by Woods, Shane
I then called Dave up and whispered to him to boot the door open so we could see what was going on.
Dave let out a grunt as he brought his boot forward and impacted the door with it, adding his footprint to a score of scratches in the woodwork. It held, firm, but then gave way on the second try. The door swung violently inward and impacted the wall next to it as the catch and several large splinters of wood entered the room.
In the low light filtering in through bright pink curtains I could see the outline of a crib against one wall. A couple of dressers, and swinging my light around revealed a changing table, and a rocking chair.
In the far corner was the room’s previous occupant. A long-dead young woman rested on the floor, her back against the wall. She wore a floral dress that was torn open at the chest that revealed an empty chest cavity. The pattern of the dress stained rust-brown with old blood. The area surrounding her covered in much the same shade with scraps of blue printed fabric littered throughout.
On the floor next to her body lay the cause of all the pellet damage in the hallway. A pump shotgun, and an empty 5 round pack of shells. Just five rounds?
Before I could any longer ponder the preposterous notion that someone would own a gun and such little ammo for it, I heard another soft thump followed by a rustle near the rocking chair. In the light streaming from my shotgun, a form appeared from the far side of the rocking chair. On sight the figure sent my soul over a hurdle. This. Now this, was too much.
The baby, not really old enough to even consider a toddler, crawled into view. A little girl, little pink T-shirt torn and ratty. She used her hand to bring herself to a standing position and turned to face us. The grey mottled skin contrasted by the red rims around her eyes, and the twin trails of blood streaming from her tear ducts. Her knees worn wide open from crawling, the skin peeled back like old leather.
She let out a final baby-like cry which turned into a thin, high, tinny screech as she took three steps toward us and fell flat on her face.
Before the smallest infected I’d ever seen recovered and we had to do something about it, I reached in and slammed the door shut.
“Nope,” I said. “No fucking way. This is too much now.”
“What the fuck was that?” James nearly spat.
“Baby,” Dave breathed. Rich just traded glances back and forth with everybody.
What the hell are you supposed to do in this situation?
“Sure you don’t want to stomp on it?” Korin asked from behind us, her tone and glare driving solid spikes into my being.
“Go get a jerry can from the trailer,” I ordered. “Everyone else follow her out. We don’t need anything from this house.”
“No, yeah, I’m good on that,” James agreed.
We left the house without even a word among us until we got outside. I took up the tail, and Korin was first out so she met me halfway back with the jerry can. I took it from her without a word and we turned back to the house together.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“Not going to ask anybody to handle that one face to face,” I explained, “but we can’t let it stay.”
Her eyes went wide as I opened the nozzle and casually stepped into the house and began liberally pouring gasoline around the stairwell, leaving a trail as I walked it out through the front door.
“I’m sorry about what I said,” she informed me.
“Don’t worry about it,” I stated.
I pulled a matchbook from my pocket and struck one on the cover, lit the rest, and threw it on the ignition trail. The air grew instantly warm as the fire sprang into being, leaving an angry orange trail. A larger secondary woosh sounded through the neighborhood as the puddled home interior caught and the air ignited with flames. In no time at all it was fully invested in consuming the house, so I turned my back, Korin in tow, and we wordlessly walked back to the truck. All eyes were on the flames behind us as they tried to exit the front door but were dragged back inside by their need to consume.
Dave nodded as I approached, and we mounted up on the truck, Rich climbing back behind the wheel, and moved a couple of blocks over in case the flames drew the attention of any local infected. We still hadn’t seen any sign of them, and that worried me.
Rich pulled the truck to the end of the block then turned to the right, heading westward and deeper into the residential area.
The next handful of blocks passed uneventfully, and nobody dared say anything at all about the toddling monster. I was sure if anyone had half a similar mind to mine, we were all actively trying to forget what we’d witnessed.
We had all seen our own fair share and then some in these end days, but I think a shit-diapered little girl looking to become a literal ankle-biter was just simply more than we’d needed.
Despite the multitude of possible reasons for it, we continued onward in silence. Every eye trained on the cruel outside world as we went.
We started seeing a couple of infected here and there. A few staggering around on one street, a few more than the first on the next. They grew in number for a few more streets, always further down the road than we were.
We crept up to another junction when something caught my eye.
“Hey Rich,” I called over, tapping him, “hold up here.”
“You see something?” he asked, bringing the truck to a halt, but never taking it out of gear. Always ready.
“Yeah, I think I do,” I relied, motioning for James to hand me his binoculars.
“What is it?” James asked.
“A whole world of shit that we’re about to dive into,” I replied grimly. I could feel my chest tighten and all the hairs on my body stand on end. Just the sight in James’s binoculars was enough to set the adrenaline flowing through my system.
There were dozens of them. Infected. Fast and slow. Men, women, even some small figures darting around between the others. Great. Somebody there was having a Grateful Dead concert and forgot to invite any security at all.
“Jesus,” James muttered as he looked at the scene and handed the optics to Rich.
“They’re all around one house, we can leave it,” Rich opined.
“Can’t,” I stated flatly. “Jennifer’s going to kill me for this one, but they’re around that house for a reason. Could just be a dog, or a whole community holed up in there, but we gotta help.”
“He’s right guys,” Dave sighed. “We got to be the good guys again.”
“You know I’m willing to help,” James echoed.
“Fuck,” Rich sighed, and the high school kids just held their silence. Both had gone visibly pale, perspiration breaking across Korin’s forehead.
“Give me the glass back,” I instructed, “and double check your gear and weapons. I’ll craft a plan while we sit.”
I had taken Jennifer’s AR-15 and a half-dozen magazines. I checked that, and also checked the Sig 226 on my drop leg holster. Good to go. Bringing the binoculars back up to my eyes, I peered past the broken outlines of Henry’s chain link armor and observed.
The small horde was a few short blocks away. Just enough distance to keep us safe if we didn’t make a huge scene here. There was easily five or six-dozen of the freaks, estimating for those I couldn’t see. They were surrounding an average two floor home, attached garage, it was even the same basic cream color as half of the other homes in the neighborhood. The obvious difference between this one and those around it was the burglar bars lining the windows, and the steel cage of the outside storm door. As hard as some of the infected were hitting the house, they weren’t getting through. The most that had been done was the shattering of the glass inside the outer door.
“Okay,” I stated, breaking the silence, “We drive up and say hi. Then we drive away.”
“How is that going to help?” asked Jimmy, the other kid with us.
“No, he’s right, that’s smart!” James chipped in, “Drive kinda slow and make a scene real loud, like Pied Piper them away from the house. B
ut, then what? We circle around and pick them up?”
“Nah man, we still got to clean this area of infected if possible,” I said, eyeing Dave as he ran his hand down his face
“We can’t ram them all,” Rich noted. “The truck’s brush guard will only take so much.”
“We trap ourselves,” I explained. “We get enough room to dismount on the circle back. We go in through the front and leave it open. That house is two floors plus attic. We back up to the second floor and use the steps to funnel them. Then stack fuckin’ bodies.”
“You’re insane!” Rich nearly croaked. “What the fuck makes cornering ourselves sound like a good plan? I’m crazy. You’re fucking insane, Scott.”
“This goes against every basic instinct I have for survival,” James added, “but I see your side of it loud and clear. Boss man, if we follow this plan, I trust you.”
“He’s right,” Dave barely muttered in agreeance, “that’s as solid a plan as any other we have here. Fuck. Let’s go.”
I visually checked each person for readiness. When all gave the good-to-go, I nodded to Rich, who pressed the accelerator and the truck lurched, then began to rumble down the street.
Two blocks away and moving at the pace of a good healthy run, Rich started laying on the horn loud and long and flashing the bright headlamps.
Just one block away, and with the attention of our swarm of greeters garnered, Dave opened the sliding rear window and hung his top half out, sitting perched on the sill. A little noise and movement from our lanky, tattooed friend, that should do us fine here.
The infected reached our truck even before we reached the house.
The first few hit head-long, the heavy brush guard doing its new job well, catching them and tossing them bodily to the side, or dragging them under the heavy vehicle to thud along the underside below our feet.
Other freaks started coming out from between homes, previously unseen and adding to the count with every hiding spot we passed. There was a lot of them, running and shambling beings coming out of ambush points all over the street. They really were getting clearly smarter, and as uneasy as I felt about our plan, I realized it was the only chance whomever we were rescuing would have at survival.
Then the screaming started. At first, I thought it was another monstrosity shrieking the dinner bell as it joined the pursuit. But it was too low-pitched for that. Not the characteristic screech we’d come to know and loathe. Then the scream came again.
“Dave! DAVE!” I shouted, twisting to see him being grabbed on the arm by a young male that had latched onto the truck’s ladder rack. Then his screaming stopped.
I tried to pull his feet and get him back in the truck but was met with much resistance, then a kick.
“I’m alright!” Dave yelled inward to the truck. “Gah! Back, bitch! Boop!”
As the last, most unusual word ‘boop’ left his lips, he gave his hatchet a back-handed swing and buried it into the head of the monster that had him, causing it to fall over the side back to the street and taking his bladed weapon with it. He started yelling again as we reached the house, at the top of his lungs.
“WE’RE CIRCLING BACK!!!” he called to the house. “HAVE THE FRONT DOOR OPEN!”
“Rich, give it more now, get ahead and lead these assholes,” I directed, then turned to Dave as he slid back inside the truck. “You think they heard you?”
“I sure hope they did,” James breathed. “The madman risked his life for it!”
“They did,” Dave confirmed. “I saw a chick on the second floor, not infected, she was nodding and waving and shit.”
“Okay cool. Good,” I offered, then, “Okay Rich, part two. Everybody get ready, we’ll have to haul ass. Be ready!”
Everyone confirmed as Rich cleared the monstrosities on the street and started to slow to pace them.
“We could just outrun them and come back alone,” Rich suggested.
“Scott’s right,” James disagreed. “We don’t get rid of them now, they’ll get someone else in the future, maybe be a problem for us for all we know.”
The idea was so outlandish that I was happy to have people on my side, it reassured me that I hadn’t completely lost it.
Rich’s acquiescence was apparent as he sped up, then used the next intersection as a cul-de-sac and swung wide to bring the pickup truck and trailer around. The impacts started almost immediately again, and despite his best efforts to swerve, the front of the truck was taking damage and the wipers were run at full blast as thick blackish blood from the infected covered the windshield of the truck.
Everyone was shouting directions while Rich reimbursed them with assurances. The scene was pure chaos. The yelling, the laboring truck engine, the whole vehicle rocking with each thud and bang as it took another creep to the pavement.
Finally, we cleared the tail of the herd that was on our back, the runners, at least. Rich hit the throttle and rocketed forward for the final one block back.
Then, truck, followed by trailer, bounced the curb and slid to a jack-knifed stop in the dead center of what used to be an immaculate front yard, now waist-high with summer grass and overgrown flower beds. We came to a rest near the now-opened house door, and both of our front doors opened as I shouted to everyone.
“DISMOUNT!” I shouted, nearly falling out of my side of the truck before turning and seeing the back doors of the crew cab were both dented out of shape and refusing to open. I didn’t even waste time to yell for help, and instead grabbed the handle and yanked with all I had, snapping the plastic handle right off but failing to get anywhere.
“FUCK!” I bellowed. A glance over my shoulder showed the freaks approaching way too fast for comfort as Dave nearly flew out of the front of the truck opposite me.
He turned and reached for Jimmy and yanked him over the seat and out of the truck as I extended my hand to James. James grasped it tight as he tried to clamber over the front seat. A solid yank from me put him nearly on his feet as a loud crack sounded right by me. I felt the slickness of the infected blood on my back as one near me fell to rifle fire. Dave loosed another burst from his AK and dropped a couple more.
“Let’s go!” he shouted, firing another burst. “THEY’RE HERE!!!”
Dave fired one last burst and ducked back as he was almost blindsided by one. The freak nailed the door jamb and bounced as Dave filled its chest and neck with rounds, dropping it. Then he disappeared into the house as I ran, James hot on my trail.
I had just crossed the threshold into the house in time to see Dave disappear around a far corner. At that moment, a hand locked into the back of my T-shirt and pulled me, nearly taking me out of the doorway backwards. I turned and realized in horror it was James.
He was pulling me as his face twisted into a mix of sheer terror and pain. Looking just past his body as his arms stretched to their length, I could make out the stark white and grey face, just as it sunk its teeth through the windbreaker he wore, drawing an instant gush of hot blood like the juice of a fresh tomato.
I used my free hand to draw the Sig and place three 9mm rounds into the bitch’s face as I drew James inside, the heavy door swinging closed on its spring and latching.
I began to feel shaking in the hand holding James’s shirt across his chest. As I turned to look, I realized it wasn’t my hand, but James himself shaking. His head was already starting to snap back and forth. The vessels in his eyes began to darken and I pulled him near me then slammed his back flat against the wall. It was too late for him.
“Sorry, buddy.” I spoke solemnly as I brought my pistol forward, drawing down square into the center of his forehead.
Just as my hand started to tense on the trigger, he broke his convulsions long enough to lunge forward. The move took me by surprise and caused him to hit the gun just as I squeezed, causing it to go out of battery. Pulling the trigger yielded no result.
“Fuck!” I growled as I redoubled my efforts. I barred my whole forearm against his upper chest and levera
ged against the wall behind me in the narrow space, forcing him back and into the adjacent wall again. This time I used enough force that the drywall behind him cracked and caved. Drawing the pistol up again, the trigger broke cleanly, expelling hot gas and full metal jacket into the cranium of what was a good friend to us all just a moment before. The shot in that instant became louder than a supernova in the vacuum between us.
The round perforated a neat little hole just in line with his eyebrows, dead center. The exiting round found the drywall ahead of the wash of blood and grey matter that covered the neatly hung portraits behind him. The weight on my arm went limp, and I released my pressure, allowing him to fall to the floor with a thud. The last noise our buddy would ever create.
As the first sting of tears fought its way to my eyes, the world started to come back into focus. The pounding and shrieking coming from outside. The yelling coming from the interior of the house. Even the way James’s freshly smoked thoughts tainted the otherwise sterile scent of the home.
“I’m coming!” I choked out. “James is gone!”
A series of replies I couldn’t discern came back to me. It was so loud in that house. Fuck was it loud. And the ringing in my ears from the single gunshot did nothing to ease the auditory tension. I whirled as I felt something brush my back. An infected arm reached its entire length into the home from the gap between the storm bars in the door.
Thinking quickly, I reached for James’s backpack, removing it from his body and reaching in to retrieve the container of ammonia. Twisting the cap off and ripping out the foil seal, I forced it into the grasp of the freak’s hand. It withdrew with the bottle, stopping and turning it this way and that until it forced it through the bars, flooding the chemical out of the bottle and onto the stoop.
I pulled the bleach out of my own pack and squished the bottle through the bars, hoping for the reaction that was sure to come.
In short order, the freaks pushing closest to the door started to rasp, some of them outright choking as they issued short rasping barks. Using this opportunity, I kicked the latch to the door, forcing it open and knocking a few demons backwards.
