DEAD_Suffer The Children
Page 11
Now that I knew Marshawn was okay, or at least seemed to not be wounded, I looked around for the shooter. There was no sign of anybody, then I felt a hand on my shoulder. I glanced back to see Tracy; she was looking off to my right at a condo. At first, I didn’t see anything, then my eyes caught movement in an upstairs window. A dark blanket or towel had been draped in it, but the barrel of a rifle could be seen at the bottom. It was scanning back and forth, obviously the person was looking for another target.
I made a gesture for Tracy to stay put and keep Michael, Darya, Alex, and Chewie with her. Once I was certain she understood, I waved at Marshawn and pointed to where the shooter was hiding. Next, I made a gesture letting him know that I was going to try and slip around the back. If I could get to that building, then I might be able to find a way in and take this person down.
Alex stood back until I was ready to go then grabbed my shoulder and pulled me close. I couldn’t help the reaction that rippled through me as she whispered into my ear. Seriously, I could feel her warm breath and even the occasional brush of her lips on my ear as she whispered.
“I’m coming with you. I have a little something that will make this much easier.” With that, she reached into the bag slung over her shoulder and produced a bottle with cloth at the top and liquid sloshing around inside. “Molotov.”
I nodded. That was a much better idea than me trying to sneak into a building where who knew what waited inside, then having to sneak up on a person and shoot them.
I was very aware that killing people was going to be part of the way of things—at least for the foreseeable future. That didn’t mean I felt good about it or was eager to engage in that sort of thing.
We slipped down the side of the building adjacent to the one our target was in. We reached the end and I peeked around to discover a trio of undead trudging away from us. From the looks of things, they were headed for the general area of our shooter. Sure enough, they turned in and started pawing at a window of the building where our intended target resided.
I was considering just letting them do what zombies do best when I heard the sound of a window sliding open. Instantly, all three zombies lunged for the opening. I heard the telltale ‘thunk’ of a blade chopping into the skull. It took me a moment to realize that meant there was more than just one person inside. Alex was not as slow on the uptake. She drew one of the pistols she carried on her hips and pulled something from a pocket, screwing it into place at the end of the barrel.
I was still trying to figure out how to move in when she ducked, scurried up to the window, shoved the larger zombie corpse out of the way, grabbed the smallest of the three to bring up with her as cover, and then threw an arm over its shoulder before firing off two quick shots.
Just as fast, she threw herself to the ground. A heartbeat later, the loud boom that could only be a shotgun sounded and a chunk of the window frame exploded in a shower of wooden shrapnel.
I started forward when the chatter of what had to be an automatic weapon came in a staccato burst of high-velocity lead that punched out holes in the wall of the house just a few feet from where I crouched.
Instinctively I threw myself backwards and landed flat on my back…to find myself staring up at the slack, empty face of a zombie child. I was able to take it all in with the blink of my eyes.
She was about seven years old. Not only was her left eye missing, but almost that entire side of her face had been ripped away. Her mouth was smeared with very old, dried blood which told me she hadn’t bitten anybody recently. As all of that registered in my mind, I was hit by how she was just staring down at me and not attacking.
That lasted until I moved my arm and brought the machete into view. In an instant, she let out a moan and dropped on top of me. Her cold, undead hands pawed at my face as she tried to get a grip on me and take a bite of my nose. I shoved her aside easily enough, but I still winced when I heard her tiny body slam into the concrete foundation of the building we were beside.
Rolling over, I scrambled to my knees as another round of weapons’ fire came from inside the condo. More chunks of wood and siding exploded out from the wall in a line that crept towards me.
Despite my potential immunity from a zombie bite being a plus right now, I shuddered at how I’d just come terribly close to having a bite taken out of my face. Also, I was certain I wasn’t immune to bullets. Without giving it another thought, I grabbed the squirming body of the little zombie girl that was trying to get to her feet. I pulled her body to me to act as a shield for my torso. I had no idea if this was an effective tactic. But I think I’d seen it done in movies so often that it was probably a reflexive action more than anything else. Not that I would’ve ever considered using a child as a human shield; but, perhaps a part of my brain was starting to let go of the idea that these were still children.
I felt my pants leg tug as the last rounds sounded. I also felt a burning sensation on my right leg, but by now the adrenaline was dumping into my system so fast that it was giving me a nauseous feeling.
Getting to my feet, I was just about up when Alex popped up and fired off another half dozen or so rounds through the window. I had no idea if she hit anything, but I used the opportunity to make a dash for the door that would open up in to the condo.
Naturally, the door was locked. I stepped back and kicked. A nasty jolt of pain shot up my leg and I saw a dark stain around a rip in my jeans that told me I was bleeding. It wasn’t much, but all I could think of in that split-second was how screwed up it would be to get what used to be just a simple infection. That is not how I wanted to die in the zombie apocalypse. Not that dying was on my “to-do” list.
I was still sort of hopping on one foot as I processed the pain when Alex elbowed past me and kicked the door in with surprising ease. I would deal with that blow to my ego later, but at the moment, I had to follow her and give support.
The two of us were in the entry hall, and I heard the sounds of feet stomping up the stairs. Alex poked her head into what turned out to be the kitchen and then waved me forward. Spent shotgun shells and assorted brass casings littered the floor. There was also a small pool of fresh blood and a trail of droplets that led from this area and up the dark hallway. The stairs were at the end of that hallway.
“You ready for this?” Alex asked as she knelt and ran a finger through the blood on the floor.
“If I ever say yes to that question, you might want to put me down.” I checked the pistol I held and quickly swapped out the magazines since I couldn’t recall if I’d even fired the damn thing.
After giving me a peculiar look, Alex started up the hall. She reached the stairs and raised a fist in the universal signal for me to stop. I could hear my heart pounding in my skull as my mouth went dry and my vision seemed to narrow.
I swear it seemed like she moved in slow motion, but with a great deal of caution, Alex slipped around the corner and, staying in a low crouch, started up the stairs. Halfway up, she paused and produced the Molotov. She glanced over her shoulder and motioned for me to back up. I retreated to the bottom of the stairs and watched her light the cloth that dangled from the top. She didn’t toss so much as fastball the thing.
There was a crash and the ‘whump’ of flames erupting to life. I heard shouts of at least three people. A heartbeat later, the first of the attackers appeared. I cleared my mind as my arm rose with the pistol in it. I heard muffled pops as I squeezed off three shots. The man staggered back a step as my first bullet caught him in the shoulder. The second hit him pretty close to dead center in his chest—probably a direct hit to the heart. Later I would tell myself he was dead before the third round punched a hole in his throat, sending a spray of blood across the wall to the man’s left.
The second guy had the misfortune of being in the splatter zone of the Molotov. I guess he forgot about the “stop…drop…and roll” advice when you are on fire. He stumbled to the stairs and received mercy in the form of two rounds to the chest from Alex.
I didn’t even hesitate as I spun and headed back down and out the front door. I arrived to discover a man sprawled on the postage stamp-sized front lawn of the condo building. He had three crimson blooms spreading on his shirt.
“Well, that was fun.” Marshawn got to his feet from where he’d been taking cover behind the Suburban.
I was about to ask how this guy had met his ending when Tracy and Darya emerged, each of them holding hunting rifles. Both still had wisps of smoke drifting from the barrels.
“I think we should get moving,” Tracy said as the two women, Michael, and Chewie came up to us. She gave a jerk of her head over her shoulder.
I looked past her to see a few dozen figures staggering through the dense foliage that surrounded this complex. We’d once again become a bullseye for the undead due to all the noise.
I agreed, and Marshawn scooped up the keys. He opened the front door, climbed in and jammed the key into the ignition. I don’t think I was the only person holding their breath as he turned it.
There was a cough, a sputter, and then the big motor of the Suburban turned over. I know for a fact that I wasn’t the only one to erupt in a spontaneous cheer. We all poured in. Alex hopped in front with Marshawn and I opened the rear cargo door for Chewie.
In that one instance, the zombie apocalypse faded away as she bounded in with what was left of her tail wagging furiously. I’d almost forgotten how much she loved going for a ride.
7
About Alex
We had an easy start to our trip. It was almost like a normal afternoon drive during the pre-apocalypse…minus the fact that we were the only moving vehicle.
We reached Johnson Creek Road. I knew from my own trips out to McIver Park that we could cross over to Highway 224 via SE 142nd Avenue. That street was becoming a recurring theme for me. It was on the corner of 142nd and Johnson Creek that the church where I’d first encountered Don Evans existed.
We were rolling past, nobody really talking. Michael had climbed into the very back to sit with Chewie and I was just staring out the window as the scenery drifted by when I saw her.
“Stop the car,” I said.
Perhaps I just thought the words had come out of my mouth, but when we didn’t so much as slow down, I tapped the headrest on the back of the driver’s seat.
“Stop the car, Marshawn.” I was already gripping the door handle in anticipation of stopping.
“You do see all those zombies, right?” Alex looked back at me, her expression almost empty. “Why would we stop here?”
“Just stop the damn car.” It came out surprisingly calm. Thinking about it, that might be why Marshawn hit the brakes.
The Suburban jerked to a halt eliciting cries from pretty much everybody. Even Chewie barked in what was probably the doggie equivalent of “What the hell are you doing?”
I opened the door and climbed out into what was quickly becoming a warm spring day. My eyes scanned the surroundings, but most of my attention was dialed in to one zombie staggering alone along what remained of the bushes that bordered one side of the church parking lot.
I stepped up onto the sidewalk and paid almost no attention to the closest zombie that I grabbed by the shoulder and jammed my blade into the temple of before shoving it away. Twice more I had to put down an approaching zombie, but never once did my eyes really stray from my objective.
When I reached her, I stopped about five feet away. Currently, the zombie was more interested in trying to push her way through a ragged looking shrub. I looked at her, and felt my guilt try to rise up and crush what remained of my soul.
No, I thought, Don Evans made a choice to do this. Chances were, he was going to do it anyways, and likely add me to the menu.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help or protect you, Ariel,” I whispered.
It must’ve been loud enough, because she turned to face me. She had a huge stain of dried blood down her front. Her shirt was long gone, and if she’d been wearing a bra, that had also been torn away. She had bites taken out of her shoulders, and it was no surprise that her abdomen had been ripped open and the insides pulled out. My gaze locked onto some large, dark piece of viscera that dangled from the open gash. If I was forced to make a guess, I would say that was the liver. Strange, the things you focus on when you are almost too overwhelmed with emotion to think straight.
I stared into her filmed-over eyes and tried to see any of whatever had made her human…Ariel. All I saw were empty orbs with a milky, pus-like film that was shot full of black tracers. If there was anything remaining inside, it did not show up in the eyes.
“I won’t let you stay like this,” I said to her as I grabbed her shoulder and pulled her closer so that I could drive the tip of my blade into her eye socket.
I pushed the tip of the blade into her eye, turning away as it burst, sending a gooey, jelly-like substance trickling down her cheek. She collapsed the moment my blade found whatever part of the brain it is that allows for this unlikely scenario to play itself out.
I laid her down on the ground and turned to head back to the Suburban. When I climbed inside, things were surprisingly quiet. Not even Alex had a snarky comment or even so much as an eye roll.
Marshawn popped us back into gear and nudged through the handful of zombies that had managed to make it to the vehicle during my brief excursion. We rolled through the residential area where I could still make out some of the spray-painted markings from where Evans’ people had already scavenged.
We rolled past the pirate-themed monster truck that had chased me, Edmund, and Miranda. The dead bodies where still right where I’d left them, only, it was clear that some local wildlife or perhaps a pack of feral cats or dogs had gotten to them. There was a lot of damage to the softer bits of the face on the one young man I got a good look at.
“Sorta back to where we started,” Marshawn quipped as we rolled past the entrance to the neighborhood where I’d feasted on freshly grilled steaks and downed a couple of chilled beers in a time that seemed an eternity ago.
That memory made my mouth start to water and I looked inside my pack. It was with a begrudging sigh that I ripped open a pouch of jerky and bit off a piece. I had to wonder if I would ever have steaks fresh off the grill or ice cold anything ever again. My stomach weighed in with a loud rumble and I did my best to push those thoughts away.
Once we reached the highway, I was pretty confident that I knew how to get us to Milo McIver State Park while keeping to the backroads for the most part. I did seem to recall one stretch that ran through the heart of one of those duplex-riddled pop-up neighborhoods where all the homes look the same and you can almost reach inside your neighbor’s kitchen window to borrow a cup of sugar from the comfort of your own kitchen. Also, I knew of at least one mobile home park. From everything I’d seen, that was likely not someplace we would want to get caught unaware. Lots of people plus a small area equaled bad news.
We rolled up to a bit of a fork in the road. I knew we needed to veer right, but just as we slowed down and started to edge around a small, two-car wreck, the sounds of gunfire came from ahead…in the direction we needed to go.
“Big machine gun,” Alex said. “Maybe your boy?”
She turned to look back at me and for a split-second, I found myself caught up by her green-gold eyes. They weren’t really hazel. It seemed that the light had some influence over what color they were. They could look more green like they did now in the shadows, or more golden when the sunlight hit them.
“Well, Evan?” Marshawn spoke up, and I looked up to catch his gaze in the rearview mirror.
“We can go straight. It is a longer route, but we can get there that way as well.” I had to speak up over the sounds of what was now obviously a very powerful machine gun with an apparently endless supply of ammuni
tion.
“I gots no place else to be,” Marshawn chuckled as he eased us to the left and drove over the curb to put us back on the road heading uphill and away from the gunfire.
We started up the gentle slope, but it was also a wide, sweeping curve that gave us little advance warning of what lie ahead. The first surprise came almost right away when we rounded the second bend in the road.
The school bus looked to have been run off the road by an old pickup. Before the nightmares became real, lots of folks used to like to talk about what absolute badasses they would be if something like this were to happen. I don’t really know what happened here, but from the looks of it, that truck came up behind the school bus and somehow ran it off the road.
The nose of the pickup was snagged in the metal of the rear quarter of the bus. The former driver was staring out at me…sort of. His undead eyes tracked us as we went past, but he was probably trapped in that cab forever. He had a visible wound on his forehead from where it had cracked the steering wheel or something, but I had no idea how he’d turned. Maybe he’d been bitten beforehand and was trying to escape to someplace.
The bus was another story. I could see adult versions wandering about inside it. What I didn’t see were any children. That lent to the possibility for countless scenarios, none of them were pleasant to dwell on for more than just a minute.
We had to swing out into the oncoming lane, and, while there was no danger of oncoming traffic catching us by surprise, there was still a very deep ditch on that side of the road and we had to almost drop into it to get around the accident. The problem was that this was that sort of ditch that was maybe a few feet deep and really steep on the sides. If we dropped in, we would be walking.
Once we cleared that obstacle, we were on open road again for what felt like a good distance. Most of what we were driving past consisted of farmland. I knew we would eventually run out of luck, I just kept hoping it was later rather than sooner.
By the time we got close to the little town of Damascus, I’d started to breathe easier. That was pretty stupid.