by Brown, TW
Juan looked both directions and sighed with relief to find the entire strip of sand totally empty of any signs of people. Tigah woofed happily and Juan was struck by just how wonderful it must be to not have a care in the world.
He took three steps onto the sand when a voice called out that made him whip around with the rifle. “Juan! What the hell is going on? It sounds like a freaking war zone!”
Shielding his eyes did little to improve his vision. All Juan saw was a black shape in the tower about twenty yards up the beach. He told himself that it would not have mattered if he had been able to make out a face. He would have drawn a blank with the name.
“It’s a damn slaughter,” Juan hollered back. “And we’re on the losing end. Get out of here any way that you can!”
Juan didn’t wait for any further questions. He made a run for one of the dozen or so boats still tied up to the long dock. He found one that looked big enough for him and Tigah, unclipped the lanyard and unwound the line that had been tied off to an algae-slicked pier stanchion.
“Let’s go, fella,” Juan called.
The huge black dog bounded and hopped, clearly having the time of his life. Reaching the water, Tigah did what any Newfoundland would do, he plunged in and sent a wave at Juan that had him soaked from head to toe before he could think to protect himself.
Sputtering and coughing, Juan wiped his eyes to find the dog looking at him with tongue lolling and what sure as hell looked to him like a smile. Juan smacked the side of the boat and called for the dog. It took two tries and almost capsized the boat, but at last the two were in. Juan used one of the oars that had been lying at the bottom of the craft and shoved away from the dock. Paddling as hard as he could to get some distance from the shore, Juan ignored the multiple shouts directed at him. His responsibility to the people of that island was done. The only person that he felt any sort of responsibility or allegiance to was Mackenzie.
He knew where she would be provided that she had done exactly as they had planned. As he paddled, all he could do was trust that she would be there.
The sounds of gunfire caused him to look back. Several figures were out on the beach now. He could not tell who was on what side, but it did not take long for an obvious victor to emerge. And when the ones that were left began lobbing explosives into the towers, he had no doubts any longer. The island had fallen.
He had no idea who these people were, and he would probably never know why they had done what they had done. A part of him screamed that this was karma for all the crap that he had done in his life. Who had he thought he was trying to live happily ever after? What had he ever done to deserve such a safe and secure place to call home while so many others out there suffered and struggled?
Juan rowed hard to get as far away from the beach of Sauvie Island as possible and to the other side of the Columbia River. That would put him in Washington State; that had been the fallback point he and Mackenzie settled on. There was a massive park or wildlife preserve according to the wooden signs that he had seen the one time he had actually gone over and checked the place out.
Tigah began woofing and Juan looked around to see what had the dog so excited. Apparently he had been paddling hard, or maybe he had been daydreaming, because the shore was only about ten or twenty yards away. His heart leapt when he was able to make out two boats beached on the shore. The occupants had taken the time to drag them onto the beach and at least partway into the tall grass. The bodies of three downed zombies told him why they had only partially hidden the boats.
The moment that his boat ground into the sandy shore, Juan jumped out. Tigah followed, running around until something made the normally hyper dog come to a halt and lower his front end. A low growl escaped the animal’s muzzle and Juan was momentarily shocked. He could not ever recall hearing the dog growl; not even playfully.
“Easy, boy,” Juan breathed.
He pulled his sword free and started towards the trees and tall grass where he saw obvious signs that somebody had passed. It was not that Juan was any sort of outdoor tracker, but the path was noticeably new and very wide, like they had gone in four or five across.
He had just slipped under the shadows of the trees when he heard a scream. He and Tigah acted almost in unison as the pair took off at a run.
Juan could feel his pulse in his temples and his heart threatened to burst through his chest. This entire time, he had been able to shove down the possibility that Mackenzie was lost. That scream had taken the thought he had not dared to give any purchase to and slammed it into the front of his mind.
Breaking into the first clearing, Juan saw several zombies lumbering towards an opening on the other side. That made his decision all the easier. Apparently it did the same for Tigah. The big dog leapt forward and barreled over the closest zombie it could find.
Juan wanted to call the dog off, but his first priority was Mackenzie, He had to trust that the animal knew what it was doing. And so, with sword in one hand—its three-foot blade catching a hint of the sun—and a knife in the other, Juan advanced. He did not go out of his way and kept his attack focused on the zombies that were within easy reach.
On a few occasions, Juan would simply shove the undead aside. His main concern was to reach the source of what were now shrieks of terror mixed with the voices of women shouting and the ever present moans, groans, and cries of the undead.
Juan ducked under one fallen tree and tripped over the body of a little girl and the defunct corpse of a zombie that still had the screwdriver sticking out from its temple. He scrambled up and was knocked over again as Tigah galloped past. The screams were close and they had changed. In the midst of the fear were the distinct sounds of pain that could only be made by a person being torn apart and eaten alive.
Just as Juan regained his feet, he heard the yelp of a dog. Cursing, Juan sprinted the remaining distance to a very small clearing. The scene before him was bedlam.
Some of the children had managed to climb into the lower branches of the nearby trees. Five women, a few looking to be in their early teens, had formed a circle, backs to one another as the undead came at them. Juan figured there to be close to fifty of the monsters, but hanging back and peering out from the bushes and from behind a few of the trees were another dozen of the undead…children!
Tigah was in the midst of the main pack of zombies, his dark fur looked matted and soaked in places. Juan wanted to feel sadness, he could see one flap of fur peeled back and knew that dogs suffered the same fate as humans when bitten by the undead, but his eyes quickly returned to the circle of five. Mackenzie was facing away from him, but he knew her instantly even with protective gear that included a motorcycle helmet with face shield.
Glancing to his left, a pair of the zombie children had emerged slightly from their cover to regard his arrival. Juan actually took a step back as he felt like he was being studied by these nightmarish horrors. To him, zombie children were perhaps the most frightening thing in the world…with the exception of the living kind anyways.
He was a bit surprised as the tiny undead seemed to be more intent on watching him than on attacking. However, the moment he turned to face them and brought his sword to bear, both let out a mewling groan and came with arms extended and mouths open to show blood stained teeth.
“Juan! Behind you!” a voice yelled.
Juan recognized the voice, but he was so taken aback by the seemingly instant transformation of the zombie children from observers to attackers that he could not devote the resources to sort out who it was that had screamed. Then something slammed into his back and sent him sprawling on the ground.
***
Glenn looked over his shoulder. The herd was still on his tail. He managed to keep them about ten or twenty yards from him at all times. He had started off walking backwards until he bumped into a zombie that had seemed to appear out of nowhere.
That little encounter had come damn close to ending him as he shoved it away and tripped over his own two feet
in the process. By the time he had recovered and made it to his feet, the leading edge of the herd was less than a dozen feet away. In fact, a couple in the lead probably saved his ass when they tripped and fell. That caused a bit of a domino effect as several more stumbled over the downed pair.
Scrambling away, Glenn had decided that it was best to take a “sprint and drift” approach. He would jog a short distance and then walk a few steps before stopping to turn and take a look and ensure that the herd remained interested in him.
Besides just getting the zombies away from that entrance to the school, he had another task. He was supposed to actually take them on a big circuit that would eventually lead them right back to where they started. It was all part of Cynthia’s master plan.
The plan was for Cynthia to try and find a way into the school. She was supposed to make sure that the entrance was clear so that he could lead his zombies to it and get them to follow him inside. Once that was done, he was supposed to get out of the school any way and as quickly as possible. On the other side of the athletic fields was a car dealership. That was their rally point. From there, it would be a tough but plausible run north.
On the plus side of things, they would be able to use the now ruined neighborhoods to act as cover. On the bad side, they had no idea what they might run into. If he gave it too much thought, Glenn would start to see the small cracks in Cynthia’s plan as they became huge chasms. Each time the doubts began to arise, he shook them off. He had to trust her.
As he made a stop at the intersection where he would be making his first turn, he saw a few of the zombies almost appear to put on a little burst of speed as if they thought that he had finally given up. Of course a burst of speed for a zombie amounted to nothing more than a medium-paced walk. Hell, if it was not for the sun, he would not even be breaking a sweat.
When he resumed walking, Glenn kept his pace just fast enough to keep a regular distance between himself and the zombies. He figured he might lose some along the way, but he wanted as many as possible to stay with him and be there to flood this school-turned-hideout.
Of course there was still the chance that this place was not the right location. There was the chance that none of the information Cynthia had forced out of their prisoner had been correct. And then there was the whole part of whether or not they could actually find the baby…that woman…and escape with their lives. There were just so many “ifs” in this situation.
Once he was confident that the herd was still willing to follow him, he picked up his pace to the next corner. He was about to make the turn that would start taking him back to the school when he pulled up. He could make out what might be the top of the school from his current location. There was a pillar of smoke just starting to roll skyward. It was thick enough to still withstand the breeze and not dissipate.
There was nothing in the plan that could be the reason for what he was seeing. That could only mean one thing to Glenn: something was wrong! Taking off at a sprint, Glenn no longer cared about the zombies on his heels. The only thing that mattered was Cynthia.
As he ran, he began to curse himself. What had he been thinking? He had just stepped aside and listened quietly as Cynthia planned what had been a fool’s errand from the start. She was going to die. There was no reason he should expect her to be able to slip in like some freaking commando, steal back the baby, assassinate the evil villain, and then emerge to meet him where they would kiss and then head off into the sunset.
He still had a slight dogleg to round before he would have a better view. His heart was pounding and he felt sick to his stomach. He should have demanded that Cynthia give up on this dangerous undertaking. He was her husband and sworn to protect her. Instead, he had done little more than run away again and leave her to a terrible fate! He could try to make an excuse for when he’d abandoned Mel and Kyle, but this was his wife!
“I’m so sorry, Cynthia!” He ran as fast as he could. “We should have just gotten your strength back and put this place behind us,” he growled as he came around that gradual bend and could now see the school clearly.
Sure enough, there was smoke rising from someplace well back in the actual school complex itself. To make matters worse, he had not managed to clear the entrance of all of the undead. There were still far too many for him to fight through. Their entire plan had hedged on the idea that they be able to open the doors and have the zombies act as a distraction. There was no scenario that he could even begin to imagine where they were able to succeed without that element.
He was less than a half a block away from the T-intersection and the school when a group of men carrying guns, some in uniforms, ran past. He dove into the closest yard and craned his neck to get a look at the wall of undead that were curb-to-curb and coming up the street. He had to make a decision, but before he could, there was an eruption of gunfire. Fortunately, there was plenty of trees and shrubbery shielding him not only from view of the armed group, but from their bullets as well.
He moved down the side of the house, pausing to take one more look at the zombies. Several had fallen in the hailstorm of bullets, but it hadn’t really made a dent. It was obvious that the detachment of men figured out pretty much the same thing, because they stopped firing and he could hear their shouts growing just a bit distant.
There was a moment of relative silence that was only interrupted by the sounds of many shuffling feet and the occasional moan. Glenn was confused, but he knew that he could not stay hidden in the side yard of this house. He had to get to the school and try to see what might have befallen his beloved Cynthia.
Reaching the gate that opened into the back yard, Glenn tried to open the latch, but found that it had rusted to the point where the entire latch mechanism was fused. He had no choice but to pull himself up. When he did, he found himself staring down at what had once been a pair of Beagles.
One of the creatures had an ear torn off and most of its tail gone. The other looked to have been ripped open at the belly. Of course both had suffered these fates long ago and now were filthy putrid masses of patchy, mottled skin with bits of fur still clinging in places. The pair were staring up at him, mouths open and dark fluid dripping from black tongues.
“Jesus!” Glenn could not help but yell. Actually, it was more of a shriek, and he would have been embarrassed had there been anybody nearby to hear it.
The moan of a zombie came from behind him. In that instant, he was very quickly reminded that he was not alone. He turned to see a few zombies peeling off from the main group and coming his way through the waist-high brush and weeds.
With little options, Glenn decided on the one he felt gave him the best chance. He vaulted over the fence, leaping and landing as far from the zombified Beagles as possible. Regaining himself, he drew his machete and made quick work of the two dogs just as the first zombie began to paw and slap at the tall wooden gate that would give access to this back yard.
Not bothering to wait and see how long the fence might hold, he took off once more. He would have to climb over a few more fences and cut through a few more yards, but he would be able to remain out of sight from the living and the undead.
Reaching the last yard, he was a little surprised as he crept into the front yard and realized that it was the very house that he had taken cover in when they had started this fiasco. He could still see his red streamers fluttering. The big difference was that there was a herd of undead passing by on the street.
That…and the sounds of men shouting for somebody to “Halt!”
***
Ronni looked up to see Brett standing with several others. The double doors to the barn flew open and she could not count all the heads. There looked to be at least twenty more people in there. This was worse than she thought.
“Now hold on!” Dustin snapped, but the crowd in the barn rushed them.
Ronni turned to run, but a hand caught her by the hair and yanked her back. She spun and lashed out with a foot, connecting with the groin of the thirt
y-something-year-old man that had obviously thought her an easy target. He dropped to the ground in a strained yelp and Ronni took off.
“Get help!” she heard Scott yell.
Yeah, she was going to get help alright; just probably not the kind Scott thought she was getting. As she ran, she noticed people stopping to give her strange looks. It was not until she had passed the fourth or fifth person that she thought to yell, “There is an attack at the big barn!”
She was not about to elaborate. If she yelled attack, then people would probably just assume the worst and grab a weapon. Of course, if they were on Brett’s side, then she was making things worse. She just could not be bothered with that at the moment.
Cutting between two of the new houses being built, Ronni sprinted across what was going to be the corn field. A few individuals were working, but they took off in the other direction as soon as she yelled out her alarm.
As she approached the big Quonset hut, she noticed Tina Curry standing watch. She liked Tina. This would work in her favor since she knew that the woman had a huge crush on Dustin. They had talked about it the last time that she had stayed over at the woman’s house.
Holy cow, she thought, that had been when my dad had been sent on that mission to look into supplies at some truck stop. That had also been when she had volunteered to go help search for that group of missing children.
“What’s got you so worked up, Ronni?” the woman asked in her peculiar accent. Tina was originally from Philadelphia and she sounded funny to Ronni when she spoke. It was like listening to a female version of that Rocky guy from one of her mom’s favorite movies.
“They are attacking over at the big barn!” Ronni panted.
The woman unslung the rifle on her shoulder. “You stay here…ain’t nobody gonna try and do anything here. Plus, this is about as far from the fences as you can get. Any damn zombies that got into this place will have to walk forever to reach you. But just in case…” The woman took off her webbed belt and handed it over to Ronni with the holstered pistol and a pouch holding two spare mags. “You shouldn’t be out and about without a weapon anyways. Place ain’t safe these days.”
