I went to the back door and listened carefully. I heard nothing but rain so I opened the door slightly, stepping back with pick raised to see if anything was out there. I pushed the door open further and waited again as rainwater began to pool inside the doorway. Nothing happened, so I spared a glance at the family and said, “It’s what I do,” and stepped out into the dark rain.
It was like stepping into a shower. I was instantly soaked with heavy drops. The hat kept the worst of it off my face and I was able to see through the rain a little bit better. I quickly checked the alley on both sides and was relieved when I saw it was empty. I moved as quietly as I could to the side of the building and looked slowly around.
I nearly jumped when the next flash of lightning revealed a zombie standing not five feet from me. His back was turned and he was slowly shuffling through the water that pooled around his bare feet. I could tell he was not alive, since there was a gaping hole in his right side, allowing me to see the rain hitting the ground on the other side. His long hair stuck closely to his skull and fat raindrops splattered on his dark skin. I looked around and saw another zombie several yards away and this one was facing slightly away from me as well.
I stepped quietly forward and silently pulled out a screwdriver. I waited for a flash of lightning and when the thunder came, I struck. Using an overhand grip, I punched the screwdriver through the top of the zombie’s head. He stiffened momentarily, then dropped to the ground with a small splash.
As the flowing water ebbed around its newest obstacle, I looked over at the other zombie. It hadn’t moved, so my tactics had been successful. I moved slowly, approaching it from the rear and I could see several pairs of glowing eyes in the gloom. They bobbed back and forth as their owners moved through the rain. The really creepy ones were the single glowing eyes. Get lost, Cyclops.
I moved slowly through the rain, having the crazy thought that the zombies couldn’t see or hear or smell me, they might actually think I was one before it was too late. Sidling up to the next Z, I waited again for another crash of thunder and then I rammed the screwdriver through this walking corpse’s skull, dropping it with a wet splash. I scanned the area and saw a pair of glowing eyes making for me in the dark. I didn’t hear the telltale moan, which meant it wasn’t sure what I was yet. I waited, looking around and assessing targets. The next flash of lightning allowed me to count the zombies nearby and the number was roughly ten. Under any other conditions, I would have avoided this at all costs, but since I had the advantage, I may as well use it.
The zombie sloshed closer, the glowing eyes fixed on me now, but still no sound. Its hands were still lowered, which was another sign it wasn’t sure what I was. I moved the screwdriver around to my left side, crossing my right arm in front of me. As the zombie got close enough, I could see it was a female, possibly a nurse, judging by the stained scrubs it wore. I had a brief pang as I thought of my dead wife then steeled myself and when the Z got closer, I whipped my arm up and around, planting the screwdriver into the zombie’s temple. The mouth opened briefly to protest, then the corpse fell permanently dead at my feet. I left the screwdriver in its head and pulled another.
I killed four more in a similar fashion, sliding through the rain, striking quickly and then disappearing before they knew what hit them. I left several zombies on the ground with screwdrivers stuck in their skulls and I was hefting two of my hammers when the worst thing happened.
The damn rain stopped.
I froze in place, while three zombies milled about in front of me. The wind was still blowing, but the drone of the rain had stopped and even I was able to make out other sounds besides the wind. I figured the darkness would help hide me, but they would be able to smell me out very quickly. In the blackness around me, I could see several more sets of glowing eyes and those were the ones that I could see. I knew there were several more out there whose eyes weren’t glowing, who were a bigger threat because of it.
I felt completely exposed, more so because my gun was empty and the only thing I had standing between me and undead oblivion was some hardware store hammers and my battle-tested pickaxe.
As I considered my options, one of the trio in front of me happened to turn to the side and catch sight of me. I stood still, waiting to see what she would do next. I balanced myself on the balls of my feet, ready to spring into action, my hands gripping the handles of my hammers tightly.
She cocked her head to the side, leaned slightly forward and bellowed out the loudest, most mournful cry of the dead I had ever heard. It sounded like a cross between a calf and a bullfrog. The effect on the other two was shock and awe and they pivoted quickly to stare at the cause of the commotion. They looked at the yelling zombie, then over to me, then back to the yeller. They seemed to be confused as to what to do.
I didn’t hesitate. I leapt forward and slammed the claw end of the hammer onto the top of the first zombie’s head, spinning her away as she fell to the ground. I bolted at the other two zombies, then looked at them helplessly as I tripped over a submerged obstacle and hydroplaned past both of them. They gave chase and the closest one fell to its knees as it tried to grab me in closer for a juicy bite.
I wasn’t about to be so accommodating. As it dropped down, I kicked it viciously in the face, knocking it back and giving me time to get to my feet. I had trained in ground fighting with Charlie and Tommy, but it was a losing proposition with two Z’s after your ass.
The second one was on me as I got up and I barely got a hand up into its chest to stop it before it could knock me down. The zombie felt the contact and its head snapped down to try and bite the hand on its chest, missing my fingers by inches, but exposing the top of its head to a hammer blow. As I killed it, I pushed it back onto its friend, who was just getting to its feet. They both went down in a heap and I unslung my pick in the interim. I moved through the still-swirling water and over to the still-kicking Z. I rearranged its neurons, ending its dead career.
I hefted my pickaxe and looked around quickly for additional targets. I saw none close and decided to push the living shit out of my luck and get moving to try and rendezvous with my friends. We had gotten separated when we rescued the family. Running back to the hardware store I burst through the back door and stepped back as an axe cleaved the air where I had been standing. I moved forward and shoved the man back onto his rear end, taking my hat off in the process.
“Nice try, but axes are too heavy for extended work,” I said, heading to the back room. The man scrambled to his feet and chased after me.
“Did you get them all?” he asked breathlessly, getting off the floor.
“Not even close,” I said, crushing his hopes. “But I may have opened a corridor for us to move through, but we have to go now. Get your stuff and let’s get moving.” I picked up my carbine from where I had stashed it and slung it over my shoulder.
The family was used to quick exits, bless them, and we were up and moving very quickly. I ushered them to the back door, after giving them specific instructions to wait for me and do exactly what I told them. The woman and her husband were both carrying a child, the woman holding the little girl. They stood at the door looking at each other while I replenished my screwdriver and hammer supply. Using the tools was okay, but it required me to get in closer than I liked. Couldn’t be helped this evening.
I went to the back door and was just close enough to hear the husband apologize to his wife. She touched his cheek and told him to hush. He had done more than most men alive, so he was a hero to her. I hated to interrupt their moment, but we needed to move.
“Stay by me, let me know if any are getting too close. I’m going to go out and clear the alleyway and then I’m heading left to the center of town. We’re going to move right down the center of the street. Stay away from cars and doorways and keep moving. No matter what happens, keep moving.”
“Do you know where we’re going?” the man asked.
“Down the block there is a bank we can hole up in if
needed, but I’m hoping we can make it to the ball fields at the end of town.”
“Why there?” the woman asked. “Won’t we be exposed?”
I smiled. “Exposed on your own is bad. Exposed with backup is something else. That was the rendezvous point if we got separated. So I am hoping my friends will be waiting for us there.”
“If they aren’t?”
“I’ll distract the zombies while you make a run for it.”
“Oh, God.”
I opened the door slightly and checked the alley. Water sloshed noisily around various piles of debris and dripped in a steady cadence from trees and rooftops. Gutters still spilled out onto the ground and the world had that fresh-washed smell. If it weren’t for the fact a lot of zombies were out there looking to give me an unaffectionate nibble, I might have thought it was pleasant.
I stepped quickly through the door and moved to the edge of the building and peered around. I could see three zombies standing in the street, their tattered clothing sticking to their decaying skin. They were roughly six feet apart and directly in the way. I stooped quickly and grabbed an empty pop can and filled it with water. I stepped back into the alley, cocked my arm back and let fly, aiming the can to fall behind the zombies.
The second I let go I was moving. I went around the corner and headed for the zombies just as the can clanked back to earth from its flight. The zombies had their backs to me and were headed towards the can when I attacked. The first one, a small female, fell from my pickaxe without ever getting a look at me. The sound of her falling wetly to the road caused the other two to turn in my direction. I wasn’t waiting for them to get set. As soon as I removed my weapon from the head of the first one I was advancing on the second. This one had to be an original, as it was nearly naked and black with decay. I swung hard at its head and was surprised at how little resistance there was as the metal sheared through the fragile skull. I faced the third and swung hard as he lunged for me, his outstretched hands ready to rend and tear. The pointed edge of the pick caught him near the back of the head by his torn off ear, while the heavy handle flattened the side of his skull. The full swing swept him off his feet and caused him to pinwheel into a heap on the ground.
I sluiced my weapon through the running water of a gutter and motioned the family to follow me. They sprinted towards me and spared no time to gawk at my handiwork.
We moved down the street, heads darting back and forth as sounds of pursuit in the darkness followed us. Cans fell over in alleyways and shadows moved where shadows should have stayed put. In the smashed-in windows of a small store, a shredded body was draped over a display table in the window, advertising a grim buffet for the ghouls inside. Another store had its windows boarded up, but a small severed hand wedged in the boards told the sad ending to that survivor’s tale.
We reached the end of the street and I checked the situation. Across the street was the small central park of the town, which had a stage and several benches. I didn’t see any zombies there, but the stage was useless as a defensive place. It was only three feet off the ground and, as stupid as they were, even zombies could climb that. To the right was another road, but that way was blocked by several zombies shuffling along in the dark. By the way they were acting, they knew something was going on somewhere, but weren’t sure where.
That was about to change. I signaled the family to follow and we headed right, moving in the direction of the town center. I figured we would hit fewer zombies that way since there were more businesses and not as many houses.
Behind us, the zombies with clearer vision saw us dart out and move away and they dutifully gave mournful chase. If I had to say anything about the dumb bastards, they were focused. I didn’t stop to count the numbers who were now chasing us, but I figured it would be more than I cared to handle at this time with empty guns. I was even out of ammo for my backup weapon, a Browning BDA in .380. I had given my PPK to Sarah when I found this one, as the BDA had the capacity for thirteen rounds as opposed to six. In all seriousness, it was a stupid choice for a backup gun, since it required additional ammo, but I liked the looks of it and it pointed well.
We moved up the street, keeping ahead of our undead pursuers when a fast zombie nearly caught me. We were moving past a small bar when the door flew open and a zombie child nearly flew at me. It was moving fast enough to overtake any walking adult and its vicious expression was fixated on one adult in particular: me. I quickly sidestepped and held out my pick to keep it away It flailed against the weapon and snarled and hissed its frustration at me. It was too fast to try and hit with a hammer or the pick, so I had to get it off its feet. I shoved back on the pick handle, knocking it over and into a small bush. It thrashed for a second and nearly bolted out of the greenery. Its dead eyes fell on the family behind me and the small terrified children being carried by their parents. Its little mouth drew back from its teeth and it rushed to the attack.
It only got one step in when my boot connected with its face, flipping it off its feet and dropping it on its back. I stepped in quickly and stood on its neck, while its little arms dug futilely at my leg. Drawing my knife, I bent down and shoved the blade through its eye and into its brain. A twist of the handle brought its struggles to an end.
The man stepped up to me. “What the hell was that? I thought they were supposed to be slow!”
I shook my head. “The little kids seem to be fast and some of them are very fast. God help us if we ever come across an infected school.” Remembering a school in Indiana, I wiped my blade off and sheathed it, moving forward again into the dark town. The pursuing zombies had come a lot closer and their moans were pitiful.
Down the street I looked around another intersection. Across the street was the police station and I could see the signs of a last stand attempted at the building. Cars were parked to create a barrier and there were several uniformed skeletons laying about, indicating some officers tried to protect what was inside the station. The smashed in doors mocked the fallen with their failure and even in the gloom I could see it was a slaughterhouse inside.
I checked two of the fallen officers and was surprised to find a full magazine on one of them. The caliber was 40 S&W, so I quickly stripped the ammo from the Glock magazine and replenished my SIG. There were only ten rounds, but it was a great comfort to have my old friend ready for battle once again.
“Hey,” the man called to me from the far car. I trotted over and saw what he was pointing at. This cruiser still had it’s shotgun in the center holder. I opened the door and looked around, then took the standard issue Remington pump shotgun out. I checked the magazine tube and was happy to see it was full. I handed it to the man, who had a bit of a time holding his son and the shotgun, but I knew he would find a way to manage it.
Thinking our luck had turned, I started down the left street but stopped suddenly. In front of me were about twenty zombies, glowing eyes and all. They were right were I needed to be. Dammit. I looked back to the family and said, “Alternate route. Come on.”
We turned around and went back towards the police station, arriving there just as the first group of zombies was approaching. They set up another undead chorus as we showed up, joined in harmony by the second group which was now giving chase. We veered left and ran down the street, passing what looked like a small museum. Why anyone thought a museum in a small town was a good idea was beyond me. After everyone locally had gone once, why would they come back? Looking at the broken windows and blood-splattered doorway, apparently someone had come back.
“Come on,” I urged to the family as we moved into a more residential part of town. I could see dirty white flags hanging limply from mailboxes, remnants from a time when people believed their government could save them. “It’s not much more,” I said.
“Can we rest?” The woman asked, panting. “My arms are killing me.”
“I’d love to,” I said. “But they might have other notions.” I pointed to the approaching crowd of undead. They groups had j
oined together and we were being trailed by nearly thirty zombies. I had a profound sense of déjà vu.
“Give her to me. I’ll carry her for a bit.” I offered, shifting my pickaxe out of the way.
“No, I’ll manage. We need you loose to fight if needed. Another little zombie might get you if you hands are full.”
“Fair enough.” I replied, re-shifting my weapon. “We have one block to go down this street and unless I miss my guess, one block to the south. Then we can pick up the main road again and get to the ball fields.” One blessing of small towns is they were generally laid out in a grid pattern. If you knew your directions, you could navigate fairly quickly.
We sloshed down the dark street, passing under the canopy of several large trees. The rain dripping off the leaves made it sound as if the rain had started again. On both sides of us houses were dark and foreboding. I could see in several of them glowing eyes that peered at us from the gloom. Sounds drifted out to the street of dead things crashing into furniture and walls in their attempt to reach us. Behind us, mindless in their pursuit, was a small army of dead things, eager for the fresh meat that seemed so tantalizingly close.
I wasn’t about to make it easy. As we rounded the corner, I jumped a small fence and ran up to a nice Victorian home. I grabbed the garden hose that was in the bushes and ducked as a decayed hand reached through the window to grab at me.
“Shit!” I said too loudly as a dead face plastered itself against the window and tried to gnaw through the glass. I considered shooting the thing, but realized it wasn’t a threat stuck inside like it was. I had other things to do.
I ran back to the family and smiled at their quizzical looks. I was actually used to that look, having seen it many times from my friends. I tied one end of the hose to the corner post of the fence and ran the rest across the street. At about knee level I pulled it taut and tied the other end around the post of another home’s fence. I threw a wave at the three zombies staring impotently from a bay window, then hustled the family back to moving. With luck, that little trick might slow down our pursuers enough to give us some more time.
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