by Derek Slaton
“Good enough for me,” Jackson agreed and hit the gas, turning to the left and directly into a chain link fence. The SUV tore through it like butter but the bumpy field was a lot slower than the vehicle’s capabilities on pavement. “Not the swiftest of getaways.” He glanced in the rearview mirror where the zombies were keeping pace with them.
“Just keep going straight,” Sparks said, pulling up a map on her phone she’d retrieved from the floor. “In a couple of miles we should hit the road. When you do, hang a left.” Jackson made a noise of affirmation, and Sparks turned to check on Ben.
“You okay?” she asked quietly.
“No, I’m not,” he seethed. “Once we’re out of danger, I’m going to find out what the fuck happened to her.” He leaned forward. “You hear me?!”
Jeff clenched his fists in the front seat, biting down on the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tuesday 8:37 P.M.
“Clear,” Jackson called from the back of the boat shop.
“Clear,” Sparks called back, and the bell jingled as Jeff secured the door, standing watch. “Ben, get behind the counter and see if you can find some keys to the boats outside,” she instructed. “Having a motor boat is going to get us a lot further than a canoe.”
He nodded and headed to the counter, ducking down to check all of the shelves and drawers.
“We have survivors,” Jeff called, and both the redhead and Jackson ran to the window, watching a young couple sprint to the pier. Two zombies emerged from behind a stack of canoes and made a beeline for them, but they continued trying to get to the boats.
The zombies tackled them and chowed down, the sounds of snapping and gurgling echoing off of the water.
“Motherfucker,” Jackson muttered as the couple reanimated, effectively doubling the amount of enemies outside.
“Jackson, what’s your ammo looking like?” Sparks asked as she checked her clip.
There was a series of clicks as he checked his own. “Mostly full mag, one in reserve, you?”
“On my last mag,” she replied.
“Think we can get four headshots on moving targets in the dark?” Jackson asked wryly.
“Maybe with a scoped AR-15,” Sparks scoffed. “Not liking the odds with a handgun.”
“Well, whatever we’re going to do, we’d better do it before the horde gets here,” Jeff pointed out. “Four against four is a lot better than four against four hundred.”
“Ben, you got keys?” Sparks asked.
“Yeah, not much else, though.” He stood up from behind the counter, a handful of silver in his hand. “Just some knives. No guns.”
Sparks nodded. “Grab the knives.” She glanced over at a stack of wooden oars, picking up a few to inspect them. She brought one down over her knee, testing the strength.
“What, you want to beat them to death?” Jackson asked, skepticism in his voice.
“We’re going to do a little teamwork,” Sparks replied, slinging an oar over her shoulder, satisfied. “You guys are going to run ahead of us and use the oars to clothesline them. When they are on the ground, Ben and I will finish them off with the knives.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Jackson rolled his eyes.
She put a hand on her hip and shot him a level stare. “Well, we have a matter of minutes before we’re overrun, so if you have a better idea, I’m all ears.”
He contemplated for a moment before letting out a disgruntled sigh. “Give me the oar.” He held out his hand and she plonked the length of wood into it.
Ben handed her a knife and they followed their oar-wielding teammates outside.
“You ready?” Jackson held the impromptu weapon out in front of him.
Jeff grinned. “Whenever you’re ready, sunshine.
Jackson let out a yell in response, grabbing the attention of the four zombies meandering around the pier. The living men sprinted towards them, holding their oars up, in perfect position as the zombies came at them.
Jeff’s oar hit with tremendous force, sending both of his zombies flipping back onto the sandy ground. Jackson wasn’t so lucky, his oar snapping in two with the first opponent. He slammed directly into the last one, tumbling them both to the ground.
Ben and Sparks darted in behind Jeff and stabbed his two in the face before they could scramble back up. Jackson’s first managed to get halfway up before the skinhead swung and took its feet out, giving Sparks an opening to stab it in the temple.
Jackson cried out, on the bottom of a wrestling match with his opponent. He held the zombie’s throat, twisting his head just out of reach of snapping teeth, and then got a grip on his broken oar. He shoved it directly through his attacker’s head and kicked the body off of him as blood spewed everywhere.
“Yeah, thanks for the help there, asshole!” he snapped as he got to his feet, glaring at Jeff.
The skinhead shrugged.“Hey, I carried my weight.”
Before a tussle broke out, the sound of shuffling feet and groaning wafted in from the distance, and the quartet glanced around at each other.
“Finish this later guys, we gotta go,” Sparks barked, and ran towards the motorboat at the end of the pier. Ben stayed hot on her heels, and Jackson simply cocked his gun while staring Jeff down.
“You’d better watch yourself, boy,” he said darkly and walked off towards the others.
Jeff stood motionless for a moment, deliberating.
Ben turned back when he realized he didn’t hear the others coming, and his jaw dropped at the sight of Jeff smacking Jackson in the back of the head with his oar.
The strike leader hit the wood with a thud, fumbling his gun. It slid across the pier to the student’s feet, and he took in a sharp breath. Sparks whipped around at the sound, drawing her own gun.
Jeff stepped over Jackson’s groaning frame and picked up the gun, handing it to Ben.
“Jeff, what the hell are you doing?!” Sparks cried.
“The right thing,” he replied, and put his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “That motherfucker killed Ashley. Just pushed her into a couple of them so he could escape.”
Jackson staggered to his feet and a ragged breath escaped Ben’s throat. He raised the gun with a shaking hand, blinking back tears.
“I did what needed to be done so we could all survive,” Jackson said, raising his hands as the horde noises grew in volume.
“Kill this asshole and let’s go,” Jeff prompted, and Ben aimed the gun. He clenched his jaw and then lowered it as the horde emerged from the treeline, closing in on them.
“I’m not going to kill him,” Ben said, and the strike leader breathed a sigh of relief. But after the crack of a gunshot he clutched his exploded kneecap and hit the pier again. “But they will,” Ben added in satisfaction.
“Goddamn that’s cold blooded,” Jeff said with a grin. “I like it.”
“Come on, we gotta move!” Sparks screamed, untying the boat. Jeff and Ben raced over and hopped in as she fired up the engine, propelling them out onto the water. The guys watched with pride as the zombies overtook Jackson, his screams quickly muffled by the thick pile of rotting flesh on top of him.
“I’m so sorry man,” Jeff said, and patted Ben’s shoulder. “I wasn’t close enough to her when it happened.”
“It’s okay, Jeff,” the young man replied. “I know you would have saved her if you could.” They turned to Sparks, who hit the throttle to speed the boat off into the darkness.
They were out of immediate danger.
For now.
END
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