I stuck my gun out, then my head. I heard nothing. I craned my neck, still nothing. Assuming it safe, I hopped out the back of the truck to scan the area. Not seeing anything, I yelled, “clear,” and my crew joined me. The others stayed put while we canvassed the area.
We were alongside a small stream. Dushell and I went toward the water while Jones and Donovan took positions on the road. We completed our scans and found nothing.
“All clear,” shouted Jones.
With that, those in the back came out and looked around. I was concentrating on the front door of our truck and watched the passenger door open. An older woman stepped down wearing a white nurse’s uniform. Behind her was my brother, Simon. I wanted to run to him, but couldn’t.
When I first joined the army, I got into major trouble over Simon. Every time I saw him, I would stop what I was doing and run to him. Many times, like now, I was on guard duty. I would desert my post, as they called it, just to go and give him a hug.
Why they couldn’t understand it, was beyond me. He was all I had left out of an extralarge family. I needed him. The army, being the army, beat it out of me. Not all the way, but damn near. Once, I got the standard treatment of marching in place in full gear while a water-hosed sadist sprayed me all night long. That didn’t break me. Two days later I did it again. That time, I found myself in the stockades, next to a bitten woman in transition.
I learned my lesson. I haven’t deserted my post since. I smiled and gave Simon a wink as he held the nurse’s hand. My gun stayed high. I didn’t move other than that. He was only twelve, but he understood. Before he would have run to me, but now he only smiled and kept his distance. We would talk later once everything settled down.
My anxiety rose by what I saw next, his doctor, Doctor Blake. I didn’t like the man the first time I met him. It wasn’t because he was black, I’m not prejudice. The way he hung around my little brother, the way he petted him, the way he got Simon to trust him so easily, it bothers me.
We have only been here a couple of months. I went straight to the army and Simon went into general population. I saw him a month later, and by then, he was attached to this man. It made my blood boil. I was his family; he should only be attached to me, not some random stranger.
“Baker,” roared Private Jones. “Take the west perimeter, Dushell, take the east.”
“Yes, sir,” said Dushell. She left immediately.
I waited, he came toward me. “Yes, sir.” I said, but stayed put. When he was next to me, I spoke softly. “Why are we stopping here, sir?”
“Breakfast. You will keep guard while the civilians bathed in the stream, then they will sit down to breakfast. You will rotate out after they have finished. Is that good with you, Private?” he winked.
I saluted. “Very good, sir.”
I took my post by a tree and watched the bathers. They needed it, zombie blood covered them. They hadn’t fought. I imagine it was from running and falling over the bodies. I watched the civilians and some soldiers strip to their underwear and wash as best they could. Embarrassment flowed across me, I could barely shower with another girl.
They finished their bath and ate. My stomach growled looking at all the tin cans. Being so far away from camp, they looked tasty. I always found them slightly repulsive. I had a fear of botulism. It was tough getting over it, but I won the battle. Now, anything in a can- even chopped zombie- I looked at with newfound appreciation. I couldn’t wait until it was our turn to eat.
Dushell and I were rotated out two hours later. We grabbed our packs from the truck and moved out. I had to use the bathroom, but held it. Experience had taught me well. Being the only girls in our squad, Dushell and I stuck together. Zombies were the biggest threat, but it was still a man’s world and we were women. Actually, she was a woman, twenty and gorgeous. I could only dream of having her looks and body. Tall, with long flowing blond hair that went past her shoulders, she was something.
Me, I was plain Jane in her shadow. I pumped myself up by saying that if surrounded, whether by men or zombies, she would be the star attraction. While they chumped on her, I could get away. It was wrong to think it, but I could be petty when necessary. That, and a warped sense of humor, were my weapons.
Dushell and I ate our vienna sausages while walking to the stream. We went around the side, away from everyone. With the world destroyed, we were still modest. I couldn’t blame her, if the guys got a good look; she would have to fight them and zombies. I guess through osmosis, her fear transferred to me. We were in this together. We found a spot to take off our uniforms and set them on the shore. I gazed at the metal pipe sticking out of her backpack. I smiled.
We entered the water in our underwear and swam out to where we could barely stand, only our heads shown. Our ritual was to wave, so we did. The distant guard waved back, then turned his back to patrol the area. We had no soap, so we washed as best we could to get the blood off us. We would do our clothes next and change into our only other pair of clothing. For combat, we only take the essentials. That meant one change of clothes, ammo, food and water.
Dushell directed me to shallower water. She followed swiftly. The beautiful bombshell made a face, I stepped back from her. “Oh gross!”
She laughed. “Stop being stupid, it’s natural.”
“You could have warned me.”
Her panties were in her hand, I could see them in the water. With her other hand, she cleaned herself after a bowel movement. I could have looked around for it, but I chose not to. The world was a gross enough place.
“Stop playing and hurry it up,” Dushell said. “Do it now, while no one can see.”
I looked around to make sure no one was looking. I squatted a little and I peed. She looked as if disgusted with me, but I didn’t care. There was no need to remove my underwear if that’s all I had to do. Giving in to her look, I relented. I reached down and took them off to shake them out better. I would need to wash them anyway.
In the distance, we heard a scream. Then we saw it at the same time. Our guard was in the death grip of a zombie way off behind a big tree. He didn’t have time to fire a shot. I can only imagine he went behind the tree to take a leak. He came out screaming with the zombie attached to his back, flailing, trying to get it off. He ran a little then fell. The zombie howled before biting into his back.
Suddenly, zombies swarmed our camp. Shots rang out from every direction. Dushell and I fell, trying to run and put on our underwear at the same time. We stopped and got it right before racing for the shoreline.
Without further thought to our state of dress, we grabbed our guns and slung our packs over our shoulders. We went running around the bend looking for zombies. Dushell stopped, aimed, and fired, killing a zombie. She turned to the next and I opened fire on her right. We backed up, back to back, and fired at anything in front of us. She took out six and I downed three.
“Get dressed,” she yelled.
“Right.” I checked for more then dropped my weapon at my feet and threw on some pants and a shirt from my bag. I kept on my wet underwear, it would dry later. “Ready?”
Dushell looked around, “yeah.”
We went back around to see the full carnage. It was a bloodbath. By the shoreline, zombies made a buffet of our people. Nearly all our soldiers were down, the rest were now in hand-to-hand combat with guns and branches.
It appeared they had exhausted their ammo, their rifles served as baseball bats. “The civilians,” shouted Dushell. “Let’s get to them.”
We raced for the truck. It was the first time I had thought of my brother. “Simon! Simon!” I shouted like a mad woman. We shot the few zombies near the truck. We were in time to stop them from ripping open the door and pulling away the people in the front. Thank god. But the ones in the back were not so lucky. One zombie was inside biting a woman’s leg while another was gnawing on one of the scientist. Three civilians hit them with whatever they could, but they had no impact at all. We ran to help.
&nb
sp; When I shot the zombie on the woman, it had made it to the soft flesh of her belly. Green blood splattered all over her. Without checking if she was conscious, I shot her in the head. Dushell got the other one. Like me, she showed no mercy. The man was awake and holding his half-chewed arm and dragging himself to the front, screaming he was okay. Dushell aimed and fired.
“Have any of you been bitten?” she yelled at the terrified people. “Did they bite any of you?”
Six people were left. They screamed, “No!” as many times as they could while she aimed her rifle at them.
“Dushell.” I said, touching her on her shoulder. “They’re okay. It’s okay.”
“Dushell, Baker!” We turned to see Private Jones calling us. “More of them are coming from over there.” He had his weapon on his shoulder and he looked a mess. His dried zombie blood from last night had a new coat over it. “We have to hold them off. They got the driver. Donovan is now the new driver and will take them to safety. We will stay and lay down fire while they escape.”
“What? Are you crazy?” shouted Dushell.
“We are not going with them?” the words tumbled out of me. I couldn’t believe it.
“Dushell, you ride shotgun, Baker and I got the back.”
Dushell and I exchanged glances. We were going, thank god. For a minute, I thought we might be sacrifices.
“Go, go, go, go, go,” shouted Jones. The truck fired up.
Dushell tilted her head to me, I took off. I ran to the passenger side with my pack and rifle. I hopped on the metal deck to ride on the truck’s side, gripping the outside mirror for support. I looked inside to confirm Simon was there and he was okay. Doctor Blake was out. Simon was holding his hand to comfort him. My blood boiled at the sight.
“What happened to him? Was he bitten?”
“No. He’s just out,” said Donovan. “He hit his head hopping in the truck. Knocked himself out, if you can believe it.”
“I believe it.”
As the truck took off, I only had time to smile at Simon before firing at my first zombie. It stood in the road, blocking our progress. My bullet rifled through its head and it fell. I felt the bump as we drove over it. Morbid curiosity made me look back to see its smashed carcass. I hadn’t planned for seeing bodies thrown from the back of the truck, but I guess there was no choice. We end up doing a lot of things we never thought we would do. I wondered if those bodies were spouses of those who tossed them out.
Suddenly, I thought of what I had done and immediately found my brother’s eyes. He stared at me after the kill. I felt sick inside and wanted to vomit. He was not meant to see things like that. No one his age was meant to see something that horrific. What could I say to make it better? I looked into his brown eyes with longing. Longing for the good old days when we got on each other’s nerves and wished we were an only child. Those days are long gone and are never coming back. I could do nothing. It was best not to say anything, or at least that’s what I thought. I kept quiet and tore my eyes from his. I looked ahead, wishing we were anywhere but here.
I took my eyes off the road after a while to look down. I was feeling guilty about the shooting. Even guiltier as I realized we just lost our soldiers and most of our civilians while I was doing of all things, taking a piss in the river. Holding on to my underwear and my modesty as if I was a Prima Dona. How could I be so . . . the truck slowed.
I looked in the cab first. Donovan was driving and looked mortified. I looked out to what he saw and it genuinely shocked me. As many as ten children lined the road, all zombies. That must have been it. I could see why he stopped. He couldn’t run them down, they were helpless children. Sure, they had turned to zombies, but they looked like harmless children we swore to protect.
Shots rang out from the back. I looked back and saw them. They weren’t screaming, or were they? All I know is that zombies charged toward us and Dushell and Jones were in the back, firing. “Run them down,” I shouted.
“I can’t, they’re kids.” His hands were shaking so bad I knew he couldn’t do it. I acted for him. I turned and fired. My hand never released from the trigger. They fell.
“Go!” I shouted.
Donovan hit the gas and we ran over them. This time I played it smart and didn’t look at Simon. There was no way to explain what I had done. I’m sure he understood, but I hated it so I know he did, too. I prayed he would one day forgive me and I turned to fire behind me.
I could hear them now. The zombies were running and screaming. My comrades fired away, so did I, but there were too many. We would run out of ammo soon.
“Oh shit!” Donovan yelled.
“What?” I looked at him and then the road. We were coming to a roadblock -a fallen tree. “Oh shit!”
“What do I do?” he shouted at me.
“Jones!” I shouted.
“Yeah,” his response, through gunfire.
“A tree is blocking the road. We have to stop to move it.”
“Go around it.”
“Go around it, Donovan.”
“I can’t. Tell him I can’t, we would tip over.” Donovan shouted at me.
“Jones, he says he will tip over. We have to stop.”
“Hurry it up. We will hold them off.”
I heard him yelling and firing like a madman. The truck stopped. “Stay in the truck, Simon. We will be right back. You hear me?”
“All right, Zee.”
“Promise me you won’t move.”
“I promise.”
Donovan was already at the tree waiting on me. I ran to him. There was no way we could lift the tree ourselves. Donovan ran back and grabbed the winch chain. “We wrap it around the tree and move the tree as little as possible. Got it?”
“Got it.” He gave me the chain and while he lifted with a makeshift lever, I wrapped it around the tree as best I could and hooked it. “Got it!”
Donovan ran back and started working the wench. I looked behind us. Jones and Dushell were out of the back of the truck. Two others had joined them. All were firing. I grabbed my gun and raced around to join them. It would be easier with five of us holding them back. We aimed for the heads, but the scientists aimed for their chests. There was no time to teach them so I kept firing, hitting what they let get up and come at us again.
The zombies dropped like flies, but there were too many. Our lives were precious, but theirs meant nothing. They kept coming.
“Got it!” yelled Donovan. “Come on!”
“Let’s go,” I shouted. We ran back to the truck. I hopped back on the side rail and we moved forward. I heard waning gunfire. I looked back. “Oh my god!” Dushell and Jones were not in the truck. They were still firing at the zombies, only they were nearly out of ammo. Oh my god! Dushell was out.
I huffed and puffed. What to do? What to do? I made my choice. “Simon, I will find you. Promise me you will stay safe. Promise me now.”
“I promise.” He must have known. Tears streamed down his small face.
“Get ‘em, Zee Zee!” Donovan shouted without looking at me.
“Don’t call me that.”
Donovan winked. “I owed you one.” He glanced at me. “Good luck, Zee.” He knew as well.
“Keep him safe.”
I grabbed my pack and jumped. If I hadn’t done it then, I never would have. I raced back, firing as I went. Dushell was already swinging her pipe. Zombies’ heads rolled as she screamed and hit. I shot a zombie trying to sneak behind her.
“Whoa, thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
I was beside her. Jones and I were firing. Dushell swung her pipe while a middle-aged man in a far corner swung his empty rifle. I saw another man dragged into the trees and fired on those zombies.
“No time,” said Jones. “Run!”
We followed him and ran. At first we ran down the road after the truck. When it was out of sight, we took off into the trees. We ran until we could no longer hear them or see them. When we stopped to catch our breath, I
thought about the ride we left. There was no way we could catch that truck. I prayed for their safe trip to the camp. We would fend for ourselves. I knew in my heart I would see Simon again.
Chapter 3
Had I done the right thing in leaving my brother and the safety of the truck? I questioned that decision. Was it a choice of whom I liked better? That I can’t believe. These people are my friends, my new family, but my brother, he is my world.
Stop it, girl.
I needed to psych myself up to face what was in front of me. We were in zombie-infected territory. At the moment, we were in the woods, alone. How long that would last, who knows?
“All right, guys,” said Jones. “Listen up. We are alone out here. It’s us against them and they don’t stop, not for anything. Dushell is out of ammo and I got a couple rounds left. How about you Thompson, what you got?”
The stranger spoke, “I’m out. I killed the last zombie by stabbing him in the heart with the butt of my gun.” He held up his rifle and slime oozed off it. Its yellow-green tint was sickening to see. The man grinned.
“Baker, how about you?”
I pulled my clip and counted. “I got half a clip left.” I slapped it back in. Each bullet had to count.
“Well,” said Jones, “I guess that’s it. From now on, only head shots. We blow their brains out to be sure. If you don’t have bullets then swing for the fences, head shots only people. I have seen too many people go down because they fought these creatures as if they were men. They are not. Flesh wounds mean nothing, people. Aim for the head.”
“What happens when we are all out?” I asked.
“We go for the heads, twist them and snap their necks.”
“What about them touching us?” Dushell asked.
“Touching is not the problem,” said Thompson, “it’s biting without killing we have to worry about.”
Zombie Zora Page 2
