by James Cook
“Sarah, take what you have and go to that end of the fence.” I said, pointing. “Shoot as many as you can. Tom, I need you to stay here and load mags. Faster is better.” He gave a quick nod and went back to work. Sarah loaded her rifle and stuffed as many magazines in her coat pockets as she could fit before taking her place on the firing line.
I propped the HK’s forearm on a fence rail and braced it between my thumb and forefinger to steady my aim. The first walker my sights lined up on was an older woman wearing the tattered remnants of a set of hospital scrubs. That’s strange, I thought, there isn’t a hospital for at least twenty miles. I squeezed the trigger and blasted her brains out onto the rocky hillside. The next one was a tall, powerfully built man wearing a set of bloodstained coveralls and boots that hadn’t fallen apart yet. Either he had not been dead for very long, or those were some good quality shoes. The red dot on my optics blotted out his head as I squeezed the trigger again. He went down like a puppet with its strings cut. I adjusted my aim and dropped another one. And another, and another. Ninety rounds, and seventy or so dead infected later, I gave Tom my empty magazines and grabbed a handful of freshly loaded ones. The four of us poured lead at the army of walkers as fast as we could pull the trigger, but it quickly became clear that we were fighting a losing battle. For every one we destroyed, two more seemed to take its place.
What the hell? Where did these bastards come from? I thought as my weapon thumped into my shoulder. I lowered the muzzle long enough to take a look around, and my heart sank all over again. There was no way that we were going to kill all of these infected before they reached the fence. We needed a new plan. I looked around to assess my options while racking my brain for ideas. Every foul word I ever learned flowed out of my mouth in a livid stream of desperate frustration. I felt a crazed, irrational urge to grab an axe and climb over the gate. Some kind of mad, suicidal gremlin in my brain wanted to run howling at the ghouls and feel the satisfying crunch of skulls breaking under a heavy blade.
Stop it, Eric. An inner voice told me. Get that temper under control and calm down. Be a man and think for a second. Even if there are enough of them out there to break down the fence, it’s going to take them a while. You still have time to come up with a plan.
The voice in my head sounded hauntingly like my father.
“Everybody stop! Cease fire!” I shouted.
The three of them had taken a few steps back from the fence to stay out of reach of the undead. Dozens of infected had made it to the fence line and heaved impotently against the sturdy steel rails. The fence shuddered but held steady. Everyone stopped firing and looked at me. Gabe’s expression was grim. Brian was wide-eyed with fear and stood close to his mother.
“We need to keep putting as many of these things down as we can.” Gabe said. “Unless you have a better idea.”
“I’m working on it. Come with me and give me a hand. Tom,” I point at the older man, “Get your family down into the shelter. Don’t come out until Gabe or I give the all clear.”
“The hell you say.” Sarah strode over to me and gave me a hard stare. “We’re not going to hide in a hole while you two get yourselves killed.”
I shook my head and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Sarah, what I’m about to do is a two man job. Anybody else would just get in the way. I can handle this, but I need you three to get somewhere safe. Please, Sarah, don’t argue with me on this one.”
She glared at me for a moment longer.
“Fine.” She pointed a finger an inch from my nose. “But you better not screw this up. If I have to come up here and save you, you’re gonna be on the business end of an ass-kicking, you understand me?”
I gave a grim smile and nodded. “We’ll be careful.”
“I don’t like this, Eric.” Tom said, coming to stand beside Sarah. “We should all get down in the bunker. If we wait down there long enough they might wander off.”
“Right, but not until they destroy our fence, and wreck our home nineteen ways from Sunday. You have to live here after we leave. I’m not about to let these rotten pieces of shit destroy everything we’ve built.” I laid a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Please, just do this for me. Everything’s going to be fine, just get down there and wait. We’ll get this sorted out.”
“Come on, honey.” Sarah said as she took her husband’s hand and started toward the shelter. He gave me one last doubtful glance, and then followed his wife. Brian stopped in front of me before following them.
“You sure you don’t want me to stay and help?”
In spite of the madness of the situation, I had to smile at the kid’s courage. “No, you’ve done enough for today. Go take a breather.”
Brian shook his head and went after his parents. A few seconds later, they were all down the ladder with the lid closed tight behind them.
“Alright, hero. What’s the plan?” Gabe said, staring out at the growing horde.
“Let’s get the ladder from the tool shed. I need to get a better vantage and try to see how many of these things we’re dealing with.” I replied.
Gabriel retrieved his telescoping ladder. The latches on the segments clicked into place as we pulled on either end to extend it and lock it open. Gabe held the base as I climbed up onto the cabin. The steep pitch of the roof provided treacherous footing as I moved to get a better look at the horde. Solar panels took up most of the space underfoot, making it tough not to step on them. I cupped my hands around my eyes to shield them from the sun, and began making a rough count. I held up enough fingers on one hand to cover ten ghouls, then brought my other hand up and covered the same number. Hand over hand I counted over the length and width of the horde, keeping count in my head. When I finished, I gave a low whistle and rested my hands on my hips, shoulders slumped.
There were over a thousand of the things.
Something was not right.
Where did all these things come from? I hadn’t seen more than twenty infected moving as a single group in over a year. What motivated these rotten bastards to get together all of a sudden and come after us? I looked down to the gate to see how it was holding up. So far, it looked okay. A length of chain lying near the gate caught my eye, and I remembered Tom saying he thought the lock had been cut.
“What do you think?” Gabe asked as I climbed down the ladder and turned to face him.
“You want the bad news, or the really fucking bad news?” I replied.
“Just tell me, we don’t have time for bullshit.” He snapped.
“The bad news is that there are about a thousand of the things. As for the really fucking bad news, I don’t think those infected came here on their own.”
Gabe’s scowl deepened. “You think someone led them here?”
“I don’t know. I think the chain on the gate was cut. It’s still there, let’s go get it.”
I walked over to the scrap pile and picked out a length of two-by-four. Gabe covered me with his SCAR as I stood near the fence and worked the chain closer. Once I had it out of reach of the infected, I picked it up and examined it. Gabe and I took a few steps back to escape the stench of all those dead bodies, it was enough to make my eyes water. I turned the chain over in my hands and found where it was broken. My jaw clenched, and I could feel my temper heat up as I handed it to Gabriel.
Someone had cut one of the links clean through.
Gabriel cursed in about six languages as he hurled the chain to the ground.
“Some fucking coward doesn’t have the balls to take us on, so he sends a bunch of undead after us to do his dirty work.” He growled, fuming. “I’m gonna find this fucker, Eric, and I’m going rip him apart. I will kill every goddamn one of those infected with my bare hands if I have to.”
Gabe is a scary guy when he is in a good mood. Right then, his face was a mask of fury and waves of anger boiled from him like a rising thunderhead. His fierce grey eyes blazed with murder, and I swear I could hear the handle of his rifle crack a little under his grip. The s
cars on his face stood out a livid purple against his skin. This was not good, he needed to calm down. I laid a conciliatory hand on his shoulder and gave him a little shake.
“Hey, I’m with you old buddy. If we live through this today, I’ll help you find whoever is responsible for this and I will personally hold the son of a bitch down while you peel his skin off. In the meantime,” I said pointing a finger toward the bunker, “we have to figure out a way to get ourselves, not to mention the Glovers, out of this alive.”
Gabe looked toward the bunker and nodded after a moment. He heaved a deep breath to calm himself.
“Okay. I vote we get some more rifles up here and get to work culling the herd.” He said. “We got enough ammo to put them all down, it’ll just take a while.”
As if on cue, a violent creeeeaaaak-SPANG screamed from the fence as a weld on one of the lower support struts gave way. We spun around with weapons raised, half expecting to see a wall of corpses bearing down on us. The undead strained forward where the fence was starting to give, reaching and clutching through the gap. It was not yet wide enough for them to get through, but it was only a matter of time.
“We don’t have that kind of time, Gabe. We need to go to plan B.” I said.
“We have a plan B?”
“Um…yeah. I think we do.” I turned and looked to the western fence, the one that led out to the cliff. There was a section a little way northward from the fire pit where the precipice narrowed down to about twelve feet.
If only we could…yeah. That should work.
“Gabe, go fire up your Tacoma and park it over there where the cliff narrows outside the gate.” I turned him around by the shoulder and pointed. “Put the front bumper as close to the cliff as you can, then lock the fence and get into a shooting position on top of the cabin.”
Gabe looked perplexed for a moment, and then a grin spread across his face.
“I’m on it.” He said.
I waited for Gabe to pour a small amount of our precious fuel supply into the truck, just enough to do what we needed, and then opened the gate for him. While he parked the vehicle, I ran up and down the edge of the fence waving my arms and shouting at the undead to draw their attention. The fence shuddered violently under the strain as the mass of ghouls redoubled their efforts to tear it down. After calling out to let me know the truck was in position, Gabe climbed onto the roof of the tool shed and settled down into a stable firing position. The horde followed me around to the other side of the fence, their wasted faces fierce with hunger. I took my time climbing over, being careful not to slip and fall on the way down. A sprained ankle or a twisted knee right about then would have been disastrous. I wanted to run when my feet hit the dirt on the other side, but I forced myself to calm down and walk. There was no need to rush, the walkers were coming for me as fast as their rotten legs could carry them. Just to make sure I had their complete and undivided attention, I unslung my HK, removed the suppressor, and started taking potshots. The loud crack of the rifle had the intended effect. The whole horde heaved and trampled over one another trying to get to me. You have to give the undead one thing; they are wonderfully predictable. I checked behind me, shuffled back a few steps, and dropped a couple more walkers.
Check, shuffle, fire.
Check, shuffle, fire.
Again and again, bullets devastated the heads of revenants shambling near the front of the crowd. Every time a corpse ate the dirt, the walkers behind it tripped and fell over its carcass, further throwing their ranks into disarray. Gabriel, being the bright fellow that he is, saw what I was doing and started blasting away with his SCAR. The straining, heaving mass of walking dead struggled over one another in undulating waves as I led them back around to the cliff on the other side of the mountain. They bunched up, climbed over the fallen, and slowly stretched out their front line. Any ideas I had about the undead showing advanced intelligence was laid to rest as I watched the stinking mass of flesh-eating horrors chase after me. There was no unit cohesion there, only a bunch of mindless animals fighting each other to be first in line at the buffet.
Minutes felt like hours as I rounded the edge of the fence and drew the horde toward the narrow part of the cliff. A quick check of my belt showed me that I was down to my last couple of magazines for the HK. I slowed my rate of fire to conserve ammunition.
The edge of the horde to my right bulged out as the undead in the back tried to force their way to the front. The ones that fell down crumpled under the pressure of hundreds of stomping feet breaking their bones and, occasionally, their skulls. That was fine by me, it made my job that much easier. I dropped back to load my last magazine and felt the metal of the Tacoma’s driver side door against my calf. The closest undead were less than twenty yards away. I fired off a few more rounds until the chamber locked open on the rifle. I shifted it behind my back and drew my pistol.
I managed to drop four more infected before the rest got too close and I had to turn and jump into the bed of the truck. Once I was on top of the roof, I waved my arms and shouted at the waves of infected, just barely out of reach of their skeletal, grasping fingers. Looking out over the sea of corpses, I saw them start to bottleneck and bunch up at the edge of the fence line. As they closed the distance, the walkers on the far side toward the cliff were beginning to be pushed out over the edge by the ghouls behind them. For a moment, I stood there holding my sides and belting out half-mad peals of laughter at the shambling idiots. I guess it was one of those situations where you either laugh, or you into hysterics. Laughing feels better, and was less likely to get me killed, so that’s what I did.
The horde packed in tighter and tighter, forcing more and more of their number over the side of the cliff. Gabe continued pouring fire at the ones toward the back to thin out their numbers. I refrained from shooting the ones at my feet for fear that the undead behind them would use them as a stepping stool to get closer to me. In very short order, there were so many corpses trapped between the truck and the fence that they actually managed to slide the truck backward a few feet. I nearly lost my balance and had to hop down into the bed and leap for the fence. My foot slipped on the rail, and for a terrifying instant, I saw myself being pulled down into the press of corpses and savagely ripped apart. The image sparked a desperate burst of adrenaline that lent me enough strength to haul myself up with just my arms until my feet could gain purchase. With my heart pounding like a kick drum, I reached the top of the fence and hooked a leg over the uppermost rail. My instincts were screaming at me to climb down and run as fast as I could in the other direction, but I knew it was important to stay where the undead could see me. Wherever I went, they would follow. I wanted them to keep doing what they were doing and annihilate themselves, so running away was not an option. A few deep breaths helped me get myself together, and I settled in to watch the show. The truck slid a few more inches in the hard gravel under the weight of the infected pushing against it, but not any further. Corpses poured over the cliff by the dozens, then by the hundreds. Their chilling, ravenous eyes never left me for a second, even as they toppled over the edge.
After the better part of an hour, only a hundred or so infected were still moving between the fence and the cliff. Gabe and I climbed down from our roosts and gave Tom and Sarah the all clear. They were more than happy to take up their M-4’s and help us deal with the remaining undead. We formed a firing line along the fence and went to work dispatching the few stragglers that somehow managed not to fall off the mountain. A few minutes and a lot of burned cordite later, the last few revenants slumped to the ground with bullet-sized holes in their skulls.
Gabe and I stood outside the fence with the others for a few moments looking out over our handiwork. My ears rang from the sound of gunfire, my shoulder was sore from recoil, and my headache had returned with a pounding vengeance, but in spite of all that I couldn’t help but feel a sense of elation. A horde of over a thousand undead had attacked us, and we managed to defeat their threat with only a litt
le bit of damage to the fence and a minimal expenditure of ammunition. My good mood was short lived, however, when I remembered that these corpses didn’t find us on their own, but were led to us. Gabe made a gesture at the vultures that were already circling overhead.
“Reckon we ought to do something about this mess?” He said. “Damn buzzards ain’t gonna wait too much longer.”
I nodded in agreement. The last thing we needed was a swarm of giant carrion eaters spreading bird crap and infected tissue all over the place. Better they do that at the bottom of the cliff.
“Tell you what, if you and Tom don’t mind pushing those bodies over the edge, I’ll take Sarah and put down any crawlers still moving in the field.”
“Sounds like a plan, come give us a hand if you get finished before we do.” He said.
I clapped him on the shoulder and walked over to Sarah. She and Brian followed me as I moved toward the eastern gate. Sarah noticed that her son was in tow and rounded on him, pinning him in place with the kind of stern, no-nonsense glare that mothers have used since time immemorial to stop unruly children in their tracks.
