by K. M. Raya
Three more zoms come at us, so I whip out my crossbow and pegg them right in the head. They splatter to the ground in a satisfying heap, but more are already taking their place. They come from every direction, probably drawn back here by all the noise and light. The door I just came from bursts open again and at least twenty of the dead fuckers stumble through. Their wet, gurgly moans can be heard easily over the roar of the fire. By now, Costco is a lost cause. Mentally, I cringe at the loss of our ‘secure’ hideout, wishing we’d been able to squeeze in another week before being forced back out on the road again.
Looking over at Nina, I wince as I notice the odd angle her ankle is bent. She’s got to be in a ton of pain. Still, her knife is at the ready, and every time a zombie comes too close, she jams it through its mushy skull like butter, just like always. My girls and I have been out here for a year now, sifting through the ruins of what used to be the United States of America. I don’t know what to call it anymore, but it's not the home I used to fight for. It’s nothing more than a dead wasteland of toxic fog and walking corpses.
I’m still bitter at the way it all went down. I was on my way to a comfortable little life before those bombs dropped from who the heck knows where. When my four years as a Marine were up, I’d moved back out to Nevada where my dad owns a sizable amount of land. I thought I’d finally left the memories of war behind, but I was wrong. Missy and Nina came too. I met them both in Iraq, when we were forced to spend day after day in that shithole, battle worn desert doing absolutely nothing. We bonded through mutual hardship and watched each other's backs. The guys in our squad eventually went their separate ways too once our time was up, but I made sure there would always be a home for them on my dad’s land. Nina and Missy had rough upbringings and not much to go back to. So we spent six months before the end of the world having the time of our lives in Nevada.
Missy’s red hair flaps behind her as she rears back and stomps a zombie head under her boot. Brains and sinew squish into the gravel with a sickening crunch and splat that at one time in my life might have made me yak. I’m used to it now, sadly. I’m used to the carnage and the horrors. You have to be used to it if you expect to make it a single day out here in the new America.
I can hear Anubis snarling as he takes down a few more zoms. My six year old Doberman loves what he does and he’s damn good at it, too. He’s a tall boy, and stronger than a freakin bear. Raised on my daddy’s farm, Anubis used to run the plains of the Nevada desert, learning how to track and hunt. Usually we reserved the hunting for the hound dogs daddy raises, but Anubis always wanted in on the action too. Luckily, he’s grown a taste for zombie brains, so it helps when we find ourselves in tight spaces like this one. Anubis is my best friend, aside from my girls. I thank God every single day that I decided to take him with me on that spur of the moment road trip last year. Had I left him back in Nevada, I really can’t say where we’d be right now. Surely not alive.
My long, white blonde hair is held back in a ponytail, but the end whips my eyes until they sting and water. I didn’t have time to grab my goggles out of my bag, so I have to squint to see further than a few feet. I’d only just managed to secure my mask on before the zombies took out half the front entrance and let the fog in. The old ass generator must have had an electrical short in the middle of the night because as soon as my eyes snapped open, an orange wall of flame practically singed off my nose hairs. We barely managed to grab all our shit and haul ass down the back hallway towards the emergency exit when the flames and the zombies followed.
My fingers are going numb the more skulls I crush with my hunting knife. Human skulls are much harder and much denser than TV and movies would lead you to believe. Sometimes I can feel the grind of bone or the suction of brain tissue on my knife, making me want to blow chunks every time.
I sling my crossbow back over my shoulder when it becomes too close of combat for my liking. Gritting my teeth, I cut them down, but every few seconds my eyes flit back to that fucking suv. Nobody in there even attempts to get out and help us. Pricks. The sky is beginning to darken through the fog, but no amount of rain will ever be enough to wash away the poison in the air. We need to find shelter before the storm comes, otherwise we’ll freeze out here.
“Anubis, let's go!” I call out and my good boy’s head pops up—blood dribbling from his mouth as it falls open. He always manages to look like he’s smiling as his tongue lolls out to the side. Shaking my head, I fight a smile. I whistle through my teeth and nod my head for him to come.
“We need to get out of here, Hell,” Nina breathes hard next to me. Her mask muffles her voice a little, but I can tell she’s getting tired. “There were more in there.” She’s hobbling on her right leg, trying her best not to stand on her injured foot.
“How many?” She’s the only one who’d seen them pour in from the front roll doors as Missy and I were already in the back of the store. I’d been fast asleep, laying in the plastic tunnel of one of those playsets on the higher platforms. The only reason I even woke up was the shrill sound of the fire alarms and glow of the flames before the generators were blown completely.
“At least sixty, maybe more. I don’t know, the smoke made it hard to tell.” She leans against Missy’s shoulder for balance, gritting her teeth in pain.
“Fuck—” Missy and I groan in unison. We glance towards the back door where smoke still pours out. The zombies inside are probably staggering around in the smoke, not knowing which way to go. At least for the time being, the smell will mask the yummy human flesh they were chasing after. Missy looks at me, her green eyes flashing behind her clear goggles. “How good do you think our chances are if we hijack that suv over there?”
Snorting, I flit my eyes over and back again in a blink, restraining the need to flip them off again. They’re still sitting there, doing absolutely nothing. All of us turn to look. As if summoned, the suv’s engine rumbles to life. My hackles rise. The three of us watch as it starts to roll towards us, gravel flying up in a cloud of dust behind it. I can’t see anything past the overly tinted windows, so there’s no way for me to tell how many or what kind of people are inside. Could be anyone. Could be trappers, hunting for more stock, or it could be some homegrown good ole boys out for a bit of mischief. I don’t see any cages or barbed wire attached to the car, so I don’t think they’re trappers. That and the fact that I’m still alive right now tells me we’re in the clear. There’s no way Mac would leave me alive this long. They’re also much too quiet to be hillbillies. The girls and I draw our weapons at the same time.
“I don’t like this, Hell,” Nina grumbles. Her eyes never leave the approaching car. She’s right to be worried. We’ve run into some real assholes on the road. But that’s the thing about national disasters, they bring the absolute worst out of people.
Chapter ☣ 3
Dante
“Man, we’re about to get our asses kicked by a bunch of girls, aren't we?” I grumble. Wyatt rolls us closer to the three badass chicks staring us down like they're about to charge with an army at their heels. The one in the middle—the tomb raider with waist length white blonde ponytail looks like a Valkyrie, ready to rip my fucking head off. I can’t see her eyes yet, but I can feel the venom in them like a wall of ‘get the hell away’ smacking into my forehead.
“Just play it cool,” Wyatt pleads. “They don’t even have guns.”
“That we can see…” mutters Alex. Turning in my seat, I let him see my ire before I make a show of flipping my tinted goggles back over my eyes. He’s always the fucking pessimist. Nobody even invited him on this mission, so I don’t know why he even bothered.
“There are only so many places one can hide a machine gun, Lex,” Beretta remarks. I smirk cheekily under my mask, but she can see my cheeks lift. Beretta shakes her head and rolls her brown eyes. “Get your mind out of the gutter, you fucking perv.”
Turning back to the front, I grip my weapon tighter and roll up my window as we come
to a stop in front of the three women and Wyatt cuts the engine. They stand in a line with that Doberman in front of them—its face is a drooling mess of gore, but its eyes are sharp and alert, ready to take on anyone who dares threaten its humans. Wyatt cuts me a look. “Do we—”
“Let's get this shit over with,” barks Alex, throwing his door open and stepping out into the fog. He doesn’t look back to make sure we’re following him, he just slings his gun over his shoulder and walks around the car.
Wyatt curses under his breath as he grabs his side arm. “Dude’s gonna get us killed one of these days.”
The rest of us follow Alex outside. The women haven't moved, and my eyes immediately hone in on the sexy blonde one with that ridiculous pink crossbow. The contradiction of her black tactical pants, utility vest and fingerless gloves against the bright neon pink makes me fight a grin. Tearing my eyes away from her lush curves under all that Kevlar, I take stock of our other two women. The one with the injured foot has long, black hair braided away from her face. Her skin is dark and smooth and her brown eyes are sharp. The girl holding her up has bright red hair in tight ringlets and a pale face full of freckles. Her green eyes are shrewd, and every few seconds, I can tell she’s fighting her need to check on the girl she holds up.
From the distance we were parked, the women looked pretty normal. No too tall, not fat, old or sick looking. But up close is another story. These girls have seen some shit, I can tell right away. They’re lean and muscled, even under all that clothing. The way they hold themselves so steadily tells me a lot too. They’re trained. I don’t know what they’re trained in, but they're definitely not your average valley girls. Running my eyes over the blonde, I think I can even see a hint of a tattoo peeking out from her wrist sleeve.
Our groups face each other behind the still burning building. By now the Costco is beginning to collapse. Black smoke funnels up into the still darkening sky, and we all know it's only a matter of time until whatever zombies managed to make it through the fire start to come through that back door. Wyatt steps forward. He’s always been a sort of unofficial leader of our little troupe. With his shoulder length sandy hair that matches his beard, he stands taller than six foot three with big ole muscles looking like a fucking mountain man, but his smile is always easy and open.
“Evening, ladies,” he drawls in his radio-smooth, deep voice. Mentally I cringe. Something tells me his charm isn’t going to work on these chicks.
The blonde cocks her head to the side in a predatory way, her light golden eyes sliding over Wyatt's body assessingly. I can’t see the bottom half of her face under her respirator, but there’s nothing that can hide the flare of heat in her bright eyes. Poor girlie doesn’t stand a chance against my best friend and his pretty face.
“You and I clearly have different definitions of what constitutes a good evening,” she says evenly. Her voice is smokey and deeper than I expected—sexy, even. I also expected her to yell, rage or scream at us, but her tone is even and almost bored. Her and Wyatt keep eye contact while the rest of us just stand and wait.
I clear my throat unnecessarily, suddenly craving this chick’s attention for some reason. “Looks like your friend needs some help.” Her eyes snap to mine and I feel the weight of them like a physical blow. I start to sweat despite the cold evening. What the hell is wrong with me? “I’m a medic, if you want me to take a look...”
She raises a pale brow. “So you're only a medic if I want you to help her, or are you a medic all the time?”
Beretta snorts, but cuts it off with a cough as I cut my eyes over and glare. She wipes the smile off her face and shrugs. Looking back to the smartass, I raise my hands in defense. “Alright, you got me there, but seriously…” My eyes stray to the girl with the dark hair before looking back at blondie. “I am a medic and she looks like she’s in a lot of pain.” I glance down at her friend’s swollen ankle and try not to cringe. The top of her boot looks like it's squeezing her bones and I know she’s going to be bedridden for at least a week. And that’s if nothing’s broken.
The redhead speaks up next, but she isn’t talking to me. She’s looking at the blonde girl. “Hell, we can’t trust these guys. They were ready to let us become zombie chow.”
“Your name is Hell?” asks Alex, his deep voice filled with bitter amusement. We all turn to him in surprise. His icy blue eyes are narrowed on the blonde… Hell, apparently. I don’t know why I find that name so fitting.
“Got a problem with that?” Hell snaps, as if daring Alex to say something about it.
Apparently, my surly friend doesn’t have a knack for picking up on social ques, because he just grumbles, “Yeah it’s fucking weird.”
“What are you, the name police?”
“Guys, c’mon, this is stupid,” chimes in the girl with the dark braid and the wound. She looks at Hell with pleading eyes and clenched teeth. “I don’t think I can walk on it, girl. Maybe we should let him look.”
Hell bends down low, peering at her friend’s ankle with surprising tenderness in her eyes. Lifting her head, she whistles sharply, prompting the Doberman to prance over. Hell nods to the dog and he proceeds to sniff the other chick's ankle. He rumbles low, looking back up to his owner and whines, shifting from foot to foot. I have no fucking clue what the crap I just witnessed, but not a single one of us are about to call her on it.
She stands back up and bypasses my gaze before looking at Wyatt. Something in my stomach curdles for a second and it better not be jealousy. I swear to God I don’t have time to fight my friend for a chick's attention. She takes a deep breath and rolls her shoulders. “Alright, I’m not stupid enough to turn away help when we need it. But if you’re thinking about robbing us, Anubis is trained to rip your spine out of your butt.” She glances at her dog and nods. “That’s a promise.”
“No one's here to rob you, I swear,” Wyatt tries to reassure her.
She scoffs. “No offense, but I don’t know you and you just sat there in your little car while we were being attacked. Nina’s clearly hurt and y'all didn’t lift a freakin finger.”
Wyatt hangs his head and shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot. I know he feels guilty, and to be honest, so do I. “Look, that could have been handled a lot better. But we’re here now, and we’d like to help.”
“Speak for yourself,” mutters Alex once again.
I whip around and cock my head at him. “Are you serious right now? The one time you choose to open your mouth you gotta be a fuckin asshole? She’s hurt, man, damn.”
Alex frowns, but wisely chooses to keep his mouth shut. I look back to the women, but over their shoulders, the back door bursts open again and a few dozen zombies stumble through. Their bodies are scorched and blackened, and some of them are even still on fire as they fall over each other and the railing. “Time to move!”
Reaching out, I go to grab the injured girl to scoop her into my arms. She’ll never be able to move fast enough hobbling like that. I feel a sharp tug on my sleeve as a hand wraps around my bicep. Turning my face to the side, my eyes clash with Hell’s. She pulls me down lower until her mask practically touches mine. “We’re trusting you because we have no other choice,” she snaps, fingers tightening. “But if you fuck us over…”
I don’t let her finish as I jerk my arm out of her grip. She doesn’t fight me on it. “Just get in the car and let me help her.” She stares at me for a split second longer before we all take off for the SUV.
Chapter ☣ 4
Hell
We don’t have a choice but to follow these guys. The zombies are coming faster now, and their smell along with their moans carry on the wind. Light raindrops hit my exposed skin, making me grunt in exhaustion as we run for the doors of the suv.
The man with the shaved brown hair, tattoos and aviator goggles carries Nina in his massive arms. I warned him not to fuck with us, so I hope he takes the threat to heart. I know I probably seem like a huge bitch, but we’ve been screwed over too many ti
mes for me not to be cautious. Being a female in the zombie apocalypse alone is a recipe for disaster. I don’t think I can even count how many times some bozo and his hillbilly buddies thought they could lure us in and have their way with us. Hell no, bucko, we’re not those kinds of girls. Let’s just say the world is a much safer place for women after we dealt with them and their wandering dicks.
Missy sticks close to Nina and the guy holding her—sliding through the left hand door of the car. I take the passenger seat next to the big blonde viking looking man, and the surly one with the shoulder length black hair and ice blue eyes full of distrust slides in last. Before he has the chance to shut his door, though, Anubis leaps in and scrambles over the guy’s lap. Craning my head back, I meet his stare as he tries to shove my baby boy over his lap, and he just throws me a glare. That look says so many things, but the most prominent being the fact he definitely doesn’t want us here. Well, tough shit, assmunch.
“Hands and feet must remain inside the vehicle at all times,” the Thor look alike next to me announces as the engine roars to life. The back doors are thrown open as the female with the dark brown ponytail and thick arms jumps in and shuts them behind her.
She whistles and twirls her finger in the air at the god of thunder in the rearview. “Let's go!”
Just as he presses his foot on the gas, several bloody hands slap against the back window. Nasty grey faces push up against the dust covered glass. The rain is starting to fall harder now, and the zoms will soon be a soggy, stinking mess of rotted flesh. Not that they weren’t before, but rain basically turns their skin into soup.
