Emma held onto a seat to hold herself upright. Now that she was out of immediate danger, the adrenaline was leaving her system and making her knees a little wobbly. She didn’t want to show any weakness in front of her new companions, so she remained standing.
“Monica, where’s Belinda?” Juan asked, panicked.
“She’s with Kurt at the back of the bus,” Monica replied. “Leave her alone. She’s really shaken up and he’s the one she turned to.”
Juan whirled around to observe Kurt in the back row of the bus with his head bowed over his lap. Belinda wasn’t visible, so she had to be lying down. Emma didn’t know Juan well enough to read his gaze, but she got the impression he was both relieved and possibly disappointed.
When Juan started down the aisle, Monica grasped his arm.
“Monica, I should-”
“No, you shouldn’t.
When the bus reached the road that wound down the hill, zombies flowed out of the woods. There had been many more than they had realized. The faster ones assailed the bus while Arnold futilely attempted a three-point-turn. The bus rocked under the onslaught.
“I knew it! I knew it!” he grunted. “I can’t turn around. We’re getting boxed in and the tires are gummed up with zombie guts. We’re stuck!”
22
Not Part of the Plan
“We need to get out of here!” Ted exclaimed. Face flattened against a window to peer out, he was visibly shaking.
“We’re working on it, bro. Calm down,” Juan said.
The space around the bus was filled with the undead, making maneuverability difficult. Emma had faced similar circumstances in the past and knew that driving through such a large throng was not a good idea. A few months into the apocalypse, Emma and her grandfather had tried to drive through a pack of the undead. Shattered bone had punctured a tire and the blood and guts had gunked up the wheels. Her grandfather had barely saved them from the jam by reversing down the road until he could do a sharp U-turn. Even without the zombies, the current area wasn’t ideal for doing a U-turn in such a large vehicle.
“We’re stuck!” Arnold pounded on the steering wheel. “Nerit, this bus doesn’t have that much horsepower. I can’t risk a turn with all those zombies. They could be hiding things like boulders or barbeque pits that could take out the axle.”
“You said you could drive in reverse. It looks like you’ll have to do just that,” Nerit answered in such a way it was obvious that she wouldn’t allow an argument.
“Shit! Do you know how hard it’s going to be going down a winding road backwards with my tires slipping and zombies following and-”
“We don’t have a choice, do we?” Nerit motioned to the zombies crowding the area making maneuverability difficult, if not impossible. “And you said you could do it.”
“Fuckin’ fine! I need people on both sides of the bus guiding me!” Arnold changed gears, every movement agitated. “I can only see so much with these mirrors!”
“We’re on it,” Juan assured him.
Emma slid onto a seat on the left. “I’ll take this side.”
Monica took the seat opposite her. “I got the right.”
Juan ran down the aisle to the rear. “I’ve got the back end!”
The bus inched backwards down the narrow strip of asphalt curving sharply around the hill. It had been daunting on the journey up to lookout point, but it was downright terrifying traveling in reverse. The zombies crowded the short bus, beating on it while howling with hunger. The faster, stronger ones shoved aside the weaker of their kind. A towering zombie lunged out of the throng and startled Emma by slamming his massive fists against the grate covering the window she was gazing through.
Breaking her own rule, she reflexively glanced at his face. For a split second, she thought it was Stan, her long dead ex, and her heart leaped in her chest. Then she realized his nose was too big, his face too long, and his murky eyes too bulging. Additionally, she had put Stan to rest on the same day as her son.
The bus slid past the zombie, and he disappeared from view.
Despite her grit, she was shaken. It was foolish for her to believe she could have put the last year behind her so quickly. The ghosts of her past were on her heels no matter how much she tried to ignore them.
Pressing her hands to the glass to steady herself, she blotted out the mutilated faces of the dead screaming at her so she could concentrate on the task at hand. The bus maintained a good three feet from the guardrail and the brush lining the blacktop. Beyond the gnarled mesquite trees, the town dwelled below, appearing deceitfully tranquil.
“You’re good on the left,” Emma called out.
From the other side of the aisle, Monica chimed in, “Fine on the right.”
“So far, so good, boss,” Juan said from the rear of the bus.
Ted slid into the seat behind Emma’s and stared in horror at the thick bramble of trees lurking a few feet away. “We’re going to crash. You need to turn this bus around. This is dangerous!”
“Can’t turn around and risk getting hemmed in,” Emma replied.
“I’m not talking to you,” Ted snarled. “Driver, you need to turn around and-”
The bus ran over something large in the road, jarring them. Emma smacked her forehead against the glass while Ted’s face impacted with a meaty thud. It sent sparks shimmering through her eyesight and she blinked them away. The throbbing pain she could ignore, but the instant splitting headache made focusing a little more difficult.
Ted gripped his nose, blood seeping out from beneath his fingers. Stunned, he slumped on the bench. Emma switched seats, leaving Ted to whimper. At least now he wasn’t complaining.
A pack of faster zombies raced alongside the bus, leaping at the windows. A few succeeded in grabbing onto the metal grill welded over the windows to hoist themselves up, making it difficult for Emma to see past their squirming bodies.
“It’s hard to see with these assholes holding on!”
The engine growled, the gears grinding. Arnold hit the accelerator to pick up speed, probably hoping to escape the snarl of zombies clinging to the sides.
“I got one bugging me too.” Arnold sounded annoyed.
A quick look toward the front end revealed that the big zombie who reminded her earlier of Stan had clambered onto the hood near Arnold’s position. The zombie was struggling to tear off the windshield’s protection. The rattling sound of metal against glass filled the bus. The big zombie was determined to get inside and rip Arnold apart.
“Should I shoot this one?” Emma asked.
“Save your bullets. We might need them if we have to disembark and go on foot,” Nerit ominously replied.
“Fuck this guy!”
Arnold veered toward the low-hanging branches to knock off the zombie, a risky move on such a narrow road. The sound of the tree limbs hitting the bus was deafening. The big zombie clung to the grate, growling loudly. Nervously, Emma checked how close they were to the drop off. Although the branches striking the bus made it difficult to see, she spotted the rusted guardrail looming far too close to the tires.
“Arnold, you’re getting too close to the edge!”
Swerving back onto the road, Arnold struggled to keep the bus from shimmying. For a few seconds he fought the steering wheel until the bus was firmly back under his control.
“The protective guard is holding. You’re safe. Concentrate on driving, Arnold,” Nerit instructed.
“This zombie on the hood is doing a damn good job of scaring me shitless,” Arnold testily replied.
“Just keep driving.”
“He’s got the one corner of the grill bent back. You better save me if he breaks through the window!”
“It won’t happen.”
Emma had seen a fresh zombie shatter a window with its head, but it had taken on so much damage she’d easily dispatched it. Of course, she’d been in a parked car at the time and not driving backwards down a narrow incline. With Nerit at his side, Arnold was in a better position
than Emma had been.
“How am I on the left, Emma?” Arnold called out.
Once they hit the curve, there wouldn’t be any more trees on the left-hand side. “Trees are thinning out. You’re coming up on that big curve.”
“Clear on the right. So far,” Monica reported.
That was not unexpected since the rock face of the hillside was on Monica’s side.
Arnold again attempted to scrape the zombies off the side of the bus by running them through the low hanging branches of the trees lining the road. A few tumbled off into the greenery, but the big one continued his assault on the windshield grill. Zombies clung to the side of the vehicle, their claw-like fingers hooked into the protective mesh. There were a few digits without a body stuck in the metal grill near Emma.
“You might want to slow down!” Juan shouted. “We got zombies on the road. Looks like stragglers from the horde.”
“How many?” Nerit asked.
“Maybe thirty,” Juan replied.
“Older?”
“The slow ones, but they’re not too rotted,” Juan said.
“Can we catch a break?” Arnold groused.
The bus slowed as it neared the intimidating curve with the sharp drop off.
The view below was beautiful, but deadly with its steep incline and tall oak trees. Emma caught a flash of light from below. Concentrating on the spot, she made out the crumpled remains of a vehicle.
“Someone crashed below,” she said. “Looks like a Durango.”
Struggling with the wheel, Arnold said, “That won’t be us.”
Kurt spoke up. “It’s the other Durango that was with us. It went off the road trying to avoid the zombies.”
“We’re the only survivors,” Ted muttered. “No thanks to Ed. I never should have listened to him.”
“My dad was doing what he thought was best,” Kurt snapped back. “He gave his life so we had a chance to escape.”
“We’re not out of here yet. And this redheaded jackass can’t drive.” Ted gestured toward Arnold.
“You can get out! I’ll pull over and throw you out myself!” Arnold again shifted gears, the bus decelerating even more.
“Slowing down is not the best idea right now,” Juan said, waving toward the zombies.
“We’re on the curve. We don’t have a choice,” Nerit replied in her steely, no-nonsense way.
The bus backed into the small herd, the impact of their bodies against the exterior sending shudders through the frame. Blood and gore painted the rear windows and door in thick dark ochre. Emma was flung into the seatback in front of her. The impact stung her ribs, but she managed to grip the seat to stabilize herself. The bus shimmied, bouncing over zombie bodies and across the road to sideswipe several trees on the right. Arnold overcompensated, sending the bus in the opposite direction toward the drop off. It careened through the zombies, skidding toward the ledge.
Everyone on the bus shouted at the same time. “Stop!”
When Arnold hit the brakes, the bus slid along on the zombie muck for several more yards. Only Arnold’s expert skills kept them on the road. The bus sluggishly drifted along the curve, coming to a hard stop on the road’s narrow shoulder, striking the guard rail. The barrier absorbed the energy from the impact, saving them from a plunge over the side.
Emma barely kept on her feet throughout the ordeal and landed with a hard thump on the seat when the bus came to a rocking stop. Pulling herself upright, she warily glanced at the view outside her window. They were scarily close to falling down the hillside. While Arnold fought with the gear shift and the engine grumbled as he attempted to pull away from the edge, the surviving zombies crowded the bus.
“What’s wrong?” Ted demanded. “We need to move!”
“Arnold, we got a shit-ton of zombies pushing up on my side,” Monica said, completely ignoring Ted’s panic.
“I can’t get traction.” Arnold continued to struggle up front, the engine roaring.
“We’ve got a tire hanging over the edge,” Juan said from the back. “That’s why we’re not moving.”
Nerit remained silent as she scrutinized the situation, moving from one side of the bus to the other. At last she said, “Stop, Arnold. We can’t move until we clear the area and sort out how to get this bus moving before the next wave of zombies arrives.”
Ted blotted his broken nose with the hem of his shirt. “They’re going to push us off the hill! We’ll go over the edge. We have to go now!”
Monica pointed to the back door. “You want to go on foot? Be my guest.”
“Should I call it in?” Arnold asked Nerit.
“Another vehicle won’t fit up here safely. They’d also have to back down the road. There’s no room to turn around. That being said, let them know our situation.”
“You have to call for help!” Ted shouted at Nerit. “We can’t stay here!”
Eyes blazing, Monica poked Ted’s arm to get his attention. She shushed him as Arnold started to speak with the Fort. “We’re working on a plan, Ted.”
Staring down the slope of the hill, Emma listened to the arguing voices. When she’d been on her own, her choices had shaped her fate. Now whether she lived or died was dependent on others.
It was unsettling.
Hearing footfalls behind her, she glanced over her shoulder to see Nerit sliding open a window and aiming her sniper rifle through a gap in the metal mesh. She hesitated, closing it back up without firing.
“We’re at a bad angle. Kurt, take my pistol and start thinning out the zombies up against the bus. Use the portholes and be careful. The zombies will try to snatch the gun right out of your hand. Juan, Arnold, figure out how to get this bus moving. Emma, follow me. Monica, grab the bag of ammo.” Nerit handed her firearm to the badly sunburned man then a few more magazines. “Can you handle this?”
Kurt nodded. “I’ve got it covered.”
“What should I do?” Ted asked.
“Sit there and be quiet.” The look on the older woman’s face instantly quashed any of his protests. “No more arguments. We kill the zombies, find a way to get this bus moving, and go home.”
Without another word, Nerit climbed onto the back of one of the seats and lifted herself onto the roof.
Picking up her rifle, Emma followed.
23
On The Edge
The hot wind blasted Emma’s face, reeking of the dead crowding the bus nestled into the scrub brush and guardrail on the shoulder. Beyond the sharp drop off was the breathtaking view of the greenery of the countryside and the town nestled into the hills. On the other side of the narrow road, the imposing rock face rose up to Lookout Point. They'd only have to worry about zombies approaching on the road. That made the situation a little more manageable.
A gunshot fired from within the bus drowned out the unsettling moans of the zombies beating on the sides of the vehicle.
“We need to cull the numbers. Emma, help Kurt clear the area around the bus,” Nerit ordered. “I'll take care the ones coming down the hill.”
The sun was higher in the morning sky and blazed down on them, the metal beneath their feet and knees scorching hot. Emma set her rifle aside and shrugged the harness Monica had used earlier over her shoulders. Nerit hoisted her sniper rifle and took up a position close to the front of the shuddering bus. Monica appeared, tossing a bag onto the roof and pulling herself up.
“I'll reload,” she said.
Emma scooted closer to the edge of the bus. She deliberately tightened the line and leaned forward to get a good view of the assault on the bus. A handgun was better at this range, so she set the rifle to the side and pulled out her first pistol. Below her, the upturned dead faces with hungry eyes and snapping jaws were the monsters of her waking hours and nightmares. Their blackened skin, snarled hair, and torn clothing obliterated most of their humanity, but there were a few that retained some semblance of who they’d once been. This was the part she didn't enjoy. Observing life-like faces and wonderin
g if there was anything left of a soul trapped in the rotting corpses. One woman was wearing her nurse scrubs. Another was in a school uniform. A smaller zombie, clearly a child, was wearing its school backpack. Shaking her head, Emma tried to keep herself from falling into the trap of feeling compassion for the creatures. She glanced at the nurse, and the zombie woman's head jerked as one of Kurt's bullets blew out her brains.
“You okay?” Monica called out.
“I'm fine. Just getting the lay of the land.”
The rocking of the bus forced her to make some adjustments to her stance. She found the rhythm and it helped her aim. Kurt killed the zombies rammed up against the windows, but it was increasingly obvious why he needed Emma's help. The ones pushing up from behind pinned the dead zombies to the side of the bus forming a shield. That meant she should concentrate on the outer edge.
Emma took a mental note of the bullets she'd already fired from the weapon earlier, calculating how many shots she could fire before reloading.
She slid her finger over the trigger.
She pulled.
The pistol fired with a sharp pop.
One bullet, one zombie gone.
“Like shooting fish in a barrel,” Monica said.
It was a phrase Emma's grandfather had often used and her heart ached with the loss of him. He used to be her partner when she went on her killing runs, and now he was gone. Just like her son, Stan, and most of the world.
Emma aimed at the next zombie and dispatched it.
Behind her, Nerit fired her sniper rifle at regular intervals, only pausing to reload.
Emma counted each of her shots, handed off the magazine to Monica, and slapped a freshly loaded one into the pistol.
“Can someone kill this muthafucker trying to break the window?” Arnold yelled from within the bus.
Monica slid across the top of the roof on her tummy, hooked her foot onto a handhold to keep herself secure, and aimed with her Glock at the target. The pistol fired and the sound of something heavy falling down the hillside followed.
As The World Dies | Book 4 | After Siege Page 18
