Zombies could walk miles and miles in your general direction until they found you. A loud, meaty target like the convoy would keep a herd of stiffs in pursuit until their legs rotted or froze off.
There was nothing on either side of us but trees, power lines, and a house or two. Up ahead, the trees gave way to buildings. As we got closer to these structures, my gut tightened.
I heard the screams first. I knew they were women. The high, lilting tones reminded me of Monroe and that fucked up church in Startup. Our paced slowed, but we pressed on. There was no other way but forward.
We kept to the right side of the road. A large wood sign told me the shrieks came from a Baptist church. The yard and parking lot around it was filled with cars and trucks who passed by the house we’d holed up in. All vehicles appeared to be empty.
Alive inside. Help and be helped,
another sign on the side of the church read. The banner looked old and faded. It was a sheet, I realized, with black painted letters. I’d never seen one like that before. Help and be helped? I saw plenty of signs seeking aid but none offering it.
Beau’s expression remained neutral. We both knew something bad was going on.
“There must be guns in those trucks,” Beau said.
Now
that
I didn’t expect to be true, but I agreed. Would the raiders really leave their weapons behind? A quick look wouldn’t hurt, though. However, someone would probably be guarding their vehicles, so we crouched and watched the scene. There wasn’t an inkling of movement anywhere. Their mistake was our gain.
Mind you, there were a lot of places a guard could hide. In the backs of the covered military vehicles, or in the backseats of any of the cars. A handful of them could still be waiting, expecting someone like Beau and I to fall in their trap. Were crazies smart enough to think that far ahead? Idiots with power rarely had the foresight to imagine others would undermine them.
But having guns and ammo was such a tantalizing promise, I couldn’t resist. Most of the snafus I’d been in recently wouldn’t have gone the same way if I did. We had to act fast.
“Let’s hit the humvees first,” I said, jogging towards the closest camo covered vehicle.
Another onslaught of terrible screams reached a crescendo within the church. Shouts sounded, but I couldn’t make out words. The double front doors remained shut, and I hoped they’d stay that way until we were done.
Since I had the carbine, Beau quietly opened the humvee door. I kept my back to him, hoping he’d do a thorough search without me. Seconds later, he grunted in triumph. I turned my head to see why, keeping my body towards the church.
He held a 9mm Luger, which he inspected before clicking the safety on then shoving it into his coat pocket. My cursory glance at the front seat revealed a brick of ammo.
“Looks unopened. 60 rounds,” he informed me. “There’s a shotgun back here. I think we should take it and run. The raiders won’t stay in there forever.”
“I agree. Hurry up.”
In my world, good luck usually precedes a fuck load of bad luck. As Beau’s feet touched snow, the church doors burst open.
The girl had been skinny before, I could tell, but the apocalypse had turned her skeletal. Blood stained ribs showed through a gaping tear in her shirt. Her bony limbs should’ve belonged to a Z. Red dribbled from slashes in her legs and arms. She sobbed as she stumbled, half naked, through the snow.
Battered men and women flooded from the church doors. But some of them were zombies. A handful of runners pounced on the weakest among the living, taking them down in a flurry of claws and teeth. A boy ambushed an older woman. I watched in fascination as arterial blood sprayed onto pristine snow.
A roar of automatic gunfire spewed from the church. Bullets connected with flesh, hammering living and undead with metal. People dropped to the snow, while the dead remained unfazed and continued to attack.
Most of the women, and some men, were naked or almost naked, confirming my rape theory. The convoy stopped to do what they did best, and one of them went too far, killing their victim. All it took was one runner to start a chain reaction.
The whole scene was tragic, sure, but no one had noticed us yet.
I turned to run towards the street, but Beau grabbed me by the shoulder.
“It’s Don.”
“Who? What the hell are you talking about?”
Amid the bloody chaos unfolding in front of the church, Beau pointed to one plain man rocking back and forth on the ground.
“Don! The guy I left behind!”
…
but if I could relive the situation I might do it differently.
Impossible. Don. Don and Claire with the dead baby. It was
that
Don.
“Leave him! Beau, you’re going to fuck things up if yo—”
Logic left Beau. I almost followed him, before I realized running through that was suicide. I watched in amazement as he made a wide arc around the carnage, towards a man he had a second chance to save. Towards a big mistake.
A grizzled man, missing an arm and most of his intestines, stumbled from the group and focused his attention on Beau. Ever noble Buford Wright didn’t see the Z coming. I had to do something. I still needed him. Though I thought about abandoning him before, I wanted it to be on my terms, when I was ready.
I hadn’t fired the rifle in days. I raised it up, gathered the undead in my sight, exhaled, and squeezed the trigger.
It wasn’t a headshot, but it did the job. My bullet hit the runner’s shoulder and knocked him off balance. He tumbled to the ground, getting up a moment later. It caught Beau’s attention. He turned and raised his shotgun, obliterating the zombie’s head.
That’s my good deed for the day
.
“Please, help!”
Almost ten feet away from me stood the same young girl who ran out of the church first. Her blonde hair hung in a scraggly mess, partially covering blue eyes that shone despite the blood staining her face. I wondered how she got so close without me noticing.
A tiny boy, younger than the one I saw before, came out of nowhere and sank his teeth into her calf. She fell to her knees with a howl, slapping at the toddler. She looked up at me, and I greeted her with a bullet to the head, saving her in my own way.
Beau was out of sight and so was Don. The fight moved towards me. There was only one thing left to do: run.
I didn’t risk looking behind me as I weaved around cars, making my way back to the main road. I glanced into vehicles as I passed, but there were no other weapons in plain view.
I kept moving, even though my lungs were on fire and my throat felt unbearably tight. I wasn’t sure if the undead or living were winning. The mix of ragged zombie screams and booming gunshots seemed about even. An image of the girl I just shot flashed through my mind. It was a mercy killing, but it felt like murder. I wasn’t sure why.
Up ahead was a four way stop. If I turned left, I could loop around, come to the area where I last spotted Beau, and try to save him. However, if I went straight, I’d be headed in the direction of the island.
Beau planned on using a plane or boat to get to Samish Island. How bad off would I be if I took my chances and went alone? I did know the route, after studying the map so many times. I didn’t
need
Beau, but it would make things easier.
My body decided before my mind did. I veered to the left. A small hill blocked off my view of the battle, but gunshots seemed to drown out the shrill cries of the undead. The convoy might be winning, so I had to be fast.
I spotted a semi surrounded by three large trucks. The back of it was open, and raiders pushed frightened survivors inside. Twenty feet away, Don struggled against two men. Beau laid face down, unmoving in the snow.
Is he dead?
As I came for Beau, one of the men got Don into a sleeper hold and the other noticed me. I stood completely in the open, since there were barely any trees or cars for cover. I bent down, getting ready to grab Beau, when the crazy bolted towards me.
“We got a healthy one over here!”
A burly lumberjack heard his comrade and joined the pursuit. I raised my rifle then squeezed the trigger, but it gave a dry click. Dropping the weapon, I tried to take up a defensive position, but it was too late. Lumberjack barreled into me and knocked me onto my back. He must’ve weighed 300 pounds. The wind went from my lungs as I was crushed.
“Get him into the truck!”
I wiggled one arm free and punched him in the jaw. His beard was so big it seemed to absorb the damage. I did it again, but it didn’t faze him. Lumberjack pushed off me, and his friend delivered a kick to my side. Then another.
They closed in on me, but I scurried backwards, grateful my clothes and gloves protected me from the freezing snow. As Lumberjack came closer again, I took advantage of my position and kicked him in the stomach before scrambling to my feet. He grunted and swayed, but didn’t fall to the ground.
“We’re gonna eat you up, ya little fucker,” he growled.
I couldn’t take the two of them. They looked well fed and on the crazy side. The only thing I could do was turn and run, so I did.
That’s when a bullet grazed my leg. A spray of blood splashed across the snow. The pain brought me to my knees.
Hands grabbed me from behind, hauling me back to the truck. I struggled, but Lumberjack and his friend hit me in the head and kicked my midsection. My leg was on fire, pain coursing down to my foot and up into my hip.
“This one has red hair,” one of them said. “Put him in the food truck and save ‘im for Him!”
Black spots darkened my vision. I felt weak. I’d vomit from the pain if I didn’t pass out first. Lumberjack and his friend lifted me up into the truck. My face hit the wood bed with a loud thud. The door slid shut.
Before I fell into unconscious bliss, I thought again of how fucking bad I needed to dye my hair.
Chapter 15
Women were crying. No, not quite. They were weeping. It reminded me of my grandmother sobbing when my sister did something bad. A regret filled,
I knew this would happen
sort of sound.
My cheek rested in a thin layer of liquid. The smell was bad—a combination of blood and urine. I stopped trying to analyze after that. After pushing myself up, I opened my eyes. Others were pressed tight against me, and I bumped into outstretched legs.
“Is he dead? Is he going to turn?”
My head swam and my leg throbbed. The bullet wound hurt like a bitch. I needed to cauterize it or stitch it or at least sanitize it. Bullet wounds couldn’t go untreated.
A memory of Blaze putting iodine on my wounds flashed through my mind. Seeing her dog tags—her real name,
Beatrice
—and the smooth skin on her chest. Even the pungent scent of cigarettes was crisp.
“Someone check and see if he is dead!”
“I’m not dead,” I groaned. “Can you all just shut up?”
I opened my eyes. The faces blurred together, but then I saw him.
“Don, come here.”
“W-what? Are you talking to me?”
“I’m looking at you, aren’t I?”
He squeezed between the bodies, moving closer to me.
“Save the questions because I’m not interested in answering them. I’m a friend of Beau’s.”
“Who?”
“
Buford
. Nice kid who tried to save you a while back. Remember him?”
Don nodded.
“Did you see him? Was he killed?”
His eyes watered. He nodded again. “I saw him. But he isn’t dead. They took him in a different truck.”
It took a second to grasp what he said. I felt rage and anxiety coming on, but pushed them away. It was what it was. Beau was gone. I sat in the back of a
meat
truck with too many other people, no supplies, a bleeding wound, and a meek motherfucker who didn’t know he was on my bad list.
“Okay.” I ran my tongue around my mouth, desperately needing to work up some saliva, but my prodding was futile. “Does anyone know where we’re going?”
The crying continued. Wind rushed through the truck from a small opening in the camo covered back. Thirty or more people were packed in here and none of them said a word. Some of them held others for comfort. Two older women stripped off extra clothes to help cover a near naked girl.
“They’re taking us to their camp. That’s what I’ve heard them say, at least.” The voice came from a middle aged woman with a heap of frizzy brown hair and cracked glasses. “They caught me in Snohomish, so I’ve been with them quite a while.”
“Caught you?”
“Yeah, just like the rest of us. If they see signs of survivors, they’ll get you. They broke into my house. Tore the boards off the windows and took me and my two sons. If they don’t catch you that way, they’ll lure you out by acting friendly. Sometimes they get their megaphone out and drive up and down streets, pretending they’re everyone’s savior. Trust me, these people know what they’re doing. Dumb as bricks, but resourceful.”
I suppose that sort of thing was inevitable. If enough crazies got together and decided they had a mission, no one was going to be able to stop them. In this case safety
was
in numbers. The town of Sultan was the opposite of the convoy. They were sane, rational, and wanted to help everyone. They put together a chain of command and established reason. I’d never know for sure, but I bet they were still alive and kicking.
“What happens once we get there?”
“Probably what’s happening now!” The man who said it had a vicious glint in his eyes. He had delicate features underneath the dirt on his face. “They’re going to rape and eat us! Torture us. Let those
things
eat the ones who aren’t good enough for rape or food. They get off on seeing it happen.”
“Shut up, Jim,” Frizzy Hair said. “But he is right. Nothing good is going to happen.”
“Have you tried to escape?” I asked.
She clenched her jaw and stared at me before answering. “Of course we have. But they have weapons, we don’t. They’re fed and we’re starving. We’re terrified, abused, and on the verge of dying.
They aren’t
. The only thing we have against them is numbers, and that doesn’t do any good, all things considered.”