“Okay,” Amy said, glad to have a task to keep her mind off the horror that faced them outside.
She did as Alex asked, filling a bag for each of them with their clothes and personal things. It didn’t take long. Once she reached the top of the stairs, she spotted the gas lamps burning in the kitchen and living room. Even with the blacked-out windows, she didn’t want to take a chance at the light being spotted.
Amy ran downstairs and put out the lamp in the living room. Next, she went to the kitchen. The light stood next to the sink. She bent her head forward to look for the switch on the gas bottle, but it was too late. The window over the sink exploded into a gazillion pieces. Hands reached through the blinds and grabbed her by the hair.
Amy screamed as sharp nails shredded her scalp and grasping fingers clutched at her clothes and arms. She reached for the gun at her side but encountered nothing but cloth. Then she remembered. She’d taken off her gunbelt to relax on the couch. It had kept getting in the way. Her shotgun lay next to the coffee table. Both were useless to her now.
One zombie had her by the collar, and its grip was like iron. She reared backward, trying to pull free, but its hold was unbreakable. Vicious faces thrust through the opening, their teeth bared in anticipation of the feast to come. “Alex! Alex, help me!”
Amy kicked and punched with all her might, swatting at the many hands that reached for her. She twisted from side to side and pushed against the edge of the counter with every ounce of strength she possessed. It was no use. Bit by bit, she was being pulled toward the gaping maws of the infected.
Her heart hammered in her chest, so hard she feared it would break free from its bony cage. For the first time in her short life, she knew what it felt like to be a fly caught in a web.
Helpless.
Hopeless.
Waiting to be eaten.
Amy’s muscles weakened as fatigue set in, and her terrified screams filled the air. Then her frightened gaze fell upon the row of drawers next to the sink, and she yanked open the one at the top. Neat rows of cutlery met her eyes. “No, not that.”
She opened the second one and cried with relief. “Yes!”
Her fingers found the handle of a cleaver, and she chopped at the hand that held her collar. The blade cut deep, but the zombie didn’t let go. Amy kept at it, hacking away at the flesh until the bone was exposed. Even then, the infected refused to relinquish its grip, and she began to lose all hope. “Alex, please! Help me!”
Chapter 13 - Alex
After sending Amy on her errand, Alex unlocked the sliding door and crept outside. He pressed himself up against the wall and peered over the side of the balcony. As before, it was too dark to see, but he could clearly hear the mass of bodies jostling each other below. Now that he knew what he was listening to, it was easier to discern the different noises.
If it was the horde, they were doomed, and Alex prayed it was just a small group that had stumbled onto their safe house. But in truth, he knew better. No small group would be capable of pushing over the walls that bordered the property. They were too high and too thick, made of solid stone. In that regard, Saul had chosen well, although it now looked like even that wouldn’t help.
As he waited for another flash of lightning, Alex considered their options. They were limited. Even if they could open the garage and gates without being swarmed, it was unlikely they’d be able to drive through a mass of the undead. It’d be suicide.
They could try to hide. Wait it out. If the zombies didn’t know they were there, they might pass on. It was a huge risk, but the only way out that he could see.
The next moment, his hopes were dashed when he heard the sound of breaking glass followed by his sister’s terrified screams. “Alex! Alex, help me!”
Instantly, the crowd of zombies below went berserk. Amy’s cries acted like a current of electricity, galvanizing them into a frenzy.
Alex ran inside, not bothering to close the sliding door. It wouldn’t help anyway. The zombies knew they were there and would stop at nothing to get to them. He vaulted down the stairs, his feet barely touching the ground. It took only a second to assess the situation, and he knew he had to act fast.
Sprinting toward the living room, he scooped up Amy’s gunbelt and shotgun along with his rifle. Luckily, he still wore his sidearm, rarely taking it off even for the sake of comfort. All around him, glass exploded as more infected tried to claw their way inside.
Ignoring them for the moment, he ran to the kitchen. He reached Amy’s side within seconds and dropped her weapons onto the floor. “Amy, duck!”
Amy tried to obey. She dropped the cleaver and huddled into a ball with her head tucked between both arms. She was hampered by the grasping arms of the infected, but he couldn’t afford to wait.
Alex lifted his carbine and fired off a volley of shots, cutting a bloody swath through the faces that leered at them. They fell away, and Amy collapsed to the floor, freed at last. He hauled her to her feet. “Grab your guns and the lamp! We need to get to the basement.”
New faces replaced those in the window, and he released another barrage of bullets. They fell away in a spray of blood and brains, but there were more behind them. And more, and more, and more.
Their only hope was to get to the basement, and he prayed they could reach it in time. A quick glance showed him that Amy was on her feet and armed, a determined look on her face. “I’m ready.”
Alex nodded. “Go, I’ll cover you.”
He whirled around in time to see several more zombies crash into the living room. They were pouring in from every direction, a swarm of flesh-eating parasites bent on devouring everything in their path.
“It’s locked,” Amy shouted, her voice rising in a panic.
“Damn it. Check the board,” Alex replied.
He shot at the encroaching infected, fanning out his bullets as he retreated toward the basement. A couple fell, their heads blown away, but more kept coming. Those that passed through the hail of gunfire howled with rage and ran toward them with outstretched arms. He ducked around the island in the middle of the kitchen. “Hurry up, Amy!”
“I’m looking!”
“It’s a single key with a red tag,” Alex answered, taking down three more infected with quick shots.
“Um…let me see. I’ve got it. Come on,” Amy cried.
Alex risked a glance over his shoulder and spotted her silhouette framed in the open doorway of the basement. The lamp shone next to her feet like a beacon, and he ran toward it as fast as he could.
“Watch out!” Amy raised her shotgun and fired off a blast.
The buckshot whistled past his ear, so close he could feel the wind on his skin. A dull thud sounded, and a zombie collapsed right behind him. He twisted sideways and snapped off a couple of quick shots.
“Move it, Alex,” Amy said. “There’s too many of them.”
The infected pressed in from every side, the house a leaky sieve with no end in sight. Amy fired again, and two zombies crashed to the ground at the same time. For some reason, that struck her as funny, and she began to laugh hysterically. “Hey, look! A twofer!”
Alex ignored her and kept shooting, picking off the infected one after another. They piled up in a circle around them, tripping those that came next. That gave him a slight lead, and he closed the gap between him and the basement.
He finally reached Amy’s side, and she yanked him to safety. Two zombies filled the open doorway, and she fired her third and final round into their snarling faces. The blast obliterated their features, and she cried, “Shut it now!”
Alex lunged forward and slammed the door shut. With a deft twist, he engaged the lock. Immediately, the hammering of dozens of fists formed a steady beat in their ears. The infected screeched and howled like banshees, loud enough to burst an eardrum.
He pressed his back to the shuddering wood, arms braced against the walls on either side. “We need to barricade this door, or they’ll break it down. Look for something w
e can use.”
Amy nodded. “Okay, but we need more light.”
“Make it fast,” Alex said, his entire body straining to reinforce the door.
Amy grabbed the lamp and ran downstairs. She disappeared into the depths of the basement, leaving him alone in the dark.
Alex closed his eyes and concentrated on holding his position. Sweat burst free from his pores and ran down his face. The salt stung his eyes, and his breathing sounded harsh in his ears. He couldn’t believe what had happened, or how quickly it had all gone to hell. “I was so sure we were safe here. So certain we could ride out the infection. Tara was right. There is no riding this out. There’s only a cure, vaccine, or certain death.”
Moments later, Amy reappeared with a glowing lamp which she placed at the top of the stairs. Two more lit the basement below, allowing her freedom of movement. He noticed that her gun belt was once more secured around her waist, though she’d abandoned the now empty shotgun. “Good girl. She’s learning fast.”
Not that any amount of guns could help them now. The only thing they could do if the infected broke through the door was to end it before they were eaten alive. As hard as it would be to kill Amy, he knew he’d do it if it came to that. “I’m sorry, Mom. I know I promised to keep her safe, and I tried. I really tried.”
Amy returned moments later with a crate of canned goods. Her face was strained as she struggled to get the heavy package up the stairs. Her slim arms and legs trembled with the effort, but when he moved to help, she waved him away. “Hold the damn door, Alex. I’ve got this.”
Alex grinned. “Aye, aye, Captain!”
Amy levered the crate onto the landing and pushed it against the bottom of the door. She ran back for another, and another. By the time they had three stacked on top of each other, Alex was able to join her. Together, they created a wall of canned goods and bottled water. A couple of drums of fuel, a heavy toolbox, and some old furniture put the seal on their makeshift barricade.
“I think that’s enough,” Alex said, standing back to look at their handiwork. He wiped his hands on his jeans, heaving for breath. “I feel like a herd of elephants trampled me.”
Amy nodded, collapsing onto the nearest step. “You and me both.”
The hammering on the door had faded into the background, muffled by the barrier they’d erected.
“Do you think they’ll go away?” Amy asked.
“Yeah, I think so. Zombies aren’t very smart, and they should move on if they don’t hear or see anything,” Alex replied, though he wasn’t a hundred percent certain of his facts. For a second, he wished Tara was there. She seemed to know everything about the infected and their habits.
He turned away from the door and looked at Amy. It was the first time since the zombies had broken in that he got a good look at her. They were both still damp from their stint in the rain and sweating like pigs from their earlier exertions. Her ponytail hung like a limp rag, and drops of water fell from the ends.
Alex frowned when he noticed that the water held a pinkish stain, and he leaned closer. Her entire head was the same color. Even as he watched, it grew, spreading throughout her blonde locks and gradually turning bright red.
Alarmed, he grabbed her shoulder. “Sis, you’re bleeding.”
“Huh? Where?” Amy asked with a bewildered look.
“Your head. Did you get hurt?” Alex asked. He hesitated before voicing his worst fear. “Did any of them bite you?”
Amy blinked as both hands flew to her head. “I don’t think so…no. No, I didn’t get bitten.”
Alex heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank God. Here, let me see.”
With gentle hands, he undid her ponytail and parted her hair, wincing when she sucked in a sharp breath, “Ow!”
“Sorry, but I have to check,” Alex said, examining her scalp. Deep scratches cut through the skin, bleeding freely. “There are cuts all over your head. What happened?”
Amy thought for a second, her eyes wide. “Oh, yeah. When the zombies grabbed me, a couple of them scratched me. I didn’t feel it then, but I remember it now that you ask.”
“Scratched you?” Alex asked. “That’s nasty, but at least you can’t get the virus that way. Only through saliva.”
“It still hurts,” Amy said, her face scrunching up as he continued his exam.
“I bet, but it’s not too deep. You won’t need stitches,” Alex said, sitting back. “We’ll need to clean the cuts, though. You could get an infection.”
“With what?” Amy asked. “We left the first-aid kit back in the kitchen.”
“Shit,” Alex cursed, getting to his feet. “There must be something down here we can use.”
“You can take a look. I’m staying right here,” Amy mumbled, leaning against the wall and closing her eyes.
Half an hour later, Alex admitted defeat. “I found a couple of rags. They’re not too clean, however. The only other thing we can use is water and hand soap.”
“Hand soap?”
“Yeah, there are a couple of boxes of toiletries down here,” Alex said, “but not much else.”
Amy shrugged. She looked tired, and her eyelids drooped. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. It doesn’t hurt that much anymore.”
“Well, let me clean and wrap it up, at least,” Alex said, tipping her head back. With the water in one hand and a soapy cloth in the other, he rinsed the blood from her hair. As he washed, it bled even more. He persisted, and eventually, it slowed. Once he’d done what he could, he wrapped it all up with a spare rag, the cleanest of the bunch. “Is that better?”
“A little, but all I want to do is sleep,” Amy said with a big yawn.
“Let me see what I can arrange,” Alex replied, getting up. He searched the basement, but there wasn’t much in the way of comfort.
There was food and water, enough to last them for a while, but precious little else. No blankets, clothes, or heaters. The best he could do was dust off an old couch and offer his lap as a cushion while she slept.
“Is this okay?” Alex asked once they’d settled in for the night.
Amy nodded, her hands tucked beneath her chin as she snuggled up to him. “This is great, Alex. Thanks.”
“No worries, Sis. Get some rest,” Alex replied, draping his jacket over her.
In no time at all, Amy was in dreamland while he was left staring at the ceiling. It was impossible to sleep when faced with an uncertain future. What if the zombies don’t move on? What if they stay?
The specter of starvation loomed large in his mind, and he shuddered. How long would it take for them to go mad? Once the light ran out, they’d be stuck in the dark with only the zombies for company. Even now, they hadn’t stopped beating on the door for even one second. They were single-minded in their determination to break through.
He was familiar with the aspects of psychological torture, and he knew how little it took to break the mind. Factor in the isolation, darkness, threat of death, lack of sunlight and fresh air, and it wouldn’t be long before they both lost it. If they didn’t run out of water first. “No, it won’t happen. The zombies will move on. They have to. Something else will come along and catch their attention.”
Alex sighed and closed his eyes, determined to get some rest. In the morning, he’d take stock of their supplies and work out how long they could make it last. As for Amy, he’d put her to work devising ways to keep their minds busy and off their crappy situation. She was good at things like that. Inventive and creative.
Alex smiled, remembering all the games they’d played on the farm. Games she’d come up with, often on the spur of the moment. She’d never failed to amaze him with her wit and sunny disposition. Not that she couldn’t be a real tiger when she had to be, especially when someone close to her was threatened.
“That’s Amy for you,” he thought, draping his arm over her shoulder. She was so tiny. Petite. But she packed a big heart and an even bigger spirit.
Now that he had a plan of action, Alex fel
t better. He leaned back and blew out a slow, deep breath. “We’ll get out of here, and we’ll find a new place. A better place. One with a future for both of us.”
Chapter 14 - Dylan
After the near-disaster at Radcliff, they made excellent time throughout the morning. Saul avoided the worst of Louisville by sticking to the outskirts of the city, and he did the same with Frankfort and Lexington. Not that it was necessary. All three of these places were eerily quiet, the streets empty and deserted. Aside from the usual traffic jams, car wrecks, decaying corpses, feral animals, and the occasional police or army barricade, there wasn’t much to see. They were now well on their way, shooting down an open road with no other people in sight.
Tara hypothesized that most of the infected from that area had been drawn toward Fort Knox. That would leave the cities zombie free for the present. “It might even give any survivors a chance to gain a foothold. They could use this time to fortify their homes or hideaways and resupply.”
At first, Dylan found this hard to believe. “How would the zombies even know there were humans at Fort Knox. Do they have supersonic hearing or sense of smell?”
“Of course not,” Tara said, “but imagine this: You’ve got a city full of the undead, and they’re hungry. Food is becoming scarce, and they’re running after anything that moves. Suddenly, a plane flies overhead, heading for Fort Knox, or a couple of survivors drive past looking for sanctuary. The zombies see them and follow. Over time, they’re joined by other infected. Soon, a small crowd turns into a mob, which grows into a horde. Every time they’re about to give up or become distracted, another survivor happens along or even a raiding party from Fort Knox itself.”
Dylan nodded. “I see what you’re saying. It’s like a snowball rolling downhill. It just grows and grows.”
“Exactly, and there lies the problem. There are too many of them and too few of us. If we hope to stand a chance, we need to be able to repel a horde, and it would help if our troops were inoculated against the virus, or we had a foolproof cure,” Tara added.
Rise of the Undead Box Set | Books 1-3 | Apocalypse Z Page 24