Gus should have paid more attention, because the zombie lunged for him before he could get the first shell in. It grabbed him on the arm, but he managed to push it off. It stumbled to the ground, and before it rose, he slammed the shotgun’s butt against its skull with a mighty heave.
Rico heard the zombie’s head crack above the pandemonium stirring up the room. A stream of brain goo shot out and landed near his feet as the zombie collapsed motionless to the floor. Gus still didn’t have time to reload before the second zombie was up and attacking.
A rotting corpse stepped up into the front door and made a gurgling hiss. Rico turned his attention from Gus and couldn’t believe his eyes. The zombie was mangled beyond recognition. Its lower jaw was torn away, revealing a gaping grin of blood stained teeth. Its right arm reached out, ready to grab anything in front of it. Its other arm was dislocated at the left shoulder. Nearly all of the skin and muscle was pulled away from the shoulder down to the elbow. The wind blew in the warm, rank smell of decaying meat. As it entered the room, Rico saw a swarm of flies busy laying eggs in the festering skin.
Rico’s arms went slack. This was it. This was the end. In all the ways he had thought he might die, this wasn’t one of them. He used to have a fear of catching a bullet, or being stabbed by a knife in the line of duty. Now either of the two ways to go out would be a blessing compared to what was just about to happen.
He closed his eyes and begged God to let it end quickly. A lifetime of regrets flashed through his mind as his body turned cold and numb.
Someone grabbed his arms and pulled. He looked and saw Angie with a steak knife in her hand sawing away on his bonds.
“Angie, thank goodness. Hurry!” Rico blurted it out and instantly regretted it. The last thing he needed to do was attract Gus’s attention.
The zombie with the severed arm and grinning maw looked toward him. It stumbled over the fray between Marcus and the other zombie, creeping forward.
“Hurry,” Rico said, wiggling to get free.
“Hold still, or I’m going to cut you!” Angie shouted, slicing through the thick rope.
Rico felt the knife come to rest but couldn’t free his hands. “Don’t stop!”
Fear must have gotten the best of Angie because Rico’s command jarred her back into action.
A few more passes of the blade and Rico’s hands came free. “Give me the knife!” She handed it to him blade first. He managed to flip the knife around without cutting himself and quickly severed the bonds on his ankles. The knife was dull, but fortunately, the rope binding his legs to the chair was smaller than that around his hands.
The zombie was back on its feet, so was Rico. It lunged toward him with the good arm in the lead.
Rico brought his forearm up and blocked the creature’s blood covered fingers away—within inches of scratching his face. With his other hand, he slammed his open paw against the side of the zombie’s head while keeping a distance from the thing’s teeth. He managed to slip around the creature’s backside and ran him headlong into the television. The thick glass shattered as the zombie’s head went inside. Blood oozed out of the ghoul’s already blood soaked face and skull.
The zombie fell limp with its head still inside the television.
Rico spun around. Angie had backed up against the wall and gritted her teeth. There were several unmoving zombies on the floor in the kitchen. Gus was covered in blood, lifting the door and two dead zombies off Marcus.
There was no time to lose. It was now or nothing.
“Let’s go.” Angie tugged at him.
Rico dropped to the floor and snatched up Marcus’s gun and the keys. He grabbed Angie by the hand as he ran past her and pulled her down the narrow hall.
“Don’t let them get away!” Marcus shouted from the living room.
The master bedroom window was busted. A lone zombie lay sprawled across the bedroom floor with its brains scattered across the carpet among the shards of glass from the shattered window.
Loud thumps shook the house, signaling that Gus was on the move.
Rico picked up the lamp from the nightstand and busted the rest of the loose glass from the blood-covered window. He held onto Angie as she stepped out toward freedom.
“Were the hell do ya think you’re goin’, piggie-wiggy?”
Rico looked back. The large bulk of a man splattered in blood from head to toe stood before him. Gus had the shotgun up and ready, but the barrel wasn’t pointed in Rico’s direction.
Rules of engagement didn’t allow a police officer to fire his weapon at an assailant unless his life was directly threatened. Gus wasn’t aiming at him, but there was no time to play by the rule book. Rico lifted his gun and fired. There was no second guessing or regret this time. He felt a hard coldness inside which calmed the earlier fears that threatened to incapacitate him.
Gus fell back out of the doorway into the hall. Rico had found his target. Where the bullet hit and how bad the big guy was hurt, he wasn’t sure. He wanted to care, but he didn’t. Gus had shown him some mercy by not blasting his way into the room. Mercy or stupidity? It didn’t really matter. Rico made a hard, fast decision and felt confident he had made the right choice.
With no time to waste, Rico stuck his feet out the window and maneuvered his body around to let himself down. He expected to land on soft grass outside. Instead, he stepped down on an A/C unit. The zombie that had broken in must have used the window unit to step up. His foot slipped off the sheet metal, and he tumbled down next to it. His ankle twisted as he stumbled to maintain his balance.
He quickly brought the gun up and scanned the surroundings. A few zombies shuffled his way, several yards behind. He ran to the front of the trailer and saw several more zombies making their way inside.
Angie crouched down near the rear tire of Marcus’s truck. She had the steak knife in her hand and waved him on. Rico kept low and tried not to make any noise as he hurried over. His ankle stabbed with sharp pain and limited his speed. He dropped to one knee by her side.
“We can’t stay here long. There are more coming from the back and they’ll see us for sure.”
“Do we run for it?” she asked.
“Yeah—wait. Give me the knife.”
Angie laid the knife on the ground next to Rico. Most of the zombies in front had made it near the front of the trailer.
“Head for the bike. I’m right behind you.” Rico gave Angie a push and picked up the knife. He jabbed it into the sidewall of a rear tire. The blade bounced off a few times, but then a hiss of air announced his success. If the tire hadn’t been in such bad shape he would have been wasting his time trying.
When he looked up, Angie was already half the distance between him and the ticket out of that hell-hole. He brought the keys out of his pocket and held them tightly in one hand. The gun was at the ready with white knuckled fingers on alert to pull the trigger.
Through the trees to one side of the yard, he saw a number of walking dead heading over. Some of the zombies that had made it to the front of the trailer must have noticed Angie. They turned and shambled toward the bike.
How many zombies in the area? More than twenty, for sure. More than Rico wanted to deal with.
At least they’re spread out, Rico thought, as he fast stepped his way down the driveway.
The toll from the past 24 hours weighed heavily on his body. Whatever adrenalin rush that had gotten him this far had petered out. He felt like his body was running out of gas. Waves of pain cascaded in his head each time his foot hit the ground. The blood in his mouth tasted awful. He coughed and felt his stomach roil. A crown from a tooth came loose. He spit it into his hand and put it in his pocket. His ankle began to swell inside his boot.
Angie made it to the bike, looked down both sides of the road, and waved him on.
Gunshots erupted from the trailer. Rico hoped like hell the bullets were aimed at the undead. No time to look now. Another round of shots went off, and then someone shouted from the trailer.
It sounded like Marcus.
His last few steps brought him to his bike. Angie waited with a panicked expression. He rammed the gun between his belt and the small of his back and stabbed the key into the ignition. Before he could get on the bike, a zombie neared the exit to the road.
Rico ran with the knife raised high in the air and plunged it down on its skull with all his might. He had no idea how a steak knife would fare against cranium bone. The blade sunk in with a sickening thunk. The zombie dropped to its knees. Steak knife: 1, zombies: 0.
He went to reach down and pull the knife out but Angie beckoned him to get his ass back over there.
He made it to the bike and jumped on. His finger hit the on switch and the Harley purred to life—no sweeter sound had ever been made.
Angie left the side of the bike and ran a few steps toward the trailer.
“What the hell are you doing?” Rico eyed the growing numbers of undead getting closer, looked back at the trailer, and then at the undead once more. “We don’t have time for this.”
Angie shot him a victorious smirked and lifted both hands sporting the American ‘fuck you’ bird toward the trailer.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Stop this silly shit now, and let’s get out of here!”
Angie shook her hands back and forth a few times before heading to the bike.
She smiled on her return. One side of her lip was so swollen it looked like half her face was paralyzed. She hopped on the seat and reached her arms around his chest.
Ugh, pain shot up Rico’s ribs into his left arm. She didn’t squeeze him tight enough to hurt him. Maybe he had a fractured rib, too. There was no telling what Marcus did to him after he passed out.
As the motorcycle sped away, kicking up dirt and gravel, Rico stole once last glance back at the trailer. He saw Marcus stepping out onto the steps. Blood covered his shirt. He had one hand tightly clutched against his shoulder. Either he had been bitten, or Gus accidently shot him. If the man was bitten, he was as good as dead. If that were the case, then Rico was happy. Gus poked his head from the trailer doorway. Rico didn’t stay around long enough to notice his condition.
When they hit the road, two zombies reached out to grab them and came up with empty air. A few more walking single file on the road formed an obstacle course Rico weaved in and out of. It was tough going on the nasty highway, and every hurt on Rico’s body felt the brunt of each rough spot.
Nevertheless, the important thing was they were back on the road and away from the trailer. A strange giddiness ran through him. He felt like he had cheated certain death. As crappy as life had become, he now felt uncanny euphoria. All his senses seemed to sharpen—even through the tiredness. He was alive and life never seemed so precious. Rico had read of near death experiences changing the lives of people, but he never imagined it would be like this. Being alive was a blessing. Each moment needed to be savored. Even pain, as it was part of what living had to offer.
A smile crept across Rico’s lips he felt might never wear off.
Chapter 15
Marcus groaned as he stood outside the trailer and clutched his shoulder. Watching that damn cop escape and Angie flipping him off only added fuel to fire his anger. If he had any bullets left in his pistol, he would have taken that bitch out. No, he’d shoot her in the leg or something—incapacitate her so she couldn’t run away. Then, he’d wait for the zombies to get her ass and eat her alive.
Rocks flew up from the Harley’s rear tire and peppered a few zombies reaching out in vain to claim a prize. The loud roar of the motorcycle diminished as it disappeared down the road, only to become a distant hum that faded in the air.
As bad as he felt, now was not the time for regrets. Even though he and Gus had taken care of the immediate zombie attack, others shuffled up the driveway for another wave.
He turned to head back in the trailer and a sharp pain in his shoulder almost dropped him to his knees. “Son-of-a-bitch!” he whispered.
Gus backed away from the doorway and held out his hand to help Marcus up the steps. Marcus’s lips withered as if he had just sucked on a lemon, and he scowled. Gus backed away farther, almost tripping on the trailer door.
Zombies littered the floor of the living room and kitchen. Blood had been slung in every direction. The walls looked like the abstract impressionist Jackson Pollock had taken buckets of black cherry blood and created a masterpiece. Marcus walked around the door and stepped over the dead bodies strewn on the floor. There was no way this mess would ever get cleaned up. Gus followed him into the master bedroom.
Marcus closed the door behind them and pushed in the lock. Gus let the shotgun drop to the floor and plopped his ass down on the bed. He breathed heavily through his nose and coughed.
“You let them get away,” Marcus said, barely moving his lips over gritting teeth.
“I’m sorry, Boss.” Gus looked up with tired eyes from the bed. He scooted over near the headboard and leaned his back against it. His hand pressed against the bullet wound on his side. Gus ran his tongue over his lips, and said, “He shot me.”
Marcus opened his mouth to tear his muscle a new one but stopped himself before wasting the energy. What’s done was done, and they were both fucked. “Yeah, I see that. How bad does it hurt?”
“Uh, a lot. If a can rest just a few minutes, I might be okay.” He turned his head and looked at the drugs on the nightstand. “Might be something here to help fix me up.”
Marcus stepped over the zombie on the floor and looked through the window. So far, no others ghouls had gathered around back.
Gus looked over at him. “I ain’t no doc or nothin’, but I think the bullet went all the way through. That’s a good thing, right?”
“Yeah, Gus. That’s a good thing.” Marcus bit his lip as blood oozed between the fingers pressed against his shoulder.
“You look a mess, Boss.”
“I feel it.” Marcus coughed. Even he noticed his cough sounded a little different than the one Gus had made. His raspy hack foreshadowed further complication from the zombie bite—something far worse than the loss of blood and permanent scars. “We, uh, we should leave.”
Gus nodded and gingerly eased himself off the bed. He took the sheet and wrapped it around his chest to cover the wound. “What’s the plan, Boss?”
“We waylay those fucks outside, and then load the car with gear.”
“Where’re we going?” Gus slowly reached down and picked up the shotgun.
Marcus pulled off a pillowcase and blotted it against his shoulder. It didn’t hurt quite as badly as before. In fact, it felt kind of numb. “We’re going to a place where I can finish what I started. No one fucks over Marcus Jones and gets away with it. We’re going to find that bitch and her new boyfriend and eviscerate the dog shit out of the both of ’em!”
“How do you know where they went, Boss?”
“You just leave the thinking to me, Gus.”
Chapter 16
Time had become meaningless as Rico cruised down the highways. The exuberance of cheating death he felt earlier had faded long ago. The wind stung his face, and Angie felt like a new appendage growing on his back. Pain and fatigue joined forces and were slowly but surely winning the war. He didn’t know how much longer he could take it. How much longer he could go on. He didn’t want to think of how much farther he had to go, either. How many more miles? How many more hours?
He had to stop.
College Station, near Bryan, Texas, was only a few miles up ahead. Rico could have made better time if he had taken a main highway, but it wasn’t worth the gamble. He did get turned around a few times on the back roads and drove in the wrong direction. His mind and sense of judgment suffered as much as his body.
The college town wasn’t a bad place to stop and get some supplies and rest, as long as they stayed on the outskirts and avoided the main population. He would have preferred driving all the way to K
illeen, having finally settled on a destination.
They had come upon an abandoned truck with lawn equipment on a trailer. He helped himself to a gas can on it and filled his tank. Killeen was only about a hundred miles away, so fuel wasn’t an issue.
Ever since Rico heard the emergency instructions on the radio, he knew that if they had managed to get out of the trailer alive, to head back to Killeen. Killeen, an Army designated safe zone, was the best possible move for survival.
This early in the game though, he had no way of knowing how successful that plan was going. As they neared College Station, he had noticed the skies above the city were darker. A little bad weather didn’t concern him, but the closer they came, he realized the darkness wasn’t from clouds of inclement weather. Black smoke rose in large columns from various locations, forming a dark blanket above the city.
This certainly was bad news. Fire is an unforgiving assailant. Even if the local fire department was operating on some level, there was no way they could handle that many fires at once. It made Rico wonder if things near Dallas or Houston were even worse.
College Station, and Bryan, Texas, were both relatively active, populated areas, but he had to take that risk. The populated areas would have more supplies, and supplies at this point were a must. Preferably something to kill the pain and fill the gullet. He was starving. He knew that Angie was, too. He felt her stomach rumble several times against his back as they drove toward what he hoped to be some semblance of civilization. Sadly, the closer they came, the more he realized that hope was nothing more than a pipe dream.
Thinking the whole world might catch on fire over this mess was something he hadn’t considered before now.
He slowed the bike as they passed a sign that read ‘Welcome to College Station, Texas. Population 97,801. The Lone Star State’.
The Dark Times: A Zombie Novel Page 13
