Walking Bodies

by Durman, Jason

  Placing my palms on the straps of my backpack, I thought of a quick plan. I took the bag off my shoulders and rammed the side of it into the head of the nearest infected. The man whom I just hit backed into a wall, and I hit him again, smashing his head between the wall and my bag.

  It was heavy and hard to swing, but I turned and dodged a blow from behind. Turning again, I smacked a woman and unlike the man, she fell to the ground after the first hit.

  The bag was smacked from my hand and I was pounded into the ground. I felt feet kick my stomach and something stepping on my hair. I bit my tongue from yelling, and reached out. My hand grabbed hold of a leg, and brought them down with me.

  I crawled on top and delivered a few well served punches to the face. My hand hurt, and the woman I was on top of continued to try and fight me off. Fingernails scratched my face and I hissed in pain, for both my cheek and my knuckles. She took a blow to the temple and ceased to move.

  Panting, I tried to catch my breath. I really needed to find a weapon, and fast. I can't keep fighting them like this.

  My heart rate was still racing, but my breath was slowing down. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a limb. An arm, to be more exact, a long, pale, clawed Sirenes arm.

  My eyes widened. Distracted, I had temporarily forgotten about the battle between the Siren and the Leaper. I rotated to face them and gasped at what I saw.

  The Siren was dead, no doubt. Her throat had been torn clean out, and her chest was open and hollow. There were bodies of other common infected around her, the ones that I didn't take out. There was also another body, the body of the same Leaper who has been following me these past few days.

  My throat was dry and I started to choke for some unknown reason. I slowly limped over to him, ignoring the now prominent pain in my left ankle, and dropped to my knees at his side.

  I have to admit that for a minute I was scared he was going to spring up and slaughter me like in some movie. But after poking him, then slightly shaking him, I was getting scared of him not getting up at all.

  Tears flowed from my face and I didn't even know why. I was actually worried, afraid for something like him. This time I shook him a little harder, but he still didn't budge.

  I was about to flip him over onto his back when he emitted a small, annoyed growl, muffled by the concrete. Gasping in surprise, I crawled a foot away from him. He was bleeding from his stomach area, I suppose where the Siren had stabbed him, and his blood starting to create a nasty pool.

  If he didn't get help, then there's no doubt he would die. I wasn't going to let him starve in the woods, but would I let him bleed out on the street?

  Scooting closer, I quietly and grabbed hold of his arm, trying to hoist him up with me as I stood up myself, which was pretty difficult to do when my left ankle wasn't really in best condition. He growled, but I ignored him. There is no possible way he could do any harm to me in his condition.

  We needed to find shelter, and fast. If I were to stumble on any infected right now, I couldn't defend myself and hold him steady at the same time.

  I dragged him through the ally, and his weight on me was getting heavier and heavier. I bit my tongue again when I tripped over myself, barley catching my balance before we both hit the ground. I hoisted him back up and continued to drag him until we were in a completely different ally then where we were before.

  The ally was long and narrow, with doors on both sides of it.

  Without thinking twice, I headed towards the nearest one. It wasn't locked, so I struggled to free a hand to open it and shut it behind me before taking a look around. It was an office with a window to the rest of the inside. Peering through it, I assumed we just walked through the back door to a gas station.

  I know that I should of checked for any infected, and supplies. But I was so worn out, the floor was starting to look like a good sleeping spot.

  I sat the Leaper down up against the desk not so gently, and plopped down next to him. I couldn't see his eyes, but his lack of response from being handled so roughly told me he was either out cold, or dead. I hoped it's the former.

  Pulling up my knees to my chest, I rubbed my fingertips over my swollen ankle. It burned, but so did the scratches on my cheek. I rubbed them too. They didn't feel bad enough to where they would leave scars. I sighed with relief and exhaustion.

  Surely I had pills on me somewhere. But the health kit I was carrying was basically empty, and I know I didn't have much of a bandage roll left, so I would save them. I yawned, and for a second in think the figure next to me stirred, but I'm not sure.

  My eyes drooped closer together and I struggled to keep them open. It was no use though. I leaned back, resisting the urge to lie on the floor and drifted off to a silent, dark place in the back of my mind.

  One thing came to mind before I fell asleep: I had left the cookie monster bag, along with all the food inside of it, in the ally way.

  Chapter 7

  I woke with a moan. My stomach was rumbling and the wooden floor didn't make as much good as a bed as I'd hoped it would of. The throbbing pain in both my cheek and ankle prevented me from dozing off, and I sat up, reaching for whatever I had left of the kit I had brought.

  Opening it up, I found just some disinfected wipes and half a roll of bandages, like I thought. I sighed, put the kit to the side and pulled my ankle into view. It wasn't as swollen as it was yesterday, so it must be starting to heal already.

  I was happy I wouldn't have to use anything on the ankle. If I could bear it just a little while longer, then it would heal itself up in no time. My cheek on the other hand…

  Running my fingers over the marks, they didn't feel like it would leave permanent scars. If I had a mirror, than I could analyze the total damage, but I think it'll heal before I even find one.

  Just to be safe though, I ran a wipe over my cheek. I wanted to make sure there was nothing nasty on the scratches, in case of it getting worse.

  Pulling back the wipe, I saw that it was dirty and contained traces of blood. Disgusted, I pulled back out another, and wiped my entire face. My face stung a little, and it smelled like rubbing alcohol, but I felt a little bit cleaner. I threw the soiled wipes behind me, out of view.

  It was dark inside the office, darker than when I first came in. I fumbled to my feet. Keeping my hand on the desk, I reached over to the wall and patted around for a light sSiren. I stopped mid search and cursed. There isn't any power, idiot, the light sSiren isn't going to work.

  I sighed to myself. Blinking, I took a look around my surroundings. It was a nice looking office, maybe a little messy. I could make out a few objects in the dark that were close enough to me. A desk, a chair, a bookshelf, a table with a lamp on it, a cookie monster bag….

  Wait…didn't I leave that in the ally?

  The bag was fully intact, sitting quite close to where I was asleep. I stared at the bag suspiciously, knowing full well that it wasn't going to stare at me back. It was left in an ally way after I had used it as a weapon against a couple commons and a Siren, what was it doing back here?

  It took a moment, but the memory of yesterday rushed back to me and I dropped to my knees, glaring at the bag. I blamed him, the Leaper. The same one who I saved in the woods, and decided to hunt me down anyway. I should have shot him when I had the chance…

  Then again, if it weren't for him, that Siren would have reduced me to a pile of shredded flesh. But didn't I bring him here with me?

  As if on cue, sounds was heard from behind. I twisted around and sat on my knees, instinctively holding my handgun up, even though it's useless now.

  He was even harder to see in the dark. But I could make out the outline of his figure in the corner, about 3ft from me. Swallowing the lump in my throat, my heart started racing. He was crouched on the floor, with his hands holding his stomach. I couldn't tell if he was looking at me or not, his hood is always too low.

  I shot a quick glance down to his hands. I could s
ee dried blood where he was clutching, so I guess his injury he received from the Siren had stopped bleeding. Holding the gun up, I put on a brave look. Surely he's not smart enough to know that I basically have no way of defending myself, right?

  He hesitated, as if waiting for me to chuck something at him. (Which I really considered grabbing the lamp and doing just that) then started to move ever so slowly forward.

  In a moment of panic, I flicked my gun's flashlight on. He stopped moving and I scooted as far back as I could until I reached the desk again.

  This was it. He was going to jump me, rip out my throat, my chest, and probably eat my face. After all, infected have to eat something, right? I've always wondered what they ate regularly...

  My hands were shaking, but I still kept them up. He didn't even seem scared from the weapons, just uninterested. If he wasn't threatened by me, then he thought I was weak. I must be, if he won't even put any effort into killing me. Accepting my fate, I breathed deep and waited for him to spring at me.

  Instead, he crawled around me, going straight for the backpack. He pulled the pack open forcefully, not really caring about the issue with the zipper and snatched a can up from inside. Bringing it up to his mouth, he bit at the end, trying to open the can.

  He made a little hole in the top. He sniffed the insides, made a dissatisfied sound, and then roughly tossed the can towards my direction.

  Still a little stunned by the fact that he wasn't turning me into confetti, I yelped at the incoming projectile, crawling away from where it had landed near my position.

  Green peas spilled out from the opening of the can, but I watched the Leaper instead of the wasted food on the floor. He continued to pull out cans, sniff them, then throw them side. He stopped at one and pried it open completely with his teeth.

  I bit my lip, thinking on how painful that could be to open something with your own teeth. Well, I guess he couldn't really be bothered about something like that anymore…but still!

  Using his fingers like forks, he picked out the meaty substances from the inside and gobbled it up in record time. It was messy as hell, and I almost got a little sick by watching him gulf it down. Still, better the processed food than me.

  He turned to faced me and I stiffened. My arms hurt from holding them up for too long and I brought them down long ago. Though I doubt that keeping them up would have worked anyway. Glancing at the abandoned green peas, he leaned over and pushed them towards me, before returning to his meal.

  The can rolled over until it bumped my knee. I narrowed my eyes at it, and him. Picking it up, I stuck a fingernail in the opening and tried to pry it open. No use. Mentally, I groaned.

  I scooted back into the corner he was originally in, as quiet and quickly as possible. The Leaper didn't seem to notice, or he just didn't care. He was still fully occupied.

  Keeping an eye on him, I tilted the can back and poured out some peas into my hand, before shoving them into my mouth. They were dry and chewy, but still good.

  Emptying the can out, I sighed, I haven't eaten peas since last thanksgiving. Now all I needed was some chicken and mashed potatoes. I let out a small chuckle, and then stopped short when I remembered that I wasn't alone here.

  I guessed I had distracted him, or he had already finished, because he was glaring in my direction and I didn't have anything else to do but glare at him back. Like before, the temptation to hurdle the empty can in my grasp was creeping up, but that would only end in disaster.

  He wasn't really doing anything that endangered me in anyway, and hasn't since he's been on my trail. But I can't let my guard down so easily. For all I could know, I could just be a game to him.

  He moved and I flinched by impulse. Though, I felt stupid when he picked up the backpack and started to drag it over to me. He slung it over, and it landed with a thud in front of me.

  Was he the one who went and retrieved my stuff? An image of a golden retriever wearing a hoodie fetching newspaper popped up in my head and I let out a nervous, uncontrollable giggle. I didn't know what to do at this point.

  Not really understanding what he was trying to get at, I unzipped the backpack and reached over to put all the cans he had thrown out back inside. I made sure to keep my attention on him while I refilled the pack, making sure he wasn't going to try anything funny.

  My eyes trailed down to the front of his hoodie. Hunched over, it was hard to see what exactly was on the front of it. Determined to see, I casually pointed my gun, hence my flashlight, at his lower abdomen. I expected him to back away or lash out at me. But he was as still, and emotionless as a statue.

  Dried blood, with obvious holes in the fabric where the Siren's claws had seriously hurt him. I started to feel the same pity I had felt for him back in the woods and quickly finished filling up the bag before I gave myself any ideas.

  Speaking of the woods, I wondered how his leg was doing. I stole a glance at his leg, unable to think of anything else. Though I'm sure he knew I was looking directly at it, since I had shined my light on it on reflex.

  Like before, he still had the same duct tape over his wound. I inwardly cringed on what it might feel like when he had to take it off. That is, if he'll take it off. Sure, the tape would stop the bleeding, but without proper treatment, the wound he had could have only gotten worse in this period of time.

  If his leg was as bad as I thought it was, then how did he manage to hurl himself across rooftops in such incredible speed and distance. Maybe infected didn't feel any pain? No, that wouldn't be it. If the infected didn't feel any pain, than he wouldn't have made such whiny noises when his leg was still caught in the trap.

  And the Siren in the ally wouldn't have howled about her arm…

  Damn, I owed him that didn't I? No, I already saved him once, but then he had to go and fetch my pack for me, and it just wouldn't be right if I didn't show gratitude. Especially if he had shown his earlier, though in a much more…violent way.

  My medkit still had disinfected wipes and bandages left over. Not to mention the pain pills I had found in the wreckage 3 days ago. But I'll need to save those, I wasn't hurt all that bad. I briefly thought on whether or not it was really such a good idea to get close to him, then I remember having the same thought back in the woods when I had saved him.

  Holding out my cautiously, like a scared child trying to pet a huge, mean bulldog. The Leaper's glare traveled from me to my hand, then back to me. Still no change of emotion. No fear and no threating stance. I took that as a good sign.

  I took a deep breath, and inwardly hoped that it wouldn't be my last. Ever so slowly, I moved closely and put my hands on his shoulders as gently as I could. He tensed. I thought about pulling them back and forgetting the whole thing, but instead applied pressure and very carefully pushed him down.

  It was basically the only way I could tell him to 'sit', since I'm guessing he wouldn't understand me if I talked to him. Amazedly, he leaned back and sat on the floor.

  Nervously, I pulled my hands away from him, in case he had any thoughts about tearing them off. He still didn't show any obvious signs of wanting to slaughter me, so I took another deep breath and worked on the duct tape.

  The duct tape was tight, and I had to pull quite hard before it even began to unravel. Every few second or so I would glance at the leg's owner. He still had that blank, statue look. But I knew he was watching me closely. This was making me feel unbelievably unconformable, but at least I wouldn't feel guilty later.

  I wasn't sure whether to blame my soft side, or my depleting sanity that keeps bringing up this feeling.

  The tape was getting thinner until it was down to the last layer. I began removing it, when I heard a painful, defined hiss from beside me.

  Freezing, my hands were still on his make-shift bandage as I rotated my head to face his stare. Though I couldn't see his eyes, he looked pissed, judging by the snarl he had painted on his face and his repeatedly tSirening fingers. My chest was thumping a
nd I was sure he could hear it. I was suddenly worried about the safety of my wellbeing.

  Taking my hands off him and placing them in my lap, I waited for the continuing noises he made to stop. It seemed like forever before he stopped making the horrible growling noises. I stared at my palms. I'm already this far, I can't stop now. Besides, that guilty feeling will haunt me if I decide to chicken out.

  I summoned whatever courage I had left, grabbed the remaining tape and ripped it off like a Band-Aid.

  The Leaper yelped in pain and pulled his leg away from my reach. Startled, I flew back wards a little, half expecting him to swipe at me. Instead, his hands hovered around the now bleeding and exposed wound. He scowled at me, and I let out a small whimper in response.

  While he focused on his legs, I snatched the leftover bandages and wipes. Getting a good look at the entire mess, I felt a little bile creep up in my throat, but I swallowed it back down. I've seen and treated worse, this was nothing.

  Now the only problem was how I was going to get close again. Carefully, I edged over to him. He saw me coming, and growled. I ignored him; he did the same thing back in the woods. This was for his own good.

  I won't lie, I was scared as hell. Reaching out a hand, I placed one on his arm and it jerked back in response. His fingers were constantly tSirening and his focus shifted to me.

  Giving it my best shot, I tried to make a comforting gesture. Instead of him calming down as I had hoped, he only became confused. But it was better than enraged.

  Moving my hands to the wound, he instinctively moved it away. Rolling my eyes, his behavior reminded me of Aiden whenever I would try to help him. Every time, that biker would act like a child and say he would do it himself, only to make it worse, much like the Leaper and his beloved duct tape.

  Grabbing the end of his pants leg, I held it in place, much to the Leaper's dislike. Now, I could clearly just feel the anger radiating off his form. But if he really couldn't handle the pain, then he should just slice me up, because I'm not stopping now.