by Jeff Olah
The smaller group fought to free itself from the maze of abandoned vehicles, weaving slowly from one row to the next. The first few spilled out onto the street ahead of Tom and his new friend. And glancing back over his shoulder, he could see them filling in the empty spots among the first group.
Shifting his weight and continuing toward the left side of the street, Tom looked for the woman to follow. She did. And as they sprinted diagonally across the intersection, he began looking for an out. Somewhere they could rest. Somewhere to catch their breath, even for just a moment.
They’d been running for less than two minutes, but he was nearly out of gas. His legs burned, he could feel his heart beating in his face, and as she pulled ahead, he began to slow.
“Hey.”
She turned, but kept running.
Tom’s stride began to fail, and as her lead grew to more than twenty feet, he called out. “I gotta stop for a minute.”
She slowed, but only enough to look back and shake her head. Raising her left arm, she motioned him forward.
The back of his right leg began to tighten. Near where the lower portion of his hamstring met his calf. It jolted him back and pulled what little breath remained in his scorched lungs. He limped for another few feet and then it came on with a vengeance.
Grasping the back of his right leg, Tom tripped and fell forward. He was weightless for half a second and then cursed as his left shoulder contacted the unforgiving concrete. Momentum carried him forward and his feet came up over his head, ejecting the nine millimeter from his waistband. And as he collapsed into a heap next to a city garbage can, the woman spoke for only the third time.
Her voice came out much different than before. It was hard. It was intense. And although it was only one word, it was all that was necessary.
“NO!”
Tom watched her face contort and followed her eyes to the edge of the sidewalk. He was able to see the pistol at the last second. It skipped off the edge of the curb and disappeared. Next, the world went silent as Tom held his breath.
The sound of metal on metal and then nothing.
As the muscles along the back of his leg spasmed and then began to cramp, another shockwave forced him onto his side. The pain that radiated up into his hamstring was now bordering on monumental—it felt like he was losing consciousness. He dug his fingers into the knot and tried to straighten his leg. No relief.
With the advancing crowd now numbering in the hundreds and closing in fast, Tom dragged himself to the edge of the sidewalk. The woman had beaten him there and stood looking down at the storm drain. Slowly and painfully sliding his legs out from under himself, he looked down into the empty gutter and then back up at her.
“It’s gone,” he said.
24
Through the high side window behind the driver’s door, Ethan could see the dying edge of the midday sun. It was a welcoming warmth as they pulled out of the station over an hour before, but now in the rear cabin, it felt as though the group of seven were being baked from the inside out.
Over the last twenty minutes, Ethan and the others sat in silence. They braced themselves and held tight to one another as the armored vehicle rocked under the weight of the growing horde. And as the sounds of the dead beyond their metal box escalated, the hopeful siren playing in the distance was all but drowned out.
Since parking alongside the apartment building and deciding to wait it out, the crowd that had broken off and turned their focus to the armored truck had easily doubled. They’d begun pulling more followers away from the larger group at the old Taylor farm and appeared to have combined their efforts. If this trend was to continue, they’d eventually draw every Feeder in town into the narrow alley. It was only a matter of time. The group could continue to wait out the horde, but for how long? At some point, they had to make a move.
Ethan was ready now.
As the horde continued to attack the exterior, he tapped Griffin on the shoulder and pointed to the driver’s seat. Leaning in, he turned up the volume in his voice. “Give me the keys—we’re getting out of here.”
Griffin shook his head. “There’s no way—too many of them.”
“And there’s more coming,” Ethan said. “They’re being drawn away from the farm—not your fault—no way we could have known that they’d find this metal box more interesting.”
Griffin grinned and handed Ethan the keys. “I don’t think it’s the truck they’re attracted to. More like what’s inside.”
Cora moved away from the door, slid up to Ethan, and peered out over the dash. “What are we doing?”
Reaching for the headrest on the driver’s seat, Ethan pulled himself up. “We’re getting out of here.”
“But—”
“Grab a gun from the duffel and get ready. Tell the others to hold on to something.” Sliding into the driver’s seat, Ethan slammed the key into the ignition as the crowd outside took notice. They began clawing at the driver’s door and over one another. The horde crammed in, pushing the first row of Feeders flush against the exterior windows.
Bloodied mouths with lacerated lips bit at the exposed metal, splintering off more of their fragile teeth with each new attempt, their rage doubling at the sight of Ethan sitting only inches away. Those up front, standing on the side step, pulled at the roofline, ripping away large swatches of skin from their fingers and hands in the process. Ethan tried not to look—to remain focused.
Turning over the engine, Ethan pushed the pedal to the floor and as the motor screamed to life, he shouted into the rear cabin. “Hold on.”
His vision party obscured by the thick trails of blood now running from the top of the windshield, he slammed the armored vehicle into reverse and clutched the wheel with both hands. “Here we go.”
Out of his periphery, Ben moved quickly from the rear and slid down into the passenger seat. A pistol in his left hand, the kid braced himself against the dash with his right. Staring straight ahead as the massive vehicle lurched backward, he said, “We really doing this?”
Ethan didn’t answer. He peered through the driver’s side window into the mirror, and although mostly blocked, he caught a glimpse of his target. It was only a flash of blue—the sun reflecting off the angular metal—but he saw its placement along the packed alleyway.
“They’re everywhere,” Ben said. “How’s this gonna work?” The kid also checked his mirror through the opposite window and then leaned forward, his face less than two inches away from the beast on the opposite side of the glass. “What the hell is with these things? They weren’t like this two days ago. It’s like their pissed off. I mean, before they were the worst possible thing you could ever imagine, but now they also seem mad. Like really—”
The truck increased its speed as Ethan peered out through the side window. Driving backward with only his mirror as a guide, he cut the kid short without turning to face him. “They’re hungry.”
“What?”
“They’re running out of new victims,” Ethan said as the truck pitched up, plowing over two downed bodies. “They’re hungry and have nothing to eat. We’re it. Just us, that’s why we have to leave and that’s why it has to be right now.”
Ben started to speak, but was again cut short as Ethan reached over and pushed him back into his seat. Continuing to gain speed, but unable to shake the riotous crowd, the Feeder outside Ethan’s window had gotten wedged between the door and the mirror. Looking past Ben, he again scoped his target and cut the wheel to the left. Under his breath he said, “One shot at this.”
As the truck continued in reverse, Ethan motioned to Ben. “Seatbelt, now.” Without turning and still focused out the passenger window, he shouted into the rear cabin. “You’re all gonna need to get down on the floor. Stay there, we’re gonna hit hard.”
Ben reached for his lap belt and quickly buckled himself in. He looked from Ethan’s determined gaze out through his window and searched the surroundings for what Ethan had planned. “What are you doing and wh
y are you doing it in reverse?”
“Just hold on.”
Nodding, Ben pushed his feet into the floorboard, slipped the weapon under his left leg, and held tight to the door with both hands. Looking back through the windshield, he could see that they’d begun to drop many of their unwanted passengers—a few more every second. Although as they tumbled to the ground, the tormented beasts again found their way to their feet and then followed the armored vehicle further into the alley. They had no intention of giving up.
As the others sat on the floor, up against the walls, Ethan drove the truck backward in a straight line. With his target now in full view, he again shouted. “Five seconds!”
He counted down the rest under his breath.
“Four… Three… Two…”
Reaching around the mirror and looking for a handhold on the hood of the armored vehicle, the Feeder at his door struck the angled edge of the apartment building and was torn in half. Its upper body disappeared as they sped backward and its lower half slid down the side of the truck, dropping somewhere near the front tire.
“One.”
Glancing through the rear cabin and out the window, he could easily make out the words Summer Mill Waste Management as they slammed into the dumpster.
An explosion of metal on metal rocked the weighty truck. It lifted off its front wheels and crashed back down as more than a dozen Feeders were tossed out onto the stained asphalt. Ethan gripped the wheel and slammed back in his seat, as the others slid into a pile of arms and legs at the rear of the truck.
Slowly blinking through the confusion, she attempted to rub away the ringing in her ears. Cora sat forward and pushed away from the others. She got to her knees and then from a crouched position up onto her feet. As the silent world beyond the rear cabin came into focus, she reached out for Griffin.
He wasn’t moving, a small trail of blood ran from his left ear and his eyes were closed. She turned to the others as they also attempted to pull themselves together. Back to the front, she tried to shout, but it came out only slightly louder than her normal voice. “Ethan, there’s something wrong. Griffin needs help.”
25
He could see down to the end of the long city street, past where he’d entered the parking garage, but only along the sidewalk. The street was filled with walking corpses; however, the sidewalk was clear. Not nearly enough space for them to attempt to get back to the car, but enough that he could see the right taillight of the vehicle he’d parked only minutes before. But right now, he needed to forget that. Right now, he needed to pull himself together and run, even if he couldn’t.
The two crowds had converged and were now moving through the intersection. It was time to go. Tom looked up at the woman and she seemed to understand. She leaned over and held her hand out. The knot running the length of his right leg had flattened, although he was still unable to bend it. Reaching for her hand, he bit into his lower lip and stood.
Letting out a deep groan, Tom moved up onto the sidewalk and tested his right leg. Twenty percent of his weight was doable, anything more than that would force him back to the pavement and into the fetal position—probably for good. Step with the left, limp with the right. Maintain a speed just fast enough to stay ahead of the growing horde and hopefully live to see tomorrow. That was his plan. It wasn’t good, but it was all he had.
Moving in close to the brick building to their left, the woman, still holding onto his hand, turned to him. Something about her was different, subtle, but still different. Maybe it was her eyes, maybe her expression, maybe the fact that her face appeared to have color for the first time since she’d exited the SUV. He couldn’t tell and given his current pain level, maybe it was nothing at all.
“Hey,” she said.
Yes, something was different. Even though it was only one word, he could tell there was more. He could have answered her right away, but he figured he’d let her continue instead.
She looked back. “They’re going to catch us if you don’t move faster. Can you move faster?”
Tom fought the urge to ask her all the questions that had backed up in his mind since he first glimpsed her from the street. He instead attempted to put her mind at ease. “I think I can move a bit quicker, but I’m gonna need you to help.”
“Okay.”
“Also,” Tom said, “We gotta find somewhere to hide, at least for a few—”
“I know a place. It’s not far, but we need to get there as fast as we can. It’s going to take a minute to get inside.”
As quickly as she turned it on, she again went quiet. Slowing, the woman pulled Tom’s arm up over her shoulder. By his estimation, he had a good six or seven inches on her. She pulled him into her and again started forward. The first twenty strides were an uncoordinated mess. He stepped over her multiple times, nearly taking them both to the ground. He didn’t stop. He didn’t turn, and he although he could hear their aggravated footfalls growing closer, he ignored them.
Finding their rhythm, she held him tight with her right hand and pointed straight ahead with her left. “Up ahead. Next block. Go left.”
Tom didn’t answer. He just kept moving. The pain along his right leg was now more of a dull ache. He figured the cramp had mostly subsided, although now may not be the best time to test his assumption. They weren’t gaining any ground on their pursuers, however they also hadn’t opened a big enough lead to take any chances. He’d save the heroics for another time.
Approaching the corner, the woman began to slow. She moved left and Tom hobbled along at her side. They weren’t nearly far enough ahead to make this work; however, they wouldn’t make it another hundred feet at their current pace. They needed to increase their speed.
Swinging wide, they stayed along the edge of the sidewalk and both breathed a sigh of relief as the intersecting street proved to be clear. She nodded toward the building fifty yards ahead. “Just past the second light post. There is a door, but I have it blocked. It’s going to take a minute to clear it and get in.”
Finally deciding to look back, Tom’s suspicions were confirmed. They didn’t have a minute. They probably didn’t even have thirty seconds. “I don’t think this is gonna work, we have to figure out something else.”
Her words came out slower now, and halted. She was winded, although not completely from running. Bearing a portion of his weight was beginning to take its toll. “You’re going to have to help me,” she said. Taking in a deep breath she continued. “There is nowhere… nowhere else to go.”
Twenty yards to the door and Tom was out of gas. His lungs were now breathing fire and the task of having to overcompensate for his injured right leg was beginning to wreak havoc on his left.
He could feel the pressure building in his ankle and the arch along his left foot begged for mercy. He knew he couldn’t add any more weight to the tiny woman under his right shoulder and the thought of again testing his wrecked hamstring sent a streak of ice-cold tension up through the base of his spine. Something had to give.
Clenching his teeth and hoping for just an ounce of luck, Tom tried straightening his right leg and adding more of his weight to the next stride. Instant pain, but not what he’d expected and not much more than he was already suffering. It was a six out of ten. He could do this, but not for much longer.
Passing the second light pole, the woman slowed to a stop and slid out from under Tom’s arm. Guiding him to the wall, she looked back. “I may need your help with the last one.”
He watched as she moved into the recessed doorway and then checked the crowds at their back. The horde had moved up onto the sidewalk and also filled the street from one side to the other. They moved much more quickly than he remembered and looked to be fighting one another for the chance to be the first to get to him and his new friend.
Turning back to the darkened doorway, the woman appeared once again. She shuffled backward and was dragging a lifeless corpse by the wrist. She pulled the faceless body out onto the sidewalk and let it roll
into the street.
“What are you doing?”
She ran past him and shouted, “I’m going to need help with the third one.”
Looking back yet again, Tom shook his head, turned, and followed her into the darkness. He reached her not more than ten feet in. She was hunched over another limp body, attempting to pull it free from the one below.
Without looking back, he knew the horde was close. Their sluggish footfalls and throaty groans preceded their massive numbers. And as the daylight being fed into the recessed alcove slowly began to die, Tom moved to her side. He leaned into the wall, used his left leg for leverage, and helped pull the second body away from the pile.
Reaching for the third and final body, Tom glanced back. A pair of Feeders had entered the alcove and now fought their way over the downed body.
Turning away, Tom centered his weight over both legs, ignoring the excruciating pain firing through his right hamstring. He placed his hand on the woman’s lower back and pushed her forward. “Open the door,” he told her.
As she reached for the handle, Tom bent at the waist and yelped as a lightning rod of agony moved up through his sciatic nerve and slammed into his pelvic bone. Tears began forming in the corners of his eyes and he could actually feel his body shutting down. It was finally giving in to the exhaustion.
He looped his fingers through the belt of the last body and used what little strength he had left to quickly slide it aside. Looking up as the woman pushed into the building, his vision began to rapidly narrow. And as the feeling in his lower body started to fade, he fell forward through the doorway and instinctively reached out for her.
Rolling him onto his back, the mystery woman who’d only spoken a handful of words dragged him over the threshold and moved away. With the world around him beginning to recede, Tom watched the petite brunette attempting to close the door ahead of the grotesquely disfigured crowd.
