“Are you ready for the end of our little chase?” The voice of gunman boomed out into the store.
Tara spun on her heels, one hand drifting quickly to the gun and pulling it free, the other gripping the knife tightly. She strained her eyes into the gloom at the rear, but saw no sign of the gunman, and hoped that he didn’t already have a bead on her.
“I enjoyed last night very much, so much that I decided to let you rest, and this is what you did with your time? You found someone to protect you? Are you so weak, child?” He questioned. Feeling a surge of confidence, Tara retorted.
“I don’t need him for protection!”
“Oh, I see. So what is he to you then? A friend?” The man laughed. “A lover?”
“Why don’t you come out where we can see you and stop acting like a coward?” Micky demanded as he stepped forward. He passed in front of an open aisle, and a fraction of a second later, a pair of gunshots rang out. Micky collapsed, holding his knee as blood leaked between his fingers onto the tiled floor. She saw one of his hands drift towards his lower abdomen, where more of his blood was oozing out.
Tara looked in horror as she stepped into better cover against the cap of the aisle. She looked out of the window and saw that the infected had been drawn closer by the gunshots. They moaned hungrily, the closest was about halfway across Jeff’s Mart’s parking lot. Tara was frozen with indecision. She believed the gunman was down the aisle to her right; it was the only place with a clear line of sight on Micky that Tara could see. For all she knew, at that very moment, he could have been heading towards her. On the other hand, he could have been staying in his position at the end of the aisle ready to pick her off as she stepped out; he hadn’t finished Micky off, even though he’d had an ample opportunity, and this led her to suspect that the bleeding, whimpering man was bait for the infected, and perhaps, bait to draw her from hiding.
“What will you do, child? Leave him as you’ve left others in the past, or risk it all to save him. You need to make your decision quickly.” The gunman informed her. His voice didn’t sound closer than it had when he’d spoken before, leading her to suspect he was holding his position. Going out the back of the store wasn’t an option any longer, as the gunman was between her and the exit. This meant she either had to kill him or go out the front. Looking again at the window, precious seconds ticking away, she saw that although there were a great many of the infected, almost certainly too many to fight, if she moved now there was an opportunity to get through them into the vehicle depot across the street, and then, perhaps, weave through the cars to a safer position. It occurred to her that there was a chance that the gunman might have an ally waiting for them there, but in this impossible situation, where her choices were try to escape by going through one of her enemies or waiting to be eaten alive, Tara’s choice seemed easy.
Tara slipped the knife through her belt, but kept the gun in her right hand, and reached down, grabbing Micky by the shoulder. She tried to drag him, but he was heavy and she was in a bad position.
“Micky, move!” She demanded. He kicked out with his good leg and with her aid, pushed himself across the floor, a bloody streak in his wake.
“You choose to save him?” The gunman questioned. Tara ignored him.
“Micky, you’ve got to get up! We’ve got to run!” Tara instructed firmly.
“I can’t move on this leg.” Micky told her, whimpering in pain. “Just… just go.” He instructed weakly.
“I’m not leaving you. Come on, get on your feet.” Tara issued. When Micky made no movement, Tara looked up at the infected. The narrow window of opportunity was closing. She truly didn’t want to leave him, but she wasn’t sure if she’d die for him. This guilty thought struck a chord in Tara, as she realized if she left him to save herself, could she really blame Tobias for doing the same to her? She ignored this question and its implications, however, as she had chosen to help him.
“Get on your feet, Micky!” Tara yelled, grabbing him under his arm and trying unsuccessfully to heave him up. Micky had to have enough fight in him, enough will to survive, to get up because she knew she wasn’t going to be able to do it alone, and every second counted if they wanted to make a bid for freedom. Her harsh words must have penetrated through the pain which engulfed him however, as he moved one of his hands to the floor, pushed up, and scrambled to his feet. His left knee was completely bloodied and useless and as soon as he was up, he almost collapsed again as he tried to put weight on the damaged limb. However, Tara managed to stabilize him by wrapping one of his arms around her left shoulder and stretching her arm across his back. He leaned heavily on her, so much so that she wasn’t certain she could support his weight indefinitely; they would need to find a place to hide and take care of his wounds, and then find some way of getting him moving more easily on his own power. But he was up, and that meant they could move, and it wasn’t a moment too soon as the gap between the infected that Tara had identified was rapidly closing.
“Now, we’ve got to move quickly, Micky, you’ve got to move as fast as you can. Come on, Micky, don’t let me down.” Tara appealed as she readied herself for the exertion ahead; while hoping Micky would respond to her necessary verbal pushing.
“I’ll try. I’ll try.” Micky repeated. He looked a little chalky and drowsy, as though shock was beginning to set in.
“Run, child. Run if you want a few more seconds of life.” The gunman taunted.
Tara focused on the run ahead of them and started to move forward. In motion, Micky’s weight seemed heavier on her than it had before, and her doubts came back over how long she and Micky would be able to move in this way. They started towards one of the shattered windows, moving slower than Tara would have liked, with Micky grunting as he managed a determined shuffle while leaning more and more on Tara.
“Come on, Micky, we’ve got to go faster.” Tara insisted. He didn’t respond; instead he continued grunting painfully as they crunched across the glass. Tara focused on the route through the infected she’d identified, trying not to pay attention to the dozens on the left and right that were closing in, some with arms stretched out to try and grapple the living the moment they were in range; all moaning hungrily. The first of the infected would be on them within twenty seconds, but if they could move just a little faster they could make it out of the parking lot and into the street by taking a relatively straight line. They would need to move quickly across the street, then move to the right to a gap in the fence opposite. Unfortunately, it was near a burning car, so the heat would be incredible when they got close, but if they could just make it past and into the lot proper, she knew the infected that were in the there had thinned out considerably; so while it would still be dangerous, and the gunman would have line of sight on them for most of the journey, she felt confident they could make it through if they had just a little luck. Tara wondered how it had come to this as they shuffled to the halfway point of Jeff’s Mart’s parking area. She risked a look to the left and right, and saw that there was an innumerable sea of infected, most likely drawn by the explosions and car alarms, but now incensed by the smell of blood in the air and the two meals entering their presence.
Tara wanted to look behind and see if the gunman was pursuing them, but it would have been awkward and caused them to slow down more than they already had. Instead she pressed on, moving faster and almost dragging Micky along with her. They reached the curb, the moaning and groaning of the infected surrounding them. The closest were moving faster, the cacophonous revelry of their angry, hungry growls was almost overwhelming. Tara saw one getting closer in front of them, surging forward faster than the others, and so Tara made the quick decision to gun it down. While still moving, she raised the revolver and pointed it at the infected hurtling at her with its jaws snapping open and shut, and then squeezed the trigger. The shot was loud and the result was immediate; the head of the infected exploded out from behind the entry wound in its forehead, and it dropped backwards. The gunshot hadn�
��t simply felled one of the threats: it had incensed those from further away. The sounds the infected were making became louder, and Tara cursed under her breath. They crossed the street, the infected closing in behind them, sealing off their avenue of retreat back to the market should they need it, but also, she hoped, the ability for the gunman to pursue them.
Another infected snatched at her arm, and Tara was barely available to avoid its grasping fingers. They turned and started towards the gap in the fence. Tara recognized that their window of opportunity was nearly closed; they had seconds to reach the gap or they would be trapped outside and surrounded by the infected. It was a race against time, with the infected and Tara and Micky moving towards each other. Another infected attempted to seize Tara’s wrist and she stumbled left to avoid its attack; causing Micky to gasp in pain and nearly fall to his knees. He leaned so heavily on Tara that it nearly dragged her down, but he stabilized himself and Tara was able to keep moving. An infected crossed into their path just steps from the gap in the fence and Tara raised the gun and fired a snap shot. The bullet blew through its right eye and exploded out through the upper back of its head, dropping it in their path.
Tara and Micky aligned themselves so they could slip through the gap; she stepped over the infected corpse and moved through the gap first, Micky hanging onto her side and moving slowly and awkwardly; having difficulty finding a good footing as he tried to shift his injured leg over the uneven ground caused by the infected’s body. The heat radiating from the burning car was appalling; the flames licked at them and even though it was a car parking space away, Tara wanted to be away from it as soon as possible. As she tried to move further into the lot, Micky let out a sudden cry, and his full weight dropped on Tara unexpectedly, dragging them both down to the ground. The revolver slipped from Tara’s hand and it skittered a few paces away just ahead of them. She was stunned for a second, but could already feel Micky moving off her and rolling onto his back. Freed from being under him, Tara looked towards the fence gap and saw seven infected trying to get through. They were stuck for a moment as the throng tried to pass through at the same time, but that wouldn’t stop them for long. Tara got to her hands and knees, scrambling forward and grabbing the gun before rising up to her knees and turning about, taking aim at the first of the infected. Holding the gun in both hands, she lined up a shot and took it, executing one of them. She had three shots left, and so quickly took aim to kill an infected about to drop on Micky; she squeezed the trigger, killing the zombie and leaving two shots remaining.
Its body dropped back lifelessly, creating a short lived obstruction in the flow of the infected. Micky was crawling away, using his hands to drag himself forward, pain etched on his sweat covered face. Tara glanced left and right; three infected were coming in on the left, two on the right and, undoubtedly, there were a few more lingering in the lot that were being drawn towards them. She stood up and reached down to grab Micky to draw him to his feet. The infected from the gap in the fence were less than a few paces away now, and they would soon be upon them. Micky tried to stand but stumbled again, having gained only a couple of feet more distance between them and the infected. It wasn’t much, and that lead evaporated in the time it took Micky to start getting back up.
“Move!” Tara called out, fear and anger swelling inside her as she realized these may be her final moments. She saw that there was a gap between two cars ahead - a gap that would funnel the infected and slow them down - they just needed to get moving again.
“Don’t let them get me, Tara. Don’t let them eat me.” He implored. Tara understood what he was asking, and said nothing in response. She wasn’t ready to give up yet, even if she had to drag him. Tara hauled Micky to his feet and they shuffled into the gap between the cars. She looked towards the main car rental building. On the left hand corner were the remains of a large glass front, either shattered during the explosions or earlier on she wasn’t sure, but it led into the building and, in the dim light from the lamp posts, it seemed like there were fewer infected on that side too. But behind them, the growling, snarling horde of infected were closing in. Micky was ahead of Tara, getting along using the cars for support while Tara brought up the rear. She drew the knife into her left hand and put the gun away temporarily, hoping that she could retrieve it quickly should the need arise.
Two infected slammed into the rear of the cars, one forcing its way around and into the gap ahead of the other. Tara gripped the handle of the knife tightly in both hands, holding it so that she could make a quick thrusting attack and kill the first of the infected. She waited, and as it closed in, its blood stained face and hands ready to destroy Tara, she lunged forward, a gasp of exertion escaping from her as she forced the blade into the creature’s forehead. Immediately, it went limp and heavy; Tara pressed her foot against its lower body and kicked out as she yanked back, pulling the blade free from its bloody housing in the infected’s cranium. The infected behind it was struck by its companion’s corpse and stumbled backwards as it tried to claw its way around. It was successful after a few moments, and surged towards Tara; she repeated her attack, slamming the knife into the monster’s head before kicking back the corpse. More than a dozen more infected were coming towards her now, either incensed by her or following the bloody trail that Micky was leaving, she couldn’t be sure; but Tara had accomplished the goal she’d set out to achieve. The infected were focusing on the gap between the cars rather than spreading out into the area.
“Micky, we’ve got to head towards the entrance on the left. We’ve got to move quickly, Micky, we’ve got to move quickly.” Tara repeated herself, out of fear, out of confusion and feeling overwhelmed at the monstrous horde pursuing them.
“I’m… I’m going.” Micky told her. His voice sounded weak. More infected were on them now; a trio were clambering over the ones she’d already killed, and the first was moving with more speed than the others. It stumbled forward, falling to its hands and knees, and so it started to crawl, with surprising vigour, towards Tara. It snatched at her with one hand, causing her to recoil and bump into Micky, knocking him to the floor; a cry of surprise and pain escaping his lips as he fell. Tara couldn’t stop to help him however, she needed to deal with the crawling infected as it prepared to snatch at her again. She dropped down, slamming the knife into the crown of its head. She tried to pull back, but the blade seemed stuck. She pulled harder and following a disgusting wet sound, the blade was freed and she was able to stand, a second before the next one was on her, standing on the backs of the dead. It grabbed her around the shoulders and started pulling on her, trying to drag her to its waiting, hungry mouth from which a foul stench was emanating that wafted over her face and made her feel sick. With her arms grappled as they were, it was difficult to get her knife in position, so she began to push against the infected with one hand to try and create enough distance. Her face was inches from its snapping maw, but with a surge of strength she shoved it back and, wiggling her knife wielding arm to get a little freedom, she then awkwardly jabbed it into up the monster’s face; plunging up through the eye and into the brain. Its strength evaporated immediately, and, combined with her forceful pushing, the infected was knocked back a few paces into the next one in sequence.
Tara quickly glanced behind her and saw that Micky was hobbling away, heading towards the place she had identified. Fear caused her initial reaction to be a belief that he was abandoning her, but she recognized it for what it was; he was getting out of her way. Tara tried to retrieve her knife, but it seemed stuck, and as some of the infected were now drifting around the car, she decided to leave it. Relinquishing hold of the knife, she started to run to catch up to Micky, grabbing the baton from her pocket and extending it out, holding it ready to fight again. She reached her companion quickly, and throwing his arm around her shoulder for support, started to hurry down the lot, past a few more burning cars that had all but been destroyed. Their run was short lived, however. She heard no sound of a gunshot, but the h
ood of an undamaged car ahead of her let out the tell tale signs and sounds of impact and she saw a few bullet holes appear. She stopped moving and Micky wavered uncertainly as the sudden cessation of movement strained his weakened, uninjured leg. More gunshots hit the car, and Tara hunkered down, dragging Micky into a kneeling position with her. Someone, perhaps the gunman pursuing them, perhaps even one of the snipers Micky had spoken of at the end of town, had repositioned. Exactly who it was, was irrelevant; those shots were designed to be a warning, to let them know they were still being watched. Tara managed to look over her shoulder and could see that the infected were around the car now, spilling through the gap in the middle and around the vehicles, dozens coming through the gaps in the fences, not just from where they had entered, but from the parts damaged by the car explosions too. They forced their way through any way they could, cutting and injuring themselves on jagged pieces of metal, some even walking so close to the burning vehicles that stray licks of flame ignited their clothing, but they weren’t concerned about injury; all they wanted were Tara and Micky.
A World Reborn (Novella): The Harrowsfield Outbreak Page 6