by Rosaria, A.
“Spacey.”
The old man stirred.
“Wake up!”
His eyes opened and surveyed calmly around. First at Priss. He paused a long while on Sarah and then frowned. The vending machine scratched another inch. A few more pushes and they would be inside. Spacey noticed the zombies, stood up, grabbed his machete, and strode to the door. In one smooth slash he severed a small zombie’s arm. A child’s arm. He planted his foot on the vending machine and shoved hard. The door snapped shut. He kept his foot on the vending machine, keeping the zombies from pushing it back.
The pain in Sarah’s calf started to draw back, allowing her to relax. With a grimace, she got on her feet and hobbled toward Priss and bent over the short girl. Sarah let her breath go when she detected Priss’s chest heave up and down. She shook Priss’s shoulder. “Wake up.”
Priss’s eyes fluttered open. She yawned and stretched her arms. “Sarah? Leave me be.”
Sleep was winning the battle in Priss’s eyes. Sarah shook her again to prevent the girl from shutting her eyes. “Wake up. We need to leave.”
Priss tried to push Sarah away. Her hands slid off Sarah’s shoulder, lacking any conviction or strength. With some effort, Sarah got Priss standing. The girl stared at Spacey keeping the door shut. Seconds passed. Priss’s eyes grew huge. She stammered, failing to say anything coherent. Priss gulped and started tapping Sarah. “Zo-Zo… all over…” She wildly looked at each window. “Oh please… no…” Priss groaned.
Sarah nudged Priss toward her backpack. “Gather your things.”
Sarah wore her ruined coat with its shredded back. Enough material remained to protect her neck and shoulders. She grabbed her P90, leaning against the wall. It was about time she got to use it. Outside, about ten zombies were beating at the door to get in. More accumulated at the windows. Their future turned bleaker than a white shirt soaked for weeks in bleach. Sarah cocked a smile. Their present already was like that.
“Move!” Sarah yelled.
Spacey jumped at her cry and looked over his shoulder. His cool expression vanished for a second. Sarah smirked. Payback could be a bitch. She squeezed the trigger. The P90 coughed out a burst of lead. Spacey tripped over his own feet and fell down hard as an unmanly yelp escaped him. The P90 tore through the reinforced glass door. She hit one zombie. Teeth and bone flew around as they exited its skull. Sarah pulled the trigger, again, and again, sending burst after burst. With each one, a zombie dropped to never get back up. By the time she finished, sixteen zombies lay in red and gray goo. Blood, bones, and brains everywhere. She released the clip and slammed a new one in.
“Priss, move your ass! And help grandpa back on his feet.”
Priss rushed to Spacey, who lay sprawled on the ground. The short girl helped the much larger man up. Sarah jumped on the vending machine. The backpack strapped tight on her back made it difficult to crawl out between the open space, but she wiggled her way through before the remaining zombies could reach her. Not wasting any more time, she started shooting. In less than a minute she had killed them all, clearing the ground around the gas station of zombies. Her hands trembled. Her heart raced. The blood rushed up to her face.
She studied the rectangular-shaped rifle in her hands. She needed to acquire more bullets for it. This thing ate them, and how. If possible, she’d keep shooting, till there were no walking dead around for miles. Small. Nimble. And deadly.
She slid a new clip in its place. The spent ones she pocketed. One hundred bullets shot. Thirty-three zombies destroyed.
“Wow,” Priss said as she joined her with a sullen Spacey following. “You did all this?”
Sarah grinned. “Me and my little friend.” She rested the P90 over her shoulder.
“Can I have it?”
“No, you can’t, sleepy head.”
“Hey, I’m not.” Smiling, Priss checked her watch. “Oh…” Her smile disappeared.
Sarah peered up at the sun. It hung high in the sky. They slept through the morning, leaving them six hours of daylight left. Sarah grimaced. They’d paid the price for pushing themselves too far last night. Now they lost all the gains they had made the previous day. They needed shelter, and were left with no choice but to move out to find one after their hiding place got busted up. Sarah gestured for them to advance. After two hours of stiff marching, they came upon a charred pyre in the middle of the road.
“Someone partied all night long,” Sarah said as they approached the pile of wood. All around the pyre lay torn clothes. She didn’t find any shoes, though. Spacey poked his machete in the burned wood, dispersing it. He stepped back, a startled look on his face. Twice today she’d witnessed that. She smirked at his discomfort, that was until she noticed what he’d seen. Jutting out the burned wood were brownish-black bones, partial rib cages, skulls, hips, thigh bones, every bone in the human body and not one in one piece. Some pieces were too broken and burned to identify. She counted three skulls.
“Is someone burning zombies?” Priss asked.
“I hope that’s it,” Sarah said.
Only a large and efficiently well-organized group could make time to burn this many zombies. It was way too much an effort for a small group. With the universe against her, this group probably was the same one the three men belonged to who attacked and killed Kevin. Not people she wanted to run into.
They went off the road, trudging alongside it. It was slow going between trees and foliage, but at least this way they walked under cover, giving them the advantage of spotting anyone waiting in ambush up the road or anyone approaching their way. The only drawback was that it would cost them twice the time to cover the same distance. Two hours later, they reached the outskirts of the burning town.
Sarah and Priss stood side by side, looking at the smoke rising toward the darkening sky. Priss grabbed Sarah’s hand and squeezed hard. It hurt, but Sarah didn’t free herself. The pain kept her awake. Awake to face the reality they wouldn’t find shelter tonight. No, can’t be. Sarah jogged up the road. Priss yelled for her to stop. The backpack weighted her down. She pushed herself to go faster. Maybe, just maybe, it looked worse than it was. The heat became unbearable as she reached the inferno. She stopped. She watched the houses burn into cinders. The whole town crumbled to blackened sooth, and the only reason the forest wasn’t lit up as well was because the wind was billowing away from it.
Sarah felt on her skin that the breeze changed direction. Blood drained from her face as she witnessed the fire lick out and catch on the first trees. The wind blew away from the mountain range, leaving them only one safe way to go. Up.
Priss grabbed her arm. “We have to go.”
Sarah allowed Priss to lead her away from the burning town. This fire wasn’t an accident. Nothing just burned down. With one hour of daylight left, it couldn’t get worse.
Figures waved out from the flames. Sarah froze. It took precious seconds for her to realize that the waving forms would kill her in many horrible ways if she stayed gaping at them with her mouth open. She backed away from a zombie swiping a burning arm at her. The figures walked fast, almost a trot, like the heat consuming them also animated them.
Sarah followed Priss and Spacey, running for the forest in direction of the mountains. She stopped before entering past the tree line and whirled around. She drew out her knife. Five burning zombies gunned for her. If she allowed them to follow, she might not have a forest left to hide in. If the fire spread this side of the forest, it would outrun them before they could reach anywhere safe.
One zombie fell to its knees by itself, wobbled in place, then its face smacked the ground. Sarah jumped over the sizzling corpse and charged the remaining four. Not counting on chance, she cut them down while weaving away from flaming limbs and falling bodies. In less than a minute she dealt with them all.
This must be it. Nothing could top this off on the scale of bad things happening today. The loud report of a rifle reached her. Sarah groaned and fled in the direction Priss and Spacey
disappeared to. She heard another shot. And then screaming.
“Priss.” She sprinted, brushing branches away from her as she careened through the foliage. Trotters were surrounding Priss. Spacey was fending off three zombies while trying to reach Priss. Sarah drew her Ruger and started shooting. Five heads rocked back and five bodies dropped. One bullet missed its target. The zombie bore down on Priss. The short girl screamed and slammed the stock of her rifle against the zombie’s forehead. Sarah heard a loud crack as the zombie’s skull split. The zombie fell limp, but its forward momentum knocked Priss off her feet.
“Get it off me. Get it off!” Priss hit the zombie with her small fists. The weight of the corpse pinned her down. Sarah rushed forward and pushed the zombie off from her. She helped Priss up. “Go grab your things.”
Spacey snapped the neck of the last zombie attacking him. With an intense look, he stared at the downed zombie. In those cold eyes, Sarah didn’t detect the usual crazy gleam, but a scary crazy that made her shiver.
Moans sounded ahead from the shadows between the trees. Sarah grabbed Priss’s hand and towed her along.
“Hey,” Priss said. “You’re forgetting him.”
Sarah shushed her. “No time, he’ll follow when he is ready.”
Not long after, she heard him behind her. She checked over her shoulder. The familiar crazy soulless gleam stared back at her. He smiled. She didn’t answer his smile, instead she focused on running. They couldn’t go fast going up on a slight incline. Thick roots and unkempt plants littered the forest bed. This was nothing like a city park with its flat floors and trees positioned in neat rows at the exact same distance from each other.
Trotters chased them. Ten behind and five to each side. They kept their distance, which in itself was weird. She suspected they were funneling Sarah and her group in one direction. If she didn’t know better, she would think this was a pre-planned action. Running, she loaded her revolver. Being what they were, anytime soon these zombies would attack.
For fifteen minutes nothing happened. Priss’s chest heaved with each breath as she fought with the backpack to keep herself from falling while she navigated the branches and roots. Spacey made his way with little effort. On his own he would have no trouble saving himself. Sarah herself was struggling, but she could keep a faster pace if needed. This was going nowhere fast. The zombies were not attacking, and that scared her more than if they did. There was something making them this way.
“They are keeping track of us,” Sarah said.
“What?” Priss turned her flushed face to her. “They are just zombies.”
Like enhanced were just zombies. Whatever trotters were, they were a step up on the zombie evolutionary ladder. “They are not attacking us.”
“What? You want them to attack us?” Priss ducked under a branch. Sarah pushed it away from her face.
“Yes.”
Sarah unslung her P90. She only had one extra full clip left, and now was not the time and place to load the empty ones. Enough for their stalkers, but not enough for whatever came after if she didn’t conserve ammo.
“You and Spacey go ahead. I’ll catch up with you guys.”
Priss snorted. “I remember how it ended the last time you went all heroic.” She readied her rifle. “This time I’ll cover your back.”
They nodded at each other. Sarah knocked her P90 in the small of her shoulder as she turned. Switching to semiautomatic, she started shooting. The zombies advanced faster than the slow ones at the gas station, making them more difficult to hit. They bopped in and out from the trees, like wolves nipping the calves of a fearful deer. Sarah missed the first five shots. She snarled in frustration. She calmed her breathing, stepped forward twice, timed the movements, and shot. A head snapped back, and a zombie tumbled over.
“To your left,” Priss yelled. Her rifle flashed. A zombie hit the ground and slid by Sarah’s feet, brain pouring from its head where the bullet had blasted the cap off. Priss fired twice more. One zombie hit in the chest staggered back. Another bullet tore through the nose of another zombie. That one went down.
Sarah grabbed Priss by the elbow. “Move.”
They hurried away. Any plan keeping the trotters at bay evaporated. Their moaning rose to a frenzied crescendo as they mindlessly gave chase.
“You got them riled good now. Happy?” Priss said.
Sarah flashed Priss a ferocious grin. “I’ll slow them down. When you hear the shooting stop, give me cover fire till I reach you.”
Priss nodded. Sarah whirled around and fired from her hip fast. The bullets tore into a zombie ten feet from her; one knee shattered, its crotch blew into a misty red hole, and its chest caved in. Having its manhood severed didn’t stop the zombie the least bit.
Sarah aimed. Shot. Sidestepped away from the falling zombie. Shot. Backtracked at a jog. Shot again. Another went down. Her back hit a tree hard and she bounced forward. She shot and ducked under the downed zombie. Rose. Shot. This time she could not step aside fast enough. The body hit her, glanced off her, and made her stagger. The next shot went wide.
Thirteen pairs of hands tried to grab her. She shied away and ran. One zombie reached and would have grabbed her if not for a bullet entering its skull. Sarah ran toward Priss, who kept shooting at a steady pace, each shot downing another one. Sarah reached her and whirled around to start shooting at the incoming zombies. Seven were rushing at her.
“We finish them together,” Sarah said as she pushed the P90 in automatic fire.
Sire fired her clip empty while Priss made each shot count. Sarah got four and Priss three.
“We got them,” Priss said. “We really got them all.”
She beamed and seemed an inch taller. Sarah started laughing. They did it. They hugged each other. Sarah noticed Priss’s hair smelled nice. She wondered when the girl found time to wash it.
“Are you done?” came a serious voice behind them.
Both Sarah and Priss jumped up.
“It’s almost night,” Spacey said as he looked down at them. “There is no shelter.”
The nutcase was right. Whatever the deal was with the trotters, they survived that one hurdle, but the one coming after, they might not survive. They went deeper into the forest. With no shelter, only luck could save them. Blind dumb luck.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
With no moon in the sky, darkness claimed the forest into pitch-blackness. The only light in this abyss was their flashlight beams. With luck having abandoned her, she needed to make her own from now on. The flashlights lit the area ahead of them. They didn’t have enough batteries to last them for days. They depleted most of them the previous night during their grand escape. This was their last charge. Sarah cursed herself for not packing more. In her defense, who could have suspected they would be on the road for so long?
“Priss, Spacey, turn your flashlights off.”
They slugged forward on her light alone till it flickered out. Next, they used Priss’s flashlight, and not long after, Spacey’s. If only she had thought about saving the batteries sooner. They could have gone through the whole night with light. She checked her watch. Four hours to dawn. The flashlight flickered out.
Sarah hoped the distance they’d covered was enough to have outrun the enhanced zombie, and that she was worried about nothing. The enhanced perished in the fire. Wishful thinking had not brought her anything good this past year. Hope. Wishing. Wanting something good. She looked over her shoulder, frowning. Darkness followed her. It surrounded her. All signs pointed at not putting trust in hope.
“What are we going to do now?” Priss’s voice was laced with fear.
“We wait.”
Laughter floated toward them. In the distance, a light flickered. Priss noticed it too. “Who are they?”
“Beats me.”
“Are they from the same group that attacked us?”
It could be. More laughter. Merry laughter. Not the kind of laughter she expected from bad people. Whoever was at that ca
mpfire should be more careful about exposing themselves like this.
“Let’s take a look,” Sarah said.
“Okay.” Priss raised her rifle a little. Sarah smiled at that. The girl was learning.
“Stop,” Spacey said. “It could be them.”
They heard a loud male voice followed by more laughter.
“They don’t sound like any of the sinister things you can’t stop ranting about. Come on, Priss.”
They stalked toward the campfire, careful not to make a sound. Getting nearer, they heard fragments of the conversation. Sarah distinguished two men and several women.
“This is not the time to tell scary stories,” said a scratchy male voice.
“Hey, we need to unwind, laugh danger in its face, and live life at its fullest,” another man said. Going from the honey-laced voice not tarnished by time, she guessed he must be about her age.
The young man urged a young woman to tell a story. She laughed at the banter directed at her to egg her on to start. Sarah assumed her to be the young man’s girlfriend. Sarah used to sound like that around Jake, her now dead ex. Bile crept up into her mouth as she remembered him.
“The world is scary as it is,” scrappy voice said, “no need to make up stories about it.”
Sarah, Priss, and Spacey crept closer. The campfire lit up the faces of the people lounging around it. They huddled so close to it that they wouldn’t be able to see anything ten feet out. Sarah was sure she could stand up from behind the shrubbery she used for cover, wave to them, and stay unnoticed. She didn’t risk it, though. She signaled Priss and Spacey to keep quiet. She wanted to assess their situation before deciding to expose themselves to this group. They seemed nice enough, but appearances could be deceiving. Making a hasty decision based on first impressions often ended with a knife in the back.
