Zombie Country (Zombie Apocalypse #2)

by Hoffman, Samantha

  Aaron puts a hand on my shoulder. “Let it go. We need to keep quiet and keep our heads in this. Now, let’s head over to that store and see if there’s anything still left. We have a baby about to be born any day, and it’ll need something to wear. Start with baby clothes, but grab anything else you can find.” The other two soldiers dart across the street in a well-practiced way that hints at their official training, and they motion for us to follow them when they deem the coast to be clear.

  Aaron puts his hand at my back and pushes me forward, taking the rear. I twist and turn as I walk, trying to look in all directions to make sure we’re alone on this empty, destroyed street. Everywhere I look I see the results of the end of the world: abandoned cars rest along every street, windows have been broken out of stores, blood covers every bench, wall, and stretch of street, and bodies litter the ground, though most of them are in pieces or are so bloated they’re beyond recognition.

  Aaron firmly grips my arm and steers me away from the carnage in the streets, pushing me in front of him. I get the feeling he’s trying to protect me from any more horrid sights, kind of like a brother might do for a younger sister. Knowing there’s a possibility that Aaron cares for me in that kind of a way is a refreshing change from the normal things I’ve seen lately. These days, people look out for themselves and nobody else, even their own family. I’ve seen people who abandoned their spouses or parents or even their children just so they could get away.

  It just goes to show you how spineless some people can be, and that family ties and loyalty only matter until you’re in danger of being eaten alive. Then it’s everybody for themselves…

  The two other soldiers in our group stop and immediately press their backs up against the front of a store, crouching down low in the process. Aaron and I do the same, trying to make ourselves as small as possible against this wall. Sensing the potentially dangerous situation we’re in, I bring my gun out in front of me, using both hands to steady it. Seconds pass by in total silence and we all hold our breath as if our lives depend on it.

  Slowly, the sounds of shuffling feet reach my ears, along with the quiet moan of the dead. As the sounds draw closer, my heart starts to race, and my hands begin to tremble. The intense urge to turn and flee builds up and the muscles in my leg tense as I prepare to run in the opposite direction. The only thing that stops me from running away is Aaron’s hand as it clamps down on my shoulder, silently reassuring me that everything will be okay once more.

  The first zombie walks into view and the sight of her causes me to flinch. The left half of her face is missing, and judging by the jagged tearing, it appears as if the skin has been chewed away. The whiteness of her cheekbone that peeks out from beneath torn flesh catches my attention, and I can feel the bile rising in the back of my throat, harsh and acidic. I bite down on my lip, close my eyes, and count to ten until the urge to puke begins to subside.

  When I open my eyes, the woman missing half of her face has already shuffled past our hiding place, but others are starting to come out of the alley after her. I count four more zombies, all missing various appendages or features, and I feel a moment of pity for them. Just by looking at them I know they suffered before their deaths since not one of them is a whole person, but I wonder if any part of who they were is still locked away inside their minds. I wonder if they’re aware of what they’ve become, of who they’ve hurt, or even of their own suffering.

  As I ponder their depressing fates, the group of five continues past us until they disappear around a nearby corner. The second they’re gone, the soldiers in front of me cautiously get up and scan the street in both directions, checking to make sure the coast is clear. They signal back to us, and Aaron and I get to our feet and follow after them. When I reach the opening to the alley, I turn and look into the dark space between buildings, just to make sure there are no more zombies. Being thorough and careful is what’s kept me alive this long, and I don’t plan on being lazy just because I’m with a group of trained soldiers.

  The first thing I notice in the alley is what looks like a recently dead man. Or at least what’s left of a dead man. The majority of his skin and muscle has been stripped away from the bone, and I wonder if there’s enough left to reanimate after having been fed on by that small pack of zombies. I have seen many zombies that are missing entire limbs or chunks from their bodies, but I’ve never seen one reanimate after being so completely ripped apart.

  Movement stirs at the back of the alley, catching my attention in an instant. Four of his fingers have been eaten away, but the one that still remains begins to twitch against the bloody ground. Aaron appears at my side, and his eyes lock onto what’s left of the man’s corpse just as his arm lifts from the ground as if to wave at us. Aaron stiffens at the sight of the zombie and silently draws a knife from a sheath on his belt.

  One of the soldier’s narrows his eyes at Aaron’s back. “Aaron!” he hisses angrily. “We don’t have time for this. It’s not even a threat to us; leave it!”

  Aaron ignores the calls of his men and keeps walking towards the man on the ground. I don’t know why, but I follow him into the dark alleyway without hesitation. When I reach Aaron, he’s kneeling on the ground beside what’s left of the man’s face, and I wince. There isn’t much there other than bone and a few scraps of hair, but Aaron clearly sees something human still in him.

  I worry that Aaron might be kneeling too close to the zombie for comfort, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Even when the zombie turns his head slightly, opening and closing his mouth–trying in vain to move what’s left of his body so he can get a bite–Aaron doesn’t move. He knows that what is left of this poor creature is of no threat to him, and this may be the closest we can safely get to study one of them. Even though I know this creature is dangerous, curiosity draws me closer. I crouch down beside Aaron to get my first up-close look at these monsters. Every other time I’ve been close enough to take a glance, I’ve been running for my life or hiding in an attempt to stay alive.

  The first thing I notice about this creature is his right eye. The left one is gone, but it has to be the same startling shade of blue as his remaining one. That one remaining blue eye fixes on me, and it looks so normal—so human—I can’t bring myself to look away. Without breaking eye contact, he lunges at me and what’s left of his hand grasps my ankle. The scream builds up in my throat, but before I can let it out, Aaron pounces with the knife, driving it deep into the head of the zombie.

  His grip on my ankle loosens, and I yank myself away, sliding along the pavement as far back as I can. Aaron rips the knife from the zombie’s skull, and he looks over at me, his clear blue eyes wide with worry. After a second, my eyes slip away from his, and I find myself staring at the gaping wound in the zombie’s head. Thick, congealed blood oozes slowly down the side of his head, matting his light hair to what is left of his face. “Madison, are you alright?”

  “You just saved my life…again.”

  “I shouldn’t have let you get this close to it. If I’d known it was still capable of lunging, I would have told you to stay back.” His eyes meet mine, and I sense a tremendous amount of guilt. “I’m supposed to be in charge, and I almost just lost one of my soldiers. If something had happened to you…”

  “Aaron, I’ve seen them kill people before. I’ve seen them rip people to shreds as they cried and screamed and begged and pleaded to a God that may or may not exist. People I knew. People I loved. I’m not a baby. I’ve survived this long, and I can handle what this world has to offer. I’m not gonna break just because one of them touched my jeans.”

  He nods his head in agreement. “I know.” He gets to his feet with a sigh and gives me a hand up. “Let’s get going. We’ve already wasted enough time taking care of this.”

  Without another backward glance at the zombie Aaron just killed, I follow him out of the alley. Both of the soldiers are waiting for us on the street, and they do not look happy to still be out in the open. I can’t read their mi
nds, but when Aaron takes his place at the front of the group, I feel like I sense a bit of doubt coming from them.

  They do not want Aaron as their leader. He only hangs onto his position as leader as long as the majority of people want him to lead. If he screws up and someone gets hurt or killed…they’ll find someone to replace him in a heartbeat. The thought of having to live under someone else’s rule is not a pleasant one, since many of the soldiers look out for themselves first and us last.

  “Let’s get moving,” Aaron says, giving his weapons a quick check. “We need to make sure we get back to the school before dark, when more of them will be out and about.” Aaron turns and walks down the street, keeping a look out for any signs of the undead, and we all follow him down the street to a nearby store.

  Chapter Three

  The front door of the store has been barricaded with an empty shelf turned on its side, but the window has been broken out, probably by vandals some time ago. Aaron is the first to climb up and over the shattered glass, and he bends down to help lift me into the store. A shard of glass jutting out of the window frame snags my shirt sleeve and it tears, but thankfully it doesn’t break the skin. The thump of my boots echoes in the empty store as I drop down from the window sill, landing in a crouch.

  The other two soldiers climb into the store after me, and they quickly draw their guns and spread out, trying to make this place as secure as possible. Aaron nudges me in one direction, and I quickly grab two red handheld baskets from a stack near the window, before following him down a nearby aisle. Like many stores in such a large city, there isn’t much left in any one place. A lot of the remaining merchandise is scattered around the floor or turned on its side on its shelf, having been overlooked during the first couple weeks of the zombie apocalypse.

  Aaron holds up a can of horseradish sauce and grimaces before setting it back down on the shelf. We don’t have room to carry back any condiments that we don’t have much use for. Things like horseradish, relish, or honey mustard sauce aren’t a necessity and can’t keep someone nourished and alive. Aaron climbs up the shelf to look at the top row, and he comes back down with three dented cans of baked beans that somebody missed. He drops them into my basket with a smile.

  “There’s still plenty of food left here; we just have to keep looking.” Aaron turns and heads down the aisle, keeping on the lookout for more food, as well as for whatever hidden dangers may be lurking around the nearest corner. My handgun is tucked safely away in the front of my jeans—with the safety on—where I can reach it in a hurry if necessary. I’m not sure how well I’ll be able to shoot since I haven’t gotten any real practice, but just knowing the gun is there for my own protection makes me feel better.

  Aaron gets ahead of me, and I quicken my pace so I don’t fall behind. We take another turn and we find ourselves in a more untouched aisle of the store. There are various cans scattered around the floor between the two shelves, and we immediately begin sorting through them. “I can’t believe there’s so much still here,” Aaron says breathlessly. “We’ve never been this lucky before!”

  “How did nobody take this stuff before now?”

  Aaron shrugs as he dumps a handful of fruit cocktail into one of the red baskets. “Maybe the place got overrun before it could happen. Maybe someone that worked here barricaded the door and didn’t let anyone in and planned to survive in here alone. I don’t know, and to be honest, I don’t really care. This food is gonna go a long way, I bet.”

  He’s trying to stay positive, but it does no good. He and I both know that despite the presence of about forty cans of food, it won’t go as far as he hopes. There are simply too many people waiting for us back at the school. This food—even rationed—won’t give everyone a full meal. If this is all we find today, we’re still going to be in trouble, and we’ll have to go back to the school as failures.

  Once we make sure every can in sight has been added to the baskets, Aaron and I move on to another section of the store. As we pass down another aisle, I notice one of the soldiers in our group. He’s perched on top of a shelf, and he’s scanning the area around us, looking to make sure nothing surprises us while we scavenge for supplies. He looks very disciplined and serious as he sits there with a gun cradled in his lap. His well-trained eyes take in every inch of the store as if he were a hawk searching for its prey.

  Aaron finds a couple cans of Vienna sausages and tosses them into the basket, along with two boxes of chocolate graham crackers, but there isn’t much more left in the store that will be of use to us or the people counting on us back at the school. There are a few jars of salsa and nacho cheese sauce still on the shelf and Aarons squeezes them into the basket with a shrug. “What the hell. Why not?”

  “There isn’t much more room,” I say, lifting the heavy baskets. “Forty plus cans weigh more than one would think.”

  Aaron sighs and runs a hand nervously through his shaggy hair. “This cannot be all that’s left in the store. It just can’t!” he shouts, kicking a small jar of crushed red pepper flakes. The jar flies down the aisle before shattering against the nearby wall. The sound of glass breaking echoes throughout the silent store and causes a black rat to scurry from its hiding place under an old newspaper.

  “Everything will be okay, Aaron,” I say, surprised by his angry outburst. “I don’t think we’re gonna find anything else here. Someone else probably already came through and took what they needed, or what they could carry. Let’s add these to the backpacks and look someplace else. Then we can regroup and head back to the school.”

  “But—”

  “Aaron, don’t you think everyone will be happy to see what we got? Sure it isn’t much,” I admit quietly, “but it’s more than we had before we left. We have canned fruit and soup. We have something other than powdered eggs, baked beans, and saltine crackers. That’s something to celebrate. Just think about how happy this is going to make everyone.”

  He looks over at me and gives me a rueful smile. “You seem oddly optimistic today. What’s gotten into you?”

  I shrug. “I’m not sure. Maybe it’s the thought of eating something besides baked beans that’s got me all excited, or maybe I’m just starting to realize that we may be able to survive if we stick together. Or it might just be you.”

  “Me?” he asks, taking one of the full red baskets from my hand. “What did I do to make you happy?”

  “You’re trying,” I say, crouching down on the ground beside him. My ratty backpack slides down my shoulders, and I unzip it. “You’re one of the few people with the training to possibly ride out this disease, and instead of hiding away in the mountains somewhere with plenty of food and ammo, you’re still here in the city, trying your hardest to take care of others. You’re inspiring.”

  He shoves a few of the cans into his matching backpack. “I’m glad somebody thinks I’m inspiring. I sure as hell don’t. To be honest, I’m not sure I’ll ever understand why people look up to me. I’m only twenty-four years old, and I’ve only been in the army for a little more than three years. There are people back at the school who are more qualified than me.”

  “But they don’t care about others like you do,” I say, zipping my backpack. “Aaron, you’re doing what’s best for everyone, and you have this whole ‘no man left behind’ attitude that the others don’t. The other soldiers put themselves first, and us survivors don’t like that. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that most of the women at the school wanna have sex with you.”

  He chuckles quietly as he slings his backpack over his shoulders. “Yeah, that female vote definitely came in handy.” He pats me on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go find our lookouts and get out of here. I hope the others found more than we did.”

  “We found more than I thought we would,” I say, following Aaron back to the front of the store. Our two soldiers are waiting for us by the busted out window, and they don’t look back at us as we approach. Aaron and I are immediately on guard, and I grip my gun in my hands, ready to p
ull it free from the front of my pants. “What’s going on?” I ask quietly.

  One of the soldiers shushes me, and I lean closer to the window as a low, sorrowful moan reaches my ears from somewhere down the road. It’s a horrifying sound that sends shivers down my spine and causes bumps to break out down my arms. It’s one of the worst things I’ve ever heard, and just by looking at the rest of my group, I can tell it’s affecting the others as badly as it is me.

  “The street is full of zombies,” Aaron says, peering out the window. “At least thirty of them, and they’re all heading in the same direction. They’re going after something I think,” he says, pulling away from the window.

  “Michael and the others?” I ask quietly.

  Aaron curses. “It has to be. There’s nothing else on these streets worth going after.”

  “What are we doing?” one of the soldiers asks. “If we leave them, they’re dead. If we go after them, we’ll have to fight through a herd of zombies. Think we can do it with just the four of us?”

  Aaron chews his lip as precious seconds pass by in total silence. He’s in a rough position right now, and the wrong call can get people killed. He has to examine his choices and consider what he’s willing to risk. He makes up his mind as a shot pops off, echoing down the empty street. “Let’s go!”

  The two soldiers whose names I still don’t know hop through the window first, and Aaron helps me up and out safely. “Madison, you don’t have to—”

  “I’m going,” I say, sliding the gun out of the waistband of my jeans. “What are we waiting for?”

  More shots are firing off every second, giving us a clear direction to go. However, the noise each shot makes is alerting every zombie in the city to our group’s exact location, and many more zombies will be here shortly—ready to feast on our brains. We have to get our other group and get as far away from here as soon as possible.