He screamed his plea for help louder. A mistake. Soon I heard a zombie approach, then his hands jerked from sight. A ragged scream preceded a drawn out, gurgling death sigh.
I pressed forward. I didn’t need to see what was going on behind the fence to know, but it didn’t matter. I couldn’t help even if I wanted to. Besides, I wasn’t in the mood to backtrack.
Hot blood poured into the tiny ditch the guy had created, steam rising up from it.
I skirted it as quietly as I could, even though I knew the undead behind the fence would be too distracted to try and come after me.
Moaning and loud tearing made me cringe. I imagined three or four zombies pulling the guy in half.
I’ve seen that in a movie before, haven’t I?
While I tried to remember what movie a torso-rip happened in, I drew closer to the encampment. Behind me, the sounds of the man being eaten slowly faded, but were replaced by a soft whimpering.
I rounded the sharp corner of the fence and found a wooden segment. Small gaps between each slat showed a figure standing behind it.
I would’ve kept walking, but it was the best place I’d found to try and climb over. Pieces of wood were nailed horizontally to the vertical posts. I could easily use these to boost myself up.
“Eddy, is that you?”
“Ah, no,” I replied awkwardly. “But I’m not here to hurt you.”
It was a woman about my age. She leaned close and peered at me through the slats. I stepped to the side, getting a quick glance of what was behind her. She was wedged between a shanty and the fence.
“He said he’d come to get me. That we’d leave,” she whispered.
This shanty roof was only inches above the fence. Once I got up there, if the roof was stable, I’d climb onto it. Good plan. If I crawled to the other side, I’d be able to get a layout of the town, and—
“Will
you
save me?” Her voice escalated since I hadn’t responded
“Shhh! Quiet. They’ll hear you.”
If it wasn’t for her, it would’ve been perfect. She pushed her bloody fingers through the fence, reaching for me. I finally focused on her, and our gazes connected.
“Please, help me.”
Like I haven’t heard that one before
.
“Just be quiet, okay?”
“Help me,” she said, but her tone took on an aggressive, deeper tone. “Or I’ll scream so loud every living
or
dead person will come running.”
If there was one thing I didn’t stand for anymore it was being played. “So? I just watched a guy get eaten.”
Nearby, maybe only two shanties away, clattering sounded, like pots clanking against one another. Both of us stopped speaking, but once no further noises came she continued.
“I don’t know you,” she said, wiggling her fingers and squinting. “Who are you?”
I didn’t reply and she didn’t seem to care, because she confessed to me anyway.
“Minister Encler hid the keys to the gate three days ago. Some of us got away right after the dead took over, but then the storm came. Fence’s too slippery to get over, too many of
them
. People are coming out of their hiding spots to try again. Eddy…”
“Fine, I got it. Why didn’t you just climb over and escape yourself?”
“My arm is…hurt”
That was an immediate red flag. Usually when someone said ‘hurt,’ it meant they’d been bitten. It was painfully predictable. But if I didn’t help her, she’d give me away. I decided not to think of it as her playing me. We’d earn mutual benefits from the deal.
“I’m going to come over. Just get up one or two planks and I’ll pull you up.”
I holstered my gun and, despite the pain in my leg, got to the top and straddled the fence. Over the roof of the shanty, two more shabby buildings came into view, and beyond that an open courtyard. Bodies were strewn around and the Zs shambling to them.
I bent down, pressing my stomach into the edge of the fence. The girl did as I said, awkwardly maneuvering until she reached her good arm up and grasped my hand. She was already cold and sweaty. She weighed next to nothing, and even in my weakened state I was able to help haul her up.
She mirrored my position, wobbling to keep her balance. I didn’t wait for a thank you, but instead brought my other leg over, getting ready to climb onto the shanty roof.
As I set one knee onto the roof, I heard her gasp. She must’ve lost her balance. She hurdled toward me, head connecting with the roof, which made her neck twist at an odd angle. She fell back into the narrow alley, her impact sending out a loud, echoing bang.
The howl of a runner preceded a chorus of groans.
That’s what I get for trying to help someone. As usual.
“Eddy?”
I was surprised she wasn’t dead, but I wasn’t going to stick around. I pushed myself off the fence and spread my weight evenly over the tin roof of the shanty.
Their vocalizations escalated. They must’ve seen her. I twisted until I could peek over the edge. Her body was completely paralyzed, but she blinked furiously and her lips quivered. She was looking beyond me, into the sky. I’d seen that look before, when someone knew it was the end.
A painfully thin runner darted into the alley and pounced on her. Blood sprayed the fence as the runner tore into her neck like a rabid dog feasting on its catch.
I shimmied up the slanted roof until I could see farther out. Sure enough, at least ten slows and a handful of runners were making their way from the courtyard I’d seen earlier.
Directly in front of me was another shanty, within jumping distance. While I waited for the Zs to clear away below, I reassessed the two story building and the area around it.
Each shanty was about fifteen to twenty feet wide and there were six to my left, spanning to the other side of the enclosure. The shanties were built to circle the two story, with a large expanse of space between the two. The second story was smaller than the first, creating a tower on the left side. The rest was flat roof. Three double doors and windows on the first story. A painted white cross on most of the doors.
I should’ve realized it was some type of church.
Veins of red traveled through the mud, and it took me a moment to realize this came from the church. Thinner, crimson paths trailed from the bodies strewn all around the courtyard. Blood from the initial slaughter three days ago, I imagined, mixed with storm water and today’s fresh kills. It trickled down the slight incline towards the beach.
I took a breath and shifted backwards, laying my cheek on my hand. The church was where I had to go. It had to be. Blaze was in a cage somewhere, according to that girl, and I doubted it was in one of the shanties. Where else would prisoners, especially a witch, be held captive?
The feast grew louder as more zombies gathered. I looked out again. No more came from the immediate area. Mentally cursing at every squeak my boots made against the roof, I crouched, then stood.
Another deep breath. I jumped to the next roof. My bad leg buckled and I came down to one knee. Ended up laying down. It wasn’t even a jump. More of a big step.
In the shanty underneath me I heard shuffling, but it stopped right away. Probably a living person, hiding and alarmed by noises on their roof.
I needed to speed up. I ejected the Glock’s clip and counted a total of 12 rounds, including one in the chamber. If I kept my calm, I could make it out of there on 12 shots. I’d been in worse situations before. I slammed the clip back.
My clothes were stiff from the cold. Little ice crystals brushed against my hand as I reached into my pocket and withdrew the bottle of Oxycodone Dr. Banks gave me. The traction on the fingertips of my gloves made pressing and turning the childproof cap easy. I took one and waited. It would take at least 10 minutes to kick in, so I wanted to give it a head start.
I felt the sharp edge of the locket box when I put the pills back. Dr. Banks would never know if I delivered it or not. Whether I delivered it or not wouldn’t make a difference. After seeing what a mess Fort Christian was, it was safe to assume her sister was dead.
I crawled to each side of the shanty to find the best way down, and found a lean-to built on one side. It didn’t look stable enough to hold my weight, but it would at least break some of the fall.
The feast quieted. It was only a matter of time before zombies began to disperse, making my goal a hell of a lot harder. With one deep breath, I sat on the edge of the roof, planted my feet on the lean-to, and climbed down. It protested at the weight, and as I dropped down I saw it was no more than a plank of wood propped up with two flimsy metal poles.
Getting out is going to be harder than getting in.
My body felt loose as the Oxy took effect. The pain in my leg fuzzed and I felt warmer.
I tightened my grip on the Glock and stayed towards the middle of the narrow streets, between the shanties. All of the windows and doors were cutouts without any coverings. Only some showed curtains, while most were gaping, black holes.
Feeling confident, I began walking faster, glancing down each alley as I went. I stayed away from the courtyard and got as close as I could to the church.
Drugged up and armed, I clenched my jaw and made a run for the double doors. Death followed right behind me, chasing my coattails.
Chapter 25
Hands grabbed at me. Mouths opened and closed, dripping bile and rot. Light from outside illuminated every fucked up sight in the congregation room, every zombie that wanted to eat me.
Me. The only living thing in sight.
The doors weren’t locked, but I wish they had been. The Plexiglas windows were spray painted white, so I couldn’t check inside before I entered. I might’ve tried to do things differently, had I been forced to reconsider my idiotic frontal assault.
Regrets were useless. There were at least twenty Zs in the room. Though there could’ve been more.
Most were near the back of the building, huddling together in their usual unspeaking, clueless horde. Some of the poor corpses were entangled in overturned chairs and tables. Others were maimed so badly that they could do no more than wiggle their torsos and snap their jaws.
And the smell? Every bodily fluid that can be produced by a human was plastered, splattered, or pooling on the walls and floor.
I wanted to puke, but couldn’t spare the time. A handful were close to the doors when I opened them. They lunged at me. The Oxy made my body feel good, but it didn’t help my aim. I fired a round into a teenage boy’s neck, knocking him back.
A burly older woman grabbed my arm, yanking me to her like I weighed nothing. Her bite would’ve broken skin, but my layers of soggy clothes gave me just enough protection. Lucky for me, the round I fired hit its mark. Gooey brain matter splattered onto the wall, blending into the collage of other fluids.
The boy came at me again. Over his shoulder, I saw another Z. Another teenage boy. A segment of femur had torn through his leg. The jagged whiteness was speckled with blood and pressed through ribbons of rotted flesh. His broken leg dragged behind him, his boot scraping against the wood floor.
Behind them was the only open door in the area. Inside the room beyond, a ladder reached up out of sight. Other than that, the area was small. I would’ve seen any undead lurking within. There were none, so instead of wasting bullets on the unmanageable horde, I burst past the two between me and the door, knocking them to the ground.
Shredded fingertips grazed me. I held my breath and hurdled into the room, pulling the door shut behind me. A zombie toddler got caught between the frame and wood just as I slammed it shut. His pudgy gray skin burst and thick blood oozed down the center of his face. I removed him with one swift kick, yanking the door shut completely.
A heavy wooden plank leaned against the wall to my right. I shoved my gun back in its holster and hefted the beam, dropping it into slots on either side of the door.
The thunderous pounding of fists against wood came a moment after.
I allowed myself a minute to catch my breath. A quick check assured me that the old woman’s bite hadn’t broken through. My pulse raced in time with the beating on the door. It was the only sound I could hear, and it threatened to overwhelm me.
The room was void of body parts. Only smears or small pools of blood marked anything out of place. In its center, a metal ladder went up to a closed wooden door. I brought my gun back out, but after two attempts of climbing one handed I gave up and stowed it again.
When I reached the top, I tried to listen for motion on the next level. Even if there were ten of them up there, I wouldn’t have heard it. The Zs outside were louder than ever. I could picture them pressing against each other as hard as they could, ignoring the existence of their fellow undead.
There was no latch or handle, but I pressed the entrance upward with the palm of my hand. It gave way then stopped, as though caught on something.
Loops of rope connected the top of the hatch to a metal ring fixed into the ground. I used my free hand and retrieved my knife, sawing at it until it broke free.
Now wasn’t the time to hesitate. I pushed it open completely, eyes darting about the room.
Three beams of light sliced through the darkness of the tower’s second story. The brightness filtered through shotgun holes in a wall opposite a gun jerry-rigged to the top of a desk.
I made it halfway through when something shifted in the tower.
Her midsection and most of her ribs were obliterated. I’d seen wounds like that before. The girl must have escaped the slaughter downstairs by going into the tower and tying the hatch shut. Living threats wouldn’t have been able to open it, runners would never have the patience to use their dexterity to climb the ladder, and slows were just too dumb. If it wasn’t for the knife, I wouldn’t have been able to force it open.
As for the bloody craters in her torso? She made it up, but tripped the shotgun trap. Too bad for her.
She wobbled over from the corner, fingers outstretched and grasping. I scrambled, sliding across a slick pool of blood as I crawled out of the way.