Authors: Emily Goodwin
Padraic had done a good job rounding up the weapons. It was a good thing I decided against keeping them loaded; they had been haphazardly thrown into canvas bags. A box of bullets spilled, rolling everywhere. As I picked them up, I swore each one would end up in the head of a zombie.
Raeya had kept two ‘emergency bags’ ready under the counter in the kitchen. Each bag contained enough food and water to sustain us for two days, and that was where there were ten of us. If we rationed it carefully, we’d have five or six days before we started to starve. More than anything, we needed to find a source of clean water. I wasn’t going to risk letting anyone drink out of a pond, lake or stream—that is, if we were lucky enough to find one. What if a zombie had walked through? I doubted they could swim. Would their bodies lay for eternity on the bottom?
“
No,” I said to myself. “They’d flake apart.”
“
Who would flake apart?” Raeya asked, startling me.
“
Zombies under water. Well, maybe flake isn’t the right word. Disintegrate? Yeah, that’s better.”
“
Eww.”
“
Yeah.” I hoisted one of the emergency bags over my shoulder. “You are brilliant for doing this, you know.”
“
Thanks, but you’re the one that said preparation is key, remember?”
“
I was just repeating what my grandpa told me.”
“
He’d be proud of you, Rissy.”
Emotion tightened my throat. “Yeah.” I nodded and walked into the house. We ate, we slept, and we left. I was forced to take gas from the Range Rover, which made me sick. If we ran out of fuel out in the middle of nowhere…there was just no hope.
After a few hours of mindlessly outrunning the setting sun, we came into a zombie infested parking lot. Both vehicles were running on less than a quarter tank. It was now or never. Sonja was fast. I entrusted her to get the gas while I distracted the zombies.
I probably looked like a terrorist, with a rifle slung over each arm and a pistol in each hand. My pockets were weighed down with bullets. It was a horrible plan.
But it worked.
I was able to get the zombies’ attention and opened fire with deadly accuracy. Atop of a school bus, I was out of their reach. It brought sick satisfaction to see their brains splatter as the bullets pierced through their rotting skin.
Raeya ran two over as she drove the truck. I jumped into the bed, rolling my ankle and twisting my wrist in the hurried attempt to get the hell out of there. We sped away, stopping when we couldn’t see, hear, or smell them anymore. I clambered into the truck, Argos excitedly greeting me.
The days blended together. Even Raeya stopped keeping track after a week. We were tired, ragged, hungry, cold, dirty, and losing hope. By constantly moving we were able to almost avoid any zombies or crazies. We slept in the cars, feeling safest with two pairs of wheels underneath us. If we needed to make a fast get away, we could.
Down to our last bit of jerky, I made a desperate stop in a small Kansas town. Like my hometown, this one had been looted. There was nothing left. We explored a tiny pizza parlor, coming out with nothing but cans of olives and tomato sauce.
That’s what we had for dinner that night.
I hadn’t slept in days. I would doze off for a few minutes and then startle awake. I promised myself that I would do whatever it took to keep the others alive. I lied to Raeya, telling her I’d already eaten and passed my ‘leftover’ raisins to her that morning.
It was a dreary, dull, cold morning. Wind blew through the weak slats in the barn where we were hiding. Half the roof had blown off in a storm. It was shitty protection from the elements, but it allowed us to see around us. It was temporary, I reminded everyone. We were all sick of being in the car. Our muscles were stiff from sitting, our spirits low, if even existent at that point, and our tempers high.
We were in the hayloft. Even Argos. It was a pain in the ass hauling his eighty-something pounds up there. Everyone had grown fond of him as a pet and no one could argue his practicality. He was resting with his head in my lap, dozing off as I scratched behind his ears. Raeya shivered. Trying not to disturb Argos, I took my jacket off and tossed it to her.
“
Ris, it’s too cold for you to not where a coat.” She frowned and held it out to me.
“
I’ll be fine for a little bit. Argos is keeping me warm.”
“
I’ll warm up my hands. Then you’re putting it back on,” she said and stuck her hands inside the sleeves.
“
Deal.”
Padraic began speaking when Argos growled. Frantically, I grabbed his leash. His fur stood up and he showed his fangs.
“
Holy shit,” I whispered when I saw what he was looking at.
Zombies. The ground trembled under their undead feet. More than I’d ever seen. We were fucked. We couldn’t stay here. If the next big gust of wind didn’t blow this dilapidated barn over, the herd of the marching dead certainly would.
“
Get against the wall and don’t move, speak, or breathe,” I instructed. I gave Argos’ leash to Padraic, who could handle the dog’s strength the best. Padraic pulled the dog close to him and clamped a hand around his muzzle to keep him from barking. We couldn’t stay here. We would all die. That, I was certain.
I grabbed a rifle, sticking my head through the strap. I slung the quiver of arrows and the bow over my shoulder, stuffed an extra clip in my pocket and stood.
“
What the hell are you doing?” Padraic asked, over Argos’ muffled growls.
“
I’m going to bring the truck around. Get in the back as soon as you can.”
“
No!” Raeya objected. “Rissy, you’ll die! You-you can’t go down there with them!”
“
They’re still far enough away I can get to the car.”
“
No, they’re not. Stay here and they will pass us,” she pleaded.
“
They will find us. Our best chance is getting out of here. Then we can double back for the SUV.”
“
Orissa, that is crazy!” Jason shouted. “What if you don’t make it?”
“
I have to try.” I moved to the ladder.
“
You could die,” Raeya cried, scrambling to her feet.
“
You either die trying or you just die,” I told her, feeling like this wasn’t really happening. “I’m not giving up yet. I said I’d keep you alive, and, well, this is the only way.”
My feet hit the cold cement, shock stinging my ankles. I pulled an arrow, ready to shoot. My breath clouded around me as adrenaline coursed my veins. The zombies were closer than I anticipated. They surrounded the cars, passing them without a second look. Hungry, they followed our human scent. I released the arrow. It zipped through the air and passed through a mushy zombie skull, continuing its lethal voyage into another’s eye.
I couldn’t do that again if I tried. I ran around the barn, clambering onto the roof of some sort of out building. I fired the rest of my arrows. Two fast zombies raced in front of the rest, stretching their arms out when they caught sight of my movement. Firing the gun would give me away for sure. I dropped the bow, jumped down and held the rifle like a baseball bat. I whacked one in the head and kicked the other in the chest.
Its skin slimed off, making the bottom of my boot slippery. My foot skidded out from underneath me. The zombie I kicked grabbed my foot, bringing it to his mouth. He couldn’t bite through my boot. The M9 was wedged in my waistband, hurting me like hell when I landed on my back. I madly thrashed around, retrieving it. I held it to the zombie’s head and pulled the trigger.
Spoiled bits of brain and thick blood splashed across my face. Thank God I remembered to close my eyes. Wiping zombie blood from my lips, I rolled over, shooting the other in the cheek.
Dammit
, I thought, cursing wasting a bullet. I fired again, this time hitting him right in between the eyes. Yellow brain matter oozed from the bullet hole. I scrambled back onto the roof of what had to be a chicken coup, based on the feathers. I emptied my clip, burying each round deep into the skull of a zombie.
Though they dropped like flies, it didn’t even dent the horrifying number that lumbered toward us. I switched to the rifle, shooting anything that moved. I needed to get off of the roof before I was completely surrounded. I dropped the rifle, shoved another clip into the M9 and jumped off. I sprinted to a silo. I climbed six feet up the ladder, twisting, and shooting.
A zombie moved through the crowd with sickening speed and grace. I had one bullet left. I aimed carefully, lining the scope up with his eye. I paused, thinking he was the best looking zombie I’d ever seen. His eyes met mine right as I pulled the trigger.
-Chapter 9-
A zombie next to him fell to the ground. He put his finger to his lips and walked, unnoticed, through the flesh eating monsters that clawed at the broken side of the barn. When he was at the bottom of the ladder, he motioned for me to come down. I swallowed, not knowing why in the world I would trust this person or who the hell he was walking amongst the zombies. I shoved the empty M9 in my waistband and climbed down, hands trembling almost uncontrollably.
As soon as my feet hit the ground, he pressed himself up against me, pinning me between his body and the silo. Over a black, long sleeve shirt, he was wearing a hairy, moldy leather vest. It was wrinkled and rotten in parts. I wanted to shove him off me when I realized it was made out of zombie skin. Fingers, tied to strings like freaking decorations, hung from his neck. A hand was tied to his belt. I didn’t know what part of the zombie was stitched onto the baseball cap he was wearing.
It was disgusting, having zombie parts rubbing against me. It smelled revolting. So revolting, that the zombies wouldn’t be able to distinguish his human smell from the rotting flesh of one of their own. I closed my eyes and buried my face against his chest.
As if we didn’t exist, the zombies milled by, grabbing at the weak wood that kept my friends safe. I was grateful for this very odd stranger but I wanted to help my friends. A gun fired. My body tensed, thinking somehow one of my friends had gotten a hold of a weapon and shot the guy who was saving me, thinking he was really a zombie.
He put an arm around me, obviously thinking the echoing shot scared me. My fingers closed around the material of his shirt. A zombie stopped, eyeing us hungrily. I pulled the guy closer to me, holding my breath. He inched closer, every part of him pressing into me. Too scared to breathe, I held my breath until the zombie moved on.
The rapid fire of machine guns was possibly the most beautiful sound in the world right now. I wanted to watch the zombies fall, finally dead. When I dared opened my eyes, the only thing I could see was my stranger’s chest. Something silver hung in front of me. I followed the ball chain down to a dog tag. UNDERWOOD HAYDEN J stamped into the metal. Under his name, blood type, and social security number were the letters ‘USMC’.
The Marine held me close to him as the zombies got gunned down. Voices echoed, male voices, deliberately shouting over the zombies’ death calls. There were more soldiers. Hayden leaned back so his eyes could meet mine. He looked to the right and then at me. Ever so slightly, I nodded. Clinging onto each other, we took the smallest step to the right. We froze, waited, and took another step. Painfully slow, we continued our game of stop and go until we were on the opposite side of the silo.
With an imperceptible movement, Hayden reached behind me and pulled the M9 from my jeans. Not taking his eyes off mine, he unloaded it, dropping the empty clip. Just as surreptitiously, he extracted something from his pocket. It clicked into place. He put the loaded gun into my hand and drew his own. He nodded again, a devious smile flashing across his face. He cocked his weapon and stepped away. There was a rusty piece of metal lying by our feet. I grabbed it. Hayden covered me while I shoved it in the open mouth of an approaching zombie.
Hayden quickly emptied his clip, hitting a zombie in the head with every shot.
Finally, someone who knows how to handle a gun
, I thought to myself. He kicked a zombie in the chest then crushed in its skull with his combat boots. He reached behind him, grabbing my hand. We ran through the barn, bypassing the zombies. An engine revved and a black truck sped into view, running over three zombies. Hayden jumped in the back, extending his hand to help but I was already in.
“
My friends are in there,” I panted as the truck sped off.
“
Not anymore,” Hayden informed me. He pointed to another truck, yards ahead of us. “We got them out.”
“
Thanks,” I breathed. My heart raced. I was half afraid I was dreaming or dead. The truck bumped through a cornfield. A gun was mounted in the middle of the bed. I leaned against the back, the fact that we had been more or less rescued sinking in.
“
I’m Hayden,” he told me.
“
Orissa.”
“
You’re crazy, taking on all those zombies. What were you doing?”
“
I was trying to get to our cars. Ya know, to drive away.”
“
Oh. You’re not military, are you?”
“
No.” I shook my head.
“
You have a good shot.”
“
Thanks. My grandpa taught me. He was in the Air Force.”
“
Nice. I’m—”
“
Marines,” I filled in.
“
How did you…?”
“
You rescued a psychic,” I said with a slight smile. His eyes widened. I think he believed me. “Your dog tags.”