grunted. “I want to sleep.”
“Can’t do that.”
“But I want to.”
Sarah kicked her again, this time a little harder. “Stand up!”
“No.”
“Priss!”
Priss sat up, glaring at her with puffy eyes. “Being bossy is a turnoff, you know that, do you?”
Sarah scowled. Priss stood up on unsteady legs. “And bitchy at that.”
Spacey was already on his feet, staring in the distance at something only he could see. That man should wear some clothes. The combination of shorts and body armor was not appropriate attire for the changing weather. Sarah shivered and tugged her coat tighter. She wondered how he endured. Maybe she should start calling him Icy. The old man faced her with an expressionless face, cold eyes resting on her. She reconsidered; she should not antagonize him with a new nickname.
“We leave now,” he said as he strode past her.
No point asking him where he was going. Sarah slapped Priss’s butt and motioned with her head for her to follow. She forced herself into a watchful state as she took the rear. Last night, the enhanced burned in a blaze, but with those things you never knew for sure if they stayed dead unless you cut the head off. To be safe, they needed to make the distance.
They walked for hours before reaching a deserted road. Right now she would kill to have a car and guzzle the needed miles before nightfall. They passed a sign showing the way to the town she and Priss had planned to visit before the ambush happened which Spacey saved them from.
“Do we turn back?” Priss asked.
Spacey kept walking, not bothering to answer. Should she follow suit? Go their own way? She thought better and said, “No, we follow him.”
Priss frowned. “Is it stupid to turn back?”
“Yup.”
Priss fell silen
t for a while, then her voice squeaked. “Am I stupid?”
Not this again. Sarah kept walking.
“You do think I’m stupid!” Priss said, less squeaky now.
Sarah sped up to catch up with Spacey.
“So you’re saying I’m an iron ball tied to your ankles, is that it? I’m slowing you down. Am I?”
“Not now, Priss. We have more important things to bother about, like our survival.” It hit harder than she intended. Priss stopped. Sarah faced her. Priss dropped to the ground and lowered her face into her hands. Her shoulders convulsed with heavy sobs. “I’m worthless.”
Sarah stretched out a hand to touch her. Priss slapped it away. “Just leave me.”
Sarah kneeled in front of Priss and hugged her tight against her chest. “Never.”
Priss sobbed into her embrace. “I’m so, so, so tired. I can’t go on.”
Way the time to have a meltdown. They’d all had one or more since the outbreak. You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t.
“Go without me.”
“Never!”
“It will be better for you.”
Sarah nudged Priss so she looked into her eyes. “Look at me.”
Priss avoided her eyes.
“Look… at… me.”
Their eyes locked. “You are my only friend. I trust you with my life. Leaving you behind would make my life not worth living. You understand that?”
Priss gave a small nod. “But—”
Sarah pressed her lips on Priss’s mouth. It was a gentle kiss. Not a romantic one, there was no heat behind it like when she kissed Ralph, but it felt good and right. It was the best way to show Priss how much she loved her. Priss’s eyes widened as her cheeks colored a deep red.
“Will you now stand up and walk?” Sarah said in mock sternness.
She helped Priss up. Spacey stood a hundred yards away waiting for them. As they reached him, Sarah wanted to hit the smug, judgmental smile off his face.
After another hour, they made a sanitary stop. Ten miles later, they reached a gas station and stopped to rest. From the low-hanging sun, she guessed they had at most three hours of daylight left. The gas station was the best shelter they’d found so far. Whoever worked this gas station before things went to shit must have lived at the nearby town. No one in their right mind would drive hours for minimal pay.
Sarah’s bones ached and her feet hurt. Stopping enticed her, yet with a clenched belly, she followed inside after Priss. Priss dropped down and nestled herself on the floor. Guess that decided it. Rest they would.
About to lie down next to Priss, a noise startled Sarah. She cursed, angry she had not checked the place first. Two zombies lurched from behind a rack and launched themselves at Sarah and Priss. The backpack digging into her shoulders pushed Sarah into a stagger when she braked full stop.
One zombie fell on Priss and the other grabbed Sarah. She barely kept the zombie from chewing her face. Priss was less lucky. The zombie went for her throat, and exhausted Priss didn’t put up a fight. The zombie’s teeth snapped shut on the tough leather collar instead of Priss’s soft skin. Sarah tried to reach her, but the zombie on her went into a frenzy. Both zombies were the trotter kind, faster and stronger than the common slow-walking zombie. A real nuisance. A dangerous one. Very dangerous in the situation they got suckered into.
Spacey kicked the zombie off from Priss before it could do real damage. Sarah needed both hands to fend off the zombie attacking her. Rotten teeth snapped inches away from her nose. Spacey slashed his machete at the zombie on the floor. The blade buried into its skull. Sarah had seconds to save herself, seconds Spacey didn’t have to rescue her. She drew the zombie toward her while sliding to the side. In one motion she tripped the zombie’s leg, forcing it to go down. Unluckily for her, the zombie held on to her. They both went down. She fell on top. The zombie grabbed her head, preventing her to stand up. Its teeth snapped rabidly at her while its dead hands hauled her closer. Sarah withdrew, arching her back in the effort. The zombie held on, drawing closer. Her eyes shifted to her side. Spacey stood motionless, watching her, smirking.
“What the fuck!” Sarah cried out. “Help me!”
Spacey gave her the thumbs up and stayed put. Sarah gritted her teeth and cried out in pain as the zombie yanked a thick strand of hair out. With one hand holding the zombie back, she risked letting go with her other, going for her knife. Her left arm started buckling. With time ticking out, she pulled her knife in one motion and stabbed the zombie through its wide-open mouth. The blade bored in and pierced the neck vertebrae. The zombie fell limp from the chin down. Its teeth clattered on the blade. Sarah yanked the blade out and stabbed its temple.
She got up with a growl and threw herself at Spacey. Spacey caught her by her wrists and pushed her away. All the while he kept that stupid smirk planted on his face.
“What the fuck was that about?” Sarah screamed at him.
“I knew you could handle yourself,” Spacey said it in his calm voice, his eyes lucid and hard on her. The man that stood in front of her wasn’t the nutcase she knew. He bent over and picked Priss up like she was a straw doll and carried her away from the corpses and set her down in a corner with her back propped against the wall. He faced Sarah with the crazy back into his eyes. “We need to keep the little one safe from them.”
“Who are you?”
He didn’t answer her. Somehow they kept their backpacks during their escape and grueling night march. It must have been hell for Priss—her being shorter, smaller, and frailer—to carry hers. It was odd how Spacey now doted over Priss when she was unconscious, while when awake it seemed like the old man did everything to keep his distance. Sarah was fine with that. She didn’t feel the need to be attached to him after what had happened. Besides, she was too tired to bother with it right now.
Sarah grabbed a can of conserved meatballs from her backpack. It would taste better heated, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Sarah admired the can for a second longer, and her smile disappeared. She dropped the can and rummaged through her backpack. Sarah glanced up at where the other backpacks lay. She rushed to get at them and spilled their contents on the ground. Sarah groaned. Off all things to lug around with, she forgot a can opener.
Cursing, she dropped on her knees, picked up the can, and placed it on the floor, top facing up. She must open it the old-fashioned way. She rubbed the grime from her blade, wiped it, inspected it for any leftovers stuck to it. Her stomach turned at the idea that one microscopic piece of zombie could get into her food. She cleaned her knife again.
In her struggle to force the can open, the sharp blade nicked her skin. She sucked the blood off her index finger. The things she did for food.
Spacey sauntered over to her. He stood silent in front of her, his hungry eyes on her food. She glared at him. “Get your own.”
He beamed at her, eyes glinting. He hunched in front of his own backpack and fished out a can. Sarah smirked. Let him try and open that thing with his machete. He wouldn’t be getting any help from her. He stood up, dug his hand in his back pocket, and fished out a small can opener. Within seconds he opened his can and was wolfing it down.
“Crazy bastard,” Sarah said through clenched teeth.
At least she didn’t forget bringing in a spoon. Eating in a more civilized way, she glared at the old man. He wasn’t what he appeared to be at first. Well, yes, he was crazy, most definitely crazy. But the scary side of him emerged in his more sane moments. Whatever had made him go conspiracy-nuts bonkers must have been horrendous.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
Spacey lifted his gaze up, his rugged chin covered in meatball sauce. “I’m me.”
“I know you are you. What’s your name?”
His expression tensed. “You don’t need my name.”
She knew better than to press, but some things she needed to know.
“Who were you?” Sarah pointed outside. “Before all this happened.”
�
��No one.”
“Tell me!”
“No.”
He was turning paler. His eyes haunted. A mad glee in them. “Not for you to know and not for them to know.”
“Which them?”
“They.”
Sarah threw her hands in the air. “Okay, okay, forget I ever asked.”
The old man mumbled to himself. The only words she caught were “them” and “space.” If only she could kick her own ass for triggering this shit, she would try in a heartbeat. With Priss unconscious and Spacey ranting, they had no choice but to stay put. The place was too thin-walled, with windows covering three-quarters of the wall, making her feel exposed. They were in a cage waiting to feed zombies.
Sarah chuckled. Their little world was crashing down into utter lunacy. One small mistake or turn of luck and they’d meet their actual demise. She shrugged, dropped, and rested her back against the wall. The least she could do was go to her end well rested. Sarah shut her eyes.
CHAPTER TEN
Someone moaned. Sarah stirred. She heard a thud, followed by another one. She jumped up awake and immediately crashed back to the ground, clasping her calf. The muscle was rock- hard. Pain coursed from it, blinding her for seconds. Sarah gasped, opening her eyes to daylight shining inside the gas station. Priss was still out. Spacey lay next to Priss, snoring.
Zombies slammed their fists against the door, trying to enter. A vending machine blocked the entrance. She must have been way out of it to not have noticed Spacey moving the vending machine. She was glad that despite his craziness he still possessed enough presence of mind to make the place safer. It was the only thing keeping the zombies outside and not inside, dining on their intestines.
“Priss. Wake up!”
Priss lay motionless. The pain kept Sarah from going to her. Each time she tried to shift her leg, it felt like boiling hot water coursed through her veins. She gritted her teeth and swallowed the pain. She tried not to writhe in pain and forced herself to stay in place. The zombies bashed their bodies against the door. The vending machine slid an inch.
