“Whoa! Hang on...almost lost ya.” Tom shouted. Sam quickly grabbed back around Tom’s neck.
Several quick shotgun blasts sounded from behind them. Tom looked back, but could no longer see Rachael.
Hank shouted from just ahead, “I see a house.”
Tom hesitated, unsure if he should follow Hank and Kelly, or turn back and help Rachael. Holding Sam, he knew he had to keep moving.
Passing through the next set of trees, he saw Hank and Kelly racing across a short field that led to an old farmhouse. A barbwire fence stood at the edge of the field, between them and the house. A few hundred yards down the fence, several demented raced their way. Tom quickly followed after Hank and Kelly. Partway across the field he heard a couple more shotgun blasts from behind. Rachael was in trouble.
Hank stopped at the fence and used one hand and one foot to pry the top two strands apart, forming a large opening for Kelly to crawl through. Once she was on the other side he glanced back to see where Tom was at.
Rushing through the field, Tom yelled, “Get across...I’m going to hand you Sam.”
Kelly held the wires apart for Hank to climb through. As he got to the other side, Tom came running up and immediately lifted Sam up over the wires.
“Go, get to the house.” Tom said.
Tom unslung his rifle and turned down the fence line. Just a few dozen feet away were several angry demented charging toward him. The lead one bared his teeth in an angry growl. Raising his rifle to his shoulder, Tom squeezed off several rapid shots, the rounds slamming into the demented. The body recoiled from the shots, knees buckling, he toppled to the ground. The fallen demented was immediately replaced by two more. Continuing to pull the trigger, Tom dropped both of them. Before their bodies hit the ground, they were replaced by two more.
Even through the grime on their faces, Tom recognized on of them. He was one of the checkout men at the local grocery store. Those times seemed so distant, almost like a past life. Knowing Grocery Store would never recognize him, Tom pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. They were almost on top of him. What? I haven’t shot enough to be out...jam. There was not enough time to clear and re-charge his rifle. He went for his sidearm, even knowing there would never be time to bring it to bear.
In a puff of red, Grocery Store’s head exploded. Thanks Hank.
The second one, a tall man wearing only a pair of filthy, white underwear lunged at Tom, knocking him to the ground. The wind was knocked from Tom’s lungs as he slammed hard to the ground. He was just able to get a forearm between him and Underwear. Red, rage filled eyes stared down at Tom. Spit flew out of Underwear’s mouth as he growled and gnashed his teeth. With his free arm, Tom brought his pistol around, held it to the thing’s head, and pulled the trigger. Gore spattered Tom’s face as Underwear’s head blew out the other side. Tom hefted the limp body off.
Holstering his pistol and grabbing his AR, Tom stood back up and surveyed the field. There were no more demented near him. Looking to the farmhouse, he saw Hank standing on the worn out back porch, rifle in hand. After a quick salute, he turned and disappeared into the house. In the distance to the side of the house, Tom could see movement. It was far off, but coming this way. Tom turned toward the forest to check on Rachael. She was nowhere in sight and the forest was still.
Raising the rifle to his shoulder, he scanned the tree line with the help of his scope’s magnification. There was another loud boom from Rachael’s shotgun. Still no movement. He continued scanning the trees, when he finally saw a flash of color. Bursting through a thick stand of young pine trees was Rachael, shotgun in one hand. Seeing Tom, she turned slightly and began sprinting directly toward him. Right behind her a horde of demented raced out from between the trees, shrieking with rage.
Tom turned, laid the rifle on the ground, and climbed through the wires on the fence. During the process, Hank’s rifle boomed from the farmhouse. Tom grabbed his rifle and quickly worked the slide to clear the breech. With the jam cleared he was able to slam in another round. Rising up, he saw Rachael sprinting across the field, currently about halfway to the fence. Behind her were at least a dozen demented.
Tom raised the rifle to his shoulder and sighted through the scope. His heart pounded in his chest when his view was filled with angry faces. Rachael’s form filled a portion of his view and made for a difficult shot. Not wanting to risk it he side stepped several feet to one side, gaining a better angle on her pursuers. Hank’s rifle continued to fire from the farmhouse. Tom could see an occasional demented drop out of the pack, a victim of Hank’s lead. Picking one demented at a time, Tom began squeezing the trigger. He tried to remain focused, steady his breathing, and calm his already racing heart.
Rachael stumbled and went to the ground, disappearing out of view below the tall grass.
Tom heard something to his left, along the fence line. He knew Rachael was in trouble and needed every bit of his attention.
Ahead of him, he saw several demented nearly on top of Rachael’s location. Her head was just beginning to come into view above the grass. Hank’s rifle boomed, dropping another demented. Tom began rapidly pulling the trigger, throwing as many bullets into the group as possible.
Tom’s rifle ran dry. Still hearing something coming from his left, he dropped his rifle and went for his sidearm. Pulling it up to a ready position, he spun toward the noise and saw a couple demented barreling his way. Firing off a quick burst of shots, he dropped both of them to the ground.
Spinning back toward Rachael, he saw one of the demented was just grabbing a hold of her from behind. The two of them went down, dropping out of sight. There were still a couple farther back, racing to catch up.
Using a fence post for leverage, Tom leapt over the barbwire and began sprinting toward Rachael’s position. Knowing he could never make this long of a shot with his pistol, he pumped his arms and ran as fast as he could. Rachael’s anguished screams pushed him faster. Momentarily blotting them out was the boom of Hank’s rifle. One of the two demented that still ran, toppled over backwards as a round ripped through his skull.
Tom was almost there when Hank fired another shot, dropping the remaining pursuer. Tom was terrified of what he would find as he ran up on Rachael. Her pained screams continued, so he at least knew she was still alive.
The scene he found was as bad as he could have imagined. Rachael lay on the ground face down, pinned by the camouflaged hunter from earlier. The hunter was gnawing at the back of Rachael’s neck, spilling blood everywhere. She was still screaming, but it was becoming strained and weak.
Rushing over, Tom placed his pistol up to the hunter’s head and pulled the trigger. Blood and gore splattered across Rachael’s head and the ground beside her. Tom dropped the pistol and shoved the body off of her. She continued to scream while laying still.
“I’m here...you’re okay now...I got ya.” Tom said while he kneeled down beside her. Thick, dark blood oozed out from several wounds near the base of her neck. The hunter had ripped out large chunks of flesh. Tom grabbed his knife and cut away a large section of his sweatshirt. Using the fabric he began applying pressure to the wounds, hoping to stem the flow of blood.
Adding to Tom’s already high sense of urgency was Hank’s rifle continuing to fire. Something was still out there.
“I have to get you to the house. Can you hold this on your neck?” Tom said. No response. “Rachael, can you hold this?” He repeated. Her back moved with each breath, but her head remained still.
Having no other choice, Tom used one hand to hold the fabric in place while rolling her over onto his other arm. Tom was horrified to see how much blood was pooled on the ground where her head had laid. Cradling her in his arms, he stood and turned for the house. Hank stood on the porch, rifle raised, sighting through the scope. His shots had become less frequent, but he continued to fire at something that was out there.
Racing across the field, Tom tried to think of a smooth way across the barbwire fence, but nothing wa
s coming to mind. Hank had already recognized the potential problem. He had shouldered his rifle and was sprinting across the backyard toward them.
He arrived at the fence just before Tom, and said, “Bad?”
Tom nodded his head and handed her across the fence to Hank.
“There are more coming out of the trees, several undead.” Hank said.
“Get her to the house, I will be right there.”
Hank turned and ran for the house. Tom climbed through the fence and ran along it until he found his rifle. Turning back to the trees he saw several undead staggering across the field. They were less than halfway to the fence and at their pace, he had quite a bit of time. Rather than use up more ammo and draw additional attention, Tom turned and made for the house. Hank’s form was just disappearing into the open doorway.
Inside the old farmhouse was pandemonium. Hank had laid Rachael face down on the kitchen table and Kelly was working on the back of her neck. Blood was running across the wooden table and streaming into a growing pool on the torn up linoleum.
“More rags, I need rags.” Kelly shouted.
Hank was running around, yanking out drawers and flinging open cupboard doors, trying to locate the items Kelly was shouting out. Finally finding a drawer full of kitchen towels, he raced over to Kelly.
Tom looked over and saw Sam standing in the corner. His face was as white as a ghost and he looked about to pass out. Knowing Rachael was in good hands with Kelly; Tom moved over to Sam and kneeled down beside him. “How you doing buddy?”
“My tummy kinda hurts.”
“Let’s get in the other room and lay down.”
Getting the little guy away from the gore and chaos, Tom laid him on the floor in the next room. Immediately some color returned to his face. “You going to be okay bud?”
“Yeah.” Sam said while nodding his head.
Tom only knew a small portion of what Sam had been through and he could only imagine what the little guy had seen and done over the past days. Between being scared, hungry, tired, and now seeing the aftermath of a demented attack it was amazing Sam was still functioning at all.
A loud bang at the back door reminded Tom that those things were still outside. “Hang here buddy; I’m going to check on things.” Tom said.
Tom found his AR leaning in the corner of the kitchen. Dropping the mag, he reloaded the weapon and glanced at Rachael lying on the table. His heart sunk seeing her like this. She was surrounded by bloody towels. Hank and Kelly both leaned over her, trying desperately to keep her alive. Tom charged his rifle and headed for the back door.
The wooden door had no window in it, so Tom was unable to see what stood outside, banging on the door. Moving to the bathroom, he found a small window, mounted high above the bathtub. The glass was caked with mildew and scale making it all but impossible to see out of. He would either have to open the door or head upstairs if he wanted to see what was out there.
Taking the stairs two at a time he climbed to the second story and made for the back wall. Tom found a small bedroom that had a set of backyard facing windows. The room was covered in dust and looked like it had not been used in years if not decades. To one side sat a twin bed, its sheets missing, exposing a stained yellow mattress.
Stepping up to one of the windows, Tom peered down toward the back porch. Standing on the porch were two infected. A small woman, wearing a shredded sundress, was methodically pounding her forehead into the door. The other, a well-dressed business man, paced back and forth behind her, like an anxious salesman. Blood stained the back of his suit where a large hole was torn in the fabric.
Looking further out toward the field, Tom saw there were several undead staggering in the direction of the house. Just along the tree line was one of the demented, racing back and forth between a couple large pine trees. His behavior was erratic. This is the first Tom had seen one that was neither chasing someone nor slowly plodding around. Tom knew the longer they stayed in the old farmhouse the more infected would arrive, and if they stayed too long they might get pinned in.
Hurrying back downstairs, Tom headed for the kitchen. Kelly was leaned over Rachael, and Hank stood to the side, worry oozing out of him. “Help me out real quick.” Tom said to Hank.
Needing no prodding to get out of the kitchen, Hank nodded his head and walked over to Tom. “What’s up?”
“There are a couple at the back door and more on the way. We need to get out of here, but help be block the back door with the couch in there.” Tom said while pointing to an old flower print sofa in the living room.
Tom’s heart raced when he did not find Sam lying on the floor where he left him. Panicking he shouted, “Sam.”
“Look daddy.” Sam said from over by one of the front windows. “I named her Jill...she looks like her, from my book.”
Tom was relieved to have found him, but seeing an infected standing at the window, staring in at Sam, just a foot away, gave him a whole new stress. “Step back from the window bud...slow.”
“It’s okay dad, I’m naming them.”
Tom did not like the plural “them.” He said, “Are there more?”
“Yip, see Jack back there by the barn.”
Jill still stood there, staring down at Sam, barely shifting from side to side.
“Sam...slowly back away. Come over here buddy.” Tom said, while raising his rifle to his shoulder. Putting the dot on Jill’s forehead, he waited to see what she would do. Sam began to ease away from the window. The infected’s eyes remained on him.
Continuing to back away, Sam turned his head toward Tom and said, “Maybe she‘s friendly.”
Tom never took his eyes off of Jill. As Sam got farther away from the window, he noticed that she was beginning to shift her head around, looking agitated. Another couple steps and she began to pound her head against the glass. Sam panicked, turned and ran for Tom. Jill freaked out and slammed her body up against the window, causing it to crack in several directions.
From next to him, Hank said, “That other one is coming from behind her. The window’s not going to hold.”
“Let’s shove this...” Was all Tom could get out before the glass shattered and Jill came crashing into the room. She caught herself on her hands and knees, and began to rise. Placing the red dot on her head, Tom pulled the trigger. The boom was deafening in the enclosed space. Sam covered his ears and screamed out.
Tom could see Jack staggering their way, attracted to all the noise. “Head for the kitchen guys...I’ll take care of the other one.” After Hank and Sam were out of the room, he finished off Jack and went over to the broken out window. Looking out, he could see more infected in the distance. Listening, he could no longer hear the one on the porch banging at the door. Knowing they need to get out of this death trap, Tom made for the kitchen.
Kelly and Hank stood next to Rachael discussing something when Tom entered the room. Both of them stopped and turned toward Tom. “More are coming, we have to move.” Tom said.
“We need wheels.” Hank said.
Kelly looked down at Rachael and said, “She’s nowhere near stable...she needs medical supplies.”
Tom nodded his head and said, “I’ll go out, see if I can get us a vehicle.”
“Nobody’s lived here in years. I can’t imagine there is anything.” Hank said.
“I saw another house down the road...maybe a quarter mile.” Tom replied.
Kelly looked worriedly at Tom, “You can’t go out on your own.”
Tom glanced at Hank, and then back at Kelly. “I’m not leaving anyone here alone.” Reaching for his pistol, Tom felt his empty holster and remembered leaving it where Rachael was attacked. Grabbing his spare from his ankle holster, he held it out toward Kelly. “Take this. You guys cover each other, listen for my return. “ Pointing at Rachael, he added, “Is she ready to move?”
Kelly shrugged her shoulders. “I’ll have her as ready as possible.”
Tom nodded and headed for the living room, figurin
g an exit through the already broken window would both cause the least disturbance and give him the greatest chance of avoiding a face to face confrontation. Looking out through the void, he could see several undead still out front, but they were quite a ways off and were of no current threat.
“Hey Hank, you have a couple walkers headed this way...200 yards out. They might go after me, but you might want to cover up this window with the couch.” Tom said.
Hank walked into the living room as Tom was finishing and said, “Roger that.” After a bit of hesitation, Hank added, “Stay tight out there.”
Tom nodded and stepped out through the window. He debated circling around the house and going for his pistol that remained in the field, but quickly dismissed the idea. Instead he glanced left and right, and then moved toward the old barn, planning to use its protection to get a better view of the neighbor’s house.
On the backside of the barn, Tom found a junkyard of rusted farm equipment. A couple old tractors, a combine, and a variety of implements that Tom did not recognize dotted the landscape, weeds trying to hide their forms. Keeping his rifle raised, he worked his way along the barn, hugging its back wall to minimize the directions threats could come from. Side stepping along the wall, he peered between the equipment, scanning the shadows and tall grass for any movement. Not seeing anything, he continued on to the far corner.
Nearing the corner, Tom sliced the pie to minimize his exposure to any near threats. Not finding any, he crouched down at the corner and surveyed ahead. Far to his left were the three undead he had seen earlier, slowly staggering along the dirt driveway. None had noticed Tom, and they continued toward the farmhouse. Directly across from the barn sat the neighbor’s house. It looked to be nearly a half mile distant, quite a bit farther than he had thought initially. Not having any other options, Tom crouched low and started across the field.
After making it partway across the open space, he turned toward the three undead. They still slowly moved along the driveway, a slow, but inevitable march toward the one’s he loved. He had to change their course. Kelly and Hank could take care of them, but he’d rather not take chances. Tom debated gunning them down, but the shots could draw more attention than he desired. Instead, he held his hands to his mouth in a funnel shape and shouted, “Hey! This way!” The trio continued their slow onslaught. A little louder, “Over here!” Their little parade ground to a halt, and all three turned toward Tom and began shuffling his way. Good enough. Turning back toward the neighbor’s house, Tom began a slow jog.
The Demented Z (Book 2): Desolation Page 3
