Grabbing the M4 in both hands, I bear-crawled the rifle up the zombie’s chest. When it was close enough, I shoved the steel under barrel against the zombie’s nasal cavity and put my whole weight against it. I heard the meaty sound of skin splitting open and the zombie’s jaw cracked, then broke apart as I felt something give. The rifle sank into its skull and landed with a squish, the top half of its head rolling to the side like a cup of brain soup. Truthfully, I’ve seen and done a lot, but that was fucking disgusting.
Moving away and throwing up, I wanted to get the hell out of there, but one question still lingered. Knowing it would bother me forever if I just left, I held my breath and studied the bodies. The similarities to something before were eerie, and it wasn’t until I noticed their mouths that it clicked. The reason I hadn’t been bitten wasn’t from luck, but from their lips being sewn shut. Remembering back to the shack, I looked at the sealed tent and the realization was chilling.
The truckers were dangerous, but only for survival, or even resources. This had been done by another group, one much worse and deadly. They were armed, they were ruthless, and I was heading right for them.
Chapter 68
After burning the corpses and leaving the checkpoint, I let the air clear my head as I drove. So many questions went through my brain, like, was I going to come head to head with a group that believed in sewing zombies’ mouths shut and leaving them for someone to find? Was this the same group that the “Stay off the road” billboard referred to, or had that been the truckers? Was I ever going to eat again after having my face mere inches from zombie slop?
With the sun dragging lower across the horizon, I realized I must have been driving for a few hours and knew I should decide then whether to drive through the night or look for shelter. I had made it into Kentucky by that point, checking the map to find where I was. It wouldn’t be much longer before I would have to find an actual road map, as Indiana’s map only showed a small part into Kentucky, but I knew I was still on I-75. However, wanting to avoid Frankfort and Lexington’s populations and possible armed raiders, I could sweep around through Florence.
It wasn’t long after I put up the soon-to-be useless map and started driving that rain began to pour, washing over my car in waves and dragging visibility down to nothing. Being in Kentucky, I was surrounded by mountains and had nowhere to pull off, which left me two options. I could either park on the road and hope no one hostile came through here, or I could reduce my speed and keep going.
Since recent events had shown me that I wasn’t alone on the road, I chose the latter option and continued driving. The front of my car bumped into something and I squinted my eyes to make out what it was. I couldn’t tell much, but it was definitely a car, so I reversed a few feet and pulled around it.
The weather was getting worse as darkness started to creep in, the temperature drop causing the water on my side windows to ice over. Still, I was making progress and I had only hit three vehicles. I know that sounded like a lot, but you don’t know how packed this damn road was. There were so many abandoned vehicles, I was just proud that I could count the number on one hand.
Up ahead, I could see something large and I leaned in close to the windshield to make it out. It was a mobile home, but it was cocked so its back end took up some of the second lane. There must have been a wreck, which explained why there were so many cars before. The driver of the mobile home probably had to stop suddenly, and I was proud of my detective work, but that didn’t help me get around it any easier.
Taking it as carefully as possible, I crept the front of my car around the home and my front end had just cleared it when the sedan bumped into something else. I leaned over to the middle of the seats and peered through the windshield, not seeing any vehicles ahead of me.
It was at that point that the zombie decided to jump onto my hood, scaring the shit out of me, and I saw why my car jerked. I forgot that just because I couldn’t see and had to move slower, not everyone out here was affected by the weather. The better word was everything, I reminded myself, as I stared at the horde that I had somehow stumbled across. I couldn’t see any specifics, just one blurry, moving blob of gray, decaying flesh and colored shirts that intermittently became clear with my wipers.
Two zombies slapped at my driver-side window, but I ignored them and stayed focused on caution. I was on a curve that dropped off to the right, so one wrong move and I was on an unwanted rollercoaster ride. With that terrifying image in my head, I pulled forward and felt my tires crunch over a few unwanted guests, losing traction in my tires. My sedan was almost clear of the mobile home when more zombies began to smack against the windows, surrounding me on all sides, and I heard glass crack. Looking to my right, I noticed the passenger window starting to splinter, weakened from the ice.
“Shit.”
Something banged against the window behind me and I turned, stepping on the gas pedal as I did. Several zombies bounced off my front bumper and the car lurched, causing three bodies to slide over the hood and smash into my windshield. One crashed through and embedded itself in the glass, one arm stuck outside the car as it gnashed its teeth together.
Now unable to see out the front and surrounded, I gripped the wheel tightly and tried to angle the car left, but I couldn’t tell where the road was at that point and the tires were barely responding. In my peripheral vision, I noticed something dark getting closer and ducked to my right just as the driver-side window shattered, sending glass into the car.
“Dammit!” The zombie tore at my shirt, trying to find something to sink its teeth into, and I couldn’t get my left hand on the steering wheel with the windshield zombie gnawing at me. Feeling the car pull to the right as more zombies added their weight to the mix, I managed to get my left foot against the door and shove, slamming it open and sending the zombie flying onto the road.
I hurried to pull the door shut and sit up, regaining my grip on the wheel, but I felt my stomach rise as the weight in the car shifted. Looking through the shattered window to my right, I saw the world flip over before it all went dark.
Chapter 69
I was seriously considering never driving again, because it seemed to always end up the same way. Rather than waking up sideways, though, I was inverted with blood rushing to my head. Bracing against the roof, I undid my seat belt and landed with my knees on the crushed metal. My vision went dark and my head spun from the sudden movement, so I gave my senses a minute to recalibrate before attempting to get out.
Checking my gear to make sure I hadn’t lost anything this time, I felt around for the door handle and pushed. Climbing out wasn’t as hard when your car isn’t kissing pavement, but the car itself was pretty beat up, so it took some force to push open the door. Of course, the car was mangled against a tree so I still had one hell of an incline to walk down.
Looking back at the sedan, I thanked my lucky stars to walk away. The top was dented in, the back window completely crushed down against the trunk of the tree. If I had landed in reverse, I’d have been a pancake. Trying to keep my thoughts positive, I started off on foot once more.
Between the freezing wind and being drenched by icy rain, I really regretted not having boots as I worked my way deeper into the forest. If it hadn’t been for my training, I could have easily gotten lost and, while I honestly didn’t know the area, I knew I was still heading away from my crash. When you’re on foot, you’re more likely to angle in the direction of your dominant side, going in a circle before you realize you’ve wasted valuable time and energy. I definitely didn’t have any to lose, as I had lost feeling in my hands and feet a while ago and I could feel the cold seeping through my clothes. The fact that it was getting so dark and I could barely see also played a factor. Hypothetically, I may have walked into a few trees, but we’ll keep that between us.
Knowing I needed to get inside fast, I kept my eyes open for shelter. Seriously, I would have settled for anything at that point. I still had the lighter, so if all else I could t
ry to build something makeshift and work on a fire, but I really didn’t want to have to resort to that. By the time I found a suitable location and got it done, I would have more frost on me than the time I left a Chinese dinner in the freezer for a year. By the way, don’t do that.
Wiping pieces of ice from the front of my coat, I was about to give in when I spotted a small log cabin in the distance. I used the trees as cover, working my way closer to get a better view. Snow was piled around and on the cabin, the windows were frosted over with ice, and there was no sign of activity, so I decided to go inside. Even if there were someone, I would find a way to reason with them if it meant getting out of this cold.
With my M4 at the ready, I walked up the stairs to the porch and checked the door. It was locked, so I stepped to the side and knocked. After waiting for another minute and hearing nothing within, I took a step back and kicked in the door. It swung inward, the hinges squealing in protest, and I moved in, checking the corners and finding no one. The fireplace hadn’t been used in a long time, furthering my belief that I was alone in the cabin. In an effort to save the fuel in my lighter and maintain stealth, I strained my eyes to see and moved into the kitchen. It was more of the same emptiness, as was the bathroom. Family pictures and notes on a calendar told me this had once been a place of happiness, but no one had set foot in this house for a long time as I wiped my finger across a dust-covered table.
The last room down the hall had the door closed and I could hear the howl of wind from beyond. Hoping not to relive the scenario from the military checkpoint, I kicked in the door and shifted toward the source of the breeze. A man was awkwardly standing at the broken bedroom window, his back to me, a picture frame clutched in his hand. When he didn’t flinch at my entrance, I knew something was wrong. Hesitantly, I moved up and placed my hand on his shoulder, keeping my rifle trained on his head.
He jerked at my touch and I heard an all-too-familiar moan gurgle out of his throat, but he didn’t turn to try and bite me. Stepping to the side, I saw why, as his neck was halfway impaled on the glass. Glancing down, the picture was of him and a woman, both smiling, both happy. The man must have known he was going to turn, shut himself inside the room, and tried to commit suicide. Unfortunately, he probably bled out before he could completely decapitate himself on the broken window, cutting his desperate attempt short. I briefly wondered if the woman from the picture was still alive, if he had sent her away to avoid seeing him become a monster, before I was interrupted.
“How long will it be before you have to make that decision, Eric?” Her voice came from behind me.
“Not now, Samantha. Please.” I turned to find myself alone in the room, with only the choking sound of loneliness and the wind to cut through the silence.
“I’m sorry, man.” I let the M4 fall to my chest and pulled out the Sig, knowing it was technically a waste of a bullet but not caring. This man deserved it after trying so hard, so I squeezed the trigger and finished what he started. Too many people were dead or dying, and I could feel it wearing on me like a weight around my neck. How much longer could I hold myself up?
Chapter 70
Unknown date +12
I’ve been in the cabin now for two days, writing this with the warmth of a crackling fire across from me. The first day was spent burying the dead, locking the bedroom door, and gathering wood for a fire. I didn’t stray too far from the cabin, trying to avoid leaving tracks just in case. There hadn’t been much activity nearby since I arrived, but I didn’t want to take any chances.
After working up a good flame in the fireplace, I took off my clothes and laid them in front of it to let them dry. I ate a good meal that night, opening a can of beef stew and being able to actually sit and relax, despite that being my last can of stew and finding none in the cabin. I felt the heat of the fire all the way down to my bones and just breathed it all in, enjoying my last night under this roof.
The next day, having slept several hours, I dressed and checked one last time for anything useful. I found a knife sharpener, which I used it to make sure my Ka-bar was in prime condition, and a heavier coat in the closet that was a little short on me. I draped it over my clothes anyway, knowing I would need it when I ventured out again.
The weather had become colder, which was better in some ways. There was no longer icy rain or sleet, the stuff I hated because it just seemed to get under your clothes no matter what you wore. No, it was full-on snow now, with the temperature dropping further and covering the scenery in a blanket of white.
Maybe it had been the lack of sleep all along, but I hadn’t seen or heard Samantha since the first night I got here. It gave me hope that I wasn’t too far gone, but there was also that part of me that was waiting for her next grand entrance. She had always known just what to say to make me feel like shit when we argued, and that hadn’t changed with her death, apparently.
Having eaten a snack, I was ready to head out into the snow again when I heard gunshots. On reflex, I raised the M4 and aimed it toward the door. When nothing came through, I stacked up beside the entrance and cracked the door open. Another staccato of gunfire, more distant than the first, told me the firefight was moving away from me. I could head out, traverse the wintery forest, and avoid any further danger, but I had no idea which direction to head in or how soon I’d find another vehicle or shelter.
This left the option of investigating the gunfire and, hopefully, finding someone with a car so I could get back on the path to finding Kat. The thought of seeing Jessica again made me smile, too, which felt out of place after so much death. Steeling myself, I made my decision and started off toward the gunshots.
Just like my approach to the cabin, I used the trees as cover and worked my way closer to observe the situation better. Peering from behind a frost-covered bush, I could make out another cabin ahead. From my position, I couldn’t tell friend from foe, but a small group of men had surrounded the cabin and were raining down fire. Their aim was poor, as many shots went high, but bullets were bullets.
On the flip side, from what I could actually see, someone was standing just inside the door, trying to repel the men with timed shots, while another man inside popped up at a window on the left side to do the same. I could have been wrong, but I was guessing the men on the outside were in the wrong. Of course, the option to walk away was—
I heard a woman scream inside the cabin, followed by the distinct sound of a child crying.
—off the table, because I was about to get very involved. Say what you will about my actions during the apocalypse, but I still refused to walk away when a woman was in danger.
Working my way to the right, I released the M4 to hang from my neck and drew the Ka-bar from its sheath, angled down along my forearm. I circled around a larger tree and saw my first target, a six foot, one-eighty pound man, firing a bolt-action rifle. For a moment, I hesitated, wondering if I could possibly talk this man and his comrades down.
No, I thought to myself, you hesitate and people die. Sarge was right about that in Doom, even if he did become a villain. These men made their choice, whether out of desperation or not, to attack the cabin. The consequences of those actions were theirs to learn.
As the man lowered his rifle to reload, I moved in swiftly, flipping my grip on the knife as I did so. Wrapping my free hand around the man’s mouth, I pulled his head back and jammed the Ka-bar sideways into his throat, ripping it forward and tearing his vocal cords as he bled to death. I lowered him to the ground, his feet kicking at the snow, until he went limp. I made a mental note to strip the bodies of supplies later and jogged back into cover, returning my Ka-bar to its original position.
Keeping to the right, I found the next man, this one a heavy-set man with a camo vest over his plaid shirt, getting closer to the cabin. No one was defending this side, so he was trying to lift the window sill into what looked like a bathroom. Wasting no time, I ran toward him, knowing his ribcage was exposed and his weapon was down.
My shoe
s crunched in the snow and he turned just in time, my knife sliding into his gut.
“Ah, shit!” he yelped, blood spewing from his paunch. He grabbed my right arm with his left, jamming my hand against the grip of my knife, and his right fist swung toward my face. Unable to duck, I pushed my hand against his right bicep, stopping the punch, and slammed into him with my shoulder.
His back collided with the cabin and more blood spurted out, but we were still locked together as he fell to the ground. I brought my left knee up, ramming it into his other side, and he grabbed for my face. Cocking my neck and keeping my arms between us, I repeated the knee to his ribs three times before he put his right arm down to block my blows.
With my left arm now free, I pressed my forearm against his trachea and pushed my weight into it, pinning his head to the ground. Both of his hands came up to pull me off as he struggled to breathe, and I heard movement nearby, so I removed my Ka-bar from his gut and brought it down through his right eye. The man ceased to struggle and I rolled backward, bringing his torso with me as a shield.
Two bullets impacted his corpse, but I dropped my Ka-bar into the snow and brought up the M4 in one fluid motion as I leaned to the left. The noise of the scuffle must have alerted the man’s buddies, because they were moving in on my position.
There was one man directly in front of me, with another trying to flank me to the right. I fired a round and caught the one in front of me in the shin, his leg kicking back as bone split, and he yelled. With him distracted, I dealt with the other problem by shifting my aim around the corpse and sending two rounds into the ground where I had last seen the flanking man.
A Broken World (Book 2): Shattered Paradise Page 8
