He waited a few more minutes before leaving the store. If there were any zombies in the area, they had moved on. They didn’t play the hide-and-wait game. They just attacked, making no effort to be quiet. Some people, on the other hand, could be just as skilled as Dex at the patience game.
And that was what worried him. He stepped out of the building, aiming his arrow in all directions and making the fiercest expression he could. Any humans in the area needed to know he wasn’t one to mess with, not without serious consequences.
In the distance, a bird sang. Dex relaxed a little. Where there were birds, trouble was usually far away. Birds fled danger as did other animals. They sensed danger in a way that Dex still had not figured out.
He kept his back to the building as he walked around, looking for danger. The bird continued singing. Once Dex was fairly certain he was safe—he could never fully be sure—he headed back toward the woods. It wasn’t far down the cracked, broken road, but he wasn’t about to let his guard down for a moment.
Abandoned cars littered the roadway. Most had shattered windows, showing that others before him had already ravaged them for anything useful. A couple were tipped over on their sides and one was upside down. Groans and hisses sounded from that one and a bony hand wiggled, reaching out toward him.
Images of his mom as a zombie flashed through his mind. The disgusting monster trapped in the car had once been someone’s loved one, just like his mom. If Dex could safely reach the creature, he’d put the monster out of its misery.
He shook his head. Dex couldn’t afford to allow himself to get sentimental. Regardless of who the wanderers once were, they were now mindless, dangerous killers with no regard for human life. It had been stupid of him to let his guard down when he’d recognized his mom. She’d very nearly scratched him, and if she had, Dex would now be one of the organ-hungry, brain-dead monsters.
He went on, following the abandoned road and rounding a corner. A delivery truck lay on its side, the back door cracked open a few inches. There was no dirt or grime on the vehicle. Its mirrors reflected the bright sunlight.
It was fresh.
That meant food, weapons, or something else useful could be inside.
Or it could be a trap.
Dex tightened his grip on the arrow and bow. He slowed his pace. The only food he’d managed to find in the last few days had been berries. If there was something to eat inside the truck…
He crept toward the vehicle, his pulse pounding. Furrowing his brows, he aimed his weapon in various directions, ready to attack at a moment’s notice.
Silence rang through the air. The singing bird was either too far away to hear or had gone silent. Dex circled the truck. The driver’s portion was empty. The seats were shredded and bloody. Mirrors cracked and smeared with red. A streaked, bloody handprint ran across the buckled windshield.
No bodies remained. Either the monsters had been startled enough to completely finish off the people or they’d dragged them away.
Or it was a trap.
If it looked too good to be true, it usually was. Except when it wasn’t.
Dex sniffed the air. Nothing unusual. Sun-scorched concrete. Fresh flowers in bloom nearby. The metallic scent of blood.
Beads of sweat broke out along his forehead. He pulled some hair out of his eyes and raked his fingers through his almost-shoulder-length locks. Once he found a place to stay with a mirror, he needed to chop some off with his knife again. But clean, unbroken mirrors were harder and harder to come by with each passing day as were many things made in factories long ago.
He circled the truck again, staying on high alert. The silence continued. Not even the slight rustling of leaves from a breeze. Heat from the sun beat down, offering no relief.
Dex wiped more sweat from his forehead and stopped a foot away from the back door. Hunger and curiosity were getting the better of him. He should run—that would be the safe thing to do—but what if food or weapons were inside, abandoned? Was it worth the risk?
He debated with himself before taking a slow step toward the door while listening. Not a creak of shifting weight inside. The silence continued. His pulse raced through his body, pumping faster with each agonizing moment that passed.
Another step. More silence. The sun continued to beat down its hot rays.
What could be inside? His mouth watered, hoping for packaged food that would last a while. His fists clenched reflexively as he imagined a stock of guns, new bullets, arrows, and other weapons he could gather and bring with him.
Dex took another step. He could almost reach the door. Sweat trickled down the side of his face. His mouth went dry.
He stepped closer. Reached out for the handle.
Something creaked inside the vehicle.
Dex froze for a split-second before spinning around and running.
A clatter sounded behind him as the door burst open and banged against the truck. A thunder of footsteps pounded on the cement.
“Get him!”
Chapter 4
Dex pulled his bow into position as he ran down the street, dodging parked cars and debris laying around. He cursed himself for being such an idiot. He’d allowed his hunger to get the best of him. The risk hadn’t been worth it, and he should’ve known better. Now he had a group of people after him, and who knew how many of them there were or what kinds of weapons they had?
The good news was that no shots rang out. Not only did that mean they probably had no firearms, but also that they weren’t drawing the attention of the wanderers. Most people with guns used them haphazardly, practically inviting the monsters to attack. There were only a few things that drew the attention of the mindless killers, and loud noises was on the top of the list.
Dex slid an arrow into place and held a few others, ready to replace that one. The footsteps grew closer and the people talked over each other, urging one another on to capture him.
A zombie stepped out from behind a van. It hissed and reached for Dex with its gnarly, germ-infested nails. He kicked it, spraying bodily fluids in all directions, and continued running. There was no time to deal with them now.
Something struck Dex’s shoulder. For a moment, fear tore through him, thinking he’d been shot. It only took a couple moments to realize it had only been a rock.
He ignored it and kept going. If he could get far enough ahead, he could hide and shoot his arrows. Hopefully, he had enough to go around. Then he would have to get away quickly because the scent of blood and guts were next on the list of things that attracted the wanderers.
Something struck Dex in the back of his head. Now they were pissing him off. He darted behind a blood-spattered, dirt-caked silver sedan, squatted, and fired his first arrow into the chest of the nearest man. He cried out, pulling on the shaft but unable to get it free. His friends didn’t stop to help him. Typical. The man fell to his knees, blood staining his shirt as it pooled out.
Dex shot two more arrows, managing to get two more men right in the heart. One fell onto the hood of a nearby car, but the other man only charged with more determination toward Dex. And there were still a half a dozen others after him, coming closer by the moment. He had a clear shot of one, so he aimed it at his temple. The arrow sank in quickly. Since Dex spent so much time fighting the wanderers, he’d perfected the temple shot.
He scrambled to his feet and headed back to the mattress store. It gave him ample places to hide and shoot, and he already knew the layout of the inside. He would have the advantage over his attackers.
Dex ran down the road, just past the building, but then took a sharp turn toward it and jumped in through one of the broken windows. He stumbled into a shredded, stained bed and regained his footing before darting toward the back to hide behind a stack of headboards.
Groan! Hiss!
A blank-eyed creature stood only a foot away from Dex, snapping its few teeth at him.
Angry conversation from the people sounded outside the building. They didn’t know where he wa
s. Yet.
Dex pulled a knife from its sheath and stabbed the wanderer in its temple. It shrieked and reached for him, but crumbled to the ground, flailing around. Dex breathed a sigh of relief and peeked around the headboards. Three men walked by a window, waving around knives and swords, grumbling, and cursing.
“He didn’t get away,” one man snapped. “The dude’s around here somewhere. We just have to find him.”
“We should just let him go. He killed three of our guys by himself!”
“And we still outnumber him, stupid. It’s simple math.”
Their voices trailed off as they walked farther away.
Dex stepped out from his hiding place and hefted up the monster. He leaned it against the front headboard, jamming its back into a pole so it stood upright as though able to attack. Better yet, its extremities still flinched from being so recently killed. It was the perfect diversion until the group moved on.
The voices grew louder. They were headed his way again. Dex ducked back into his hiding spot.
“A biter!” one of the men cried.
Every group of people had a different name for the wanderers. Some of them were less creative than others. Dex had grown up in a walled-in town that just called them monsters or wanderers.
Dex tensed, waiting to see what the men would do. Would they run from the propped-up monster? Or would they figure out it was a farce, and then corner him?
Two men argued. Dex peeked through a space between the headboards and only saw two men. He could easily take out two, but the others would be nearby, and they would hear a scuffle. Dex didn’t have enough arrows to go around. Once he ran out, he’d have to rely on knives, but he preferred to fight at a distance, giving him the safety of space.
The two idiots continued bickering with each other. That was another reason Dex didn’t want to travel with a group. There was always at least one person who, though he or she was supposed to help the team protect the others, would actually put them in danger. This group had two such Neanderthals.
Dex pulled one arrow into position. He rose just enough that he had a clear shot of fool number one and released it before ducking back down. He peeked through the crack again. The arrow sailed through the air silently. Fool number two saw it first. His eyes widened and his mouth gaped, but he finally stood quiet.
His buddy didn’t notice at first, but then turned. Just as he did, the arrow flew deep into his eye. He screamed out, flailing worse than the wanderers.
Rather than helping, fool number two spun around and ran, leaving his wounded friend. Dex pulled the next arrow into place and released it, sending it straight into the man’s back. From the look of it, it should’ve gone straight through his heart. He fell to the ground. Dex rose again, listening for the others.
Nothing. Not footsteps, not conversation. It was as though the others had left those two buffoons, knowing they’d get themselves killed.
He waited. A minute, two, three.
Silence.
Dex needed to get out of the store before the dead men’s blood drew in a hoard of wanderers.
He crept out from his hiding spot, avoiding the still-twitching monster, and held his breath as he made his way to gather his two arrows. The one on top remained in perfect shape, albeit bloody, but the other one had been smashed.
One was better than none. Dex reached for the shaft. Just as his fingers grasped the wood, footsteps sounded.
A group of men bearing blades of various sizes rounded the corner.
Chapter 5
In one swift motion, Dex brought the bloody arrow to his bow and shot it into the heart of the nearest guy. A blur of commotion broke out. Someone’s hand wrapped around his neck. Dex smashed the end of the bow into the nearest head.
Crack!
The man reached for the spot Dex had hit him between the eye and temple. Someone else shoved Dex against a wall and pressed his forearm against Dex’s neck. He choked and gasped for air, not getting much. Another man punched him across the face. They all shouted over each other at him.
Dex kicked a kneecap and shoved the man blocking his airway. He only pressed harder. Dex reached into one of his sheaths and pulled out a knife. Luckily, he’d grabbed the longest one—the one that had once belonged to his dad—and dug it into the side of the man’s neck. He pulled it out and blood sprayed out and he finally released his hold on Dex.
A blur of arms and hands came at him over the cacophony of shouts, threats, and curses. He swung his knife, only managing to slice a small line across a cheek. A fist flew toward Dex, and he met it with his blade, digging straight through. Then he spun and kicked one man back and then another. He drove one end of his bow into someone’s nose and dug his blade into another man’s shoulder. Another lunged for him, but Dex ran, pushing over the man whose hand he’d injured.
Everything went by in a blur as he ran through the store, darting around fallen mattresses and long-dried messes on the floor.
“Get back here!”
“Stop!”
The men’s steps echoed on the hard floor. Dex tripped over a broken bed frame, but regained his footing just in time to jump out a broken window. Pain seared through his calf as a shard of glass sliced through his denims and into his skin. He grimaced, but refused to let the wound slow him down. Taking care of it would have to wait. The group wouldn’t slow down until either he killed them or they killed Dex—which wasn’t going to happen. Then there was the matter of his blood attracting the wanderers.
He headed for the woods. His best option at this point would be to climb a thick, bushy tree and hide until the group decided to move on and find their next victim. Sweat beaded on his forehead and rolled into his eyes, stinging and blurring his vision.
Dex wiped his eyes and blinked quickly, trying to remedy the situation.
“There he is!”
Just perfect. Dex wiped his brow before more perspiration could give him trouble. He came to another building and darted around it. There were no broken windows. In fact, they were all sealed shut, some with boards and nails.
Scratch, scratch, scratch!
Dex skidded to a stop. Someone had locked monsters inside the building.
This could be his chance. He ran over to where a door had been boarded up and pulled on a plank. The piece of wood resisted, but finally came off.
Shouts from the men sounded just on the other side of the building.
There wouldn’t be enough time to free the monsters and unleash them on the group.
But that wouldn’t stop Dex from trying. He wrapped his fingers around the largest piece of wood. It snapped in two. That one was only plywood. So was the next one. He gripped it and yanked. It broke into several pieces.
The yelling grew louder. Closer.
Scratch, scratch, scratch! It was louder now, and so were the grunts and growls from the creatures. Breaking apart the boards was getting their attention, and they would be hungry.
Heart thundering, Dex pulled off the last few boards.
“There you are!”
Dex turned toward them. They were only a few yards away. The door next to him rattled. He reached for the knob, twisted it, and yanked open the door. The foul odor hit him first. He jumped out of the way as the monsters piled out, reaching into the air. Dex ran around to the other side of the building, careful not to make a sound. His bloody wounds were enough to draw the hungry beasts’ attention.
The other men shouted and swore. Most of the creatures followed the noise. They were fast—it had probably been quite some time since they’d had anything to eat. More continued flooding out of the building, following the hoard. There had to be at least fifty, and that was only counting the ones outside. The snaps and growls inside indicated there were a lot more fighting to get out.
Dex ran toward the woods. He needed to give himself as much distance between himself and the starving mob as he could. The group of attackers wouldn’t even be close to filling the brutes. He raced, forcing himself to ignore
his new wounds.
The men’s yelling had stopped. Only the sounds of hungry monsters filled the air now, and they were getting quieter as Dex grew the distance between them. He ran and ran, avoiding the occasional lone wanderer. His muscles burned and the wounds ached. There was no time to worry about them. Not when there was a group of potentially hundreds of zombies not far away.
Someone, most likely many someones, had gone to a lot of effort to trap those things inside the building. Now they were unleashed on the world again. Unfortunately, Dex’d had no other choice. But at least he was safe from those men.
He made it deeper into the woods. The sounds of the wanderers had long gone silent. He wasn’t going to let his guard down, though. Despite his stinging gash and various bruises, he pushed on, putting as much distance between him and them as possible. Sure, there would be others—there were always others, whether it be people or monsters—but he couldn’t afford to worry about that yet.
Chapter 6
Dex slowed, gasping for air. He needed to rest, or his body would give out. He leaned against a tree and glanced around. There were no signs of anyone, living or dead. It was so peaceful that nearby birds even sang.
His stomach growled. Might he be able to catch one and roast it? Sure, a fire was always dangerous. Not so much the fire itself, but the smoke that tended to draw attention was always a risk. But a roasted bird would be worth it. Berries just weren’t cutting it, especially not considering all the monsters he’d been running into lately.
It seemed like there were more than there used to be. Or was that just because there were more in this area? He was constantly on the move, and different regions had their own set of problems. Forests tended to have less people, and that was why Dex stuck to them as much as possible.
Dex Page 2
