Resistance (Book 1): Juvenile

by Perrin Briar

  Their eyes were milky, cloudy and white, relying on their ears to pinpoint the location of those approaching. They hissed, but did not leave the guaranteed meal before them.

  “Maybe we should find another way-” Hugo said.

  “Sh,” Dana said.

  The undead groaned louder, distracted by the noise. Clearly, conversation was a starting bell. But the exit was just beyond these undead. To find another way out—if they could find one—was going to take time and put them at extra risk.

  Dana pressed herself against the wall farthest from the undead and slid along it, moving her feet to avoid the fragments of glass, like diamonds, strewn across the floor.

  The undead growled as they passed, lowering themselves over their meal, hissing, protecting it from these new aggressors. One even got to her feet, standing and taking on an aggressive pose.

  Hugo froze. Dana kept moving. After a moment, when Hugo could see the undead weren’t about to attack anytime soon, he followed suit. The farther from the undead they got, the calmer the undead became, until finally they returned to their meal. They hissed and fought amongst each other.

  Another pair of undead stood sentry on either side of the entrance. It almost looked intentional, but Dana knew better. Neither stirred much as Hugo and Dana passed them. Their faces were bloodied, dark splatters up the front of their T-shirts. Presumably they had already eaten enough and no longer needed to sate their hunger.

  The learning curve was sharp, but priceless.

  Dana eyed the discarded guns around the soldiers’ fallen corpses. She bent down and picked one up. It was big, large and powerful. It made Dana feel safer already, though it was a misplaced sense of security as the mutilated bodies at her feet could attest.

  The undead saw her, but didn’t seem to link the potential threat Dana posed. The bag with extra ammo and grenades sat too close to the undead’s feet for Dana’s liking, so she ignored it. There would be more. Many more, unless she’d missed her guess.

  “Don’t run,” Hugo said. “They’ll chase us.”

  “No shit,” Dana said.

  Hugo carried his own gun like it was an alien artefact, face curled up in distaste.

  “I’ve tried to avoid these things my whole life and now here I am, armed, locked and loaded,” Hugo said.

  He sounded disappointed with himself.

  “Yeah, well,” Dana said. “I’m sure we’ll all have to do things in the next few weeks that we haven’t done before.”

  Dana stepped through the entrance doors. They’d been near eviscerated by the deluge of ammo that had been fired upon them. Dana stepped outside, into their brave new world.

  Dana’s breath hitched in her throat. Forget having to do things they hadn’t ever done before. They would be lucky if there was anything left remaining of the world before long.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  THE BATTLEGROUND was festooned with bodies, piled three high in some places. Blood gathered, forming pools in enclosed spaces where the bodies had fallen atop one another. Flies were already buzzing around the fetid stench pools. The circle of life was in full swing, and it wasn’t pretty.

  The world was coming to an end, Hugo had said. The end of everything as they knew it. Looking at the destruction before her now, Dana believed it. Nothing like a massacre on a grand scale to put you in your place.

  Undead fed on the fallen soldiers. They didn’t seem to realize there was so much food around them. They could have eaten buffet-style, consuming only the most delicious parts if they wished, but instead they fought over each body that was already being fed upon. There was no telling some people.

  Dana bent down and picked up a bag of ammunition. She slung it over her shoulder. Hugo did the same.

  “I’ve been thinking…” Hugo said.

  Dana rolled her eyes.

  “Of all the things to be doing in this new world of ours, thinking is not high on the list of priorities,” Dana said.

  “We’re not zombies,” Hugo said.

  “Well spotted,” Dana said. “Did you have to ruminate on that one a long time?”

  “I mean, we’re not humans either,” Hugo said. “So where does that leave us?”

  “Between a rock and a hard place,” Dana said. “Do you think you can try to keep the philosophical debates to a minimum while we’re trying to survive, please?”

  “Sure,” Hugo said. “But it is an interesting debate. We’ll be food for the infected and shooting fodder for the soldiers. Trapped between the two. Meanwhile, we might contain the secret that might make a cure possible. Funny, isn’t it?”

  “Hilarious,” Dana said drily. “Even funnier when we’re dead, or undead, and dying. We’ll become what everything does when people don’t understand it. Feared. Hated. Hunted. We’ll be outcasts on both sides.”

  “Cheerful thought,” Hugo said.

  “You brought it up,” Dana said.

  “That’ll teach me to keep my trap shut,” Hugo said.

  But it turned out that lesson was too difficult for Hugo.

  “The paradigm for surviving has shifted,” he said. “Or, rather, gone back in time. It’ll revert back to the way it used to be. The ones who’ll survive now are the ones who know how to purify water, hunt, farm, defend themselves.

  “Or provide an important service, like being a doctor. Solar panel engineers. Renewable energy experts. Ironically enough, the ones least likely to survive in the world like this one, without a system. They will be dependent on the society just as much as they will be on them.

  “What we should be doing is collecting information on how to farm, while we can. I can’t believe the internet is going to last much longer, not without electricity to access it. And the book shops will be harvested for kindle come winter…”

  Dana was only half listening. She was focusing on the signposts and checking each car they came to. Many were damaged beyond use, courtesy of the military defense.

  Rat-a-tat-tat.

  The stuttered spitting of distant gunfire, just over the ridge of the car park. Figures cast in silhouette by the morning sun rose like a wave.

  Sprays of blood dispersed from an undead’s head not a dozen yards from Dana and Hugo’s position. Others fell alongside it as more of the armed soldiers rose over the horizon.

  “We need to go,” Dana said. “The soldiers are coming this way.”

  “How can you tell?” Hugo said.

  “Because that’s our luck,” Dana said.

  She turned out to be right.

  The undead hissed, growling under their breath. It was time for round two.

  The zombie horde formed up faster than Dana could believe. They seemed to come from nowhere. Then, as if awoken by an alarm, the fallen soldiers began to rise, their movements a little more fluid than those who had been dead for hours. They joined the ranks of those they had, until just a few minutes ago, been fighting tooth and nail against.

  The soldiers pushed against the zombie horde, forcing them back. Their tactic was obvious to Dana’s eyes. They intended to push the infected against the main detention center building. There was a shoot-on-sight policy now for the infected. No more attempting to corral them into safe zones. No more shepherding. No more half-measures. It was kill or be killed, and they had made their position clear.

  If the soldiers had been hoping for an easy battle, they were to be sorely disappointed. The infected did not back down, and kept coming. Their tactics had not changed. It was fast, direct and not burdened by complication. They took heavy casualties, but the moment they reached their enemy’s frontlines, they tore them to shreds.

  Some of the infected close to Dana and Hugo growled at them. They clearly didn’t attribute the loud noises to the guns they carried, but they did notice there was something different about them to the other undead.

  “What do we do?” Hugo said.

  “Don’t do anything,” Dana said.

  “But they’re getting closer,” Hugo said.

&nb
sp; “We can’t shoot them,” Dana said. “The sound will attract even more of them.”

  “But the army is firing too,” Hugo said. “The undead will be attracted to them more than us—they’re making a lot more noise than we can.”

  “The undead don’t know that,” Dana said. “All they hear are loud noises. They’ll attack anything that attracts them.”

  “So what do you want to do with the ones coming at us now?” Hugo said. “Dance with them?”

  “We ignore them,” Dana said. “Work our way around them. Let the army deal with them, if they’re so determined to die.”

  The infected seemed indecisive, turning to face Dana and Hugo, who were quickly advancing, but silent, and then faced the gunshots in the middle distance. Their anger seemed to dissipate as Dana and Hugo entered their group. Perhaps the scent of the others covered their own humanity.

  The undead growled and limped toward the battle. They grew in number, thicker and faster, until a crowd flowed across the battleground in the direction of the fighting soldiers.

  Dana and Hugo were surrounded on all sides. Dana turned her face to one side, taking a deep gulp of oxygen, grimacing against the stench of rotting flesh and gaping festering wounds.

  Dana and Hugo kept shuffling forward, gently pushing their way through. An undead bared its teeth, preparing to bite. If a single fresh drop of Dana’s blood was spilt she knew it would be like dropping a leg of lamb into a river of starving piranhas.

  Dana unsheathed a knife and raised it slowly, up toward the undead. The closest was missing its face, its flesh hanging in lumps. It was getting too close for comfort.

  Dana was terrified, her hands—her whole body—shook uncontrollably. But she remained firm. She would slice the undead open ear to ear if necessary.

  She was only distantly aware that this creature, despite appearances, was still a living thing. A human. Undead or no. She didn’t have the right to take its life. But if she didn’t it would take hers, and indirectly, Max’s.

  Max.

  The thought of her alone was enough to push the fear aside. Max hardened her in a way nothing else could. She doubted this would be the only time she would have to do something like this.

  Taking Darren’s life was different. It had largely been accidental. This was deliberate, and she knew what she was planning. Taking someone else’s life.

  She raised the knife, up under the infected’s jaw, and felt the soft flesh on the underside of its chin. She shut her eyes and let herself push the knife up.

  The knife sliced through something soft. Something dribbled over her hand. It was cold and thick, sticky, like treacle. But she refused to look at it. If she couldn’t see it, it wasn’t real.

  The infected dropped to the ground at her feet. The other infected watched, staring, but didn’t react, and only filled the dead infected’s space, pushing closer. Dana couldn’t stab them all.

  Hugo whimpered, and the infected peered closer at his throat where the sound had emitted from.

  Bang, bang, bang, bang!

  Gunfire. Very close.

  Dana daren’t turn around to see just how close. It didn’t matter.

  The infected turned, distracted by the sound. They ran after it. They peeled away one by one, and ran like a vast river past Dana and Hugo. The smells were disgusting, the sounds horrifying, but the relief, that was delicious.

  Soon they were all gone. Dana and Hugo staggered back, using a car to support themselves. They were both slick with sweat.

  “Can I just say,” Hugo said. “I never ever want to do that again.”

  “No?” Dana said. “I quite enjoyed it.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Hugo said.

  They rounded the detention center, having no desire to enter the main center again. They came to a row of local shops catering to the former locals in the area. Cheap food for cheap people. Dana had eaten there often.

  Another gunfight erupted four or five blocks away. They couldn’t see it, but they could hear it taking place. Dana and Hugo turned down another quiet alley.

  “This way,” Dana said. “Quick.”

  The a-rhythmic swaying of their heavy ammunition bags made running difficult, but they didn’t stop. The gunfire was quieter here, muffled by distance. They turned another corner and came to a stop. Dana and Hugo caught their breath.

  “I’m gasping,” Hugo said.

  His eyes widened at something over Dana’s shoulder. He pointed a chubby finger.

  Dana spun around, raising the bloodied knife she didn’t realize was still in her hand. A figure, eyes gaunt and skin pale as freshly shorn paper, stared at her. The figure did not look healthy, like she should have been on the autopsy table.

  It took Dana a moment to realize it was her own reflection.

  She reached up and touched her pallid skin. It felt cold and moist. It was like she had added too much moisturizer to her face. She never did that. Personal grooming was an alien concept to Dana.

  Hugo poked at his own face with the same trepidation, disbelieving it was really him. Dana didn’t think he looked all that different. After he exercised he always grew pale with a thin layer of sweat.

  “What’s happening to us?” Hugo said. “We’re turning into them, aren’t we?”

  “Looks like it,” Dana said.

  Her voice was dead. It wasn’t due to her morphology, but her mood. The undead hadn’t attacked her. It was an advantage, but no strength came without costs. She didn’t like to think what that meant for her future.

  She had a time limit. How long, she had no idea. But her goal would not change. She would find Max, no matter how long it took.

  Dana lowered her knife and pushed the shop door open. The bell chimed. Damn thing.

  What would end up costing her her life was making a stupid mistake like that, something she didn’t even think about because she still wasn’t used to the new world yet. Hugo would be even worse than she was.

  They froze and peered around at the shop’s innards. There were no groans or approaching undead here. They’d gotten lucky. For once.

  The lights were on and seemed very bright. Dilated pupils. Of course they were bright.

  Dana found a pair of sunglasses and put them on. She handed another pair to Hugo. They picked up a couple bottles of water and stuffed them into their spare ammunition bags.

  Dana refused to substitute any of the weaponry. It might have been a stupid mistake, but she didn’t care. These weapons were all the defense she had against a world full of the undead.

  “Let’s go,” Dana said.

  She climbed onto a shelf and removed the doorbell from its little hook. She set it aside and then opened the door. Little by little, day by day, she would develop the skills she needed to learn to survive and keep Max safe.

  Please Max, be safe.

  Next, Hugo entered a bookstore. He grabbed a bag from the counter and ran down the aisles, checking the section headings.

  “Hurry up!” Dana shouted.

  The book bag was too heavy. Hugo deliberated for a moment, and chose to leave the grenades behind.

  “What about the weapons?” Dana said.

  “These books are gold,” Hugo said. “Worth more than any weapon. Except for a cure. Maybe.”

  “Worried about filling your free time?” Dana said.

  “Education,” Hugo said. “It’s what’ll separate the survivors from the dead.”

  He pulled the bag open, revealing titles from the home and electronics sections: How To Set Up Your Own Home Solar Power System, How To Filter Water With Household Items, and a myriad of others.

  Dana frowned at him. The loss of grenades, for this?

  Gunshots. Just outside the bookstore.

  A madman stood with a gun, the muzzle of his pistol flashing with light. A swarm of angry infected descended upon him, engulfing him like flames. The infected grabbed his body, pulling and wrenching, tearing it apart. A stream of blood sprayed against the shop window, and then
-

  Smash!

  The window broke and the infected fell through it, onto the floor, their prize gripped tightly in their clawed hands. The infected looked up.

  “Do you think we should we run this time?” Hugo said.

  The look on the zombies’ faces was entirely different from those they’d met earlier. These had a manic caste, eyes wide and shot. Blood oozed from their lips.

  “Yes!” Dana shouted. “Run! Definitely run!”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  THEY RAN through the shop, out the backdoor and into the alley. Dana turned to the door, but there was no lock on it from the outside.

  “Shit!” she said.

  They took off down the street. The shop’s backdoor banged open, hailing the approach of the marauding infected. They had a sizeable lead, and the undead were not fast creatures, their limbs preventing them from attaining any real acceleration.

  Uhhhhhhhhhh.

  Ahead, more undead filtered into the streets, blocking their escape. Dana and Hugo skidded to a stop, legs juddering with the effort. They turned and ran back the way they’d come. Toward the infected spilling out of the shop.

  “We’re trapped!” Hugo said.

  Dana decided to conserve oxygen, otherwise she would have expounded a string of expletives at him.

  “Down here!” Dana said.

  The alley was the only option they had. It ran between two shops and was relatively short. For the use of delivery vans. The undead spilled over the lip of the alley toward them.

  “We’ll have to shoot our way out,” Hugo said.

  He cocked his rifle with an intimate knowledge and dexterity Dana did not expect him to possess. If she hadn’t been so surprised, perhaps she wouldn’t have been so slow in reacting.

  Hugo raised his rifle.

  “No!” Dana screamed.

  But it was covered by the retort of the gun as it emptied itself into the braincases of unfortunate infected, causing them to explode like tossed water balloons.

  We’re doomed.