Serial Killer Z

by Philip Harris

  Alex looked like he was going to object, but Mike got in first. “I agree. We can’t stay here.”

  “And if the bikes don’t start?” Lucy said.

  “Then we go with Plan B,” Mike said. “We try to make it to the forest.” He looked around the room at us, waiting for someone to raise an objection.

  It was Lucy who brought up the obvious question. “So, who’s the bait?”

  Without realizing what I was doing, I raised my hand. “I’ll go.”

  Mike nodded once then looked at Alex.

  Alex’s shoulders sank. “Okay.” He lifted his injured hand and waggled it. “I’d struggle to drive a bike anyway.”

  I checked outside. One of the zombies had wandered around the edge of the building, but it was ambling toward the forest with its back to us. “It’s still clear, but I don’t know for how long.”

  Mike held out the gun. “You should take this.”

  I shook my head. “Not unless Alex wants it. I’m more likely to blow my own foot off.”

  Alex gave a little snort of laughter. “Then we’d be competing to see who could maim themselves first. You keep it. Just make sure you get to those bikes.”

  “Hold on,” Mike said, and he went into the bedroom.

  At the front of the building, the zombies had almost made it through the broken door, but there were so many now that they were hampering each other’s progress. They saw me. The low droning that seemed to hang in the hallway intensified in pitch. One of the zombies threw herself at the window. Black gore spattered the glass, and a crack formed.

  Mike reappeared with a battered wooden baseball bat. “If you don’t want the gun, take this.”

  Alex raised his injured hand, looking unhappy. “You’d better have it.”

  I took the scratched and worn bat. It seemed solid. “Thanks.”

  Lucy placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “You ready?”

  He took a deep breath and let it out, very slowly. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Mike checked the window then unbolted the door.

  “You guys stay out of sight,” Alex said.

  Mike nodded. “Good luck.”

  I cracked open the door and peered out. The lone zombie was still heading toward the forest, but I could only see half of the parking lot. I could feel the shadow’s growing excitement and had to pause to gather my wits for a few seconds.

  I pushed the door open and stepped into a wall of rancid air, heavy with the stench of rot and blood. A zombie reared up off to my right, his face so decayed most of the flesh had fallen away.

  Chapter 32

  Decoys

  I shouted and pulled back, but Alex was right behind me, and I bumped into him. The zombie was as surprised as I was at finding lunch standing right in front of him. It took a few seconds for his decaying synapses to instruct his arms to reach for me. His hand grazed my shoulder. I ducked and then darted forward before spinning around to face him.

  One of the zombie’s eyes was missing, torn out by something or someone. The other tracked me as he dragged himself around and came at me again. I raised my bat, but Alex ran at the zombie from out of the shadow of the store. He slammed into his back and sent him sprawling.

  The zombie grabbed at my leg. I swung the bat down onto his skull. It shattered. Bits of brain and black gunk splashed across the ground. I hit him again, twice. The shadow pulsed in time with the blows.

  As soon as Lucy saw we were safe, she pulled the door shut, locking us outside. Mike’s face appeared in the window, his expression tense.

  “Come on,” I said.

  “Hold on.”

  Alex ran across the lot and picked up a metal bar. It was rusted and bent, but it was better than nothing.

  We moved around the building until we could see the swarm. Most of it was still focused on the front of the store, but a few of the zombies had given up and were wandering in random directions. One was next to an abandoned car, clawing at the rear window. Two more were simply standing in the middle of the road, staring up at the sky.

  The quad bikes were intact but surrounded by zombies. The shadow tried to goad me into leaving Alex and the others behind. I pictured myself riding off up the road, supplies strapped behind me. Life would return to how it was—me living alone in the camp. I’d be free again. It was all I could manage not to run for the nearest bike.

  We started shouting and waving our arms. It was odd at first, and our instinct for self-preservation naturally kept our voices low. Some of the zombies saw us and turned their attention away from the building, but most didn’t.

  I waved my arms again and screamed. “Come on! Over here, you ugly bastards!”

  It felt like every single zombie turned to look at me, their heads moving in perfect unison. A handful, the less decayed of the group, broke away immediately and lumbered across the parking lot toward us.

  Alex added his own cry, jumping up and down and waving his arms like a madman. More of the zombies began moving, and their moans intensified, filling the air.

  “Now what?” Alex said.

  “We get moving.”

  We turned and jogged back the way we’d come, still shouting, still waving our arms. More zombies peeled away from the store—a tidal wave of the living dead heading our way. Some picked their route carefully, avoiding the rocks and grass. Others were less observant, and a couple stumbled on lumps of concrete and went down. They were quickly swallowed up by the swarm. If they got back up, I didn’t see them.

  Alex swore. Another group of zombies had appeared ahead of us. There were a lot fewer of them, no more than ten, but they were still in our way. We slowed to a walk, moving closer to the tree line. There was still room for us to get to the bikes if we went around the gas station, but it was a lot farther than I’d have liked. I began to wonder if maybe we should have taken Mike up on his offer of a gun.

  Most of the main swarm had rounded the corner now. There were just a few stragglers left bringing up the rear. I couldn’t see Lucy or Mike through the living room window. With luck, the front of the store would be clear and they’d be making their way to the bikes.

  A few of the faster zombies were closing in. I pointed toward the wreckage of the gas station. “We should start moving that way, try to get to the front before they cut us off.”

  Something cracked in the trees. A zombie in a pink floral dress stumbled into view. I backed off, drawing her out while Alex held his ground.

  When the zombie was within range, Alex darted forward and drove the metal bar into the side of her head. Blood and bone and brain flew through the air, and she went down. We didn’t wait to see if she got up again.

  We had the zombies’ attention now, and we concentrated on getting safely across the parking lot. The group ahead of us had grown; there were closer to fifteen of them now. They were clustered together. One good grenade would have taken them all out. If we’d had one.

  A gunshot rang out. Two more followed in quick succession. I listened for the sound of the bikes starting up, but all I could hear was the swarm’s drone. As we got closer to the gas station, two more zombies stumbled into view. They were both badly damaged, their arms crushed, torsos ripped open to reveal scarlet flesh. We ran directly at them, weapons raised.

  I reached the dead first. The shadow rose up, filling me with malevolent energy. I swung my bat at the closest zombie. Wood met bone, and his jaw shattered. He staggered and fell.

  Alex brought the bar down on top of the other zombie’s head, shattering her skull. She fell to the ground. Alex swung the bar again and made sure she didn’t get back up. I did the same, swinging my bat into the side of my zombie’s head as though I were holding a golf club.

  We pushed on, moving along the side of the building toward the pumps. A female zombie stumbled across the burned-out station. Her progress was hampered by the wreckage of the building’s roof. I made a beeline for her, readying my bat.

  Alex called out. “Marcus!”

 
He was pointing toward the store. Lucy and Mike had reached the bikes, but they were surrounded by a group of five zombies. We veered toward them and started shouting again.

  One of the zombies, a heavily decayed specimen wearing the tattered remains of a black trench coat, staggered across the pavement in our direction. Its jaw dropped open, and it groaned. Something thick and wet fell from its mouth. The others ignored us, intent on closer prey.

  Another shot rang out, and the back of one of the zombie’s heads exploded. Lucy was carrying some kind of steak knife, and she swung it, ramming it into the side of another zombie. He fell back, pulling the knife out of her grip. A zombie in a hockey jersey grabbed at her, and she stumbled sideways. She flung out a fist but missed. The zombie lunged at her again. She managed to get her arm up under the creature’s chin, but his momentum carried them both to the ground.

  The zombie we’d distracted turned back toward Mike just as he raised his gun. He pulled the trigger, hitting the zombie in the side of the head. The bullet tore off his ear but did nothing to stop him. Mike fired again, but there was no gunshot, just a hollow click. A fraction of a second later, the zombie was on him. A second, a woman in blue jeans, grabbed him, too. He fell backward, the bike keeping him upright as he struggled with the zombies.

  I pushed harder, accelerating even as my lungs cried out for air. Lucy was still trapped beneath the hockey fan when I reached her. He snapped and snarled at her, spattering her face with flecks of blood as she tried to push him away. I raised the bat, ready to hit the zombie, but he was too close to Lucy.

  She let out a guttural scream and pushed him up and away from her face. I hooked the bat around his throat and pulled backward, dragging him off of her. The zombie reached back. His hands clawed at me, raking my jacket. I tightened the bat, hoping the pressure might break his neck, but my hand slipped on the blood-covered wood. He grabbed at me again, and I smelled rotting flesh as his hand brushed my face.

  “Marcus!”

  It was Alex. He’d pulled up a couple of feet away from me, the bar held over his shoulder as though he was the one holding the baseball bat. I twisted around, turning the zombie toward him, then pushed.

  As the zombie stepped forward, Alex swung. The bar caught him on the side of his head, and he went down.

  Lucy let out a cry.

  Mike had managed to get his knee between him and the zombie on top of him, but the other one had her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Only the gun wedged sideways in her mouth was stopping her from tearing him apart. I rammed the end of the bat into the trench coat–wearing zombie’s face. The blow didn’t kill him, but it was enough to send him staggering away from the bike. Mike rolled sideways, twisting free of the other zombie’s grip.

  I swung at the trench-coated zombie again. The bat crunched into the side of his head, and his skull shattered. As he fell to the ground, I turned, ready to go after the female zombie, but Lucy had retrieved her steak knife. She drove the blade into the side of the zombie’s neck. The zombie screamed and tried to grab Lucy, but it was too late. She twisted the knife, unleashing a torrent of black blood from the zombie’s throat. The zombie collapsed, dead.

  Mike was already on the bike. He twisted the ignition key, and the machine coughed and spluttered to life.

  He gunned the engine. “Come on!”

  We only had one working bike.

  I looked at Lucy. She ignored me, climbing onto the blue quad bike instead. Her actions confused me for a couple of seconds, then I saw the jumper cables connecting the two bikes. Mike revved the engine again as Lucy turned the ignition key. The bike whined but didn’t start.

  “Lucy…” Alex said.

  The swarm of zombies had rounded the corner and was moving toward us.

  “Nearly there,” she said and tried the ignition again. The bike was silent, not even a whine.

  Two more zombies appeared behind us, stragglers that had been too slow to get taken in by our diversion. I swung my bat, an uppercut that caught the nearest one beneath the jaw and sent it spinning backward.

  Alex wasn’t so lucky. His zombie was tall—well over six feet. He swung the bar and caught him on the shoulder. There was a crack, but he didn’t slow down.

  Behind us, the engine whined again. This time, it caught. Lucy let out a shout of victory.

  “Go on!” I said and stepped between Alex and the tall zombie.

  He reached for me, and I hit him in the chest with the bat. My arms were tired, and the blow was weak. I changed tack and smashed the bat into his right leg. His knee collapsed inward, and he pitched forward. Swinging the bat over my head, I slammed it into his back, driving him to the ground.

  Not caring whether I’d actually killed him, I turned and ran toward the bikes. Alex was already sitting behind Lucy, a backpack of supplies clutched in his arms. The bandages on his hand were stained red, but it wasn’t clear who the blood belonged to. Lucy revved the engine and accelerated forward. The jumper cables snapped free and bounced along behind her.

  There were two more zombies half a dozen feet from the back of the other bike, both of them young boys. Mike looked over his shoulder and shouted at me to hurry. Not needing to be told twice, I grabbed a backpack that was lying on the ground then climbed on board. Mike had the bike moving before I was even sitting down, and we sped away from the zombies, spraying gravel and dirt in our wake.

  The swarm had spread out, and the road was a sea of shambling, rotting corpses. Lucy was already well ahead of us, weaving through the crowd as best she could.

  Her bike jerked sideways, out of the way of an oncoming zombie, but it wasn’t enough. The back hit him and knocked him to the ground. The bike tipped. Lucy leaned left, righting it again. She twisted the handlebars, trying to dodge another zombie. The front fender slammed into him. His legs buckled, and Lucy’s bike bounced as she ran over him. She slowed, let the bike settle, then accelerated again.

  Mike pushed on, slaloming through the path Lucy had cut. As we reached the top of the hill, the swarm ahead of us thinned out. Lucy was able to slow, and by the time we were heading down the other side, we’d pulled alongside her.

  Alex gave a thumbs-up, but his face was pale, and he was clutching a backpack as though his life depended on it. I checked my hands and face for cuts and bites. Mike’s cheek was bruised, and there were splashes of black blood on his jacket, but otherwise, he seemed fine.

  We accelerated away from the swarm. The aftereffects of the adrenaline-filled fight had left my arms and legs feeling weak. I tried to focus on not falling off as the bike raced along the highway.

  I smiled. We had food now, maybe not as much as we’d hoped, but enough for Mike and the others to get to the ranger station. Enough for them to leave.

  The path through the forest was nearer than I remembered, and my excitement grew as the bikes turned onto the trail that led to the camp. Within a few hours, I’d be alone again.

  We were almost back at the camp when we hit the zombie.

  She lurched out of the forest in front of us, just as we rode over a blind crest. Lucy swerved to miss her, and the back end of the bike slid into a drainage ditch. It slewed sideways as she twisted the handlebars, trying to stay upright. For a moment, it looked as though she’d manage it. Then the front left wheel hit a rock, and the bike bounced over the lip of the ditch and tipped sideways. It skidded to a halt in a cacophony of twisting metal and shattering plastic.

  Mike and I weren’t so lucky. He braked as soon as he saw the zombie, but it was too late. The bike slid forward on the loose earth and hit her head-on. The impact caught her at the knees, throwing her forward on top of the bike. She grabbed at Mike. Ragged nails tore across his cheek, and he screamed in pain.

  The zombie’s legs were a mass of shattered bone and torn muscle where the bike’s metal grill had torn them apart. She ignored the damage and attacked Mike. Her injured legs stopped her from getting much traction, but she managed to get one hand within reach of his shoulder. She c
lutched it, digging in clawlike fingers and using the leverage to drag herself forward. Mike struggled with her, but with me behind him he had no room to move.

  I threw myself off the bike. Mike punched at the zombie. The blow caught her on the side of the head, but as he pulled back she lunged again. Her teeth clamped around his wrist. He screamed as she tore into his flesh. Blood poured down his arm.

  Pulling out my knife, I ran at the woman. She lifted her head from Mike’s wrist, ripping away a chunk of flesh. I rammed the knife into the base of her neck and twisted. She screamed—a high-pitched wail that set my teeth on edge and sent the shadow into paroxysms of excitement. I stabbed at her neck again, and the screaming stopped. I shoved her away from the bike with my foot.

  Mike was lying on the bike, his hand clutched around his wrist. His face was contorted in agony. Blood poured from between his fingers, soaking his jeans and the bike. He was already turning pale.

  Chapter 33

  The Bitten and the Broken

  Lucy dragged herself free of the other bike and clambered out of the ditch. “Mike! Oh God, no!”

  There were tears streaming down her face. Blood trickled from a cut across her forehead and turned the tears red. She grabbed Mike’s face and turned it to look at her. His eyes flickered open.

  “You fight it, Mike. We’ll find a way to stop it spreading.”

  Mike shook his head slightly, and his eyes closed again.

  “Marcus, we have to do something!”

  I looked at the wound on his wrist and the blood still pouring from it. It was too late. “Get me the medical kit.”

  Mike’s head tipped forward.

  “Hey!” shouted Lucy. “You stay awake, or I swear I’ll kill you. You hear me?”

  He didn’t reply. She let go and ran to get the medical kit.