by Lee Pletzers
The man walked to the door, paused and said, “You’ll be out soon. We need to run some tests first.”
“I’m not infected.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” He stood in the doorway. “Clear.” The zombie roared and ran the full length of its chain, pulling against the restraints. “Come now, George, you’ll get more food soon.” The man didn’t turn to look at it. He waited a moment and satisfied all was well, he exited.
George? They named it? Or was that its human name before...all this started? The zombie was back squatting against the wall. It stared at the floor, unmoving. I thought about sitting against the wall but instead I started pacing. I hadn’t been this immobile for a long time and it felt unnatural to be doing nothing. Sally and I were always moving. Even when we stayed with Eric and his crew, there was always something to do. Planning, strategy, clean up and the most important, food sourcing. It was the hardest job of the lot.
Supermarkets and storage bins were mostly empty. We raided homes with intact doors and moved in small groups. No one was ever alone. We never knew who or what was behind those doors. Sometimes we found a new member or two who joined us but usually the streets and cupboards were bare.
Sometimes, but few and far between, we got lucky. A small town and a well-stocked market was pure gold. In the movies, everyone rips into the food but not Eric’s crew. All of us knew how important it was to the survival of the group. On days like this, we’d find a vehicle and load up. We never used vehicles these days—they attracted zombies—except for finds like these. Bottled water was the first loaded and most important for possible future use. There were no current concerns for water, it wasn’t a problem…yet. But for how long that would last, no one knew. In this new world of ours, it was best to play it safe.
Next, we loaded up as much processed food as possible and seeds for planting. Eric had some guys struggling to plough a rugby field and a few others were wiring up a solar electric fence. Not to keep the zombies out, as nothing stops them save a bullet, but it was to keep animals out. He had a whole plan, as if he had been planning this day for years. Anyway, remember what I said about vehicles?
Parking it in front of the supermarket was a bad idea. And I told them. But the others made a logical point. We could load more this way instead of lugging a few cartons around town looking for a truck, and the clincher—we hadn’t encountered the walking dead in almost a month.
I was loading a box of crackers when I noticed the first one. It was alone. If there’s one, there’s more. This dude was just the fastest. His shambling was slow as if he barely remembered how to walk. He was new. I pulled out the Glock 17 Eric had given me. For the first time I was grateful that Sally wasn’t in the group that day. She was safe at the camp doing other chores.
I lined up his head with the Glock and suddenly remembered Prime Rule Number One: There are always more. If I blew this fucker’s head off, they would hear and zero in on us. Ten, fifty, a hundred or more. I was not ready to die today. My leather gloves were back at the camp. I swore if I survived this, I would never go anywhere without them.
The others continued to rummage around in the supermarket, oblivious to this situation. I couldn’t call out to them and I had no weapon I could use silently. “Think, come on damn you, think.” Even shuffling, it advanced at a quick pace—faster than expected. I jumped off the truck, grabbed a can of beans and threw it at the supermarket window. Zombies don’t react to breaking glass. I threw the can like a clumsy pitcher. It hit the plate glass...and bounced off. The zombie was almost on me.
There was no time to think. My mind had switched into survival mode. Flight or fight. I was too angry with the world stealing Skyler for flight to be an option. The rage in my soul exploded. I grabbed another can and slammed it into the face of the rotting corpse, again and again and again. It dropped to the ground and thrashed about trying to get back up. I stood on its throat, watching its hands trying to get at me through my thick jeans. My lace-up boots went half way up my shin. I was protected. With my other foot, I stomped its face, felt bones break and I couldn’t stop myself—not that I wanted to, either.
Trisha came out of the supermarket, screamed and dropped her box.
A second later, her gun was out. “No!” I shouted jumping out of the way. She put three bullets into its head in the space of three seconds.
Fuck. No time to waste. They would have heard gunshots. “Stupid bitch,” I shouted running to the entrance. The others met me there. Without a word, we turned to the truck and clambered in. I jumped behind the wheel. On the back of the truck, we had two gunners with autos and two girls with semi-autos. The other two guys jumped into the cab with me. I didn’t know their names. Eric had amassed a large group of like-minded people, Sally and I included. I had only met two people on this shopping spree and they were both in the back, scanning the roads and side streets. “Here we go.” The moment I gunned the ignition they appeared, like ghosts waiting to be spotted. They appeared at the end of the street, shuffling towards us. At least a hundred, sniffing our blood, hunting our flesh.
No one was shooting yet. When we got closer to them, rock n roll time would blaze, with steel, smoke and fallen bodies. No one was going to waste bullets and possibly attract more. And we wanted none of them following us. That’s a big no-no; hence, I would be taking a roundabout route back to camp.
In the cab, the guy with crew-cut wound down the window and leaned out taking aim at the on-coming horde. Long Haired guy in the middle of the cab loaded two Glocks with fresh magazines. He was going to load while the other guy fired. Teamwork. Either they had done this before or it was an unspoken rule.
Long Haired was a fast loader. I handed him my Glock for a fresh magazine. “It’s already full,” he said and gave it back. I put it on the dashboard within easy reach. Then the shots rang out. Bodies dropped twenty feet ahead. Zombies stepped over them, filling the road. A roadblock of bodies. And I wasn’t about to stop as we powered into the group, guns ablaze. Blood, bones and bodies.
We hit with a thump as bullets flew. The horde seemed to swell in size and with most of them charging the side and rear of the truck; it didn’t leave much room for error. This wasn’t a 4X4 and bumping over the dead slowed us down. They jumped onto the hood, pounded the windscreen, sending web-like cracks shooting across the glass. I grabbed my Glock, waiting for them to break through.
Crew Cut was on the ball. He reached around the door and fired, hitting the thing in the knee. It lost balance and toppled off. Another quickly took its place. He took another shot, missed and the fucker shattered the glass.
Safety glass whitened my vision. I fired into the white creating a hole that caused the screen to collapse in on us along with the zombie. Long Haired screamed and started kicking at the head. The thing wasn’t moving. It was a lucky shot considering I couldn’t see it.
The commotion distracted Crew Cut. He turned, hand out for a fresh loaded weapon when his eyes suddenly went wide. He was yanked through the window. Long Haired grabbed his legs. I powered the gas. Bumped over a body and Crew Cut was free. Scratched but free.
“Give me a gun.” His voice was strangely calm. I’d be shitting bricks if it were me.
A massive rip throbbed on Crew Cut’s left cheek. His forehead bore scratches and cuts and his neck was covered in blood and he was demanding a gun, but it didn’t look like he had been bitten. Long Haired handed him a fully loaded Glock. He leaned out again and resumed returning the dead to Hell. The zombie I had shot earlier still dangled half in the cab and half on the hood. Long Haired grabbed it by the head and shoved it fully out of the cab. That done, he grabbed fresh rounds he’d placed on the floor. His hand was bleeding.
“You alright?” I asked.
“Yeah. Safety glass ain’t all that safe.”
We stopped. Or I should say, the truck stopped.
The wheels were spinning but not gripping the road. We were stuck on someone and the horde saw their chance. They clambered over
fallen comrades to get fresh meat.
In the back, someone screamed. Long Haired shot zombies off the hood. Crew Cut ejected spent magazines like candy wrappers. Gunfire filled the air behind us. Me? I kept the accelerator down and turned the wheel left to right trying to wriggle a grip from the burning flesh under us.
The horde was massive and seemed to keep growing. Where were they all coming from? The town appeared empty but that’s how they win. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: It’s a numbers game at times. Both were in their court. All we had was fear and a strong desire to survive. Oh—and weapons. Then I heard two words I never wanted to hear. Crew Cut said, “I’m out,” and tossed his Glock to the floor. He wound up his window. That wouldn’t protect him for long. “Get us the fuck out of here.”
“I’m fucking trying!” The passenger window smashed. Crew Cut yelled. Long Haired reached for him. I jumped in the seat, furiously turning the wheels left and right. Crew Cut was partly out the window. Shots from the back had stopped. There were only shouts and screams and suddenly we jolted forward. I kept my foot down. Crew Cut screamed as he was yanked out the window. Long Haired reached out for him.
No way in Hell was I gonna stop. He was a goner anyway. At the intersection ahead one lone zombie stood, surveying the action. As we approached, it stepped off the road and onto someone’s front porch. Turning its back on us, it walked around the side of the house and vanished from view. I turned right instead of left taking a long roundabout way back to camp. The truck had half a tank of gas so a two-hour trip was no problem. Long Haired moved to shotgun. I saw him wipe his face with a blood-splattered sleeve. “Thanks,” he muttered.
“Team effort,” I said. “Hey, do me a favor.”
“Sure. What?”
“Lean out the window and check if everyone’s okay.” He did as asked and reported everyone was fine. Twisting in his seat, I pulled to the side of the road and took a deep breath. My nerves were haywire, adrenaline raped my veins, and if I got out of the truck, I don’t think I could stand. However, I had the power to raise my Glock and point it at Long Haired.
“Why we stopped?” someone called from the back.
I ignored them.
Long Haired stared at me and raised his hands. “Dude?”
“You wiped your mouth.”
“So?”
“So, I’m waiting.”
“I’m not like them.”
“Not yet. We’ll see.” I held the Glock steady. Long Haired protested but I blocked him out. The others in the back watched through the small back window. Two got out and took up position at each side of the truck, weapons raised. One aimed at me and the other at Long Haired. They knew the seriousness of the situation as much as I did. If he changed, he died. We couldn’t abandon him for fear of him later finding camp. And bringing others.
Time seemed to move slowly. We had just been in a battle for our lives. We had saved each other. Now I was willing to blow his brains out and not give it a second thought. I suddenly wondered if I could be this heartless if Sally got infected and realized I could be, very easily. Hell, I’d been the one about to shot my daughter. I pushed the thought out of my head to focus on the present. Besides I knew I probably would put a hole in her head, or put one in myself first. Long Haired lowered his hands. I wasn’t comfortable with the gun pointed at me. I didn’t want to get blown away by a nervous trigger finger. Not a cool way to go.
It took a lot of courage for me to lower the Glock and exit the truck (with the car keys). “Lower that weapon, soldier.” His finger dropped from the guard. “Point it at Long Haired.” He gave me a quizzical look. “The guy in the truck.” He nodded.
“This could take awhile,” the guy next to me said. Having only one experience with my baby girl being transformed, I had no idea how long it took a grown man to die and come back hungry. “Might take a few hours.”
“Do you have a suggestion?”
“Chain him to the back of the truck.”
I saw no reason in that. “He’s just going to change.”
“We don’t know that. What if he’s not infected? You’d kill one of the few of us still around?” He looked at his friend across the hood. “Agreed?”
His friend nodded and went to the back of the truck. I’d seen a lock box in the back bolted to the cab. It was padlocked. From here, I couldn’t see but I heard the noise he made breaking the lock open. “Got three chains and locks, Jerry.”
“Bring one—” Jerry doubled over grabbing his stomach and dropping his weapon. The front door of the cab opened. “No you don’t, Sunshine.” Two guns in the back had a line on him. Long Haired smiled at me and got back into the cab.
Jerry hit the ground. I knelt next to him, arm across his shoulders. Jerry grabbed my arm and flipped me over his shoulders, then bit into my hand. His teeth punctured the skin. I think I screamed like a girl while trying to yank my hand free. He was grinding into the flesh. Warm fresh blood—my fucking blood—splattered on the ground. The pain was like nothing I’d ever felt before and I couldn’t get my hand free. A shot rang out. Jerry fell to the side, my hand still in his jaws.
Using my free hand, I struggled to open his mouth. My hand throbbed. Blood flowed freely. I couldn’t believe it. A moment of compassion had killed me. I rolled Jerry over. He still looked like he always had apart from the red eyes and feral snarl. I couldn’t see any marks on him and no bites or deep scratches were evident. I checked his hands, face and neck. The rest of his body was covered in Army gear, including boots.
I felt the cold steel barrel press against my neck. In the truck, Long Haired started laughing. I sighed. This was the end of the road. “Get in the back of the truck.”
I did as I was told. No words of protest or pleas came forth. Knowing the score, I think I was in shock.
Unbelievable. The odds were always stacked against us but finding Eric’s group and his future plans seemed to lower the odds and provide a new life. Not one we were used to, but one with safety, security and purpose. Not a life driven by a fat or slender bank account. Those days were long gone and for me they were not missed. My sustainable life was now gone, all I had to look forward to was a bullet in the head.
The two girls looked at the bite on my hand. It did look bad. Trisha kept her gun pointed at my head. “This is all because of you,” I said looking at Long Haired through the small window at the back.
“Luke,” the guy smiled at me, “get Long Haired out of the cab.”
“Copy that, Terry.”
“Shelly,” Terry said to the girl next to Trisha, “get the padlocks.” She did as told, rummaging around in the broken box. Terry wrapped one chain around me three times. “Pity.”
“Why?”
“Eric liked you, you had leadership qualities.” He took a padlock from Shelly. “I would have followed you.”
I wasn’t sure how to react to that.
“Sitting or standing? Two hour drive ahead of us.”
“Sitting.”
Terry and Trisha helped me into a sitting position. It was uncomfortable on the chains but better than a long as stand. Luke got Long Haired onto the back. The guy was still smiling. “Karma’s a bitch, ain’t she?” His eyes were locked on mine.
“Oh my God, he’s changing,” I screamed. Trisha swung her gun around, almost pulled the trigger but Terry put his hand on the weapon. She looked confused for a moment, and then slowly turned to face me. “What the fuck?”
I shrugged with a smile. “Almost worked.” Long Haired had lost his smile. I rubbed the bite on my hand. It fucking hurt more than before. Is this the pain my little girl felt? It was terrible imagining her going through this. Thankfully, she changed quickly and felt nothing afterwards. I hope. Guess I’ll know soon enough.
Long Haired was chained and dropped to the floor unceremoniously. He wriggled over to sit next to me. “Hi buddy.”
“Shut up.”
“Now, is that any way to treat your new best friend?”
The girls got off the truck and climbed into the cab. Terry got behind the wheel, leaving Luke to watch us. He didn’t point the auto at us. Instead, he laid it across his lap as he sat against the side and casually watched the scenery pass by. He didn’t seem concerned about anything. I guess he was taking things day by day and getting in some good target practice. He and Terry were the two best shots in camp. They often took people into small empty towns for practice. A couple of times those towns weren’t empty, but they always returned safe and sound. I guess crack-shots have the confidence to sit back, relax and watch the scenery.
“We could take him,” Long Haired said. “Just gotta wriggle out of these chains.”
Luke didn’t acknowledge the comment. His eyes were on the scenery. I also didn’t reply. My concentration was on the bite on my hand. It seemed to have gotten worse in the past few minutes. I was also starting to sweat, but I felt cold. A shiver started in my shoulders and ran down my whole body. The previously warm sun no longer radiated heat for me. Is this what it felt like to die?
I must have passed out ‘cause the next thing I knew I was back at the camp, chained to a tree with a blanket wrapped over my shoulders. Sally was sitting in front on me, my Glock in her hands. Her sobs were quiet in the evening light. I could see my hand was bandaged and the pain from earlier had ceased. “Sally?”
She looked up. Her face was expressionless. She wiped tears off her cheeks.
I was shivering, but it felt like I was on fire.
“You have a fever,” Sally said.
I nodded. “Got bit,” I said. “I fucked up, big time.” I looked her in the eye. My emotions were a jumbled mess. I was angry, disappointed at myself, sad, empty and more. There were an entire range of feelings wanting to break the surface. But the one that did break through was: traitorous. I felt like I was a traitor to Sally for getting bit and soon leaving her alone to fight for survival.
“Yep.”
“Sorry babe.”
