by bret Wellman
Dan looked up and spotted fifteen or more of the sick turning in their direction. They had been wandering in the shadow of the sidewalk, and the gun had sparked their attention. It was odd that they knew enough to stick together like that. It made them a lot more formidable to deal with.
"I don't think we can take them, Barns, there are too many," said Dan.
"Then we must get ta runnin’."
The sick were slow, yet they didn't walk. They tried to run, their poor coordination keeping them from going any faster than a steady jog. Their arms flailed loosely and they stumbled and tripped after their prey.
Dan found himself wishing he had done more cardio in his life. It didn't take more than fifty yards for him to get winded. He pushed on, hearing both his own and Barns' breathing growing louder.
They were elongating the gap between themselves and the sick, but the amount of space they gained was diminishing with every passing minute. It was not long before they were no longer achieving separation at all, and even less before the sick began making up the ground they had lost.
They were persistent, never slowing, never tiring. At the end of one mile, they were right on top of Barns and Dan.
"They... gone... catch... us," Barns wheezed.
Dan pulled out the gun and pinched the briefcase against his armpit so he could cock the barrel. "Don't... talk."
The nearest sick person was right on their heels, reaching out, his hands were mere inches away. Dan put a bullet in his head. The next, he hit in the throat and even though the damage looked to be fatal, the guy kept coming. He dropped him with his second shot, his body tripped up two others as he fell. All three went tumbling to the pavement. That left six that were still up and dangerously close.
Ahead of them, about a hundred yards, there was a large group of people gathered at the shoreline. They were all moving and mixing around, it was hard to tell why from so far away, being chased by zombies. All Dan knew was that it had to be where the boats were picking people up.
Dan mustered up what was left of his energy and picked up his pace. A few yards farther, he turned back, and began firing on the sick people behind him. He tried to take out as many as he could in the hope that the crowd would be able to take care of the rest once they got there. By the time his gun clicked empty there were only two left and they were a good twenty feet behind.
Dan and Barns were getting close enough to the crowd by then that they could get a good look at what was going on. What Dan had not noticed from a distance was that the crowd had already been infiltrated by the sick. Everybody was fighting, some wrestled on the ground, others on their feet. A woman was getting eaten alive on the pavement, blood soaking into her yellow, polka-dotted dress. Two men kicked one of the sick while it was down, it was getting harder and harder to tell that it had ever been a person. There were pitched battles everywhere; some of the healthy were winning, most were being overpowered by the unrelenting sick. Everybody was yelling, screaming or moaning, each calling for their comrades to assist them. Four or five people took off running into the city, disappearing around a building. Twenty or thirty took off splashing and swimming into the water, the sick pouring in behind them. The last boat was speeding away in front of them, the water turning red below them.
Chapter 11
Dan's heart sank as he watched the last boat getting farther away. The people had swarmed the shoreline, taken all the boats, and he had missed the last one by less than a minute. He was going to have to find another way off the island.
"What... we... gone... do," Barns asked through heavy breaths.
"We... fight," Dan said, turning to face the two sick that were chasing them.
He dove into the closer of the two, hitting the man around chest height and knocking them both over. The sick man was clumsy, Dan was able to get on top and start pounding him in the face with his fists.
He was so tired he could not catch his breath. He knew that if he kept punching he would eventually pass out. He also knew that if he stopped, the guy might still be able to bite him. His vision was narrowing and he was seeing dots.
He felt the second sick man grab his shoulder. The grip was cold, like being touched by a corpse. He waited for the hard bite of teeth.
The second man went down as Barns coldcocked him. He then jumped up and came down hard with two feet right on his head. The skull cracked, Barns stomped on it. The man was still trying to get up, Barns stomped again. It wasn't until the third stomp that he actually went still.
Once the second man had stopped moving Barns came over and helped to dispatch the first.
Dan slumped down next to the body, unable to catch his breath. Barns panted at his side.
"No... good," said Barns.
Dan lay there, staring at the tops of the buildings, feeling the constriction of air moving through his throat. Exercise, the shithole of sports, he thought. It took him a good thirty seconds to sit up and even then he felt the strong urge to lie back down. His heart thumped wildly in his chest, preparing to explode.
After another thirty seconds, Dan stood up, fighting the burn in his chest and trying to get a grasp on his surroundings. There were now more sick than healthy people in the crowd; the ones that had run out into the water had all been dragged under.
"We... have... to get... the hell... out of here." He picked up the empty gun and tucked it in his pants.
He debated jumping into the mob and trying to save some people but knew he didn't have the energy to make a difference. Instead, they started moving towards the buildings, not quite jogging yet still keeping a brisk pace. He knew they had to move fast, before the sick in the crowd started looking for outside victims.
"Let's go up this street, maybe try and find a subway where we can walk off the island," said Dan as they turned up the street. The Empire State Building was towering a few miles straight ahead. The other buildings, though smaller than the Empire, dominated their view in every direction. It had gotten loud, it seemed like every car alarm was going off in the city. Fire engines and police sirens were roaring everywhere, people were screaming, glass was breaking, cars were crashing, the city was beginning to break down.
"Hey, don't you even think about coming any closer," they heard a scruffy voiced girl say.
They looked in time to see her shoot one of the sick with a taser. The sick man went stiff as a board before collapsing to the ground, only to get back up as if nothing had happened.
"Shit!" said the girl, reaching into her hoodie and coming out with a can of mace. If the sick man felt the pain of being maced he did not let on. In fact, he didn't so much as flinch.
The girl spotted Dan and Barns as she backed up, a lock of dark hair falling onto her forehead, away from her pony tail. "Uh, a little help here?"
Dan sprang into action, running over, shoving the sick man down where, with Barns’s help, they smashed in his skull.
"Thanks, guys, that zombie was about to turn me into mincemeat," she said.
The girl didn't look like she was any older than twenty. The way she was dressed and the two rings on her eyebrow and nose said she was a groupie for some punk band. Her attitude said she was in the band.
She wore a leather jacket over a purple hoodie, blue jeans and sneakers. Daddy issues were the first words that came to Dan’s mind.
"Zombie?" asked Dan.
"What the hell else do you call a flesh eating corpse?" Her voice was scruffy but in a feminine sort of way.
"Good point."
"We gots ta keep moving Dan," said Barns looking around at the chaotic street.
The girl squinted her face and waved her hand in front of her nose. "Oh, man, you smell like shit, dude."
Barns looked like he was hurt; the girl’s expression immediately softened, "I mean, it's not that bad considering the circumstance." She reached her hand out for him to shake. "I'm Zoey, and you are?"
Barns took her hand in both of his and shook frantically, "Barns be mine and it be a pleasure to be ta
lking to ya."
She held her hand out to Dan expectantly.
Dan looked up the street: "It's Dan, and we have to get moving." Instead of shaking her hand he began to walk.
"Wait," Zoey called, running to catch up with them. "Where are we going?"
Dan looked back, "We are getting the hell off this island before it is too late."
"We gots to do it quick, da whole damn place is goin’ down fast," Barns added.
"Shouldn't we be finding weapons first? You know, so we can crack some skulls when the time comes... haven't you two ever seen a zombie movie?" Zoey asked.
"No, there is no time to do anything but get to safety," Dan said, spotting the entrance to a subway station. A garbage can had been knocked over where a man was rolling across the ground, wrestling with a "zombie."
Between Barns, Dan and Zoey, they had stomped the zombie to death within a minute and the bloody man on the ground thanked them through painful sobs. They left the man there to fend for himself as they descended into the subway.
They ran down the steps, taking them two at a time. Dan was watching his feet, making sure he didn't miss a step and tumble down. He was concentrating so hard that he did not see the water until his ankle was entirely submerged. He tried to stop but his momentum carried him forward.
The water was dirty, the slime and gunk from every orifice in the city had followed the rain and pooled in it. It was cold too, so cold that it confused Dan, making it feel like he had fallen into a lake of fire as he went under.
He burst back through the surface, gasping in shock. His feet were touching and his head was above water and yet he still panicked, the cold taking over his mind.
Barns went waist deep and helped yank him back up to dry land where Zoey was laughing hysterically.
"I know this isn't the time, but that is way too funny," she said. Her laughter died just as quick as it had come and her face drew serious. "I think we have company."
Dan looked back, into the dark subway, his teeth chattering. Three heads were wading through the water, ripples trailing them. They moaned, they were the sick, they were the zombies.
"Damn it," Dan spat into the water. "I don't think we can fight them off in the water."
"Den we best be gettin’ a new plan," said Barns.
Zoey nodded, "Yeah, and fast."
Heat, it was the first word that popped into his head, whatever the new plan was, it had to involve heat. He was beginning to shake uncontrollably. "We have to get back on the street, we can't do anything down here."
That was when Dan realized he was no longer holding onto the briefcase. He must have dropped it when he had plunged into the water. He whirled around, there it was, floating between him and the approaching zombies. Dan didn't think twice, he just dove. There was no way he was going to survive the zombie apocalypse only to come out the other end, the same broke chump as when he went in. He would rather die.
He swam, arm over arm through the floating sludge.
"Get back!" he thought he heard Barns yell, it was hard to tell with all the water that was splashing over him.
He reached the briefcase at the same moment as the zombies. They were pale and missing chunks from their faces, their bodies bloated from the water. It was hard to see anything else in the dark.
Dan swooped up the briefcase with one numb hand and kicked off of the zombies. They grabbed him but he was able to slip away as the momentum from his kick carried him back towards the steps. He felt one catch his ankle, bringing him to a stop. Its hand was the same temperature as the water, it was hard and bony. Dan kicked with his other foot, knocking the zombie’s head sideways and jarring his foot loose.
He paddled hard, ignoring the fact that the briefcase was slowing him down. He could feel the darkness closing in on him from behind, he had to get to Barns and Zoey, he had to get to the light.
Barns caught his wrist first, yanking him up with the help of Zoey.
"Are you out of your mind?" She looked more bewildered than angry.
Barns nodded, "Oh he ah mad man."
"Let's ge-get out of here." He was so cold, he could hardly talk.
Looking back, he could see that the zombies weren't much farther than they had been when he grabbed the briefcase. They tried to walk through the water, something that slowed them down drastically.
"Are you coming?"
He turned at the sound of Zoey’s voice only to realize they were already halfway up the steps. He had the unnerving feeling of being left behind, there was nothing between the zombies and him. He couldn't feel his feet and his legs were stiff, but that did not stop him from running to catch up.
Chapter 12
Barns was one step from walking into the street, he did not see the car that was barreling towards him. The engine was roaring, it was an SUV, your average soccer mom vehicle. This one was covered in zombies, around five in total. They bashed their fists against the windshield, trying to get in. It looked like the driver was flying blind, desperately trying to get away from the attackers covering their vehicle. Spider web cracks were growing larger and larger as all the windows began to break.
Zoey was only slightly behind Barns, it was far enough that she would be in the clear, but not Barns. His body was far enough out that he was going to get clipped for sure.
Dan jumped forward and grabbed a handful of Barns’s shirt, yanking him back to safety. The SUV went flying by, wind whipped across them and the noise reached its max with a whoosh. The SUV lost control thirty yards up the street and crashed into a store front. Glass and clothing tumbled across the floor as the car skidded to a stop halfway through the retail store. Dan spotted a police cruiser in a similar zombie situation, hauling through an intersection a few blocks up.
"Whooo!" yelled Barns. "Almost lost my ass on dat one."
Zoey grabbed him by the shoulders: "Are you okay?" To look him in the eyes, she almost had to stare straight up.
Barns nodded, "It take mo’ dan dat to get me."
Dan was pissed, "you have to watch where you are walking, Barns, we won't last till the night if you keep doing things like that."
Barns looked sullen, "oh, I'm sorry, Dan, I didn't mean it. I do better, okay?"
"Let's just get some weapons and find a place to hide. Sorry Barns, I don't want to see you get hurt, man, that's all," said Dan.
"I know, I know, maybe we can get some flip flop when we get to where we are going," said Barns.
"Hell yeah," said Dan.
"I know where we can get some weapons," said Zoey. "I play Warcraft with a guy who collects swords. Considering the circumstances, I don't think he would mind us taking any."
There was movement behind them, the man that had been wrestling with the zombie before they had gone into the subway was getting to his feet. It looked as though he was no longer in pain, it also looked as though he was no longer alive.
His skin had gone pale white and black circles grew under his eyes, a string of drool seeping from the corner of his mouth. He stumbled and moaned, his arms trying to lift but only making it a foot or so away from his body.
Zoey dropped to her side, hitting the ground hard. It looked to Dan as though she had done it on purpose, like she had suddenly given up. She anchored her whole body to the ground kicking out hard with her purple Converses. The blow landed right on the zombie’s kneecap, its leg folding in half in the wrong direction. Zoey rolled out of the way and back up to her feet as the zombie came crashing down.
All three of them stepped back as the zombie tried lamely to crawl after them. It tried to stand up but its injured leg collapsed. It crawled a few feet before trying to get up again, only to be met with the same result as the first time.
Zoey smiled, "That should slow him down.”
"Wow," said Dan, thoroughly impressed.
"He ain't got no knee!" cheered Barns. "Can't chase nobody if ya got no knee."
"Come on you guys," said Zoey. "We have some swords to get."
The
zombie trailed after them but was falling farther and farther behind with every step. It screeched and bloodied its fingers on the pavement as it dragged itself along.
"It's not far," said Zoey. "He only lives two blocks away."
Only two blocks felt a lot farther than it used to, thought Dan, looking out at random scuffles and stumbling dead.
"But first we better run in here," she went on, grabbing Dan by the hand and pulling him into a store they were passing.
It was a clothing store selling men's business suits.
"We don't have time for this," Dan protested.
Zoey kept pulling. "You are turning blue, you need dry clothes."
One of the clothing racks had been knocked over, dress coats lay strung across the aisle near the front door. The lights were all out but the store was small enough that the front window provided enough light to see. The cash register had been knocked off the counter, its money strewn across the floor. There didn’t appear to be anyone inside, but it did look like a fight had gone down.
"Stay behind me," said Dan, shielding Zoey from any unseen threat.
"I tink one be in here," said Barns.
They heard a whimper, it came from behind the counter at the far end of the store. It was darkest at that end, farthest away from the front window.
Barns and Dan locked eyes. "Should we leave?" asked Barns.
Dan looked over at a rack holding a bunch of dress shirts. He knocked it over and began prying all the pieces apart. The final piece was a four foot rod that Dan picked up and held as a weapon. He almost handed Barns the briefcase but thought better of it and handed him the rod instead.
"Go see what it is."
Barns nodded, "If you say so, Dan."
He crept up to the cash register, stepping on the money and holding the rod like a baseball player waiting for a pitch. He kept looking back for reassurance from the others.
"What do you see?" asked Zoey.
Barns stepped around the counter and lowered the rod. "It’s ah guy, he got himself bit."
Dan ran up and leaned over the counter. There was a man sitting on the floor, his back against the wall. There was a huge gash in his shoulder, someone had bitten clear through his dress shirt. He didn't look up at any of them, he was too far gone for that.