“C’mon, guys,” I urged. I stopped too, my eyes now scanning the bunch and trying to figure out what they might be up to. “Are you gonna make me come to you? I can, ya know.”
I hefted my little fire bomb, bringing my arm back in preparation for my throw. That action made a few of the children start for me, but they only came a few steps before stopping. What I saw happen next gave me a bit of a chill. I made sure to catalog this so I could tell Dr. Zahn when I got back to Platypus Creek. The ones that had started forward looked back to the main group. There were some moans and a few cries from the main herd and the few that had started for me all turned around and re-joined their brethren.
I warred with myself for a span of a few heartbeats, and then I reached down and snuffed the burning cloth. I think I heard Timmy gasp back on the top of the bus as I set the device down and then put my arms out to the sides as I started forward slowly.
I have grown up with the motto of never leaving a zombie behind and still mobile if possible. The theory was that since zombies did not re-produce (at least in the conventional way); every one you took down was one less you might have to deal with later.
The problem that I was having might be partially due to all I’d heard about Billy’s encounter, but to me, killing these zombie children suddenly seemed wrong. I would lead them away if they would follow. If it became necessary, yes, I would end them, but suddenly, that did not seem essential. I only hoped I was not making a terrible mistake.
I had to find a way around them and the best choice was for me to go to the right and climb the embankment. Once I was up and above them a good distance, then I could hopefully keep their attention and lead them away. That would all work fine as long as I didn’t slip, lose my footing, and slide down into the midst of the group. If that happened, I was toast. I might be able to escape the clutches of the children and get away, but those cats had me nervous.
As I climbed the steep embankment, I had to allow myself to laugh. Here I was, confronted with way too many zombies for one person to be able to handle and I was worried about a bunch of cats. It almost seemed silly as I moved parallel to the zombie children who were now all watching me with their heads tilting one way and then the other in that creepy bird-like manner that made it feel like they were studying me more than anything else. A few even moved my way, but just as before, when they realized (if zombies can realize) that the others were not following, they shifted back to join the group.
From above them, I was able to see a few things that I could not pass off as coincidence. For one, the youngest seemed to be in the middle of the pack. Once more, that was something I needed to file away. This was building up a mountain of evidence that the child zombie had at least some ability to act with a certain sort of consciousness. Also, the cats trailed behind the herd apparently grazing on bits and pieces that fell or sloughed off. What brought my attention to that little disgusting nugget was an arm that had somehow come off. I watched for a moment as five cats tugged and pulled at it, Eventually, one large black one managed to trot off with its prize, but not before the others each managed to rip away a chunk and scurry off someplace private to enjoy a mini-feast.
If nothing else, I was learning things that I know Dr. Zahn would love hearing. Also, if I was being honest with myself, I was becoming fascinated with how these zombie children were so obviously different.
At last I was past them far enough that I felt comfortable moving down the slope and back to the road. So far, things were going surprisingly well. As soon as that thought skidded across my brain, I groaned inwardly.
Nothing like a good jinx
, I thought bitterly. I slid down on my butt, not wanting to risk that one wrong step that would send me sprawling, or worse, injuring an ankle. Zombies might be slow, but they don’t take breaks and they don’t feel pain. A sprained ankle was a death sentence out here.
As I got to my feet, I had that creepy feeling like when you are in water where your feet can’t touch the bottom. I was now on the other side of the zombies which meant that all my support, my home, and my best escape route was now outside of any easy reach. I was committed to this course of action now whether I liked it or not.
I started walking backwards at first, making a decent amount of noise so that the zombie children all started in pursuit of me and basically forgot whatever had led them this direction in the first place. As I looked them over, I realized that this was the first time that I’d seen a mob consisting solely of the child zombie. Even Billy’s story only spoke of a small group. They were certainly not in the numbers that were following me. The only reported incidents of this many child zombies in one area was that town with all the cats and a few rumors that filtered in with traders and nomadic travellers who passed through Platypus Creek from time to time.
That icky feeling was soon replaced by something else. I was experiencing something new and different. I would have information to share that, at least as far as I knew, nobody else had gathered. I don’t know why, but that felt exciting.
I stopped so that the little zombies could close the distance a bit. I figured keeping a good thirty or so feet would be sufficient. If I tripped or anything strange, I would still have plenty of time to get to my feet even if the ones in front sped up a bit like they sometimes did when they were about to attack. That was another thing unique to the child zombie. They were rumored to have the ability to put on a little burst of speed. Not anything crazy fast, but it was still almost a speed walker sort of tempo.
As I started down the highway with my little parade of child zombies, I had to wonder what this might look like to an outsider. When I felt that they were committed to following me, I returned my attention to what was in front of me. The road was long and wound lazily down the foothills of what were once known as the Blue Mountains. I don’t think we call them anything now. They are simply where our home is located.
I knew that this would eventually empty out into the valley where La Grande is situated. I did not plan on being on the road that long, but I wanted to be sure that I had this little group far enough away before I ditched them so that they would not just double back. There were enough old turnoffs along the way down that would lead up into the woods.
Once again I had a thought that made me giggle. I was leading a bunch of children on a hike where my ultimate goal was to get them lost in the woods.
I’d been playing the part of the Pied Piper for about twenty minutes when I started to notice one zombie in particular that was sort of leading the pack. At first I didn’t really give it much thought. By the third time that I looked back and noticed that it was the same one, I sped up to put a little distance between me and the group. Once I felt good about the space between us, I turned with my binoculars in hand. It wasn’t that I needed them to see, but I wanted a close look at this one particular zombie.
Even before I brought the glasses up, I could feel something niggling at my brain. When I zoomed in on the lone figure that was now a good five or six feet in front of the rest of the group, I gasped.
“That’s not possible,” I said out loud.
I let the glasses drop. As I did so, I noticed that, for whatever reason, the rest of the zombie mob had stopped. Only this lone figure continued to make its way towards me.
The years had not been kind. As was the case with any of the undead that have existed for several years, this one had lost its clothing. Rot, decay, and snagging on branches and brambles had taken its toll. I’d also noticed when I was looking at its face that this one had very few teeth remaining. That was often the case with child zombies. Many of them were even toothless simply because baby teeth don’t hold up. Their permanent teeth are trapped under leathery gums. They might actually wear through in places, but at best they provide jagged nubs.
This one had lost most of its hair as well, but a few wispy strands were still clinging to the skull in a few patches. There were signs of more than one attempt to bring this zombie down. I counted no less than a dozen bullet holes in the torso as well as one in the throat.
When it came to within about twenty feet, the zombie stopped and just swayed a bit as it regarded me. We studied each other and I felt my skin pebble with goose bumps as the realization solidified.
“Emily?” I whispered.
The zombie did not move or react to its name, but I knew who I was seeing. I also now knew that everything Billy had said was absolute truth. A small voice in my head told me to end her. After all, when the story of how Steve had been unable to do it was told, hadn’t I refused to believe it? I hated the idea of Emily wandering the earth as one of the walking dead
Now, here I stood. I was face-to-face with a zombie that I knew to be my childhood friend. I had no idea what had led her here or any of the millions of variables that had to occur for us to meet like this, and I didn’t care.
In that very instant I understood Billy. I understood Steve. I knew why they had let this zombie continue to exist. Despite the weathered skin and the fact that she had almost no nose and her lips had worn or withered away, I knew that the zombie studying me was Emily.
“What would you do if this were the other way around?” I asked.
I took another step closer and the zombie matched me. Eventually, we were maybe just under ten feet or so from each other. Now I could really see the wear and tear that her body had endured over the years. I actually had to wonder how she hadn’t just fallen apart.
She opened her mouth and let loose with a low moan. Her head tilted to the side and then seemed to drift so that she looked down. If I didn’t know any better, I would swear she was looking at the machete at my hip. Maybe that was just my brain trying to push me in the direction that I knew was the right one.
“I’m sorry that this happened to you, Emily.” I still made no move for my weapon and she made no attempt to lunge at me or anything that might be perceived as an attack. “You are going to make me choose, aren’t you?”
I shot a look past her at the little herd of zombies still just milling about on the road just up from us. I had to wonder why they had not advanced, not that I wanted them all standing here this close, but still, for them to do what they were doing, that had to mean that the child version could somehow communicate…or, at the very least, make semi-cognizant decisions.
“I wish for just one minute you could speak,” I said, returning my focus to the zombie before me. It was in that moment that I had another realization; I had always looked up to Emily. Not just in how I regarded her, but also the simple fact that she was taller. Now, I was standing here, looking down at the shell of what had once been one of the people that I loved more than anything else. And that was the issue now; that love was not past-tense. I still loved Emily with all my heart, but I loved the Emily that taught me to tie my shoes. I loved the Emily that helped me with my English and corrected me when I mispronounced a word or jumbled things. This thing, no matter the resemblance, was not Emily.
I brought my hand up in front of me, extending it towards the little creature. The zombie tilted its head and now regarded my hand much like Timmy had done with the fire bomb. I raised it and lowered it slowly. Sure enough, the zombie’s gaze locked on to it and followed enough so that its head rose and fell in sync with my movements.
In a flash, I tore my machete free from my hip and swung it down hard. It cleaved through the skull fairly easily like was always the case with the older zombies. Black ooze dribbled down its face as it dropped to the ground in a heap. Two things happened at almost exactly the same instance. First, and most important to me, that thing on the ground no longer looked like anything other than an old weathered corpse. Second, that little herd all snapped out of whatever trance they were in and started for me.
“Yeah…I kinda thought that would happen,” I sighed.
I turned and started jogging down the gradual slope a ways, my eyes searching for the right spot. At last I found what I was looking for; off to the right was a small rocky outcropping about fifteen or twenty feet up the very steep incline. I put on a burst of speed and hit the hill going almost full tilt. I had to scramble and almost crawl to make it up. If I would have lost my footing even once, then I would need to abandon this location and look for another. Luck was with me.
I reached the flat rock that jutted from the side of the hill like a giant Frisbee that had been hurled and gotten stuck. I stood up and was about to dust myself off out of habit when I noticed several of the cats beginning to detach from the zombie children. While the undead would not have a snowball’s chance in reaching me, those cats were a very different story.
I knelt, and realized that I didn’t have anything that I could actually light and keep burning so that I could light my little fire bomb. That was a stupid mistake.
I stuffed the small box back in my pouch and considered my options. If I slid down now, I might still be ahead of the pack, but it would be close…and then there were the cats. I had no choice. I had to go up.
Turning, I looked for the best possible route. About fifty feet from where I was currently standing was the first of the shabby little pine trees that was in a fight to defy gravity and rocky ground as it jutted out defiantly from the near vertical incline.
I started up, taking the time to glance over my shoulder once at my pursuers. The group was stopping now and massing directly below me. Fortunately, the cats seemed content to drift around the legs of their monstrous companions. I returned my attention to the task at hand which was climbing this little rock wall. I reached the tree and gave it a good tug to make sure it would not just rip free when I pulled myself up. It looked like all it would need was a stiff breeze to remove it from its precarious perch, but surprisingly enough, it was rooted firmly in place.