by Glyn Gardner
Sgt Procell led them in south a few hundred meters. Suddenly, he stopped and held his left fist next to his ear. Freeze! Then he motioned his open hand, palm down towards the ground. Get Down!
SSgt Brown duck walked next to him. Wordlessly, Sgt Procell held up 2 fingers then pointed off to his front right. SSgt Brown saw the two zombies that the younger man had spotted. They were about 50 meters away moving right to left. One was a thin guy in a grey suit. SSgt Brown could almost picture this zombie carrying a briefcase as he attacked some poor defenseless secretary. The second was a younger black kid, maybe Jackson’s age. The kid had a purple and gold ball cap on with purple tee-shirt and jeans. Just like all the other zombies they’d run into, the front of his clothing was covered in blood.
Both zombies seemed oblivious to the group’s presence. Sgt Procell looked at SSgt Brown and then pointed to the hilt of his still sheathed bayonet. SSgt Brown shook his head no. Just let them pass. And they did.
After several minutes the group continued moving, slowly and quietly. Every time Sgt Procell saw a zombie they’d go to ground and wait for the danger to pass. This worked for quite a while. Then it happened.
They group was maybe another mile closer to the river when Sgt Procell saw five zombies in a loose group, walking at an angle in their direction. Again the group went to ground, and waited for the danger to pass. The closest zombie was about 10 yards from Sgt. Procell when it stopped.
The zombie was female, maybe she was thirty or so when she died. Her nose was missing, and the flesh had been removed from the entirety of her right arm. She wore a long black dress that was split up the side. Sgt Procell thought she must have been on her way to a party of some kind when she was attacked. Although she was missing her nose, she stopped and seemed to sniff the air. Her head turned left and then right.
She looked directly at Sgt Procell and let out a moan. The other four zombies stopped in their tracks and began looking in the direction of the black dressed zombie; who was now walking towards the group. They too began to moan excitedly as they advanced.
Sgt Procell didn’t hesitate. He leapt towards the zombie in the black dress, driving the butt of his M-4 into what would be her nose. She crumpled to the ground, but did continue to reach for the warm pink flesh of living breathing prey. Again, he smashed her face with the butt of his rifle. After the third blow, her skull finally gave way with a sickening crunch.
He looked up just in time to see SSgt Brown knocking another zombie to the ground with his rifle. The zombie was much smaller than the larger NCO. It wasn’t that the zombie was a child, as much as it looked underfed. Sgt Procell wondered if this zombie had somehow been a street person or drug addict or something along those lines. Not that it mattered now. It lay crumpled in a heap on the ground, its skull crushed from repeated blows from SSgt Brown’s black rifle.
The other three zombies were right on top of the two soldiers. Sgt Procell swung the butt of his rifle at the closest one, knocking it to the ground. Without giving it another thought, he charged the next zombie, knocking it to the ground with a side kick. He turned to the third one, but SSgt Brown was kneeled over it, withdrawing a bloody bayonet from its head. He turned his attention to the two he’d just knocked down. Sam was jamming his big-assed-knife into the brain of one, and Theresa was slamming the butt of her shotgun into the head of the other. The moaning finally stopped.
He looked around. The five zombies were all down and unmoving. Suddenly the silence was broken by another moan. Theresa saw the new threat first. “Behind us!” she shouted. They all turned. There behind them were six zombies. They were close! SSgt Brown recognized some of them as ones that had passed by them before.
Damnit! “That way,” he yelled as he pointed east. “Go!”
Everyone ran. As usual, Shane was the slowest. He lagged behind some, but was able to stay fairly close to the group. SSgt Brown dropped back to stay with the slower man. He could tell that the man’s limp was becoming more pronounced.
The latest group of zombies continued to fall behind. They also continued to moan, calling more zombies to the area. To make matters worse, the trees were thinning out. They were moving into another open area. He looked back at the approaching zombies. Too close, he thought. He didn’t have time to stop and survey the area.
He jogged up beside Sgt Procell. “Go south and slow it down. I’m gonna check out this field.” Sgt Procell turned right and watched the Scout NCO sprint for the edge of the trees. He had no idea what SSgt Brown’s plan was, but he’d better come up with something pretty fast. There were other zombies in the woods to the south, and they were walking right towards them.
He glanced over at SSgt Brown who was now climbing a tree. Really, he thought, a tree? He turned back to the zombies. They were now walking straight at them, maybe 50 meters away. Here it comes, he thought. There were three of them and they began moaning at the same moment.
He glanced at SSgt Brown. Thank God, he thought. The big NCO was waving franticly for them to join him. “Hurry,” Sgt Procell urged them. “Go!”
When Shane, the last one, made it to SSgt Brown, he pointed across the field. “There’s a north-south road right over there about 300 meters. There’s nothing between here and there. Get us to the road, and then south.”
As they ran across the field, SSgt Brown noticed that the shadows were getting very long. The sun was setting and they were way deep in Indian country. He looked over his shoulder again. Shane was two steps behind him, limping away. The zombies were about 25 meters away. His heart sank as he realized that they were not going to be able to run forever. They needed to do something.
He turned back around. There were about ten zombies that he could see. They were in two groups but those groups were close enough together that they were effectively one. They had stretched out a bit when the survivors had turned into the field.
He turned and ran back to Sgt Procell. As he passed the others, he told them to get ready to start shooting. When he caught up to the younger soldier, they had almost reached the small rise that separated field from the road. “Stop here,” he ordered. Then, in his best NCO voice, he bellowed “Contact Rear!”
Everyone turned around and began picking out targets. It only took a few seconds for SSgt Brown to realize just how badly he’d miscalculated. The ten original zombies were now being joined by more, lots more, pouring out of the wood line; a wood line that was only about 100 yards away. The closest zombies were all down now; time to move again.
He grabbed Shane. “Grab Theresa and Ms. Hebert and head for that truck,” he ordered. Shane could see he was pointing at a big orange and white rental truck that had been pulled over to the shoulder about 200 meters away. Shane grabbed the two women and ran as fast as he could to the road.
Ms. Hebert was the first to reach the truck, followed by Theresa, and then Shane. Theresa immediately circled the truck, shotgun at the ready. She’d done this before and wasn’t going to get surprised again. As she reached the far side rear corner, she heard a scream. It was Ms. Hebert.
She rushed to the driver’s door and threw it open without hesitation. The adult male zombie just missed grabbing her shirt. She jumped back, losing her footing and falling on her butt. She raised her shotgun in an attempt to fend off the monster, but it was still in the driver’s seat of the truck, flailing its arms at the young girl. It took her a moment to realize that the zombie was still buckled into the seat.
She stood up, straightening her shirt before shoving the shotgun under the chin of the still moaning, immobile zombie. The shotgun bucked as the zombie’s brains exploded over the roof of the cab. Satisfied, she reached over to unbuckle the zombie and let its lifeless body fall from the cab.
It was then that she realized that the moaning had not stopped. It was different but there was still a moan emanating from the cab. She recoiled, again falling on her backside. This time she slowly climbed onto the step, peeking into the cab. She caught herself as she almost fell from th
e step for the third time.
In front of her was the most horrible scene she could imagine, more horrible than her parent’s death and her mother’s reanimated corpse pounding on their front door. What she saw in the cab of that truck was even more horrible than hearing Davey say his last good-bye before taking his own life.
In the center of the bench seat of the truck was a child’s car seat. The moaning was coming from there. Tiny grey arms flailed at the new stimulus that its eyes and ears had detected. It’s high-pitched moan calling for more, grown zombies to come and enjoy the feast that had entered its sensor range.
One of the arms, the one closest to the driver didn’t have any meat on it, except at the very tips of the fingers. Theresa had never been much of a baby-sitter, and therefore wasn’t sure how old the child was. She could see that it had two little teeth poking out of its top gum. She was frozen in horror as she watched the dead baby try in vain to claw its way out of the car seat. On the other side of the truck Ms. Hebert continued to sob, her brain unable to even process what her eyes were seeing. Shane stood beside her in the same catatonic state.
Sgt Procell could see the trio standing outside of the truck, not climbing in as he ran. What the hell were they waiting on? He didn’t know if he should be concerned or mad. The closer he got, anger began to win. They weren’t even watching their own backs. He began to yell at them as he ran
“What the fuck’s wrong?” he yelled. “Get that fucking truck started!”
They didn’t even acknowledge him. They just stood there, transfixed by something inside the cab of the truck. God Damn it! He barreled past Shane and Ms. Hebert, and climbed into the cab.
He almost didn’t realize what they were staring at, as his focus was on the headless zombie in the driver’s seat. He didn’t realize he’d placed his hand on the edge of a child’s seat. He screamed and recoiled as something cold, deathly cold, tried to wrap itself around his finger. His stomach lurched when he saw what it was.
Regaining his composure, he pulled out his combat knife. Holding the knife over the child, he stopped. He couldn’t do it. As much as the voice inside of his head screamed “KILL IT!” he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill this little baby.
He thrust the knife into the seatbelt holding the seat into the truck, cutting it. Then, he gently picked up the child’s seat and lowered it gently to the ground. Tears fell onto the dead child as the soldier turned and climbed back into the truck. The high-pitched moan of that child would haunt Sgt Procell’s dreams for the rest of his days.
He unbuckled the headless adult and dumped its body unceremoniously out of the truck. He then slid into the still wet seat, and started the engine. The gas gauge read ¼ of a tank. He looked to SSgt Brown. The big NCO was standing over the car seat. Without warning, SSgt Brown stabbed the child with his bayonet.
“Can’t leave it to suffer like that,” he announced as the others looked on in horror. He turned and assessed the zombie situation. He and Sgt Procell had been able to open up the distance between the growing horde and their little group. The closest zombies were a good 100 meters away.
“The back, open the back,” he ordered. Shane and Theresa ran to the rear door of the truck. Just before they opened it, Theresa slammed on the door three times. The duo jumped back almost in unison as several voices began moaning. The moaning was coming from inside the back of the truck. There were more zombies inside.
“No good,” Shane yelled. “Dead inside!”
SSgt Brown reassessed the situation from the cab of the truck. The horde was approaching the 50 meter mark. The road was clear of vehicles. He knew the river was pretty close.
“Hurry,” he yelled. “Get on top of the truck!” He scrambled to the top of the cab, helping Shane and Theresa as they climbed up. Ms. Hebert slammed the door as the first zombies began to reach the truck. SSgt Brown slapped the top of the cab. Sgt Procell eased the truck forward. He did not want another injury. He watched as the horde of zombies grew smaller and smaller in the mirror.
The area around the road was a wide open field. SSgt Brown thought he remembered this was sweet potato farm country. He knew that would mean lots of wide open space, no fences, and very few buildings. He knew there was a town a few miles west of them, but he didn’t think there would be much in the line of civilization around here.
As if on cue, a farm house appeared on their left. It was surrounded by trees and close to the road. He immediately discounted that. He didn’t want to get trapped in tight quarters. No, they’d keep going for a little longer.
He started thinking about contingency plans. Continuing on all night wasn’t an option. They were getting too damned tired. The rumbling in his stomach reminded him that they had not eaten since this morning. The only plan he could think of was to park the truck in as wide open a space as they could find and sleep on it. He shuddered at the thought of sleeping on top of a truck filled with zombies in the middle of nowhere.
The trees that lined the road began to thin and then disappeared. He could see a farm house about a half mile away. That’s it. It’s either that or it’s the truck. He slapped the roof.
“The farm house,” he yelled into the open window. “Let’s hunker down there for the night.” Sgt Procell turned at the next intersection.
The farmhouse sat about 150 meters off of the road. There was no fencing. This didn’t surprise SSgt Brown. This was crop growing country; not animal growing country. As they drove down the small country lane, he noticed that the fields were surrounded by a shallow ditch.
He assumed this had something to do with irrigation and drainage, but wasn’t sure. What he did recognize, was that the ditch was probably deep enough to slow down the undead. It was also deep enough for the truck to get stuck. He’d have to remind Sgt Procell not to go traipsing across country around here, lest they end up walking again.
Sgt Procell pulled the truck into the long driveway. The house was a typical two story farm house with a porch running the length of the front of the house. The only difference was that there was a deck running above the porch off of the second story. Sgt Procell thought that would make a great escape route. He pulled the truck as close to the deck as he could get. It was close enough for SSgt Brown, Theresa and Shane to hop easily from the truck onto the deck.
“C’mon you guys,” he told the two civilians with him. “We’ll meet you down stairs in a minute,” he called over to Sgt Procell.
There were two glass doors that opened to the deck. SSgt Brown led the three to the one on the left. He knocked on the door and waited for several seconds. When nothing tried to come through the window at them, he carefully opened the door. As he stepped in, the smell of rot and decay assaulted his nose. There was definitely something dead in here. He just didn’t know if it was dead, or undead.
The room was a bedroom with a queen sized bed, and assorted antique-looking furniture and mirror. There was a closet on one wall and the door was partially ajar. The door to the rest of the house was closed.
He crept quietly to the closet door, followed by Theresa and Shane. With his right hand still holding his M-16 to his shoulder, he pulled the closet door open with his left hand. The smell was stronger in the closet. Upon further inspection, he found why. There was a carcass of a large dog in the closet. The animal was skin and bones, and was starting to decompose. Shane poked his head in and immediately regretted that decision. He ran outside and began retching over the railing.
SSgt Brown and Theresa continued to the door. He listened quietly. Nothing. He pointed to Theresa, then to the right. He then pointed to himself and to the left. The message was clear. You go right and then I go left. Again, he opened the door with his left hand while keeping the rifle to his shoulder.
Shane was still on the deck. As the last of the dry heaves subsided, he heard a noise coming from the door that remained closed. As he approached, the glass shattered and two large zombies stumbled onto the deck. Shane was altogether unprepared for the onslaught
of the two zombies.
He had dropped his rifle when he started vomiting and hadn’t retrieved it when the zombies came through the door. All he could do was reach for the giant knife on his belt. It cleared his scabbard as the first zombie reached him.
The zombie had been an older man, maybe in his 60’s when he’d turned. He was wearing a white shirt that was stained with blood and a gold and black baseball hat with a fleur-de-lis on it. Its white beard was also stained in blood.
The zombie grabbed Shane’s hand before he could get the knife above his waist. Shane screamed as the zombie pushed him backwards, cold dead hands grasping his wrist like a vise. He tried to push back but the old farmer had leverage on him. They both tumbled to the deck.
The knife dug into Shane’s abdomen just below his rib cage and left of center. He let out a scream of both pain and panic. He tried hard to roll the zombie off of him but the old man was stronger than he should have been. All he could do was shove his left palm under the zombie’s chin in an attempt to keep its gaping maw away from his face.
Suddenly the zombie’s weight was lifted off of the young fireman. A shot rang out, then another. Shane couldn’t tell who had pulled the zombie off of him, or who had fired. An electric shock ran through his stomach and chest when he tried to breath. He tried again. Ouch! Nope, he couldn’t breathe. It hurt too badly.
Finally he was able to draw in a shallow breath. That didn’t hurt too much. He could do that, he thought. All he had to do was stop the pain and the buzzing in his ears. Wow, he thought, that’s loud. What was buzzing in his ears? He didn’t remember seeing any bugs.
Wait, is it the time of the year for the crickets? Crickets, that has to be it. He wished they’d be quiet. He could hear them but couldn’t see them. All he could see was a shape above him. Was it a person? Yes, the person was saying something, but what? Maybe it was a shadow of a person? Maybe it was that pretty Ms. Hebert. Oh, she had a nice… Wait, what was it? It was nice whatever it was. Nice…Nice… He gasped once. There was no pain
