Ferocious

by Jeff Strand

  Mia considered that for a moment. "Both at the same time."

  "Ready?"

  Mia nodded. There were no flecks of blood this time.

  Rusty climbed down the tree, taking great care not to step on a wolf torso. One of the wolves immediately spun around on the ground, moving with remarkable haste for an animal missing both of its front legs. Rusty kicked it in the head and hurriedly stepped away.

  He narrowly avoided two claw swipes from two different wolves. Mia let out a loud wince. Rusty wasn't sure what had happened to her, but she kept on moving, so it couldn't have been too ghastly.

  A wolf that was missing the entire left side of its head tried to bite Rusty's leg. Its jaws did indeed close upon him, but it couldn't get any serious chomping power behind the bite, and Rusty pulled free without a problem.

  He slammed his foot down upon the jaws of a severed wolf head, discouraging its biting attempt. Honestly, now that he was down here amongst the wolf parts, it was less dangerous than flat-out disturbing. He didn't think he was seconds away from death, but when the inevitable nightmares began, these moments would definitely get more than their share of dream time.

  Mia cried out. She raised her foot, which had a wolf head attached to it, then did a high kick, flinging the head away.

  "Did it bite you?" Rusty asked.

  "Not bad. Don't worry about me."

  A severed paw ineffectually tried to murder Rusty, and then he was clear of the wolf parts. A few more steps and Mia was clear as well. They hurried over to the boards they'd dropped, picked them back up, and continued on their way.

  "How bad did you get bit?" Rusty asked.

  "It didn't break through my shoe. Did you get bit?"

  "Only by half a mouth. It didn't do anything."

  "We came out of that one okay, then."

  "Yeah. And we came out of the porcupine herd okay. We're doing better. Hard to believe it was the—" Rusty started to note the irony that it was a woodpecker that had caused the worst injury, but he didn't think Mia would appreciate that particular observation right now. He'd save that for after the greatest eye surgeon in the world repaired her. "I'm a little haunted by this last one. How about you?"

  "Totally haunted," said Mia. "How far do you think we've gone?"

  "Not very."

  "A mile?"

  Rusty didn't think so. "Maybe."

  "I have to admit, I feel a little better about this now."

  "Why?"

  "We have a plan of action. If things get really bad, we can climb a tree and fight them from a safe distance. It wasn't easy or convenient, but we're still alive."

  "Some animals can climb trees."

  "Right, but some of them can't. For the ones that can't, like the packs of wolves that are giving us trouble, we have a plan."

  "Fair enough," said Rusty. "Yes, we're better off than we were before we were forced up a tree."

  "Bears can climb trees, but it would be climbing the tree vertically, meaning you'd have a chance to slam the chainsaw blade into its head. That's way better than fighting one right in the middle of the road, which we've already done."

  "When you put it that way, I guess things are looking up for us."

  "We've gone through too much to die now. It wouldn't be fair. We're going to keep on fighting our way through these fuckers, climbing trees when we have to, and then we'll drive the hell out of here. How's your squirrel bite?"

  Rusty scratched it. "It's fine. I'd forgotten about it, actually."

  "See? You're not going to turn into a zombie."

  "Well, we don't know how long it would take, but no, I'm not feeling sick or anything."

  "Things are good."

  "I wouldn't say good..."

  "I got stabbed in the eyeball. It still really, really hurts. If I can say that things are going to work out okay, then you should believe me."

  "Then I believe you."

  "I tried hopeless bleak despair. I didn't enjoy it. I much prefer the attitude that we're going to kick ass."

  "All right," said Rusty. "Then let's kick ass."

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  They walked for quite a while without anything else attacking them. In fact, Rusty estimated that they were halfway to the truck before a bobcat—the entirety of its spine exposed—ran out of the woods toward them. There wasn't time to start up the chainsaw, but one smack with each of their boards and a few quick swings of Mia's axe took care of it.

  * * *

  The occasional bird swooped down at them. Fortunately, it was never a Hitchcock-style mass of birds; two at the most. They protected their eyes, and though they each got a couple of pecks (and yes, Mia completely freaked out when it happened) they were able to dispatch the birds with relative ease. "Relative" compared to a zombie bear, sure, but the birds fell to the ground with one hit, and from there they could be crushed with a board.

  "I used to like birds," said Mia.

  "Maybe someday you'll like them again."

  "I don't think so."

  * * *

  They heard something running behind them, and when they turned around it was the wolf with the broken neck. Somehow it had followed them all this way, even though its head was flopping back and forth. Rusty wondered how many trees it had bonked into.

  Rusty had stopped feeling bad about sawing up the undead forest creatures, but he did kind of feel guilty that the wolf had persevered in the face of adversity and would be rewarded for its fierce tenacity by getting its head chopped off. But unless the wolf turned around and ran in the other direction, it was getting its head chopped off.

  The wolf did not turn around.

  Rusty pulled the chainsaw cord. It started right up.

  The wolf ran toward them, weaving around the road because of the difficulties involved in locating prey when one's head was dangling sideways. It ran past them, realized it overshot its target, did a U-turn, then ran at Rusty.

  He sliced its head off.

  The remainder of the wolf ran off the road, smacked into a tree, and fell over. Its legs kicked in the air as it struggled to get back up.

  Rusty and Mia continued on their way.

  * * *

  Something huge rustled in the bushes to the left.

  They glanced over. Another grizzly bear.

  Shit.

  Rusty revved up the chainsaw. The bear turned and ran, disappearing from sight within seconds.

  It must've been a normal bear. A throwback to a simpler time when a bear wouldn't charge at you with homicidal intent unless its cubs were on the other side.

  Rusty turned off the chainsaw. "Maybe we're out of the danger zone," he said. "Maybe it's just normal bears from now on."

  "I would like that," said Mia.

  "Let's see how it goes."

  * * *

  That theory was disproven by the undead raccoon that scampered down a tree and rushed at them. It took an extremely long time to chop the raccoon in half.

  * * *

  Rusty and Mia walked for at least five minutes without anything scary jumping out at them. It was a very pleasant five minutes.

  "How far do you think we've gone?" Mia asked.

  "I'd say we've passed the two-mile mark. If we keep up this pace, we'll be there in fifteen or twenty minutes."

  "What if I ran ahead?"

  "Why would you do that?"

  "I could get the boards set up. Try to get the truck out. Save us some time."

  "No," said Rusty. "I wouldn't want you running up ahead without the chainsaw, and if a zombie bear came after me while you were gone, I wouldn't want you to have the chainsaw."

  "I've got the axe."

  "The axe is fine, but it's no chainsaw."

  "You're right, you're right," said Mia. "Guess I'm just anxious."

  "I hear you. But we've made it this far. We'll make it to the end."

  "That's what the wolf with the broken neck thought."

  Rusty chuckled. "I thought you weren't doing despair anymore."<
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  "I'm not. I agree with you—we'll make it to the end. The way things have been going, we may even make it without having to dismember anything else."

  "I've gotta say, as soon as we're out of these woods, I never want to dismember anything again for as long as I live."

  "Oh, me too. My dismemberment days are over. I used to love it, but there's only so much dismemberment you can do before you get completely sick of it. Maybe in a few years I'll rediscover my love of dismembering things, but right now I can't imagine ever going at it with the same passion."

  "We have weird-ass conversations," Rusty noted.

  "I think normal conversations are over for us."

  "You're right. How can I ask you to pass the salt after watching you ride around on a zombie bear?"

  "I didn't ride around on it," said Mia.

  "You were on its back."

  "It wasn't a ride."

  "When I tell the story, you'll have been riding on the back of a zombie bear."

  "I honestly don't feel like this is an adventure that needs to be exaggerated when you tell people about it. If anything, you may want to reign it in."

  "Do you know how many body parts we've left behind?" Rusty asked. "Pretty sure people will be able to verify our story."

  "You're right."

  Rustling in the woods up ahead. Rusty hated that sound. "Shit."

  They looked over at the source of the sound. A deer—a buck—emerged from the forest and stood in the middle of the road.

  "Normal deer?" Mia asked.

  "I'm not sure." They kept walking. The deer didn't move. It stared at them with eyes that may or may not have been bloodshot.

  "Get out of here!" Mia shouted. She picked up a rock and flung it at the deer. The rock bounced off its chest. The deer did not run away.

  "Undead deer," said Rusty.

  He didn't want to be frightened of a deer, but it did have antlers that could fuck somebody up.

  Rusty hadn't even finished thinking, "At least it's only one deer" before a doe stepped into the road next to it. There was no need to question the doe's alive/undead status—ribs were exposed on each side.

  Rusty and Mia didn't stop walking. Mia held up her axe and Rusty dropped his board and started the chainsaw, which hadn't given him any more trouble since their escapade in the tree.

  Both deer charged.

  Rusty didn't panic. A pair of zombie deer were no big deal, not after everything they'd encountered.

  They were pretty frickin' fast, though.

  The deer seemed to have chosen their individual targets. The buck was coming after Rusty and the doe was coming after Mia. Divided along gender lines. That seemed fair.

  Rusty held his ground. He'd use the tactic that had been working reasonably well so far: wait until the last moment, then dodge the charge and swing the chainsaw. As long as he didn't get impaled by those gigantic, razor-sharp-looking antlers (he knew they weren't really razor-sharp, but they sure as hell looked that way when they were headed straight for him at great speed) he'd be fine.

  He dodged at the last moment. As the buck raced past him, he swung the chainsaw, opening it up from chest to tail. No guts spilled out, but he'd cut deep, and the buck stumbled as it tried to turn around for a second attack.

  Mia was not so fortunate.

  Either she hadn't dodged properly or the doe shifted direction, but it had collided with her at full force. She'd fallen to the ground and the doe ran over her, its back legs slamming down on her own legs. Mia screamed.

  The doe spun around and trampled her again.

  Rusty wanted to pull her to safety, but he still had a vicious buck to contend with. It rushed at him, its mouth wide-open, exposing teeth that shouldn't have been as scary as they were. Rusty stepped out of the way, took a swing at its neck, and missed.

  Mia frantically tried to crawl out from underneath the doe. She'd dropped her axe. Rusty couldn't tell how badly she was hurt.

  The buck charged again, head lowered, clearly going for impalement. Rusty cried out as one of its antlers struck his shoulder. His whole arm went numb and the chainsaw fell out of his hand, still spinning. He almost lost his footing but stayed upright.

  Mia grabbed for the axe. Rusty saw her patting her hand against the ground, unable to see the weapon. The doe leaned down and bit her on the arm. She screamed again.

  Rusty couldn't move his fingers. At least his shoulder wasn't bleeding.

  The buck came at him once more. The murderous deer wasn't paying enough attention to where it was going, because its front hoof landed on the chainsaw blade. The deer fell over, and Rusty rolled out of the way just in time to avoid being crushed by it.

  Rusty snatched up the chainsaw with his non-numb hand and immediately pressed the blade against the buck's neck. After the blade went all the way through, he dropped the chainsaw and picked up the buck's head, which was shockingly heavy.

  As the severed head tried to take a big bite out of him, he slammed its antlers into the side of the doe with as much force as he could possibly muster. The antlers, which were not razor-sharp, didn't plunge into the doe, but the impact was enough to distract it from Mia.

  It tried to bite Rusty. He thrust the antlers at its head, hoping to gouge out one or both of its eyes. Instead, one of the antlers got the doe right in the snout, sinking deep into its nostril and splitting its snout in half. Rusty let go of the buck's head, which dropped to the ground, still trying to bite. He stomped on its lower jaw, because he was sure that if he didn't he'd accidentally step in its mouth later and lose a toe.

  Mia finally got a hold of the axe. She sat up and threw it at the doe. It was a good hit, striking the deer in the side and sinking in deep enough to stick, but throwing the axe wasn't an intelligent decision. She wasn't thinking straight.

  The doe slammed its head into Rusty, knocking him to the ground.

  It leaned down to bite his face off. He put up his arm in time to block it.

  Rusty grabbed the chainsaw and thrust it up into the doe's throat. With no small amount of effort, he sawed off its head, which landed right on his stomach. He turned his head to the side and vomited.

  The headless deer walked past him.

  He couldn't let it get away with the axe. He got up, fell back down, got up again, and walked after it. The deer was walking faster than he was.

  Rusty picked up the buck's head by the antlers and flung it at the doe. The throw didn't have enough distance and the head landed on the ground, breaking one of the antlers.

  Rusty doubled over and threw up again. Though this wasn't the worst pain he'd felt today, it was like being punched in the stomach really, really hard. That wasn't something that faded quickly.

  The doe wandered off the road. Finally it tripped and fell over.

  Rusty walked over to it, wrenched the axe out of its side, chopped off one of its legs to keep it from getting up and following him, then returned to Mia, whose face was contorted in pain. He crouched down next to her, looking for spurting blood.

  "Where did it get you?"

  "My leg."

  Rusty gently ran his hand down her right leg. Please don't let me feel protruding bones. Please don't let me feel protruding bones. Please don't let me feel protruding bones.

  Her leg seemed okay from this cursory examination. That didn't mean the bones weren't shattered inside.

  They needed to get going, but if her leg was in terrible shape, standing her up would make things much worse. He used the axe blade to slice her jeans open to the top of her leg, then pulled the fabric aside.

  He stopped the wince in time, though she probably saw him cringe.

  There was a hideous bruise that covered her leg from her knee to her waist. He didn't see any spots where the skin was broken, but the whole thing was a truly grotesque mix of red and dark purple. It wasn't difficult to imagine thousands of bone splinters underneath that mess.

  "Do you think it's broken?" Rusty asked.

  "I don't know."
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  "I'm going to very slowly help you up. If you feel like it's grinding things around in there, we'll stop and figure out something else. Okay?"

  "Okay."

  Rusty took both of her hands and stood up. He gradually began to pull her up, expecting a shriek of agony at any moment. She whimpered in pain, but did not wail as if broken bones were stabbing into muscles.

  Finally she was on her feet. With Rusty still holding her, she took a tentative step forward.

  "I—I don't think I broke anything."

  "Thank God."

  "I don't know if I can walk on it, though."

  "Let's test it out."

  Rusty didn't let go of her hands, but he relaxed his grip so that she was mostly staying upright on her own. She started to take a step, then shook her head. "I can't walk. I can't put my full weight on that leg or I'm gonna lose my balance."

  "Okay...well...that's unfortunate, but we'll work through it. I can carry you on my back."

  "You can not carry me on your back."

  "Not easily."

  "You can barely walk yourself. We have to find another way."

  "We can hide you and I can come back for you after I get the truck."

  "We already decided that splitting up was bad."

  "Right," said Rusty. "It is bad. But if you can't walk..."

  "I'll use one of the boards as a crutch. If that doesn't work, you can bury me in the mud or something until you get back."

  "Is the board the right height?"

  "We'll see."

  The board was a little too short to make a good crutch, but it made a usable-if-awkward one, and at least Mia could walk. She put the axe in her backpack. Rusty didn't like her not having it immediately handy, but he expected Mia to fall at least once and probably several times and he didn't want it to happen while she was holding a sharp bladed weapon. He picked up the board he'd dropped. He'd known they were good for being made into furniture, but boards were proving to be useful in so very many ways.

  "It's nothing to worry about," Rusty assured her. "We're less than a mile away. We'll make it. It'll just take longer, that's all. No big deal."