Into the Badlands

by Brian J. Jarrett

  She searched through the dimly-lit dumpster, eventually finding a box solid enough to stand on. She then she retrieved the rifle from amongst the trash bags and other petrified garbage. She pulled herself up onto the box, the dumpster lid just above her head.

  She wasn't about to let Mitchell die for her.

  Mitchell continued walking toward the crowd of the infected, firing bullets into as many of them as he could. He spent the cylinders of the revolvers, then placed them back into their holsters. He stooped down and retrieved two pistols with full clips from holsters strapped to his legs, hidden beneath his pants.

  He raised both pistols, then continued firing into the crowd. Virtually every shot found its mark. As some carriers fell, more poured in behind them to take their place. Mitchell continued firing, taking them down as methodically as he could. Both pistols were spent quickly, leaving him no choice but to reload.

  He placed the gun in his left hand into the leg holster, then removed a clip from his belt for the gun in his right hand. He dropped the empty clip onto the ground. He was about to place the loaded clip into the gun when a large carrier bolted through the pack from the rear, charging with alarming speed.

  Mitchell struggled to get the clip into the pistol, but the thing was closing too fast. He began to back up, trying to buy himself time. Without warning a loud gunshot pierced the air. Mitchell watched as the carrier's body jerked then dropped to the ground with an unmercifully dull thud.

  He slammed the clip into the gun, then turned back toward the dumpster to see Trish pointing the rifle toward the crowd of carriers. He smiled at her. He turned back and shot three more carriers. He temporarily placed the freshly loaded pistol into this holster, then repeated the reloading process on the second pistol. He heard another loud boom as Trish fired another bullet into an approaching carrier. He pushed the clip into place, then turned back toward the crowd of carriers, raising both pistols in the air. Mitchell watched as the carriers fell with each pull of the trigger.

  Then he heard more gunshots from the end of the alley. He quickly spied Ed, Dave, and the boys as they fired into the crowd of carriers. The carriers in the rear turned toward the sound of new gunfire, then began dropping as the bullets pierced their filthy, emaciated bodies.

  “Watch your aim!” Mitchell yelled to Trish. “Ed and the others are at the end of the alley!” Trish smiled amidst the acrid smell of gunpowder and the stench of dead carriers.

  They'd come back after all.

  Ed saw Mitchell through the crowd of deadwalkers. He fired a couple shots, then yelled behind himself. Ed looked to see Trish in the dumpster, near the end of the alley, rifle in hand.

  “There's Mitchell!” Ed yelled to Dave. Dave fired another shot, then looked into crowd. Dave returned a thumbs up. The carriers were now split facing two directions. They shot the able-bodied carriers first, leaving the paralyzed and nearly immobile ones alone. They didn't have ammunition to waste, and they had already used up so much of it.

  Ed, Dave, and the boys ran through the piles of dead carriers, dodging the cripples along the way. They quickly reached Mitchell. “You folks shoulda kept going,” he told them.

  “No, we shouldn't have,” Ed told him, looking at Zach.

  They all ran back to the dumpster. “Help me out of here,” Trish said as they approached. As Ed helped Trish down she kissed him, then hugged him close. He felt he didn't deserve it.

  “We gotta get outta here, pronto,” Dave reminded the rest of them. “This place is fucking crawling with these things.”

  “Where to?” Trish asked.

  “Back to the highway,” Ed replied. “We're have to make a break for the city, before more of them show up.”

  “What if the city's full of these things too?” Trish asked.

  Ed didn't reply.

  They reached the highway quickly, stepping around the dead and wounded carriers along the way. There were no doubt more lurking within the city limits, and it was only a matter of time before they made an appearance. They all wanted to be long gone before they did.

  They were all running when they reached the highway, out of breath and nearly exhausted. The cut on Ed's leg had stopped bleeding, the pain somewhat numbed by endorphins. It hurt, but it was manageable. They slowed to a brisk walk, attempting to keep a quick pace while not completely depleting their energy stores.

  Leaving the fresh carnage behind them they passed more cars and more decayed bodies as they walked. They opted for the westbound lanes since there were fewer abandoned cars; near the end people had been running from the cites, not to them. As the adrenaline stopped flowing into their systems their exhaustion became more severe, hindering their progress. Ed's limp didn't help things. They continued walking, but the pace seemed excruciatingly slow.

  As they neared the city, the giant stainless steel Gateway Arch beckoned them. Filling in the skyline were other buildings, the top of the structures visible from their vantage point. The buildings stood like sentinels in the distance; silently looming over the city streets and the smaller buildings filling the gaps. The city streets themselves were out of view; if there was activity on them they'd have to be closer to see it.

  They continued walking briskly along the highway. The carriers were gone for the moment. They fought the urge to constantly look behind them; it slowed their forward progress and that was a risk they couldn't take. If they had any hopes at all of reaching the city before nightfall they had to be quick.

  They walked for some time along the road, the city growing larger in their view as they made their way further west. They remained keenly aware of their surroundings, yet saw no sign of carrier activity. They passed by more decrepit, crumbling buildings and disintegrating houses as they walked, but luckily they were empty.

  Eventually the highway became an elevated overpass, rising into the sky and crossing over the local roads below it. They were getting very close to the city now, but the height of the bridges worried Ed. They were even more vulnerable while crossing them; there was nowhere to hide and very little option of retreat.

  They stopped at the foot of the overpass, following it upward with their eyes, watching it as it rose more than three stories above the ground. Eventually the overpass turned into a bridge over over the Mississippi river. Just on the other side of the bridge was the city, nestled squarely up against the riverbank.

  “I don't like this,” Dave remarked, his eyes following the outline of the bridge as it rose into the air and over the water. “We get stuck on that thing and we're done for.”

  “We don't have much choice,” Mitchell observed, his hand shielding his eyes from the sun. “If we want in that city then this is our route. Unless you want to swim, of course, but with the load we got on our backs I'd say that'd be a bad idea.”

  They were too heavy with all their gear, and the boys weren't strong swimmers. “No, this is our only option,” Ed stated, his eyes fixed on the road. “It's a risk we're going to have to take.” He looked toward the group for any objections. No one countered. With that they began their trek up the ramp and onto the overpass.

  The grade was moderate, and the group made their way up the overpass ramp with some effort. They moved as quickly as they could, despite their fatigue. They put thirty yards, forty yards, fifty yards, and then a hundred yards behind them. They were committed to the overpass now, standing almost three frightening stories off the ground.

  Behind them the roadway remained clear of predators, but before them they could only see to the summit of the overpass. What lay on the other side was a mystery, and quite possibly their biggest risk yet. They could only hope the road on the other side of that crest was clear. If it wasn't, their only escape was to double back, and hope the road behind them remained passable.

  Then, just as they neared the crest of the road, Dave said something that made them all stop where they were. “They're behind us,” he said. “Lot of them.”

  Ed turned, feeling as if he had been kicked in t
he stomach. They all turned to see dozens upon dozens of carriers walking up the overpass ramp. They clogged the roadway behind them, blocking their escape route. They walked, limped, and ran up the ramp.

  “Daddy?” Jeremy said, frightened.

  “Run,” Ed told him. “Toward the city.”

  They ran. Ed ushered both boys along, ensuring they didn't fall behind. The others ran with them, toward the summit of the overpass and then onto the bridge over the river. They were literally running for their lives now, and what lay on the other side of that roadway would either save them or kill them. As they neared the top of the incline, the road began to level out.

  It was then they met their destiny head on.

  Before them, littering the highway, were dozens of carriers. They were wandering aimlessly, unaware anyone was approaching. Ed and the rest of the group stopped, standing silent and still, watching the wretched remains of humanity before them.

  This is it, Ed thought. This is how it ends.

  Then, from behind them, a carrier screamed. Ed and the others watched in sickening horror as the wandering carriers took notice. One of them screamed and then they all charged, the screaming building as they joined in the pursuit.

  Trish began to cry. Ed looked at Dave, then at Mitchell. Their expressions communicated all that needed said. There was no reaching the city. There was no safe haven. There was no future. There was no cheating death. They had only put off the inevitable, and now that time was over.

  Ed looked at his two boys standing in front of him; their childhood stolen from them, their innocence lost. Zach's second chance, wasted. They looked up at him for answers, for some kind of direction. Do something! their faces screamed silently to him. But he couldn't. Nothing could save any of them now. They were beyond hope.

  There was only one choice left.

  Ed reached into his front pocket and retrieved the clip holding the three shells he had carried with him since leaving the border town three years ago. He ejected the clip in the pistol; it struck the ground with a sharp clink. The others turned toward him. Trish's face was streaked with tears. She watched him, horrified, shaking her head form side to side. No, her face pleaded with him. This can't be happening. This isn't how it's supposed to end.

  Ed placed the clip into the pistol, then looked toward the carriers both behind and in front of them. They were approaching quickly from both sides now, limping, crawling, running, and walking. The screams continued, almost in unison, melding into a sickening dirge.

  He loaded the first shell into the chamber of the pistol, then looked at Trish once more. She looked at him with undefinable despair as Ed placed the gun against Jeremy's head.

  “No,” she said. “Ed, please...”

  He looked at her, expressionless. His finger touched the trigger. Mitchell watched, his face tense. Dave stood, his mouth agape, in disbelief.

  Jeremy looked up at his father. “No Daddy, please don't,” he pleaded. Zach's eyes widened in disbelief; his father was going to shoot his brother. Then he knew he would be next.

  “I love you, buddy,” Ed told his youngest son, his voice faltering as the tears began to roll from his eyes and down his cheeks. They fell from his face, striking the pavement below like a melancholy rain, mixing with the dirt and grime.

  “I only ever wanted the best for you,” he said.

  Dave closed his eyes, unable to watch. A few seconds passed, and then the terrible sound of a single shot rang out, echoing in the distance.

  CHAPTER 20

  Dave Porter stood with his eyes closed upon an interstate overpass, death approaching from both sides, waiting for a father to kill his own son. His wife was dead, as were all his friends, and soon he would be as well. He suddenly recalled a memory from his high school graduation, just before accepting his diploma. His life had flashed before his eyes, like a fleeting filmstrip of what might be in store for him. He certainly hadn't seen any of this in that vision.

  Then the sound of the gunshot crashed through the air like thunder, causing him to jump. He kept his eyes closed; maybe he could keep them closed through it all. He couldn't watch Ed shoot his other son, nor could he watch him shoot himself. Maybe Ed would have mercy on them all, killing them all before the carriers got them. If not, the filthy remains of humanity would make short work of him. Either way, with his eyes closed he'd never see any of it coming.

  “Dave,” he heard Ed call out. He kept his eyes closed; he just couldn't stand to see any more than he already had.

  “Dave!” Ed repeated. “Open your eyes.”

  Dave opened his eyes reluctantly, bracing himself. When he did he was shocked; Jeremy was still alive! He looked at Ed, confusion painted on his face like a mask. Ed just looked back at him, the expression on his face saying everything. He couldn't do; he wouldn't do it. They were going down fighting. Ed raised his pistol, aimed it at the oncoming carriers, then began firing.

  Dave looked at Trish and Mitchell as they stood watching the events unfold. Mitchell's face was stoical, his mouth a thin line. Dave could have sworn though that he saw the faintest hint of a smile appear before Mitchell began firing into the crowd of deadwalkers.

  Trish's expression changed as well. What had been a mixture of horror and sadness was now replaced with grim determination. Her mouth pursed and her brow narrowed as she readied the rifle and began selectively firing upon their approaching attackers.

  Gunfire erupted as the group began working their way through their ammunition. It was impossible to hear anything else for all the noise. Carriers screamed as they were wounded, falling to the ground and writhing in pain. Ed, Zach, and Jeremy all stood facing west, unloading their clips into the crowd of oncoming carriers. The carriers from the east came for them from behind; making their way quickly up the ramp.

  Ed fired off as many rounds as he could. After three shots he emptied the clip from the border town, then loaded another. He watched as carriers fell, brought down by the bullets from his sons' guns, then he began picking off the most able-bodied of their attackers.

  Mitchell was firing with both guns into the crowd, targeting the infected with uncanny precision. Suddenly Ed watched in helpless horror as a carrier burst through the crowed, headed directly toward Zach. Before he could react he heard a gunshot, then saw the carrier drop to the ground in a bloody, twisted heap. Mitchell nodded in his direction, Ed nodded back.

  Zach and Jeremy stood by their father, firing their own guns. Their aim wasn't as good as the adults, but simply firing into a crowd that was so thick was inevitably successful.

  Trish stood near Ed and the boys, using the rifle to shoot the fastest carriers. She had already accepted that fact that she was going to die; when she thought about it she had actually been ready to die since Tim had been killed. She thought of him as she fired at her targets, and she knew he would have been proud of her. Death was coming, but she wasn't going quietly.

  Mitchell backed up again the railing of the overpass, keeping all his targets in front of him, cutting them down. He aim then fired. Aimed, then fired. Aimed then fired. One, two, three, they dropped. He repeated the process, shooting the carriers attacking from the east, then focusing on those approaching from the west.

  The air was filled with the acrid smell of burnt gunpowder, along with urine, feces, blood, and guts. Carriers fell as they were shot, then others stepped on them, over them, or fell as they tried to do either. Copious amounts of blood ran down the concrete, drawn into crooked streams by the relentless power of gravity. The carriers, however, continued making progress, despite losing significant numbers. They steadily closed the distance, awkwardly limping, walking, and running toward them. Some of the wounded still continued to crawl toward them, screaming as they did so.

  Mitchell emptied his revolvers, holstered them, then pulled the pistols strapped to his legs. He continued firing, carriers falling after each gunshot. He emptied the clips, then attempted to reload. Suddenly a massively huge carrier broke out from the crowd,
heading toward him. Mitchell attempted to reload the pistol, but the carrier closed the distance too quickly. It struck him at a full run, driving him into the railing of the overpass, breaking three of his ribs and knocking the breath out of him. He dropped the empty pistol, then reached for one of his revolvers.

  He hit the carrier in the head with the gun, still attempting to catch his breath, but the thing was just too large. It buried its rotten teeth into Mitchell's neck, tearing at the flesh. He screamed in agony as his neck was torn apart. The carrier bit hard into the muscle, then ripped with all its might. A huge chunk of flesh and muscle was torn away, ripping an artery in the process. Blood spurted into the air with each heartbeat. Mitchell continued to scream, still striking the carrier with the pistol as he bled.

  Another carrier saw the opportunity and joined the attack. He tore at Mitchell's face, biting his nose almost completely off. Blood leaked from the empty cavity, dripping through his beard and covering his shirt. A third carrier ran toward them, striking them all with such force that the entire group lost footing.

  Trish heard Mitchell's screams, turning instinctively to see what had happened. She cried out as she watched Mitchell and two of the carriers topple over the top of the overpass wall, plummeting three stories onto the pavement below. “No!” Trish wailed, filled with overwhelming sadness and rage.

  One of Mitchell's attackers still remained on the bridge. She took aim, fired, then watched as the thing dropped to the ground. Fresh tears streaked down her face as she cried for the friend who had shown them so much kindness. He had saved their lives, and now he had given his life for them.

  Ed emptied his clip, then turned just in time to see Mitchell go over the railing, falling to his death on the pavement below. The reality of their fate gripped him, and steeled himself for it. Mitchell was gone. The carriers would kill them, one by one. All he could do was buy them some time.