The chaser drops to its knees and ceases any further aggressive behavior. I tug at the blade, trying to remove it from the creature’s skull. More yowls clearly sound from the other, beckoning me to work faster.
“That doesn’t sound like one at a time,” Shane nervously mentions.
“I never said it was foolproof. I was just hoping for the best case here.” I finally wiggle the blade free as another body breaks around the corner. Shane rams the tip of his blade into the side of its head. He presses his forearm into the chaser’s smirched rags and drives it back against the wall hard. The impact makes a dull thud. A final howl escapes its mouth as it slumps forward lifelessly.
The steady thump of feet pounding on pavement echoes down the alley—the combined growls of the infected drawing closer.
I brush past Shane, and dart for the corner of the building just as another chaser materializes. I swing the machete as hard as I can at the creature’s neck. The blade slices through its black flesh with ease and emerges out the other side. The head tilts to the right and tumbles down the right side of its body.
It stumbles a few more feet, with its arms wildly searching for anything to grab onto, before falling to the ground. Its head bounces past me with eyes wide and full of carnal rage. Its teeth chatter up and down as it continues on through the overgrown vegetation.
Three down. Three to go.
I step out onto the sidewalk, and confront the remaining chasers who are within arm’s reach. Their once dormant and vegetative state has given way to the ravenous fiends who have gnawed through the western world. I strike the creature closest to me at an angle. The blade cleaves a portion of its jaw free from its gaunt face. A thin strand of muscle keeps the dangling bone in place as the chaser stumbles off to the side.
The remaining two crash into me, knocking me down to the concrete hard. I hit with a dull thud, and the air rips from my lungs. The bulk of the automatic rifle burrows into my spine, causing me to grimace in pain. They converge on me with rapacious hands, frantically reaching for my body.
I thrust my legs at the chasers, trying to keep them at bay. Shane charges the creatures and collides with them. He knocks them off balance, and stumbles back into the street.
“You good?” He reaches down and offers me his hand.
“Yeah. Let’s finish these freaks off.” I take his hand, and he pulls me to my feet. The chasers regain their focus. Shane and I step away from one another. The creatures split apart, and pick their targets.
They growl and bare their teeth. I charge full steam ahead, and bury the dense blade of the machete into the chaser’s upper right shoulder, the nice meaty part between the collar bone and the bottom of its throat, as it tries to strike me with its right arm.
Blood rushes down its mangled flesh.
The sanguine fluid stains the front of its tattered blue sweatshirt. I slide the machete down and out of the chaser’s torso. I continue my assault, hacking away on the wounded area until the chaser falls to the cement, lifeless.
Shane spins the large knife about while holding the remaining chaser at bay. His palm is pressed into its chest. Its teeth chatter as voracious yowls spew from the creature’s gaping cavity. He plunges the tip of the blade into the bottom of its jaw. The gleaming silver of the steel vanishes into the chaser’s head. Blood rushes down past the hilt and onto Shane’s hand. He holds it fixed inside the chaser’s skull for a second longer before pulling it out.
A disgusted, yet satisfying, look washes over his face. He steps back and allows the dead weight of the chaser to crumble to the cement. Staring at him, I wonder briefly if that is how I look when I take one of the creatures’ lives.
Shane looks at me with exhausted, heavy eyes. His chest heaves from the excretion of our heated battle with the infected. He flicks his hand, trying to rid his flesh of the chaser’s bodily fluids.
“You know, before all of this started, I never imagined that I would be doing such things to people. But now, after I’ve killed as many of these things as I have, the shock of the act lessens with each time I do it. I’m not sure if that sounds depraved or creepy, but I’m numb to it all now.” Shane wipes the blood off on the sides of his pants, followed by his hand. The disgusted expression that sat on his face has all but vanished.
“It’s a matter of survival now,” I coldly reply. “I don’t view them as people anymore. They’re nothing more than mindless animals who have no thought or regard for life. At least, that’s how I look at it.”
Shane adjusts the strap of the shotgun that’s secured across his chest. He glances my way, and gives me a confirming nod. “Guess it’s best to look at it like that. Makes it bearable to do what is needed.” He takes stock of our handy work, glaring at the dispatched bodies who lay in pools of their own blood. “Probably need to get back on the move before more show up.”
“Lead the way.”
Shane keeps the knife grasped firmly within his hand as we start across the street. We hop up on the sidewalk, and make our way down to the corner of the building. Both of our heads remain on a swivel as we keenly look out for any more chasers.
He slows his pace, and approaches the edge of the building with cautious footing. I stay close behind with the machete hovering in the air. He peers out and to the right. He doesn’t look back, but waves his hand, signaling to me that the coast is clear.
We continue on through the remainder of the small town. Shane sticks close to the buildings and any alleyways that will keep us out of sight of the chasers, and the people who took Cassie.
Through the silence of the town, and the crunching of the loose gravel under our boots, I continue to chew on what he said about the chasers, and Cindy. I think of Mom and Dad—their faces contorted in rage, eyes void of any love for their only son. I feel as though that’s the main reason why I have grown so numb to killing the vile creatures without thought or hesitation. Like a thief in the night stealing my most treasured possessions, this plague has robbed me of so much, and continues to try and pick my pocket at every turn.
I pray that Cindy is safe, and has not fully made the transition into one of those abominations. I’m not sure I’ll be able to withstand that devastating blow.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The thought of everything that I have lost, my mom and dad, and what I stand to lose, Cassie and Cindy, tries its best to distract me, and send me into a tailspin of despair and anger. I’m trying to manage the anger, guilt, and sadness inside me as best as I can, though. With each day that passes, the fight to remain hopeful and steadfast in my mission doesn’t waiver, much. Not without this apocalypse trying, though. It’s persistent in its attacks, but staying on the move and not giving my mind enough time to dive into that horrid place has helped. As much as the rational side of my mind keeps whispering to me that my family is all but gone, I remain hopeful. At the end of the day, that’s all I have left. Hope.
Shane has remained silent since our skirmish with the infected. He’s been vigilant with our path that has taken us across the town through alleyways and weed covered plots of land. He’s kept us out of the open and mostly shielded from any chasers in the area.
Fortunately, the chasers have been few and far between, which made dispatching the creatures that much easier. We haven’t had to use our guns fortunately. Our sharp weapons have done the brunt of the killing.
Shane has proved to be more than capable of taking care of himself. Not that I had any doubts. Given the dead state of the country and all, coupled with the lack of authority to keep everything in check, any souls still pushing forward are more than likely tough enough to survive. His brief moment of vulnerability from earlier did take me by surprise, considering we really don’t know each other like that. But still, I get why it happened. You either let it out, and free yourself from the shackles of that guilt and anger, or you allow it to fester deep inside your soul until it rots you to your core.
My approach to dealing with my demons has been less than perfect, but at
least I am, regardless if it’s good or bad.
“How much farther do we have.” I move up, just to the left of Shane, and walk by his side.
His gaze is long and deep. Eyes narrowed and peering dead ahead. “Shouldn’t be too much farther. I think it should-” Shane comes to a grinding halt without warning.
The sudden action sends me on edge. The machete springs up in the air instantly. My head surveys the area around us, seeking for the incoming threat. “What is it? What do you see?”
A concerned look floods his face as he takes off. His eyes widen slightly, mouth agape, as he stands motionless and acting as if he is searching for something. I don’t hear anything that would cause such a sudden response. Still, I follow his lead.
Our feet hammer the pavement of the road we’re traveling along. I continue searching for what has him spooked, but see and hear nothing.
There is something on the side of the road, though. I see it now. Looks to be a discarded backpack. Black, with the fabric tattered and frayed.
Shane slows his pace. He stares at the backpack as if it looks familiar somehow. He looks up, and places the ridge of his palm just above his brow. He looks to his left at the buildings across the street, then to his right.
“Hey, what is it?”
A sad and worried look overtakes Shane. He places both hands on the back of his head as he continues to look aimlessly in every direction. “It’s my brother’s gear.”
I skim the area as well in search of his kin. Much like him, I see nothing.
“There are any number of reasons why he may have had to ditch it,” I reply. “I imagine he’s ok.” I try to allay his fear, to keep him from losing it, but I see the speckles of blood on the outside of the pack. Still, I try to ease his worries. I know all too well what happens when one drifts into the darkness of their mind. It’s not a good place to be.
“I bet those scumbags took or killed him,” Shane growls. His fingers continually reposition themselves over the handle of his knife. He paces back and forth as he mutters under his breath. “I should’ve gone with him. He shouldn’t have gone alone. Damn it.”
I try to defuse the situation as fast as I can. “Listen, I imagine your brother can handle himself. We don’t need to jump to any conclusions since we don’t know what exactly happened here.” My words have little to no effect on his boiling hysteria that is circling the drain of a meltdown. He growls and grits his teeth. His hands ball into tightly clenched fists that turn his knuckles a milky white. Some choice words escape from his lips. He’s not stupid, and I’m not naïve. By nature, now, I tend to think the worst and hope for the best. “Listen, I get what you’re dealing with, I really do, but you’re going to have to keep it together, at least until we have what we’re after. If you can’t do that, then you need to head back, and I’ll go at it alone.”
Shane squints his eyes and looks down on me as if I’ve said something that he doesn’t understand. I know that’s not the case, however. He’s just so consumed by the emotions flooding his body he’s struggling to reign them all in.
“I’m not going back without my sister and brother,” he snarls.
I hold up my hands in the air, and take a step back from Shane. I’m not foolish, and don’t want to get into a fight with him. That’s the last thing we need. Besides, people tend to lash out when they’re in such an emotional state.
“I agree. I’m not going back without my friend either, but the only way we’re going to accomplish that is if we’re thinking clearly and not acting on emotion.”
Man, if Lucas could hear me now. He’d probably be thinking, “Where have I heard that before?”
Shane breathes out the wad of emotion that has him shackled, and unable to think clearly. He offers me a subtle nod while adjusting the beanie on his head. He scoops up the backpack from the road. At least he appears to be more in control.
I give him some space, and allow him to vent what remainder of frustration is clinging inside of him. He paces about for a few moments. He exhales deep breaths as he places both hands on the back of his head. It doesn’t go away that fast, but it can be repressed until it can be properly dealt with at a later time.
Shane finally stops and removes the shotgun. He slips the straps of the pack over his shoulders. He fixes the weapon between the backpack and his person and gets back on the move. He doesn’t say anything, but he really doesn’t need to.
I fall in line behind him, following a good distance back. With his rigid and aggressive body language, he acts as though he wants that. I think now we have an understanding of how we need to proceed from here. At least, I hope we do. Lives depend on it. The girls and ours.
The full brunt of the sun’s exposure casts its warm glow over the town, causing my eyes to squint slightly from the strident rays. I grab the bill of my hat and bring it about face. I pull it down a bit farther to where it’s just a scant inch above my brow.
Thinking back, I don’t recall the last time there was this much sun. It feels like an eternity since I’ve seen it last. Perhaps it has been, and I haven’t even noticed. It’s still fairly early in the morning, though. Clouds could still come rolling in and blot its rays.
Having the sun out has been a nice change of pace. It’s not too cold, but it’s not too hot either. Just the right mixture at the moment. My body has been running like a flamethrower as of late, so it’s been bearable, and even pleasant.
Most times, I feel like if I was to jump into a mound of snow, I’d probably melt it instantly. Could be teenager hormones going rampant, or just me being pissed off at the world twenty-four/ seven. One is a lot, both is a recipe for disaster. Or so Dad would say, but much more colorfully.
Neither Mom or Dad was looking forward to me becoming a teenager, or so they jokingly told me when I was younger. I think they were afraid I’d be too much like them. They would tell me stories of the things they did when they were my age, and of how their parents would get so upset at them. Their parents warned them that when they had kids, they would be just as bad, if not worse than what they were. I enjoyed proving that wrong. Aside from the occasional whining and moaning about doing chores, I never really did too much to get my parents truly pissed off. I imagine those moments were coming. Guess it’ll never happen now.
Damn it, James. There you go again. Thinking of the past.
It always happens like that, though. Memories slip in through the tiniest of cracks and pull at my heartstrings. Most times, I try to shake it off. I don’t want it to weaken me, and turn my focused mind into a mushy pile of scathed feelings. But this time, instead of fighting it, I try something different. I allow it in, and embrace those good times. My heart has so much darkness filling it that I need to try and bring some of the humanity back in. I can still be tough, and hold myself to doing what is needed to survive, but I can’t lose feeling something more in this life. Friendship and love, for my extended family, and Cindy.
We continue along the road. Shane stops and sidesteps toward the field that is off to our right. I follow his lead, and do the same. We kneel down and enter the overgrown, tall, brown blades of grass.
“A truck is heading this way,” he says flatly. His head is trained toward the road.
“Is it them?” I inquire. My heart starts to beat faster from the thought.
“Not sure, but I don’t think we need to take the chance either way.” He points dead ahead through the thick foliage. “See that large building up ahead?”
I move up and hunch down to the right of him. I stay low to the ground and crane my neck. It’s hard to see clearly, but I see enough to know what he is referring to.
“Yeah. Is that where they’re keeping them?”
He lowers his arm.
“I think so. I know it’s in this general area from what my brother… Hold on.” Shane places his right arm over my shoulder and pushes me even farther toward the ground. The grumbling of an engine captures my ears, and sends my attention to the road. We peer through the gra
ss, and find a truck heading this way. Can’t tell for sure, but it could be those people who took Cassie. I’d rather assume that it is than not. I really don’t want to risk it.
Whoever it is, doesn’t seem to be in a hurry. We still remain hidden, though.
It passes by us without stopping or slowing down. My head twists back over my shoulder as I push away Shane’s arm that is still draped over me. I lift up a bit, and crane my neck over the tall verdure. I notice two guys sitting in the bed of the truck with their backs against the cab. They look to be holding rifles, or at least I think that’s what I see in front of them.
Bastards.
Shane tugs at my arm.
I stoop down and point to the truck. “I think that was them. I saw a few guys in the back with what looked like rifles.”
“That’s good,” Shane says. “Means they won’t be there. One less thing we have to worry about.”
He’s right. I offer one last glance to the truck as it disappears behind a building within the downtown area.
With his knife still clutched tightly in his palm, Shane taps me on the arm to get my attention. I glance back to him just as he starts to stand up.
“Come on. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
We crossed through the field swiftly, using the tall blades of dead grass as cover. Our feet move with purpose, heads on a swivel as we approach the side of the large structure. Shane pauses, and takes a knee at the edge of the field where the tall weeds end, and the lot of the building begins. I lower down and take a deep breath next to him.
It’s getting warm, or at least to me it is. My jacket is thick, and contains my body heat well. With the exertion, all the moving around, and the sun beating down on us, I’m feeling a bit overheated. I swipe the sleeve of my coat across my brow, and wipe away the beads of sweat that race down from under my cap. I grab the zipper, and pull it down some, allowing the heat to escape, and the wind to seep in and cool me off.
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