Four (Their Dead Lives,1)

by Scott, Zack

  Slamming the car in reverse, Jeff crushed several bodies beneath its wheels. There were thuds everywhere, and mouths dripped hungrily for him and Sadie. His hand, so full of sweat, slipped on the steering wheel, but he kept driving, ramming anything in his way.

  As he made his escape out the gas station, as howling corpses clawed at the sedan from every direction, Jeff hoped his friends were better off.

  ALEC

  We’re dead.

  Nicole’s scent usually calmed him but nothing could ease his mind as those dead things clawed at the office door. He and Nicole stood together at the back of the office. As for the six other people in front of them, Erica burrowed into Tommy’s arm, Brian loaded his shotgun, while Deputy Miller checked his remaining ammo, and Kale and Howard were cuffed, helpless, and useless. Still drunk like me.

  Moans, growls and thuds pressed against the door. The hinges creaked and its wood bowed inward.

  “We need a way out,” Miller told Brian.

  “No shit.” Brian circled the office, frowning grimly, but soon formed a smile. The air vent! One shotgun blast broke the grate open. “Everyone in!” he commanded.

  A piece of wood from the door frame snapped, flying into the office and smacking Kale in the face. “Dammit!”

  Brian stayed close to the door as a zombie tried to squeeze its head in the new crack. It hissed at him and Brian screamed back. A pump, a blast, the face vanished in a splatter of blood, along with a chunk of the door. There was no sight of the rest of the bar, only a sea of rotten flesh fighting to swarm their refuge. “Alec, lead them out. You remember the way to the roof, yeah?”

  Alec nodded. Though they were drunk the one time they ventured into the vents, he recalled the path easily enough. He touched his brother’s shoulder and their eyes connected for a brief second. “Be right behind us.”

  Brian nodded, giving a quick affirmation.

  Alec heaved himself up in the vent and ensured that Nicole was right behind him. Although tight, the vent had enough room for his broad shoulders to slip through. It was a short crawl. A few turns later and he kicked open the grate covering the exit to the roof. The night, cold as ever, was filled with the haunting moans of the walking dead. Undead. Zombies, mothereffin’ zombies. As the chilly air cooled their skin, Alec grabbed Nicole, his fingers tight on her shoulder, and pressed his lips to hers. Our last night, perhaps. “I love you,” he said firmly.

  “I love you.” Her voice was just as strong.

  Erica came out next. Tommy followed. Kale squirmed his way out, his hands bound behind his back. Alec reached in and helped his friend maneuver. Howard came next, assisted by Deputy Miller, and finally...Alec waited to see his brother’s face.

  Brian. Where is Brian?

  He grabbed Miller’s shirt, forgetting he was a man of the law. “Where’s my brother?”

  “He was holding them off; he should’ve been right behind—”

  Alec shoved Miller aside and climbed back in the vent.

  “Wait!” Nicole rushed forward and grabbed his arm before he lowered all the way into the vent.

  “I have to help him.”

  “I know. I love you.”

  He kissed her again, wishing it could last longer, wishing it could last forever. Before disappearing in the vent, he locked eyes with Kale.

  “We leave as four,” his once good friend said, his voice strong and confident.

  Alec left without another word.

  He crawled fast, faster than before. He could hear the shotgun blasting. He kept crawling. The sounds of the shotgun became deafening. The last stretch of the vent came around the corner. Another blast. Hold your ground, Brian. I’m coming! He made the last turn and the office was yards away. One last blast. He heard the shotgun tumble from Brian’s hands and clatter on the floor. His brother leapt, pressing himself against the vent. He struggled to make the climb, losing his grip and slipping backwards.

  The office door caved in. A few moans drifted into the office.

  Brian must’ve killed most of them.

  Alec’s brother slipped toward his death and just as he was about to fall back into the office, Alec grabbed his arms. Brian’s eyes shot wide with relief and fear. Alec tugged with all his strength. Dead hands clutched at Brian’s leg and refused to let him go. He’s mine! Alec clenched his teeth, growled, and pulled.

  “Leave me!” Brian tumbled and vanished from his younger brother’s hold, knocking two of the last three zombies over. The largest stayed standing, wearing dirty overalls. Overalls never noticed Alec peeking out from the vent. Overalls wanted his brother.

  Never. Alec launched from the vent, slamming down on the large creature. They both landed on the wooden desk. Somehow Alec ended under Overalls. Pinned again. The table legs wobbled. Overalls grabbed his shirt, nails digging through fabric. A tug and a slam. Another. The creature growled. Table legs kept wobbling.

  In the corner of the small office, Brian kicked and screamed as two other zombies scrambled for him. One wore a bandana, the other a glowing nose ring; both were much smaller than Overalls. Brian nailed Bandana in the cheek as he scrambled backwards. Dazed and confused, the zombie fell over. Brian dove for the shotgun on the floor and swung it back, cracking Nose Ring in the face. The zombie hissed, unfazed by the blow. Alec wanted so badly for Brian to shoot their brains out. We need infinite ammo. Nose Ring lunged for his brother again, wrapping its hands around his ankle. Brian shook his leg and whacked at it with the gun, but it wouldn’t let go. Its mouth darted for his leg. His pants had ridden up, revealing his hairy flesh, ripe for the devouring. And as its teeth inched in, the legs of the desk Alec was pinned on finally gave out. The desk snapped apart.

  Pain shot through Alec’s back as the he smashed to the floor, but he deftly ignored it.

  A chunk of wood splintered from the wreckage and skittered to Brian. His brother grabbed it, contemplated it for a moment, then stabbed it like a broken stake into Nose Ring’s head before its teeth could close around his flesh. The relief in his eyes lasted for only a second, quickly extinguished by the sight of another ravenous zombie.

  Bandana was ferociously fast unlike Nose Ring and Overalls. A fresh corpse, a sprinter. It swung its arms like propellers, angling its claws for Brian’s face.

  Overalls had fallen on top of Alec after the desk snapped apart. Its body outweighed Alec’s own by a good forty pounds. Its wet smelly weight made Alec gag.

  To Alec’s side, Bandana ravaged Brian. Its nails clawed his skin, shredding his cheek. Its teeth shot for his neck but Brian blocked with the stake, and the zombie’s teeth clamped around the wood.

  Fight. Alec shoved and shoved and kicked and kicked, but Overalls wouldn’t budge. Stuck in place, neither party moved in any direction. Then Overalls got a hand on Alec’s face, shoving him down against the desk, as if he were being forced to watch his brother fight for his life.

  Bandana tugged the stake from Brian’s hand, spat it out, and launched another bite at Brian just as Brian swung a fist into its face. Bandana tumbled away from Brian’s legs and he finally was able to kick to his feet. He rushed over and launched his shoulder into Overalls, freeing Alec.

  Standing together, the brothers looked at one another, almost smiling. “Let’s go,” said Brian. “This place is done.”

  Bandana had risen silently behind them. Alec noticed first. “Brian!”

  Crooked teeth sunk into his brother’s shoulder.

  Brian screamed, shoved a hand back, and dug a finger into Bandana’s eye. Alec charged and pulled the zombie off his brother, causing Bandana to fall on the floor, still chewing on a piece of Brian’s fat. You motherfucker. Alec shoved Bandana into the wall, punched its face twice, let go, dropped for the stake, and just as Bandana dropped too, he stabbed. The stake jutted through Bandana’s mouth, impaling through its tongue, stopping short of the brain. Its mouth was frozen open around the wood as it kept swinging and clawing.

  Chomping ferociously for Alec, ignorant to the s
take, Bandana bit its way to the end of its afterlife.

  Alec heaved and choked over the slain corpse. Then Brian screamed.

  Overalls held Brian aloft, burying its mouth into his ravaged chest. No, no, no! Alec flung to his feet and pulled his brother back. Teeth shredded more of Brian’s skin off.

  Alec let go, for Overalls had won the tug-o-war. Turning frantically, dripping with sweat, Alec got the shotgun, and ran around Overalls as it fed on his brother. With the shotgun held like a club, he swung at the creature’s head.

  Brian collapsed to the ground: legs bent, arms sprawled.

  Overalls turned back, groaning, staring down at Alec, who kept his sweaty hands tight around the shotgun. In a headlong charge, Overalls flung at him. He dodged to the side, and the zombie's massive head broke through plaster wall. Alec swung at its leg, making it stumbled. A swing to the other leg, and Overalls fell to its knees, and then clawed at the wall to help itself stand. The shotgun attacked its back, its neck, its head. Crush that skull, crush it for Brian. Alec swung, swung, and swung. An exploding crack and the walls were sprayed by bloody bits of skull and brain. Drenched in zombie pieces, Alec kept swinging until Overalls’ body fell on its side. He swung some more.

  Finishing, Alec wiped blood from his face and glanced back, forcing himself to look at Brian. His brother was sprawled—his chest ripped open—in a spreading pool of blood. His skin was so pale; Alec knew he'd already died.

  Alec kicked Overalls’ corpse twice, cursing it. He wiped tears and brain chunks from his cheeks and stepped to his brother’s dead body, dragging the shotgun. Averting his eyes, he pressed a hand to his trembling lips. It can’t be, not him. Fighting reality, Alec rushed to the air vent and grabbed it. Brian. He hesitated to climb in, to flee. You still have Nicole, you still have her. Send Brian on, then keep her safe. He looked back at his brother. His fingers shook around the shotgun. Brian would turn, Alec believed. You must smash his skull in. He stepped to the body but quickly turned and grabbed his mouth again, whimpering. Vomit. He wanted to; he needed to. Dry heaves shook his body. He had nothing to release. Saliva stuck to his palm as he removed his hand from his mouth, knowing he had to let his brother rest in peace. Do it. You must. He knelt by the body, eyes a frozen death. Touching Brian’s cheek, he kissed his shaved head. “I love you, brother,” he said, feeling as if his words meant nothing since his brother would never hear them.

  Eyes burning, stomach turning, Alec knelt and raised the shotgun over his own head. Two deep breaths and he did what he had to. Brian’s skull didn’t crack on the first swing, so he had to try again. And again. And he kept swinging until his brother’s skull was a pool of splattered meat. The veins in Alec’s neck bulged, his eyes igniting with fury. He struck down again and again at the unrecognizable mush. The lights in the bar flickered to darkness as pieces of his brother sprayed all around him.

  Silence. No movement, no moans. The black room was left empty, but then came Alec’s harrowing screams.

  SCOT

  Stretching out the upside down SUV’s window, Scot’s skin pressed against shattered glass, cutting into him. Half his body was on cement. Behind him, Angela was squished from his sight, crushed by the tree. Her severed arm lay against his numb ankle, which was trapped under the dashboard. He pressed up onto his forearms, fighting to breathe. Let this nightmare end now.

  Angela. Dead. The thought had minimal impact on him. Perhaps she would become a vanishing thought. My mind. It was a pathetic, empty crater, devoid of love and hope. His eyes were ready to cry, his heart was ready to sleep, but neither tears nor rest would come.

  Heat flushed at his side. Fire from the burning bus spread. It was the same bus that had crashed into his SUV and killed his girlfriend. Just outside the bus lay the corpse of the bus driver still in uniform. The man had burned alive earlier. Trapped, Scot had been forced to watch his burning death. The sound of the man’s shrieks as his skin melted would never leave his mind.

  A small flame still licked at the driver’s back.

  Scot tugged at his own leg a couple more times, but as with most things in his pitiful life, he gave up quickly. His head dropped to his fists and trembles ran through his entire body. Block this world from my eyes. Despairing, his forehead dropped even further, down to cement. He felt a stabbing pain in his leg, and his shaking finger grazed a glass shard that had impaled him. Great. He needed something better to consume his mind.

  Something lovelier, wetter, softer.

  Scot dreamed of a land full of sunshine, hopping bunnies, hairstylists handing out plenty of haircuts, and of course, lustful ladies.

  How he loved lustful—

  A light moan reached his ears. An anguished moan. Not his own. The burnt bus driver slapped one palm down on the street and his crisp torso pushed up. A toasted thigh raised. A dead back cracked to a standing position.

  Another moan.

  Scot, hoping this was all in his head, blinked several times. There was no waking from the nightmare. The driver stumbled around before its steps became more confident. The footsteps grew closer to Scot’s ears. He slid his face across the cement to look again, and to make sure he was awake. Fuck balls. He was awake.

  Another moan.

  Scot’s eyes widened but he kept his face pressed down and his body still, hoping the driver couldn’t see him if he didn’t move. Please be like ‘Jurassic Park,’ please be like ‘Jurassic Park.’ This was not fiction. The driver’s dead eyes locked onto him. It moaned with hunger at the sight of the immobile Scot.

  Scot lifted his chin. You. Have. Got. To. Be. Shitting. Me.

  The driver outstretched its arms and its stumble grew into a shambling run. Scot tugged furiously at his leg, biting his lip, fighting to break free from his trap. The steps grew closer. He scrambled around for any kind of weapon. The driver was only two yards from the SUV, two yards away from finishing what the bus had started. Scot’s eyes landed on the glass shard in his thigh. He blocked out the world again—sight, sound, smell, gone—and he pulled, clenching his jaw against the pain. Hot tears shed from his eyes as the glass sliced out of his skin, warm blood soaking his jeans. His eyes locked to the wound, watching a stream of blood squirt out. It made him queasy. Stay strong, stay here. His hand spasmed and he dropped the shard, his body giving out at the sight of his wound. This. Is. Not. Happening.

  The driver lunged for him. The shard!

  The night twisted and turned, stinking of decay. What? What? The glass shard was in his hand, cutting into his palm. The end of it was jammed in the driver’s skull. How the hell? Burnt flesh was pressed against him and he nudged to get the smell away. He left the shard in the driver’s head and rolled the corpse. Get off me, you stinky bitch. Collapsing back down to cement, Scot tugged his leg. He tugged harder the second time. He tugged the hardest the third. He cried for an escape.

  None to be had.

  Helpless, he stared at the driver who’d come back to life: a zombie. Homer wasn’t kidding. And Kale must be loving this. Both of them would want to save the world and they would want Scot’s help. I can’t even save myself. So he lay there. Trapped. Alone. Scared. His eyes shut and he figured he should just sleep.

  More moans floated out of the darkness. No, please no. Whatever higher power is out there, just, just please, no. He opened his eyes and strained to see; his only source of light was the flaming bus. In the distance he saw silhouettes, stumbling and moaning, searching for food. I will not be your tasty treat!

  He tugged. He tugged some more. He kept tugging the same way, meeting the definition of insanity. Silhouettes grew closer. A glass shard would do nothing to protect him. He might get lucky and take out one like he did before. I don’t possess the skills to kill a flock of rotting assholes. He lifted up on his elbows and faced his foes. They shambled straight for him, orange from the fire at their side.

  Go AWAY, he pleaded, knowing his pleas would not be answered. This was his end.

  How he wasted his life. He had aban
doned his friends, fled his lover, fucked around, and drank, and fucked around some more. And drank, drank, drank. They always say life is short, but I never thought this short. He craved so many things at this moment: to be successful, to be with Kelsey, to make his parents proud. In seconds, it would all be eaten away, piece by piece, along with his own flesh. Without a plan, he grabbed the shard using his gushing hand and yanked it from the driver’s skull. Blood ejected, just as it had from his leg. He gagged at the grisly sight. I can’t take it!

  He screamed at the silhouettes, “You want me, fuckers? Come fucking get me, you motherfucking fucks!” The swearing and yelling? Pointless. Their minds were void of more feelings than his own. But he had to pump himself up; adrenaline shot through his body. He waved the shard around as the silhouettes maintained their hunt. “Come on! Come on!” He slammed a fist down. Again, and again. He raised his fist for one more triumphant pound but a tree branch fell, smacking him across his head. His chin crashed hard onto cement. The shard slid from his limp grasp. His mouth hung open slack. Silhouettes became blurs. A higher power mocked him. Death by tree branch, he laughed as his eyes sank heavily for sleep.

  Before the dead could recruit him, a sedan sped to his rescue.

  SADIE

  Demons reveal themselves from the shadows, but the Dark Dragon looks over me.

  Back when she was a kid, Sadie had created an entity to keep her safe from the evils of this world: the Dark Dragon. She’d even gotten a few of her friends to believe in It. But never Nicole or Kelsey. Many people — then and now — didn’t understand her beliefs, thought she was just some crazy gothic chick. But black clothes were worn to honor the Dragon.

  And now, more than ever, she had to believe in the protection of Its fire.

  From the backseat of the sedan, Sadie yelled, “Why are you stopping? Run them over again!”

  Jeff clenched the steering wheel, looking at the bloodied crowbar on the passenger seat. Bits of flesh clung to the end of it. “Stay here.” He grabbed the crowbar and rushed out the door. With two death walkers crushed by the sedan, his crowbar went to work on the remaining three. One struggled to stand, having been nicked by the car. Not on his watch, Sadie knew. All mighty in his fight, he swung the crowbar like a golf club, ripping through its face with one blow, destroying the life source.