by Lee Dunter
Dropping to his knees, Ryan pulled the machete from his own bag and swung it at Kyle. In an instant, Kyle’s hand was severed and twitching lifeless on the ground. Ryan could see the bones sitting smoothly against the newly created nub of Kyle’s arm. He fought the urge to vomit. Kyle’s ensuing scream jolted the rest of the circle and they rushed Ryan, pulling him off.
Albert held him around the chest. “That’s enough. Calm down. Don’t be cruel.”
Ryan was confused. What was Albert implying? Then the truth hit him. They mistook Ryan’s attempt at saving Kyle’s life for torture, vengeance for the pastor’s stinging comments.
Joe was again standing with his machete. He approached Kyle.
“No!” Ryan screamed. “Stop!”
Joe backed away from Kyle with suspicion in his eyes. Kyle rolled on the ground, clutching the nub of his arm, which was spurting blood all over the grass.
“Albert.” Ryan turned forcefully back to Albert, and Albert jumped back, alarmed. “Could this save him? The bite was small, and we got the shirt tied around the wound soon as it happened. And now we cut his fucking hand off.” Ryan’s voice was incredulous, hysterical.” Is it possible that the virus hasn’t spread?”
Albert regained his composure and pondered the question. “It’s not likely,” he began, “But, yes, I suppose it’s possible.” He paused, shaking his head. “With his heart rate so high, the likelihood–”
“I didn’t ask about the likelihood,” Ryan interrupted. “I asked if it was possible.”
“Yes, It’s possible,” he said with sympathy.
“No, please,” Kyle said. “Just kill me. It hurts so bad, just kill me.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Ryan shouted. “We’re not going to kill you.” Ryan caught the twins exchanging nervous glances. Ryan pointed his finger at them. “You’re not going to kill him. No one else has to die today.”
Albert crouched to observe Kyle, who was now fading in and out of consciousness. Watching this, Ryan couldn’t believe he was responsible for inflicting this pain. He was the cause for the dark pools of blood collecting in the grass and the large severed hand, a twitching island amidst the sea of red. Finally Kyle passed out.
After a while, Albert said, “There’s not much we can do with what we have. We need to stop the bleeding. Let’s get him in the house and see what we can find.”
As they went towards the house, the glass doors slid open. A large black man in athletic shorts and a white tank top walked out and crossed his arms, puffing his already huge chest out further. Behind him, standing on her tiptoes to cautiously see over his shoulder, his wife held a swaddled baby to her chest. The baby was silent. Great, Ryan thought, just what we need right now. The grouped stopped, startled, and the two parties stared at each other. Ryan again thought of the old western movies, John Wayne walking through a silent town and staring down the man he was about to kill.
“What in the hell are you doing in our yard?” the black man yelled, his as booming as Ryan expected.
“Nothing,” Roe said, putting his hands reassuringly in front of him. “Nothing at all. We’ll see ourselves out.”
“Oh hell no,” his wife said. The man stepped to the side to let her have her say. She stepped into the grass. “You think you’re just gonna walk up in here, screaming and making a bunch of noise and then leave like nothing happened?” She took a step towards the group, and her husband grabbed her shoulder, beckoning her back. “Never mind you leaving bloodstains all over the place. You know that’s just gonna ‘tract them even more of them things! The only way to survive this shit is to stay quiet. When our neighbors went bat-shit crazy, runnin’ around all over the place, we stayed in here. We turned the lights off. We waited. And now you mother fuckers come in here, ruin it all, and you think you’re just gonna leave us here to die?”
Although he was terrified of her, Ryan saw her point: now that they exposed the family, they couldn’t just leave them behind. It was also crucial that they get into the house, or Kyle might bleed to death. It seemed taking them in would benefit both sides.
“Fine,” Joe said, walking forward. The others followed. “You’re coming with us. But I’m taking the damn baby. You’re gonna slow us down enough as it is.” Now face-to-face, the wife backed away from Joe. “Come on, give it,” he said.
After the man reassured his wife, she gave Joe the baby. “It’s not an it. She’s a she . . . please be careful.”
Tears flooded her eyes as she stepped into her husband’s arms. Over his wife’s head, he studied Joe. Joe secured the baby in his left arm, making sure he could still access his handgun with his other hand. Roe and Ryan picked Kyle up and followed the couple into their home, Kyle’s toes dragging on the ground.
Albert’s face lit up once they were inside the house. “I need you to do me a favor.”
The woman hesitated. “Um, okay.”
“Go into the kitchen and heat a pan on the stove. Then get me any sheets you have and start ripping them up.”
She furrowed her brow, her eyes dancing from Albert to Kyle’s arm. “Lord have mercy.”
Ryan agreed. This was going to be nasty. But if it could possibly save Kyle’s life, it was worth a try. Fortunately, Kyle was still unconscious. Ryan allowed Albert to assist Roe in carrying Kyle into the kitchen, and then he waited with the others by the door.
The black man left to change his clothes, and when he returned, Ryan gathered that the black man was Tavaris and his wife was Kayla. Roe then immediately began filling Tavaris in on the plan. He seemed not to listen, uninterested. But he did act as if he were glad to be part of a large party with a decent stockpile of weapons.
As they waited, Ryan heard what sounded like sizzling bacon, but the horrid smell and piercing shriek that followed told him otherwise. A few minutes later, they returned from the kitchen with Roe and Albert supporting Kyle. White sheets were tied with duck tape around the nub of Kyle’s arm, and his bloody shirt had been replaced with one of Tavaris’s. It was too wide and too short. Kyle muttered he was fine and finished his way towards the group on his own.
Ryan marveled at the diverse nature of this group of survivors, none of whom would have met if not for the zombie outbreak. He appreciated this vain blessing, but it could not bring a smile. Kyle sat on the couch, and they waited five minutes for him to gain strength and for the painkillers to begin working. When ready, Kyle staggered to his feet, a skyscraper wobbling in strong gusts, and managed to make it to the front door. Tavaris hugged Kayla, kissed his child’s forehead, and opened the door. Once outside, the heat ran over Ryan, and he began to miss the coolness of the house. Roe led them northwest towards the interstate. Joe stayed in the rear to keep a close eye on Kyle for signs of zombification. The group was now too large–and the baby too noisy–for the group to be surreptitious, so as they approached the interstate and the frequency of zombie attacks increased, the quiet of the machetes were replaced with the power of the guns.
Just as Ryan felt the need for a break, they reached Peachtree and were forced to halt. The street and sidewalks were filled with zombies, even more so than at the gun store. Now the protection of the building was gone, and there was no time to formulate an escape plan. A horrid smell reached Ryan. He wrinkled his nose and dry-heaved as he forced himself to see what was ahead. Lost limbs and blood were everywhere. Intestines and organs spilled from zombies as they mindlessly wandered. Blood stains splattered the sides of buildings, streaking all the way to the ground, where people had failed to escape their pursuers. Cars became denser leading up to the interstate ramp, some of them wrecked and overturned, limbs hanging out closed doors and opened windows. Windows of upper floors in the surrounding buildings were broken where people had opted for cleaner deaths.
Ryan’s heart sunk, and he began to seriously contemplate suicide. Hell, they might as well just turn to each other right now and end it on their own terms. This would ensure a swift, pain free death, and it would guarantee none of them would
walk the street as a lifeless monster. Ryan wondered if he were the only one harboring such thoughts. Was he the only one who realized that they weren’t going to survive? Apparently so. The others began reloading their firearms and preparing for battle. Kyle struggled to place his second clip into his handgun with just one hand. Albert nervously fumbled bullets into his clip, then threw the gun to the side, readying his rifle instead. Roe armed Tavaris with his own handgun, and then Tavaris picked up Albert’s handgun to duel-wield the pistols. Roe swept his carbine from his shoulder with a smile that Ryan found to be creepy. But at the same time, it gave him hope. Ryan pulled his Marlin from his shoulder. I guess it’s worth a try.
Chapter 9
From Ryan’s crouched position, the Midtown city buildings in the distance seemed to shoot towards the sky, and Ryan imagined that the buildings themselves were racing to flee from the horror they were about to enter. He lowered his gaze and slid around the group’s cover to look down the street, earning himself some concerned comments from behind. He ignored the comments and looked down this street he had seen a thousand times before, this street now made unrecognizable with human carnage and the streets running red with blood, the zombies feet and hands splashing in it as they scavenged for scraps of left over humans. The sun reflected off the building towards his right, and Ryan again observed the shattered glass, large windows broken open with office chairs and computer monitors. His imagination did not have to stretch far to conjure what horrors those who jumped must have faced in order to choose suicide. It stretched anyways.
But then Tavaris broke him from his thoughts. “We should form a circle,” Tavaris suggested with a voice that Ryan found far too calm. “So we can protect ourselves from all angles.”
Ryan joined the others. The twins agreed with Tavaris, adding that Kayla should hold the baby in the middle of the circle for optimal protection. With the plan set, Ryan began to feel hopeful again, though he couldn’t fully dismiss his suicide solution. Roe took the spot in the front of the circle so that he could clear a path with his semi-automatic weapon. Ryan was encouraged when Roe suggested that he take the place directly on his right. Maybe I’m not such a horrible shot after all, Ryan thought. But then he remembered that his biggest problem was actually having the courage to fire the weapon. Everyone circled, Joe taking the opposite spot of his twin. Joe instructed that they should always remain moving, never stopping. If the circle broke, so did they.
Then, with no great gesture, no riveting half-time speech, no stacking of the hands or upbeat music, the circle stepped out from behind their cover and began moving as one down the street. Ryan’s heart was exploding in a rapturous beat, but instead of becoming paralyzed like before, he felt strong and powerful, like he could do anything. It was as if a guardian angel floated above him, serenading confidence to him through song.
As Roe and Ryan led the way, their footsteps alerted the surrounding zombies of their presence. The zombies’ change in pattern alerted others, producing a visible and audible domino effect down the street. The undead, screaming violently, sprinted at the group like a stampede of bulls, a seemingly endless horde of zombies filling the streets and sidewalks. Some were trapped in a nearby building, unable to open the doors and join in the pursuit, and they smashed themselves bloody against the glass to get at the fresh meat. Most, however, were trapped in between walls of decayed flesh, all pushing towards Ryan and the others. Ryan struggled to see a way through the undead masses. There was no empty space, only zombies, vehicles, and buildings. The interstate had to be less than half a mile away, but that is an impossible distance when the path is filled with the walking dead.
Roe fired.
Every time he pulled the trigger, a bullet surged forward and crashed one of the undead to its final grave, a feat that Ryan knew he could never achieve. Roe’s dexterity combined with the speed of the semi-automatic weapon soon layered the ground with the dead. Though covered in gore, a path began to clear down the middle of the zombie-infested street. From the left, Tavaris was firing, making up for his lack of accuracy with the second firearm, and ensuring no zombies filled the path from his side. But zombies were beginning to fill the path from Ryan’s side.
Gunshots roaring around him, Ryan thought, it’s now or never. He readied the rifle and squeezed the trigger. At the last moment, he jerked the barrel left, barely missing his target. The stray bullet hit the head of a distant zombie. He pushed the lever forward and fired another shot as the previous shell fell to the ground. His aim was true this time. A hole blasted through the center of the zombie’s head, and it fell backwards, knocking other zombies down. He fired, splattering blood, pushed the lever, fired, splattering blood, pushed the lever–the rhythm was becoming second nature. He felt like he was in the old west, hunting outlaws. All other senses faded to the kill instinct.
When Ryan tried to fire again, he heard the number seven in his head. Shit, he thought, discouraged that he was forced to stop once he found his rhythm. He reached into his pocket and shoved shell after shell into the gun, not daring to take his eyes off the scene ahead. Ryan tensed as he saw the zombies were getting closer. Roe and Tavaris were also reloading, and with no firepower in the front, there was nothing to stop their approach. Ryan kept his feet moving, just as planned. Roe forced his second clip into his gun, then began pushing the line of zombies back one by one.
The group was far into the zombie horde now, and the beasts surrounded them on all sides. Their only hope was to continue blasting a path and keeping it clear as they passed through. As Joe reloaded, zombies sprinted to the rear of the circle, forcing Joe to pull his handgun from his holster and pistol-whip a zombie in the head. Cam sent a zombie’s head rolling on the floor with his machete. The gunfire began again, and space was created between them and the undead horde.
There’s no end to them! Ryan thought. If only they had some basic thought or instinct, they wouldn’t push forward so fearlessly!
In this manner, them but a small island under the crashing waves of zombies, they reached the interstate ramp, everybody’s gun now empty. As they reloaded, Ryan saw that interstate road was littered with abandoned cars, which had no doubt once been full of panicky masses hell bent on escape. Now, the interstate was packed and lifeless, with only a few zombies roaming through the deserted landscape.
“We need to run for it,” Ryan said, so quickly he was surprised anyone understood. “There’s no way we can stay in a circle with all of the cars. Hopefully the cars will slow them down just as much.”
But they did. Without discussion, the group broke formation. Ryan led the way down the ramp, weaving in and out of the cars, making sure to avoid open doors. Each time he neared an open car, he imagined a zombie jumping out at him, grabbing hold of his arm and forcing its teeth into his flesh, so he held his gun ready. It never did happen, though. The only undead that warranted worry were chasing behind. The pursuing zombies knew no fatigue or pain–what Ryan was starting to consider one of their more annoying traits–but they also had no dexterity. The blockade of cars was tripping them up, navigating between too difficult for them. One slammed into an open car door, and at its speed, it must’ve broken its hip. Others ran into the backs of cars, slipping as they attempted to crawl over the top. The majority began to fall behind as they tried to squeeze in between the cars, like a mass of people trying to enter a store when it first opens on black Friday.
Once on the interstate, Roe jumped into the bed of a truck and dispatched the ones who had managed to break out, and with each shot Ryan felt freer from the pursuing horde. Roe jumped down when an appreciable safety net had been created, and they ran on. But with miles of the unknown ahead, Ryan didn’t allow himself to relax yet.
No one could have predicted how comparatively safe the interstate was going to be. A few miles past the ramp, they found a pickup truck and decided to rest and reload in its bed. Cam shared the snacks and drinks he had taken from the gun store. Albert inspected Kyle, redressing his wound wi
th extra sheets that they had brought along. Albert announced that Kyle showed no signs of the virus. Ryan smiled, pleased that he might have saved Kyle’s life, but knew they still had to be wary for signs of change.
Even though there were many dead bodies around them, the area was relatively clear of zombies. This puzzled Ryan, but it brought him enough relief that he didn’t ponder it long. The few zombies they had encountered were overpowered and dispatched easily and quietly. When they had been closer to the heart of Atlanta, Ryan thought he had seen people gathered around a fire on the roof of a building. But it wasn’t until they set out from the truck that Ryan received proof of the other humans’ existence. He heard their screams and gunshots echoing from beyond the interstate, where a battle was occurring, a battle that the humans were losing, by the sound of it. Ryan stopped to listen, one hand on the truck, as the screams died away and the gunshots lessened, until there was dead silence. Saddened, Ryan and the others continued on, avoiding open doors and vehicles they couldn’t see into.
As the buildings on the sides of the interstate faded to trees, the sun began to fade. They quickened their pace, and Ryan stared into the distance, searching for the exit ramp. But when the twins got off the interstate, it was not by an exit ramp; they climbed a hill to the right, staring down at the others, who returned with looks of disbelief.
Joe said, “The exit’s not far from here, but if we get off here, we should cut about half an hour out of our time.”
“Should . . . ” Ryan said uneasily.
“We went on a long walk once and found our way to the interstate through these woods. Now it’s just the same thing in reverse. Come on. We’ll be fine.”
