The Undead Zed

by Durman, Jason

  Chapter 6

  I don't know what to do.

  There's walking. I've lost count of all the tree I pass; it's all woods, like back at The Cabin. I walk and walk and walk and don't hear anything but the trees, and sometimes squirrels, but I don't feel like chasing them.

  My stomach growls; I have to get food. There's nothing here. Find prey find something to eat.

  Something that doesn't scream. My head is too full of screaming anyways.

  I still walk. I need to find out where I am.

  Where I need to go.

  I walk for a long time, even when it's dark and it gets cold, cold enough to see the white smoke-stuff when I breathe. My hood is up, but my hands and face and the hurt parts of my leg are cold, the burning kind of cold that stings my eyes.

  The smells start to change, after awhile. Not so much dirt and leaf and tree; more gas and oil and car and…

  Sick.

  It's faint, and not fresh. After I walk a little more, there's blood, but mostly the smell of dead.

  I don't feel so hungry anymore.

  It gets stronger, the more I walk. It's even darker, but I can still see fine. There's less trees, and the ground is hard under my feet. Pavement

  After while I see houses. No more woods; they're behind me. They're shaped like the cabin, but bigger- really bigger. There's lots of them, all smushed together.

  I've seen something like this before…

  I'm biking to Seb's house, mom, I'll be back before five…

  Wind in my face, the sun above me, and I'm going fast on the road…

  Then it's dark, and cold, and the smell of sick and blood is in my nose again.

  I shake my head, which is hurting again. What was that? I didn't smell it, but I still saw it and heard it…

  There's a growl behind me.

  I turn. Pay attention! I think, and then I see a woman.

  She smells Sick. Very Sick.

  She has blood on her face. On her hands, on her everything… and she's growling at me.

  Infected.

  Enemy

  I don't think. My hands and my legs do it for me. I get in my jumping crouch, and growl back.

  Challenge.

  She screams. I hear it everywhere, all echoey around the houses, and she runs at me, hands up, and coming at me, ready to claw…

  I push on my legs and launch.

  I don't mean to scream, but my head does that anyways- it's a hunting scream, the kind that scared away rivals and made the Infected run…

  My claws are out, and swipe and her face. Then I land- crrnch- and

  tear and rip and attack and-

  It stops screaming.

  Her eyes are still open, and bleeding a little. There's blood on my claws, and my sweater…

  I smell sick.

  My stomach makes a little grgl noise, and I don't think I'm hungry at all.

  I leave the body behind. I watch and smell and listen for other ones, but I don't think there are any more. There's bodies on the ground, but they're mostly long-dead. They still smell sick.

  Everything smells sick.

  I don't like being down low anymore, So I high jump onto one of the houses. I see the woods on one side of me, and more houses on the other side.

  I still don't know where I am.

  I need sleep. Somewhere safe. One of the windows to the houses is open, and if I aim-Ooof.

  Ow.

  I think I hit a wall. I'm inside, though.

  There's not as much of a sick smell in here. There are new smells, but I don't know how to name them, and they're all old and dusty.

  Snff. Stupid dust.

  It's darker inside, and it takes me a little while to see better.

  It's a big room, with a couch, but it doesn't smell nice like in The Cabin. There's a black-box thing on the wall, but I'm not sure what it is…

  L, lemmee change the channel, pleeeeease? David Belle is doing an interview on Channel 8, you can watch Elmo later…

  It's a... TV. I think. I used to fight about it, but I don't know why.

  Someone named L...

  When I try and think about harder, my head hurts even more, so I leave the room so it stops.

  The next room I go into is the kitchen. It's bigger and shinier than the one in the cabin, and when I look in the cupboards there's not any MRE's, just canned stuff. I'm hungry, so I don't care. It takes awhile with my claws, but I get one open and eat the stuff inside. I don't know what it is, but it tastes like MRE09 Menu 03. I start feeling better after I eat a few more cans of the stuff, and my head doesn't hurt any more.

  I go back to the couch room, but I don't hear any more new noises. Then because I'm tired, and I don't know where I am, and I still don't know what to do or go or anything, I curl up on the couch and sleep.

  Chapter 7

  2 weeks later

  It was too cold for this BS.

  Heck, it as too cold for anything, really, and Trevor didn't want to be out here, in any case. But, he reflected, it was probably better than being one of the numerous frozen corpses he kept having to step over.

  "Hey, Eve." He said, glancing at his companion, and cradling his semiautomatic in case of any unexpected surprises, "Next time, do you think we can get Russ to break his arm somewhere warmer?"

  Eve snorted, continuing to crunch down the road and as she watched for Infected. "I thought you were from Indiana." she said, brushing aside a strand of black hair, and shooting Trevor an amused look. "Don't you get a truckload of snow every year?"

  Trevor jogged to catch up with her, his snow boots crunching the ice coating the street. "We do." he wheezed, slightly out of breath from the sudden exertion. "But this old man's used to sitting in front of a nice, warm fire, not fighting zombies and scratching for food in some forsaken town in-"

  He paused. "Where are we now?"

  "I think it's Ohio." Eve mused. "I'll check the map again. And it's not that cold."

  Trevor looked at her strangely. "Aren't you from Puerto Rico?" he asked.

  Eve smirked under her scarf. "My parents are. I'm not. I'm Illinois born and raised, and this here isn't anything more than a little nose-nipper." she paused. "And this cold means that we haven't had to deal with anything since we got here."

  "True."

  There was a weighted silence.

  "Smells better, too."

  "I'll grant you that."

  Then they said nothing, and only the sounds of ice (and otherwise) crunching underneath their boots filled the air. Eventually, they reached a nondescript brick building, and Eve stopped, eying it carefully.

  "I don't think we've raided this one yet."

  "I hope it's not another office building." griped Tarvis. "All they have are K-Cups and instant oatmeal packets."

  "Looks promising enough." she replied. "It's worth a try."

  With that, she kicked the door in.

  The inside was dusty, but, mercifully, it was the only smell that pervaded the place. The halls were darkened, and fallen ceiling panels snapped ominously underfoot. Electric wiring hung like overgrown vines, and despite the fact it couldn't possibly be live after that long, Eve and Trevor were careful to skirt around them.

  "This had better be the last building we have to raid in the ridiculous little town." hissed Trevor. "How long is it to Charleston, again?"

  Eve sighed. "I have no idea, Trav. I'd say 4 weeks, if he'd stop adding so many damn detours…"

  "That long?"

  "Well, you know how he is about shortcuts."

  "It's starting to get on my nerves."

  "You'd prefer the border?"

  Trevor didn't reply, and Eve had the general feeling that he was sulking. Big baby, she thought. The again, at this rate, they'd only hit the Carolinas by the time the snow had melted. Ay por dios.

  Trying to take her mind off of such things, she opened a door at random, giving the inside a cursory glance before turning to Trevor again. "We'll make it there eventually," she said, tryin
g to be bright, but Trevor didn't respond. She shot a looked at him, and then again back through the door. "It's just a janitor's closet, I don't think there's anyth -"

  "In the corner." he hissed, through clenched teeth, his gun up. She trailed his gaze.

  Past the dim outlines of old forgotten brooms and mops, and the sharp tang of chemical cleaner, there was a bundle of clothes next to one of the shelves. At closer inspection, Eve realized that it was a pair bloodstained, torn jeans, very dingy looking Nikes, and a ratty-looking parka, which was steadily rising and falling with the occupant's breathing.

  "What the…?"

  Before the either of them could properly react, the pile shifted, muzzily lifting its head (or what looked like it) up, looking straight at the two. As soon as it spotted her, the bundle gasped, bolting upright to its knees and throwing both of its gloved hands in the air with a wild shout.

  "Don'tshootdon'tshootI'mhumanPLEASEdon'tshoot!" It screeched, terror in its voice. Eve lowered her gun.

  "It's just a kid, Trav." she said, relieved. The initial yelling had been been a bit of a fright, true, but at least it hadn't tried to attack them outright. The bundle- person, whatever, kept its hands raised, stiff and scared.

  "We're not gonna hurt ya." Trevor said. He offered the boy a hand. "Ya with anyone?"

  The kid shook his head. "It's just me." He took the proffered hand and lifted himself up, revealing a surprisingly short stature, and a pale face half-covered by a hood. He straightened his jacket, and pulled his gloves a little tighter over his hands. The survivors watched in silence.

  "So you're alone?" said Eve, a dubious tone lining her voice. The kid nodded.

  "How on God's green Earth did you manage to survive out here?"

  He shrugged, a little red rising to his pallid cheeks. "Running, mostly."

  "You ran," Eve echoed, flatly.

  He gave a nervous grin. "I don't like fighting much…"

  Trevor shook his head. "Must be a darn fast runner, then." Eve raised her eyebrow.

  You don't just go solo out here without becoming zombie chow. She thought to herself, but she didn't it for the time being. He didn't look all that malicious; scrawny, yeah, pale looking, true, but he looked more like a lost kid at a department store than a grizzled survivor.

  "The name's Eve." she said. sticking out her hand, and nodding in the other man's direction. "He's Trevor."

  The kid looked her outstretched arm blankly, as if he'd never encountered such a thing before. This struck Eve as odd; As ill-mannered as modern youth were, they usually knew how to shake hands.

  Suddenly, revelation seemed to dawn in his eyes, and he took her hand and shook it. His hold was surprisingly light, like he was afraid to break something with his grip, and the nervous smile he gave did nothing to alleviate her suspicions.

  "I'm Denver." he said, his voice and hand still shaking. Eve had to pull her hand away with force to get him to stop. She shot a look to Trevor.

  Sounds as fake as it comes, she thought, and the look on her partner's face confirmed that he agreed with her. "Where are you headed?"

  "Savannah." He replied, maybe a little quickly. "I'm… looking for someone."

  "In this mess?" Trevor mused. Denver avoided his gaze.

  "Yeah." His expression was unreadable- the jacket hood hid his face well- but the hunched shoulders, low voice, and general apathy when he said this made the air of defeat around him unmistakable.

  Eve softened her expression a little. "What kind of weapons are you carrying?" she said, though not unkindly.

  He shrugged again. "Um. Not really anything. Uh. I don't like fighting that much…"

  She shot another look at Trevor, and his expression was equally as incredulous. She jabbed a thumb at the door. Outside. Now. Trevor nodded.

  "We… need to talk." she told the kid, trying to hide her urgency, "Wait here."

  Denver nodded. " 'K." He made no movement, but stood awkwardly in the same spot as they turned away.

  It was only when the door thudded shut behind them Trevor spoke.

  "I don't trust him."

  Eve nodded in agreement. "Not by a mile and a half."

  He ran a hand through his balding, salt and pepper hair, shaking his head all the way. "How in the Lord's name could he have done it? He didn't even have a crowbar on him!"

  "Which makes him either harmless, or it mean's he's hiding something…"

  "You don't think he's with a group?"

  Eve shook her head. "We've been here too long. We'd notice. And I sure as hell didn't see any footprints going in."

  Trevor grunted, in a non conditional kind of way. "I still can't believe he can't come up with a better name than Denver."

  She snorted. "At least it isn't Hartford. Or Columbus."

  "I think if he was stupid enough to name himself Columbus, he wouldn't even be alive," he chortled.

  He stopped, and his smile faded. "Assuming he's telling the truth."

  Eve glanced at the door, warily. "Assuming that."

  There was a weighted silence, broken only by a sigh.

  "How long has it been?" she said, quietly. "Since we've seen another living thing?"

  "Five weeks." Trevor replied. "Unless you count that one guy who tried to throw a dried-ice bomb at us from the top of that hotel in Springfield."

  "He was a cerrero. No better than the infected."

  "So this one's an improvement."

  "I suppose." She glanced at the door again. "And three is no way to run a group."

  "We're taking him on, then?"

  "What else can we do? You're old. Russ' arm still isn't healed. And you know I'm an awful shot. We need every bit of firepower we can get. What if one of us gets hurt again? We'd need one to carry the other, maybe two, and at least one person to cover. If we get into another… incident, we're in for a hunk of arroz con cuolo."

  "Which is…?"

  "Rice with ass."

  "...Ah."

  "Though I suppose we're scraping the bottom of the barrel here."

  "Do you think he'll be useful?"

  She shrugged. "If he can make it out here without a gun, he could be Superman for all I care."

  "Some of those things are fast- he couldn't have run from all of them." Trevor hmphed. "We'll watch him?"

  "Of course. If he tries anything…"

  "We'll take care of it?" finished Trevor.

  "Yep." She nodded, and gripped the shotgun a little tighter.

  Eve banged on the door, making the above ceiling shudder and shed down a fine cloud of dust.

  "Kid, are you still in there?"

  "Yeah." Came the muffled reply.

  She wrenched the door open. The boy was still standing there, in the same spot, waiting, an innocent expression on what parts of his face the two could see.

  Eve narrowed her eyes. "Listen, Dallas…"

  "Denver."

  "Whatever. Here's the deal: we're headed the same way as you are. Frankly, you're the only living thing we've seen in weeks. You tag with us, and we'll take you as far as Charleston."

  "Really?" The kid's face seemed to brighten. Trevor nodded.

  "Just be sure to pull your weight. We don't know what's out there, and Russ won't be happy if he finds out we've taken on a slacker."

  "Russ?"

  "He's back in the safe room. He's a little…" Trevor searched for words for a moment- "Uh, rough, when you first meet him, but I'm sure he'll warm up to you just fine." he added, hastily. Eve nodded, still a little apprehensive.. "So, are you in?"

  The kid looked taken aback for a moment. "I-Yeah. Yes. Please. Charleston. It isn't far from Savannah, is it?"

  She appeared to think for a moment. "It's the same direction. I'd say about a week, week and a half's walk there from the city. Give or take."

  This seemed to satisfy Denver, and he cracked a smile. "Then I'm in."

  "One more thing." Trevor added. "The hood needs to go." he gestured to the ratty parka. Eve nodded in agreement
. "He's right. The last thing we need is for us to think you're one of the jumper dudes. That, and it cuts off your peripheral vision."

  "Jumper dudes?" He asked. His face, against all odds, turned a little more pale.

  "You know? Those horrible ones that jump out of nowhere and start tearing out your-" Trevor stopped. "Kid? Are you OK?"

  He seemed to snap out of it. "Sorry." he said, shaking his head, his voice sounding tired all of a sudden. "I'll take it off."

  Eve shrugged, and gave a sympathetic smile. "I know, it's kind of a hassle, but I don't want anything to hap- EL DIABLO!"

  Trevor gaped. "Lord…"

  "Huh? I-" The kid stared at the two in confusion.

  Eve swallowed, pointing. "Your… eyes. What happened to them?"

  "Oh." He touched the sides of his face, where the crisscrossed, painful-looking scar tissue was.

  "These."

  "They're, um. Healed. It was an accident." He paused. "From a while ago."

  "An accident?" Trevor whispered. Denver winced.

  "Yeah. Uh. I don't like to talk about it." He avoided their gaze.

  Trevor and Eve shared a look of bewilderment. "Eeeh- Sorry." Trevor winced. "I didn't mean to-"

  "It's fine." Denver cut in, his voice pained. "I'm past it."

  There was a moment of awkward silence. "It's getting dark." Eve said, finally, glancing out the window. "We need to get back."

  "Right." Said the other two. She turned to the kid. "Anything you need to take?"

  He scanned the room in a half-hearted sort of way, and gave a shrug. "No."

  "Then we're off." She said with a nod, and, with the other following her, turned out the door.

  Chapter 8

  My jacket still smells like cleaner.

  I wish I could still have my hood up. The cold keeps hurting my ears. But I think it's better than being shot.

  They don't know.

  I can't let them know.

  Maybe I shouldn't have said yes.

  But I still don't know the way to Savannah.

  The darker-looking one- Eve- is ahead of us. She's more awake looking. Always watching. Trevor is all pale and big and tired, and he smells like gas, and sort of like the rubbing alcohol Marcy used to keep in the cabin. He isn't looking as much,. Neither of them smell like they want to hurt me, but they're a little scared.

  But they don't know.

  They think I'm human.