Aftermath (Book 1): Only The Head Will Take Them Down (7 page)

Andrew didn’t need a moment to think about it, it was time to run to John. Whether surrounded by the undead or sitting calmly, ready to go, John would know what to do. Immediately Andrew put foot before foot, pounding heavily against the solid floor, sprinting as quickly as his legs would allow him over to his still shocked companion, who stood – jerry can and filling tube still in hand, his shirt now stained with the murky colour of gasoline – between the Prius and pickup.

Sliding around the nearest car, Andrew ran straight for the pickup, throwing his backpack into the rear bed and then clambering into the passenger seat, all but screaming his apologies as he did. John followed suit, throwing his own backpack into the rear of the truck before climbing into the driver’s seat, happy that the decision on what vehicle to take had at least been made for him. His hands wrapped around the keys, already in the ignition, and he himself began a brief but very real prayer for the car to start first time, or quite simply, to start at all. Little in his life had taken as long to occur than the twisting of that key, and as both him and Andrew’s ears listened out hopefully for the familiar sound of an engine starting. Suddenly they were filled with delight by the rugged, grizzly noise of a 3.7 litre monster roaring into life, albeit at the expense of attracting the attention of anything nearby not already making its way over to them.

The two were elated, neither had been in a moving vehicle for a long while, thus presenting them with a feeling akin to riding a bicycle for the first time, an act that suddenly put your travelling abilities leagues ahead of what they had so recently been. Their happiness though, quickly faded, at the realisation that whilst the car did indeed start, it was in no position to move. Both the hatchback in front and the Prius behind were almost touching bumpers with the truck, as well as the vehicles at their other ends. If the two were to get out of here, one of those cars needed to move, and as John slammed the truck forwards, and tried fruitlessly to budge the seemingly small pile of metal in front, they both realised what needed to be done.

John turned to Andrew, ready to ask something he wished he’d never have to ask, but it was too late. Andrew had left the truck, and was already clambering into the hatchback in front, twisting its much quieter self into life. It had a small engine, little storage, and only average fuel consumption, and was therefore of little use to the pair. But right now it played an incredibly important role, standing between both men and their ability to escape from the encroaching attackers. Alas, it was in a similar spot, almost bumper to bumper with the car in front, seemingly immovable. Defiantly, the pair both pushed hard, the truck shoving the hatchback and the hatchback pushing the car in front, gaining mere millimetres with every movement, but those millimetres adding up to a bigger distance none-the-less.

As the loud, engine roar entwined shoving and banging of bumpers went on, the nearest undead began to gain pace, one in particular already coming up behind the truck. Within seconds it was alongside John’s window, gnawing at the glass like a fish trying to escape from a tank. John however was content to ignore it, knowing it was unlikely to break through the glass in any kind of hurry. But it had other ideas, abandoning its quest for the seemingly unattainable man in the truck, in favour of its other prey, Andrew. Watching it make its way over, John knew that he had to act, drawing his Ruger with one hand and opening his door with the other. Still he continued to ram forwards and backwards at the same time, the sound of car alarms being set off serenading his every shove.

Suddenly the gap finally became big enough, the hatchback having shifted enough for the Prius to force it forwards by a few feet, and giving the truck just enough room to manoeuvre out. Without thinking, Andrew immediately left the Prius, standing out into the open air, ready to get into the truck and be gone, but he hadn’t seen the biter, the ambling corpse of rotten flesh and sharp, piercing bones, that was on a warpath that had him marked as a mid-morning snack. His face dropped as the thing lunged at him, pinning him to the floor and biting at the open air between them, mere millimetres from Andrew’s nose. Within a single second, a hot, white flash filled the space around him, as a .22 calibre round, fired from John’s Ruger, immediately found its target in the form of the rotting, stinking head of the biter pinning Andrew down. All of a sudden the body became limp, dropping its full weight on top of Andrew’s medium sized frame, what little breath he had escaping out as the dead weight landed hard on his stomach.

Quickly Andrew shoved the weight of the biter off, and got to his feet, keen to get into the truck before the second attacker – who was now ambling towards the pair from just a few metres further away – had a chance to arrive. Andrew climbed into the passenger seat just in time to see the corpse begin gnawing once again at John’s window, John putting his foot hard to the floor as an immediate response.

The huge weight of the truck brought with it immense levels of traction, dragging the 3 tonne mass of metal forwards as it did, careering straight off of the main highway and onto the grassy central reservation. The attacking corpse fell straight under the rear wheel, short work for the deadly weight of the F150.

The two were elated, free from another near fatal encounter, and this time with much more than just tinned food or water. This time they had gained something they hoped would get them to their destination and back that very same day, and as the pair admired the spoils of their efforts, John couldn’t hide his sense of joy at the sight of the dashboard. The fuel tank that was already three quarters full, and the warning light-free screen indicated that they – or rather Andrew – may just have made the right choice.

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The feeling of driving felt almost foreign at this point, and was almost an entirely new experience now that the rules of the road could be well and truly discarded. The bigger problem however, was the numerous car crashes and congested stretches that littered the highway like a rash that seemed to spread as far as the eye could see. The idea of driving at any kind of speed was completely lost, with the need to weave in and out of vehicles or leave the road altogether occurring almost every few metres.

As the F150 crept slowly along the embankment around yet another overly-gridlocked section of the previously quiet interstate, the pair began to approach their first on-ramp, a point that would have caused traffic issues even at the best of times thanks to the sudden influx of traffic, joining on to the already well-populated highway. Now though, it caused a truly incomprehensible mess, where vehicles had been so frantic to flee wherever they’d come from, that gaps between cars were impassable, and the wrecks of regular collisions littered the central reservation. Suddenly both men began to realise that their only hope of passing this sudden and unexpected wall of cars lay in either turning back and finding another way, or pushing their way through, with significant volume.

“We should head back, right?”, Andrew asked.
John’s eyes scanned the area, pinpointing the smallest of holes that might represent the closest thing to a passing point, that simple thing the pair needed so desperately.
“We go back we’ll probably just end up in the same way someplace else”, John replied dismissively. “I say we try and push through, maybe on the left side up there by the RV?”.
John was referring to a somewhat thinned section of traffic, spearheaded by an RV that had jack-knifed during the chaos, gaps on either side potentially making it easier to ram through.
“Good as any I suppose”, answered Andrew unconvinced, his voice so flaky it was clear he was incredibly concerned.
“Get yourself ready, we’re about to make a whole lot of noise. If we get stuck we’ll need to be out on foot and moving, quick”, John instructed.
“Understood”, Andrew responded, checking his pockets for the few essentials he had with him – some loose bullets and a few food snacks for the trip – before frantically tightening up the laces of his boots.

The initial section was easy, some slow tight turning saw the first few wrecks narrowly avoided, but as the huge truck approached the overturned RV, and scratched its rear bumper slightly on one of the harder to pass wrecks, the two knew this would be difficult, if indeed possible at all. Straight in front, a series of SUV’s and station wagons lay side by side, bumper to bumper, some spun sideways most likely due to the chaos the RV had caused. John’s eyes again began scanning for a weak spot, eventually deciding on an old and yellowed station wagon, one of the few cars facing outwards and thus – he hoped – one of the few that were easier to push out of the way.

As chrome hit chrome, albeit incredibly slowly, various noises began to surface. First it was the roar of the F150’s huge gas guzzling engine, then the screeching of metal on metal, and finally the slight crunching of the station wagon’s body work. The pace was painfully slow, moving just centimetres at a time, in exchange for an increasingly excessive amount of noise. But never-the-less, the metal obstacle began to move, giving them both cause for a much needed sigh of relief.

This newfound success was enough to lull them both into a near intoxicated state, so much so that neither managed to spot the movement to the side, a relatively small mass, but one that was hurtling to them at incredible pace. This was not uncommon for a fresh biter, yet to be ruined by the lack of feeding and long hours of wandering, and it was clear from its speed that this was most certainly fresh. So fast was it in fact, that it hit the truck with an almighty bang, no doubt misinterpreting the driver-side window for an open gap, its face smashing clean through the pane as it did. Both John and Andrew were snatched from their short-lived navigational success, terrified at the sudden change of situation, both reacting in what seemed like slow motion to the new arrival. The creature’s head seemed to recoil slightly, almost knocked out by the impact, but unfortunately for them these things did not get knocked out, not without serious force, and so it was mere seconds before it was ready to strike again.

John’s reactions were truly put to the test, his mind considering the situation and its various outcomes in a split second. Catching sight however of yet more bodies encroaching on their position, he decided that the best response was flight, not fight. Putting foot to the floor yet again, John began ramming the station wagon as hard as he could, the huge F150 slowly beginning to gain more ground, and its sheer mass eventually freeing up enough of a gap to pass through.

Content with the clearing, John quickly slammed the Ford into reverse, pulling away from the now crumpled wagon, ready to accelerate off into the distance. Before it could however, the creature lunged again, this time through the now open window, and directly at John’s face. Suddenly, John felt the cold, dead breath of a deceased human being and the raspy groaning of a lifeless but motion-filled body, as its teeth prepared to sink into the warm, delicious flesh of a living person’s cheek, providing the nourishment and feeding that it so desperately needed. John immediately turned away, putting as much distance between the closing jaw and his own skin as he could, and instead looking to his companion, whose actions sent John’s eyes widening in utter shock.

This time the bullet came from Andrew’s gun, a much more powerful .45 calibre round hurtling towards the creature’s mouth. The bullets dead centre placement – which saw it fly straight through the centre of the mouth and out of the neck, shattering the brain stem as it went – was extremely surprising. It had the feel of a marksman’s shot, one that had been lined up to utter perfection, though it seemed more likely that this was nothing more than a stroke of luck, or so it seemed.

As the creature froze, the brain’s connection to the body so abruptly severed – and the brain itself quickly wilting away – it tried frantically to clasp down onto John’s cheek, but it was no use, control had been lost, sending it dropping down to the floor outside the truck in what still felt like slow motion.

Andrew prepared himself for the seemingly inevitable praise from his leader, whose life he had saved at the absolute last moment. But it didn’t come. Instead, John slowly opened his eyes – each of them having closed at the sight of the bright flash – his mouth trembling with pain as he did, and the sight of blood coming into sight. The liquid was seeping from the gaping gash that had been inflicted on John’s cheek.

Luckily for John, this was no bite mark, no last injury that marked the start of the turn to the land of the dead. Unluckily for both of them however, this was a bullet wound, a .45 calibre catastrophe, from an M1911 pistol.

Chapter 7: See through the trees

“Oh my God!”, Andrew yelped, dropping the pistol to the floor as if to separate it from its victim.
“ARRRGGGHHHH!!”, John cried out, unable to control the pain, but still slamming his foot to the floor to at least get the vehicle as far from danger as possible.

John knew what he was doing, he knew that even in the worst case scenario, he had to do what he could to save the most amount of people, the sort of quick thinking that quickly paid off as more undead creatures leapt at where the truck had so recently been stuck.

“Oh my God!”, Andrew repeated, still staring in awe at the gushing wound. “Oh my G-“.
“SHUT UP WOULD YOU!?”, John cut him short with an abrupt yell, a yell more akin to a growl that had escaped through gritted teeth.
“But John, your face! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean t-“.
“I KNOW, OKAY? JUST…
I know!
”, John cut in again, his eyes seeking the best route around the few remaining obstacles, eventually steering the truck into its first batch of open road since they had begun driving, a sight that would have filled them both with joy, had recent events occurred a little differently.
“Let’s just relax, and g...get somewhere safe so we can l…look at it, okay?”, John stuttered, unable to get through the sentence without reeling from the pain.
Andrew could only nod in response, terrified that anything he said might give John the little further encouragement needed for him to return the .45 calibre favour.