by Nick Clausen
The system seems to work.
Whenever he’s too close to the car he can see, he pulls little to the right. When he’s too far away, he pulls to the left. Slowly, steadily, he makes his way down the highway, plowing gently through the zombies as he goes, passing one car at a time. After ten minutes or so, he begins to feel confident enough in his system that he ups the speed a few miles per hour, still making sure to keep the course.
The slight upping in the speed means that he’s finally moving faster than the dead people outside, and he’s able to actually make progress as he slowly puts them behind him one at a time. New ones keep appearing, though, and the end is still nowhere in sight.
“Come on,” he mutters to himself, clutching the wheel and focusing hard with his tired eyes. “They can’t keep going forever …”
But it seems that way.
Another ten minutes pass, then another ten.
William must have driven at least three miles down the road now, passing several hundred cars. And yet the forest of zombies in front of him seems no smaller than when he began driving.
Then—suddenly—he catches a glimpse of a clear view ahead, before it’s once again swallowed up by zombies. But it was there! The horde begins thinning out. William breathes and utilizes all his will power to force himself not to speed up. He’s very close now, and making a mistake would be detrimental.
Another glimpse of the road ahead.
Another two minutes.
Another few dozen zombies plowed aside.
And then he’s out.
William lets out a cry of relief as the last zombies are pushed out of his way and the headlights can finally show him the open road.
He hits the gas and gets the car into second gear, then third. He leans over and shoves out the guy still hanging in the window.
“We made it, buddy!” he laughs, looking in the mirror to see the massive group of zombies getting smaller. “We’re out! You hear me? We’re fucking out!”
EIGHT
Only a few minutes have passed when Iver hears Leif call to them.
He glances at Agnete, who’s sitting by Adam’s crib, singing in a low voice to keep the toddler from waking up. Then he goes to the door and listens.
“Hello? Iver? Agnete? Can you guys hear me?”
“We can,” Iver calls back. “How are you holding up, Leif?”
“Not too hot, I’ll be honest. But I got to thinking, maybe I can help you guys.”
“How?”
“I could go downstairs and fetch you some supplies. Food, maybe—if those cowards didn’t steal it all.”
Iver frowns. “That would be suicide, Leif. Don’t open the door.”
“Oh, it’s okay. They won’t hurt me. They aren’t even scratching at my door any longer.”
Iver shakes his head. “That makes no sense. Why would they—”
“Because I’m already infected,” Leif says. “Don’t you know? I’ve seen it happen more than once. As soon as you get yourself bitten, they’re not interested in you anymore.”
Iver hesitates.
“I think it’s true,” Agnete says, and he turns to look at her. “They said it on the radio.”
“Huh,” Iver says, turning back to the door. “Okay, well … if you’re sure, Leif?”
“I am. And I wouldn’t mind doing something to help you guys—you know, as one last good deed.”
Iver can’t help but feel moved. “You already helped me, Leif.”
“Yeah, I know, but without anything to eat in there, you won’t make it for long anyway.”
“That’s true. But how would we get the food? We can’t open the door?”
“I thought of that,” Leif says. “I’ll bring something from downstairs, something to bash them out of the way. We only need a couple seconds, I’m sure I can make that happen.”
“Okay, well … fine. You just call for me, and I’ll be ready by the door, okay?”
“Okay. I’m going now.”
Iver glances back at Agnete again.
“He’s very brave,” she whispers.
Iver nods, then listens by the door. Over the moans and groans and scratching from the zombies, he can hear Leif grunt. “Get out of the way, will ya? Move! Good lord, there are so many of them!”
Iver hears Leif push his way through the zombies, and the sounds get weaker as he reaches the stairs and makes his way down them. He can imagine the big guy plowing through the mass of zombies.
Then he can’t hear him any longer.
Iver waits for five minutes. Then five minutes more. He begins to worry when another five minutes have passed by.
“You think he’ll make it?” Agnete asks.
“I’m starting to doubt it,” Iver admits, yawning.
Then, suddenly, Leif’s voice: “Iver? You there?”
“I’m here! You made it!”
“I did, but …” Leif sounds very weak. “It was difficult … I … I feel exhausted … I’m burning up out here … there are too many of them, Iver … they’ve flooded the house completely … every goddamn inch of it … I’ll never be able to get them away from the door long enough for us to get the bag through …”
“Oh,” Iver says, biting his lip, trying to think of another way. “Give me just a second, Leif …” He looks around the room for something they can use. His eyes fall on the air duct high up on the wall. He looks at Agnete. “What’s on the other side? Is it the bathroom?”
Agnete nods.
Iver turns back to the door. “Leif? Listen, is the door to the bathroom closed?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Can you get the bag into the bathroom? There’s an air duct you can push it through.”
“Hold on …” A few seconds of pushing and grunting from the other side. Then Leif shouts: “Goddamnit, you get away!” A door slams.
“Leif? What happened?”
Leif’s voice comes again: “I messed up, Iver … I got the door open, but I dropped the bag … I had to close the door before they could squeeze in there …”
“That’s okay, Leif,” Iver says, looking at the duct. “I think I can get through to the bathroom from here—I’ll get the bag.”
“You will?” Leif says, sounding relieved. “Well, that’s great …”
“Thank you, Leif. Thank you so much!”
“Don’t mention it,” Leif says, sounding dreamy now. “I think I’ll … I think I’ll go back to my room now … lie down for a while …”
“Sure, you do that,” Iver says.
Then there’s a heavy thump from the hallway.
“Leif? You okay?”
No answer.
Iver looks over at Agnete. She’s looking back at him knowingly. They both heard it. Leif collapsing. The big guy used his last strength to get them something to eat. Now Iver just needs to get to it.
He goes to the air duct and looks up at it.
“I don’t think it’s big enough,” Agnete says.
“We just need to make it a little bigger.”
There’s a sound from the door as one of the dead people throws himself at it. The hinges rattle in a way Iver doesn’t care for one bit. The door is very thin, something you could kick down without too much difficulty.
It’s already starting to give way; it won’t hold forever.
“I think we need to get to the bathroom,” Iver says. “All three of us. The door in there is sturdier. Plus, there’s water in there. We’ll be able to make it for days.”
Agnete just nods.
Iver pulls over the night table, steps onto it and looks through the air duct. The wall—as he hoped—isn’t too thick. Removing the lattice, he’ll only need to make the hole about twice as big. It should be doable, even without any tools.
He glances over at the door as another one of the undeads thrashes against it.
The only question is, will he make it in time?
NINE
Dan runs for the well cover, ignoring the mild jolts of pain f
rom the foot not wearing a shoe as the gravel digs into the sole.
He’s running parallel to the front of the house, and out of the corner of his eye he can sense how the group of undeads are coming towards him like a wave.
He ignores it as best he can, reaching the well cover and crouching down. He fumbles for the handle, which is hidden below a plate that slides sideways. And only then does it strike him that he’s relying blindly on the fact that Dennis has unlocked the cover from inside. If not, then Dan will be in big trouble.
But the cover gives way as soon as he pulls the handle, tilting upwards, and Dan’s heart is filled with relief.
Then Liv calls out: “Dan! Watch out!”
Dan darts a look back at the van to see her head poking out the window, one arm flailing wildly. Dan looks back at the zombies, but the nearest one is still several yards away.
“No, over there!” Liv shouts, obviously making an effort to keep her voice down.
Dan follows her pointing finger and gasps as he sees three figures coming around the garage. They’re much closer to him; too close for him to make it down the ladder before they reach him. Dan gets back up to his feet and backs away from the open well.
This is bad, he thinks, as the zombies close in on him from two angles now. If I lose this chance, it’ll only get more difficult …
So, instead of heading for the van, Dan runs around the trio from the garage, drawing them away from the well while closing in on it himself.
It’s working!
But the horde from the house is now very close, and the move he just made has completely closed him in, with no way to escape and only ten paces between him and the deads.
He wastes no time, throws himself at the opening, gliding across the gravel, ignoring the pain from it, and climbs down the ladder. He reaches back up for the cover, fumbling to lift it.
The zombies are over him, the closest ones dropping to their knees and reaching for him as he pulls the cover frantically, closing it halfway. He almost makes it, but then an arm shoots down the opening, groping for him.
Dan gives off a yelp and almost loses his grip on the ladder. He moves down another couple of steps, holding on to the cover awkwardly, trying desperately to pull it shut, but the zombie with its arm pinned isn’t intent on letting him do it.
I can’t close it, Dan thinks, straining to keep the cover in place while ducking out of reach of the arm. The choir of moans is coming down through the opening, and more hands are being squeezed through now. He can hear the zombies fighting for the best position up there, some of them stepping on the cover, making it move. I need to let go and make a run for it …
He looks down. There are only three more rungs on the ladder, and he can make the jump. But as soon as he does, it means letting go of the cover, and the zombies will shove it aside in a matter of seconds and come spilling down after him.
He has no choice, though.
On the count of three …
Just as he begins counting, grinding his teeth and holding the cover in place for another second, he can hear the sound of an engine. His first thought is that Liv has started up the van and is bolting on him.
But then the sound grows louder, approaching from overhead, and Dan looks up.
Through the opening he can see some of what’s happening. The hands reaching for him are suddenly torn back, as something big shoves the zombies out of the way. Dan lets go of the cover and ducks down as the sound of the engine grows deafening. The undercarriage of the van moves in over the opening like an eclipse.
Then the van stops and the engine is shut off.
Dan stares up at the underside of the van for another second. The sound of the zombies is still there, but a little farther away now. He can imagine them clambering around the van now parked right atop the well cover.
What a clever idea, a thought pops into his head. Why hadn’t I thought of that?
“You okay down there?”
Liv’s voice, muffled from inside the van.
“I’m fine,” Dan calls back in a hushed voice. “Thank you.”
Then he pulls the cover in place, hearing it click, and the darkness closes in on him completely.
TEN
He’s been driving for less than half an hour when he hears it.
The sound of a helicopter.
William looks up at the sky, which is already turning from black to dark blue, but he can’t see the helicopter at first.
He stops the car and leans forward to look properly. And then he makes out the light coming closer from the north. It’s a lot bigger than the medical helicopter. In fact, judging by the size of it, he’s pretty sure it must be military.
William pulls the hand brake and jumps out of the car. His knees almost buckle as he stands up for the first time since yesterday. He reaches in to honk the horn and begins waving at the helicopter.
“Hey! Down here! Look down here!”
He realizes there’s little chance the pilot will hear the car horn, so instead he begins blinking the headlights. In the dim twilight, it must at least be visible from up there.
And it seems to work.
The helicopter slows down, then hovers over the highway. Even though it’s very high up, the sound of the rotors is still deafening, and William covers his ears.
A bright searchlight is turned on, sweeps across the ground, then comes to a rest on top of William. Feeling suddenly very exposed, William realizes he has no idea who’s up there, and he must fight a strong urge to jump back inside the car.
But the helicopter is definitely the fastest way of getting out of here. So he forces himself to wave, while shielding his eyes from the light.
“How many of you are down there?” a voice calls out over a speaker. It’s a man’s voice, and it’s talking English.
“Just me!” William calls back up.
“Tell us by show of fingers!” the voice instructs him. William notices there’s no accent. It doesn’t sound like a Norwegian guy up there. In fact, if anything, the voice sounds like that of an American.
William holds up two fingers.
“Are any of you infected?”
William shakes his head firmly.
“Have any of you been in contact with infected people within the last six hours?”
William hesitates for a second, then nods. Whoever is up there could very well have seen the horde of zombies in the distance and put two and two together, so he decides not to lie.
A short pause. For a moment, William is certain it was the wrong answer and that the helicopter will fly away.
Then the voice comes again: “Are any of you spiking a fever?”
William shakes his head.
“If it’s true, if none of you guys have a fever, we can bring you along. Would you like that?”
“Where are you going?” William asks, throwing out his arms, hoping to communicate his question. Apparently, it goes through.
“We’re going to Tunisia. They’ve put up military bases down there.”
William can’t believe his luck. For a moment, he considers simply taking the offer and going with the helicopter to a safe military base in Africa. But he can’t abandon his promise to Dan. Still, if he wants any hope of reaching Dan in time, the helicopter is his best bet.
William shows them a thumbs-up.
“All right, I’m going to throw down a backpack to you now. We need to confirm that none of you have a fever. Inside the back is a digital thermometer; please place that under your tongue, close your mouth and wait.”
William nods, darting a glance around on the dim highway. It’s not easy making out the surroundings due to the bright spotlight from the helicopter, but Ozzy has come out of the car, too, and is patrolling around the car. William feels confident he’ll pick up the scent of any oncoming deads and warn him immediately.
The backpack falls out of the sky. William catches it. It’s a big, heavy-duty, beige-colored army backpack. On it reads US Airforce.
“They really are American,” William mutters as he unzips the back and finds the casing with the thermometer. He unpacks the metal disc and places it under his tongue as instructed.
Ten seconds pass by. William just stands there, looking around, feeling very awkward as the spotlight hovers over him.
Then the voice tells him: “You’re fine. Please pass on the thermometer to the other person in the car.”
William shakes his head and points to Ozzy.
“Please pass the thermometer to the person accompanying you,” the voice tells him again.
William shakes his head again and points to Ozzy, then shows two fingers.
A brief pause.
“Is it only you and the dog?”
William nods.
“We can only bring you.”
William shakes his head with emphasis.
Another pause.
Then the helicopter drops lower, and William begins feeling the rush of air from the rotors tucking at his hair, pulling the breath from his mouth. He covers his mouth and lowers his head.
“Please use the ladder,” the voice tells him.
William glances up to see a metal wire ladder dangling just ahead.
“Fine, but I’m bringing the dog!” he calls out, pointing to Ozzy.
The voice doesn’t answer, which William takes an OK.
William whistles for Ozzy to come. He kneels down and tells him: “We’re going piggyback—you remember that one? I know we haven’t done it in a while.”
Ozzy seems to get it.
William pats his shoulder. “Come on, buddy. Piggyback!”
Ozzy places both front paws on his shoulder, then steps on and leans over William’s back. The dog is a lot heavier than when William last did this trick. But he’s dead set on bringing Ozzy, so he stands up with an effort, the dog hanging over his shoulders like an oversized feather boa.
William needs one hand to hold Ozzy’s legs, and it’s difficult for him to straighten his back, but he manages to catch the ladder with his free hand and step up onto the lowest rung. The next one proves harder, though, as he can’t let go with his hand. He looks up at the helicopter, squinting his eyes at the blazing winds, the sound deafening. “Could use some help!”
