Nina.
“Did you hear something?”
I look up at the others.
Night has fallen, but we
’ve had to keep on going regardless. It’s too dangerous to stop. Hell, it’s too dangerous to keep going, but we don’t have much choice.
The path eventually le
ads into the forest, regardless of Mikey’s arguments against going into it. The choice is, however, taken out of his hands since that’s the way we have to go now. I can almost see the glee on Emily’s face, though she tries to hide it. Almost. As we enter the forest and find it teeming with hungry deaders and have to fight, Mikey gets the upper hand with a roll of his eyes and a very loud
I told you so
. I can’t blame him, really, but I wish they’d both stop being assholes. This whole tit-for-tat thing is beginning to drive me nuts.
Now, w
e all stand silent in the dark forest, looking into the blackness surrounding us. None of us moves; the only thing stirring is the rapidly falling snow. My knees tremble from cold and exertion, my fingers long since numb and useless, yet they still cling onto my weapon for dear life—though what could I could actually do with numb hands, I’m not sure. Dean had managed to find hats for us all, but only one set of gloves for some reason.
Minutes pass before Alek breaks the silence in a hushed whisper. “I can
’t hear anything.”
“I can
’t see anything either,” Emily pipes up.
Mikey shrugs his agreement and I want to snap that th
ey sound like the three monkeys: hear no evil, speak no evil, see no evil.
“I definitely heard something,
” I whisper instead.
“Let
’s keep going. Keep your eyes everywhere. It can’t be much further.” Mikey says this, but he doesn’t sound like he believes it himself. Or maybe it’s the chattering of his teeth that leads to my lack of belief in his words.
We
keep going, watching every angle we can. But as I said, it’s cold, dark, and we’re exhausted. The snow has been falling for hours, covering the land in a thick layer of cold fluff. The moon reflects back off the white forest, offering us only the reflection of light to go by. It’s getting stupid and reckless, but to try and light a torch or use a flashlight to help guide us through the wilderness would be just as careless.
My feet
are sore. I know that blisters have formed under both feet, and with each toe-numbing step, I grit my teeth. I regret us leaving Dean and Anne and their deader-free town now—regret it with every cold-numbed bone in my body—even though I understand why we have to do this. I know why we left, and the reasons are moral and just, but I can’t help but wonder if that decision could be the death of all of us.
The moon is h
eavy and swollen above us, glowing down like a beacon of hope, but everywhere we look there is more snow, more trees, and no way out. A couple more miles pass, and our steps are minute. Emily is staggering and clinging onto Alek, and I’m close to giving up too. I literally don’t think I’m going to be physically able to walk much further. I can hear things in the dark, things that aren’t us, but they sound far away, distant almost.
“We need to stop, Mikey.”
“We can’t. We’re nearly there.”
“You don
’t know that. We’ve been traipsing through these stupid trees for hours. We need to stop. Even if two of us stay awake to keep watch while the other two sleep.” I touch his arm to get him to slow. “We need to rest.”
“Nina, we have to keep on moving. Once we get there…”
“What? Once we get there what? Anything could be there—anyone could be there.” I pull him gently to a stop. “If there are people there, we might not be welcomed with open arms, looking half dead.” I hadn’t meant the pun, but I’ll take the bad joke on the chin.
Mikey looks away. “I only
want to keep you all safe.”
“And you will, by letting us rest.” I look up into the trees. “Mikey.”
“Fine.”
“No seriously, Mikey.” I point up into the trees.
“Okay, but I’ll take first watch. You can all rest.”
“Mikey.
” I grab his chin and tilt his face to the sky. “What the fuck is that?” I point up into the trees again.
He looks up, squinting into the darkness. “It looks like a deader.” He puts a hand to his eyes to shield them from the snow
that falls. “It’s a trap, with a deader in it.” He pulls his sword to the front of him, ready to take on this new danger, turning and staring all about him.
I do the same,
my heart immediately kicking into gear. I see Alek let go of Emily and do the same thing with his weapon. Emily seems too exhausted to do anything but look frightened, and she cowers behind Alek.
“What is it?” Alek asks, looking
up to where Mikey had. “Is that a deader?” he asks incredulously.
“Yes.” Mikey points further into the trees. “There
’s another one.”
As we squint into the darkness, more of them become clear. Deaders are strung up
in nets, like fish that have been caught. They don’t move much, and every once in a while you can hear them growl slightly, but never with much conviction. I wonder if the cold is freezing them. It sure as hell won’t kill them—only something through the brain can kill them. But if the cold can freeze them, make them easier to fight, then perhaps the winter could be our ally after all. My heart leaps. Or maybe it doesn’t mean shit and they just can’t smell us down here and that’s why they don’t seem too bothered by us.
“Let
’s keep going. Keep your eyes and ears aware. Those are traps. Fucking deaders have been captured intentionally for whatever reason,” Mikey snarls out through gritted teeth, the cold making his breath come out of his nose and mouth like smoke from a dragon.
“Why would someone do that?” Emily asks, her voice quavering. Or maybe it
’s her jaw trembling through the cold.
“I have no idea,
” Mikey replies. “It could be protection for them, it could be to warn off intruders.”
We keep on walking, the light growls from the dea
ders more apparent now that we’re aware of them. The sound travels through the night, making them sound less like the angry monsters we have come to know and hate and more full of angst and pain. They sound more human than I have ever heard them, and for a moment I wonder if they feel pain, and if that pain is hunger or sorrow, a physical or a mental state. I shake the thoughts away; the last thing I need is to think of them as human. I need to remember what they are now, not what they were.
A creak to my left mak
es me stop and stare into the blackness again. “Did anyone else hear that?” I whisper out. Another creak sounds to the left of me.
No one has
a chance to reply, though, as the ground suddenly gives way beneath us and we tumble downward into a black hole. I try not to scream, really I do, but it’s kinda hard when you’re falling into blackness with no idea what’s below.
We land with a crash, mud,
leaves, and things that smell really bad covering us all as we flounder around in the dark and try to make sense of our surroundings.
What the hell just happened?
“Nina!” Emily sobs.
“Emily!” Alek shouts.
I stumble to my knees, my feet struggling to contend with the slippery ground underneath me. I
’m ankle deep in mud and rainwater, making it hard to move. I don’t know where my machete is—I’ve lost it in the fall down. My backpack is still on my back, though; at least I haven’t lost that. Mikey is silent—I have no idea where he is in this black void. I’m about to call to Emily to let her know that I’m okay when I hear the worst sound in the world, the sound that pierces my brain and makes me shut the hell up before I make a huge mistake.
In a
pitch-black world, with no weapon in hand, I hear the growl of a hungry deader.
“Nina!” Emily
yells, her sobs getting louder. I’m not sure if she’s crying because she’s worried I might not be okay, or in fear because she just heard the same sound that I did.
I listen carefully for it again, finally hearing the growl somewhere
in front of me. I shuffle my backpack off and fumble with the zipper for a couple of seconds until my hand lands on a small carving knife and the flashlight Dean gave us. I slide the backpack onto my shoulders again, ready myself with the knife, and point my flashlight straight ahead of me.
I count to three, the sounds of Emily crying, Alek telling her to calm down
, and the splash and groan of a hungry deader fading away as I ready myself.
One, two, three…
I switch it on, and the hole that we are in is illuminated into an unreal yellow glow. The rotting deader is momentarily distracted by the light and turns to meet my gaze. It heads toward me without a second zombie thought, not realizing how close it actually was to both Emily and an unconscious Mikey. Most of its mouth has rotted away, revealing a snarling set of black teeth. It comes toward me, snapping its jaws, and I hold my breath and slash forward with my right arm when it gets too close. I skim its face, missing the spot that I wanted—the forehead right through to the brain—yet manage to peel back more of the skin from its face so that it hangs down from its cheek like a flap of moldy cheese.
It reaches for me
again, simultaneously grabbing hold of my sleeve and pulling me with its inhuman strength toward its mouth. I cry out, not being able to pull my right arm free from its grip. Its bony fingers dig into my arms as it continues to tug me forward. I thrash around wildly, falling backwards with muddy water splashing up around me as the deader lands on top of me.
I scream and kick out at it, grasping onto the bottom of its jaw with every ounce of strength
I have to stop it from biting me while its hands continue to tear at my clothes and skin. My other hand claws back in a mirroring attempt to get it off me. A strangling, gurgling sound comes from the back of its throat as its putrid breath washes over my face. The smell of my blood spurs it on and it growls louder. The flashlight has disappeared somewhere, but residual light shines above us. Mikey comes into view. A large gash covers one side of his face, blood pouring from the open wound and mixing with mud. In his hand is a branch, and with it he begins to smash in the deader’s brains.
The deader
’s skull explodes around me, skull, brains, and gore covering my face and hands. My grip loosens on the deader as I struggle to hold it in place. I cry out, still gripping onto the jaw tightly, still feeling its breath close to my throat, so close to killing me.
“Nin
a.” Mikey’s voice is next to me; but I can’t let go, I can’t release the tension that is coiled up inside of me, the fear trembling along every nerve path that I have.
“Nina.” His voice again. I sob louder, still squeezing with my hand. Still holding back the jaws of death.
His hand is suddenly on mine, releasing the rotted piece of bone and flesh from my hand, and then he pulls me into his arms and I tremble and sob.
“Emily.” I push away from Mikey, reaching for the glow of my flashlight, half submerged in mud. My fingers touch on spongy sunken flesh and I brush whatever limb it is away and gr
ip on tight to my light. “Emily,” I call out again.
“I
’m here, I’m here.”
I shine the light and see her cowering into Alek
’s chest. He has his own tree branch to defend them both, and I wonder why I hadn’t fared so lucky in the ‘finding a weapon as soon as you fall’ game.
“Are you okay?” I ask
, my light dancing around us.
“I think so,” s
he whispers back. “Where are we?”
“It
’s another trap,” Alek says. I shine the light for him as he feels around in his own backpack for his flashlight, finally finding it and switching it on.
The hole must be around… “Mikey, how big is this thing?” I ask.
“It’s roughly six feet by four feet, and maybe,” he reaches up, “nine feet high.” He claws at the wet sides of the hole, trying to clamber up the sides, but after a couple of small steps up, he loses his grip and slides back down, bringing mud with him. “Alek, give me a lift up.”
Alek comes
toward Mikey, leading Emily to me. She wraps her arms around my waist and hugs me close. I’ve never been the huggy type, but I think I need this as much as she does right now. Alek helps push Mikey up the side. He manages to reach the edge of the hole, but again he loses his grip on the loose soil, the sides beginning to crumble away.
I would have thought by now that the ground would have frozen solid and this wouldn
’t be that hard to do, but clearly, under the cover of the trees and with deaders rotting away, the soil hasn’t managed to freeze. We did have a lot of rain the last couple of weeks, and the snow has only really been falling this last week, I guess.
“Maybe if we get Emily out. S
he’s lighter, she’ll be easier to push up the last bit. She could find something to help get us out,” Mikey suggests.
Emily hugs me tighter, whimpering. Normally I would have told her to stop being such a girl, but we don
’t know what’s out there, and if we’re honest, she wouldn’t have the strength to pull any of us out of this hole if all she can find is a long branch.
“No, she can
’t do that,” I say firmly.
Mikey doesn
’t argue, but continues to climb the side, bringing more of the soil away with him.
“This is stupid. I can
’t get a good grip, there’s no roots for me to hold onto,” a winded Mikey says.
I shine my light in his direction, seeing the blood still trickling from his wound.
“We need to clean that up,” I say, handing a shaking Emily over to Alek.
The temperature has dro
pped even more now, our breath clinging to the air like smoke bombs every time we speak.
Mikey rubs a hand at his face and then looks at the blood on his fingers. “I
’ll be fine. It’s just a scratch.”
“Well
, scratch or not, it’s bleeding, and that means it could attract deaders,” I say wearily. I don’t have the strength to argue with him now, and hope that he relents quickly.
“Fine,” h
e snaps.
I pull out a pair of the socks from my backpack and dab them on the wound, soaking up the blood. He
’s right, thankfully: it is just a scratch, but it’s deep. Shouldn’t need stitches, but it’ll take a while to heal. I want to crack a joke about us having matching war wounds, but he doesn’t seem in the right frame of mind for jokes. Who am I kidding? Neither am I.
I grab a Band-Aid fro
m the first aid pack and press it along the wound once it’s relatively clean. I say relatively because we’re in a hole filled with deader gore and mud—there’s only so clean I can get it. I just hope it doesn’t get infected.
“So
what do we do?” I ask quietly, not wanting to worry Emily any more than I have to.
Mikey shrugs. “I don
’t know. I guess maybe we wait until it starts getting light. We’ll have a better chance of seeing what we’re up against then. I think I’m doing more harm than good if I keep trying right now. The sides are coming away under my hands. If the temperature keeps dropping, it could freeze and make it easier to get out.”
I nod. “Seems like a plan. I don
’t like it, but it’s the only one we have.”
“Are you
okay?” he asks.
I nod a yes
and turn away before he sees my lie, and pack everything away in my backpack. We find our weapons, grateful that none of them broke when we fell, and we huddle up together to keep warm.
“I
’ll stay awake, you all try to sleep,” Mikey says.
I don
’t think I’ll be able to sleep—not here, not like this, not with the fear of whoever set this trap coming back and finding us in it rolling around my head, and certainly not with the thought that another deader might shamble upon our muddy prison and fall in on top of us. No, there’s no way I’ll be able to sleep, I think. But then exhaustion crushes down on me, my body suddenly bone weary and my muscles throbbing to relax. My stomach rumbles with hunger but sleep wins and I drift off, clutching onto Emily and feeling Mikey next to me.
*
“Heads up,” I whisper, and nudge Mikey and the others.
One by one, they stir and
wake. I put a finger to my lips and hush them before they speak. We listen to the stumbling steps of a deader nearby, the gurgle and groan it lets out. The steps falter and stop, the gurgle and hiss from the back of its throat still loud, though. One of us was supposed to stay awake at all times, but somewhere in this horrible night, we have all fallen asleep. Thank God I woke up when I did.
I clutch my machete tightly as the steps
pick up again, thankfully moving away from us. Minutes pass before anyone dares to speak, and even then it’s with hushed voices. The sun has only just risen, casting weird shadows into our muddy prison.
“I
’m freezing.” Emily blows on her hands to warm them.
“I know,
” I whisper back, standing. My ass is numb from cold and probably from sitting in sloppy mud for most of the night. My pants cling to my legs, and I shake them out to work some heat back into them. I turn and look at the others. “Shit.”
“What?” Mikey tries to sta
nd abruptly, but his ass is frozen and it takes him a minute to get fully upright.
“You all look like shit,” I say. And they do—
that’s not me trying to be funny or trying to be mean; I’m just saying it as it is.
“Not looking too hot yourself,
” Emily grumbles, standing up with help from Alek.
She
’s right, of course. But I don’t have to look at me. I can feel the mud in my hair and coating my face. I’m actually grateful that I don’t have a mirror. Mikey has already started to try and climb back out, and though the walls of the mud hole we’re in have frozen, it’s just as impossible to climb out of as it was last night.
“Alek
, give me a boost again,” Mikey asks.
“Wait. What
’s that?” Emily freezes in her movements as she says it, her head cocked to one side, listening for the sound she heard. “Is that footsteps?” she whispers.
It sounds like
deaders are on their way, lots of them by the sound of it.
“Ready yourself,
” I whisper, holding my machete tightly again.
One by one we nod to confirm that we are indeed ready, but really, none of us are. We
’re never ready to look death in the face.
As the footsteps get louder
and my heart rate picks up, a low sheen showing on my forehead despite the cold, Alek reaches down and picks up what looks like a large chunk of dirt. The sun is still rising, so it’s not quite high enough to allow for much of a visual as shadows group at the top of the hole.
I hear a gun cock a second too lat
e. Lucky for us, Alek was way ahead of me and launches his chunk of dirt at whatever is at the top of the hole. A loud
thump
sounds and then a body comes sprawling into the hole with a splash and an
umph
as the air is knocked out of their lungs.
“Want any more?” Alek shouts up to whoever is there, pulling his samurai out a
nd waving it around menacingly—though there really isn’t enough room for that type of weapon down here.
“
Holy shit. He just hit James!” a male voice shouts out loudly.
“Oh my god, James, Jam
es, is he okay? Do not hurt him,” a female voice yells into the hole.
I can see the shadow of people leaning over and looking down at us, but the angle of the sun prevents me from seeing faces. Alek and Mikey already have James on his knees, though I can
’t tell if he’s unconscious or dead…hopefully not dead.
“Throw a
rope down and we won’t have to,” Mikey yells up.
“Okay, okay.” The female voice a
gain. “Get the damn rope now!” she whispers to whoever else is up there. “Is he all right? Is he breathing?” she calls down to us.
“Just get us the rope,
and we’ll worry about him later,” Alek shouts up.
I look at him, seeing once again the cruel
, hard man that he actually is, despite his young age. A rope is thrown down, with knots at several junctions to make it easier to climb.
“
We’ll send the women up first. If anything happens to any of them, I’ll slit his fucking throat. Do you understand?” Mikey bellows up. “Nina, you good to go first?”
“Yes, of course.” I
nod and shrug my backpack on, slipping my machete into the top of the bag—ready for me to grab at a moment’s notice, but freeing my hands up to climb. “Em, you come up straight after me.”