by Briana Rain
I quickly found interest again in that small tear in my jeans, my face hot. I don't know why I was so embarrassed. It’s not like I was looking, I was just concerned for his health, that's all. A wet shirt could make him sick, and being sick could make him vulnerable to Crazies. That's all.
He didn't say anything, thank god. He only shrugged his jacket on, and helped Luck with his shirt off, then grabbed the blanket from the trunk, where I was sitting, and wrapped it around him.
“You can't do those kinds of things anymore, okay Lucky?” Clyde said, “Running into the woods by yourself isn't safe. You could've died. And stealing can get us all hurt now, okay? You can't do that.”
Lucky nodded, understandably not in a very talkative mood.
That seemed to satisfy Clyde, because he gave a curt nod, readjusted the blanket, and left Lucky to himself. Then, he turned to Vi.
“And you, little Miss, you were very brave staying here all by yourself and holding down the fort. I wanna thank you for keeping watch while we were gone.”
He stuck out his hand properly, and she did the same, grinning. It made me smile, seeing that he knew exactly what to say to my siblings, and more importantly, that I wouldn’t have to say it. I was too worried to do anything like that, and would’ve ended up screaming at them.
But the moment didn't last long, because the driver’s side door was thrown open, and a wet body threw themselves behind the wheel and slammed the door shut. The body was my mother.
She was gasping for breath, her shoulders heaving, looking more drenched than I was. Her clothes were torn.
“Where's Addeline?”
It wasn't a question. It was a demand. Clyde had realized that we were missing a member before I did, and to him, it was the most important one.
“We… we were separated.” Mom said in between breaths. “I'm sorry, Clyde.”
I sat against the left side of the car and he was in the seat on the right, staring at my mother, so I could only see half of his face. But what I could see of it looked like pure rage and hurt. Not necessarily directed at Mom, at least I hoped not, but at the situation. Like he wanted to go full on Rambo and bring his sister back all by himself, dead or alive.
He reached for the door, about to go out there and do it. There was nothing we could do to stop him, and make him wait.
Notice I said, we.
The multiple Crazies that smacked their bodies into the left side of the car, on the other hand, made him think twice about going out there.
Did I feel bad about losing Addeline? Sure I did. But I would feel worse about losing Clyde. We'd saved each other's lives more times than I could count, and it'd only been just over a day. And… he was so much kinder than what I'd seen of Addeline.
More Crazies attacked the car, directly aiming for it.
“There's a horde coming this way.” Mom said as her whole body shook.
Vi handed her the keys, and she shoved them into the ignition without questioning why my sister had the keys and I didn't. She also seemed to not notice that Vi was the only one present who was not soaked to the bone.
“That's what separated us. The last I saw, she was heading into the city.”
The Crazies were coming down thicker than the rain, which had started letting up. I was thankful that they didn't use their hands, and just screamed while smashing their heads and shoulders repeatedly into the metal and glass. Who knows, maybe they would do our job for us and wipe themselves out.
Mom gunned it, running over any Crazy foolish enough to stand in her path. Now, a Jeep Wrangler isn't fuel efficient in any sense of the term, but this is why Mom picked it out. It was as strong as a tank when it comes to the weak piles of soggy flesh and brittle bone, just plowing through the infected bodies. This, being able to get out of here, was worth the frequent and dangerous fuel stops.
We hit the exit ramp at a much more dangerous speed than the recommended thirty-five miles per hour, with a crowd of roaring Crazies behind us. The sun had set, and only that weird dusk light illuminated things. It made their pale skin look paler, their rotten flesh look rottener, and the red parts of their eyes glow. They kept pouring in, attracted by the calls of their brethren, I guess. The tail lights lit them like an eerie red spotlight. Some were clothed, some barely clothed, and some with not a scrap of fabric on them. All running towards us, all with arms at their sides, all with gaping mouths with shiny strings of spit splashing around, and all emitting one, continuous shriek.
The twins couldn’t take their wide eyes off of the scene behind us. They looked terrified, as they should’ve been. I was fighting to hold it together myself. Anyone in their right mind would be scared.
“We need to find high ground.” Clyde wasn't paralyzed by fear. No, sir, he was Clyde Salmons: Master of the Apocalypse. Survivor. The man with the never-ending plan. He was ready, for what, he didn't know, but the readiness was there and ready.
“You see anything?” Mom was hunched over the wheel, disobeying every and all traffic rule ever invented, except for seatbelts and good ol’ ten and two.
The windshield wipers were set at maximum, even with the rain letting up.
“There!” Clyde yelled, “Looks like a school. It's a couple stories. Take the next right.”
Clyde made the call of where we would go, which was fine by me. I didn't need that responsibility in my life at this second. I slipped my backpack over my wet clothes that I didn't have enough sense to change out of when I had the time. I thought that there would be more time, but apparently I didn't have that luxury.
My mom made a drastic ninety-degree turn to the right, and I was momentarily thrown forward.
Ouch.
The silhouette of the three story building loomed against the barely lit sky. Light faded quickly. We couldn't get caught outside at dark, with a horde on our tails, but it looked like we didn't have much choice.
I unzipped my pack as Mom zoomed down the street of the school, putting a ton of distance between us and the horde, thank god. I dumped some stuff into my pack that was laying around in the trunk. Some water, duct tape, a tiny first-aid kit, and some Gold Fish, all of which would undoubtedly get crushed in my backpack, but I had a bad feeling in my chest about whether or not we’d be driving this Jeep again.
Clyde and Mom discussed what to do, and I felt like I was being split in two. On one hand, I didn't want the pressure of making a decision right now, but on the other hand, I didn't know why I wasn't being treated like an adult. I was momentarily frustrated at everyone, but mostly myself. Why couldn't I think of anything? Why wasn't I a part of this whole plan making process? I'm her daughter after all…
“Those windows. We’ll get in from there. Kill the lights.”
Clyde sounded like a soldier. Was he one? Before all of this? He looked too young, but what do I know. Not his age, that's what.
From what I put together from Mom and Clyde’s nonsense, we would be entering the school through the windows, and making our way as high as we could. Without dying, of course.
That was pretty important.
Mom parked under the previously selected windows like a pro, and most importantly, didn't make the brakes squeal when she stopped the car, like I'd done with mine. Once upon a time I had a car, but that hunk of metal was back in Indiana. It's name was Kenny.
The sunroof was opened, and Soldier Boy Clyde pulled himself up and out onto the roof. We had managed to gain some distance, but the Crazies were nearing.
I could hear Clyde’s feet shuffling on the roof and the shattering of glass above. The shards rained down and got onto and into the car.
It was the loudest thing for miles.
I'm pretty sure he jumped into the window, because the next thing I heard was the southern voice say, “Okay, send them up.”
The twins climbed out, helping each other with every step. They were short, even for being eleven, almost twelve.
I then realized that I would need to get from the trunk to the backseat, up
through the roof, and through a window god knows how far above me. I tried to move my legs and went cold. They were stiff as hardening concrete and the movement was really, really painful.
Then, Mom went up. Just like that. Leaving me alone, probably thinking that I’d be right behind her and possibly forgetting about my legs, or not knowing they were that bad. Her concern was probably on the twins.
Had I even told anyone how much they hurt?
I was alone. The Crazies were coming. I needed to move. Now.
But all I managed was the bending of one leg. I heard Mom jump off the roof and knew that I was really alone.
Why didn't she stay? Why didn't I speak up? Why was she treating me like an adult now?
Even though the lights were out and the sun had set, I saw the silhouette of a Crazy in the entrance of the school’s driveway, it's nose in the air, slowly turning left and right, waiting for me to make a mistake. Well, it wouldn't have to wait long.
“Ah!”
I couldn't stop the quiet cry of pain even if my life depended on it, which, in this situation, it did. I bent my legs and outstretched my arms as I crawled through the Jeep, making as little noise as I could, but that was still too much.
Clyde whisper-yelled my name from above, probably wondering why the hell I wasn't on the roof by now. I was breathing through clenched teeth again.
Hurry up, Ophelia!
The Crazy was a stupid one, thankfully, and couldn't hear all of our ruckus over the shrieks and roars of the others. Another one joined him as I reached the space below the sunroof and grabbed the wet edges of it, ready to pull myself up. Only, as I’d learned previously today, I didn't have much upper body strength, so I would have to rely on my legs. My very stiff and bruised legs.
“Ophelia! Hurry up!” Soldier boy was starting to get on my nerves.
“Shut up Clyde! I'm trying!”
I could do this. I had to do this. I had to get onto the roof of this car. If I didn’t, I would most definitely die. And death isn't something I wanted to do right now. Maybe some other time.
So suck it up, Ophelia. Just get through this. Just do it! Now!
“Ah!”
It hurt. It hurt a lot.
But making noise only made the pain that much worse, especially when I looked up and saw the two Crazies, now joined by a third, looking straight at me.
My blood froze in my veins right there and then.
With great difficulty, I found myself on the roof, out of breath and on the verge of tears. But there was no time for tears. The nearby Crazies had now categorized me as a meal and were shrieking and running towards me in the stupid way they did. I had twenty seconds, twenty-five tops before they were on me. I looked ahead for Clyde, but only found him after I looked up, where he was leaning out of a window about three feet above my head, arms outstretched.
Crap.
“How the hell did you get up there?” I whispered, my words rushed.
As I asked, I stretched my free hand up to try and reach his fingers, but they didn't even brush. Great. Killed by shortness.
For a moment, I was too stunned at the situation and the task ahead to move, but then I looked back. They were close and growing in numbers and volume. Ten seconds.
“I jumped, which is what you're gonna have to do. Throw your bat up and jump, Ophelia! Come on!”
I couldn't process anything— the closeness of the infected, the pain in my legs, the fear in my heart. So I trusted him. I chucked my bat up through the open space of the window next to him, and jumped.
Clyde caught my wrists, his cold fingers stopped my body from falling, and prevented gravity from doing what it did best. He was halfway out of the window to compensate for my poor jump.
Even though I started slowly rising, I still wasn't high enough to avoid the first Crazy that wedged itself between the wall of the school and the Jeep, and grabbed hold of my boot.
I screamed, and kicked my foot out, but the Crazy only sunk its claws into more of it, dragging me down and putting Clyde’s strength to the test. I felt pain and panic. The panic was from the pain.
If I'm feeling pain, then… no. No, it didn't break the skin. It couldn't have. I have a boot and, like, two pairs of socks on. I think. It couldn't have…
I looked from the naked Crazy back to Clyde, who was looking worse than I was, his face straining as he struggled to hold on to me.
“Don't let me go Clyde! Don't you do it!”
I thought about the movies, where the group or a member of the group decided to sacrifice someone to further their survival.
Well, that wasn't going to happen to me.
My foot was now being pulled and clawed at by the talons of two naked Crazies with pale, almost translucent skin, with nonstop roars coming out of their mouth should. Loud, terrifying, unending roars that I never wanted to be this close to ever again.
Wait.
I had an idea.
“Clyde! Let go of my hand!”
It was all he could do to keep me from falling. There was no hope of pulling me up with the rest of this dead weight.
“Are you crazy? You'll fall!” He shouted over the distant roars and stamped of Crazies.
It looked like the horde we’d ditched was no longer ditched.
There was the sound of something breaking from the room Clyde was half-in, half-out of, and one of twins screamed.
“Just one of them, you idiot!” I yelled. “Hurry!”
In some lapse of both of our sanities, he trusted me and did what I said, and now I was dangling from certain death by only one arm, instead of two.
I kept kicking my free foot, hoping it would stay out of range while I dug my hand in my pocket, and pulled out the gun I’d never intended on using.
Then I aimed, and pulled the trigger.
But, of course, instead of shooting a bullet through the skull of one of the Crazies and saving my life, the stupid thing didn’t even move. The trigger was stuck.
“The safety, Ophelia! The safety!”
I was slipping because of my damn sweaty and soaked hands, and if Clyde were to hang any further out the window, he’d be joining me in the fight against all of these particularly loud Crazies.
I clicked (or unclicked?) the safety button and pulled the trigger, only kinda sure that my aim would hit the infected instead of the Jeep, or even worse, my foot.
Boom!
I couldn't see exactly where I’d hit it. It could've been by its ear or a bullseye right between the eyes, but the point was that I hit it. Its body slammed into the Jeep with a thud. I then kicked the second one with my now-free foot. Its head snapped back, but it was far from dead. With my legs now free, Clyde was able to pull me up through the window.
We collapsed on top of each other, him far more out of breath than I was, my face wetter than his, and it wasn't because of the rain.
Why did I sweat so much?
He quickly rolled off of me, and grabbed his shovel. There was crashing from the other side of the room— a fight. Some shrieking— a fight with a Crazy.
I stood and wiped the sweat and tears out of my eyes (but if anyone were to ask, it was all just rain).
Adrenaline, don't fail me now.
In the dark, I stumbled around to find my bat and hit my hip on the sharp corner of a low filing cabinet. I looked around the room, which was an office, probably the main one. Lucky and Vi were hiding under a desk against a counter between me and the door, with the opening in my direction. They looked like scared wet rats, huddled together with young, wide eyes staring at me.
My foot kicked something that felt and sounded suspiciously like my bat, and it rolled over to where the twins were. I wobbled over to them, and Luck picked it up and handed it to me. Just as I took it, a wooden door to my left burst open, and a fast one came running out, the moonlight reflecting off its string of drool and bloody skull. Lovely.
I gripped the wet bat with two hands, brought the it up to my shoulder, and jabbed it forward at t
he right moment, stopping it permanently. It was actually pretty cool, because I didn't really think that move would work. I was pretty sure that I would miss, actually.
My Crazy wasn't the only one that dropped. I looked up to where the second thud came from, and found Clyde standing over a limp one, bloody shovel in hand.
I heard more splintering wood, and we both looked to the right, where a door was giving way, my mother's body pushing against it being the only thing keeping the outside Crazies out. But it wouldn't be for long, not with the poor integrity of the old door.
Double crap.
What's happening? The door was about to break.
What needed to happen? We need to prevent those Crazies from coming in, and, you know, possibly get out of this mess, alive.
How could we do that?
There was the room that my Crazy just burst out of to the left, but I didn't like the idea of trapping us in an even smaller room with less escape options. The windows were a definite no, the constant roar outside being evidence of that.
We would need to keep that door shut. That's the only option I could see that would work.
I looked around to see what I could use so that my mother could be relieved from door blocking duty, and spotted just the thing. A huge, wooden floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. Sturdy, solid, and heavy— perfect for keeping out the undead.
Clyde seemed to have the same idea, and we both took off towards the bookshelf. I wondered if I'd ever be ahead of him with this whole idea thing.
Eh, doesn't matter.
Or does it?
“O! Help me with this thing!”
Curses. Foiled again by my own tendency to get distracted and my own idiocy. Great.
The shelf was heavy. So heavy. Even with soldier boy struggling next to me. We started tilting it, only for the corner of it to get caught on the ceiling, the type of ceiling where you can push the tiles up if you were tall enough. The bar between the tiles was what hindered our very important progress.
