by Fitch, E. M.
She followed them throughout the night, keeping the truck and riders on horseback in her line of sight as often as possible. It was soon too dark to see them. The last sight of her friends had been a dim outline, three figures knocking into each other, propped in the bed of the pick up truck, before the darkness swallowed them completely. Andrew and Bill had been gagged. Kaylee could just make out the filthy rags that stretched their lips. Anna had not been. They made her talk, repeat the same phrase over and over.
"Come on, pretty," the men snarled, "what'd we teach you?”
"The Squatters aren't allowed in the South," she'd repeat.
"That's right, girlie. You Squatters aren't allowed in the South.”
Anna had given up arguing that they had no idea what they were talking about. The men didn't believe her anyway.
They walked until Kaylee felt as though she may collapse. The only light came from the stars and the moon, but the overcast sky smudged it, nearly blotted it out. The men stopped, the truck idling on the side of the road before the engine cut completely. Kaylee heard the sloshing of a water canteen and felt a searing thirst rip through her. But she stayed quiet, crouched low against a tree.
The group had spread out, laying flat on their backs in the middle of the road, leaning up against the truck, one stretching out along the driver's seat and kicking off his boots. They landed on the empty street. Kaylee sucked in a sharp breath as a man walked a line straight towards her. She didn't think she had been seen; his gait was slow and casual, his arms swinging loose by his sides; but if he continued in this direction, she would be seen soon.
She crouched low and moved, her fingers pressing into wet leaves. She kept her eyes trained on him, a dark silhouette whistling lowly. She saw him turn to shout something back to the others on the road. She moved forward quickly, not caring where she went as long as it put a few trees between her and this man. Her foot caught and she plunged forward, her chin catching on something hard and knobby.
The smell alerted her before the rasping breaths. Sickening, like meat left out to rot, her stomach clenched and roiled in protest. The cluster of bodies she had fallen into didn't move when she landed on them. The flesh was cold and waxy, pulling from the bones in sagging heaps. The chests rattled as the lungs drew breath.
A pile of infected bodies, clothing rotting from their limbs, lay dormant in the darkness. Kaylee lay still, her cheek pressed to the cold soil below, the elbow of an infected man rammed against her throat. She felt their breaths shift her body and fought the urge to scream.
The man from the street stopped just feet away. If he saw her, he gave no indication. She heard the metallic bite of his zipper being lowered and the unmistakable sounds of urination followed by a soft sigh.
The bodies she lay amongst held no warmth. Their skin felt dead, rubbery and stiff. It didn't give the way normal skin did. Bones were prominent and poked from beneath their clothing. The air expelling from their lungs was foul. She pressed her nose to the dead foliage of the forest floor and inhaled sharply, grateful for the scent of natural decay that filled her nostrils.
The zipper sounded loud in the still night as the man adjusted himself. Something dropped with a dull thud and he muttered a soft curse. Kaylee spasmed when she heard the click of a flashlight behind her. Even through the tangle of graying limbs, she could see the soft glow of the flashlight circling on the forest floor just behind her. A low growl ripped through a chest, limbs tensing as they sensed the light.
Her mind screamed for him to turn it off. But it seemed to only brighten as he stepped closer to the pile of bodies.
Just by her hip, Kaylee heard teeth grinding together.
The man bent over, the light swinging back towards the road. "Gotcha," he muttered, his fingers rustling through the dead leaves. Moments later the flashlight clicked off and Kaylee heard the flick of a lighter followed by the acrid scent of tobacco. The infected bodies stilled, thrown back into lifelessness as the light faded away. Like children, dead to the world after lights out.
Kaylee felt her own breathing even out. The man walked away after a minute and she was able to carefully extract herself from the group of infected. In the moonlight, she examined them.
Three men, two women, and two children. She could only tell two were women based on their clothing. One wore a dress, the other had a string of pearls embedded in the mangled flesh of her neck. She sat at the base of the tree next to them. The men on the road quieted, settled in for the night. She hoped they would wake before dawn.
The group next to Kaylee in the forest definitely would.
She wondered if she should kill them.
When she lived in the firehouse, she watched the infected, her mother included, wander about all day long, beating into the sides of her home. She never contemplated killing them. It had seemed so wrong. They were people. Sick people. But still, people. And wasn't killing wrong?
She knew murder was wrong. But if it were self-defense? Jack had asked her that once. It wasn't wrong to kill someone who was trying to hurt you, even if they were out of their mind.
Her eyes drifted over the people lying beside her. They were no threat to her now. In a few hours, they would attempt to devour her; but now, they were harmless. Killing them wouldn't be self-defense.
But it might be merciful.
They sucked air in rasping breaths, their lungs struggling. Bones stuck through rotting skin at painful angles. These had been people once. Truly alive people. They probably had jobs and families, things they cared about. Now they were roving animals, hunting flesh in the woods.
She wouldn't want that for herself. She wouldn't want to be forced to wander, killing, eating raw flesh, and destroying everything around her. She would want to be put out of that misery.
It was with that thought that she dragged herself to a stand. She scanned the dark, forest floor, her eyes landing on a fallen branch. It had broken from the tree, leaving the end a jagged mess. It was solid and heavy in her hands. She positioned it like a spear, like the javelin she had once thrown for her school's track team. The tip was pointing down though, at the soft eye socket of the nearest infected. With a forceful jab, she pierced the branch through his eye, the wood shuddering to a stop when the point connected with the back of the skull. The man stopped breathing, his body shifting a bit as Kaylee drew the branch out. He didn't move other than that.
Before she lost her nerve, she killed the others laying in the pile. Soft shudders and sighing last breaths came after each piercing of the branch. When it was done, she tossed the wood aside, strode ten feet closer to the road, rest her back against a large tree, and closed her eyes.
Chapter Two
The night had been cold. Kaylee didn't sleep well. The men hadn't rested long, just a few hours. The rest of their trek was made quietly, shuffled footsteps in the dark.
Now Kaylee felt her eyelids drooping and she leant forward to rest her head against the cold side of a dark blue sedan. The clop of the horses hooves on the pavement died out as they were led around the side of the building. She heard the side door of the old Wal-Mart being wrenched open and the raucous greeting of another dozen men inside. She took a deep breath and looked down. Flakes of rust had settled on the pavement and the rain had battered it over the years into swirls of brown patterns against the gray concrete. It overlapped, like rings on a pond when a rock was skipped across the surface. She counted them, seven, eight, nine, taking a deep breath for each ring.
She had the gun she took from Emma. But she only had twelve bullets. She knew how to shoot it, anyone who had ever seen a movie understood that you pointed it away from yourself and pulled the trigger. But that was all she really knew. She found her palms itching for something else to grip. Her eyes followed the twisted lines of the cars, scanning backseats. She rose to peek into a trunk that hung open.
She only had twelve shots. Even if she could hit her target with every bullet, and she wasn't especially hopeful that she could, there wer
e at least thirty men in there. After the bullets were gone, the gun became a useless hunk of heavy metal that would barely scratch a man if she threw it at him.
Tucked into the corner of the open trunk the black handle to a small hatchet peeked out. She reached forward. Her fingers tightened on the rubber grip. The blade was dull and rusted, but heavy. An uneasy feeling swamped her belly, churning the bile that lay dormant there. Her fingers spasmed on the hatchet, gripping it so fiercely that her knuckles blanched.
She would have to kill them.
Not all. She couldn't even if she wanted to. But some. It would come to that. And some small part of her felt a tinge of relief that she knew she could.
It wouldn't be like killing the infected. There would be no mercy in it. The feel of an axe in her hands, the heft of it, the resistance as it met flesh and the force she had to exert to cut through the sinew; it came over her suddenly, almost blacking out the vision she had in front of her, almost stealing her away. She pulled the inside of her cheek through her teeth and bit hard, hard enough to taste the metallic tang of blood. But though it reminded her of the shed, of the blood from her and Danny and Cynthia that stained and mingled together on the floor, it grounded her too, brought her back to the shadowy grouping of rusty cars where she hid and the feel of the small hatchet, warm and ready in her hand.
She looked up quickly. The side door had swung shut. There was one man left outside, though he seemed distracted. He was standing on the side of the building, the side closest to her. His back was to a faded metal door and his eyes kept darting from the empty front entrance, to the closed door behind him. A faint shout rose from inside the massive store and he jumped, muttered a dismissive curse under his breath. He yanked the door open. It banged against the side of the building, wavering a bit before it started to swing shut. Kaylee watched quietly from her perch by the cars, the gun warm in her waistband, the hatchet firmly in her grip. The door swung slowly, met the door jamb. She waited to hear the click of its final closing, the sound of a bolt sliding home. But it didn't come. No one came back to check.
She sucked in a quick breath, rose to her feet, and sprinted across the parking lot.
Kaylee inched the door open just enough to fit her frame through. The interior of the Wal-Mart was pitch black. A stench wafted from the empty space beyond the door and out into the parking lot. It smelled of dirty socks and sewage. Kaylee grit her teeth and pressed forward, her toes catching immediately on piles of soiled linen. She paused, pulling the door closed behind her. It caught with a soft click and she let go of the handle, stilling in the dark to let her eyes adjust. She could hear the yells and shouts coming from the front of the store. They were peppered with crashes and dull thuds. Someone was groaning. Her heart sped up and her throat felt clogged. Her fingers tightened around the handle of the hatchet but she had never felt more useless before.
Something closer, softer and yet more distinct than the beatings she could hear drifted closer.
"That's right, sweetheart, this way." It was a man's voice, urging someone forward. It got louder as the sentence ended, closer to where Kaylee was standing. A flicker of a light, red and small, like the end of a cigarette, shone through the empty racks next to Kaylee and she dropped to her stomach, nestling under the piles of dirty laundry she had been standing on. She crammed the hand holding the hatchet into the twisted folds of a sheet, making sure it was covered. She pulled her gun from her waistband with her free hand and tucked that under her chest.
If she shot now, they'd know. The entire population of the store would hear and descend upon her. She wouldn't be able to run. Even if she was able to get out the door and into the parking lot, there was no way she'd make it across and not be within target distance. Her back tensed at the thought of a bullet piercing her as she sprinted.
The sound of boots on the floor drifted closer. Kaylee kept still. She breathed slowly, fetid air filling her lungs. There must have been a year's worth of filth in the dirty laundry. Clothing, sheets, ripped shreds of cloth, towels, they were all saturated with a mixture of sweat and urine and grime, piling several feet high in places and covering the stretch of the row.
"Sit," the voice instructed, closer to Kaylee than she had realized. Someone sat inches from her hatchet.
"Are they going to kill them?”
Anna's voice was soft. Her words carried in the dark corner of the store. The man laughed, a defeated bark that died quickly.
"Don't worry, you'll survive this," he said.
Kaylee shifted and she felt Anna tense next to her. She didn't dare speak, the guard was too close. She heard him as he backed away, the change as his boots left the piled laundry and met solid tile. He was pacing, agitated at the mouth of the hall.
Kaylee reached out, her fingers grasping until she met the warm skin of Anna's wrist. She pressed lightly but didn't grab, terrified that Anna might call out. She didn't. Her pulse leapt, bounding against Kaylee's fingertips, but she didn't move.
The approach of another man startled Kaylee. A rough voice called out.
"Willie? Riley wants you up front.”
"Thanks, Joe. I'm fine here," the guard answered. There was a defiance in his tone, firm and annoyed.
"Riley says you're not. Up front," Joe said. Kaylee stiffened when she heard a gun cock. One of the men, Kaylee wasn't sure who, grunted.
Footsteps faded towards the front of the store and under cover of a man's chuckling, Kaylee whispered, "It's me.”
Anna didn't respond; but she shifted her hands, bound together with a zip tie, closer to Kaylee. She had nothing but the dull hatchet but she brought the blade to Anna's wrists and pressed, sawing in the darkness.
"Well, well," a voice called out. He shifted closer. "Where are you at, girlie?”
Anna didn't respond and Kaylee pressed harder with the blade. She could feel the plastic stretch, biting into Anna's wrist.
"Gonna make me find you?" he asked. It was Joe, the new guard, the one with a cocked gun. "I can play that game.”
Kaylee felt the tie snap apart under the hatchet. Her hand pitched forward at the loss of resistance, catching along Anna's forearm. From the hiss she released, Kaylee knew she had cut her.
"There you are," Joe whispered, lunging forward in the dark. Kaylee froze, her muscles clenched as his knee grazed her ribs. In the darkness, she could just see his outline, his hands reaching for Anna's belt, her arms still bent behind her. Kaylee tensed, ready to spring.
Fingers, firm and fierce, gripped her hand. Anna was waiting, telling her to wait, too. She gripped her back, communicating understanding. The man was breathing fast and laughing under his breath.
"Don't have much fight in you, do you?" he grunted. Kaylee watched him struggle with Anna's pants, bending closer to her as he tried to peel them off.
Without warning, Anna lunged forward, her hands reaching for the man's neck. Her small fingers found the fleshy spots on either side of his windpipe and crushed, digging into his skin fiercely. His breathing was choked off and he swung, grazing the side of Anna's face with a closed fist. He was gurgling, trying to scream, but the tight grip Anna had on his throat wouldn't let him. Kaylee sprang up, hatchet in hand. She pulled her arm back and swung. With a choked cry he fell to the left, missing her blow by an inch. Anna rolled with him and Kaylee saw his fist rise again.
She swung with her blade, meeting his fist in mid air. He grunted as his hand smashed into the solid metal. Kaylee felt the hit reverberate up her arm and she lost her grip on the hatchet. He kicked out at her and caught her arm, sending the weapon flying.
The man reached behind, grappling for something he left on one of the shelves. His free hand bat at Anna, catching her a few times in the face but unable to really get a hold of her. Kaylee saw the sheen of the gun he was reaching for on the shelf, felt her own fingers tighten around the handle of the Glock she held. She grabbed a fistful of laundry and jumped at the man. She saw Anna's fingers lose their grip and the man take a searin
g breath. Kaylee pressed the laundry to his head and shoved the barrel of her gun into the soiled folds. She pulled the trigger without thought. The man fell limp beneath her.
The gunshot echoed in the aisle. Muffled, but not by much. The shouts and jeers from the front of the store stopped. Kaylee heard nothing but the soft whimpering that must have come from either Andrew or Bill.
The body underneath her was still warm. Something hot was staining her fingers, spreading. She couldn't see the carnage in the dark and she didn't want to.
"They heard that," Anna whispered. "We have to go.”
"Andrew," Kaylee said, the words coming through wooden lips.
"We have to hide," Anna said in a rush. She lunged forward and grabbed the gun Joe had left on the shelf, turning back towards Kaylee. She heard her buckle her belt in the darkness.
They ran along the back of the store, wary of the men they could hear coming in their direction. The men found Joe. In the ambient light of the flashlights, Anna and Kaylee climbed a distant shelf. It had once been a toy section and the flimsy shelves wouldn't have held much. But neither girl weighed much. The shelves were metal and held an odd arrangement of clearance toys, cheap plastic dinosaurs, scooters, a Barbie kitchen play set. Anna and Kaylee stretched out along the top, head to head, their backs to the wall. Boxes of toddler ride-on toys hid them from the rest of the store.
"Are you okay?" Kaylee asked in a whisper. The men were cursing Joe as an idiot, assuming he had somehow let Anna get his gun off him.
"Yes, you?”
"I'm fine.”
"Thank you," Anna said, her voice trailing off as a flashlight lit the wall behind them. "Don't know what I would have…"
Kaylee didn't answer. Someday, sometime, she may feel guilty for ending Joe's life. But at the moment, she didn't. She was scared and angry. She wanted to get Andrew and Bill away from these monsters and back to her sister and Jack. She wanted to feel safe for once, not always running, not always wondering what was around the next corner. Someday, she may find room for guilt. But she couldn't be bothered to muster any now.
