She collapses against the hood of the car in a fit of breathless coughs that turn into a dry heave as she tries desperately to breathe. There’s only one bike but I don’t think she could ride if she tried right now. I grab it off its hooks and hop on before both tires have hit the cement floor.
“Hurry, get on my back!”
She latches on, wrapping her legs around my waist. Her hands squeeze my chest and hold on for dear life as she coughs and wheezes, fighting against her body, willing it not to shut down. Not now.
My feet hit the pedals just as the first few slam into the car Felecia was leaning against not even three seconds ago. They’re so close I can hear their cold hearts pounding in their chests.
The thick tires find traction on the front lawn and we’re off. We used to ride the trails behind Paul’s house. I’m not as good as the guys but I can hold my own. When I say the guys, I’m assuming you know Doug is not included in that list seeing as how the training wheels prevented him from leaving the pavement.
We fly off the curb, heading straight for the small pack of savages running full speed in our direction. Ahhh, Noah Britton doesn’t do stunts, I was too scared to pop a wheelie until, let’s just say I was older than I’d like to admit. I don’t like this, I don’t like this, I don’t like this. How high is this freakin’ curb? It feels like we’ve been in the air for hours.
I swing my sword before we finally hit the street, coming down off our death defying six inch jump. His head goes airborne as we whizz by, hitting the pavement and cruising between the second and third zombies so fast they crash into each other while diving after us.
I did it! Did everyone just see that? I stuck the landing. We just hopped the curb. Move over Evil Kenevil!
I was worried about Felecia throwing off my balance but she’s wrapped around me so tight, it’s like having a hundred pound backpack strapped to my shoulders. I can’t say I mind too terribly much.
“Gimme your sword,” Felecia wheezes as we approach the final two hobblers, the slowest in this little group of rebels running in the wrong direction.
I gladly hand it over, it’s not exactly easy to steer a bike at top speed while clutching a medieval blade in your hand.
We’re aimed to squeeze directly between them, counting on me pedaling fast enough to avoid turning this into a head-on collision. My butt cheeks clench so tight there’s a strong possibility they’ve swallowed the entire seat like it’s a thong.
Swords extend on both sides of me, severing their heads as we zip between the pair of incoming corpses in a deadly game of bicycle jousting. That settles it, we are competing at the next renaissance fair, and we are dominating.
She’s holding herself up with nothing but her battered and bruised stomach muscles, her legs wrapped around my waist so tight that I’d be pooping if my butt wasn’t currently swallowing an entire bike seat. Her hands go back to their normal position against my chest, one sword in each.
“Sorry,” she pants. “My ribs… I just couldn’t go any further.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing. You are incredible,” I shout over my shoulder, an influx of oxygen attempting to drown out my words. But I won’t let it. “The fact that you’re still going, you are the strongest person I’ve ever known.”
“I learn from the best,” she whispers in my ear, causing my heart to beat even faster than it already was. It must sound like there’s a hummingbird flying around inside my chest. “I’m not hurting you, am I? My legs?”
“No, it feels amazing.”
“Noah,” she gasps, the smile on her face audible in her tiny voice, “are you saying you want my legs wrapped around you?”
“At all times. As tight as you possibly can. And don’t ever think about letting go.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She punctuates her breathy whisper with a kiss on my ear, and I’m pretty sure nothing in the world could feel better. “There’s the main road. What now?”
“We still need a car if we’re gonna get there in time. How far are they?”
“Far,” she says after a quick turn of her head. “We’re definitely losing them.”
“Why does it sound like they’re getting closer? Is that a car? I swear it sounds like an engine.”
“You hear that too?”
Headlights. Those are headlights on the road. They’re muted but there’s no doubt about it, that’s a car. And it’s moving, the lights are getting closer. We’re maybe three houses from the end of the street, if we can make it to the main road in time, we might be able to flag them down.
I swear, we’re not your average hitchhikers. We can fight these bastards like you’ve never seen before. We have a way out of here. Plus, we might know how to stop the infection. They have to help us.
I pedal faster, but it’s too late. They go speeding by, bodies clinging to every square inch of the vehicle. They’re on the roof, the trunk, getting dragged by the bumper, the hood. That’s why the headlights were so dim, they’re being blocked by the feet of zombies holding onto the wiper blades of what I’m assuming is an SUV, but I can’t actually see enough of it to be sure.
“Left, Noah, go left!”
There’s a mob of them running down the road, chasing after the car. Some of them are still rolling, thrown off of it no more than a second or two ago. Which leaves us one direction, we’re following the zombie mobile whether we want to or not.
“Legs!” Felecia wails.
The one being dragged by the bumper, not because he’s stuck and can’t free himself but because he’s hanging on for dear life or dead life or whatever they call it, and the road rash has apparently torn him in half. His mangled calves roll along the road before coming to a stop, nowhere near one another.
The zombie covered car swerves abruptly, tossing one of them from the roof. He hits the road and bounces, sending him straight towards us. These are speeds I am not comfortable with. Noah Kenevil doesn’t like this at all. Shit shit shit. His arm. Oh no, we just ran over his arm.
The bike flies into the air so high we’re in danger of getting tangled in the powerlines. Might have exaggerated how much air we got but it doesn’t change the fact that we’re airborne.
We land a second later on wobbly wheels. You got this Noah. It’s no different than jumping over a root. You’ve done it a thousand times. This is no different. Except we’re going 30 mph which feels more like a hundred but I know it’s only 30 because the nifty little speedometer on my handlebars says so. Have you ever run over a human arm at 30 mph on a damn mountain bike? I feel like I’m in one of those high speed chase scenes where vehicles are getting thrown off the back of a car carrier. It’s cool to see onscreen, but not coming at you in real life.
“Noah, the ones that were chasing after us, on the side street, they just reached the main road. There’s gotta be over a hundred.”
“There’s a sign. I think we’re coming into town. If we can get far enough ahead, it’ll give us a minute or two to find a car. How you doing back there?”
“I can breathe. It hurts, but I can do it. I’m not gonna be able to run yet. God, my ribs are killing me.”
“They’re probably broken, or the very least, bruised. Blake swung that paddle with everything he had.”
“Asshole. I can’t believe I ever dated him. My stupid mom. I hate myself for ever listening to her. Right before knocking up my best friend, turns out he banged my sister. Got her pregnant too.”
“He what?”
“Hannah. They never knew I knew. He saw the test in the bathroom and thought it was mine. He thinks I got rid of his baby. But it was her. Tonight, at prom, I would have asked you to run away with me. Even if just for the summer.”
“I would go anywhere with you. And never, ever treat you like they did.”
“I know,” she whispers, cuddling up even closer, pushing her cheek against mine. “We would have– look out!”
I clutch the brakes as hard as I can. The back wheel locks up and slides a
cross the pavement.
“It’s too late, we’re gonna crash!” The car must have slammed on its brakes, swerving, trying to detach the stubborn hood ornaments. It worked, they’re missing a few of them, but at what cost?
“Side street!”
I let off the brake and make the turn, narrowly missing a rolling body that looks more like a Ferrari falling off the back of a car carrier to me.
Felecia lets out a huge breath in my ear, and had she not peed for a couple minutes straight at the cabin, she’d probably have tinkled a little just now. Can’t lie, I might have wet myself a wee bit as well. That was way too close for me to be okay with.
“What the hell are they doing? Noah, they’re backing up. There’s more coming down the street. How are we supposed to get a car? They’re everywhere.”
“Hold on!”
Her koala grip tightens around me as we cut through a driveway because I have nowhere else to go. They’re coming from every angle. Please don’t ask me how I’m able to see where we’re going because I can’t.
“Can you see?” she shrieks. “I can’t see anything.”
I told you not to ask. I can’t see a damn thing.
Lights in the next yard, maybe, I don’t know, maybe streetlights beyond that. It was this or slam into a pack of children eating something in the road. And now they’re hoping to add us to the menu. I can hear their little feet pounding the pavement. They’re gaining on us. Or is there one in front of us? All I know is someone’s somewhere and I can’t see a god damn thing.
A motion sensor spotlight kicks on in the neighbor’s backyard.
Shit! He was in front of us.
CHAPTER 8
I yank the handlebars, sending us skidding on the grass, crashing sideways into a house. Okay, did not know that was there. Who the hell put a house in front of us? The tree cover’s blocking out the moonlight.
Felecia swipes the sword across Creepy McCreeperton’s throat when he lunges for us as we lean against the side of the house for balance. The pack of feral children we almost ran down are too close for comfort. They don’t care that we need a moment to rest and collect ourselves, now that we can see again.
They’re literally everywhere. How are we supposed to get out of this?
I kick off the wall and pedal as fast as I can but my legs are getting tired. The adrenaline is beginning to drain me. It’s just nonstop, constant, no time to rest. We need a second to catch our breath. We can’t keep going like this. We can’t. We’re not even getting anywhere. We need to be on our way back to the hospital. And we don’t have a car yet. Even if we did, these assholes are clogging up every street this stupid city has.
“Right, right, go right!”
Where the hell are they all coming from? I get that this is Bayport but shouldn’t they have moved on by now? Did they just stand around, staring at their hands, waiting for us to arrive?
Dammit. Right was a bad move. Bad move! They’re coming from this direction too. Where are we supposed to go? There’s too many to try to weave through, we’ll never make it.
I jump the curb and head into another yard, because it worked so well last time. But what other choice do I have?
Lights, I can see lights. A business? It’s an alley. That’s gotta be the main road on the other end, it’s too lit up not to be. There must be a car we can take. There has to.
Oh no! We’re not gonna fit. It’s too narrow! This is like that John Candy movie my mom makes us watch every Thanksgiving, where the car squeezes between the tractor trailer trucks on the freeway. I can’t stop!
I squeeze the brakes but it’s too late, the handlebars bang off the brick wall. We’re between the buildings. We’re gonna die!
Wait, okay, not as narrow as I thought, we have a few inches to spare on each side. It’s not exactly comfortable but it’s alright, we got this.
Okay, how long do these buildings need to be? Shouldn’t there be an ordinance against stuff like this? New rule, if a car can’t fit, the space is too small. No need to have an alley so tiny you can spread your arms and touch both buildings. Completely uncalled for. Someone get the local comptroller on the phone! No clue what the comptroller does but it sounds like it should fit in their job description.
They’re slamming off the buildings, all trying to jam themselves into the tight quarters at the same time. Which means they are a lot freakin’ closer than I thought. We’ve only been in this alley for about six and a half minutes, maybe seven. Fine, it feels like it’s been minutes but it’s been maybe five seconds. Which means they’re no more than five seconds behind us and I am not okay with that.
If I pedal any faster we’re going to crash off the walls, this place is pothole city. Who’s in charge of paving the alleyways? I’m gonna need to speak to someone’s manager. Oh the Bayport comptroller is going to get an earful from me, whether this bumpy, narrow ass alleyway falls under their jurisdiction or not.
Someone steps into the light at the end of our tiny tunnel, blood dripping from his mouth. Apparently claustrophobia is no concern to him. He races towards us.
Felecia’s legs tighten around my waist. I can hear her unsteady breath catch in her throat, probably the first real breath she’s taken since we hopped on the bike and this son of a bitch goes and ruins it.
I don’t know what to do. We can’t turn back. Think I can jump over him, like I did the curb? It’s basically the same thing. Oh who am I kidding? That curb was so small it’d be hard to trip over.
I do the only thing I can think of and pedal faster. I don’t know, shut up, leave me alone. I don’t know what else to do.
The handlebars slam into his stomach so hard his upper half lunges forward from the impact. I can feel the front tire grinding against his groin, ripping his genitals apart with no remorse. His basketball shorts offer little to no protection. I can’t stop myself from wincing at the thought of it.
He lifts his gruesome face, thrusting that vile mouth towards my arm. I can’t take it off the handlebars, we’ll crash. The potholes in this alley are impossible to avoid, every time we hit one, this thing wants to bump against the walls. And the ones behind us are only getting closer. We can’t slow down. I’m running out of ideas.
I yank my hand back, narrowly missing his viper-like strike. I can’t do this with one hand, I’m losing control already. These potholes from hell are throwing us all over the place. But the second I reach out to grab the handle, he attacks again.
Only, this time, his face rams into the tip of a blade. Felecia jams it deeper into his mouth, twisting, giving me the opportunity to safely steer us out of this mess. Every movement sends the blade deeper into his face, keeping him far enough away that his teeth pose no significant threat. That’s my girl. That is my fucking girl. I can always count on Felecia. Always!
We emerge from the urban canyon, flying like a bat out of hell with the ugliest bike basket you’ve ever seen. I squeeze the brakes so hard that the little levers might be permanently attached to my fingers from here on out. Pretty sure they’ve become one.
His body sails right over the sidewalk and comes to a skidding halt in the middle of the street. Well, most of him. His tongue is stuck on the tip of Felecia’s blade. And I can’t be sure but I think that’s a peni– yep, it most certainly is. It’s stuck between two of the spokes, resting against the reflector. And mine just tucked itself away forever at the thought of it.
We’re downtown. This is Main Street, or, Eastern Avenue I guess, the one with all the shops on it. It should be Main Street but it’s not. Main Street runs along the coast, where the amusement park is.
The amusement park, that’s where all these kids are coming from.
Our bike ornament bounces to his knees before he’s even done skidding to a stop, shredding his skin through his torn shorts without the slightest concern. He jumps to his feet and runs for us, blood pouring from the giant gash between his legs. Well that is one zombie who will not be getting any undead lovin’ from his fellow re
animated corpses. He looks like a Ken doll if Barbie caught him sleeping with Skipper. What, don’t look at me like that, I have a little sister. It’d be weirder if I didn’t know the dolls’ names.
I can hear the Children of the Corn racing down the alleyway behind us, trampling each other in the confined corridor. I don’t know what way to go but staying here is not an option. I don’t even know what our options are at this point. At the rate we’re going, finding a car is growing less likely by the second.
“Noah, that hissing noise, please tell me that is not a tire.”
Oh you’ve got to be shitting me. We just lost the back wheel. One of those potholes must have done it. How far can you go on a flat? I know it damages the rim. Is this thing going to fall apart underneath us?
All I can do is put my feet to the pedals and push this hunk of metal as far as it’ll go. The kids will be piling out of the alley any second and the castrated cadaver clearly isn’t waiting for us to make up our minds.
This flat tire is killing us, I can’t get any speed. Why are we barely moving?
“Noah, he’s got my hair!”
Felecia removes one of her hands from my chest. I can feel her swinging her sword but it’s not doing any good. At that angle, there’s no way she can decapitate him. Her only hope is chopping off the arm that’s grabbing her.
I stand to get more leverage, his added weight is slowing us down too much. I can hear the pack of kids piling out from between the buildings, their roar growing louder as they hit the street, amplified by the three story store fronts on both sides of us.
We’re picking up steam. It’s working. I push down on the pedals hard enough to burn my thighs. My knees creek and groan with every rotation. I can’t do this much longer. My legs are going to give out on me again. I can’t keep overworking them like this with no real rest in between. We were on the motorboat for all of ten minutes, other than that it’s go go go. And with a popped tire, I think we’ve hit the end of the line. It’s time for a new plan.
Blood Type Infected (Book 4): Betrayal of Hope Page 5