I race over despite the fact it won’t actually help him. He lets off a third and fourth shot, turning her head into an open bloody mess, like a gruesome bread bowl soup. It sloshes around in the broken walls of her cranial cavity, splashing over the edge and dripping down her curly white hair. But she won’t let go.
I yank my spiked torture weapon from her face. It meets little resistance and probably would have fallen out on its own after another gunshot or two. She stumbles to the side as I pull it out, crunching something beneath her feet. Oh gross, it’s got to be her ear that got ripped off by one of the spikes.
Wait, no, it’s not an ear. It’s her dentures. Those are her teeth. Her teeth are on the ground. That means her teeth aren’t digging into Neil’s arm. It’s only her gums.
He shoots again, sending a stream of liquid from her open skull but she doesn’t let go. I can’t swing this thing at her and risk hitting Neil. Oh I can’t believe I’m doing this. I drop my morningstar to the ground and grab the open rim of her scalp where blood and brain matter have mixed with rain and turned her hair into a sopping mess. I can feel her jagged fragments of skull against my palms as I pull her away from him. She struggles but I throw her down with one last burst of strength, doing everything in my power not to cut myself on broken bone.
The grotesque liquid splashes over the sides as I pull her off, overflowing like a volcano in an earthquake. It oozes down the sides of her face and over my hands before I let go. Her hunched over frame falls to the sidewalk. The point of impact jars what’s left of her brain from her skull. It glides over the slippery mess of human secretions before disappearing into a storm drain.
She continues to get up. Slower now with convulsive movements like she’s having a seizure but she still knows what she wants. With half of her head missing, she rolls to her side and tries to stand. Neil shoots again as if he’s expecting a different result. But the result is the same, another section of her skull goes airborne but it doesn’t stop her.
I grab my weapon from my feet and bring it down across what remains of her head. It sends her collapsing to the puddles once again but it’s not enough. I swing until the wrinkly skin of her neck disappears into nothing. Her body is still twitching but there’s no head left. There’s no way for her to bite.
Neil is brushing off the mucus discharge from his arm where she latched on. There’s no blood. Without her dentures, she couldn’t break the skin. Holy shit that was way too close for comfort. I thought he was a goner.
He’s still in a panic, scrubbing away just like Mr. Adams and if he keeps it up…
“Neil, stop. Neil, you’re okay. You’re alright. She doesn’t have teeth. You lucky son of a bitch.” I laugh because what else is there to do? “She didn’t bite you. There’s no blood. She didn’t get you.”
He steps back until he crashes into a parked car, his whole body shaking in fear. Tears roll down his cheeks, mixing with the rain as he slides to a sitting position, trying to catch his breath. He leans over and coughs, spewing whatever chunks he had left after his last little upchuck session. He spits the stringy bile from his mouth but most of it dangles from his lower lip until his trembling breaks it free.
“I’m alive?”
“You’re alive Neil. I don’t know how but you are. You okay?”
“Just um, just, can you give me a minute?” He rocks back and forth with his head between his knees, trying in vain to regain his composure.
I don’t know what’s come over me but I’m grateful he’s alive. It’s not just because I didn’t want to have to put him out of his misery either. Maybe I’ve gone soft but I want to see him pull through this and find a way out from under his father’s rule. I’m not sure if this moment will aid him in his quest or set him back too many steps to reclimb, but I’ll help him in any way I can. Just don’t ask me to explain why.
“Neil, you gonna be okay to help me get her out of that basement?” I ask over my shoulder while washing my hands off in the fountain. “Whoever stays up top is probably going to have to fight off a couple of those things.”
“I don’t know,” he mutters. “I don’t think I can do this. This shit is all too much. I can’t keep doing this. The evacuation center, it’s gonna be there, right? It’s gotta be. I can’t make it through another day of this, let alone any longer. My dad has to be wrong, Crazy Bus Driver, your girlfriend, they’re wrong aren’t they? There’s gonna be soldiers with enough firepower to blow these bastards back to hell, right? Please tell me I’m right.”
“I don’t know,” I say with a heavy exhale, sitting down on the curb beside him while the rain soaks every inch of me. “We’ve seen enough, more than any of them. From the school, to the house we first went into, the gas station, you went into the pharmacy alone and now this. I know what you’re going through. I know, I can’t do this anymore either. That’s why, you and me, that’s why we have to believe that evacuation center will be our safe haven. After all we’ve been through, we need that. But I don’t know. I don’t honestly know. You’ve seen what guns are capable of against these things and it isn’t much. If they’re fighting with guns, unwilling to change the way they view war, we’re screwed.”
“This is the US military we’re talking about. They know what they’re doing. They’ll figure out guns don’t work and try something else until they get it right, won’t they?”
“I want to say yes. But I’d be lying to us both if I did. Come on Neil, we haven’t won a war in how long? America’s not willing to change the way they fight. They lost Vietnam because they couldn’t grasp guerilla warfare. They lost in the Middle East because they couldn’t grasp terrorism. They’re still stuck in that march out onto the battlefield, shoot all day long and collect your bodies during a ceasefire at night sort of mind frame. They never evolved. We’ve been fighting two different kinds of wars and getting our asses kicked because we’re always two steps behind. We can’t expect this one to be any different.”
“You’re saying we’re royally fucked?”
“If we go into this like we’ve been going into war since the 1960s, then yes, mankind as we know it is done.”
“Then what the fuck are we doing here? Why are we trying so hard to get to that evacuation center?”
“For the chance that maybe they’ve finally learned. That maybe they learned from their mistakes and they’ll actually be able to rescue us. Because that sliver of hope is all we have and maybe, just maybe, this will all work out. Come on,” I say, standing up and offering him my hand. “Let’s go give Felecia the burial she deserves. Make it through tonight, and then tomorrow we can start heading towards Shasta Lake.”
“I don’t think I can do it. I’m sorry. I can’t, Noah, I can’t see her like that. I can’t fight off any more of these things. I can’t even stop my knees from shaking enough to walk. I’m not you. I can’t do it. Just leave me here. If you don’t come back for me, I’ll understand.”
“Do you want me to get you to the bus?”
“No. I need to be alone.”
“I’ll come back for you, Neil. We’ll get on that bus together and figure this out. I’ll be back for you.”
He nods without looking up at me. I wish I could say he’ll be alright but the truth is, I’m not sure he will. And I can’t blame him. I don’t know how I’m holding it together. Or how much longer I’ll be able to.
I round the corner where I’m finally alone. I can’t hold it in anymore. In the solitude, tears fall from my eyes. I couldn’t hold them in if I tried. I don’t want to see her like this any more than Neil does. I don’t want this to be life. I don’t want to kill things. Not animals on hunting trips, not humans who want to kill me and not the resurrected versions of them who want to kill me even more. I don’t want my dad to see me as a disappointment. I don’t want to go to some evacuation center where they’re going to strip us of everything we have left. I don’t want to lead anyone or follow anyone or live by someone else’s rules or become a rebel and live by my own
. I don’t want any of this. And I definitely don’t want any of this without Felecia by my side.
I can’t stop myself from crying. My lips quiver as breathless sobs escape from deep within me. Raindrops infiltrate my mouth in an attempt to keep me quiet. Nature’s way of protecting me, perhaps as an apology for all that’s happened in the last couple days. They’ll hear me crying. They’ll remember the weakness tears bring and I’ll attract every dead thing within a three block radius. I choke down the wind and continue to cry. I don’t even care anymore. Let them find me.
Another fire burns in the distance, larger than the one raging behind me. It’s my neighborhood. Mom’s apartment. Up in flames. All traces of my life before this, erased. It’s all gone. Last week has no real bearing on today. Those problems seem so trivial now. Do I spend the summer at my dad’s and hang out with my little brother and sister in the city? Do I ask Caylee to prom or go it alone? Which colleges do I apply for? Do I go out of state or stay close to home? Do any of these things ever stand a chance of being relevant again?
Or will I forever be tasked with figuring out impossible choices no person should ever have to deal with? Do I get back on that bus? Where do I go if I don’t? Do I murder Joseph Buckley? How do I get down into a burning basement to retrieve the charred remains of someone it turns out I love more than life itself? Do I even want to continue living this life?
My heart feels like it’s about to hammer its way out of my chest. The raindrops pound against my eyes, practically forcing them shut. I need Felecia’s hand to shield them. I need her hand to hold mine. I need… that ladder. There’s a ladder on the back of a pickup truck. I can use that to get down into the basement. What else is back here? I climb into the bed but the toolbox is locked. A tarp. I saw her body. Unrecognizable. I’ll need to wrap her in this in order to get her out of there. Why am I doing this? What difference does a funeral make? We’re all gonna be dead soon anyway. I know, I know, funerals are for the living, as a way to heal and find closure. But we’re barely living and let’s face it, we won’t be here long enough to heal or find closure. But I slide the ladder out and begin lugging it down the side street anyway.
Oh fuck me, I must have made too much noise getting it out. Footsteps. Multiple sets. They’re approaching quickly from the parking lot. Judging by the groaning, there must be two or three of them. They’re close. I’ll need to be quick if I’m going to take out three of these bastards alone. The ladder. I hold it out in front of me. When they round the corner they’ll crash into it, I can take them out while they’re down.
The first one comes around the corner. I brace myself for impact. She’s far enough to the right that she’ll hit the ladder but not so close to me that she’ll be able to roll over and bite.
Please tell me I did not just see that. She ducked. She ducked right under it. Either they’re getting smarter or–
“Noah?”
CHAPTER 22
I stare in disbelief at the apparition in front of me.
“Felecia?” I whisper, not quite able to comprehend what’s happening.
Two of them dart around the building and crash into the ladder, jarring me out of my little daydream. The impact damn near knocks me over but I manage to keep my balance. I drop the ladder from my shaky palms and bring the morningstar down across the closest one’s head. A sharpened sword would make this so much easier. I am so sick of ripping through flesh with these stupid metal spikes, sending blood and scraps of skin flying. No matter how many times I do it, I still never get used to it.
A few more swings dismember the elderly gentleman to the point of decapitation.
I turn to take care of the other one but ghost Felecia brings a sword down across its neck, sending a head rolling down the street. I rub my eyes, trying to blink her away before she gets me killed. But she’s still there. Black soot smears her soft skin. The rain has carved streaks through the caked on blackness. Her stylish muumuu is torn with entire sections of it missing completely.
The apparition of the girl I love drops her sword. Somehow I hear it clang as if it’s really there. It lands next to a tool bag and her axe, the one we got from the barn. This is all too real. Her hands shoot to her mouth. She shakes her head as if I’m the one who can’t possibly be standing in front of her.
“You came back for me,” she whispers hoarsely, coughing between her words, tears forming in her eyes.
“Felecia?” It’s her. I’m not seeing things. It really is her. “You’re alive?”
“I’m alive,” she nods.
I drop my weapon and step towards the girl that can’t possibly be standing in front of me. She reaches out her arms and wraps them around me so tight it knocks the wind out of me. I squeeze her so hard she whimpers involuntarily into my ear as her feet leave the ground. The incessant pounding of her heartbeat is almost enough to knock me over but I’d never let her fall. I can’t tell if that’s her crying or me or if it’s both of us, I think it’s both of us. Yeah, I’m definitely crying, it’s hard to tell in the rain but I’m sure of it.
Her feet touch the ground again as she slowly slides down my body. Her crystal blue eyes, tears pouring from them, look up at me and once again I’ve found my will to live. Raindrops pound our faces, so close to one another that drops that hit her splash onto me. She is the most perfect thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on. She can’t be real. This is a dream. She’s an angel now, coming to take me away. Who are we kidding, Felecia, an angel?
I cup her face with my hands to make sure she’s not a figment of my imagination. But she’s real. I can feel her. Her damp skin is amazing. I brush back the wet hair from her face. Her eyes flutter shut at my touch. They open slowly, burning a hole into my soul that I never want closed. She runs her tongue over her lips while inching closer, her mouth parting ever so slightly.
Before either of us can stop it or try to fight what we’re feeling, our lips meet. I’ve never felt anything like this. It sends tingles down my spine, healing every injury I’ve sustained in the last 36 hours. Her hand brushes against my face and holds on gently, like she’ll fall over if she dares let go.
What starts as soft and tender kisses turn more passionate by the second. Her tongue slips into my mouth where it rubs against mine. Her soft moans are suffocated by our lips. We aren’t in the middle of the road in the pouring rain with burning buildings falling all around us, dead bodies scattered at our feet as blood meanders its way into storm drains.
We’re at the eighth grade dance in the middle of the auditorium. We’re at the movies where we have no idea what’s taking place on the giant screen. We’re at her house, making out on her bed when we’re supposed to be studying with the door open. We’re at the beach on a summer night kissing by the fire or at the Leyland Fair in autumn at the top of the Ferris Wheel. We’re cuddled under the covers at a ski lodge while the snow falls around us. We’re at the junior prom. We’re in the city kissing in the backseat of a cab. This is Felecia, make that an Uber. We’re at our senior prom. Graduation. Freshman orientation. College parties. Our first apartment. We’re kissing after I declare my love for her in some romantic gesture and ask her to make me the luckiest man alive, for the rest of our lives. Our wedding. The birth of our first child. The middle of a zombie apocalypse that’s desecrated mankind and destroyed the world as we know it but none of that matters because Felecia Harmon is here with me.
We finally pry our lips apart, her heavy breaths blow against my face as her eyes slowly open. This is real. She’s really here.
“I heard gunshots,” she whispers, her words brushing against my lips. “I came running, hoping it was you. I got the sharpening stones,” she coughs, pulling away from me to spit black saliva from her lungs. “I got them. I only had time to grab a few.”
“How did you get out of there?” I ask in a breathless whisper, barely audible over the sound of the rain beating down around us.
“The floor caved in, I jumped into the backroom. I tried to call for you but a
nother piece of ceiling came down.” She pauses between sentences to catch her breath, a side effect from all the smoke she inhaled. “You jumped out of the front window, I could see you through the smoke. I just grabbed everything I could and ran. There was a side door into the alleyway. I had to fight off a few of them.”
“The stones were in the back?”
“No,” she says with a shake of her head. “I went into the hardware store. That’s where I got this,” she says, nudging the tool bag with her foot. “More of them kept coming, too many to fight off with my axe. So I hid and sharpened a sword for awhile. It works Noah, you were right. It cuts right through them. The long gray stone, that one’s the best. I like your spiked club thingy. You have any idea how sexy you are swinging that around? Where is everyone? What happened? Please, don’t tell me…”
“They’re okay. We made it. But, they’re back on the bus.”
“What?” she shrieks, causing her to cough again. “Why?”
“Caylee, I think she broke her leg. Marty wasn’t able to get off, he drove it into a swarm of them to rescue us. We thought you were dead. Me and Neil came back to find you, we saw your body in the basement. That’s why I have this,” I say motioning toward the ladder.
“You were gonna go down there just to get my body out? Noah, no, you can’t risk your life for stuff like that,” she whines, caressing my cheek with the back of her hand.
“I had to. To make sure it was you. To give you a proper sendoff. Tyrone and Caylee were gonna come too but Buckley wouldn’t let them.”
“Where’s Neil?”
“He’s back on the other side. We got attacked, he’s a bit shaken up. I think me and him are gonna be okay. He knows his dad needs to go. My friends are on the bus too, they have a couple guns. I think we can overthrow Buckley.”
“Okay. Hey, how’s your wrist?” she asks, taking my hand in hers to examine it.
“If I swing with both hands, it’s not too bad. How about you? Are you hurt anywhere?”
Blood Type Infected (Book 2): Fallen To The Flame Page 13
