hear it from my Dad. Hell, maybe even the council. All the while those people were trapped in the city, if not dead by then.
“J, not feeling well, call in a replacement till nightfall. I’m headed home. Over.” His words caught me by surprise. I flipped my lids open to see him repositioning his walkie on his leather belt.
“I’m going with you.” His blue eyes met mine with that eerie conviction of a man who had made up his mind. In that moment he truly looked much older than his years.
I breathed a sigh of relief, genuinely appreciating the gravity of what he had just done. He had put his position at risk for me. Hell, his life. A second pair of eyes would be useful. He was right after all, no one had been up there in ages. I nodded and gave him a half smile.
We didn.t really talk the rest of the way to the wall. Finding the right timing to get up and over without being spotted by the north guard was a bit difficult. The only thing we had going for us was speed. The guard towers did a slow scan, not only because our problem was slow moving but because they had grown pretty secure with our nighttime protectors.
We kept crouched down low in the tall grass until we were up against the wood. The closest station was a good half mile west from this peg point, so we could see the outline of the on duty. Greg, if I recall his name, was lazily looking out into the distance. It wasn.t my shift so I wasn’t as familiar with the folks.
When Cole thought the timing was right he hissed at me. “Move it Liv!”
That was all I needed. I reached up grabbing the first peg just over my head. Pushing off on the wall I climbed against the wood. Swinging my short legs hard to the left for momentum I grabbed the next upward peg. Then the next. Two more and I was able to swing my legs over and drop down. Hitting the grass hard I rolled to the side and sprung to my feet. In my peripheral I caught the dark blur of Cole behind me.
This is where it gets interesting. Our location was at the heart of the plains. The biggest geographical feature of the region was never ended flat land. Trees were mostly found separating cropland after lessons learned in the 1920’s. For us, that translated into moving quick and low.
We had to stay among the tall grass and avoid being spotted by the lookout. Last thing we’d want would be our own men calling in our extermination. As we moved along in the weeds I felt the panic rise in my chest.
Every step I pictured a half mangled deadhead reaching for me in the grass; the steel grip of a leathery hand. My breathing pattern changed the more I obsessed on the visual. After all, we had three by the marker just earlier today. If those damned bloodsuckers aren’t doing their job who knows how many other shamblers were out here? Tens? Hundreds?
Perhaps this was a bad idea. Maybe we should head back.
Cole, who had wiggled into the lead, turned back to look at me.
“Hanging in there Liv?” He whispered. I read the undertones of his statement. The question was a challenge; did I really have what it took to do this?
Looking up toward the sky, I drew in a lung full of air. Since the outbreak my lot in life had been the protection of the living. Granted that noble charge was with a pretty big safety net.
That net wasn’t always there was it? It wasn’t over the wall. It wasn’t there when I took out those three earlier today. It was just Me. And Them.
The answer was yes. I could manage. I would manage. Lives were depending on me, now was not the time to get weak in the knees. With a deep exhale, I tried to put my fears to bed. I knew if I spoke my voice was going to waiver, so I just nodded like a bobblehead.
Once we were out of lookout range, we moved upright. Didn.t go much faster though until we hit the pavement, grass was still a potential camouflage for grabbers.
As soon as our boots hit the asphalt we laid eyes on the Onda Shop. The H had become a lawn ornament at some point, resting next to the front door like a double pointed arrow welcoming guests. Aside from naming confusion, the building was pretty well maintained. Considering it was still in questionable use I wasn’t surprised. The vehicles that were sold here Junction used for emergencies. Any fuel we could find was stockpiled in the sheds out back.
Walking up the drive from the paved display lots along roadside, we saw the traces of life that had been through in the last few months. A few discarded cans, some wood left by the fire pit. Convoys would overnight in the parking lots if they needed. It was the closest place they could rest to town. There was no way to get vehicles through the wall, part of the design. Even if we could, folks didn’t really trust outsiders so there was a potential it would end poorly. Stranger danger; another symptom of village mentality.
The front double doors were unlocked; pushing them open brought forth the wonderful aroma of stale motor oil, dust and air that had not been filtered in almost a decade.
I coughed.
“Yeah it's pleasant in here.” He commented.
“I feel like we just unearthed the tomb of motocross.” I managed to utter while commanding my lungs to behave. Cole laughed.
After an initial sweep of the floor and adjoining offices, Cole grabbed a set of keys from the counter and we started the hunt for the matching set of wheels.
“Do you know how to ride one of these?” I asked him, running my hands over the handlebars of an incredibly dusty black bike that said shadow on the tank.
“Well it can’t be that hard right?” He quipped, jumping on the back of a red bike that screamed college guy on the prowl. The key in his hand went into the ignition. With a smug grin he turned the key. The roar of the motorcycle echoed in the dead quiet of the building. With the flick of his wrist the bike lurched forward.
Without its rider.
The cherry red bike slid and clattered across the concrete floor while Cole landed wide-eyed on his ass.
At that point I lost it. I laughed until my sides ached.
“Hey! Knock it off!” He scrambled to get back on his feet. Brushing off his jeans, his face was the color of the metal. Cole was stiff walking back over to his wheels, I don’t doubt for a moment that probably hurt like hell. And not just pain of the ego variety.
He got back on the bike, checking for signs of damage. When my reaction had quieted down to a snicker he grumbled at me.
“You know it’s not like we had drivers ed or anything.”
“Suure. That.s what just happened.” He did a few slower practice circles around the showroom. I’m sure he would have continued to practice had I not started tapping my foot with impatience. We had maybe three hours of good light left, and we hadn.t even left yet. I propped open the front double doors so he could ride out. Once the building was secure, I carefully climbed onto the back of the bike.
It was harder than expected. Not only as I had to dodge his katana to hold onto his back, but keeping our joined balance leaning into turns. With my tight grip around his waist, some little voice in the back of my brain registered the fact that he had no fat on his abs at all. I was holding onto a wall of muscle.
Cole turned the handgrip and we flew. It startled me at first; I held on tight and closed my eyes, fully prepared to be thrown off into the grass.
A few minutes went by and I had registered no pain, just the wind whipping against my face. Slowly, I opened my eyes.
Flying. That’s what it reminded me of.
It has been so long since I had been near a car, my mind had nearly forgotten how fast the trees flew by or how the wind felt through an open window. This was ten times that. This was freedom. The winding grey of the manmade road surrounded by the overgrown effects of nature. I was surprised how quickly the earth reclaims the untended farmlands. Another decade and one might wonder if man ever walked these parts.
To get to the city, we had to go through the main road of three larger towns then Junction. That was a big feat on a good day, so we took the long route down the county roads. We didn.t see any deadheads on the ten mile stretch between rural route 52 and Interstate 5.
There were unfortunately the after e
ffects of plenty of last stand attempts along the way. This road was your typical country mix of farmlands with their four-generations-and-counting homes and the rich city boy who wanted to buy a hunk of land and plop a suburban castle
on it. A lot of windows were boarded up on the ground level. One was half burned down. Whomever thought of that bright idea did not deserve a medal.
Deadheads didn’t fall when burning. You just ended up with deadheads on fire shambling in your direction.
About a half mile from the on ramp, some panicked driver had put his Lexus through the bay window of his oversized home. Pity, the four car garage was just to the left.
I tightened my grip on Cole as we banked right up the half circle on ramp. On the freeway that had lingered above us rested the abandoned vehicles of countless number. Lucky for us, the lanes leaving the city were jammed metal to metal.
On our side of the divider, cars were stalled out chaotically along the road. Most had the good sense to move away from metro areas, or at least try to, during the outbreak. It appeared a few brave souls had attempted to return for loved ones.
Across the tall concrete divider I saw a lot of cars with doors wide open. Folks had apparently taken to fleeing on foot. A few miles in, a SUV sat with a giant hole through the driver side window. Then a station wagon without a windshield. It was pretty obvious at that
point this area of the jam was stalled out when the deadheads came through. The poor folks inside either too panicked or surrounded to try to make a run for it.
I shuddered and held tighter onto Cole.
Ahead I could see the Exit 99 sign. And a big problem.
Looked like some folks had tried to force the metal blockage to move, the divider was broken. A mangled semi was flayed across both directional lanes, along with the chopped remains of small sedans who had tried desperately to squeak past.
We pulled up alongside it. Cole killed the engine on the bike. I hopped off and started to look around, perhaps we could move some of mess out of the way.
“Well what now?” He asked, looking at the wreckage.
“I don’t kno..”
“Shh.” He put a finger to his lips. Eyes wide. Before I could ask him what the hell, I heard why. The dull moan called from behind us in a choir; the scraping sound of something moving against the pavement. Turning my head slowly I saw how many.
The loud roar of the motorcycle had called out our presence like a dinner bell.
In the road behind us a far spread group of four lurched forward. These were older ones, brittle skin and hollowed eyes. If you wrapped them in gauze someone could probably shout mummy and be accurate. A few deadheads were nothing we couldn.t handle, it was what I saw to the far right that caused my heart to stop.
Across the divider in the jam packed lanes, the rusted vehicles stirred with their former passengers. Skeletal hands flecked with skin started to rap against windows in a slow methodical fashion.
It was a metal to metal montage of destruction, with no visible way through...and the dead were hungry.
Chapter 3
“Get on the bike Liv! Get on!” Cole shouted at me, turning the ignition key. His eyes were wide, I could see his hands shaking as he fiddled with the key. Somehow he managed to start it and off we went.
I didn’t waste a beat. I climbed back on and held tight. I admit I was worried on what would come next. Cole could barely drive that thing, now we have to bob and weave through the dead. Images flashed through my mind of us skidding into a ditch, knocked unconscious.
Free buffet.
“What are you doing Cole?” I yelled in his ear over the engine roar.
“Getting us home.” He hollered back, the first in the road was to the left by a sideways sedan. We veered hard right to get around, came so close I could feel the disturbance in the air where one tried to grab at me. There were more, ahead. Who knew where the hell they were all
coming from. I counted fifteen just along the inner wall and twice that across the barrier attempting to climb over.
“If we go back now those things will follow us all the way.” I shouted at him, his sword hilt kept hitting me in the face as he turned in and out of the growing obstacles in the road.
“They won.t make it to Junction before nightfall.” He countered. Which was probably true, they were slow moving and it was almost a fifty mile stretch. Could we count on those bloodsuckers to go this far north and clear? They apparently hadn’t thus far. What if the deadheads
trickled in, not at night but during the next day? Or days later?
“You want to risk it?” When he didn’t answer I continued. “Exit 97. Let’s do what we came here for.” Cole didn.t respond as we rode on, the exit ramp was fast approaching on the left.
Along with three more in the center road ahead; a dragger and two uprights. One of which had lost both of its eyes, but still turned toward the sound of the bike.
Suddenly, he took a hard turn towards the off ramp.
“Damnit...” He grumbled so low I could barely hear him. “You are going to get us killed.”
The exit we took dumped us south of the city, a good five miles from where I figured the distress signal had originated. Bloody hell. If the freeway had been so inundated, what were the side streets going to be like?
We followed the two lane road north till the cornfield met its first houses; a set of modest fifties two bedrooms in cheery colors. Cole pulled into the driveway of the yellow one and killed the engine. He gestured for me to get off the bike with a shaking hand.
“To the left!” Behind the line of long since trimmed shrubs the sunken eyes of the first deadhead came into view; followed by two more. They had been in their twenties and attendees or fans of the local college from their tattered and stained attire. The skull of the first one showed through where the scalp had been peeled back, the weight of its long thin hair dragging it down the side of its head. That was the least amount of its facial damage. It looked like it had offered its face up for lunch during the outbreak.
I raised my bow and fired. A direct hit through the temple of the closest aggressor.
Cole moved in for the other two. With the finesse of a seasoned fighter, Cole lunged toward the first one. His corded muscles flexed as he pushed his blade through the chest with his left, while removing its head with the katana in his right. The black congealed blood of the long
dead seeped from the neck wound in a steady flow down its torso. With a kick to the chest, Cole dislodged it from his blade before it’s disgusting fluids rained over him. His timing was perfect, the body of the beheaded fell into the reaching arms of the smaller one. Under the weight, it fell
to the ground. Still moaning and snapping its jaws it reached out to us, up until the point that Cole drove his katana through its skull. With the thick crunch, it was silenced.
Cole didn.t appear to be done however, he beheaded the thing with a curse, kicking the now detached head into the front bushes of the chipper cottage home.
“Look Liv, I know you were all about this, but it's time to face facts. We are not going to make it that far into town.” He barked at me. “Hell, look what we’ve seen so far.” Cole slid his katana back into their holster on his back like some sort of action hero.
“I don’t understand. I thought the vamps were supposed to be clearing further and further each night? They should have green lighted these areas years ago.”
“Yeah well obviously their work ethic is questionable. Whatever you heard…it couldn.t have been right. Even if it was…they are dead by now. I’m sorry.” I really wanted to argue with him. Opening my mouth I tried to put the words together three different ways but I couldn.t. Damn him. He was right.
“We can’t take I-5.” We’d have to go past the now hungry commuters, it would lead them right back to Junction.
“Countyline Road is up ahead about a half mile. Won.t it run us into Rural Route 55?”
“Cole?” I didn.t quite know how to phrase what I was abou
t to say.
“What?”
“I used to live off of cherry and south fifth, just north of there.” My mind filled with the adorable ranch, the perfectly manicured lawn. The little frogs Mom had put in the flower beds. I’d never really felt homesick, through everything. I had my Dad, I had my life. At this moment however, I thought of that place. Of cookies on the counter, the quiet hum of a sitcom from the living room, laughter on the forced board game night and the dreary practice of my piano. I knew I would never be this close again.
His perfect brows dipped into a frown. He cursed. “I don’t like the way you’re thinking.”
“If it’s not bad…could we?” I pleaded. He cursed again, starting to pace. Cole ran a hand over his short hair as he walked, as if he was trying to jump start his brain. Subconsciously, I wrapped my arms around myself. I wasn.t cold that I registered, so what was going on with
me? Blinking hard and fast, I found myself fighting blurred vision. Oh crap, I had gone and pulled the female card. Determined not to hold it against myself, I wiped my eyes. We didn.t ask for this. Nobody did.
As the tears rolled down my face he stopped moving. His frown subsided a little bit as though he had read my mind. Of course he understood. Who of us these days didn.t have those little scars in their psyche? With a final barrage of swears that would make a sailor blush, he
climbed back on the two wheeled mechanical joy and motioned for me to join him.
A sad, too knowing, smile crossed his face when answered me. “Only if. I mean that.”
The drive down country line road was disheartening. Some of the houses held deadheads; I saw hands and faces pressing against the glass as we rode past.
None were out in the streets however. My thoughts were the infected that had the liberty to move about had done so in search of food. It was obvious they hadn’t been cleared out from our so called protectors. If so, they would have cleaned out the houses.
At the corner of South Fifth and Country Lane Road someone had built one heck of a fortification out of a massive Tudor home that had belonged to some doctor. Steel sheets had been bolted over the ground floor windows. Barbed wire on wooden spikes across the yard.
The Blood Bargain Page 3
