by T. W. Brown
He could not imagine the horror experienced by that child in his last moments. Had it been the rest of his family that came for him and literally tore him limb from limb? It was in that moment that he understood the screams that he’d heard earlier. The people that were dying were not doing so in a quick manner. Instead, they were being ripped open, torn apart, and feasted upon by the undead. How many of those attacks were made worse by the attacker being a loved one?
“We’re coming up on Gresham in a few miles,” Erin announced. “I imagine it will start to get hairy right around there.”
Jason nodded and shook his mind free of the image that was burned in more permanent than any of his tattoos. A tattoo could be covered and made into something beautiful. What he’d seen inside that van would never fade. He was as certain of that as he could be of anything.
Almost as if her words had acted as a cue, Jason began to pick out wispy columns of smoke on the horizon. He stopped counting at thirty. Fires of varying sizes were going to burn out of control until they simply petered out, got a good old-fashioned Northwest rainstorm to douse them, or ran out of fuel. Judging by the clear and cloudless sky that was turning a soft blue, rain was not going to be coming anytime soon. Granted, it was the Pacific Northwest, where, if you didn’t like the weather, just wait ten minutes and it would change; still he did not see anything on the horizon that gave hope to any form of moisture falling soon.
“Still nothing on your phone?” Jason asked to take his mind off of everything else.
“Nothing,” Erin stated the obvious as she tapped the screen with her thumb and tried once again to call Cherry.
There had been one moment where they got their hopes up. It had been all for naught. The audible click, pause, and then a single ring took a total of perhaps three seconds. It seemed like an eternity, but, just as suddenly, there was another clicking sound and then the silence. Not even the “All circuits are busy now” message was playing.
They rounded a long, arcing corner and just passed the “Welcome to Gresham” sign when Jason took his foot off the gas. In the distance, a pack of figures had flooded the highway. At first, he thought that they were zombies. His throat was tightening when he saw most of them were running!
“Crap,” he breathed. “This is gonna be a short fucking apocalypse.” He had always dismissed sprinting zombies anytime the topic arose. The conversation usually went something along the lines of:
“Zombies can’t sprint.”
“Why not?”
“Because, they would lack the control and coordination of being able to physiologically perform such things.”
“You do remember that we are debating things that rise from the dead and become mindless eating machines with apparently no need to poop or otherwise void all the human snacks they consume, right?”
“Fuck off.”
Jason did not see one bit of humor in recalling those conversations at the moment. If zombies could do that whole Snyder Dawn of the Dead remake thing and sprint? Humanity had about a week at best.
“What’s wrong?” Erin asked as she looked up from the useless phone in her hand.
Jason did not need to answer. He was looking straight ahead, so Erin (and Rose) simply followed his gaze. Rose actually crawled forward a bit and was wedged in between the two front seats.
“Are those—” Rose began, but a scream cut her off as if providing the answer.
“Thank God,” Jason blurted before realizing exactly to what he had just given thanks. “I mean…”
“You thought they were sprinters,” Erin said with a wince. “I think we can cut you slack on that one. But for now…we need to get moving.”
“Where are they all coming from?” Rose asked as she continued leaning forward between the seats.
Jason’s eyes were scanning the highway in the general direction that this relatively large group was pouring out. When he saw it, he felt another stab at his conscience. It wasn’t bad enough that he’d just thanked God that these were people running for their lives and falling under attack by zombies in their midst; nope, they were all pouring from a massive church.
Looking at the scene ahead, he made a decision. Stomping on the gas, Jason swerved to the left and crossed into the eastbound lane. With no oncoming traffic, he only had to dodge the people…and undead. However, he knew very well that he would have to be cautious. This older model Honda Civic would not withstand much in the way of an impact. Despite what cars might be able to endure on television and in the movies, one body to the grill of this baby would end their trip in a hurry; of that much he was damn near certain.
“Be careful!” Erin hissed as he jerked hard to the right on the wheel to avoid a man who tumbled down the little slope and then came leaping out of the irrigation ditch that ran alongside the highway.
There was a thud, and Rose squealed as the passenger side smacked into one of the people or zombies, it was too much of a blur to be able to tell. What was not lost in the chaos were the cries of the living as they begged for the car to stop.
Jason felt his heart physically ache as he listened to all those pleas. He knew very well that there was nothing to be gained from stopping. They would be swamped, and that would be the end of things.
The highway began a long gradual downslope into a swirling cloud. To the same side of the highway as the church was one of the fires that seemed to be burning out of control. As they neared, Jason could make out the boxy shapes of the residences populating the manufactured home community that was now becoming a raging inferno. He stepped on the gas and urged the Honda to give all it could give. Even inside the vehicle, the heat was almost enough to hurt his skin. Worse still was the stench. The bitter smell of burning rubber, plastic, and bodies was enough to make all three of them gag.
At last they came out of the hazy smoke and Jason rolled down the window as they rocketed through an intersection. The traffic lights were dark, and with no other vehicles in sight, Jason did not even ease up on the accelerator in the slightest bit.
“That was worse than the cell block day room on chili night,” Jason quipped, trying to bring some levity. He glanced to his right and saw no reaction from either of the women.
They continued to drive towards Portland. Every mile that clicked off on the odometer was both a blessing and a curse. The blessing came in their being just that much closer to their destination. The curse came in the form of the shadowy figures flitting by. Some wandered open parking lots, other strolled the highway itself as the undead became more and more prevalent.
“How?” Rose whispered.
“People refusing to believe until it was too late, and then some folks still denying it up to the very end,” Jason replied. “Seriously, did you ever think for a moment that zombies could really happen? That is stuff out of the movies and comic books. That is George Romero and Stephen King shit…not something that could actually go down in the real world.”
***
“You take care of Violet yet?” Erin asked after they’d driven on for a few more minutes.
“Umm…no. Why?” Rose answered tentatively, hearing something in the other woman’s tone that sent off warning signals.
“That is how it is happening so fast.”
Rose thought about it for a moment. Twice she opened her mouth to protest, but each time, she shut it. She knew what Erin’s point was as well as the fact that she could not refute it. Hell, it had almost cost her her own life. She had clung to some sort of false hope all the way up to the moment when she’d been shoved into that bedroom with her sister, nephew, and niece; the latter of which had been free. Even then, she had raged at Hank Reynolds when he’d killed Crystal.
“What time did your friend say that they were making a break for it?” Jason asked. His eyes were flicking around the surrounding area and then down to the gas gauge. “We might make it to Legacy, but we won’t make it back on this tank. We need to get gas.”
“You really think anyplace is gonna be open?�
� Rose asked. So far, they had practically been the only living people on the roads up to this point. A fact that chilled her as her mind flipped through all the times she had driven to her sister’s house. She could not ever recall one time where she’d been the only car on Highway 26.
“I ain’t looking for a place that is open,” Jason replied, his voice tight from the tension.
Without warning, he suddenly veered to the right. The familiar sign of a Fred Meyer parking lot leapt into her field of vision. Dodging one lone zombie that was stumbling across the entrance, they banked hard to the left, tossing Rose to the right of the backseat where she felt her right arm’s funny bone hit something hard enough to send electric spasms to the tips of her fingers.
The car came to a screeching halt under the awning and Jason jumped out. He started for the main building and then stopped and opened his door, sticking his head back inside.
“Both of you stay put.” Erin opened her mouth, but he cut her off with a raised hand. “This isn’t about if you are capable. It is about I am gonna do some stuff in a hurry and I don’t need you in the way. If you see anything coming, honk the horn and we are outta here.”
He did not wait for another word and simply slammed the door. Rose watched through the window as he approached the squat, gray building where the top of a register could be seen. He reached down and grabbed something from the ground and turned his head as he smashed it into the window. It took a few more tries and made a lot of noise, but eventually, the window gave way.
He vanished through the gaping hole after clearing a path with one arm wrapped in his jacket.
“I think he’s done this before,” Erin quipped.
“Looks like it,” Rose agreed, taking a few seconds before realizing that Erin had made the comment as more of a joke.
A moment later, lights were coming on at each of the bays. Jason emerged and rushed to the pump beside the car. Erin rolled the window down and stuck her head out. “Can I use my gas points?”
“Funny,” Jason sniped, a flurry of activity as he shoved the nozzle in and squeezed the handle. “And how about your windows, you want them washed, maybe have me check the fluids?”
“Damn, how long were you in prison?” Rose called. This received a chuckle from Erin that was only made bigger when Jason shot a scowl over one shoulder.
“Hate to cut this party short, but we got incoming!” Erin pointed forward. Sure enough, five figures were headed their way. The awkward gait and low moans confirmed that these dark shadows were not members of the living.
Jason glanced up and then back at the readout on the pump. He seemed to weigh something in his head for a moment before speaking.
“Take ‘em down. We have no idea if or when we might get another opportunity like this. We need to fill this baby up.”
Erin didn’t wait a second before throwing open the door and drawing the large, heavy blade at her hip. Rose had grabbed a hand axe from the garage before they’d left. She’d used it more than once to cut firewood down to kindling on many occasions at her sister’s house. She imagined that there were probably better weapons, but it had stuck out from everything else in the garage. Perhaps solely due to its familiarity; but, whatever the case, that was the weapon she had (except for the pistol at her side which they had agreed beforehand only to use as the very last resort).
Erin swung and took the top third of the skull from an elderly woman who crumbled in a heap. That prompted Rose to call out, “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!”
She had no idea where this was coming from. It was not like her to make jokes; especially bad ones and in such poor taste. Still, it made her feel good when Erin shot a crooked smile at her before moving on to the next target.
Rose stepped up to a man that had obviously never jogged a day in his life. His jowls were even more pronounced with the droop to his skin that death seemed to give. He had at least three chins and a belly that left no doubt that this man had not seen his own penis, except perhaps in a mirror, for a long time.
Bringing her arm up and back, Rose judged the obese man’s next step perfectly and brought the weapon down hard. The head of the hand ax crashed through skull and cleaved all the way to the bridge of the man’s nose. A second later, Rose yelped in pain. The first explosion came from the sting her hands felt from the shock of the blow, the second came when the man toppled. The ax was buried and wedged firmly in the skull; coupled with her death-lock grip, she felt her wrist turn viciously and then give an audible snap as her hand was twisted with sudden violence.
“Rose!” Erin yelled, yanking her machete free from her third zombie.
The final remaining zombie was another man. This one was shorter and of Hispanic origin. His black hair had a huge patch missing where it had apparently been ripped out by the roots. Rose was on her side with her back to the approaching zombie, she never saw it until it flopped onto her and began to paw at her with its cold, dead hands.
Jason seemed to appear out of nowhere. He grabbed the monster by its collar and yanked it back and away just as its mouth came within a hair’s breadth of clamping down on the bridge of Rose’s nose.
A long strand of some sort of dark mucous dripped from the undead man’s mouth and into Rose’s. The woman coughed suddenly as she choked on the vile, thick fluid. Erin was kneeling beside her now and turning her onto her side, slapping her hard on the back.
“Cough it up, Rose!” Erin urged.
She tried, but it had gone down the wrong pipe and now she was struggling to breathe. With weak, mewling croaks, Rose tried to scream, cry, anything if it would get that foul taste from the back of her throat.
She closed her eyes as she continued to struggle, but they popped open an instant later when she was greeted behind her eyelids by the sickly, washed out face of the man who had just tried to bite her. She could see every single tracer in his milky eyes, the absolute lack of any emotion as the man leaned in with the intention of taking a piece of her.
At last, a pinhole seemed to open and allow in just the slightest bit of oxygen. Rose tried to gasp and suck it in, but could still barely get enough to push back the sense that she would suffocate and drown in the unholy saliva of one of the walking dead.
She was aware of arms scooping her up and then she was tossed unceremoniously into the back seat. She hit her head on something and felt the world start to fall away, but she would not allow that darkness to come. She was terrified that, if her eyes closed, they might never open, or worse…she would see the face of that zombie as it drew near to try and bite her.
“Sorry about that!” Rose heard Jason holler as he slammed the door and vanished from view. A moment later she heard the sound of screeching tires. She was stricken with the funniest thought, I didn’t know my car had that kind of power.
***
“Get that stupid dog back to the house and shut it up!” Ken snapped as he brought his pistol around and fired pointblank into the face of the zombie that dared to take a swipe at him.
He felt the adrenaline dump another batch of its magic elixir into his system. The problem was that he did not know how much longer he would be able to count on that resource.
It had started about twenty minutes ago, but it seemed like hours. Oddly enough, it had been the barking of that cursed black and white dog that alerted Ken and Juanita that there was a problem.
Of course, if the barking would have failed, he was pretty certain that the sounds of a meaty hand slapping the door would have woke him up in a hurry. Ken sat up, his old cop reflexes kicking in immediately as he had a Glock in his hand before his eyes were even all the way open.
Juanita sat up from the couch as Ken passed, but before he could reach the door, another loud noise made him take a step back as a window shattered off to his right. The blinds crashed to the floor as the upper half of a woman who had most of the right side of her face missing from a bullet that had not ended her came clawing through the broken window. Ken stepped over and lifted his boo
ted foot high. He brought it down on the back of the neck of the female zombie.
Stepping over had given him a clear view outside. Somehow, several of the undead had made their way inside the fence. His mind immediately jumped to the Reynolds kid. He just had a feeling.
Juanita had finally gotten into action, but the dogs were having a fit and barking like crazy. The black and white kept lunging in at the downed zombie woman until Juanita pushed the animal aside and drove a large butcher’s knife into its temple.
Looking out the window, Ken spotted a pair of zombies at the door. Both were slapping and pawing at it, oblivious of his presence. Stepping back, he grabbed Juanita and pointed at the door and then held up two fingers. She nodded. It wasn’t until he yanked the door open and flung the first one to the floor that he could get his hands on that he questioned his reason for hand signals. Were the zombies going to understand him if he gave instructions?
As Juanita took out the one on the floor, Ken stepped in and shoved his Glock under the chin of the other zombie. He knew there had been talk about conserving their bullets, but he wanted these walking bags of filth dead for good. Firing, there was a pulpy burst of brain and skull fragments as the bullet exploded out the top of the zombie’s skull.
Now that he was outside, Ken could get a better idea of what they were facing. At least a couple dozen undead were coming towards the house. His eyes caught sight of something that made him pause for just an instant. One of the undead was Hank Reynolds. The kid had been savagely torn apart by what had to have been several zombies. Most of his insides were now outside. The gaping hole in his middle was horrific to look at as organs that Ken could not begin to identify actually seemed to clog the hole in their quest to be dumped out and onto the ground. The entire left arm was torn away leaving nothing more than a stumpy nub of jagged bone.
