by Morris, SJ
I rushed the front seat with my knife raised, and he managed to block my thrust. He had to keep at least one hand on the wheel because now that I could see out the windshield, I could tell we were virtually surrounded by infected.
I knew he wouldn’t stop now. With my free hand, I reached back to Ben’s now lifeless body and somehow managed to unclip his handgun. It’s incredible the amount of adrenaline that pumps through your body and the strength it gives you when you really need it.
This was a do or die situation, and my adrenaline gland reacted just as I needed it to. All I could see in my mind’s eye were my children, safe at the cabin, away from all of this. Away from everything the outside world had unfortunately become.
The Z-Strain virus was not just infecting and reanimating the dead, it was infecting all of humanity with all of the awful traits we as a species held. This man was already a sick bastard before the virus, but the pandemic had brought his cruelty to new heights.
I had to end him.
I was able to get the handgun, while still fighting to bring the blade down, into Liam’s flesh. I brought the gun into position just above the headrest and said a quick ‘I love you,’ to my family, as I pulled the trigger.
Chapter 19
Just before the shot, Liam was steering the van in and out of shambling infected in the road at thirty-miles-per-hour. After the gun went off, everything seemed to happen in slow motion.
Liam slumped over the steering wheel, missing the front part of his face. The van sped up as all of his body weight was now being pressed down onto the accelerator. I recoiled from the gruesome sight that was now plastered all over the interior of the van and the smell of Liam, losing his bowels. Because I flinched, I reached for the wheel a split-second too late, and the van drove up a concrete median.
The passenger side wheels seemed to use the median as a ramp, and the right side of the van flew into the air. My body slammed into the roof, then the floor, over and over again as the vehicle flipped. I don’t recall how many times the van turned over before it came to an abrupt stop as it slid on its roof into the back of another car, causing me to fly towards the windshield.
Again, everything went black.
When I finally woke up, I felt like a truck, for lack of a better explanation, had hit me. That actually wasn’t too much of a stretch at this point. Even though it was more like I hit the inside of a truck, and more than a few times.
The van was on its roof, and somehow, I was now all the way in the back by the rear doors. One of which was open.
What I assumed now was the midday sun almost blinded me, making the pounding in my head that much worse. I lay there for a few minutes, trying to gather myself.
I slowly reached around my body, feeling places that hurt to see if I was truly broken anywhere. Other than a few bumps, bruises and scrapes, I concluded that I was okay, which was amazing, considering what had transpired to lead me into such a predicament. I might have had a few broken ribs, but I knew that I could still walk with broken ribs.
Then, I remembered the reason for my previous, harsh actions. I was infected, or at least, I thought I was. I felt my body once again, and I no longer had a fever. I wasn’t sweating profusely, and I was thirsty but nothing like before. Could I have been wrong? Was I not infected?
After mulling it over for a few moments, I decided that it was a distinct possibility that my high fever and all of the other symptoms were due to the stress of being kidnapped.
However, these questions would have to wait.
One of the rear doors to the van was open, and I could hear infected wandering around outside. Why they were not already inside, trying to tear me apart? I looked to the front of the van where Liam was, and it was not a pretty sight. The only pieces left of him was bone and what the infected couldn’t reach of his legs that were trapped under the upside-down crumpled, steering column.
So, the infected had smelled him and devoured him but left me alone, just a few feet away. This was good for me but left more unanswered questions on top of the ones I already had about the new reality that, thankfully, I was still living in.
I searched the van for items I could use as quietly as possible. I heard a few moans from outside, but no unwanted visitors came knocking. I felt like I should try and close the back door but I was worried if I did, the noise would attract every infected in the nearby area, and I’d be swarmed like I was in the Jeep. Except, this time, I didn’t have Chris, Tom, and the others to save me.
Just the thought of them not being with me brought tears to my eyes. Then, I started to think about what could have happened to them. Liam and Ben had made it out alive and to the van. Did that mean they killed Chris, Tom, and the others in the process? I was reasonably confident Reed didn’t make it, from the blood in the van earlier, but what about everyone else?
I started to cry harder when I felt a bump against the van door, followed by a soft moan. I froze and closed my eyes. For some reason, if I was about to be devoured, I didn’t want to see it coming.
The soft moans trailed off, away from the van, and I let out a breath of relief. I opened my eyes and realized that something else was missing. Where was Ben’s body?
I looked down at the ceiling again and noticed drag marks in dark, dried blood that led out the open door. I ventured a peek and quickly found what was left of Ben. His clothes were ripped to shreds, and his entire body mirrored what remained of the top half of Liam. There was almost nothing left of him except bone and tattered clothing. His belt was still around his waist, and the rifle sling was still hung over what was left of his shoulder. The rifle itself was underneath his minuscule remains, and noticing it, I had only one thought. I needed that rifle.
A slight movement caught the corner of my eye, and I slowly rotated a little, to be able to better see out the door, toward the road. There was an infected, standing about five feet from Ben’s remains. He was just standing there. He was in battered jeans and a t-shirt, and I almost wanted to say something to see if he was alive or infected, since I couldn’t see his face.
Then, I saw it.
His hands were covered in dried blood, and he had bits of flesh dangling from his torn fingernails. Just as I saw this, the wind picked up and brought the smell of death to my nose. I slowly pulled my head back into the van and stifled the churning desire in my stomach to empty its contents, of which I was sure there weren’t any remaining.
I decided I needed a distraction to get away from my undead guard, but I knew that it would also be in my best interest to get as many things from the van as I could gather, before leaving my current sanctuary. I continued to search the vehicle for supplies, very quietly, knowing that my friend outside was listening to everything around him.
I pulled Ben’s backpack from the bench seats where it was wedged. I found he had a camelback filled with water, a few energy bars, a fire starter, a metal spork, a bowl with a collapsible cup, flares, porn magazines, and thankfully, another knife that was more of a multi-use tool. For an asshole, he was prepared to be outdoors, which was good for me. The porn, I set aside, but everything else I kept.
I thought about opening the bench seats. I knew we put MREs, or Meals Ready to Eat, in them before we left the cabin, but I didn’t want them all crashing down on top of me, making noise. However, I decided I might need the food to survive my walk back to the cabin, especially since I had no idea how far my walk would be, so it was worth it.
Deciding this, I slowly undid the latch while I held the lid closed. Then, eventually, I let the top fall open, very slowly, stopping immediately, once I felt the contents it was holding shift slightly.
After catching my breath, I let the lid open just a little more, enough to be able to slide out one MRE at a time. I filled my newly acquired backpack and opened one for now. I wasn’t hungry at all, and with the disgusting smells around me, the thought of eating actually turned my stomach.
I knew I was going to need every bit of energy I could muster t
o get away from this area, so I quickly pulled open one of the silver pouches and ate the crackers and jelly. I didn’t have time to make the Chicken Ala King that was included, but by the looks of it, I wasn’t missing much.
I ventured up to the front of the van to see if maybe there was a map in the glove compartment, and I was in luck. I found a map of New Jersey and portions of Pennsylvania, New York, and Delaware. I also found a handgun with a silencer and two extra magazines.
For the first time since Chris got me out of that house with that freak trying to cut me up, I felt like I might just be okay. Funny how finding a gun will make you feel safe when you’re in a shitty, life-threatening situation. I put the map in the backpack and looked down at myself, trying to find a place to hide my extra clips and the gun when I realized I was still in my underwear.
Goddamn it, I never got my pants back on!
I remembered Chris grabbing them and putting my pants and my boots in the van with me before I blacked out, but where the hell were they now? I couldn’t exactly run around the woods in my underwear, dodging the infected and possibly bands of ruthless thugs, looking for someone to steal from, or worse.
I swear, if I didn’t have bad luck these last few days, I’d have none at all.
I put my gear down and started to search the van again for where my pants could be hiding. I found the blanket that Chris wrapped me in before putting me in the truck, and it looked like it had been dragged out of the van a little with Ben’s body, so most of it was outside the open door.
I got closer and saw black leather poking out of one of the corners that was, unfortunately, completely outside. I adjusted my position quietly to see if the jean-clad infected was still hanging out, and he was, but he was facing away from me. I inched closer to the leather that was sticking out of the blanket with the hope of being able to pull it slowly towards myself. I reached out my hand, and the mid-June sun warmed my wrist instantly. It felt so good, compared to the cold, gory inside of the van.
I grabbed ahold of the belt loop and started to pull, slowly. For a moment, it seemed like I was actually going to get away with it until I hit a snag and realized that one of the pant legs was trapped under not only the blanket but also the remains of Ben.
Shit was still the word of the day.
I pulled a little harder, and the pants only gave a little, but it also made the rifle that was trapped under Ben drag on the asphalt. It was the smallest sound, but as the scraping of metal on the road sounded, I looked right at the infected that had his back to me before, and we were now face to face.
I froze as he looked at me and I looked at him.
I stared into his lifeless white eyes for what seemed like an eternity, and he started sniffing the air around my face. His eyes were so decomposed that even though I was inches away from him, he couldn’t see me. He moved to hover over the area where the rifle made the scraping noise and stood back up. I didn’t dare move, blink, or breathe, but I couldn’t hold this position forever. The infected stared out into the woods, beyond the road, for a long time, standing right in front of me.
I had to move. I couldn’t hold my position any longer since my legs were cramping. I decided to move but to take it extremely slow. Maybe if I didn’t make any noise, he wouldn’t notice my movements through his cloudy eyes. I let go of the pants and started pulling my hand back to my body a fraction of a millimeter at a time. I wished I was smart enough to put the gun on my lap before I decided to try this little pants rescue mission, but alas, I wasn’t.
For a moment, I felt confident enough to believe I was home free, when just then, the infected looked right down at me. He took a big whiff of the air around him, I started to panic, but thankfully, he turned and shuffled off.
What... the... fuck? I thought as I sat down quickly, out of view, back inside the van. What the hell just happened? I was sure the infected knew I was there. I had seen plenty of infected with heavily decayed eyes still find someone before. They would even track your movements inside a closed car if they had the chance. How did this infected not see me?
Not wanting to tempt my good-fortune, I waited a few long minutes before I grabbed the gun and reattempted my efforts to try and get my pants again. This time quick was going to be my M.O. Rip the bandage off fast, right? It hurts less. I sure as hell hope that saying applied to this situation because I don’t know how much longer I could stomach staying in this blood and shit covered van. So, with the gun in one hand and the leather belt loop in the other, I took a good look around.
Mr. Jeans was still slowly wandering away, down the road, and had now made it about fifty feet from me. I didn’t think that was enough distance between us, but I was prepared to yank my pants free, grab the pack and bolt for the tree line.
I took a deep breath and pulled like I was trying to yank a tablecloth out from underneath a vase. It made a lot of noise, and Mr. Jeans turned in my direction, but he wasn’t in a big rush. It seemed like the noise only shifted his direction.
He certainly didn’t have the fervor that most of the infected had when they sensed food nearby. Something was definitely different. Something was off. Maybe the infected were changing? With this possibility in my mind, I took advantage of the gun in my hand and the fact that Mr. Jeans was not chasing after me.
I walked right up to him. There was only about five feet between us, and he didn’t even look up. He just kept his slow movement forward in my direction. I pulled the gun up to his forehead and he practically walked into the muzzle of the silencer. I pulled the trigger and with a soft thump, Mr. Jeans was now down for the count. I looked around and saw three more infected breaking the tree line in my general direction, but it was the same thing. They didn’t seem to notice me at all.
I walked up to the new group that consisted of an older woman in a bright flowered pantsuit, a small, round man in ripped pajamas, and a very naked, fake blonde woman. When I say fake, I mean boob and dye-job fake. Her breasts were the only parts relatively preserved on her, even though they were covered in dry blood and other gore. The rest of her skin was covered in bite marks and black, oozing, open wounds.
Still, none of them paid any attention to me. I walked around them with my gun pointed at whichever one was closest, but they didn’t reach for me or even moan.
This was starting to really freak me out. I knew I shouldn’t be bothered that the undead no longer found me appetizing, but it didn’t seem right. Speaking of things that didn’t seem right, it was right about then that I once again suddenly became acutely aware that I was walking around in my underwear, in the middle of the street.
Thus, with my clothes now in-hand, I stopped to put my pants on. I was pretty sweaty, so I knew that getting into my leather pants was not going to be easy.
I figured that even though the three infected were not interested in me, that I should still get rid of them. It could be any minute that they decided they were hungry again and sprint for me. I walked up close to them and pointed the gun to the backs of their heads. With three quick shots, three new, completely dead infected hit the road.
I took my pants back to the van and used the blanket to try and dry the sweat and blood off of my legs. I managed to get the pants on when my luck turned again. I saw what looked like a boot string dangling from the other bench seat. I opened the lid, and my snake boots, as well as a crap load of MREs, spilled out.
With my heart pounding, I peeked my head out of the van again to see what the noise had attracted but I didn’t see anything. So, I grabbed my boots and pulled them on.
Afterward, I heaved the backpack over my shoulder and left the van of death, hopefully for the last time.
I yanked the rifle from the remains of Ben and rolled over what was left of him to take the extra clips from his belt. I looked up and saw another group of about five infected headed my way. They were still about a hundred feet away, which gave me plenty of time to make it to the woods.
I stuffed the extra rifle magazines in the pack and
was startled by a shrill scream. I stood and looked around, seeing nothing other than the five infected that were slowly headed in my direction just a few seconds ago, now speeding past me, towards the scream. I used a hinge from the van door to pull myself up so I could see over the van.
I saw a man and a woman running down the road, away from me, with the five infected now chasing after them. There wasn’t even a question in my mind that I needed to help these two, and I took off running after the infected.
My how the tides had turned!
I ran, but my broken ribs reminded me that I was not in perfect condition. I pushed harder, using the woman’s screams as an incentive to keep pumping my legs as fast as my broken body would let me.
I got to within about ten feet of the group of five infected and stopped. I took a firing stance and was about to pull the trigger when the woman turned to face me, still running away.
“Don’t shoot us, please!” She screamed.
I realized that if I did miss one of my targets, I could just as easily shoot one of them on accident. I guessed now was as good a time as any to see if the infected still didn’t care for me, this time while they were all worked up and on the hunt.
I started running after the infected again. They were at a jogging pace, but I caught up pretty quick, busted ribs and all. I made an arc around them, keeping a pretty good distance, just in case they decided that I’d be a suitable meal replacement for the two still running away, but again, they didn’t seem to notice me at all.
Eventually, I got far enough ahead that I could stop and shoot them down, one by one, and that’s what I did. They were moving, but nine shots took the five of them down for good.
I turned to see that the couple had stopped running a little further down the road, and they were just staring at me and panting. I wrapped my arm around my broken ribs, which were now screaming in pain as I breathed heavily from the exertion of running.
