by Brown, TW
“Okay,” Cary said weakly and closed his eyes. “You do that, and I’ll be right here.”
Heather gave Kevin one last concerned look, he hadn’t budged. He still sat, staring straight ahead. She didn’t care what anybody thought, and she was pretty sure that Kevin wouldn’t even remember; so, before she left she leaned down and kissed Kevin on the cheek.
Nothing.
Stepping through the first couple of rows weren’t too bad, but by the time she’d put several dozen behind her, Heather began to feel a bit nervous. She hadn’t been alone, not like this anyways, in quite some time. It began to seem like there was truly no end to this field. Then she saw it…open ground!
Stopping a couple of rows from the edge, she watched for any sign of movement. Nothing at all passed by. Slowly, she crept the last couple of rows. Her heart pounded loud enough that she was certain that if there were any zombies near, they’d hear it. Her mouth was even drier than before.
That last row was like approaching the edge of a cliff. Her hands trembled, and it became strangely difficult to control her breathing. Parting the wide leaves with her hands, Heather peeked out. A narrow two-lane road was on the other side of the barbed wire fence that stretched in both directions.
Nothing moved. It was silent. She had to concentrate to hear the sounds of the fire left so far behind. Across the street she spotted a double-wide trailer. It was still attached to the hauler and had gone part way into the ditch on the far side of the road. Of course, it was only one half of the mobile home. The wall of black plastic was intact, which she took as a good sign. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do for now. If she could get Cary and Kevin inside, even at the angle it sat, at least they could rest up for a bit. She could go out on her own and scrounge up some food and water.
Yep, she thought, that would have to do.
***
Cary glanced over at Kevin. The man hadn’t budged. He was still staring blankly straight ahead. At least he’d quit mumbling. Now there was nothing but the quiet…and the distant roaring of a fire. There was no hint of the sounds of the undead. That was what he really wanted to listen for. He knew that if he did hear them it was probably too late. Both of the worst possible ways to die in Cary’s opinion were definite risks today: fire and zombies.
“Cary,” a voice whispered.
“Right here,” Cary said looking around confused. Had he closed his eyes? He glanced over at Kevin. The movement hurt something terrible. Where was Kevin? He’d just been right—
“Cary,” the voice was more urgent this time. It was somewhere behind him. “Where’s Heather?”
He heard the rustling of the cornstalks behind him and rolled his head around to try and get a better look. Kevin pushed through the long, brown leaves and stepped uneasily into the row.
“Where’s Heather, Cary?”
“She went to look for a way out of this infernal cornfield.”
“By herself?” Kevin asked, visibly alarmed.
“Before you get your panties in a bunch, that little girl is the reason you…hell both of us…are alive right now.”
“What’re you talkin’ about?”
Cary explained all that had transpired in the past couple of hours as best he could remember. A few times he had to stop and take a few deep breaths when the pain spiked. He couldn’t ever remember hurting so bad in his life.
“How long has she been gone?” Kevin asked after Cary finished recounting events.
“I honestly don’t know,” Cary sighed. “I was sitting here, and must’ve dozed off. I remember thinking that my chances of dying were pretty high, and that of my two choices…fire or zombies…neither were very appealing. That, and I was glad that you’d finally quit mumbling.”
“Maybe I can help you get up and we can go find her,” Kevin offered.
“If we move, she might come back here and miss us in passing,” Cary said, mostly because he didn’t relish the thought of moving.
“Well—”
A sound cut Kevin’s argument off. The sounds of the cornstalks rustling were growing louder, but it was too difficult to tell from which direction. Kevin’s hands went instinctively to his weapons…which were long gone.
“Here.” Cary handed the hunting knife he kept on his belt up to Kevin.
“What’ll you use?” Kevin hesitated.
“You,” Cary smiled weakly.
“Huh?” Kevin missed the joke.
“You’re my weapon, dumbass,” Cary said as he fought down a cough.
“Oh.”
Kevin took the knife and tried to pinpoint the sound. He was so disoriented; the tall stalks on every side didn’t help much as he struggled to get his bearings. Plus, the tops of the plants were a good foot or so above his head. He turned and caught a whiff of something. It was the smell of—
A tiny body crashed through the stalks and he was out of position. He’d need to step over Cary to get to it. The little girl, a toddler really, had a huge chunk of its chubby upper-thigh missing. It was naked and filthy, a long line of dark drool hanging from its chin. Tiny hands reached out and its mouth opened. A sickly wheezing groan that made the hair on Kevin’s arms stand up issued forth. A second later, it was answered by a chorus.
“Shit!” Kevin cursed.
“Aww, hell!” Cary echoed the sentiment.
Not sure how many were coming, Kevin stepped across his friend and grabbed the matted mop of curly brown hair with one hand and plunged the five-inch blade into a milky eye socket. A slight twist of the wrist for effect, and he let the body collapse to the ground.
“You ain’t got a choice now,” Kevin hissed. He knelt down and felt his entire body protest. “We gotta get you on your feet and move. We’ll try to follow the direction Heather went.”
“I can’t.” Cary shook his head.
“Bullshit!” Kevin protested. “I’ll help you. Now c’mon!”
“No,” Cary said. “I’m serious.” He coughed, unable to hold it back this time. It felt as if his entire insides were torn. Blood flecked his lips and dribbled down his chin. “I want to…trust me, buddy. But I just can’t.”
A new chorus of groans and moans of the undead drifted through the cornstalks in response to Cary’s cough. It almost sounded as if they were surrounded. Kevin looked around nervously.
“Kev,” Cary’s voice made him jump, “you gotta go, man.”
“I’m not leaving you…not again,” Kevin croaked over the growing lump in his throat.
“Look,” Cary clutched his friend’s pant leg, “it ain’t like last time. This time, I’m done. Something inside me feels… busted. You can’t leave Heather alone. She won’t last one day.”
“I can’t leave you here to get eaten,” Kevin said shaking his head. The distant sounds of the dead were getting closer.
“So give me the knife.” Cary reached up.
“There’s too many,” Kevin said, now able to hear the cornstalks being trampled by the approaching zombies. Looking up he could make out the tips of some of the plants several rows over shaking, then plunging out of sight.
“But at least I go down fighting instead of just letting them take me.”
“I can’t just—”
“We don’t have time to talk anymore, Kevin,” Cary interrupted. “You did the right thing by me once…giving me a chance. Don’t change up now.”
“I can help you.”
“No,” Cary insisted. “You can’t. And even if you did… something is seriously wrong…here.” Cary pointed to his stomach.
“Cary…” Kevin tried to argue, but he couldn’t. He took a good look at his friend. He was pale, even more so than he’d been just moments ago. Blood trickled from his lips and a little was starting to bubble out the nostrils. He handed Cary the knife. “I wish…” his voice trailed off. He could see them through the corn. They were only a few rows away now. And there were so, so many.
“Go!” Cary coughed again, this time a thick plug of blood came up.
&nb
sp; Kevin rose to his feet. Something in his neck felt really bad, and both of his knees felt as if they’d been hit with hammers. But none of that compared to the pounding in his skull. His vision wavered for a moment, and he thought he might end up back on the ground. He swallowed the wave of nausea and kept his feet. He took one last look at Cary who gave him a weak salute.
“Take care of Heather, dude,” Cary said around a mouthful of bloody saliva. “And remember…this ain’t the movies.” Cary grinned big, which looked more than a little creepy considering the blood dripping from both corners of his mouth and the fact that his teeth were all stained red.
Kevin turned and slowly staggered through the rows of corn. His body found a rhythm and he was several yards away when he heard the scream. Cary won’t be coming back from this one, Kevin thought. He stopped fighting the tears, and pretty soon, his vision was a watery haze.
He didn’t see the figure coming towards him until he ran smack dab into it. The impact was enough to send a shockwave of pain through him, but when he fell back on the ground, it was too much. This time he couldn’t fight back the nausea. Kevin heaved, which made a bad situation worse. He felt hands clutch his arm and he wished he’d stayed with Cary. At least that way they could’ve gone out together.
***
Cary looked up. He saw them coming, and knew he’d be lucky if he managed to take out one before vanishing under the mob. Taking the knife, he looked down at the bluish lines on his left wrist. One quick slash and blood welled up, and then began to pour from the cut. He switched hands with the knife and repeated the process.
“Fuck you all,” Cary spat.
The mob converged, pouring through the final row that separated them from their prey. C’mon, bleed faster, Cary thought. If Kevin wouldn’t have turned this into a debate, he’d be dead by now.
The first set of cold, dead hands grabbed him, and teeth tore into the meat of his right arm. Try as he might, he couldn’t summon the strength to break free. Another set of teeth latched onto his left cheek and Cary did the only thing he had strength for…he screamed. Hands ripped at his clothes and jagged nails cut into his stomach. Then, new pain. Blood actually exploded from his gut where it had been pooling from the several internal injuries he’d suffered.
The pain was beyond description as he saw things being pulled from his body. Then…it was gone. Cary’s scream faded and his eyes glazed over. Those feasting on his entrails continued to do so, but those tearing at his body quickly lost interest and rose up, wandering after the others.
A moment later, Cary sat up. Awkwardly he rose to his feet, stumbling past the priest and the gray-haired old lady involved in a grisly tug-of-war over a strand of his intestine. Falling in with the mob, he joined the march. Something “told” him that there was food nearby.
***
“Kevin?” Heather grabbed the man’s shoulder, doing her best to help him roll over onto his back. “Where’s Cary?” She’d heard the scream…but she still refused to believe it.
“Heather,” Kevin said, the relief ringing clear in his voice, “I am so glad I found you.”
“Me, too,” Heather looked up, she could hear them coming, and even with the wind blowing towards what she knew to be a large herd of zombies, she could smell them, “but where’s Cary?”
Kevin only shook his head, tears continuing to stream freely down his cheeks. It was sad…and Heather wanted to cry also, but now wasn’t the time.
“We have to get moving.” Heather stood, extending a hand to the man still sprawled at her feet.
Slowly, and in obvious pain, Kevin got up. As they limped through the rows of corn, Heather told Kevin about her find. She was equally proud that she’d found something that might be a little better: a van. It was up the road a couple hundred yards. It was full of tools and it started when she’d turned the key still fortunately hanging from the ignition.
After another eternity, they reached the road. It was now time for the moment of truth: the trailer or the van. Heather looked expectantly at Kevin. She’d done her part, now it was time for him to make a decision. It was important somehow. All Heather could think of was that old axiom about falling off a horse. Kevin’s last set of plans—the last decision he’d made for the group—ended poorly. It wasn’t so much that it was his fault; just that the bomb turned out to be too strong.
As Cary was so fond of saying, this wasn’t the movies. If it were, then the bomb would’ve been perfect, taking out the bad guys while leaving them unscathed. The fires wouldn’t have started and they’d be in the farmhouse watching the zombies shuffle past, leaving Heath open for them to pick clean.
“The van,” Kevin said through clenched teeth. It was obvious that he was in considerable pain.
Together, they hobbled along the road towards the van. On the side was blue lettering which read simply: John’s Plumbing. Both of them were trying to look everywhere at once, neither feeling all that comfortable with being out in the open. Also, it was hot! Heat shimmered up from the black asphalt, and a water mirage rippled in the distance, always staying out of reach.
Why hadn’t she brought the van closer? Heather wondered now. She hadn’t been thinking clearly. Also, she remembered how startled she’d been at the sound of the van’s engine roaring to life. She was lucky she hadn’t broken the key off in the ignition she’d turned it off so quick. Still, it wouldn’t have hurt any to just drive up that relatively short distance that now seemed eternal as they basically ran for their lives.
They reached it and Kevin climbed into the driver’s seat. Heather closed his door and rushed around to the other side. Climbing in, she rolled down the window to allow some of the heat to escape. It didn’t seem to help much.
“Where to, Miss Daisy,” Kevin affected a very poor imitation of a drawl.
“I know someplace!” Heather suddenly brightened. “There is a dairy farm about five miles that way.” She pointed back over her shoulder. “It’s all by itself in the middle of nowhere between here and Newark.”
“Sounds like the ticket,” Kevin agreed and started the van. It sounded rough. He shifted into reverse and, after a bit of finagling, he got it turned around. He glanced up as he shifted into drive and began up the long, empty road. The leading edge of the zombie mob was just emerging from the cornfield.
“Turn left at the tee-intersection,” Heather instructed.
“If I go right, can you get me there another way?” Kevin asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“Because I’d rather not lead that mob to our new hideout.”
Heather mentally smacked her forehead. There she was not thinking things through again. She’d better start if today was any indication. Not that she wanted it, but at any moment, she could be on her own.
***
They’d ditched the van about a mile away. Kevin climbed into the back and came out with a huge, red pipe-wrench and a three-pound sledge hammer. Then, he locked up the van and pocketed the keys.
“I don’t think anybody will steal it,” Heather laughed.
“No,” Kevin agreed, “but if somebody breaks in, we’ll know because, chances are, they’ll bust out a window. Also, if this van is here, it might come in handy if we need to bug out in a hurry, but I don’t want to park it in front of where we’ll be staying. It might draw attention.”
“How do you do it?” Heather asked as they ducked through the barbed wire fence and began crossing the expansive field that once served as a pasture for the Simon Stanley Farm cows.
“Do what?” Kevin said as he glanced over his shoulder. All it would take is one zombie to ruin this as a potential hideout and temporary resting place.
“You always seem to have everything thought out five steps ahead.”
“You think so?” his voice grew soft.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Cary, Mike, and Darrin would say otherwise.”
“Well, I didn’t know Darrin, but I talked to Mike. He said if you woulda tried anything that
night, all three of you would've probably ended up dead,” Heather said. “And Mike? How could that be your fault? Cary?”
“Both died because of my plan…my single-mindedness about rescuing—”
“Ruth,” Heather cut him off. “Yep. But don’t you see? You’re doing something. We could’ve all just left you to it. We’ve followed you because, through it all, you’re doing something. You didn’t make us go out there. We did it because it is right to want to help people. It is right to not want to allow bad people to do the things those men are doing.”
“But I’ve gotten everybody killed!” Kevin insisted and came to a stop in the middle of the vast, empty pasture. “My friends are gone. Dead. Hell…I fucked up so bad, I got one of ‘em killed twice!”
“People are dying everywhere,” Heather countered, turning to face Kevin. “I sat in a basement and watched all my friends die and turn into those…things. And if that weren’t bad enough…I had to watch…” her voice trailed off as tears began to trickle down both cheeks. “I’ve tried to forget it. Tried to push it someplace where I could forget about it. Only…it’s too crowded in there.”
Kevin stared down at Heather, and for the first time, he saw her not as just a school girl he’d helped rescue, he saw a young woman doing everything possible to survive. And now, she was all he had. Each of them were all the other could turn to in this nightmare. Stepping close, he took her in his arms and held her close. For just a moment, they were both oblivious to the world as they clutched one another and found just a bit of comfort. They were two survivors.
After a moment, they slowly relinquished the grip each held on the other. Looking around as if just realizing that they were standing out in an open field, they joined hands and walked towards the house.
Heather considered the hand she held now for that tiny bit of comfort it gave. Only an hour earlier, her heart would’ve been fluttering in her chest. Now…something was different. The crush is gone, she thought. For a moment, she sought any of those feelings that had kept her in such a haze the past several days. Nothing. So what did she feel? Closeness, certainly. But it was the closeness of comradeship…of shared experience.
