After wrestling with herself one final time, she got up and headed for it.
3
BONFIRE
The warmth from the fire kissed her skin as she snuck up the concrete embankment. She used the slope to keep herself hidden from the men above, who she estimated to be at least three in number based on the voices she could hear. Their voices were deep and they sounded like big, rough men. The closer she got, the more she was having second thoughts about what she was doing. She almost reached the top of the slope when her shoe, still caked with rain and mud, slipped on the concrete, creating a scraping sound.
"Six o'clock!" someone yelled from above.
There was rattling and shifting, and in the next moment, four men stood at the edge of the flat concrete before the slope, casting long shadows over Sarah as the firelight flickered around their silhouettes. They pointed huge machine guns at her, bigger than the ones that were normally used at Noah's Ark.
Sarah froze and stared up at them, scared to death. She thought about letting go of her grip on the embankment and letting herself roll down out of their reach, but either way she knew she was dead.
"Who are you?" one of them asked in a gruff voice. The four of them stood still and elected not to shoot her on sight, but she wasn't sure how many questions they would ask her before they did.
After the initial shock wore off she tried to answer, but the walls of her throat felt like they were glued together. "Uh..." she squeaked out, roughly clearing her throat. She had a small drink of water at the creek in the woods, but the parade of zombies had made her flee before she finished, and she was still thirsty, not to mention starving.
One of the men in the middle looked at another one and waved his head toward Sarah. The other man lowered his rifle and stepped down onto the embankment, scooping an arm under her armpit and hoisting her onto her feet. He dragged her up to the even grade and sat her down on the ground as the four of them returned to their spots on the hard concrete around the fire, setting down their guns.
She was surprised at the casual turn the encounter had taken, and she still waited with bated breath for what they were going to do with her.
"What's your name?" the first man who had spoken to her said. He had a big brown beard, and he was very muscular. In fact, they were all muscular, and they were young, maybe in their late twenties. He picked some food out from between his teeth and picked up a can of corn that he had been eating before they were disturbed.
Sarah cleared her throat again and managed to utter her name.
"Sarah, huh?" he said.
"Are you going to hurt me?" she asked suddenly.
The men looked at each other then laughed.
"Not unless you try to hurt us," the man said, still grinning. "What made you think that?"
She was quiet at first. She still felt very nervous around these men, but she wasn't sure if it was because of them specifically, or if she was just nervous to be around people in general. "I've had some bad run-ins with people before," she said. "Especially... ones that look sort of like you," she added timidly.
"Oh, she's probably talking about those assholes back near Durham!" one of the other men said.
"The bandits," she corrected.
"That what you call 'em?" the first man said.
"That's what most people around here do."
He made a silent nod of understanding and went back to his corn while the other men ate their cans of food.
Sarah noticed a canteen sitting next to him and he caught her looking.
"Want some?" he asked.
"Is it water?"
He nodded and handed it to her.
She took it from him, unscrewed the cap and gratefully drank from it. She wanted to drink the whole thing, but she kept her share to just a small portion, not wanting to upset him.
"Go on," he said. "Have the rest of it. Look like you could use it."
She eyed him for a moment, then when she was sure he meant it, she went back at it and greedily downed the entire canteen. When she finished she handed it back to him with an almost apologetic look, feeling guilty for what she did, despite his blessing.
He ignored her look and took it back from her, putting it down by his side.
"So what are your names?" Sarah asked.
She caught the first man just as he shoveled a spoonful of corn into his mouth, and he held up a finger telling her to wait, chewed a bit, then changed his mind and pointed over at the man next to him.
"I'm Roscoe," the man said. He was taller than the rest of them and looked skinnier by comparison, but he had the same amount of muscle as everyone else—not bodybuilder-big, but certainly someone who worked out a lot and kept very fit.
"Tanner," the next man over said. He was black and his head was shaved completely bald, which was only a slightly shorter haircut than the rest of the men had. They hadn't said who they were, but they were starting to give off a jarhead vibe.
"Paulson," the man sitting next to her, opposite the corn-man, said. He was the stockiest one, with a little bit of fat on him, but she could tell he had just as much muscle underneath. His neck was thick and short and his eyes were fierce blue sapphires shining in the bonfire.
Sarah looked back at the first man and saw a lump slide down his throat.
"And I'm Dunblane," he said.
"Those are pretty unusual names," she said.
"These are pretty unusual times," he countered. "Anyway, next thing I was gonna ask you when I finished chewing was if you wanted some food. It's not very nice for all of us to be chowing in your face."
"If you wouldn't mind," she said.
"If I wouldn't mind?" Dunblane said. "What's got you so shy? You need to assert yourself more if you're going to survive in this world." He grabbed a can of beef and gravy and hacked open the lid with the tip of a knife then set it on a metal stand over the fire.
"Sorry," she said, "I just..."
"Right, the men from before," he said. "So what did they do to you?" When he saw the look of shame come over her face, he added, "Never mind, forget I asked."
She stayed quiet, not really sure of which men they were both talking about. She told them the bandits, but now that they were opening up to her and seemed much friendlier than they appeared at first, they were starting to remind her much more of Noah and his posse. And if it was a choice between Noah and the bandits, she didn't know which was worse.
"Hey, I just thought of something," Roscoe said, perking up.
"What?" Paulson asked.
"You ever notice how they never call them 'zombies' in movies and shit?"
"What do you mean?"
"Like in old shows and movies," Roscoe explained, "they always called them 'walkers' or 'flesh-eaters' or something, but never 'zombies'. It's like they never heard of zombies before it happened or something."
"So?" Paulson asked.
"I don't know, I'm just saying it's kind of funny. Like, remember that Walking Dead show? They never once called them zombies and had no idea what they were when they first transformed. Us, man? We've been waiting for the zombie apocalypse all our lives."
"That show pissed me off, man," Tanner said.
"What, The Walking Dead?" Roscoe asked. "Why?"
"'Cause they had that dumbass cliffhanger where Negan killed a dude, but they didn't show who it was. I was waiting for that shit to come back all summer, then the power went out and real zombies showed up. Of all the fuckin' timing..."
They all laughed and went back to finishing up their meals. Sarah sat quietly eating hers after Dunblane had taken it from the fire and handed it to her wrapped in a towel with a fork.
"Well you can stay here for the night if you want," Dunblane said, picking corn out of his teeth. "We're moving on in the morning though, so don't expect to hang with us or nothing."
"Thanks," Sarah said before biting off a piece of beef. "So were you guys in the military?"
"Navy SEALs," Paulson said. "We were stationed in Coronado wh
en the attack happened eight and a half years ago."
"Where's that?" Sarah asked.
"California," Dunblane said.
"Were you guys near the coast?"
Dunblane nodded.
"Why didn't you get out on the water?" she asked.
"We were too busy protecting our country," Tanner said indignantly. "But... we lost. We got overrun and our unit scattered. The base was compromised and wiped out. We tried finding our brothers in the area for years, but eventually we gave up. They were either lost or killed."
"What caused all this?" she asked. "You must know."
Dunblane shook his head. "Some kind of virus. That's all we know. This is just rumor, but after it happened—before all communications were cut off—word came along the line that it came out of a top secret base in Raleigh."
"Raleigh?" Sarah was shocked. "Is that why you came all the way here?"
"No," Dunblane said. "Even if it did, what difference does it make at this point? What's done is done."
"So why are you here?"
A sudden swell of wind swept by their makeshift camp and swatted at the fire. They all shivered and looked around at the rain-streaked night, the storm showing no sign of stopping.
"We're heading to Little Creek," he said. "That's in Virginia, close to here. An old commander of ours was transferred there just before the shit hit the fan. If there's one tough son of a bitch who would still be alive, it's him. We know he would still be in the area, and he would know what to do."
"Do you... think I could come with you?"
He eyed her up and down.
"No way," Paulson said.
"Sorry, lady," Tanner added.
Dunblane saw the pleading in her eyes; the desperation. He knew she was twisting in the wind with no idea what she was doing out here. "We don't take charity cases," he said.
"I'll be useful," she protested. "I promise!"
He looked at the others. "We're a unit. We do fine for ourselves and survive because we operate like a well-oiled machine. We have a system and it works. You don't mess with something like that. The last thing we want to do is protect you all the time."
Her face fell. "Well, never mind, then."
The rest of the men made sounds of indignation and stared off at the dark landscape around them, but Dunblane stared at her. He saw something in her that he hadn't seen in anyone else.
"Do you really think you can pull your weight?" he asked. "We are Navy SEALs, remember."
Her eyes lit up. "I can," she said quickly.
"Hey, what the hell, man?" Paulson said, looking at Dunblane.
"It's not far to Little Creek," Dunblane reasoned. "We're almost there. We can at least let her tag along until then. But after that, there are no promises." He looked at Sarah. "If we decide you don't hang with us after that, you don't hang with us. And if you don't pull your weight until then, we leave without you. And don't expect us to save your butt. Understand?"
She nodded. "I got it."
The three others made sounds of disapproval, but Dunblane waved them off. "Relax, guys. Cut her some slack."
"Whatever..." Roscoe said. "She is cute, though."
"In a MILF sort of way," Paulson added.
"You into the cougars?" Tanner asked, turning his head to Roscoe.
"Knock it off, guys," Dunblane said. "Remember your code."
They shut up and Sarah smiled at him for coming to her aid. He winked at her and they all relaxed and enjoyed the bonfire as she finished her late dinner.
"So how do you guys even lift those things?" she asked, looking at their assault rifles.
"Not so heavy without any ammo," Roscoe said, smiling.
"Shut up, man!" Tanner said, smacking him on the arm.
Roscoe rubbed his arm as he realized he said something he shouldn't have and sheepishly turned his head away.
Dunblane shook his head at them and a tiny smile came over his face. "They're not loaded," he confirmed.
"None of them?" she asked, surprised.
"Nope."
"What happens if you run into bandits?" she asked.
"We point our big guns at them and hope they don't call our bluff," he said. "We've been out of ammo since Charlotte. We looked around here and there on our way, but everything around here's been cleaned out."
"What about the zombies?" she asked.
"Aw, they're not so bad. Giving 'em a good smack with the butt of your rifle will knock them on their asses all day long. But if we need to kill, we're all pretty good with knives."
"Can you show me some things?" she asked.
He smiled. "You want to know how to protect yourself?"
"I know a little," she said, "but it sounds like you guys really know your stuff."
"We can show you a thing or two in the morning, ma'am."
"Please don't call me ma'am," she said.
"Sorry," he said, "force of habit."
The others snickered.
"Well, I think we should turn in for the night," he said. "Got a long day ahead of us tomorrow." The men went through their supplies and pulled out their sleeping bags that they each had tightly rolled up. "We don't have anything for you to sleep in tonight," he told Sarah.
"That's okay," she said. "I'm just happy to be out of the rain." The fire had dried her front, minus her hair, which was still fairly wet all over. She looked down at her waist suddenly, realizing she never spared a minute to see what she still had on her after her ordeal in the woods. Her bow had snapped in half and her arrows had spilled all over the ground, but the hatchet was still wedged into one of the belt loops on her jeans and her small bag of clothes was still tied to the other side, though it was drenched. She untied the bag and pulled out a pair of track pants, a couple blouses, socks, and a couple pairs of undergarments. She laid them out on the concrete near the fire to dry along with the sack that she carried them in.
The men had all unrolled their sleeping bags and stuffed themselves inside, immediately closing their eyes. Sarah curled up on the hard concrete, closing her eyes and trying to get comfortable as Dunblane continued to sit on the ground and stare out into the night.
"Here," he said, leaning over and grabbing his sleeping bag. He handed it to her and she reached out apprehensively for it.
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"Yeah. I'm on first watch anyway."
She smiled, taking it and unrolling it. "Thanks," she said before crawling inside and getting comfortable. She was still a little wet and her body ached, but she was warm and safe, and that was all that mattered.
Dunblane stared all around as they slept, keeping a keen eye out for any approaching dangers.
Sarah listened to the pounding rain landing all around them and let herself drift off into sleep.
She woke up sometime the next morning feeling groggy. She had gotten a very deep sleep through the night and before she started to roll around in her sleeping bag, she enjoyed how good she felt. When she did start moving, she could feel the familiar aches and pains from the night before, although they were less pronounced. And she felt cold.
Her eyes snapped open and looked down, wondering why such a cold breeze had glided over her body when the sleeping bag should have kept her warm.
But the sleeping bag wasn't covering her anymore; it was unzipped down to her ankles and the flap was pulled over to the side, where it lay lightly flapping in the wind.
And then she noticed that the button and zipper on her jeans were undone and splayed to the sides, exposing her pink cotton panties. Her coat was undone and her blouse hiked up a little, leaving the bare skin of her stomach in view. She shifted her body and noticed that her bra wasn't on right.
As she started to panic, she lifted up her blouse and pulled her bra back down into place, which had been left crookedly yanked up with half of her left nipple exposed. She reached a hand under her panties and wiped herself, then inspected her fingers, but it didn't look or feel like anyone had violated her; more like they h
ad just looked. She did her pants up and climbed out of the opened sleeping bag, turning around to face the four men who had abused her. In the split second that occurred as she turned, half of her felt furious and wanted to attack them, but the other half was terrified of what else they would do to her. When she spun around and saw them, her reaction was entirely different.
They were all still lying in their sleeping bags, except for Dunblane, who was lying directly on the concrete. The bonfire had been put out, leaving only blackened wood and nestled embers holding onto their own warmth. And each of their severed heads were lined up in front of the fire, standing on their bloody stumps with lifeless eyes staring straight ahead.
Sarah screamed and staggered backward. She nearly toppled over the edge of the embankment and tumbled down, but she steadied herself and crouched down onto the ground, staring at the horrific scene.
Their mouths were open and their tongues lolled out lazily. A colossal pool of blood had dried around the area and she saw that it had surrounded her sleeping bag.
She frantically checked herself, but the blood had only touched the bottom of the bag and not her.
All of the men's supplies had been left untouched and it didn't seem like a robbery. This was something different entirely, and she immediately remembered the body that had been stabbed to death and bitten by the side of the highway.
She stood up and spun around on the spot, searching the woods down below, the top of the hill around her, and the overpass above. But she couldn't see anyone, nor any sign that someone had been there, the gruesome scene aside.
Her body shook and her limbs were weak. She stumbled around, walking out onto the nearby grass on the other side of the overpass from where she came the night before. Her body temperature skyrocketed and suddenly the cold air felt like the only thing preventing her from exploding. She found her way over to a bush before she couldn't hold it in anymore. She threw herself onto the ground and puked all over the grass and some of her fingers. She dragged a hand across her sour mouth and stood up again, too afraid to stay put. She didn't know what was going on, but she knew she had to get out of there. She wanted desperately to take off running, but she threw a glance over her shoulder at the supplies they had sitting near the edge of their camp.
Zombie Apocalypse Series (Book 3): Ashes in the Mouth Page 3
