Downfall

by Michael S. Gardner

  Jeff thought fast. There was probably no way she could jump over or climb through the pit. There was one area blocked off by the van and truck where the pit ceased. Matt had mentioned in passing it had been done to avoid some of the utility lines. She could squeeze through easily enough.

  “Come on,” he yelled. “Follow me.”

  She looked at Jeff, still crying, and he noticed that she held a brown teddy bear firmly in her left hand. It was almost pathetic seeing such an innocent thing looking the way she did. The world had been malicious world before all this madness, and now Jeff couldn’t find the word. He just ran.

  “You can get in over here! They won’t hurt you, I promise!” He ran with the memories of hundreds dying before him, most of whom he’d refused to help because, at the time, they’d seemed helpless. “C’mon!”

  Finally the girl broke out of her daze and followed Jeff, crying so loudly that it became palpable. The woods in the front yard were already birthing rotters.

  Jeff jumped the hood of the F-150 and raced to the bed, where he stretched out his arms and grabbed the girl as she came running to him. She felt cold, almost like a corpse. He scooped her up and carried her over the roof, down the front window, and into the yard. “Go to the back door.” She turned around with a look that almost resembled a smile.

  The woods were practically bleeding rotting corpses now, and by the time the little girl rounded the corner of the house, Matt and Cole were running toward the pit. Before Jeff could say anything, the sounds of the .22 firing barked. He turned to see the rotters in the front being picked off.

  Before Jeff knew it, he was in a battle with the dead… and he knew this would only push things in Tim’s favor.

  ***

  Anna came running out the back door, bracing her belly, by the time Jeff had reached the backyard. Her attention was on the girl. Angela and Mary ran to the front, each equipped with a shotgun and pistol. Mary carried with her a sack labeled POTATOES. Jeff was sure it was ammunition. Kristin was bringing out gas cans. Tim, of course, was nowhere to be seen.

  “All right, guys,” Cole yelled. “Hold* your fire until they make it, if they make it across. We’re gonna test this pit out for real this time.”

  Jeff could hear Mary relaying the message to Alex from the front yard.

  “Watch out for runners and screamers. Those are the ones we don’t want to see, and those are the ones we’re gonna have to pick off.” Matt tucked his Sig at the small of his back and reached for his sword.

  “That’s like shooting at a straw in a haystack, Ryland,” Jeff said. “They’re all zombies.”

  “Watch their movement.” Matt unsheathed his sword.

  Cole held his own at the ready. “Look for the ones in the distance. Mostly, those screaming bastards’ll just observe from far away.”

  “Fucking pussies,” Matt said, spitting to the ground.

  “Just let the pit do its trick until it can’t no more,” said Cole. “We’ve got enough ammunition to hold them all off, but this’ll assure those that don’t want to leave that we’re not just chasing dreams.”

  “Like some of us,” Matt muttered.

  The first of the zombies fell into the pit. Matt saw this and bolted for the opposite—unguarded—side of the house, which Jeff now realized had been neglected. Soon the dead were falling in all over, except on Matt’s side, which was heavily wooded with smaller, much fuller trees. It would be hard even for him to traverse through that thicket of prickly madness.

  Every logical position was covered, Jeff noticed as he moved to the front of the property. Angela, Mary, and Alex (who watched from the second-floor window) covered the area, which had a few rotters here and there. Angela sat on the tailgate of the F-150, watching every part of her perimeter with her firearms beside her. Mary had the swagger of a prison warden, casting dismissive stares at each one of her newfound “prisoners.”

  “It’s actually working,” Jeff said with a strikingly calm voice.

  “What? You had doubts?” Mary shot him a look that said, You’re fucking with me, right?

  It would be a lie to say that the soldier didn’t have his doubts. Yet the pit seemed to be working just fine. If any zombies got across, surely they’d be handled.

  Jeff gave Angela a smile and a nod.

  “Screamer,” Alex yelled, and then fired three shots.

  Angela stood upright with the ease of a trained soldier, weapons in hand, eyes as cold as an executioner’s.

  “You stay here.” Jeff turned to Mary and signaled for her to watch this part of the yard, then was off.

  Another shot went sounded from Matt’s beloved Sig. Jeff glanced in the direction from which Matt was firing; he was once again beside Cole, who was jabbing those trapped in the pit in the heads with his sword. Cole did this almost at leisure, as if he were popping balloons, not zombie skulls. Jeff both admired and feared this act. It took courage to face your enemy, but if you got too careless all could be lost in an instant. These people lacked proper training and had educated themselves only by adapting to the world around them. Though they were mighty warriors in this new world, they needed discipline.

  Everyone has a purpose. Jeff picked up his pace, knowing he’d have to show these survivors the art of order.

  Matt fired a few more times at a dead man with long, bloody hair who actually looked to be hiding from them, behind the same tree he’d spotted the little girl. Did it smell her? Or was it actually afraid of the bullets?

  He didn’t want to find out the answer. He’d never seen rotters act this way.

  Matt fired once more. The thing ducked behind the tree. These actions would have to be brought to Tim’s attention, in the hope that he’d have some explanation.

  Jeff fired once the zombie met his eyes. His shot wasn’t true, and the bullet flew off into the distance, hitting some dying tree. The thing’s eyes, which were as dark as night, went wide as it staggered out.

  Matt fired. And missed.

  Raising the Beretta, training his sight on this strange rotter, Jeff noticed another. It had peeked out from a tree to the left.

  “We’ve got a second,” Matt said before he could.

  In that moment, the zombie Jeff had been targeting disappeared from his sights. His gaze had been so intent it took a second or two to refocus. He turned to Matt.

  “I think we’ve encountered these ones before.” Matt nodded to Cole and then to the trees. “Watch the tree line.”

  The rotters were hunting them, plain and simple. An uneasy feeling etched its way through Jeff as he watched the trees, all while the bulk of the horde was swallowed by the pit.

  The undead anomaly moved behind another tree, then another. A quick glance to Matt revealed he’d seen his mark as well. There was still no room for a clear shot, so Jeff tracked it as best he could.

  A chilling thought popped into Jeff’s head as he approached the fringe of the yard: We’re being baited. Matt was no longer at his outpost. The sheer mass of the horde was concentrating on the right side of the house, and Cole was still too busy disposing of those already inside the pit to take care of these strange creatures circling the house. Matt was as preoccupied with them as Jeff.

  A deafening roar came from behind Jeff, followed by a gunshot. He turned in time to see an older man sprawl out on the grass in a lifeless heap. Some sort of choked yell, almost like a gargled bark, came from the tree line.

  “Jeff!” Matt yelled. Before he could say anything else, he fired rapidly, desperately.

  Jeff raised his Beretta, but had it knocked out of his grip by a leaping monstrosity. He had just enough time to take in the fact that the rotter had actually cleared the pit before the wind was knocked out of him.

  In an instant, rot and pain filled his world. The raving thing straddled him like a randy ex-lover. Its maw opened and shut so hard the clicking sound nearly overpowered the gunfire coming from Matt’s direction. Jeff struggled with its arms, keeping them and that damn chomping mouth aw
ay from him. It snarled and barked, seeking desperately to infect Jeff with whatever coursed through its dead veins.

  Jeff did his best to turn the tide in his favor, but failed miserably. The creature pinned him, running on endless strength. Its hands gripped his wrists, clenching them like a vise.

  As a last-ditch effort, he bucked in hopes to throw the thing off balance, but it was just too heavy. Jeff watched in horror and fascination as the rotter’s mouth opened for the killing bite. Viscous brown fluid worked its way down the thing’s gray chin. With it came the overbearing stench of what was to come.

  Jeff closed his eyes and tried one last time to free himself.

  ***

  The little newcomer barely made it inside before she passed out. Her unconscious form trembled on the linoleum floor of the kitchen. Anna made an attempt to move the child, but her stomach was simply too big for her to maneuver around. She called for Tim, who was upstairs somewhere doing who knew what.

  “Where are those keys?” Anna said, turning her attention away from the girl.

  This house wasn’t safe; not enough for her, anyway. How many times had she been attacked—“in the middle of nowhere”—in the past week? Three? Four? Either number was at least one too many as far as she was concerned, and with all the chaos ensuing outside, she knew that if she were to survive she would have to leave. Now. One moment, it seemed as if the pit was working. The next, everyone was shooting and screaming.

  “Tim!”

  “I’m coming, I’m coming.” The good doctor came down the stairs as Anna waddled over.

  “We have to leave, Tim,” she said, her eyes wide.

  “What? That makes—”

  “They’re dying, Tim. All of them.” She paused for a few seconds to let the echoes of gunshots from upstairs and outside emphasize her point.

  Tim put a hand on her shoulder and forced a smile, understanding now that the situation was for more out of control than he’d anticipated. This will only assist my debate to leave. That thought made the smile real. “Calm down, Anna. We can’t leave like this. If we did, we’d be no better out there than we are in here.”

  “We could get through them, Tim. We have to.” She cupped her bulging belly. Kristin screamed again from outside. “If they get in…”

  “Anna,” Tim said as he approached her, “there is a time for running and a time for fighting. We have to let them fight.”

  She threw his arm off her. “I don’t care—”

  “M-Mommy.”

  Anna craned her head and saw the girl sitting up. Her little arms were wrapped around her stomach, dark brown hair falling over her dirty face. Anna scowled at Tim and moved toward the kid.

  “Mommy, I don’t feel so good.”

  “It’s okay, baby. We’ll take care of you.” Anna looked back at Tim, who was now at the kitchen’s entry. “We can’t just stay here. Please help me find the keys. I don’t care what happens to them.” She motioned to the back door. “They made their choice; now let them live with it so that we can live with ours.”

  Tim mulled over the idea.

  “Mommy, I’m hungry.” The girl rubbed her eyes and looked right at Anna; it stung the widow in her heart. Oh, how she wanted to hear her son call her “Mommy.” She’d yearned for this since she’d found out she and Barry were going to have a family, an actual family. Anna looked down at the newcomer and smiled. “Mommy’s gonna get you something to eat; just wait there.” The words felt great rolling off her tongue.

  If this girl needed a mommy, then, Anna supposed, it would be her—a thought that warmed a part of her heart she’d thought had died along with Barry.

  “Oh dear,” Tim muttered, hoping the soldier and his newfound friends were wrapping things up.

  Anna made for the cupboards and pulled out the first thing she found—S’mores pastries. There was an abundance of them. She handed the open packet over and cleared the hair shielding the child’s face.

  “What’s your name, little one?” Anna said. She was captivated by her brilliant blue eyes, the freckles visible on her stained cheeks.

  The girl looked at Anna as if the woman simply lost her mind. Tim popped another pill in the background, watching the scene play out.

  “Danielle, silly,” the girl answered with a giggle. “Don’t you remember?”

  When Danielle went to stand, she wobbled then fell back on her butt. The fall should have hurt; it sounded like it hurt, but Danielle laughed it off. There was something haunting about the tone of her laughter, as if possessed, but it was probably just nerves.

  “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear…” Tim slowly backed away as a realization set in.

  Face full of sweat, the girl tore off a piece of the pastry and stuffed it in her mouth, barely chewing before she swallowed. Her eyes blinked hard several times, as if she’d been fighting against sleep. She hiccupped and smiled. “Where were you, Mommy?”

  Anna didn’t know how to answer.

  The girl’s face went pale in an instant, and she leaned over, dry heaving. “I don’t feel so good.”

  “It’s all right, Danielle.” Anna began to lean in, but quickly backed away as the child released some dark brown matter that oozed in a slimy pool before her feet. Seeing chunks of the pastry floating in the horrid substance nearly made her puke, too. “Oh God.” She covered her nose and backed away.

  “You aren’t gonna leave us again, are you?” The girl’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and she dropped face first into thick, shit-colored fluid she had expelled. On her right shoulder blade, both Anna and Tim noticed the infected laceration.

  “This isn’t good.” Tim placed a hand on his forehead, the other removing the glasses from the tip of his nose. He wiped his face, his lower lip getting caught in the palm of his hand.

  Anna backed away and cupped her mouth. The way the girl hit the ground, it was as if she’d passed out. The puddle of brown stuff beneath her face showed no movement near her mouth.

  Danielle wasn’t breathing.

  “Tim,” Anna sobbed. “Check her pulse.”

  Pushing the glasses back where they belonged, Tim reached down, placing his middle and forefinger on her carotid artery. His movement slow and cautious. “Christ. She’s as cold as a corpse.”

  Anna gasped and backed all the way up to the sink. “She’s… she’s…”

  Tim looked up to her. “She’s dead, Anna.” It was a statement devoid of emotion, just like his stare. “And infected.”

  Anna felt it now more than ever. We have to leave. The gunfire had been going on for at least five minutes now, and showed no signs of faltering. “Tim, we’ve gotta go… now.”

  “I’ll check upstairs for the keys,” he said with a newfound sense of insecurity.

  When he left the kitchen, Anna made the effort to get to her knees; it took a bit of balancing, but she managed to avoid that horrid slimy stuff. She shook her head and wiped away a tear with a shaky hand.

  These people were going to die. Matt and Cole were nice—when they wanted to be—but they were unfit to be leaders. Anna would be damned if she would stay here any longer. She made her way to the drawer by the fridge and shuffled through its contents, not finding the keys.

  “Shit.” Anna slammed it shut. She heard the floor above creaking. And a wet dragging sound from behind.

  Danielle!

  Anna turned as girl’s hand wrapped around her right ankle. She stood frozen in fear as little Danielle pulled herself closer.

  “No, no, no,” Anna cried, looking around for something with which to fight the girl away. “This can’t be happening.” Fear and shock consumed her, rooted her to the linoleum floor.

  As Danielle clambered to her feet, Anna could hear a wet and wheezy slurping issuing from the dead child’s mouth.

  “Tim.” Inside it was a scream, but in reality it was accented breath leaving her throat.

  Danielle stood on steady feet, dark brown hair swooping down in knots. Her sweaty bangs nearly covered her gl
azed eyes. Discolored fluid dribbled down her face, staining the floor as she slowly raised her arms; her neck twitched sporadically. Danielle opened wide and grabbed Anna’s left arm.

  “No. God, please help me. Please.” She looked down at the girl, tried pushing her away, but the strength to do so was absent.

  She screamed as a stinging pain surged throughout her entire body, originating from her stomach. Danielle pulled back bloody fabric and slab of flesh. Blood seeped from the wound and gathered on the floor. Anna blinked, realizing that all was lost.

  She pushed Danielle off; the dead girl tumbled back and sprang to her feet in a movement so quick it was as if it hadn’t happened. She pounced on Anna, this time taking a good-sized chunk of flesh from the side of the woman’s neck. Blood sprayed the cabinets and crimson droplets peppered the floor. Danielle took a bite of Anna’s ear, nearly ripping the whole thing off as she tore away.

  “Mrs. Hamley!” Alex roared.

  Tim was following right behind.

  Anna screamed again. “Get her… off me!”

  Alex pulled the feasting zombie child off her and put two in her with the .22. Blood and brain matter met with that damned slimy liquid after the girl’s skull cracked from the impact of falling to the floor.

  “Mrs. Hamley.” Alex took a tentative step forward, right hand outstretched. Tim, she saw, had a set of keys dangling from the ring finger on his right hand.

  She had been so close. So close! Something inside saw fit to make her laugh and blot out the searing pain.

  “Mrs. Hamley.” Alex cried and reached for her.

  “Don’t touch me! Don’t you fucking come near me!” she yelled, batting the kid away.

  Alex backed up, crying even more. He no longer looked like a survivor. He was a boy lost, so far from home that he’d forgotten what it looked like.

  Anna swiped Alex’s rifle and shoved him into the “good” doctor who was supposed to have saved her and her baby. She had blood on her hands, but not the blood she wanted. Intensity grew inside her as she chambered a round.