by Perrin Briar
Miranda took up the pair of chains and led the rows of undead back into the forest. She had a spring in her step and sang at the top of her voice. She resorted to making up her own lyrics when she failed to remember them.
They came to a stop. They were standing on a slight bluff of hill that overlooked a wide clearing. Inside it, standing there with no apparent purpose, were a trio of undead. They wore lumberjack gear and seemed confused about their current location.
Miranda took off down the shallow incline at a brisk jog. It was difficult for Dana to keep her feet.
“Sorry to keep you all waiting,” Miranda said to the vagrant undead. “But we’re running a little behind this morning. I hope you will forgive us.”
The undead turned to her and, seeing a speaking, breathing person, immediately headed in her direction. Miranda was fast, the blades slicing the air. She removed the first undead’s head like it was a flower’s stem, then moved to take on the next undead. She stabbed this one in the chest and pinned it to a tree, before then whirling in an inferno of aggression and removing its head from its shoulders too. She immediately turned to face the final undead. With this one, she played more defensively. She swept its feet out from under it and fastened a collar around its neck. The undead kicked and fought against its restraints, but Miranda was no longer interested in it. She backed away and let it struggle against Dana’s chain gang.
Miranda tutted at herself as she lifted the cuff of her dress to expose a cut. She had been hurt. By one of the undead. The virus would infect her. That meant she would turn, and soon. Dana’s heart fell when Miranda tore the sleeve of her dress off to expose the intricate crisscross pattern of a dozen such grazes. This was not the first time Miranda had been cut or even bitten, as more of the unsightly disfigurements on her flesh demonstrated.
She’s Resistant like us, Dana thought. That was why her undead paid no attention to her. Otherwise, they would have been chomping at the bit to get to her flesh. Then why hadn’t she thought there might be other Resistants out there too? How did she not know she and Hugo were like her? Dana saw a ray of light in their predicament. If she could wave at Miranda, could show she could write in the dirt…
“Eat up,” Miranda said.
Dana took a step forward, but the undead dragged her away. Miranda let her zombified family eat the decapitated undead pinned to the tree, and left the other to Dana and Hugo’s conga line.
Dana focused every effort on considering a method of escape. As each day ticked by and they didn’t eat, they would get weaker. Their chances of escape would eventually fall to zero.
They were on the edge of the sprawling Olympic Park woodland. The huge forest inside which Max was being held captive. Dana could rescue her and get her away from this place if she could only get away herself.
Then a thought occurred to her. Miranda didn’t have to set them free. They didn’t need to wait for her to die either. Dana could easily get the key off her unmoving corpse and use it on the manacle at her neck to escape. It was with this sudden rush of panic that she might never escape that Dana picked up a big rock and headed in Miranda’s direction. She had her back to her.
If she could smash in her skull all this distraction would be over. Dana could get on with finding her little sister Max. But the undead were insatiable when it came to feeding, and pulled her back. Dana jolted, losing the grip she had on the rock. It hit the ground.
Dana couldn’t get close enough to her captor. Miranda would live for now.
Chapter Nineteen
Miranda recruited three more undead to her chain gang by the time she sat down for lunch. Once again, stomach rumbling, Dana, and Hugo stood staring hungrily at the meal Miranda shoved down her throat.
She sighed after that and swayed slightly on the exposed tree root she had chosen to sit on. She blinked, eyes heavy. She slid gently off and lay down on the other side. Within moments, snores erupted from her throat. The zombies had clearly gotten used to Miranda’s habits and chose to sleep too. They snoozed in standing positions.
Dana poked Hugo. He was exhausted too. Frankly, so was Dana. She could think of no better time to attempt an escape. She didn’t even need to drop a rock on Miranda to do it. She couldn’t reach her from their current location anyway. The funny thing about the undead while they slept was they constantly shuffled their feet. They often turned in circles, as if not quite knowing which way to go. It was the perfect time to steer and lead them in whichever direction you wanted them to go.
Dana edged forward slowly, Hugo on her heels. The undead on their chain gang grumbled and murmured under their breath. They weren’t words, but random noises. As she and Hugo edged forward inch by laborious inch, the undead followed in their footsteps. Dana was moving to the stake Miranda had brought with her and used to keep the undead in place. It was a metal ring that protruded from the ground. No way the undead could remove it. They needed a level of conscious intelligence that they simply did not have.
Miranda mumbled in her sleep, the words unintelligible. Finally, Dana’s fingertips reached the metal ring. She got down on her knees, except they couldn’t quite reach the ground, and hovered. She was hanging by her neck. She returned to her feet and gestured for Hugo to step closer. He did, crouching as he did so, giving Dana the extra few inches she needed.
Dana hooked her fingers around the handle Miranda used to guide the zombies. She pulled on it, but it wouldn’t give. She’d really shoved it deep into the earth. Dana’s chain pulled taut and didn’t make a sound. The other undead continued shuffling, their chains making light clinking noises. It was calming, soothing. At least, to someone fast asleep it might be.
Hugo pulled an undead toward him to make it easier for Dana to pull at the chain. The undead growled under his breath, irritated at having been awoken from his slumber.
“Ng?” Miranda said, bolting up into a sitting position.
She scanned the area with half-lidded eyes. From her angle, she would have seen the backs of the zombies, Dana and Hugo hidden by their shuffling bodies. She fell back to sleep.
Dana concentrated on the chain, gripped it in both hands and rose to a squat. Her weakened, malnourished arms shook as she pulled. Slowly, the spike began to withdraw from the earth. Dana was careful to ensure it made no noise as she unhooked the handle and lay the spike back on the ground.
Now, she had a choice. Did she lead the undead away, or did she take them in the direction of Miranda so she could get her hands on the key that would unlock her from her collar? The second option was sorely tempting, but Dana couldn’t bring herself to do that. Miranda would panic and possibly lash out. She would awaken, and Dana would still be unable to remove her collar. She didn’t like that outcome one little bit.
Instead, she led the undead conga line into the forest. It was still daylight. They continued at that pace, slow and steady and shuffling until they were out of Miranda’s sightline.
Dana and Hugo turned to the other undead to wake them. They could move a lot faster if they were awake. The undead grunted as Dana slapped them across the face. They were still half asleep, a couple already beginning to drift off again. They would soon wake up once they started their slow, relentless jog through the forest.
Dana didn’t know how she was going to get her collar off. Right then, she didn’t care. She just wanted to keep moving. Hope sprung in Dana’s chest. They were going to make it. They were going to escape!
Chapter Twenty
They jogged until the sun began to set, turning the world into a light twilight. The undead on the other end of the chain were weak. They were in poor shape and stumbled every few feet. Dana hadn’t really taken much notice of it, or them, before, but now that she needed them to just keep going, she couldn’t take her eyes off them.
Dana kept checking over her shoulder. She saw no sign of Miranda. Good news. But if they didn’t find food and water, or better yet, a way to remove their collars soon, they aren’t going to be able to keep moving. Her hung
er was a beast in her breast. She didn’t like to think what would happen once the zombies got desperately hungry and there was nothing to eat but Dana and Hugo.
Then, up ahead, rising like it was emerging from the ground itself, a log cabin appeared. Dana hastened her pace. Please let there be food inside.
Dana felt a jerk, near strangling her. She looked back to find one of their gang and tripped and fell. Dana stirred the others into rising. They did, slowly, and began walking again. This time it was much harder. When Dana looked back, she could see why. The zombie who had fallen had struck his head. Blood spilled from his skull. They dragged him a few inches, and then a few more, but it was going to be tough getting him to the cabin.
The cabin.
There must be knives or some other way for them to cut and release the dead weight hanging from them right then. It might be tough, but they needed to keep going. With ten of them pushing on, the single dead zombie dragged behind them. He seemed to catch on every protrusion and bulging boulder.
They got to the front door. Dana pushed it open and proceeded inside. The room that welcomed her was large, with high ceilings. Something rich city dwellers would buy or rent, Dana thought. She moved toward the large arched doorway she knew would lead to the kitchen. She was famished. She was sure Hugo had to feel the same. She reached for the first cupboard she came to and discovered a large stack of tins. Jackpot.
Dana grabbed one, checked the top and found it needed a can opener. She had no time for that. She put it back and selected another one, and another until she came to a tin of corned beef. Once upon a time, she’d loathed this stuff. Now, it was manna from heaven.
She pulled the little key off and inserted it into the tab on the side. She twisted the key until she’d removed a strip. She pulled the top off and slapped the tin against her hand, the meat falling into her palm. She took a great bite of it and chewed, a mistake as her collar didn’t allow her to swallow much, nor chew for that matter.
Hugo extended a hand. Dana handed him some of the meat. It didn’t matter to him that it had touched her dirty hands, that it was squashed from having been gripped so tightly between her fingers. It was food. He gorged on it the same way Dana had.
Dana reached back into the cupboard to find another tin. Fruit would be good. Or baked beans. Just a moment ago she would have licked any kind of food off the floor given half a chance. Now, she was deciding what she wanted next.
Hugo gestured to the bottles of water. Dana grabbed one and handed it to him. Then she got her own and washed the taste of corned beef out of her mouth. It was enough, for now. They would eat more once they got their collars off. But right then, that was their most pressing need. To get their damn collars off.
The door opened, and two men stepped inside.
They were halfway through a conversation when they appeared, turned, and looked at—to them—the dozen undead standing in their kitchen. A body, dripping blood, lay dead or unconscious on the hallway floor.
“What the hell?” one of the men said. “Get the hell out of our food!”
The first man hefted an axand launched forward. He swung it, burying it in the neck of the first zombie. He planted his foot on the creature and pushed it back. The zombies, driven mad by rage, leapt forward.
Dana and Hugo grabbed handfuls of the chain and pulled, holding the undead back. The lead zombie, now with its head resting on its chest, hung suspended over the ax-wielding man, who had tripped and hit the floor. The zombie’s blood splattered over him. The stink of iron hung thick in the air.
The second man, still standing at the door, stared at his friend, soon to have his throat torn open by the undead if it had anything to say about it.
“Help me!” his friend on the floor said.
The second man looked at the other zombies. Snarling, angry. His will failed. He turned to run out the door and was immediately knocked onto the ground by five undead, who tore into him the same way the other dead were now doing to the man on the kitchen floor. Dana and Hugo could not keep ten undead at bay, especially not when they were baying for blood. The two men’s screams filled Dana and Hugo’s ears. They turned away, unable to watch.
A figure stepped into the log cabin. It was Miranda. She took in the scene. She showed no emotion. She followed the trail of chains to Dana and Hugo, who were still clinging to them, not that they were doing much good.
Miranda stepped over the feeding frenzy and crouched before Hugo and Dana. Her eyes flicked from one face to another. What she saw there shocked her.
“Are you… human?” she said.
Relief flooded Dana’s body. Tears alighted in her eyes, burning and painful. She nodded.
“We’d best get those collars off you then, don’t you think?” Miranda said.
Chapter Twenty-One
“I can’t believe you’re still alive,” Miranda said. “You look just like them. The undead, I mean. And you acted like them too.”
Having a collar firmly choking you off will make you look like a zombie, Dana wanted to bite back, but she resisted. The last thing they needed right now, before Miranda had quite finished removing their collars, was to make her angry. She’d seen her talking to herself and didn’t need to send her into schizo mode.
The moment her collar was removed, Dana sucked in a huge breath. She savored moving freely. Each time she moved her head, she thought something was about to snap and pull her back again. Hugo rolled his neck and shoulders once his collar had been removed.
“Better?” Miranda said.
“Much,” Hugo said. “Thank you.”
Miranda nodded. Dana didn’t thank her. She didn’t know what she would be thanking her for. Locking her up and enslaving her? Or perhaps dragging her ass around for the past few days and almost starving her to death?
“How did you end up here?” Hugo said.
“Let me apologize first in case I don’t explain myself very well,” Miranda said. “I haven’t spoken to a real person, a living person that is, in a long time. Before all this, my family and I, we tend to get together every so often. Usually once a year if we could manage it. Sometimes not all of us could meet, but the ones who can, come here. We rent out the same log cabin on the other side of the forest. We eat and sing and dance and catch up with one another.”
Her expression turned serious, a frown with deep creases in her brow.
“But this time a man came,” she said. “He was hurt. We didn’t know anything about the virus then. We do not watch TV or listen to the radio during our little trip, only listen to music we choose. We want to cut ourselves off from the outside world. He came in, injured, really injured, looking like some kind of animal had gotten to him. My brother was a doctor, so he helped clean the wound and stitch him back up. We put him in one of the kids’ beds to rest. My brother said he thought the bite marks were made by a person, not a wild animal. I headed out, driving up the road to get a signal for my phone. When I got through to someone, I returned to the cabin. By then, it was already too late. My family were mostly dead. They had been bitten by the stranger. We were a family of non-violence. We had no chance against that beast.
“I was bitten too. When I awoke, I find my family wandering around inside the house. Luckily the doors and windows were all closed. I spoke to them, but they couldn’t talk back. I assumed the bite I got wasn’t as bad as the ones they had. As I got bitten more over the never few weeks, I realized it was something different.
“Knowing what was going to happen to my family, that they would turn just as the other man had done, I made these collars. I told them I would protect them. I thought I could keep them separate so they wouldn’t hurt each other. It worked, but they never changed, never came back to me. I decided then that I never wanted them to harm another person the way we had been. I thought I could learn to survive in the forest. I later realized that what had happened to my family had spread much farther than our little log cabin. I’ve been traveling around this area ever since.”
“I’m sorry,” Hugo said. “This has happened to everyone, everywhere.”
“There’s something I don’t understand,” Dana said. “How did you find us? I thought we were long gone from you.”
“You were,” Miranda said. “But your friend led the way.”
“Friend?” Hugo said.
He turned to face the direction Miranda was pointing in. Poe.
“He must have been following us for the past couple days,” Miranda said. “He saw you escape, followed you, and then saw the woodsmen come. He didn’t know how to help you, so he ran back to get me. It’s a good thing he did.”
Hugo got to his feet and stretched out his arms. He wrapped them around Poe.
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you so much for everything you did for us. If it wasn’t for you… Well, I don’t know where we’d be right now.”
Dead, Dana thought. The zombies had been driven into a wild rage at the spilled blood of the two woodsmen. There would have been no escaping them after that. Dana stood up and approached Poe. He looked apprehensive like he was expecting her to strike him.
“Thank you,” Dana said.
Hugo grinned like an idiot.
“You must be starving, Poe!” he said. “Come on, let’s get some food inside you. We need to pack for the journey ahead.”
Dana’s eyes caught on Miranda’s. The old woman smiled. It didn’t touch her eyes. There was a sadness there that wouldn’t ever be removed. She was a poor, sad soul. There was nothing Dana could do to help her. She would have to go on through life by herself.
“You’re free to come with us,” Dana said.
“Thank you,” Miranda said. “But my place is here, amongst the trees and my family. I can’t put them in any danger, any place where they might come to harm. Some of us still wear our collars, though you might not see them.”
Dana nodded. She didn’t really want her to come with her anyway.
