by Ricky Fleet
“We have to leave the digger then,” Peter said with sorrow, the grumbling hulk had saved their lives and now it would be left to rust. He climbed into the cab, turning the key and silencing it forever. “Goodbye old girl, you did us proud.”
They picked their bags up, shouldering the burden again. Weapons were readied for the perilous journey. Staring at the thick tree line, the autumnal chill had stripped the trees bare, deep piles of yellow and brown leaves coated the ground. The wind blew through the skeletal branches, which resembled waving fingers, beckoning them to enter.
“I have a bad feeling about this.” Sarah shivered.
“It’s either this, the Lavant road,” Kurt looked at John and the involuntary shudder was enough to put them all off, “Or the Motorway.” No one needed to be reminded about the miles of stationary cars and the occupants who haunted the open spaces between.
“Let’s go, I want a pint before bedtime,” John urged and they moved off cautiously.
Chapter 9
The trees provided cover from the wind, breaking the chilled breeze before it could reach them. The ground was a kaleidoscope of colour from the shed foliage. Browns, yellows, and greens provided a crisp blanket for their passage. The noise of the crushed leaves was matched by the swaying branches, masking their progress for any awful entity that may be listening.
“Keep close, pass each tree slowly. They may be hidden,” John whispered, his breath pluming in the cold day.
Honey explored, disappearing for minutes at a time as she scented the local wildlife. The piled leaves were a constant fascination to her and she leaped and frolicked, scattering them every which way. Sam and Braiden smiled, before rushing forward, kicking at the huge mounds while laughing. Sarah and Kurt watched their children, glad for the brief moment of high spirits amongst the horror that was their existence. Honey’s demeanour changed instantly, her playful exuberance was replaced by snarling. She bared her teeth at the boys, who stopped and tried to calm her.
“Sorry, girl, we only wanted to join in.” Sam held his hand out and had to snatch it back, barely missing the chomping jaw of their yellow pet. She started to bark furiously, spittle flying from her cheeks.
“Sam, get away from her!” Kurt shouted, wincing at the barks that could be drawing unspeakable danger toward them.
“Kurt, we have to quieten her, she will get us killed,” John hissed, raising his cleaver, meaning permanently silence.
“No!” Braiden yelled, getting between them, “You won’t hurt her!” He raised his screwdriver, making it clear he would defend the dog, despite the danger.
“Get out of the way, lad. This has to be done. I was worried she would create a scene at the wrong time. Thank God she did it when we were in the middle of a forest, and not in a town,” John said, stepping forward menacingly, ignoring Braiden who had moved between them yet again.
Gloria was torn; she knew what the animal meant to them all, what she had done to save them and bring them together. The change she had wrought in Paige was remarkable. But the fact remained that this sudden change in nature meant they were at risk from both the dog, and whatever she alerted to their presence. Carefully moving to the side, she raised the gun, aiming at the crazed animal, curling her finger over the trigger. Braiden was focused on the standoff with John, neither willing to back down, which gave her the opportunity she needed. Closing one eye, she sighted the pet and took a breath. The large deposit of leaves behind her moved, stirred, and fell from the two forms that had stood up in the middle. They wore thermal clothing, possibly in an attempt to survive the cold, but hunger or dehydration had done what the weather could not. There were only the first faint signs of decay, small pustules on the white skin and darkened veins from the dead blood.
“Oh my God!” Gloria said while training the gun on the new threat as the two zombies kicked their own way through the leaves, imitating the actions of the youngsters.
Honey whirled, snarling and barking. The din created a diversion and the dead reached for the nimble animal, but she danced out of the way.
“Don’t shoot!” Braiden told the teacher, motioning for her to lower the gun. Silently, he stepped up behind the corpses as they followed their four legged feast. Stabbing upwards, taking each zombie in the base of the skull where it met the spine, the screwdriver penetrated into their brains. They dropped to the ground, becoming one with the dead leaves.
“Good girl, you are such a brave girl,” Braiden cooed, kneeling and stroking Honey’s head. She was silent now, satisfied to receive the attention and fussing.
“She was only protecting us. We would have stood right on them if she hadn’t barked,” Sam stated. They waited, listening to the sound of Honey’s tail disturbing the dry leaves.
“We were lucky. She could have brought hundreds down on us,” John grumbled.
Braiden stood, eyes narrowing. Stepping forwards, he still had the dripping shank of the screwdriver by his side. “Don’t you go near her again. Ever,” he growled menacingly.
“Are you threatening me, boy?” John asked, meeting the gaze.
“Damn right I am,” Braiden replied.
“Stop it, both of you!” Paige cried, getting between them. Sam pulled Braiden back, and Kurt did the same with his father.
“Braiden, calm down,” Kurt told him. “Dad was right to do something, you know that. We couldn’t know that she was protecting us. Now we do, ok?” Kurt looked at him and Braiden looked away, nodding his agreement, although not happy.
“He’d better not try anything like that again, I won’t be so understanding next time,” John muttered and Braiden reared up again at the threat, marching forward.
“Dad, shut your mouth!” Kurt pushed his father away and stopped Braiden in his tracks with a look. “You won’t do anything! We are all in this together. She is a part of our family, she has bled for us.”
“She’s a bloody animal,” John grumbled.
“And we are only alive because of her, remember that!” Kurt hissed, tiring of the attitude that his father displayed towards the heroic hound. “Don’t forget who told me to stop and think, before acting rashly. What were you about to do to her?” Kurt pointed at the grinning furball.
“She still put us in danger,” John finished, knowing Kurt was right, though too proud to say.
“Happy family,” Debbie chuckled with derision.
“Let’s see how happy you are when you are left behind.” Kurt rounded on her and the smile died, to be replaced by the usual scowl. “Yeah, thought so.”
“Peter, you won’t let them leave me, will you?” Debbie asked, looking for support where there was none. Her bridges had been burned.
“You did this to yourself,” he replied quietly, going to Paige, who was also petting Honey.
“Fuck you, you snivelling weasel. I don’t know what I ever saw in you,” she blustered, furious.
“Well, now you don’t have to worry about it anymore, do you?” Peter answered back, signalling the true end of their dysfunctional relationship.
“I… I…” she could barely speak, her face reddening. Debbie was getting ready to explode, and to hell with the consequences.
“Shut up!” Kurt whispered and grabbed her from behind, putting his hand over her mouth, cupping the scream that escaped into his palm.
More rustling noises bounced from trunk to trunk in the murky woods, making it difficult to pinpoint the cause. Honey was still, sniffing and pricking her ears to locate the source. It could be the renewed grasp of the wind, disturbing the trees and causing the last of summer to fall from the branches to nourish the soil. Honey growled. It wasn’t wind.
“Move, this way!” Kurt ducked and made his way east, toward the bridge that led to the Beachwood Pub.
They ran, careful to step where the foliage was thinnest, wary of twigs and their echoing snaps. Between fleeting glances of the forest floor, they caught sight of figures in pursuit. The dead were aware of the new flesh and wanted a taste, blunde
ring around in their haste to reach the family. A rotting male stepped out from behind a tree, directly in Kurt’s path. It reached out and was knocked to the ground, Kurt landing on top with a sickly eruption of decayed liquid.
“Help him!” gasped Sarah, stifling the scream of shock she nearly unleashed.
Kurt didn’t need any assistance. He clutched the throat of the zombie, pinning it to the ground, ignoring the gelatinous feel of the peeling skin. He raised the hammer and punched a neat hole directly into the forehead, a bubbling green mixture spilling from the crater.
“Are you ok?” John whispered, helping him to his feet.
“Yeah, let’s go, we are nearly there.” Kurt was mindful of the crashing from behind, made by the converging dead.
The onset of stronger draughts indicated the end of the woodland; the frigid air was no longer filtered by the thick tree trunks. They took several moments, knowing they were being followed, but fearing the open stretch of road approaching the bridge that crossed the flowing river. It would leave them out in the open, fully exposed for anything else that was watching.
“When will we catch a break?” Peter groaned, looking upon the scene. The bridge was blocked with cars. There was crushed metal and broken glass from one side to the other where people had tried to push through, desperate to escape the horde. The paint had been scratched and furrowed where bones had grasped for the occupants, clawing at the cars. Thick puddles of blood lay on the road, the rain unable to wash them clean. Piles of unidentifiable gore were strewn everywhere, spilled from the dying. They had an unenviable choice, the fast flowing, freezing water of the River Lavant. Or traversing the uneven, wet, zombie infested car crash on the bridge.
“What do we do?” Paige asked with fear in her voice. She could count at least thirty on the bridge, some still in their cars, but able to reach through broken windows.
“Dad, what do you think?” Kurt asked. “The water will be safer, but cold enough to cause hypothermia if we can’t get into fresh, dry clothes quickly.”
“You mean if the pub is overrun, or surrounded?” John looked at Kurt, voicing his fears.
“The bridge will mean we stay warm. We just have to climb over the wreckage, the broken glass, and sharp metal. If we slip we will be cut to ribbons, if we get grabbed we will be eaten. I just don’t know!” Kurt was weighing the options, the zombies from behind were close, visible at all times and not hidden by the trees anymore. Honey chuffed and ran down to the river’s edge, wagging her tail.
“Looks like she has made her mind up. What about you?” Kurt asked the group. No one looked pleased about the choice, but they were out of options. Zombies in the forest, zombies in the wreckage, or the cold water.
“We have life jackets, so we probably won’t drown,” Sam piped up, trying to cheer them up. He failed.
They hurried away from the tree line, rushing around the blood and viscera. They waited on the bank of the river, surrounded by reeds and bushes that thrived on the moist earth. The water passed by, lapping at the bridge supports. It wasn’t too deep which surprised Kurt. Normally at this time of year it would be chest deep. They would likely be submerged to the tops of their thighs, which was still bad and enough to cause loss of feeling and life threatening illness.
“How fast is it moving?” Gloria asked while keeping a wary eye on the dark woods, knowing festering horror would soon break cover.
“Quite fast. We will need to keep hold of one another as we cross. Take it slowly or we will be pulled down,” Kurt warned.
“At least we won’t drown, just freeze to death,” Debbie moaned, pulling the fasteners on her life preserver to make sure they were tight. No one corrected her, for once she was right.
The horde was clear of the trees. Five, then ten, then twenty, more and more came into the daylight.
“We couldn’t have survived against that many,” Kurt said to no one, just thinking out loud. He stepped down, the water parting for his foot and filling the shoe. It bit into him like a thousand shards of glass as his leg sank into the water. Hissing his discomfort, he tried to maintain his composure and waded deeper. In the back of his mind, he knew that if they couldn’t find sanctuary, this would be the end of them. He was young and fairly fit, but the cold was enveloping him, numbing the muscles of his legs. He wasn’t sure he would even be able to walk once they reached the other side. Honey jumped in and paddled for all she was worth, reaching the other side in seconds and shaking off, watching the rest as they prepared for the crossing.
“This won’t work, we will die.” Kurt stepped back to the bank, dripping weeds and icy water. He had been submerged for ten seconds at most and already felt like he was missing the lower extremities.
“Jesus,” he gasped, squatting several times to get the blood flowing. They looked at him expectantly, wondering why the plan had changed. “It’s far colder than I thought. We would be crippled if we even made the other side. We clear our way through the cars, slowly and carefully.”
“We need to be quick!” Gloria stated, watching the group of dead get closer. They had less than a minute.
“They aren’t the problem. As soon as we get a car between us we are safe, I am worried about those,” Kurt pointed, then rubbed at his drenched trousers, trying to massage the unresponsive muscles. The zombies in the crash were conscious of their quarry, although they couldn’t get to them. As soon as they started the dangerous manoeuvre, all bets were off, one slip or errant step would mean death.
“Sam, take that one out for me,” Kurt indicated the closest cadaver, standing in a small enclosure that would safely house them all while they took a short while to plan the route. Sam loaded and aimed, releasing the steel ball with a sharp twang. The zombie’s head whipped back as the bearing ripped through, flinging it against the protective barrier of the bridge, then toppling it into the water below. The splash caused Kurt to shiver in sympathy, regardless of the corpse being twice dead. They watched the body bob down the river for a few seconds, spinning lazily on the surface.
“Good shot. Get over there. I will throw the gear to you,” Kurt told them, teeth chattering in his head like a jackhammer.
“No, you go, your legs are icicles. If you stay, you may not be able to reach us,” Sarah ordered and Kurt started to protest. “Now!” she demanded.
She was right, he couldn’t lift his legs properly, so instead he laid his back onto the bonnet and rolled over with less grace than he would have liked. One by one they jumped over, filling the small space left between the crumpled cars. John remained, throwing the rest of the bags at the group before making good his escape. The pack reached the spot John had vacated, moaning with inhuman desire for the meat they could no longer reach.
“Do we destroy those first? The fewer walking around the better.” John signalled the small crowd that had pursued them through the forest.
“No, we will waste time. Kurt needs to get dry,” Sarah explained. Kurt was shivering and his lips were turning a dangerous shade of blue. “Get those trousers and socks off.” Sarah started pulling at his belt.
Kurt turned away and undressed from the waist down and no one looked or made any comment. Sarah wiped at his damp skin with a blanket, getting most of the moisture off before helping him pull fresh clothes on. It wasn’t ideal but the best they could hope for at that time.
“That’s better. I couldn’t even think straight, thanks, Love,” Kurt said. He was still shivering, but the change of clothes would delay the hypothermia.
Surveying the scene, they saw that no route was without its risks. The occupied cars would need to be cleared first, lest they get pulled in by the zombies. The small numbers who were trapped between the shells could easily be picked off by the slingshot, but the sharp edges and glass was Kurt’s primary worry. To clear the bridge, they would be traversing the carnage of fifty tightly packed vehicles, going either over, or through, depending if doors could open wide enough.
“Right, follow my lead,” Kurt said, cl
imbing over the second bonnet, dusting the crushed glass onto the ground with his discarded wet trousers.
“Gloria, come on,” Kurt beckoned.
“No, you all get over. I will maintain the rear guard,” she replied, turning to face the vocal group that hammered on the car, only feet from them.
“Ok, kids, hop over. Mind the rest of the glass,” Kurt ordered and they obeyed. Gloria followed last, helped by John and Kurt.
“Good, this is going better than I expected,” Kurt declared. “We go through this car.”
He opened the door. It hit the closest vehicle and the gap was sufficient to squeeze through and crawl inside. They formed a human chain to pass the bags and blankets through, placing them in the back of an open van which they used as a tunnel to reach the next safe area. Just in case, they shut each door after using it to prevent anything following too easily.
The day was growing darker; they had only an hour of light at most. The tall lights on the bridge walls would be forever dark. Torches would need to be used, which would make the journey more perilous.
“Through this one too, but careful, the next car has a zombie strapped in.” Kurt opened the door and a quiet gurgling moan issued from within. He had mistaken the empty front seats and lack of thrashing movement to indicate the car was abandoned, but in the back seat was a baby carrier. The tiny child was clothed in a padded coat and blue baby onesie; it wasn’t big enough to have teeth or be a danger. Kurt hesitated and looked in the eyes of the monster that couldn’t possibly understand what it hungered for. The arms flailed like a newborn; uncoordinated, with fingers flexing spastically without real control. The poor baby must have been sealed inside during the accidents, and then protected from being consumed by the vehicle barriers. Any of the walkers on the bridge could be the parents, perhaps they had gone to assist before falling victim to the plague themselves.
“What’s the holdup?” John asked, looking past Kurt. “Oh.”
“Don’t let her see, Dad,” Kurt whispered back. John stood and Kurt vacated the car, closing the door.
