by A. R. Wise
Now Stitch was dead, locked in the back of this trailer that Hero and I were about to open.
Hero pulled at the latch and the doors popped open. A thin line of black split the two doors and I aimed my pistol between them as Hero stepped back and drew his gun as well. We waited, and watched, as the doors sat silent.
"Come on out, mother fuckers." Hero called out to the creatures in the truck.
Another uneventful moment passed.
"Is it safe?" asked Celeste from behind me.
"No."
We waited another moment. Hero glanced at me, and I nodded to him, completing a wordless interaction that let him know I agreed he should open the doors wider. He was on the right side, while I stood centered, aiming the pistol through the slat. He held his gun with his left hand and reached out with his right to grab the handle.
Then the door burst wide before he had a chance to open it.
The first creature hit the door and then fell face first into the dirt. It was a woman, but it wasn't Hailey or Stitch. I dispatched her quickly with two shots to the back of her skull. Her head bounced with the second shot and a mix of blackened blood and foam splashed as her pink brains sprayed out over the dry earth.
The floodgates were opened, and the living dead poured forth. They forced the doors wide and fell out of the truck faster than we could shoot them. The first few hit the ground similar to the girl I'd just shot, debilitated by the fall and left vulnerable to a quick kill shot, but then the rest came at us with better footing. They lunged off the edge of the truck and stayed upright as they descended the pile of bodies below.
I was using a stainless Smith & Wesson 1911 with a low profile and no back sights. It had a beaver tail grip that helped keep my aim steady and I always carried two loaded eight round magazines with me in addition to what it was loaded with. The first nine shots went quickly, and the crowd of undead faces looming within the dark truck hardly seemed to dissipate. I had been putting the creatures down with two shots each, because it was foolish to assume that one shot always did the trick, but I was forced to retreat and slow my assault in fear of running out of ammo.
"Loading," I said to let Hero know he needed to cover me. We took turns killing, and I was the first to fire, which meant I needed to load quickly and then cover him as he did the same.
"Loading," he said just as I finished.
The creatures were coming out too fast, and there were more than we could handle. "Move back," I said and started to take steps away from the truck. Hero did the same, and I didn't have to worry about what position he would take. We fought perfectly together, and he knew to take flank while I stayed at six o'clock. It was a choreographed assault that would help split the ranks of the creatures while affording us the ability to cover one another.
Celeste was the wildcard, and I'd forgotten she was there. I assumed she would move behind me, like any normal person would, but she walked forward with her stick held far in front.
"Get back here!"
She ignored me.
I ran forward to grab her, but the swell of creatures moved quicker. They swarmed, and I was forced to retreat as the foolhardy stranger wandered into their midst.
"Clockwise," I screamed to Hero, telling him to come my way to avoid hitting Celeste with his gunfire.
"What's she doing?" he asked, but the screams of the dead and the ringing in my ears from the shots made it hard to hear him.
I was furious with her, until I saw what she could do. Celeste whipped her simple stick through the air with deadly accuracy. Each strike debilitated her attacker, and despite wading into the sea of flailing arms and gnashing jaws, she easily avoided their attacks. I saw the stick break against a zombie's jaw and feared that Celeste would be overcome. Her weapon hadn't broken in two, but was severely bent and she took it by either end before snapping it the rest of the way. Now she was armed with two halves, the ends jagged and sharp, and changed her fighting style to accommodate the new weapons. She swiped the sticks at the creatures as if wielding swords and took them out twice as fast as before. I watched in shock and she caught my glance during one of her twirling assaults.
She smiled and winked at me.
"What the fuck?" I murmured before shooting another creature in the face.
Hero came around to stand beside me, and we did our best to protect the girl from the creatures that surrounded her, but I don't think she needed our help. We watch in awe as she plunged her makeshift weapons into the creatures over and over. One of the zombies moved around her side, and I took aim but wasn't able to get a shot off before Celeste spun and put her stick through the back of the monster's head. The jagged spike punctured the corpse's neck and jutted out of his mouth before she threw him to the ground. Her tree-limb-sword was still lodged in the creature's head, but she continued to fight without it.
"Awesome!" Hero shouted with giddy enthusiasm and I couldn't help but agree.
Celeste stood above the mass of corpses, bloodied and exuberant. She still held one half of her staff and looked around for any other attackers, but none were left.
"Is that all of them? Are we done?" she asked as she looked at our stunned faces.
"Who the fucking hell are you, girl?" asked Hero with a laugh.
She shrugged. "I was trained for this."
"By who? Bruce Lee?" he asked.
"I don't know who that is." She tossed the remaining shard of her weapon into stack of bodies.
Hero holstered his gun and I did the same. He reached out to help Celeste step over the corpses. "Babe, I've got some movies back home that you're going to love. Trust me."
"Who trained you?" I asked, bewildered by her prowess.
"The place that I came from, the Facility."
"No shit?" asked Hero. "Why in the hell are they training chicks to kill zombies when they're the ones making them? That doesn't make any sort of sense at all."
She shrugged and shook the fresh blood off her hands before swiping hair out of her eyes. "I don't know, but all of us were trained to fight with staves."
"You're good," I said. "No doubt about that, but the next time you step in my line of fire, I'm going to beat your ass myself. Understood?"
"Sorry," she said. "I got excited."
I glared at her to make sure she understood I was serious. I was impressed by what she'd done, but it was an unnecessary risk.
"Chill out, Kim," said Hero. "This ninja just butt-fucked a truck full of zombies. Give her a break."
I glared at him, and he shut up. "Come on," I said as I held my hand out for Celeste. "Let's go find your friend."
We climbed into the back of the truck, which had been nearly cleared of bodies now. It wasn't hard to find Hailey. Her brilliant red hair was visible even in the dark trailer, and we pulled away the corpses that covered her. Celeste wrapped her arms around the girl and pulled her close. Rigor mortis had already set in, but enough time had passed that her body started to loosen slightly. Still though, Celeste had to drag the stiff corpse of her lover into her lap where she wept over her.
I turned away, but didn't want to leave her alone. If one of the bodies in here stirred, I needed to be here to put it down. The virus that created the zombies could lie dormant in corpses, and even though the bodies looked dead, it was a mistake to assume they weren't dangerous.
I caught sight of Stitch. My former partner was pressed against the back of the trailer, her head perched at an odd angle after sliding back and forth in the rear of the truck during our trip.
I'm a callous, uncaring woman.
This was the moment I realized it.
I was staring at Stitch, a girl that I'd spent countless hours beside, who had saved my life more times than I'd saved hers, and she was dead to me. I felt nothing when I stared at her corpse. No emotions stirred in me except the concern that Stitch's eyes would open. I liked her when she was alive, but now she was gone, and I felt no sorrow when I stared at her body.
When had I become like this? The
attack that crippled my son had steeled my resolve, but it wasn't the only thing that robbed me of normal human compassion. My thoughts drifted back to the Red Days, before the apocalypse had begun. I'd been five when the Red World ended, and only had scant recollections of what it had been like before the zombies appeared. I could remember my father, although he was always working. I remembered my sister's closet, where she would hide candy behind a mountain of stuffed animals. I remembered my mother singing as she cut up apples for me to eat as a snack on the blanket that was laid out in front of the television. Then I thought about the day I watched my mother shoot a police officer with a shotgun. I remembered holding my hands over my eyes, with my fingers parted just enough to see the man's face explode into a mass of gore. While many of my memories of childhood were hazy, that particular one was as clear as day. I wish I could forget it.
"I'm ready," said Celeste. She looked over in the direction I'd been staring and saw Stitch. "Was she your friend?"
I nodded as I blinked away the memory of murder.
"I'm sorry. This must be hard for you."
I looked at her, and was at a loss for words.
She hugged me, and I rigidly accepted the embrace though I didn't need it. It felt awkward, and I wasn't sure if she was trying to console me or if she was hoping I'd console her. I just pat her back with three rapid taps.
"Come on, let's go," I said and wormed out of her arms.
Hero helped us down. I grabbed the blanket and then we headed for the stream where we could wash off. The virus is a bloodborne pathogen, which made the mess that clung to us dangerous.
Hero went west to afford us some privacy as I led Celeste down the rocky embankment to the shallow stream. The water was icy after its descent from the mountains and Celeste yelped after dipping the tips of her fingers in to test the temperature.
"You're kidding, right?" she asked. "You expect me to wash off in this? It's freezing."
I shrugged and knelt down to test the water for myself. "You're right, it's cold, but we don't have any other choice. Go ahead and get undressed. You can wrap up in the blanket after washing off."
She grimaced, but did as told. She was bashful, and I turned around as she disrobed. "We need to look for any black spots on your neck, armpits, or groin."
"I don't see anything."
I didn't look at her as I pointed out into the two-foot deep stream. "Go ahead and wash off, then I'll check you out."
She complained as she waded into the stream. I waited as she washed herself off, and then finally turned to look at her when she said she was done.
Celeste was young and beautiful. She was athletic, and her abdominal muscles were well defined as she tensed and quivered in the freezing water. Her body was flawless, like one of the women that adorned the magazines from the Red Days. I couldn't help but envy her young, taut stomach. I'm not old, just barely twenty-five, but the birth of my son had ravaged my body. That was one of the things they never warn you about before having a child: It wreaks havoc on your body.
I was still thin, and in good shape, but there were stretch marks on my side, and on my breasts, from when I ballooned up during pregnancy. Celeste's body was unmarred by such blemishes, and I kind of despised her for it. I've never been the type of girl that wallows in catty condemnation of other, pretty girls, but I'd be lying if I said such petty thoughts never enter my head. Hell, any woman who claims they don't think awful thoughts about a younger, prettier girl is a liar.
"Can I have the blanket?" asked Celeste as she shivered.
"Oh yeah, sorry, here." I handed it over to her.
She wrapped herself up in the tan blanket and knelt down so the thin fabric covered as much of her body as possible. "I didn't see any black spots anywhere." Her lips had taken on a blue hue and she was shaking as she spoke.
"Dry off and warm up a little," I said. "Then I'll check you out to make sure you're clean. Sorry, I know this is uncomfortable, but we need to make sure you're not infected before we take you back to camp. We've got a lot of families there, and can't risk exposure."
"Don't worry, I understand." She focused on my wedding ring and asked, "Do you have a family?"
I looked at my mother's ring, which she'd given to me on my wedding day. "Yes."
"A husband?"
"Yeah," I said less enthusiastically.
"Any children?"
"I have a six year old boy named David."
"Is he with his Dad?" she asked.
It was a sore subject, and not one I wanted to talk about. "No, he's staying with his grandmother."
"I used to dream about getting married," she said while still looking at my ring. "They would show us videos at the Facility of girls in wedding dresses, and extravagant parties on the Surface. They said we would all meet the men of our dreams once we graduated, and that we would get married."
I snickered. "It's not all it's cracked up to be."
She nodded and said, "I know that now."
There was something about the way she responded that broke my heart. My snide remark was meant as a comment on my own failed marriage, but her heartbreak was fresh and innocent. It was like seeing a child learn that all the fairytales they loved were lies, all at once. I towered above her as she huddled with the blanket over her shoulders, and felt suddenly empathetic towards her for the first time.
"It's not all bad."
"What's not?" she asked.
"The Surface. I know you've had a couple rough days, and I'm not going to lie and say that everything's going to be great here on out, but I can promise that there're better days ahead."
"I can't stop thinking about Hailey." When she spoke, it sounded like a confession. I longed to ease her pain.
"I know," I said as I sat on the rocks beside her and put my arm on her shoulder. "I've lost important people in my life too. We all have."
"I can't imagine how a person can ever get over something like this." Her words were nearly a whisper, as if barely more than a thought in her head.
I stroked her hair. "It'll feel like that for awhile. The best thing to do is think about one great moment you had with Hailey, and focus on it."
"Is that what you do?" she asked. "Who did you lose?"
"I've lost a lot of people," I said. "The first one was my father. He died when I was very young, right when the apocalypse started. He saved us from those creatures."
"What did you used to think about to make you happy?" asked Celeste.
"When I was young, I used to think about him working in the garage, singing to music." I smiled as I recalled that distant memory. "Then, when I was older, I started to remember a different picture of him that made me even happier. It was right before he died. He'd come home to get us, and had been hurt pretty bad on the trip. His head was all bandaged up, his arm was in a sling, and even his hands were bleeding. He'd fought all day to get home, and then we got into a truck and drove out to my school. We were in the truck, with my dad on my right, with my sister beside me in the middle, and Mom was driving through a field. We were bouncing over these big hills and he was laughing and smiling as we went."
I pretended to cough as the memory of that day threatened to make me cry. "I never thought about it until I got older and had a kid of my own, but that moment has become my favorite memory of him. It's the one I think about when times are tough."
"Why?" asked Celeste.
"Because, even though he was in pain, and every time that truck bounced it must've hurt him like hell, he still smiled and laughed to keep my sister and me happy. I don't know if he was just that happy to see us, or if he was hiding his pain to keep us from being scared, but either way, that's my favorite memory of him." I squeezed Celeste's shoulder and pulled her closer to me. "What about you? What's your favorite memory of Hailey?"
"That's easy," she said.
"Okay, tell me. Or is it personal?"
"No, it's not personal." Celeste brought her knees up to her chest and tucked the blanket under her but
t to get more comfortable before settling back up against me. "You saw how pretty her hair was, right?"
"Yes, she had gorgeous red hair," I said, a bit envious. My sister had similarly pretty hair that always put my brown locks to shame.
"Well, we lived in the Facility our whole lives, and her hair was pretty down there too, but it was nothing compared to what it looked like in the sun. My favorite image of her, the one that'll stay with me forever, is when she first walked out into the sunshine. It was when the sun was setting, and everything was lit up with an orange hue, and her hair looked like it was blazing. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
She started to cry again, and I nestled her head on my chest as I wrapped my arms around her. Her shoulders quaked as she sobbed and I didn't try to shush her.
We'd arrived here at midday, but had been here long enough that the sun had started heading towards the mountains. It glinted off the stream in blinding flashes that nearly masked my vision of Hero, running nude in our direction.
"What the fuck?" I let Celeste go and stood up to see what was going on.
Hero had his clothes tucked under his arm and his hands cupping his genitals as he trudged across the rocky terrain. It would've been a comical sight if not for how out of character it was.
"Get to the truck!" He screamed out, but I didn't understand him at first.
"The truck?"
"Get to the truck!"
"What's wrong?" I asked as I helped Celeste up.
He pointed north.
The stream's incessant hum had masked the sound of what was approaching. Off in the distance, amid the puffs of clouds that dotted the blue sky, were a series of black dots in a single line.
"They're coming," said Hero as he struggled to get his pants back on.
