by Steve Wands
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
“We can’t leave that.”
“I’m not opening the door. I can’t look again.”
“We don’t have a gun, Ed, and I can’t go in there.”
“Let’s set the car on fire.”
“Got a rag?”
“Yeah, I have a spare shirt.”
“Joe. Get everyone away. Get a few cars down.”
“You got it. Everything cool?”
“Far from it. We’re going to take care of it, but don’t come over here—trust me. Gonna set the car on fire.”
“You think that’s a good idea?”
“No. But if you saw this, I think you’d agree that we can’t leave it alone.”
“Fair enough dude.”
With that Joseph and Scott led the way. Avoiding the car and getting the others further down the bridge.
Eddie tore a strip of cloth from a spare shirt in his backpack. Frankie pulled out a lighter and a small can of lighter fluid, which had come in very handy since the world nearly came to a screeching halt.
Frankie soaked the cloth with the lighter fluid and jimmied open the gas door with the pry-bar. Once the gas cap was off Frankie shoved in the cloth and forced it down with his finger till there was only a small strip hanging out.
“Let me do it,” Eddie offered, “you’re hands are soaked in that shit.”
“Go right ahead.” Frankie tossed him the lighter.
Eddie snatched it out of the air. Frankie and Joseph walked away towards the rest of the group.
Thump.
Eddie flicked the lighter. The rag lit with ease and the flame crawled inside the gas tank. Eddie ran away expecting the car to explode behind him, but it didn’t.
The group watched in anticipation—moments passed and the car still didn’t explode. Flames grew from underneath the vehicle, and it was smoking, but far from what they had expected.
“Why isn’t it blowing up?”
“I’m thinking when it happened to Gerty that it was a fluke. Everyone always says only cars blow up on TV.”
“Yeah, but shouldn’t it be a bigger fire though?”
“It’s building, you can see that.”
“Yeah, man, it’s doing the trick. The whole thing will burn out soon enough.”
“Fuck it, let’s get out of here.”
“The quicker the better. The bigger that fire gets the more things will be drawn to it.”
40 A FAMILIAR ODOR
(back to top)
The night continued to grow cool, allowing it’s darkness to seem all the more sinister and it’s shadows all the more deeper. Though they had nearly made it to the end of the bridge the light from the car fire burned bright.
Chris had fallen asleep on Abdul’s shoulders. He slid one way and then the other as Abdul continued to walk. His back and neck ached furiously. His legs burned and his arms kept falling asleep. He wanted to drop to the ground and just give up, but he pushed on.
The abandoned vehicles on the bridge continued to tell a story. Cars were smashed into the sides. Trucks were left rammed into the back of other vehicles. Windows were smashed in, windshields kicked out, doors left ajar. Police cars were stuck in between lanes, unable to weave through traffic. A bus in the distance lay on its side.
Frankie climbed on top of a car. Standing on the roof of the sedan he peered forward into the dark distance.
“Anything?”
“Don’t see shit.”
“How much further?”
“Almost there. Maybe another ten minutes. Twenty tops.”
Frankie jumped down and they continued to move down the tight twisting lanes of wreckage.
As they passed the bus, Chung-Hee could hear a scratching noise.
“Guys?”
Chuck turned, hearing it too, followed by excited grunts. Several deaders clawed their way out of the bus, knocking aside one of it’s emergency exit windows.
“Oh, fuck. Guys!”
The group halted. Frankie and Eddie jumped on top of a car to see past everyone and to make eye contact with Chung-Hee.
“What is it?”
“Don’t stop, keep moving,” Chung-Hee pleaded, “We got company.”
“Joe, lead everyone down the bridge quick.”
Joseph didn’t want to lead the group away from the action, he wanted to stay and fight alongside his brother. Had his mother not been among the group he would’ve sent them on their way alone and stayed by his brother’s side. Instead he simply nodded and kept moving.
Scott stood aside, “Eddie, we can just out walk them. There’s no need to stay back and take them down.”
“We’re not going to take them down. You’re right. But we’re still going to make sure everyone gets some distance, and that those fuckers aren’t right on our asses.”
“Okay man, just be careful.”
Scott caught up with Judy and Frankie, Eddie, Chung-Hee and Chuck hung back to deal with the deaders.
“You got any of that shirt left?”
“Yeah, what do you got in mind?”
“I say we start some more car fires.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Eddie dug through his bag and dug out the shredded shirt. He ripped into two pieces and tossed one to Frankie.
Chung-Hee opened a nearby car to check the gas gauge. The tank was more than halfway full.
“This one looks good.”
“Pop the tank.”
“Guys, they’re getting closer.”
“Moving pretty quick for deaders.”
“Yeah, they must be hungry.”
Chung-Hee popped the gas tank as Frankie doused the rag in lighter fluid. After he was done shoving it in Eddie lit the rag. They moved back a few more cars and did the same thing. Both cars were slow to burn but the time the deaders neared them they had flames licking up from underneath the chassis and from out of the open doors and cracked windows.
“That oughtta slow ‘em down.”
“Come on, let’s catch up with the others.”
They jogged over to the others. Eddie and Frankie returning to lead the pack and Chuck and Chung-Hee in the back.
“We’ll keep an eye on them,” Chuck said. “Just get us off this bridge like now.”
“We’re almost there, man.”
The deaders had no choice but to continue walking through the flames from the blazing cars. They didn’t hesitate or flinch, but as they moved slowly through the flames that lapped at them their skin singed and burned. Small blotches of skin and cloth caught fire, but as they continued forward the flames died off.
“Dude, do you…”
“Shh. Just keep fucking moving. Don’t even say it.”
“You can smell it, right?”
“Just keep moving man. Quickly.”
“Fuck dude. It reeks.”
“I know, I know.”
“I knew this was a shit idea.”
“Don’t fuckin’ start Frankie, we’re right at the end.”
Scott walked up to the three in the front. He tapped Eddie on the shoulder, “Eddie, if there’s one odor I’m familiar with--”
“Yeah, man, we smell it too.”
“You see anything up there?”
“Not yet. Just more of the same.”
After a few more steps they practically froze. At the end of the bridge were about three-dozen deaders staggering in their direction.
41 NOW OR NEVER
(back to top)
Clem was up and pacing about the cell. His movement had excited the dead, renewed their interest whether or not it ever waned. Danni was asleep. Topher was reaching for his toes. Keith was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Davis was watching the dead following Clem around the cell. They shifted depending on where he was in the cell. They didn’t seem to understand that he would come back around. It reminded him of a certain cat his niece had, always following around a red light from a laser pointer.
“What for?”
“Just do it. I want to see what these dumb zombies do. That’s it, now squeeze in, don’t be shy.”
“Yeah, they’re following us. So? Isn’t that what they’ve been doing?”
“It is, but look, they’re not trying to get in by the gate or anything, they’re following you around the room as if they had the chance of getting you. And look at the gate. They’re not even blocking it anymore. Like they have no concept of it.”
“You think we can get out somehow?”
“I don’t know yet. There’s too many to get around though, and no idea what’s out of eyesight.”
“Anything’s better than sitting in here. How much longer can we stay in here like this?”
“Maybe one of us can give it a try? We can try to get their attention while one of us runs out and gets around them, but I think once one of us is out there we won’t be able to keep their attention. Then whoever gets out will have to lure them away so the rest of us can get out.”
“I would’ve called you all crazy, but that seems like the best thing we can do. And Keith is right; we can’t last much longer in here. I’m getting real thirsty and the thirstier I get the more I keep looking at that toilet and keep thinking that maybe, just maybe I’ll be thirsty enough to drink what’s in there,” said Clem.
“Thanks for that thought, old timer, you just gave me one more reason to volunteer my ass for this crazy escape plan.”
“Maybe we should wait. If these things thin out a bit we’ll have a better chance,” Davis suggested, hoping Keith would agree and sit back down.
“Wait till when? More could show up too. There’s no reason to wait,” Keith replied.
“Fine. We’ll give it a shot, but is there some way we can take some of them down without taking the last few rounds? Anyone got a screwdriver by any chance?”
“There’s nothing in here, Bruce, let’s just get on with it while I still have the balls to do it.”
“Fine.”
They exchanged a quite moment, the hard lines in their faces softening just a touch, as they looked at each other for what they figured might just be the last time.
Davis broke away. He walked over to the cell door, reaching his hand through the bars and putting the key into the lock. The dead things grasped at his arms and hand but he was able to put the key into the lock and pull back without them getting a good hold.
“Wait till we get them good and worked up. Then, run like a motherfucking bull and tear ass out of here. Don’t look back. I’ll close the gate, you just keep going.”
“Fuck. I think I’m gonna throw up.”
“Everyone into the far corner. Get ‘em worked up. Keith, hang back with us,” Davis commanded.
They squished into the corner, yelling at the dead, getting them worked up. The dead smashed into each other, fighting to get closer to their would-be prey. The dead reached through the bars, grasping at air with stiff fingers. Their limbs were greying, covered in dried blood and bodily fluids. Their fingers had missing fingernails and shredded tips, broken fingers and some even had bones jutting from their forearms.
“Come and get it!” Davis yelled.
Clem had already lost his voice, but continued to yell anyway.
Keith looked at the dead. They had left a wide berth near the gate, but he couldn’t tell how far back they were. He could only hope they had given him enough space to get around them.
It’s now or never.
Keith ran for the door, reaching out and unlocking it in one swift movement. He flung the gate open and ran as fast and as hard as he could. The others continued to yell at the dead, in the hopes of keeping their attention, but some of them followed Keith’s movements and were almost on him as he left the cell.
Davis ran for the door as a deader shambled inside. He tried to push it out, but another came up right behind it and prevented it. Then he decided to pull the first deader inside, throwing it to the floor and closing the gate before the other was in too deep. By the time he closed the door several deaders on the other side had swarmed over to it.
By the time Keith reached the wall on the far side of the room a handful of deaders had gotten in his way. Convinced he could just push past them, he ran and charged them with his head down as if he were carrying a football. He pushed past one, then another, even a third, but by the time he hit the fourth several more had fallen back from the larger group and closed off his exit.
He took out his handgun and fired once, blowing out the brains of deader number four. This made all the deaders in the room turn towards him, instantly surrounding him. He fired again, and then again, but he was out of rounds. He turned to run back to the cell but there was nowhere to go.
He tried to charge through them but couldn’t. They swarmed him, pulling at his skin as he shrieked in pain. He fell to the ground, trying to crawl again when one bit his side, then his leg. Another grabbed his face, his neck. They pulled, scratching, scraping, tearing. The howls of pain filled the room, echoing in the holding cell.
They spun him around on his back despite how valiantly he fought. Their fingers tore open his shirt. They ripped out his eyes, bit out his throat and their rough, weathered fingers tore open the skin of his abdomen, exposing his fatty tissue and muscle fiber. They ripped through that just the same and began to eviscerate him, pulling out handfuls of intestines. Their teeth ripped through his intestines as if it were sausage. He screamed no more.
Davis was on his knees screaming through the bars but to no avail. The dead were all preoccupied with eating his friend.
Topher and Clem were struggling with the deader inside the cell. Its innards were spilling out all over them. They had no weapon in which to dispatch of the deader and Davis was not responding to their calls for help. Topher tried to push it to the ground, but he only managed to push it against the wall. His hands were growing slimy in gore.
It was too confined of an area to really knock it down, at least for Topher. Who was shorter than Clem and apparently no stronger. They could hear Keith screaming, and as horrible as it was they had to keep their attention on the deader in their midst. Clem tried to kick it in the knees but the deader only fell forward slightly. He did it again and Topher pushed it off balance but that only ended up with the deader falling over and taking Clem with it, spilling the rest of its innards all over him.
Danni screamed and ran over. Clem was on his back trying to push the deader away as it snapped its jaw at him. Clem was pushing its head up and Topher was pulling it off as Danni tried to pull Clem away but then it bit down on Clem’s palm as his grip slipped off the deaders slimy chin.
He barely felt it, but could see the blood trickle down.
Davis finally turned around and emptied the last of his rounds into the deaders head, decorating the cell wall with brains and blood.
Danni cradled Clem as he held his bleeding hand. She cried for him as he stared at his hand, looking at the bite mark that just barely broke the skin on his palm.
“Shit,” Davis said as he slumped to the ground.
“Why didn’t you help them?!” Danni screamed.
Davis had no answer. He just looked at her as she lashed out at him. He could hear the sounds of the deaders slurping on Keith’s remains. He was out of rounds for his firearm. He was out of ideas, and didn’t know what the hell he was going to do when Clem turned into one of them.
42 SUICIDE RUN
(back to top)
“Do they see us?”
“Don’t know, maybe they seen the fires.”
“What the fuck are we going to do?”
“I have an idea.”
“Which is…?”
“We’re going to have to run on top of the cars till we can get passed them.”
“That’s your fucking idea.”
“I’ll go first. That should get their attention on me. When they start
following me, get everyone off this bridge and get around them as fast as you can.”
“Wait, that’s fucking crazy.”
“Ed, just do it. We can’t go back. Just turn around and look. It’s this or nothing.”
Eddie turned around to see the smaller pack of smoldering dead shambling closer. By the time Eddie turned back around Frankie had started running toward the larger horde of deaders.
“Frankie!”
“Keep it down, Eddie,” Joseph said. “He’s right man, someone needs to draw them away so we can get out of here.”
“It didn’t have to be him.”
“Man, can’t you see it. He’s loving this shit.”
Frankie broke into a sprint. He started smacking his pry-bar on the vehicles he passed. The dead started to take notice. Once they did Frankie climbed up on top of a car and began making his way among them.
“Come and get me you dead fucks! Dinner time!”
He jumped from a car hood to the trunk of another, then into the bed of a pickup. The dead were reaching for him, gathering around him. Grunting excitedly.
“You want some of this? Come and fucking get it!”
The dead had no idea that the others were slowly moving forward as Frankie led them astray like bait on a hook.
“He’s going to get himself killed,” Judy said.
“That idiot will get us all killed!” Carrie screamed.
“Let’s get everyone out of harm’s way first. Then we’ll see if there’s anything we can do for him.”
“It’s working. They’re following him.”
Frankie smacked a deader’s hand out of the way with his pry bar as it reached for his leg. Then he jumped to another car and ran atop a few more, getting some distance from the bulk of the horde and calling out to the others that were still a distance from him.
“Come on! COME ON! Come and get it!”
He thrust the pry bar down onto one of the deader’s heads as it tried to climb onto the car. He almost lost his balance as the dead thing slumped to the ground.
