by Perrin Briar
Shit! So close, and yet so far.
“We need to turn back,” Hugo said.
Dana shook her head. She was about as ready to turn back as she was to giving up on Max. Nowhere near.
“How do you think we’re supposed to get past them?” Hugo said. “Especially with Poe with us?”
“By a little trick I picked up recently,” Dana said.
She bent down and picked up a good-sized rock. She dashed forward and threw it. It flew a few dozen feet and smashed into the back windscreen of a Ford.
Nothing happened.
“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Hugo said. “They’re getting closer!”
“Help me throw rocks,” Dana said.
Hugo grunted and picked up some detritus. They threw their rocks and car parts, hurling them in an arc from their location. Why were none of the car alarm systems sensitive enough to go off? It was damn annoying!
Then, finally, one went off. Dana wasn’t sure if it had been caused by herself or Hugo, but a small Mini Cooper’s lights began to flash. The horn blared, honking and wheezing. As the sound reverberated, the other cars in its area began crying too.
Dana grabbed Hugo by the hand and dragged him behind a parked van. Hugo held Poe in his arms, rocking him gently. Dana was relieved Poe hadn’t seen the undead nor been privy to the predicament they were in.
The undead shuffled and groaned as they dragged their sorry asses toward the Mini Cooper. To destroy a complex piece of equipment they could not understand. The swarm passed as Dana, Hugo and Poe edged around the van, crouching down. They ran from one car to the next as the vehicles took the brunt of undead anger.
Chapter Fourteen
They didn’t stop running until they got to the single-lane 104 highway. They checked each abandoned car they came to. None of them worked. Then, finally, they came to an old Austin Allegro that started. It didn’t have a lot of fuel, but even a thimbleful would have been enough to get them from the danger zone they currently inhabited.
They were all of them tired, exhausted to their bones. It was the middle of the night, three or four a.m. by Dana’s reckoning. Hugo complained about being tired. Poe didn’t complain, but Dana could tell he was tired too. She herself, who had not even gotten a wink of sleep during the previous day’s afternoon nap, was fine. She was stoked by the sight of the helicopter.
Within a few miles, she began to drift off, coming dangerously close to the verge as her head dropped to the steering wheel. She decided to pull over and catch a few zs before they had an accident. She locked the doors and leaned back in the driving seat. If anything happened, she could turn the keys in the ignition, hit the gas, and be away in no time.
Hugo and Poe lay entwined in each other’s arms on the back seat. They could have been lovers. Dana was too tired to find it funny. A deafening silence came over the scene. She liked the idea they were in the middle of nowhere, that no one knew they were there. It was the last thought she had before she drifted asleep.
Dana had the strangest dream that night. A rolling landscape passed beneath her feet as if she were on a treadmill. The world kept moving around her, threatening to never come to an end. The scenery shifted and changed, first beginning as an autumn road. Then it gradually shifted, the trees losing their plumage, becoming bald. The snow was hard-packed lying two to three inches thick in some places. Then the darkness came. The world twisted in upon itself, consuming her and everything inside it.
She awoke with a constricted feeling wrapped around her throat. She gasped, attempting to breathe. She rolled and hit the ground. It was daytime, the sun was blazing hot. Spittle ran down Dana’s face as she fought to breathe. Her hands found something cold and hard against the skin of her neck.
“Gotcha,” a voice said.
It was an old face, unremarkable save for its obscene ugliness. The wiry woman held the end of a long, thick chain like a leash. Dana didn’t like the look of this one little bit.
Chapter Fifteen
The necklace was thick and bulky. No thought had been given to the wearer’s comfort. It was like something slaves used to wear. Dana struggled against her bonds, scratching at her neck with her nails. She was choking, hardly able to breathe. She tugged, pulling, jolting the something attached to her. And each time she struggled it only seemed to tighten her collar’s grip.
Undead were right on top of her. Dana pulled back, but they stood steadfast and strong. After Dana had expended her energy in trying to escape, the undead on either side grunted at her disruption. Dana attempted to speak, but nothing save a rasp came from her throat.
Dana was connected to Hugo on one side by the heavy chain, a zombie on the other. Hugo’s tongue lolled out of his mouth as he tried to speak, succeeding only in sounding like an undead. The undead around him seemed to be taking a great deal of interest in him. If he did manage to utter a single word, it would be the signature on his own death warrant.
Dana locked eyes on him and shook her head. Hugo understood. He followed her sightline to the undead on either side of them. They were turning their heads side to side in curiosity like dogs at an interesting new sound. Hugo quietened after that.
Dana and Hugo were attached to a long chain gang. Dana couldn’t get a good look but ascertained there to be a dozen of them in total. At the end of the chain, at the head, was the old woman. She held the handle, effectively controlling the undead chain gang. Currently, she was shouting at something located just off the road, on the fringes of the forest.
“Get away from here!” the old woman said. “Go!”
When Dana finally caught a glimpse of who she was talking to, it became clear it was Poe. He whined loudly, jiggling from one foot to another. He wouldn’t leave. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on Hugo and Dana.
“Git!” the old woman said.
She picked up a rock and threw it at Poe, so it skimmed across the ground at his feet. Poe jolted back, shocked by the rock. If he could speak, if he could just tell the old woman they were not zombies, she might let them go… But try as he might, Poe simply could not mutter the words Dana so desperately needed for him to say.
The old woman picked up another rock and chucked it. This one hit the ground too and skimmed across it. Poe shied away from it, terrified. Then, getting the message, turned and headed back into the woods. There went their only chance of getting out of there.
“Right,” the old woman said. “Now that that’s over with, let’s take a little look at what we’ve got, shall we?”
She bent over Dana and Hugo’s backpacks and sorted through the items. She flicked through the paper and tossed it aside. Dana took a step toward it to pick it up, but the old woman was there to tug on the chain.
“No, no, no,” she said. “You can’t eat that.”
She kept all the food and other useful items, tucking them in the bag. Then she zipped it back up and put it on Dana’s back. She did the same with Hugo’s bag. It was then that Dana noticed the undead she was attached to also carried backpacks. They were carrying the old woman’s things.
“Please forgive my manners,” the old lady said. “My name’s Miranda. I’m the leader of these here ragamuffins. I hope you enjoy being with our little family. You might find me a strict master, but not without my charms.”
Miranda prattled on to herself, as well as to the undead around her. Usually, the undead recognized human speech and associated it with a delicious meal to come, but these undead on her chain gang evidently had grown used to her prattling. She struck Dana as the kind of woman this world was meant for: the mad.
She would bide her time, Dana decided. She would figure a way out of this predicament. She wouldn’t become someone’s slave. Not when she was so close to Max.
Chapter Sixteen
Miranda had taken them off road, walking within sight of the highway, but not part of it. Dana was willing to bet the old woman had once been a tall woman, graceful and powerful. But she was now hunched over and graying, hair frizzy and forgo
tten. She wore the remnants of a dress that had once sparkled in the top ballrooms of the world but had since become soiled, the sparkly bits spilling like fallen stars.
She actually led two chains of undead, one handle in either fist. The one Hugo and Dana were attached to was much longer, consisting of a greater number of undead. Occasionally Miranda had to tug on the chain to keep them moving. They appeared to be in worse shape than the other chain gang. Miranda seemed to walk at a ferocious pace. She scowled at the undead at the back of this chain, the figure at the end rasping and struggling to keep up. It staggered and lost its feet more than once.
The other chain consisted of a small collection of undead, just five members. Dana didn’t know how they got to be there, but she wished she could have been a part of the first-class crew.
And then she noticed something.
Even with their faces torn and bodies misshapen and emaciated, there was an obvious familial connection between them. They each sported a distinctive sloped forehead and distinctive cheekbones. Those were only the biggest clues. They were or had been, a family. Some people clearly found it difficult to let go of those they had lost, and so they trailed them around with them.
Then Dana fell to her knees, to the dirt. She was dragged along a few inches by those in front before they too fell over. Miranda was on them in an instant, striking them with a whip. It didn’t hurt, but the sound alone was terrifying.
Eventually, Dana, Hugo, and the other undead got to their feet. It was difficult with everyone jostling. The undead at the end of their chain gang, the one who had committed the sin of having fallen over, was still on the ground. Struggle as he might, he simply could not get to his feet, no matter how much Miranda shouted, spat, kicked and flayed at him. His femur had snapped clean in two. It was impossible for him to stand.
Finally, Miranda realized this undead was not going to regain his feet. She gave him another swift boot.
“Okay,” she said with the air of something giving up. “Dinner time.”
Kindness. About time. If the stick didn’t work, she was now going to try to the carrot. The poor creature needed some food to build up its strength. Dana shrugged. She must have known that no amount of food could heal a leg, especially not if it was rotten and decayed and belonged to an undead.
Miranda reached under her robes for something. She came out with an old metal key. She slipped it into the collar’s lock and turned it. The lock fell to the ground. Miranda tugged on the chain of second, smaller family group of undead she had. They came around the injured zombie and dug in.
The zombie did not feel pain, which was lucky indeed. It did grunt as its chest cavity was cracked open, its legs twitching when a nerve was bitten or a tendon tugged. Other than that, it made no sound. Only once the family zombies were done was Dana and Hugo’s chain of undead allowed to feed.
The remains were disgusting, blood smeared across the forest floor, the crime scene. The creature was somehow still alive, gazing up at those who would feed upon it and strip it to the bone. Its jaw had already been dislocated, tongue lolling out of its ruined face. Its fingers danced on the pale skin of those who fed upon it as if it was counting down the seconds till it could finally die. The worst thing was, Dana and Hugo couldn’t even watch from a distance. They were bound to these creatures. They were aggressive in their feeding habits and tugged Dana and Hugo close around them. They didn’t need to eat, but they couldn’t avoid having front row seats.
Finally, once the feeding frenzy had come to an end and nothing but bones were left, the undead stood. They were ready to move on. Miranda continued to walk, leading the undead on chains.
So that’s what they were. Walking takeout meals.
Their days were numbered. If they didn’t come up with a way to get away soon, they would be resigned to the same fate as their former comrade. A disposable lunch.
Chapter Seventeen
Miranda’s life was a constant foraging mission. She drifted through the woods checking game trails, wild berry bushes and traps she’d set. She often came away with nothing, or else something that had already been gnawed by wild animals. Occasionally they came to an abandoned lodge, and this was where Miranda found the majority of her food. She fed on tins from cupboards and items left in refrigerators.
Dana could see the old woman’s fate. She was reacting to what had happened to the world, not acting. There was a difference. If she could not learn to survive in a wilderness bountiful with potential meals, she would not live long. She had lasted this long thanks to circumstances. Unfortunately, Dana doubted they would be so lucky to see her die within the next few days, never mind hours.
While she ate, Dana and Hugo watched with hungry eyes.
“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” Miranda said.
Dana glanced up. Had she noticed the hungry human look in their eyes? The intelligence within them? Her hopes were dashed when she found Miranda facing one of her family member zombies. She was in her mid-to-late forties by Dana’s reckoning, though it was difficult to tell under all the grime.
“You don’t like peaches,” Miranda said. “I know, I know. But these aren’t fresh.”
She paused as if listening to something the young zombie was saying. Dana could testify she did not say a single word.
“Why should you always be the one to get what you want?” Miranda said. “You always do. Mom and Pop always did treat you better. Just because you’re the baby of the family. Well, I don’t care. I’m eating these peaches, and that’s it. You’ve already eaten.”
Another pause. Miranda rolled her eyes.
“No,” she said. “I don’t think I’m better than you. I just want what’s fair.”
She growled, hissing through her teeth. She tossed the tin at her younger sister. It bounced off her head and rolled across the ground. Dana and Hugo couldn’t take their eyes off it.
“I’m sorry!” Miranda said, rushing to her younger sister. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry!”
She wrapped her arms around her undead sister, hugging her close. She kissed her on the dent she had just put in the middle of her forehead.
“I’ll fix it,” Miranda said. “I promise it’ll look at good as new.”
She took a small sewing kit out of her inner pocket and set to stitching the gash.
“The thread’s blue,” Miranda said. “You always liked blue.”
She ran her hand through her little sister’s matted hair. She took a comb out of her pocket and combed it. Dana had never seen such a sad scene before. Miranda wasn’t a bad person. She was just trying to do the best she could under very difficult circumstances. It still didn’t change the fact they were stuck the way they were, but at least she could understand Miranda wasn’t a monster.
Miranda began to sob. She clutched her sister close. She pulled a small knife from her front jacket pocket. Miranda raised it, pulling her sister’s head back, exposing her neck… And then relented. She couldn’t kill her. She kissed her again on the forehead and hugged her, rocking gently.
Miranda dusted off her skirt and began walking again, tugging on the chains. Both Dana and Hugo made a grab for the empty tin, taking turns to wipe their finger around the inside, getting all the sweet juice they could from it. It wasn’t enough. It couldn’t sustain them. They needed real food if they were to have any hope of survival.
They didn’t wander far from the house after that. Dana suspected it was where Miranda would stay the night. She was proven right as, just as the sun was beginning to set, she turned the two chain gangs back. She hooked their chains to a pole and headed inside.
Dana edged to where their chains were fastened, but the undead wouldn’t allow her to get anywhere near it. She pulled, but they still wouldn’t come. She choked as she attempted to force them to follow her. Hugo aided her, sensing what it was she wanted to do and helped pull the undead in the direction they wanted. Still, they would not come. Some sat down, acting as human anchors.
&
nbsp; Exhausted and not knowing what else they could do to influence the zombies they were attached to, Dana sat on her ass hard. Hugo sat beside her. What were they going to do? If they could show Miranda they were alive, uninfected, perhaps she might let them go. Or she might not. But their situation couldn’t get much worse than it already was.
Hugo tapped Dana on the shoulder. She had to turn her whole body to look at him. He gestured to the ground at their feet.
What’s she doing? Hugo had written.
Dana used her finger to write.
Beats me. Wacko
How do you think Poe is?
He’s fine. Us, worry
We need to get out of here.
How?
She has a key. Get that, and we can set ourselves free.
Dana pointed at her previously written word. How?
I don’t know. But we have to. Somehow.
Dana sighed and stared at the night sky. The stars were blinking and bright. It was beautiful. Her thoughts drifted to Max. She was near here somewhere. She might have been within just a few miles. She could have been looking at this exact sky.
Dana had come all this way. Her fingers fiddled with the bracelet Max had made for her. It matched the one Max wore. She was so close. She couldn’t let the situation defeat her now.
Chapter Eighteen
The next morning, Dana awoke with her face pushed hard into the dirt, making tiny impressions in her skin. She vaguely recalled a bang, the same bang that had awoken her. Miranda came marching down the path, the front door of the house still swinging closed.
“Good morning there, Christians!” she said, filling her lungs with fresh air. “How about we do some fresh recruiting today? After Gage left us, we have an opening to fill.”
