Harvest of Ruin (Book 3): A Spring of Sorrow

by Mongelli, Arthur

  Early the following morning Mark was awoken by a firm hand on his shoulder. The grasp startled him, his eyes shot open and he spun to a crouch to face the man called Benny.

  “You and Amber have five minutes to get yourselves ready. We're leaving with or without you,” he said sternly.

  *

  Before Laura could react with more than a sudden surprised shriek, the driver's door ripped open and a bloody, frantic Jen shoved her inward. She slid off the driver’s seat on the floor of the pass-thru as Jen sat in the vacated seat. She reached across her body and emptied her pistol into the faces of the undead that followed her into the open doorway. She was screaming as she yanked the door, bouncing it off the head of one of the encroaching undead before she was finally able to pull it closed. Many of the undead in the area turned away from the disturbance behind in order to pursue Jen, splitting the horde.

  Jen's jaw was set in grim determination as she gripped the wheel and slammed her foot on the accelerator. The Yukon lurched to life and its engine roared and wheels spun. It moved sluggishly at first as it began pushing its way backwards through the gathering crowd. Ever so slowly, the vehicle picked up speed. The heavy SUV thudded over the top of bodies threatening to hurl the occupants into the numerous reaching and grasping hands thrust through the shattered windows as it crept back. Ten harrowing seconds later, the Yukon pushed its way through the dense crowd gathered around them. They gained momentum as they moved into the open area between crowds, they finally could see Will. He was leaning heavily against the side of the building, wielding a green medical oxygen tank as a weapon. They watched the hose and mask whip around wildly as he swung it, connecting with the face of a lunging undead.

  Jen shook the steering wheel clenched in her vice-like grip and bounced up and down on the seat, willing the Yukon to move faster. The staccato thuds of heads and limbs bouncing off the rear hatch and quarter-panels reached a climax as she plowed the vehicle into the crowd gathered around Will. The engine screamed as the SUV hopped the curb and slammed into the side of the building, barely ten feet from Will. Without a moment’s hesitation, Jen was out on the tarmac and running. Only the open door indicated to the others that she'd not disappeared entirely.

  Tim wheeled around on the middle row of seats, standing over Laura and clutching Luna close into his midsection. He lifted his pistol to the ready and started taking shots at any of the undead that moved close enough to present a danger. He was careful with his shots, making sure he wasn't shooting in the general direction of Jen and Will. After a moment, he could see that the crowd of undead seemed more interested in the fleeing form of Jen rather than the idling Yukon. The spectacle of the two outside took Tim's attention fully. Jen for her smaller stature, fought like a demon. She heaved undead about, throwing them back away from her or onto the ground as they neared, pistol-whipping them with her empty gun or just shouldering through to get to the man she loved.

  While everyone else was fixated on the back of Jen's head as she drifted through the gathered undead, only Laura had the presence of mind to reach across the seat and yank the door shut. She tore it from the hands of a pair of undead that had jockeyed into position and were about to come inside. Tim fired into their blank, hungry faces as she slid up onto the seat and threw it in drive. Tim settled back onto the mid-row seat as the Yukon started pushing its way back through the tide of undead that had followed after the vehicle. She spun the wheel hard to the left, aiming the vehicle so that its path would cut across in front of Will and hopefully buy him a moments reprieve. The roars of the fast undead approaching cut through the air, sounding clearly above the roar of the engine and moaning of hundreds of undead. A sense of dread and despair settled like a wet blanket on their hearts.

  The SUV plowed through the crowd as if it were in a cornfield. Heads and arms bounced noisily off the front hood and slapped helplessly against the side of the SUV as it drifted towards the thick knot of undead surrounding Will on three sides. Laura let off the gas as they neared to where Jen was fighting her way through the crowd. She was on the verge of being overwhelmed by the press of the undead that turned towards more immediate prey. The denseness of the crowd brought the heavy truck to a standstill a moment later with Will struggling fifteen feet from the passenger's side. The engine raced as it tried to push its way through, but the only movement was a gentle ocean-like rocking as the bodies pushed and shifted along and around it. Those undead that were close enough, reached hungrily inside at the occupants. The undead further edged their way around the new obstacle that stood between them and their prey out in the open.

  Will was standing in a crook created by two parked cars which created a small choke point, limiting the press of the undead. He swung the two foot long tank desperately as he leaned with most of his weight against the side of the building. He knocked the undead down as they leaned in, occasionally taking the opportunity to smash the tank down and crush their skulls. Jen could see by his slumping shoulders that his strength was flagging and his efforts were nearing an end.

  “Will!” Jen screamed as she got cut off in the final few feet from joining him. “Get to the truck!”

  “My knee. . .” Was all he had the breath to shout back as he whipped the tank around for another pass, connecting with the temple of an encroaching undead.

  “Tim!” Laura's panicked shriek split the low moans as he shoved Luna into her lap and pushed his way through the gathered undead to get out of the Yukon.

  Tim fired his pistol, clearing a path through the press of undead as he pushed his way to get to Will's side. After the initial few which were reaching inside the SUV, most of the undead had their backs to him, intent on Will. He did his best to push aside the agony in his back when he reached the man. He took Will's arm around his shoulders and turned back to the SUV. The blocking body of the Yukon had created a small break in the crowd. It wasn't much, but it was enough for the two to make it back if they were fast. Only a handful of undead pushed in from the sides to intercept them.

  Tim and Will mustered the last of their failing strength to push through those undead as they crossed the fifteen feet to get to the Yukon. Wincing from the agony of his effort to load Will into the back of the vehicle, Tim turned back in time to see Jen quickly getting surrounded. Her path to the vehicle was blocked by the bloated form of a massive undead woman. The horde of undead that had been bisected by the Yukon was now coming around the sides, spilling into the gap. Tim hesitated for a moment, gathering his strength, before rushing to Jen. He grabbed the obese woman by the back of her floral dress and yanked, hoping to topple her backwards and open a gap for Jen to escape. Instead, the sunbleached dress disintegrated as it tore off. The undead turned, its meaty cheeks shuddered in hunger and a low growl escaped from somewhere in its throat. It lunged at him with hands out. He sidestepped quickly, tripping on the leg of one of the fallen undead that the Yukon had plowed through.

  No sooner than he landed on his back, then the bloated naked form of the undead fell atop him. He managed to keep its head at bay with both hands as its mouth snapped towards his stomach. The thing heaved mightily to get at the soft flesh there. He knew that he had no hope of dislodging the massive form with the state of his back. He only hoped that one of the others could help. The struggle was awkward, between being on his back and the weight of the thing as it tore at his stomach. He thought that he might black out with the pain and effort to keep the thing at bay.

  He was startled from his struggle at the sight and sound of numerous sets of feet approaching. More undead faces appeared overhead as he looked up, blotting out the sky. He could hear Laura screaming incoherently as the crowd spilled around the sides of the truck pressed around him. Three of the undead that stood over him flew from his sight as the small form of Jen came into view, throwing her shoulder into them. She was at his side then, yanking on the shoulder of the obese thing, trying to roll it off of him. The sound of gunfire erupted from the Yukon and bodies started dropping nearby, t
heir heads disappearing, only to be replaced by others moving up to fill the spot.

  Tim's jaw dropped in panic as Laura appeared alongside Jen. The combined efforts of all three proved enough to dislodge the bloated naked thing. A furious fight ensued as they struggled their way through the mob to the Yukon. Open leering mouths leaned in from every angle, trying to sink their teeth into the fleeing trio. Each of them had to shake numerous grasping hands off as they pushed forwards. Will did his best to try and cover their movement, having access to the weapons inside the vehicle, but the frenzy of activity outside limited his ability to shoot safely. Everyone was screaming, either shouts of encouragement or shrieks of terror.

  A few terrifying and frenetic moments later and the group was reunited inside the Yukon. Laura slipped into the driver's seat and was desperately trying to get the SUV moving forwards, away from the rapidly advancing roars of the fast undead. Hands reached in grasping and clawing at her face and hair. A low, panicked growl issued from her mouth as she fended off the hands by whipping her head and left hand around. In the back, Will settled on the rear row of seats, lying heavily on his left side while Jen covered him in kisses and tore at his clothing to look for bite marks. Tim sat in the middle row clutching Luna and Sophie tightly on his lap with the moaning form of Christine, bathed in sweat, cradled between his legs. He did his best in the excruciating pain he was in to shelter them from the reaching hands.

  That was when the fast undead reached the Yukon. Three at first barreled through the crowd and ran full-tilt into the front of the Yukon. The impacts jarred the entire SUV. Before they could register what happened the three climbed atop the hood and crawled towards the windshield. They could see the shapes of many more following behind. In the violence and fury of their approach, the fast ones had shoved a great many of the slow undead out of the path of the SUV. The press of bodies lessened, allowing the Yukon to start moving. Its bulk lurched slowly at first as it ground its way over the top of the fallen and dead. The jolt of the vehicle coming back to the pavement shook one of the fast undead from the hood in the process.

  They were moving at last, though the fast undead barreled at speed into the front and side of the vehicle. Their heavy collisions jarred the nerves of those inside. The two remaining undead on the hood reached the shattered windshield and started hammering on the flimsy barrier with their fists, showering Laura with splinters and shards of broken glass. Laura was screaming, just a constant high pitched vocalization of terror as she slammed her foot on the pedal, willing the nearly three-ton vehicle to move faster.

  Sophie wriggled out of Tim's grip and off his lap as he struggled to reload the empty magazine of his pistol from the shells scattered across the seat next to him. He didn't even notice her movement, but for the additional room on his lap. He shifted Luna between his thighs, squeezing his legs together to immobilize her so he could use both of his hands to finish loading a few rounds. As he pressed the clip home, the sound of a pistol tore through the interior of the SUV. Four loud, echoing blasts fired from a revolver, the bullets perforated the translucent windshield, which was now a bloody, milky mess of stretched plastic and shattered glass. The force of the bullets hitting their mark, though none were a kill-shot, in conjunction with the rocking of the SUV was enough to dislodge the raging undead from the hood.

  Sophie stood in the pass-through, holding onto the passenger's seat armrest with one hand and holding a snub nosed .38 in the other. As Tim stared incredulously at the little girl, an arm covered in bloody wounds reached in through the bars of the window and grabbed Sophie by her flaxen hair, yanking her off her feet, pulling her towards the side window.

  *

  Mark rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up, looking around to get his bearings. The sun, though not yet visible, was lightening the sky on the horizon to the east. The early touches of light had not yet settled on the forest around them. Everything was cast in hues of black in the nearby trees, though he could see the shifting shadows of the others breaking camp nearby. He shook Amber vigorously to wake her. She sat up with a moan, still mostly asleep, and stared with dead eyes into the darkness ahead of her. Mark was still in the process of stretching out his aching limbs when Harold walked over to them.

  “We're leaving now,” he said bluntly, hoisting his pack on as he approached.

  Without another word to the two on the ground, the four companions from Donner started off, walking northeast. Mark and Amber were left scrambling to get moving. They had to jog in order to catch up with the group. They spent the rest of the day trailing behind the rest of the group, both of their feet were a mess of scrapes, cuts, and blisters. Mark took the opportunity to talk quietly with Amber about their rescuers.

  “What do you think about them?”

  Amber, still exhausted and bleary eyed, merely shrugged her shoulders. He barely caught the gesture in the gloom.

  “Come on, Am. We have to talk about this. Are we sure that we want to go with them? They definitely don't seem to be the nicest of people.”

  “They saved our asses from Grayson back there. You realize that right?” She stared hard at him.

  Mark froze mid-stride. She usually deferred to him or gave non-committal responses when she was asked hard questions. At the very least, when he knew she disagreed, she would beat-around-the-bush about things if she had something to say. He was shocked by her bluntness, he hadn't seen much of the fire in her. She stopped as well looking at him expectantly and slightly annoyed.

  “Mark, they are getting out of sight. Get your shit together and let’s go before we lose them.”

  They walked in silence for a few more minutes before Mark broached the subject again.

  “We don't know them, Am. You really think they're okay?”

  “No, Mark, I'm not sure they're fucking okay, not even in the slightest. What I do know is that if not for them I'd most likely be getting passed around the men in the barracks right now.” She looked down at the ground and for the first time Mark saw that she fully understood the stakes.

  He stood there and watched her speak her mind for what might have been the first time in her life, unfettered by social graces.

  “Look, I realize that both of our lives are on the line here, Mark. I know you care and fear for me, but you need to be aware that my fears include a great number of things happening that you, as a man, don't have to worry about outside of a prison setting. Rape, torture, and slavery aside, I have to worry about getting pregnant. Do you have any idea what would happen then? I'd have to try and find a way to abort or miscarry. I wouldn't have the slightest idea of how to do that. So what then? Do I raise a child in this fucking travesty of a world? These people, if nothing else, are traveling with a woman, one who they treat as an equal, and they aren't leering at me. So no, we don't know them. But what choice do we really have Mark? Go back to the base? Stay out here in the wild? Are you going to protect me, Mark? Can you protect me?”

  Amber, having made her argument, sped up to the point where continuing the conversation wasn't possible. Even if Mark had anything further to say, he wouldn't have been able to through his heaving gasping breaths. The sting of her last statement burned shamefully in his chest. Deep down he knew it was a rational question, but it emasculated him nonetheless. They caught up to the rest of the group, which was now three, nearly ten minutes later when they all stopped for a rest.

  “We are taking five and heading out,” Harold called as they stepped into the clearing. “Danny went to scout. We saw a few glints behind us, got us thinking that your friends might have pulled their shit together and are coming back around for us.”

  Mark's heart sank at the news and he collapsed onto a knee-high rock to digest it.

  “You a doctor or something? They really don't want you gone.”

  Mark, sinking deeply into despair could only muster enough to shake his head in response.

  “I think it's about control, more than anything else. Grayson would see our leaving as dese
rtion. He would worry that would send a signal to the others that may be thinking about taking off. That would weaken his position on the base, something that he would never allow,” Amber replied. “We have no skills of marked value, Grayson is just a terrible excuse for a human being.”

  Harold stared long and hard at Amber, well after she finished her statement. Finally, seeing or not seeing whatever he was looking for with that gaze, he shook his head and sighed.

  “That family that came into your camp the other day, they came from Donner. We were tracking them. Saw what your Grayson fella did. Big time evil, that one,” Harold responded quietly.

  Mark and Amber both sat quiet, nodding in response to his assessment.

  “Why were you tracking them, if I may ask?” Amber asked.

  Mark looked aghast by her boldness.

  “Fella by the name of Tar lives in Donner. Gruff, miserable sonnofa bitch, but he's my friend. He was the only one that had the drive to get us set up early, when all this zombie shit was just starting up. He saved our little community, and everyone in it. Don't get me wrong, we had our share of deaths, but he cut us off from the outside world, kept them out,” Harold gestured broadly. “The living and the dead.”