by Wood, Rick
She held a knife in each hand.
“Hello?” Donny asked with a high-pitched screech. “Can you help us?!”
Gus lifted an arm out to signal for him to halt, shushing him.
“Are you joking?” Donny squealed. “She just saved us! She’s here to help!”
“How about you shut the hell up and remember I’m the one who knows how to deal with these situations, yeah?” he spoke bluntly in a low, irritable grunt.
Gus twisted his body so that his legs were out of the space where the windscreen used to be. He slowly crawled, keeping his eyes on the girl the whole time, careful not to make any sudden movements, edging out of the car. Eventually, he was able to lift himself over the broken glass and crawl along the ground, taking himself to his knees.
As he went to get to his feet, she lifted her lip into a snarl, pointing a knife out toward him.
He stayed still. Didn’t move. Kept his hand out cautiously, staying on his knees.
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “It’s okay. We aren’t zombies. Look.” He lifted his arms to reveal his body intact, ignoring the pain in his muscles. “See, no limbs missing. No blood. Nothing. We’re fine.”
With a hesitant glare, she crawled toward him on all fours, keeping her hands clutched on the handle of the blade. She sniffed him. Like an untamed beast, she went up and down his neck, taking in his scent.
Behind him, he heard Donny climbing out of the car. As he realised his arm was hurt, he cried out, causing the girl to jolt upwards in alarm.
“Donny, shut the fuck up,” Gus urged him in a low pitch. “Your arm is hurt, just man up and come out slowly.”
He turned back to the girl, holding his arms in the air, remaining motionless.
“See, I’m safe. It’s okay. He’s safe, too.”
She leant her face toward Donny and sniffed. Like a wild cat, she moved her face up and down his chest, up his neck, and to his cheek.
“What is she?” Donny inquired.
Gus frowned. “How the hell would I know? How about I consult the encyclopaedia of bizarre shit.”
She backed up slightly.
“What’s your name?” Gus asked.
Sadie looked back at him with a scowl, unsure what he was saying.
“Your name,” Gus repeated. “What is it?”
“…Sadie…” she whispered.
“Well, Sadie. I’m Gus. And this dickhead behind me is Donny.”
She turned her wary gaze to Donny, then back to Gus.
“Donny appears to have hurt his arm, possibly broken it. I’m going to need to administer first aid. Is there anywhere you can take us that’s safe?”
“…Safe…”
“Yes, like a home.”
“…Home…”
“Yes, a home. Do you have one?”
She nodded.
“Can you take us there?”
She nodded again, then turned around and sauntered with a cavewoman-esque limp across the road and toward the wooded area.
Gus turned to Donny, whose face was scrunched up in pain, clutching his wounded elbow.
“I’ll fix it up,” Gus assured him. “Just try to keep up, yeah?”
Gus followed Sadie, having to maintain a light jog in order to keep up with her, followed by Donny, who huffed from his lack of fitness.
The whole time he watched her, wondering what she was.
Human, yes.
But he had a feeling there was more to her than that.
Chapter Eleven
A sharp yet vacant illuminous glow lit the street. Street lamps were a thing of the past. Driver’s headlights, lights in the windows of nearby houses, even torches – such things were forbidden past curfew.
All that Eugene had to light the street below was the moon. Once his eyes adjusted, the vague bluish haze of a rainy night became clear and he no longer had to strain.
There was no action below. No running, no screaming. No eating.
It was peaceful. As it used to be.
No one came out at night. Whether the curfew he had proposed and seen brought into power had existed or not, it would still be an unthinkable thought to leave the safety of one’s home past dark. You would be the only target. Once an infected would find you, it would attract the next infected, then the next, then the snowball effect would continue until you were screaming beneath a horde of hundreds.
Lights were off so as not to attract the attention of the wandering dead. Occasionally, you could see the reflection of the moon in a distant pupil, someone staring out their window at what the world had become. But you never saw lights.
The infected outside meandered across the road, leaning to one side, generally the side that didn’t have any guts hanging out or limbs missing.
Just one sound. That would be all it would take. Then that wandering nomadic specimen would change from the aimless, helpless creature, to a rabid carnivorous predator.
The cloak of night would conceal them from you, but it would not conceal you from them.
Eugene returned to his desk that was situated across the room. A single candle flickered, out of reach of the prying window, waving in the subtle breeze caught by Eugene wandering by.
He shuffled through a few more papers that had arrived on his desk. He couldn’t even remember how they got there. Sifting through them made him bored. When he became the leader of one of the few still-standing countries in the world – that is, to use ‘still-standing’ in the loosest meaning of the word – he thought it would be action. Declaring war. Motivating his troops to fight.
But it was paperwork. Sheet after sheet after bloody sheet of it.
He signed off a few dotted lines, only glancing at what they were about, too tired to read them thoroughly.
He considered going to bed. Problem was, he never slept. No matter what he did, he would toss and turn. He used to read the new and latest book on his Kindle before sleeping, but alas, there were very few new great works of literature being released these days. So he leant back in his office chair, stretched his legs out, and sipped on a now cold cup of tea.
Slipping a sneaky hand into the top desk drawer, he found a pack of cigarettes. His guilty habit. Not one he would let other people see. Not because he was afraid of being judged, oh no – the world had gone to hell, humanity was far past judging someone for wanting to relieve the tension with a quick smoke. No, he wouldn’t let other people see, as then he would feel compelled to share them. The number of cigarettes in the world was depleting, and he intended to keep his secret stash to himself.
He placed the end of the cigarette in his mouth, raised a match and lit it, then closed his eyes as he breathed in the beautiful taste of inevitable death.
The smoke flew out of his pursed lips, lingered in the air, then disappeared into the shadows.
What a feeling.
He took another drag, a long one this time, enjoying the subtle nuances of what his wife used to nag him about.
That was one thing he didn’t miss. His wife.
Despicable woman.
Had a belly the size of a whale, and a laugh loud enough to match. When they had first met they had been young, and he had been foolish. She trapped him with a daughter, and he gave in to being pressured into marriage. As the years grew bigger, so did she.
Imagine, he thought. If people knew what I am thinking about that dead bitch right now…
He knew how it sounded. He didn’t care. If someone was to object to his provocations about that vile woman, he would simply answer, “You didn’t know her.”
She had teeth lightly tinged yellow, hair that curled into large messy strands of fake blond, and pearl necklaces that sat above cleavage that was only so big because it corresponded with her belt size.
And now here he was.
Free of her. Ruling the country. About to make the biggest decision that had ever been made in the history of the country.
This was beyond anything any prime minister had ever done.
; This plan. It was genius.
Nothing short of pure, unadulterated, incontrovertible, inescapable genius.
Gus Harvey was on his way to save the girl. Donny Jevon at his side, probably pissing him in the way that infuriating kid had always pissed Eugene off.
Genius.
Everything was coming to fruition.
The plan was on track.
Chapter Twelve
An unprecedented trek through the woods had left Gus anxious. He knew they had limited time and that a girl’s life hung in the balance. Whether this girl was the daughter of an important man or not, it didn’t matter – her life could still be saved.
Unlike so many others.
Unlike…
Stop it.
Stay focussed.
Keep alert.
Donny kept tripping up, struggling to battle through the apparent pain of his arm. Gus attempted to put an arm around Donny to support him, but was already struggling with a heavy sniper rifle over his back. Finding the rifle increasingly difficult to carry due to its being constantly knocked by Donny’s incessant wriggling, Gus knew that he was going to have to either lose Donny, or lose the rifle.
After momentarily entertaining the notion of dumping Donny in a hedge and persevering without him, his conscience concluded that he was going to have to lose the weapon instead.
Stupid little rat boy. I like that gun…
With a hesitant tut, Gus discarded his sniper rifle beside a tree and covered it with leaves, then supported Donny’s hysterically writhing body. Deciding that the Colt .45 attached to his belt would have to be enough, he marked the tree, in hope that he would be able to retrieve the sniper rifle upon their return. He looked around him for any other significant landmarks he could use to track back to the rifle. He noticed a burnt-out jeep and made a mental note of it.
He wished he had a watch on. He looked to the sky, where the sun had disappeared and the moon had begun to take its place. This told him it was early evening, and the cloak of night would soon be thrown over them.
This was an interruption he had not planned for.
With an irritable huff, he decided he may just have to accept this delay and deal with it the best he could. Adjust the schedule. Change his planned timings.
After all, they still had at least a day and a half.
Well, that was until the explosion. They actually had to get into the zombie-infested city first, locate her (God knows how he was going to do that), then extract her, and get far enough away from the city in time to ensure that they did not get caught in the impact that such a large bombing would inevitably bring with it.
The girl – Sadie, as she had grunted in her minimal introduction – led them to an opening that revealed a house.
Though ‘house’ was a loose term.
It was more like an abandoned, claustrophobically small cottage, set in the middle of the woods. It was the kind of place you would nip in to shelter from rain, not set up an abode. The poor excuse for roofing had various holes that allowed leaks to filter through, had a large infestation of mould and asbestos, and was being eroded by the rain at an accelerated pace.
Gus kept Donny’s good arm around him, dragging him forward as he followed Sadie inside. Donny’s moaning was a continual, non-stop murmur. Gus understood how horrible it would be to break an arm, if that was what had actually happened – hell, he’d broken seven – but the idiot needed to man up. Back in Afghanistan, his comrades would continue a gun battle with the Taliban with various broken ailments and blood dripping over their eyes. They wouldn’t have the luxury of stopping and moaning over spilt milk.
Gus entered the small cottage, and the inside wasn’t much better. The smell of damp hit him first, followed by the stench of dried urine. But it had a loose roof, and the resemblance of a door – two things that would keep out both the weather and the infected. And that was all they needed.
“Is this it?” he demanded of Sadie.
Sadie looked blankly back at him.
“Is this where you live?” Gus repeated, with more impatience.
Sadie nodded her head vigorously.
“… Home …” she grunted, her greasy, thick hair spilling over the front of her face.
“Okay.” Gus didn’t have time to figure out what was up with this girl. She seemed more like a feral creature than a young woman, but right now he needed to see to Donny’s arm. “Do you have a first aid kit?”
Sadie looked puzzled.
“Supplies? You know, bandages? Antiseptic? Shit like that?”
Sadie looked around herself, scowling, then turned her puzzled look back to Gus.
“Fuck’s sake. Do you have cloth?” He elongated each syllable with as much clarity as he could. “Something I can wrap him in?”
Sadie nodded. “Er… Top? … More top?”
Gus took a moment to understand what she was saying.
“Yes, a top. Clothes. That will do.”
She turned and scuttled away on all fours.
Gus turned his attention to Donny and ran his hands over the twisted bones. He was pretty sure he could put the bone back into place, but it was going to hurt.
“Right, Donny, you need to grow a set of balls for this.”
Donny interrupted his incessant moaning to turn a look of terror toward Gus.
“I’m going to put it back into place.”
Donny pulled his arm out of Gus’s reach. “No, no, no…”
“It’s the only way. What, you think we can call an ambulance? For Christ’s sake, man.”
Donny closed his eyes, winced, and hesitantly presented his arm.
Gus grabbed Donny’s top and stuffed it into Donny’s mouth, giving him something to bite onto.
“One,” Gus began.
Donny closed his eyes.
“Two.”
Donny prepared himself.
Gus shoved the arm back into place, causing Donny to scream out. Gus immediately shoved a hand over Donny’s mouth, looking through the stained window to see if the screaming had attracted any undead.
“Shut up!” Gus urged him.
“I thought you were going to do it on three!” Donny whimpered.
“Yeah,” Gus acknowledged. Being honest, he only did it on two because he thought it would be hilarious.
He was right.
Sadie appeared over his shoulder, presenting a handful of vests toward him, an expression like a dog that had just brought her master their slippers.
“Cheers.”
Gus took a vest and ripped it until it was one clean sheet of cloth. He expertly fashioned a bandage out of it and tied it around Donny’s arm and over his shoulder.
“It hurts,” Donny whined.
“That’s ’cause you dislocated it, you moron,” Gus told him. “It’s going to hurt, but it’ll be fine. You’re in battle now, you’re going to have to deal.”
Gus turned to Sadie, finally getting a chance to look her up and down. Her clothes were stained with old mud, her face grubby, her body uncomfortably thin. Even her elbows were pointed, like her bones were sticking out.
How long could she have been on her own to end up like this?
“So what’s your deal?” Gus inquired.
Sadie looked back, confused.
“Jesus Christ, do you understand anything? Who are you?”
“… Sadie.”
“Yes, I get that your name is Sadie. But who are you?”
She remained silent, her face expressionless.
“How did you get here?”
Nothing.
Gus looked around the cottage, searching for family photos or something that would indicate a life. A family. Friends. Anything. There was nothing.
Then Gus saw something. A glint. Reflection of the moon in a reflective surface. He picked up a small scrap from the windowsill and looked at it.
It was a picture of three girls with their arms around each other, smiles adorning their pretty faces. The middle one looked like Sadie, exc
ept… healthier. With straight teeth, combed hair, a pretty dress gliding over perfect curves. She looked like a normal young woman, having a good time with friends, possibly sisters.
Sadie snatched the picture from his hand and protected it with her body, turning it away from him and stroking it. She stuffed it in her back pocket and stared at Gus, her expression wild and untamed.
“Where did you come from?”
She scratched her armpit, then sniffed it.
“Jesus…”
Sadie noticed Donny running a hand gently over his arm. In a sudden burst of energy, she dove forward to see what he was looking at and grabbed his wounded bone in both her hands, digging her dirty, long, sharp nails in.
Donny wailed in pain.
Sadie jumped back, surprised, and readied herself for a fight. Gus put a hand out to calm her.
Donny continued to scream. When Gus realised he wasn’t going to stop, he quickly swung his large hand forward and covered his mouth.
He heard a groan.
Keeping his hand fixed firmly over Donny’s mouth, he peered out of the window.
A flicker of movement passed.
Donny began moaning against Gus’s hand.
“Shut the fuck up!” Gus demanded in a hushed voice. “Shut the fuck up, you’re going to attract the infected!”
Donny fell silent.
Gus ripped his hand away and ran to the window, looking out.
One approached.
Then another.
Then another.
Within a minute, a mass of them had descended upon the exterior of the house.
Gus rushed to the window on the other side.
More were there.
So many of them. Rows of them. Covering the entire radius of the filthy, broken-down cottage.
Their hands bashed against the windows. Those fragile, old windows. Multiple hands, with all the strength they had. It wasn’t going to take long.
Gus looked to Donny.
Gus looked to Sadie.
He had one gun on him. Nothing else.
