by A. M. Geever
The rest of the intruders were down and not moving. Mario crashed through the brush to his teammate whose name he didn’t even know. He tripped and fell flat on his face. He heard a groan. He had tripped over him! Mario scrambled up.
“How bad are you hit?”
A gurgling groan. Mario flicked on his tiny red flashlight, the kind that didn’t mess up your night vision. Gunfire had ripped the guy’s throat to shreds. Someone else moved through the brush toward them. Mario checked the man’s pupils. They were dilated and fixed. He wasn’t breathing.
Mario heard Skye’s voice. “Is he okay?”
“He’s dead.”
“Cindy and Michael have left to sweep the Boys’ Home. We need to go.”
Blood pounded in Mario’s ears as they ran for the Big Woods. His anger burned as bright as the fire still visible on the wood’s far side. He hated this shit. People murdered, and no time to even close their goddamned eyes. Just leave the bodies behind because another threat had to be dealt with. These assholes would pay. If it was the last thing he did, they would pay. They ran along the row of houses abutting the strip of woods, then burst into the open of the swampy marsh on either side of the creek. They splashed through the creek and approached the edge of the Big Woods.
“If we go in here, we can catch the Ponderosa Loop. It’s the quickest route to the Na—”
Skye’s words were cut short by a burst of gunfire in the woods to the immediate northeast. They dropped to the ground. There were small bursts of light from more gunfire, then yet another burst farther away, then another. They had stumbled on a gunfight, with no way to tell which side was which.
“That’s where we need to go,” Skye said, her frustration palpable. She thought a moment, then said, “We’ll follow the creek. We can catch another loop ahead. It’s close. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll go to the next one.”
They edged away from the woods into the marsh and took off running to the west. The swampy marshland sucked at Mario’s boots. The muck sticking to them weighed his feet down, making the burn of his leg muscles more intense. A few minutes later, Skye slowed, then stopped. She motioned for Mario to follow her as she crept to the tree line. Then they crouched low and waited. And waited. And waited, until Mario wanted to scream. In reality, it was one minute, maybe, but all Mario could think of was where the threat would come from next, who was in danger, and where was Miranda?
Skye said, “Okay, let’s go.”
Two steps into the woods and he knew why they were not cutting through them. The footing was treacherous. Fallen logs were everywhere. Trees so thick you had to squeeze between them because the other directions offer no better progress. Jaggy bushes, thick with thorns that dug into his flesh. Mario skimmed the ground with his lead foot because taking an actual step in the dark was too dangerous.
They stumbled onto the path.
“Left,” Skye said.
They ran side by side. The trail was a shade lighter than the forest around it. At the first convergence with another trail, they turned left. At the next, Skye stopped. Gunfire echoed in the woods.
“If we go right, we’ll hit Vine Maple Trail. It goes straight to the Nature Center, but…”
“It goes straight to the Nature Center. I know that path,” he said. “How far out of the way does the other one take us?”
“All the way to the north end, by the Comm Shack.”
Another explosion caused the ground under them to shake. Mario looked east. More yellow and orange flames leaped to the sky in the vicinity of the Nature Center.
“Fuck it,” Mario said. “Let’s just go.”
When they reached Vine Maple Trail, they turned east. Rounding the last bend, Mario shielded his eyes from the flames engulfing the Nature Center. Bodies lay on the ground. A running gun battle was taking place in the parking lot in front of the burning building. On this side of the burning building, figures darted from one point of cover—a bench, a trash can, a vehicle—to another. Some darted out to drag the wounded to cover. A few wandered, clearly dazed and shell-shocked.
They continued down the path, more cautious than ever. Mario stopped when he heard a grunt ahead, then saw two people farther down the path struggling with one another. One was larger, but the smaller of the two was holding their own. The smaller person turned, her silhouette cast in profile by the raging fire.
“That’s Anna,” Skye said, taking off.
Anna called out, “It’s a zombie!”
They rushed to LO’s commander. The zombie had her by the shoulders. Its snapping teeth were held back only by the commander’s elbow, which she had managed to wedge against the zombie’s cheek. It turned the zombie’s face away, but Mario could see that Anna was tiring. The zombie wouldn’t.
Skye’s arm flashed forward, the arc of her raised knife slicing down for the zombie’s neck. Then Anna lost her footing. She fell backward, pulling the zombie with her.
Anna and the zombie thrashed on the ground. Mario grabbed a handful of the zombie’s hair, yanking its head back. Skye raised her knife again. But instead of staying intent on the commander, the zombie pushed itself up at Mario. Mario had just enough time to get his arm up to block. He heard the rip of fabric, then felt the sharp bite and sinking tear of teeth.
Skye dove after them, finally able to drive her knife into the vertebrae connecting the base of the zombie’s skull with the neck. The zombie collapsed, its teeth releasing Mario’s arm.
“Are you bitten?” Skye asked, horror in her voice.
“I’ve been vaccinated, I’m fine,” he said, brushing her concern aside. He felt blood trickling down his arm. The pain from the bite throbbed in time with his heart.
They knelt beside Anna, who had pushed herself to sitting. She held a hand to her side.
“Anna, are you okay?” Skye asked.
The commander looked up at Skye and Mario. She faced the fire at the Nature Center. Anger filled her brown eyes.
“I’ve been bitten,” she said. “But we don’t have time for that. We have to repel this attack.”
Two minutes later, Mario’s arm hastily bandaged and Anna’s arm draped over his shoulder, they had abandoned a stealthy approach. They stood just inside the edge of the Big Woods. The long, rectangular building across the wide sidewalk from the Nature Center was still intact. They darted behind it at the narrow end. A head popped around the other sheltered corner.
“Skye?”
“River?” Skye said. “The commander’s hurt.”
“This way,” River said, motioning for them to follow her behind the building.
When they rounded the corner, Mario saw a large group of people huddled alongside it.
“Anna, sit down here, and I’ll take a look,” River said.
Anna shook her head. “No, I’ve got to organize—”
“Rich is already doing it,” River said, pointing to the small group gathered at the other end of the building. “Sit. Now.”
Mario recognized Rich’s soft drawl as he and Skye drew near. Rich had driven back to LO with him earlier in the day. Mario was glad he was here.
“Everyone understand?” Rich asked.
“What’s the plan, Rich?” he asked.
“James? Glad to see you.” He pointed to the parking lot. “Some of them are pinned down in the parking lot. We’re circling around to flank them. Once they’re dealt with, we’ll do the same at the main gate if we need to.”
“We just ran into a zombie on the path by the Nature Center,” said Skye.
“Yeah, we know there are some inside,” Rich said. “I think they brought them.”
“We need to capture at least some of the intruders alive,” Mario said. “We need to know who these people are.”
“We’ll give them a chance to surrender, but if they’re not interested…”
Mario nodded, not encouraged by Rich’s attitude. But he knew what it was like to have your home and the safety of your loved ones threatened.
“Ok
ay,” Rich said. “Let’s move out.”
“Rich, one sec,” Skye said. She motioned Rich to her, then pulled him aside. “Anna’s been bitten. I thought you should know.”
Rich’s face went slack with shock for a moment. But when he spoke, his voice was deadly. “Let’s get these assholes.”
“Don’t let your temper get the better of you,” Mario said.
“Don’t you worry about that,” Rich said bitterly. “I could use more people on the other side of the Nature Center. You two up for going around on the Big Woods side so we can catch them in a pincer? I want to know who these people are so we can pay them a visit.”
37
Larry tried the truck again. The engine sputtered, sounding like it wanted to start, then gave up the ghost.
“Piece of crap,” Rocco muttered under his breath.
Doug looked at Miranda. Delilah was already in the bed of the truck, looking at him anxiously as if to say, ‘What are you stupid humans waiting for?’ Doug’s own anxiety rose with every passing second. The truck would not start, no matter how Rocco tinkered with it. Twilight was rapidly ceding its grip, nightfall almost upon them. Around them, the moans of zombies grew louder.
“We have to get out of here,” Doug said.
Over the tops of the row of bushes and trees the pickup was parked behind came another flash of light, followed by a rumble and a crack. They scrambled through the tree line to the comparatively clearer space of the old road. Another fireball billowed into the sky above LO.
“What is going on there?” Larry said.
Doug watched the flames and smoke, his heart contracting. He felt helpless, not knowing what terrible events were unfolding at LO, or if Skye was safe.
“We’ve gotta go,” Miranda said.
“I know, let me think,” Rocco said, distress constricting his voice. “There’s another vehicle in a stash house, but it’s a half a mile north of here.”
“That’s the wrong direction,” Larry said. “That’s into where the zombies are coming from.”
“Tell me something I don’t know, Larry,” Rocco snapped. He jumped into the bed of the truck and squinted, looking north. “I don’t think we can fall back to the Institute. It takes us away from LO, and if we get cut off, we’re screwed.” Then he added, more to himself than the others, “And Tucci can’t limp along fast enough.”
“I can,” Miranda said, standing. “Rocco, I’ll be fine if I can’t keep up. Let’s just go.”
“How will you be fine?” Larry asked, turning to Miranda.
“Doesn’t matter,” Miranda said.
Doug said, “The zombies will be inside the perimeter of the next Station House over soon. They’re going to cut us off if we wait any longer. It won’t get more clear between here and LO than it is right now.”
Fifteen minutes later, the smell hit them. Doug gagged as soon as the wind changed direction, blowing from the northeast.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he said, his eyes beginning to water. The pace they had set was punishing. Doug had worried at first that Miranda and Larry might not be able to keep up, but he needn’t have. Imminent death had a way of motivating people.
“We should get up high. See what we’re up against,” Larry said.
“We won’t be able to see anything,” Doug panted. It was deep twilight and would soon be dark. “Let’s just keep going.”
“We need to know what’s going on,” Rocco said. “The Costco is just ahead.”
“A Costco,” Doug asked. “Really?”
He had participated in his fair share of end-of-the-world clichés, including raiding two of the three Costcos in San Jose. It had been a great stroke of luck that one of them was technically in Santa Clara, just minutes from SCU’s campus. LO must have set this one up as a bolt hole because there was no way it had anything of value left.
A thousand feet later, Rocco and Larry veered off the road. Thanks to the parking lots surrounding the Costco, as soon as they got through the trees lining the road, it was a lot easier to see. The white-and-red canopy of Costco’s gas pumps, falling apart and rusted in place, stood sentry over the scrub and small trees that had broken through the weathered asphalt.
Doug put on his headlamp, as did the others. The groans of the zombies were louder nearer to the warehouse. When they reached the Tire Center, Rocco walked to one of the roller doors at a car bay and felt along the wall. A moment later, he came back with a key.
“We should be doing a walk around the building to make sure no one has broken in,” Rocco muttered, then opened the door.
“Let Liley in first,” Miranda said. “She’ll bark if there’s anything.”
Rocco did, and when there were no barks, they entered. The slightly unpleasant scent of rubber tires, still on the display racks, filled Doug’s nose as he pulled and locked the door behind him.
Doug took Miranda’s arm, since she was limping pretty badly. “How’s your butt?”
“How do you think?”
Delilah walked beside them, panting, two inches of pink tongue hanging out of her mouth. They followed Larry and Rocco on a labyrinthine path that Doug would be hard-pressed to retrace, but then Larry pointed out the arrows in yellow tape on the floor. They reached a set of utilitarian stairs.
Miranda said, “I’m going to wait for you here.”
“You sure?” Rocco asked.
“Yeah,” she said, leaning against the railing. “I’ve got Liley. Go.”
Doug gave her arm a squeeze. “Be right back.”
They left Miranda behind and climbed, their footsteps echoing through the dark warehouse. He heard the clunk as Rocco opened the door to the roof. Doug caught the door’s weight from Larry as he walked through. They trotted over the roof, which was in surprisingly good shape. To Doug’s right on the south side, he could see LO, only a quarter of a mile away. A huge fire raged on LO’s eastern edge—probably the Nature Center. Underneath the noise of the inferno, Doug could hear the call and response of gunfire.
“Jesus,” Larry said, sounding stunned.
Doug found the evidence of his eyes hard to believe. It was so different here than San Jose. People got along, worked together. Who would do this?
Doug squinted at the main entrance, a few hundred feet due east of the Nature Center. It was hard to see into LO, since the area was pretty flat, and the Costco was not very high. But enough light from the fire illuminated the main entrance. What he thought he saw hit Doug like a punch to the gut.
“Is the drawbridge down?”
“Holy shit,” Larry said.
“Who would do that?” Rocco whispered, sounding like he wanted to murder someone.
Doug tore himself away and ran to the east side of the building’s roof. His heart sank. A dark mass of zombies headed this way—thousands of them. The edge of the massive horde was already well inside the perimeter of the Station Houses. It would be safe to assume that some of the horde had gone south. They might already be cut off by zombies on the ground that they couldn’t see in the darkness.
“Rocco,” he called, running back to them. “There’s a huge horde coming. We gotta go.”
Larry said, “I don’t think we’re going to make it.”
“I’m going,” Doug said.
Rocco turned to Larry. “Stay here. You know where the supply stash is, and there’s a radio. In case we don’t make it.”
Larry’s protest was instantaneous. “No!”
Rocco shook his head. “If we’re killed, you can at least tell them what happened at the Station House we checked. They’ll need to know. Tucci can stay with you.”
“She won’t,” Doug said.
“I’m not either, then,” Larry said.
“We need you to get the sound defenses back up, Larry,” Rocco said. “You know that stuff better than anyone. Please, stay here.”
“I can’t do nothing,” Larry protested.
“You won’t be,” Rocco said. “We need you later, alive. But if we don�
�t get the drawbridge up, there won’t be anything to save.”
Within minutes of leaving the Costco, Doug realized it was far worse on the ground than it had seemed from the warehouse’s roof. LO was a quarter of a mile south of Costco as the crow flies, but it was a mile to the main entrance on LO’s east side. They ran flat-out instead of huddling close to Miranda to be protected by her repellent effect because doing that would be too slow. The drawbridge into LO was down, and they had to get it up. Otherwise the settlement might be overrun. If it got bad enough that they needed Miranda to protect them, they were probably too late to save LO anyway.
Delilah had quit barking at zombies in favor of running. At first Doug had worried about Miranda, but the bullet must have grazed her because she kept up. He could see that it hurt, but stubborn as always, she refused to let it interfere with what she had set out to do. Ahead, Doug saw a field of spring crops trampled under zombies’ dragging feet. The discordant symphony of the moans, the reek of rotten bodies, burned itself into Doug’s eardrums and sinuses.
He was not getting the familiar thrill underneath the fear when it was life or death like he usually did. But ‘people to live for’ wasn’t as abstract a concept since Skye.
Ahead on the right he saw a gap across the parking lot between the huge office buildings on either end of this stretch of road. If they took it, they could break away from the zombies coming from the east and run along the railroad tracks all the way to the gate.
“Rocco! Miranda!”
“I see it,” Rocco said.
Miranda only grunted.
They pivoted toward the gap, Delilah ahead of them, having already identified their escape route on her own. Zombies tripped, limped, and swayed around them. Every zombie within fifty feet changed direction when they saw the trio. Doug darted to the right to avoid a zombie, then sprawled on the ground. He looked up, pebbles and grit ground into the skin of his chin. He had tripped over a zombie, one so old and worn that it seemed to have just collapsed. It writhed but could not lift its arms to grab him. Miranda had turned his direction as he scrambled to his feet, adrenaline pounding through his veins. And then he was down on the ground again, flat on his back, a bolt of pain igniting his arm like a firecracker. Snapping teeth were just inches from his face.
