by Rosaria, A.
Albert nodded. Brenda and Derrick must have told him, but the way the grooves dug into his face and his hair seemed whiter, Ralph wondered if he had not seen it for himself already. It was a whole different thing hearing about them than seeing them. It became real when you saw one. However, the zombies didn’t matter with what they had to face now. Humans in the end proved to be more dangerous to their survival than the living dead. Get to a place remote enough and high enough, and it increased your survival rate against zombies because they sucked at climbing, even the evolved ones, but a human could still get to you.
The men and women started unloading the truck and gearing up. They brought all the good weapons with them. Each one had an assault rifle, only Derrick insisted on carrying his boomstick, and Ralph tugged Lauryn’s axe into his belt. She would want it back when he freed her. He kept the SMG he got from the soldier slung over his shoulder. He had enough ammo for it. Ralph kept the grenades for himself. Albert stashed on him the explosives to blow their way inside.
They all put on thick navy blue canvas BDUs, black boots fastened to the heels, Kevlar helmets on top, and thick leather gloves. They had found these in a police department they raided not so long ago. Their outfits only left part of their neck and face exposed, the only place zombie teeth could get to them. Normally, they would not gear up like this—it weighed them down—but they kept the gear for just this kind of occasion. Ethan passed them the body armor. This was the first time they would use it. The first time they would actively target humans.
They didn’t look like a rag-tag group of survivors anymore. They looked like a SWAT team going in for a drug bust. However, they were not law enforcement or soldiers. They were survivors, and in a way that made them much better, for they didn’t only face humans whose moves you could predict and plan for, but they also faced the dead, which were utterly unpredictable lately. You needed people who had experience surviving the horrors that were so common now days and lost the qualms about bashing a head in, be it friend or foe.
They got in the back of the truck, resting their weapons between their legs. Not talking. Each one in their own zone, thinking about whatever would get them through the day. The truck shuddered as it started. Albert sat behind the wheel. They hobbled on the road, nearing the red glow at the horizon where the walled town burned. They had no worries in being stopped. The people they were attacking were busy with the enemy within and had no eyes on the outside. Ralph smiled. They would never know what hit them, which made the payback that much sweeter, giving them in return what they had done to so many others. Death was what they deserved and that was what he was going to bring to them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Mr. Ward walked into the room. Sarah looked up from a book she was reading. Priss lay on the bed next to her, a wet snore the only sign she was alive. Since their talk, she had not woken and had slept right through the fighting going on around them. The gunshots had woken Sarah. She had been trying to read to distract herself from the fighting when Mr. Ward barged in.
“Get up. You need to go now.”
In his hands, he held an attaché briefcase. Sarah looked from it to his frantic eyes. She had never seen the otherwise stoic man act like this. Even when he was mad at her, he kept calm, but now any semblance of having it together was gone. Eyes wide, hands trembling, mouth twitching, he stood in front of her, his hands fidgeting with the suitcase.
“What’s going on?” Sarah asked.
“Don’t you hear? The whole place is going to hell. Now get up.”
Sarah’s eyes narrowed at the man. She checked and thanked God Priss still slept. The girl needed all the rest she could get.
“You’re going to wake her up.”
Mr. Ward ignored her and pushed the attaché suitcase in her hands. “She needs to wake up and you have to take her with you.”
“She shouldn’t get out of bed.”
Mr. Ward shook his head. “She goes.” He pointed at the suitcase. “In there is the extraction kit Captain Morgan needs. The last ones were at the health department, but the building went up in flames. Everything is lost but that one. You have to get it to Terry and take Priss with you so that she can get a shot as soon as the extraction is complete.”
The idea of walking with Priss through a town in turmoil made her uncomfortable, and knowing another life would be lost to save Priss made it worse. “Why don’t you take her yourself?”
Mr. Ward’s mouth twitched as he looked away. “I can’t leave my post. I need to lead the administration against the rebellion.”
If Sarah had not been there, he would not have a choice. No. She had seen it. Mr. Ward had been hesitant about the cure. He would have rather let things take their course. Why the change of heart? And push her to do it? Or was it exactly because she was here that allowed him that sliver of hope? Hope that Priss would be saved. Why lead Haven if he didn’t believe in the cure as a solution?
Priss stirred under the covers. Mr. Ward watched his daughter as he smoothed his immaculate clothes. A moan came from under the sheets. Startled, he backed away, pulling a 45cal pistol tucked at the small of his back. Sarah frowned and pulled the covers away from Priss, who rubbed her eyes against the sudden light. Mr. Ward sighed and lowered the gun, looking apologetically at his daughter who wasn’t even aware he was in the room.
Sarah helped the girl to sit. “Priss, open your eyes. We have company.”
Her eyes fluttered open. “Daddy?” She jumped out of bed. Her knees buckled, but she managed to stay up and stagger forward. Mr. Ward rushed to her and hugged her. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m feeling a little better now.”
From Mr. Ward’s stricken face, Sarah saw he didn’t believe his daughter. And from the paleness of the girl and the amount of blood on her pillow, neither did Sarah. Priss was still ill, coughing her lungs out while asleep, and as if to prove this, her friend started coughing.
Mr. Ward helped her sir back on the bed.
“Priscilla, I need you to get dressed and leave with Sarah.”
Priss nodded. “I’ll do that, Daddy.”
It physically hurt Sarah to see the girl so obedient and willing, even after her father nearly abandoned her. Although, she could not deny the man loved Priss.
Mr. Ward handed Sarah his gun. It felt heavy in her hand, and comfortable. “Keep my daughter safe, and make sure to reach Captain Morgan.”
He didn’t have to tell her. She would do anything to keep Priss from harm. “Don’t worry about that,” Sarah said.
The man stared at the pistol in her hands. “Take something else with you other than the gun. You may want to be silent and only use the gun as a last resort.”
That could only mean one thing. “Zombies?”
He didn’t answer her. His face told her everything. The place was going down fast—the infighting, the killings, of course there would be zombies. Everywhere humans died, the dead rose.
Sarah had slept in the clothes she had on the previous day. She could use a shower, but why bother if she was certain to get dirty again later in the day? No way she would end the day unscathed. A miracle would have to happen to make that possible.
Sarah tucked the gun at the small of her back. Priss had put pants on and a thick hooded fleece jacket. Sarah didn’t like having to push the girl. Whatever life she had left in her, pushing her would only bring her closer to death, and she was already so close.
“You’ll able to walk?”
Priss nodded. Of course she nodded. She wouldn’t tell her or show her fatigue if she could avoid it. Not ever wanting to displease anyone.
Before leaving the house, Sarah went out to the back, and got the knife from the backpack she had hidden. Later, if she got the chance, she would return for the backpack. Right now, it would only be a burden. The knife would do against zombies if it came to that. She’d keep the gun if faced against humans.
Mr. Ward accompanied them to the front door. He gave Priss a hug and offered his hand to
Sarah. After a short consideration, Sarah shook his hand. Odd that he avoided eye contact. The man wasn’t his usual authoritarian self.
“Thank you, Sarah, and I’m sorry for all this. I’m only doing this for my daughter.”
They said their goodbyes and left for the road, which was surprisingly deserted. She glanced over her shoulder. Mr. Ward still stood at the door, watching them with a long face. Maybe he wasn’t all that bad if he was worried about his daughter. Wouldn’t she have done anything to save her baby brother? She quickly pushed the memory back to where it came from, not wanting to cry.
In the alleyways, she saw shadows watching, and ahead, two soldiers walked. She turned to look back. Two more soldiers rounded a corner and followed her and Priss. Guess Terry sent them to make sure she arrived safely. With them watching her, she had little to worry about, but why not send a car? As they got closer to the barracks, she heard the turmoil of fighting increase. Shots were exchanged. The intensity kept growing. The rigid way the soldiers moved in front of her had a tense feeling to it. Those behind her closed the distance.
Sarah walked next to Priss, who kept silent, not looking up, and her eyes a few feet ahead on the asphalt. Sarah chose not to disturb the girl. It most likely took everything for her to walk. They were close now. Sarah recognized the buildings surrounding her. One more bend in the road and the barracks came into view. It stood intact. Soldiers manned the roof and every road to it was barricaded and had a unit guarding it. No one would get to the barracks without a heavy fight. Poor sods, who tried an assault, would not reach the place without sustaining heavy casualties. However, the bodies stacked near the entrance gave her pause. Well-defended, they had suffered their own casualties. And if it kept up, how long would they be able to keep the place secure?
Priss looked at Sarah. “I don’t like this. Can’t we turn back or just leave Haven?”
“Can’t do that, not until I get you fixed up and well.”
Priss’s eyes grew distant and moist. “I don’t want it,” she said with a trembling voice.
Sarah clenched her teeth, grabbed Priss by the elbow, and led her on. The choice was not theirs anymore. If they tried to run, the soldiers most likely would stop them, and she hadn’t come this far to stop now. Whoever they had captured was already doomed to die, so why not make the best of it and save Priss?
Priss didn’t struggle against Sarah. She didn’t have the strength to, and Sarah thought that Priss knew the truth that fighting against what was going to happen was futile. Sarah only hoped that Priss would forgive her for not trying. The barracks loomed over them. The door opened. A chill went down Sarah’s back as they stood in front of it.
It was the right choice, the only choice.
God forgive her, she went inside, leading Priss.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Unopposed, Ralph and his merry band reached the wall. From the other side, they heard gunfire and the occasional screams when someone got hit or bitten. This was going easier than he expected. However, things would change once they made their breach and joined the fray. No one could leave that shit unscathed.
Albert set the charge on the large door.
“Do you think that’s enough?” Ralph said.
Albert wiped his hands as he backed away from the door. “It will have to do. It’s all we got.”
Three bars of C4 had been put against the door, rigged with detonators. Albert ran to a safe distance and hid in a ditch for cover. Against the thick steel door, Ralph wondered if it would do anything. It would suck if it only left a dent. They’d be exposed outside. The sound would attract all the zombies for miles, adding to those already attracted by the gunfire.
“Hurry. Take cover,” Albert yelled.
Ralph joined Albert in the ditch a hundred yards from the door. Albert ducked and pressed the button igniting the charge. Nothing happened. Ralph looked at Albert whose face was slack. Ralph stood up to look.
“Get down, you fool,” Albert yelled.
Ralph looked down at the older man. He felt it before he heard it. The air sucked in, then came a whoosh and boom, then an invisible force hit him, sending his butt crashing to the ground. Ralph grunted in pain.
“You could have gotten yourself killed,” Albert said as he helped him up. “Come on, we need to go.”
Weapons drawn, they charged the still-standing door but it was bent inward, leaving enough space for them to worm their way in. Ralph’s ears whistled and his motions were awkward as he ran forward. He climbed through the hole after Albert and made it to the first house a few hundred yards from the wall. A gray two-story unattached home, with no windows on the first floor, only a sturdy door. Whatever protection the house gave its inhabitants from zombies, it did not offer them against the living. Smoke came from the top floor and soon the house would be burning, joining the many others already doing so.
A man rounded a corner, swaying, a beer bottle in one hand and a gun in the other. He stopped when he saw Ralph and raised his gun with a laugh. Ralph put his SMG to his shoulder, squeezed the trigger, and missed. The man’s shot went wide, and so did the second. The man clutched his gun with both hands, steadying his aim. Ralph pulled the trigger again. Clack! Gun jam. Ralph dropped his SMG, pulled Lauryn’s axe, and threw it. It whirled into the air in an arc and cleaved the man’s head.
“Good throw,” Brenda said, passing him.
Lucky throw more like it. It was his first axe kill. He ran up to the man and yanked the axe free. Everyone got through unharmed. No one else saw them. He joined his group gathered at the house.
“What’s the plan?” Albert said.
Everyone looked at Ralph. He had organized this raid, so they looked at him for direction.
“We need to get Lauryn out and trash this place so they won’t ever want to follow us.”
“They are already doing a great job trashing the place,” Albert said. “Serves them right for what they have done to us.”
Ralph remembered how these people had assaulted and killed Albert’s previous group, and how they took Sarah from him and left him for dead to be devoured by zombies. Sarah most likely died by their hands, and most likely the same fate awaited Lauryn. Not this time.
“We’ll try to capture a soldier or government official and make them tell us where Lauryn is. After we find her, we’ll destroy their helicopters.”
“We used all our explosives,” Albert said.
Ralph tapped his backpack. “I have some grenades left.”
“Guess that will do.”
Albert shook Ralph’s hand. “Well good luck to you, then.” Albert waved and ran back to the twin gate doors. He’d be the one keeping watch on their truck to keep it safe and ready for their grand escape.
Ralph signaled for them to move out. Single file, they kept close to the buildings and made their way deeper inside the district. The houses here were smaller than the ones they left behind, more shoddy looking, and most had smoke coming out from their upper windows. It looked like this place got hit hardest by the fighting.
Ralph raised a fist and they halted to a stop. Ahead, a group of eight zombies sauntered the opposite direction. A single female soldier stood with her back to a wall about to be boxed in. Rooted to the spot, she kept pulling the trigger of her carbine. With each click, the zombies inched closer.
Brenda broke free in the direction of the woman. Ralph grabbed her arm, stopping her. He shook his head and pointed in the other direction. They moved away, chased by the woman’s shrill screams and the wet tearing sound of ripping flesh.
“We could have saved her,” Brenda said.
She was right, they could have, but he chose not to. It would take too long, and why? So they could kill her later? Ralph kept walking.
“Ralph?”
Ralph pressed into a side street, pulling Brenda along and signaling the others to follow. Ahead, soldiers marched down the street toward the feasting zombies. Ralph and the others hid out of sight. When the soldiers started
shooting, Ralph pointed to the other side, away from the soldiers and gave the sign to move. One by one, they left the alley. He had no idea where they were going, and hated himself for that. They had to go on until they stumbled on someone or something that they could use.
Brenda lagged behind, Derrick tried pulling her along, but she refused, telling him to go on and she would follow. She barred Ralph from leaving the alley. Over her shoulder, he saw how the soldiers made short work out of the zombies.
“Why, Ralph?”
Ralph brushed her aside, grabbed her wrist, and ran. They didn’t have time for this. Brenda tried to yank free, and he shot her an angry look that made her stop. Brenda was a fine girl, but sometimes her age got the better of her. They caught up to the others. Ralph gently pushed Brenda into Derrick’s arms. “Watch over her.”
Brenda’s face was flush, and her lips trembled to say something, but she kept her mouth shut. The soldiers—two men down, but still six strong—were coming their way. Ralph had hoped he could avoid a confrontation this soon and against that many. His group had numerical superiority but these were trained soldiers.
He quickly scanned his surroundings. Ahead a road was blocked. To his right the road ended at a group fighting off a score of zombies. Their left was free, but was a long stretch with little to hide behind. Ralph ordered the men and women to take cover behind two wrecked cars.
The soldiers slowed their pace after spotting Ralph’s group. They must have mistaken them for citizens or else they would have attacked on sight.
“No one move before I give the signal. Derrick, keep Brenda behind cover and keep her quiet.”
Brenda tightened her eyes as she glared at him and slapped Derrick’s hands away. “I’ll behave. Just you take care and don’t do anything stupid.”
Ralph nodded, knowing he could not promise anything. He had passed a point of thinking things through. Now was the time to do or die. With everyone behind cover, he raised his hands high, palms facing out, and approached the soldiers. Sometimes the thing to do was the most simple and unsuspecting thing.
