by Russ Watts
She was swaying unsteadily, her eyes closed, blood pouring from her head. Jonas was elated. Quinn must have took his axe from the van, circled around the other side of the crowd, and fought them off. He went to hug her, but then Quinn opened her eyes, and Jonas felt the familiar storm clouds gather once again. The clouds that he had long dispelled grew quickly. Quinn’s eyes had clouded over, and her arms hung loose at her sides. The axe clattered to the floor as her hand dropped it. As she slowly raised her arms, he saw the chunks missing from her shoulders, the skin that had been flayed from her hands and arms, and the blood that continued to pour from her head. She took a step toward him and almost fell. One foot had been bent backward a full 180 degrees, and it was then that he noticed the blood covering her body too. Her jeans were torn, and blood poured from the ripped holes. Tornados of doubt surged through him, and darkness engulfed his core. His heart skipped a beat, and then the darkness fell. It was pointless fighting it. The darkness was so overwhelming that he could hardly breathe. His body told him to stop – stop fighting, stop running, just stop and wait for the inevitable. He couldn’t protect them. The gunshots had stopped. Would the others fare any better than him? What was the point in trying to close the gates to Hell when there was no lock?
A furious wind abruptly swept through the yard, cool air carrying dying leaves with it, and they slapped against Jonas’ face as he stood there staring at Quinn. A hand gripped his shoulder, and he looked up at the sky. It was lighter blue now, suggesting it was going to be a beautiful sunny day. As Jonas looked up into the sweet sky another hand wrapped itself around his leg. He could feel cold fingers grasp his knee, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. There were so many. Quinn was with them now, Dakota probably too. Quinn, Peter, Tyler – all of them. Was he the last one?
He felt the hand on his shoulder grip him fiercely, the fingernails starting to pinch his skin and pull at his shirt. The red mist parted slightly, and he looked at Quinn again. She was shouting at him to move, to come to her. The blood pouring from her head was real, but she was moving freely, and her face was full of energy. Her skin was smooth, like a dark pebble, and she was using his axe to beat in the head of a zombie. The silence of the dead was replaced with a rushing blood in his ears, and the tumultuous storm that had appeared in his head vanished. Like a light switch clicking off, he realized he wasn’t the last one alive, and he was never going to give in. Through the red mist he had let himself be tricked, letting the weak part of his mind fool him into thinking Quinn was dead. He shut that part of his brain down, forcing himself to look at Quinn. She was real, and the dead were inches away from him, ready to bite.
He shook off the hand on his shoulder, kicked out at the hands grabbing his legs, and bolted toward Quinn. The chainsaw was useless now, its power drained, its blades dulled and the saw too sluggish to be of any use.
“Here, take this,” said Quinn, thrusting the axe into Jonas’s hands.
She pulled a gun from her back and began shooting as Jonas laid into the zombie that had been crawling over the ground to them. He obliterated its face with a mixture of revulsion and pleasure. He felt more in control with the axe and wasn’t sorry to see the back of the chainsaw. A dead man dressed in a postal uniform came running toward them, and Jonas slugged it with the back of the axe head. Quinn stood at Jonas’s back, firing, and Jonas finished off a runner with a quick blow to the side of the head. The zombie dropped down dead at his feet, and Jonas heard Quinn gasp. He turned to face her.
“I’m out,” she said.
Five zombies were circling them, crawling over the mountain of dead, stumbling over rotten bodies and filth and gore. Beyond them were more. From the street they were coming, dozens and dozens more of them, incessant, like an army forever marching to their goal. Jonas saw movement around the van, and it looked like the others were getting ready to leave. He had to buy them more time and keep the zombies’ attention away from the campervan, so he called out.
“Come and get it, dinner’s ready you dead fuckers,” he shouted. “Quinn, get out of here. Get the others in the van. I’ll hold them off.”
Quinn pushed her way through the circling zombies, and Jonas wished he had something more than willpower and a small handheld axe to battle with. He scoured the ground, looking for a gun, a knife, anything that could help defend them. Something hard and long stuck out from underneath a body, and he recognized it as the shaft of some kind of tool. Pulling on it, he expected it to come out easily, thinking it was probably a piece of metal. Instead it had weight to it, and he had to yank it out of the body. It wasn’t just pinned underneath, but stuck in it, and whatever was on the other end of the handle was dug into the body well. He pulled again, and with a sucking sound, the weapon revealed itself. He freed it and wiped away the blood, admiring the Pulaski. It was slightly larger than the axe he carried, with a steel blade, a tough fiberglass handle, and an adze on the axe head perpendicular to the handle. Jonas knew the tool was intended for chopping wood, but it was still as sharp as the day it was made. A smile crept across his face, and he let his arms drop. In each hand he now held an axe, each one sharp and lethal, each able to sever, maim, and kill. The dead were going down. He looked up slowly, drawing in a deep breath as he gripped the axes in each hand tighter.
Jonas yelled and launched himself back into the melee. The circle around him had grown, and the road ahead was full of zombies. Jonas swung with both arms, not aiming for the head, not aiming for anything in particular, just wanting to inflict as much damage to the zombies as he could, and knowing that every blow counted. It slowed them down, and though the dead threatened to engulf him, he didn’t care. A variety of zombies attacked him, and he caught sight of office workers, baristas, schoolgirls and schoolboys, soccer moms, farmers, and even tourists with huge cameras swinging around their broken necks. It felt like the whole world was against him, yet he didn’t care. The faces of the dead began to blur into one, and he kept going until he finally heard the yelling.
Gradually Jonas was forced back by the sheer number of the dead, and he caught sight of Erik near the van. Erik beckoned him over, and he heard Quinn shouting, calling his name. He knew he hadn’t finished them all off, but they were incapacitated, and that was enough. There were so many bodies lying on the road that they slowed down the other zombies who were still trying to get to the fight. Instead of picking a careful path around, they tried to walk through the mass of corpses that Jonas and Quinn had left, and invariably ended up tripping over them. Jonas charged through the last of the zombies, wiping the blood from his eyes as he ran.
“Dakota?” he asked as he approached Erik.
“I’m here.” Dakota leant forward from the rear seat in the van and Jonas leant in, grasping her hand. “Everyone okay?”
Even as the words came out of his mouth, he knew it was a redundant question. He looked around the interior of the van, and could see they were terrified. Dakota and Pippa were in back with a comatose Freya beside them. The young girl was clutching the keychain he had given her, squeezing it in her hands like a stress squeezer, as if it were a comforter. Mrs. Danick was clutching her bag to her chest, and he had never seen her look so scared. Terry sat silently next to her as Quinn and Erik clambered into the van.
“We’ve used up all the ammo we had. I borrowed Gabe’s gun, but short of making our own bullets, it’s useless.”
“Unfortunately true,” said Javier, lying. “It’s empty.”
Erik held a hammer in his hands, covered in blood. He had knocked back a few zombies as he had helped the others get to the van. “Let’s roll, Hamsikker,” said Erik gruffly. He sat down beside Quinn and cleared a space for Jonas to sit down next to him.
Jonas got in and swung the van door closed just as a runner reached them. It started battering on the door, and Dakota screamed.
“Gabe, punch it,” said Jonas. He noticed Gabe was looking surprisingly calm as he caught his eye in the rear-view mirror. Mara was sat in the p
assenger seat, looking a little more concerned, but Jonas paid no attention to them. The van was reversing quickly out of the yard, and several bumps on the side of the van told him they were not in the clear yet.
“I think most of them are coming from town,” said Jonas. “Martinsville is fucked. Try and take us around it if you can, Gabe.”
“Doing my best here,” grunted Javier as he swerved the van from left to right, trying to avoid the dead that had filled the road. He didn’t need advice and didn’t ask for any. Javier concentrated on what lay ahead.
“I feel sick already,” said Dakota.
The van lurched from side to side, and Jonas had no doubt that Gabe was doing his best. He also didn’t doubt that they were still hitting a lot of zombies, and the van wasn’t built to take the damage that it was suffering. He wished they still had the SUV, but he found himself wishing for a lot of things these days. One day He might listen, but Jonas doubted that anyone upstairs was listening to anyone anymore.
“I think we’re through the worst of it,” said Javier.
Jonas looked at the receding town, and the zombies that continued to follow them down the road, stumbling over body parts as the van left them behind. What had drawn them in? All it took was a noise, a smell, and they closed in like a school of hungry piranha. Aside from a crying coming from Freya at the back of the van, nobody spoke, and Jonas slowly became aware of a tapping noise. It was consistently there, regular like clockwork, and he looked down for the source of the noise. He still held the axes in both hands, and they were clattering together as his hands shook. He dropped the axes at his feet and held his hands up. Whilst the noise had stopped, the shaking in his hands hadn’t, and he looked at them bemused, as if watching a television show. His hands were covered in blood, and not an inch of his own pale skin was visible beneath the crimson veil that covered them. He told himself to get a grip, to stop shaking, but his body wasn’t listening. Both hands shook, no matter how much he tried to stop, so he sat on them, pressing them beneath his thighs into the seat, hoping nobody would notice.
They rode on in silence for a while, and Jonas lost track of time. He kept replaying over in his mind what had just happened. Peter was gone. How he had ended up outside, he couldn’t guess. Had he made a stupid mistake, perhaps gone outside for some air? Perhaps he was going to retrieve something from the van for Freya. Either way he had paid the ultimate price. Jonas knew that if he found out anyone had been involved in Peter’s death, he would kill them. Peter was so kind and generous, and it was hard to believe he was gone. The thought of killing made Jonas remember his promise to Dakota. No more killing. He couldn’t afford to let himself get caught up in things like that anymore. Besides, he trusted everyone in the van, and whatever had killed Peter was probably just a stupid accident, and he pushed the dark thoughts from his head.
As they drove, Jonas watched the sky as the stars fizzled out to be replaced by the sunlit sky. They passed numerous small towns with no living souls anywhere. He wondered if they might find other survivors, but there were none. The roads were by and large clear, and they kept to the smaller roads, knowing the Interstates were likely to be clogged. Traffic had snarled up causing huge traffic congestion at the start of the outbreak, and there was no one around to clear the roads.
Jonas saw a church coming up ahead, set back behind a small white fence. A lemon tree stooped low before the main gates, its branches bending under the weight of its fruit. Outside the church gates, a billboard with black lettering on a white background proclaimed ‘Repent, seek His forgiveness.’ There were three bodies lying beneath the billboard, their skin and flesh torn from their bones, and their faces blank, their eyes dead. The bodies tried to get up when the truck drove past, but before they were on their feet the van had passed the church and the town was behind them. Jonas looked in the rear view mirror at the sign that once said ‘Romney – Thank you for visiting.’ Somebody had taken a can of black paint and changed it.
“Romney - What would Jesus do?” said Jonas quietly as he read the new sign aloud.
“What’s that, Hamsikker?” asked Terry.
“Nothing. Just a stupid sign.”
“Hamsikker, take this and wipe yourself down,” said Mrs. Danick quietly. She handed a cloth over to him, and he took it. His face was caked in gore, and he wiped as much off as he could. He stank of death, but there was nothing he could do about that. He discarded the cloth and looked across at Quinn and Erik. They were silent, their heads bowed, their grief all too obvious. He glanced back at the others, but nobody returned his look. His heart ached when he saw Freya holding onto her mother. Pippa looked as though someone had ripped her heart out. It was difficult when a loved one died, but seeing them turn, seeing them as a zombie, made it all the more harder. Jonas still remembered his father’s funeral as fresh in his mind as if it had been only yesterday. Getting through the moments after one of their own had died was even harder than killing or taking out the dead up close and personal.
Jonas thought of asking Mara for a map from the glove box, but he didn’t need a map for what he needed to do next.
“I’m going to make this quick. We’re heading north, up to Canada. The further we get away from the cities the better chance we have of making it.” He could see Quinn frowning and wanted to cut her off before she started. “I know Kentucky is our home, was our home, but we have to accept that it’s gone. We can’t go back. So we keep going. My sister, Janey, lives near Fort William. She has a small, red wooden house by the lake. The city she lives in is relatively tiny compared to what we’re used to, and I think the area should be clear of the dead. That’s what we need. That’s where we’re going. That’s where we’ll be safe.”
“Then let’s get going,” said Erik. “We have more of a chance there than here. Honey?” He looked back at Pippa, but she wasn’t there. In body she was sat right behind him, but her mind was elsewhere. The loss of Peter had hit her hard, and she had succumbed to a silent grief, lost in her own thoughts. Erik hadn’t really expected an answer. He just wanted to look at her and Freya, to be reassured that he still had part of his family with him.
“Let’s do it,” said Javier. “I like a good road trip.”
“It’s a long way to go,” said Quinn. “You think we can make it in this rust bucket?”
“I do,” said Jonas. “We avoid the major cities, stay clear of trouble, and we could be there within a couple of days. I vote we keep away from any built up areas from now on. We can sleep in shifts, and spend the nights in woods or on high ground, anywhere away from people. I’m not saying this is going to be easy, but it is our best option. What are the alternatives?”
“As long as we do this right – I’m in,” Mrs. Danick said, and then she sighed. “I don’t exactly know what went wrong back there this morning, but I know we lost some good people. Peter didn’t deserve that. We have to be more careful. Watch our backs. There’s good people and bad people in this world; always was, always will be.”
“So we’re going to do this?” asked Jonas. He looked around, and even Terry was nodding in agreement. He probably didn’t want to stir up the others with talk of his leaving, and Jonas appreciated that.
“I’ve just one question,” said Mrs. Danick. “Why was Peter outside? Who was on watch when they attacked? I thought we had the place covered.” Mrs. Danick looked at Mara, her eyes questioning, her face full of disdain. “Mara, weren’t you and Peter supposed to be on watch? What did you see? What happened to…?”
“Look, you old bag, what’s your problem? You’re alive aren’t you?” Rose was drumming her fingers on the dashboard impatiently. “It happened when we switched shifts. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, so don’t start with your shit again.”
Mrs. Danick laughed. “If you think I’m scared of you Mara, you can think again. That attitude won’t win you any friends. All I’m saying is if you were on watch, then what happened? If you were on watch, that is.”
“I’ve just about h
ad enough of your accusations,” said Mara. “You’ve never given us a chance. Gabe didn’t have to let you in. We could’ve turned you away, but we helped you. All I hear coming out of your mouth, Mrs. Danick, is complaints. You…”
“All right, enough.” Erik sighed. “Jesus, this isn’t helping. Both of you just quit, okay? Pointing fingers after the fact won’t get us anywhere,” said Erik. “My boy’s gone. I’d give my life for him, but I can’t change places with him, so I have to keep going for my wife and for my daughter. I have to.”
Jonas glanced back at Dakota. Freya was curled up next to her, squashed in between her and Pippa. Freya wasn’t sleeping, her eyes were open, but she looked almost catatonic. Jonas still couldn’t believe Peter had gone. Pippa was dealing with it in her own private way, but she was unable to look after herself and certainly couldn’t take care of her daughter. Dakota was good with Freya, and she was softly stroking the girl’s hair. She was going to be a great mother, Jonas knew that, but first he had to get them all to safety. Erik was right about having to go on. Giving up would be an affront to the memory of those who had died. Peter hadn’t died just for them all to give in now.
“Mara, we’re just talking here, okay?” Jonas looked at her. “Bear in mind we just lost someone. Peter was a real hero, the way he looked after his sister. I only hope we do him proud and get Freya through this.”
Erik slapped Jonas on the back. “We will, Hamsikker, we will.”
“You know, I think there’s a little food and water still in the back,” said Javier. “Not much, but enough for a day, maybe two. Apart from bathroom breaks, there’s no reason we can’t keep going until we run out of gas. I think getting to your sister is a great idea.” Javier was enjoying the show. Erik and Pippa looked as if they were about to break down, and even Mrs. Danick sounded beaten. Rose had really let her have it. When Mrs. Danick had brought up Rose being on watch with Peter, she hadn’t even had the guts to follow up with a decent accusation.
