The Girl Who Punched Back: The Death Fields

by Angel Lawson

  “You made it—which makes you pretty bad-ass.”

  “I made it,” I say. “But my mom didn’t.”

  “Oh,” he says, and I can nearly sense how bad he feels for not realizing.

  “It’s okay—“

  I don’t answer fully because I see Parker abruptly stop just ahead of us. Jude and I both watch as she intently stares into space and listens.

  “What is it?” I whisper as we get close to her.

  She lifts a finger to her lips and shakes her head. A soft breeze passes and I’m slapped with the worst odor.

  “God, do you smell that?” I ask, instinctively gripping my weapon. Jude nods with his hand already over his nose. There’s an Eater nearby. The stench gets worse. Make that Eaters.

  I look up at the tower and spot the guard lifting up a pair of binoculars to his eyes.

  “Night vision,” Jude says. “I had the same ones.”

  A thud sounds against the fence next to us and the three of us jump, weapons ready.

  “They’re out there,” Parker says.

  I frown. “How many? Why are they so quiet?”

  “I don’t know,” she replies.

  I move away from the fence. One of us needs to alert the other fighters something is out there, but before I get far, I hear it. Them. The low chorus of sound bouncing off the metal fence.

  The sound is coordinated, a deep, building roar signaling the full size of the swarm outside the barricade. I’m frozen.

  Thankfully, not everyone has the same reaction. A cry from above sends out an alert and emergency lights I didn’t know still worked cut through the

  pitch-black night. I’m instantly blinded and shut my eyes in protection.

  “Sweet mother of…,” Jude shouts, followed by a curse. Anything else he says is drowned out by the sound of Fighters running out of the barracks, weapons drawn.

  “What do we do?” Parker asks.

  I’m clueless and scan the area for a veteran. Now that my eyes have adjusted, I spot them climbing up the makeshift ladders attached to the interior of the fence. I run to the one closest to me and start to go up.

  What I see and smell up top takes my breath away. The back side of the compound is ten deep with Eaters, probably a couple hundred in all. They managed to sneak through the woods and get close to us without alerting any of the watchers or guards. Their quiet is gone now that they’ve found us. The growling and screams grow, only now shattered by a loud command, “Incoming!”

  I can’t see anything but I grab onto the fence top, nearly shaken off the ladder by an earth-shattering explosion under my feet. The Fighters have moved into action, tossing grenades and explosives below. A shrill ring rattles my ears and pieces of flesh fly through the air. There’s a full assault going on below and it’s clear that I’m useless up here, so I turn to descend the ladder.

  “Alex!” Jude waves at me from the ground.

  Halfway down, I see the front gate opening and watch a group of black-clad Fighters leave the entrance. I’m certain one of those soldiers is Wyatt. From my vantage point they split into two groups, each going in an opposing direction to confront the infected from the sides.

  At the bottom I follow Jude, who’d received instruction from a ranking Fighter for us to head toward the buildings used for medical. Hayes stands in the open doorway and gestures for us to move quickly inside. Once we’re both clear, the door closes quickly behind us. Even behind these walls, we can hear the sound of fighting in the distance.

  I realize Parker is here as well and we huddle in a small reception area. I was processed through one of these buildings when I arrived, receiving a vaccine check-up, but it only took a few minutes.

  “We have three survivors that came in earlier today with one of the scouting groups. They’ve all been processed and under orders by the physicians. I need you three to keep them safe while the fighting is going on outside.”

  “Safe?” Parker asks.

  “Do not let anyone in or out until the all-clear has been sounded. These are not healthy people. They were out in the elements for a long time. They need rest and continued care before they can get the vaccine.” We all glance up at movement at the end of the hall. Jude lifts his weapon, but Hayes pushes it back down when it’s clear it’s a member of the medical team.

  “No one comes in or out. Do you understand?”

  We all agree and he steps outside, fading into the dark. The door locks with a loud click behind him. Jude reaches past me and slides the additional bolts. I move further into the room, looking for some air to process everything. Jude stops in front of a chair and sits down, still but alert. Parker…well, Parker stands unmoving with a blank, distant look on her face.

  “Hey,” I say, trying to get her attention. “You okay?”

  She blinks but doesn’t say anything. Her hands clench around the black, taped handle of a spiked bat. “Parker?” I try again. “Come away from the door. We’re good for now. They’ll keep them on the other side of the fence.”

  That statement seems to snap her out of it, but the look on her face makes me step back. Her eyes have a crazy glint when she asks, “How do you know?”

  “Because I trust them. We’re a team.”

  “Why? Because they dropped us off in the middle of nowhere with little training and all the sudden we’re supposed to fight those things?” She finally moves, but it’s just to pace the small space. Her hands shake. “I don’t think I can do this.”

  I don’t tell her that I’m terrified. Truly panicked. I’m worried sick about Wyatt and the others out there. I can’t even think about what happens if they breach the fence. I simply say, in a fake, hard voice, “We can do this.”

  Jude jumps out of his seat and stands in front of her. I don’t know what I expect him to say, but it’s not, “Tell me how you got to the Fort?”

  “What?”

  He shrugs. “How did you get to the Fort? Alex and the patrol team picked me up at a house with a bunch of other survivors. We’d been in there for months. From what she told me, she traveled from Raleigh. On foot.” He glances at me, eyebrow raised, impressed.

  “I fought with Wyatt and Walker to get out of a tight spot.” I add. “They’re good soldiers.”

  “They may be, but I’m not.” She exhales. “You know what I did before this? I was a first-year kindergarten teacher. I worked with five-year-olds on how to share and stand in a line.”

  “So you have some experience with chaos, then,” Jude deadpans.

  She turns to yell at him, but he winks, and despite her rolling eyes I can see her features soften.

  “So you taught five-year-olds. How did you end up at the Fort?”

  “When everyone first got sick, the school where I taught turned into an evacuation center in Augusta. It was during the first wave—back when it was an option—not a requirement.” She pauses, taking a second to steady herself. Her dark eyes fill with a familiar sadness and I feel my own chest seize. “My family is from Virginia, and after college I decided to stay down here by myself. With the travel ban I couldn’t get back home, so when they made the announcement that people could go the school, I decided to go and volunteer.”

  “Smart.”

  “I was there for a couple of weeks. We set out cots and had the cafeteria running. It wasn’t so bad. No one was sick, and the perimeter was protected by the National Guard. One night there was a scuffle outside—an Eater got through the gate and attacked some of the workers behind the cafeteria. We stayed inside, separated from the violence, but for most of us it was the first real attack we’d been exposed to other than what we’d seen on TV. The next day, some people from PharmaCorp showed up with a medical team and brought supplies. I started talking to the liaison and he asked me if I wanted a job. Obviously, I said yes. It was the most normal offer I’d had in weeks. I’ve lived behind the walls ever since.”

  “So this is your first time really out here,” I say, understanding her panic a little better.


  “Yep. I was assigned to work with the kids at the Fort, but I also started the cardio and training classes. I played basketball in high school. I think they liked my speed and accuracy. I wanted something more, and Jane felt like I could be useful out here—especially if any of the survivors were kids.”

  Parker has settled down substantially while speaking. Her hands no longer shake and her voice sounds even. I glance at Jude and he gives me a quick nod. Needing a break from the drama, I excuse myself. “I’m going to go check the back just to make sure everyone is okay.”

  Past the reception area, I travel down a non-descript hallway with several open doors. The walls are thin and pre-fabricated and the first rooms I pass are empty. I come to one and spot the nurse from intake back at the Fort. Blonde. Pretty. Interested in Wyatt.

  “Are you hurt?” she asks, pointing to my face. I reach up and feel the sticky pieces of flesh from the explosion earlier.

  “No. Just dirty.” She reaches for a cloth and dips it in a small bowl. Meeting me in the hallway, she hands it to me. “Thanks.”

  “What’s happening out there?” she asks as I wipe the goo off my cheek. She has on a similar uniform as mine, but with the medical symbol on the arm and an apron covering her waist. The name patch on her chest says Baxter, but I know her first name is Amanda. I’m about to answer when a loud explosion rocks the whole building, and we both reach for the walls to steady ourselves.

  “Eaters surrounded the backside of the compound. The Fighters are taking care of it. You guys are safe.” We’re safe, I promise myself. Wyatt and the others, too.

  She doesn’t look sure, either, and worriedly glances at the occupant of the room. I see in the shadowy, lantern-lit room that a woman covered by a thin, blue blanket is asleep on the cot. Her hair is thin but clean. She looks frail and incredibly underweight. “We’ve got three others in here, in the back with Dr. Green. They’re all exhausted.”

  “I can imagine.” The road is a hard place to be. Unimaginable before you have to do it on your own. That may be part of what’s freaking Parker out. Harsh reality. “Will they be okay?”

  “They’re mostly dehydrated and sleep-deprived.”

  I step closer and notice a blistered area on the woman’s neck. “What’s that?”

  “A burn, actually. She’s lucky. It will most likely scar but it could have been a lot worse.”

  “And they’ll get the vaccine once they get the doctor’s approval?”

  “Yes. Probably tomorrow. Jane, the Director, asked us not to hesitate.”

  I lean against the wall, ignoring the ridiculous title given my sister. “What then?”

  “I think they all get shipped back to the Fort for training and job placement. Or I guess they can leave if they want, although I have no idea why anyone would want to live out there.”

  The fighting outside quiets and I exhale, hoping maybe this is the end of it. “Let me know if you need anything,” I tell Amanda. She nods and moves back to her patient.

  Parker and Jude are talking quietly in the front room when I walk in. The front door rattles and we all stop, looking uneasily at one another, wondering which direction this will go in. I take point, weapon ready, and the others stand behind me. Parker looks steady and my confidence in Jude has grown solid.

  The rattle changes to banging. Loud banging. Then shouts. “Open up! We need all medical outside!”

  It sounds like Davis, but I’m not sure. How am I supposed to be sure? Even if they’re still alive, they could be bit and transitioning. Amanda and Dr. Green appear in the hallway.

  “Everyone stay back. Jude, do not let them past, got it?”

  I move to the door and slide the bolt. A fist swings in my direction and Davis, carrying another person, stumbles forward. I pull my hatchet away from his face, but not before he shouts, “Jesus, Ramsey, what the hell are you doing?”

  The body on the ground has a blood-stained mohawk and I know for certain it’s Wyatt. Davis rolls him over and it’s clear he’s unconscious and covered, again, in blood. This time, I have a feeling it belongs to him. Amanda rushes forward and pushes me out of the way.

  “Has he been bitten?” she asks in a collected voice.

  I am not so collected. Jude tugs me backwards and out of their way.

  “No. Just beat up.” Davis wipes sweat off his forehead. He doesn’t look too good, either. “He got caught in the middle of the swarm and crushed against the fence. We had to use an explosive to get him out of there.”

  “Take him to the first room on the left,” she says, and Dr. Green helps pick him up off the ground.

  “What do we do?” I grab Davis’ arm as he heads down the hall.

  “Get your ass out there and clean up. We killed all the dead. You need to go out there and help the living.”

  Chapter 13

  There’s nothing worse than cleaning up a dead Eater.

  I mean, it may actually be the worst of the worst, and I say this living in the apocalypse. For real. They smell. They’re oozing. And oh, my God, the flies.

  I lean over and quickly move the bandana from my mouth and nose and gag.

  “Ramsey, if you puke it’s just going to add to the smell. Keep it together, please,” Jude says as he drags a body with only one leg to the pit we spent the morning digging.

  Jude, Parker, and I, along with the other new recruits, secured the awesome job of clean up since we didn’t actually fight in the battle the night before. I get the point, and the veteran Fighters are either healing in the clinic or keeping watch over our efforts, but still, it sucks.

  And did I mention it smells? Really badly.

  “Seriously? Does it not make you gag?” I ask, choking back bile.

  “I told you, I’ve just compartmentalized it—like eviscerating a deer after a kill.”

  My stomach flips at the thought.

  “You’ll get used to it,” he says, patting me on the back.

  The number of bodies on the ground is astonishing, but Walker told us that we didn’t lose any of our own in the fight. That makes me feel a little better about our abilities as a group, even if my own specialty seems to be lugging dead bodies into a pile to burn.

  I wipe my mouth with the back of my sleeve and push the bandana back in place. Reaching for the arm of the dead Eater at my feet, I notice something. Coated in dirt and grime is a thick paper band wrapped around his wrist. I scrape away part of the sooty dust and purple appears. Where have I seen this before?

  Parker walks by, dragging her own body toward the pit by the feet. She shakes her head and raises an eyebrow. “Girl, what are you doing?”

  I frown at the band and twist it around to see if it has anything else identifying on it. No logo or anything. Just a series of numbers.

  “Alex!” Parker shouts and I blink up at her. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “This bracelet. I’ve seen one before.” I glance down at the body she’s dragging—this one a female. Her long, dirty hair is tangled with dirt and debris. My eyes scan her body and land on the shirt-covered wrist. “Hold up.”

  I hear Parker sigh under the dusty, black bandana, but she waits as I step over the one body and bend over the next. Pushing back the sleeve, I find what I’m looking for: Another band. This one less dirty and definitely purple.

  It hits me where I saw the other one. During the assault on the highway on our way down here, one of the Eaters had the same bracelet on its wrist. It can’t be a coincidence. I drop the dead woman’s arm and run to the next body, then the next. Each one is similarly tagged.

  This wasn’t a random group of infected people that stumbled upon us. These people all came from the same place. They were from a community—a community that kept track of their members. I pull the handle of a sharp knife I keep tucked in my boot and cut the thick band.

  “Have you seen anything like this before?” I ask Parker, who is still watching me, but with less annoyance.

  “No.”

  “I’ll
be back.”

  “Wait, what? Where are you going?” I don’t reply. “Alex! You’re not leaving all this work to us!”

  “I’ll be back!” I shout. “Just leave a pile for me.”

  I jog toward the front gate, passing the other recruits and ignoring the Fighters keeping watch. I get to the gate and bang on the side. Uncovering my face, I say, “Let me in. I need to talk to someone.”

  The guard gazes down at me. I don’t know him personally, but he waves his hand to someone below and the gate slowly opens.

  Once inside, I dash past the cleaning station, despite the fact I’m filthy. I head straight to the recovery building we holed up in last night. At the door I bang again, impatient to get inside. “Let me in. It’s Ramsey!” I shout. Moments later, Amanda appears with an irritated grimace on her face.

  “What are you doing? People are trying to sleep in here.”

  “Yeah, sounds nice.” I push past her and she jumps out of the way, not wanting Eater guts on her clothes. “Where’s Wyatt?”

  “You can’t come in here like this. You’re filthy. You’re probably carrying God-knows-what kind of germs.”

  “Where’s Wyatt?” I ask again, this time louder than I meant.

  A loud groan comes from down the hall and his dark, shadowy figure appears. He leans against the wall, shirtless, with cotton pants slung low on his hips. I avert my eyes to his face instead and spot the tight, painful grimace. That can’t be good. “Alex, what the hell are you doing?”

  He’s the third person that’s asked me that in five minutes.

  I start to tell him about the arm bands and what I’ve seen outside, but I spot the blooming purple-and-black bruise spreading across his chest and I can’t help but walk over to him. “Crap. Are you okay?”

  “I was, until you started banging on the door and raising hell.”