by TW Brown
The girl with the red braids noticed it almost as soon as the cats bolted. She turned to it and cocked her head first one way, then the other. She seemed to be regarding it with curiosity. As it drew nearer to her, it began to make little yipping noises mixed in with its whimpering.
Alex stepped past me, a machete in each hand. I reached for her and she jerked away.
By now, the Golden had crawled to the feet of the little girl. It rolled over onto its back, another pitiful whine escaping it as it seemed to writhe on the ground at the zombie girl’s feet in hopes for some form of human contact.
The problem? That wasn’t a human it was trying to entice to give it some form of affection.
Things seemed to slow down as the zombie girl suddenly dropped to its knees. The Golden actually rolled into her. I realized that I’d stepped away from the group as well. While I hadn’t ventured as far out into the open as Alex, I was a good several feet away from the rest of the group that had stayed put this entire time.
The zombie girl’s head dropped, and I knew instantly what she was going to do. I was too far away to do anything, but that was also when I noticed that the other zombie children gathered around this playground had obviously spotted us.
There was a yelp and a howl that cut deep into my heart as the little girl bent all the way over, her face burying itself in the exposed belly of the Golden. That yelp was enough to send Alex charging.
“Get away, you evil bitch!” she yelled.
The little red-haired girl’s head popped up and turned almost in slow motion to confront her oncoming attacker. A fresh smear of red seemed even brighter as the sun hit her face and almost seemed to focus on her. The dog had struggled away and had gotten to its feet. Tail tucked between its legs, it darted into some nearby shrubs, its pained yelps fading, but still seeming to echo in my head.
I broke into a run as the children all changed like a switch was flipped. Alex reached the girl first and swung one arm, her machete taking the top third of the girl’s head off in an attack that was as brutal as it was anti-climactic.
By now, all of the other children had turned and began advancing.
5
No Right Answers
If it was only the few we’d first seen when that nightmare began, I doubt things would’ve gone so bad. I know all of us would’ve walked away from it alive. I wouldn’t be listening to the sobbing. And I wouldn’t have to sit here and wait for one of our very finite numbers to close their eyes one last time so that I can end their life before they awaken to join the legions of the walking dead that are outside.
We’re trapped. And I have to shoulder the blame. If I am the leader of this group, then I have to accept that it is my responsibility.
I’m still trying to let it all play out in my head and catalog my mistakes. If we survive this, I don’t want to make them again.
I won’t.
***
I veered toward the swing set and cut off three of the little horrors that were so focused on Alex that they didn’t turn to face me until I buried my own machete in the top of the first one’s head. I didn’t even notice if it was a boy or girl.
I spun and kicked out at the closest of the two remaining children that were near to me. That gave me enough space to stick the other child in her eye socket. By then, the one that I’d kicked was coming for me once more.
A part of my brain screamed that there was something very different about the children despite what was happening at the moment. I ended the third of the swing set trio and spun just in time to see at least ten more undead children emerge from the bushes.
I froze. I knew that Alex had ended the red-haired girl. I’d seen it with my own eyes, yet there she stood. She had been almost decapitated.
“Don’t just stand there,” Rickey snarled as he pushed past me and brought his own weapon to bear.
I hadn’t seen it until now, but he had what looked like one of those old-fashioned executioner’s or headsman’s axes. I’d seen something over his shoulder that had some sort of leather cover on it but had never thought to ask what it might be. Anybody else trying to wield such a weapon would probably have struggled with its apparent size. And judging by the sound it made as it cleaved through the air and then buried itself in the first zombie child unfortunate enough to come into range, this was not just a decorative item.
His swing came at an angle, but chopped into the head of the little boy that had foolishly stepped towards the big man. It cleaved through the head and split the body all the way to the hip in a horrific explosion of gore. With amazing agility, he brought the weapon around, spinning it by its long handle and driving the spiked end of the axe head into the side of the head of the next child.
Three children came at him from the side, and I was certain that he would go down, but he side-stepped and then brought the weapon up and across his chest. Using the haft as a barrier between himself and the oncoming little zombies, he caught all three across the chest, and with one massive shove, sent them tumbling onto their backs. He planted his weapon into the ground and drew a knife, quickly dispatching his would-be attackers.
I’d watched too long and now had two of them within striking distance. The closest was a little girl, maybe four years old. I caught her by one of her outstretched arms and slung her past me, then stuck the second one. My machete went too deep and the tip of it ended up bursting from the back of the little boy’s head I’d just ended. I tried to jerk the weapon free, but it caught on bone and would require more effort than I had time for at the moment.
I yanked a large knife free and spun to catch the girl who had, unfortunately, not fallen over. I grabbed her by the hair, my skin pebbling as she opened her mouth and let loose with that baby cry sound before snapping her teeth together in the empty space where my hand had been just a second ago. I shoved the knife into her milky, tracer-riddled eye and just as fast tossed her aside.
I took a step back and felt something solid collide with my shoulder. I spun to discover Alex with her hands both cocked back, each holding a blade that dripped with dark blood and gore. She had a crazed look on her face, and blood trickled down one cheek. It was dark enough that I knew it wasn’t hers, but my eyes couldn’t help but track the rivulet as it reached her jawline. The drop grew fatter and eventually lost its war with gravity, landing on the collar of the heavy jacket she wore.
“I told you,” she hissed. “They aren’t children…not anymore.”
With that, she moved to my left and started for another group of zombie children that emerged from the bushes…this group had several adult versions on their heels.
A bark from behind me made me spin around. Chewie had obviously jerked free from Michael, or the boy had simply let go of her leash. Whatever the case, she had bounded out from the woods and came charging toward me. People often thought that her size and easy, swaggering gait meant she was a slow dog. That was not the case, and as she came on the run, I couldn’t help but be impressed.
A low moan to my right made me spin back to the situation at hand. What I saw made my heart jump to my throat. Coming around the corner of a nearby unit were another thirty or more of the walking dead. And this group were all of the adult variety. That put them between us and the direction we wanted to go.
I thought things were as bad as they could get…until the single report of a pistol echoed in this canyon of abandoned condos. A scream came on the heels of it and I had to back up to get a look over my shoulder. Chewie wasn’t the only one charging out of the woods. The rest of our small band was coming like bats out of hell. I could only guess as to why, but unfortunately I didn’t have the time to wait and find out.
I turned to face the leading edge of adult zombies coming for us. The first one looked like he’d been working at a service station. He had grimy coveralls that were stained with oil (I hope) and a face that sagged with age and undeath in a very ugly combination. His jowls seemed to sway like a Bassett Hound’s. What was worse was the freshn
ess of the blood that stained his lips. When he opened his mouth and moaned, I could see that his teeth were also coated in a crimson sheen.
I ended his existence as I backed away. As I did, I could see that somehow we’d gotten ourselves surrounded. Zombies were now spewing forth from the trees we’d just come from—which explained why the others had come charging out—and more were coming from between another pair of long, rectangular buildings that might be garage complexes.
Even worse, we were spread out now. Alex had drifted away in her own fight. Marshawn was over by the basketball court holding off a batch while Rickey was in the bed of a pickup truck, his executioner’s axe acting like a scythe as it cut into the zombies gathered around him. Darya had her son Toby at her side as she turned first one direction then the other, waving the pistol she held like it might scare away her would-be attackers. She was babbling something through the sobs that were consuming her as several of the zombie children closed in, creating a noose-like circle of undeath. Tracy had made it on top of a Dumpster and was methodically driving her blade down into the tops of the heads of the zombies that could only come at her from the front since the Dumpster was in a walled-off garbage area that had eight-foot-high concrete walls on three of the four sides.
I had my own problems with the ten or so adult zombies that had managed to back me into a covered parking area. A row of hedges at my back wouldn’t be impossible to dive through, but they were thick enough that it would not be an easy escape route. I could hear Chewie barking off to my right, but it was unlike any sound I’d ever heard from her before. My eyes darted that way out of reflex.
If I wasn’t careful, I felt like I would eventually vomit my heart up. It was as if I could feel it climbing ever higher in my throat with each new terror I beheld. My beloved Newfie had backed onto a porch of one of the ground-floor units. Maybe she’d seen it as a cave or den. I have no idea, but she was now trapped by a wall of several child and adult zombies. It was also clear that she was going to die if I didn’t help. She was darting back and forth, her ears and tail down, and even from here, I could see the whites of her eyes
I took a step towards her just as a scream of terror snapped my head in the other direction. It took me a second to realize what I was seeing, and to be honest, I thought it was just a new and nasty trick of the undead children. After a second, it was clear that what I was seeing was an actual living child.
As soon as her eyes found mine, she reached in my direction and screamed for help. She had come out of one of the units and stood just outside of the sliding glass door. Three adult zombies were closing in, but that was only part of the problem. If it would’ve been just those three, she could’ve ducked back inside and maybe shut the door until somebody could get to her. Unfortunately, I could see the stirring behind her, and while they were only dark, shadowy figures at the moment, I had a good idea what waited for her inside that condo.
I took a step towards the child…again, it was simply a reflex action. The whining bark of Chewie froze me in my tracks. The child and my dog were in almost perfectly opposite directions from each other. In the blink of an eye, I could see that I was the only one who could respond to either at the moment.
“Nooo,” I moaned, realizing that there was no way possible I could get to both.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I cried as I took off at a sprint. I reached the zombies and dropped the first one before the scream rent the air and cut through every shout and moan with its intensity.
Chewie darted through the opening I’d created when I’d killed the first zombie. Just as fast, she spun around and sank her teeth into the back of the leg of one of the zombies as I made short work of another. The entire time, the screams continued. Hearing that little girl’s screams for her mommy…shrieking “No, no, no!” over and over drove spikes of guilt pain into my ears until a sickening gurgle ended them.
I turned to see a cluster of the undead on their knees around the child I’d just sentenced to a horrific and painful death. There was no comfort to be found in that I’d saved my Chewie. The reality was that I’d just made a choice that ensured the death of a child. Would I have made the same choice if it had been Michael? Would it be different if I’d been a parent?
I didn’t want to spend any more time in that dark place. If I did, I would end up throwing myself on the ground and letting the zombies have me next. Instead, I rushed over. I wanted to at least keep the child from joining the ranks of the undead…as one of the zombie children.
That thought spurred me forward. As I neared, I was greeted by yet more horror to stoke my guilt. One of the child’s legs was kicking out still. Weakly, sure, but those weren’t muscle spasms I was seeing. That was confirmed when I saw a tiny hand swat feebly at the side of the head of one of the kneeling undead.
At last, I reached the cluster of zombies. All of them had their back to me, and it was easy to grab the first one and jerk it back by the hair as I plunged my blade into the side of its head. Maybe it was an unconscious choice, but I’d grabbed one of the zombies at the girl’s feet.
I would never be ready to look that child in the eyes. Maybe I was hoping she would expire before that happened. Whatever the reason, I grabbed the next one and ended it as well.
I did this in a state of shocked autopilot. But at last, I had no other choices. The two remaining zombies both turned; whether it was because of a newer, fresher potential food source, or a simple case of realizing they were being attacked, I didn’t know, and I didn’t care.
I attacked the first one swiftly and ended it as it started to get to its feet. And that was when I got a really good look at the frail body sprawled on the ground.
She hadn’t even been five if I had to guess. Her blond hair was matted and filthy, and now it was fouled with blood from the expanding pool she lay in. Her torso was splayed open and a few splintered ribs jutted from the gore. How she had not yet simply died was beyond me. Maybe the adrenaline of fear kept her from the relief she would now only find in final death.
I managed to avoid her face as I ended the last of her attackers, but now I had no place else for my eyes to go. Her face was a rictus of pain and contorted in a way that no child should ever express. Her eyes were squeezed shut so tight that her forehead had creases and her lips pressed so tight they’d gone white. Blood had splattered her face, but tears had carved their own tracks, expanding the crimson with rivulets of pink in a hellish mask.
I knelt, switching the grip I had on my blade so I could just very quickly end her existence with one swift plunge. As I brought my arm up in preparation to strike…her eyes fluttered.
I was already fighting the urge to be sick as I faced the consequences of my choices. When those eyes fluttered, I had just a fraction of a second to hope to any deity that might exist that they would be filmed and tracer ridden. Instead, they were bloodshot in black, but there was no film…only more tears that leaked from the corners. She opened her mouth, but only blood came out in a misting spray.
There was no way she should still live. Her body had been savaged. I was already going to live with my guilt for an eternity, but the powers-that-be obviously decided that wasn’t good enough. A sickening gurgle came from the little girl, and I realized that I’d been just standing over her doing nothing but feeling sorry for myself while she suffered.
“I’m sorry,” I breathed as my arm drew back in preparation to come down with one swift swing and end her suffering.
And that would be the next horror to add itself to the agonizingly frightening slide show that played every single time I shut my eyes these days. Despite her pain, despite all that she’d endured, despite how close to the brink of death (and then undeath) she teetered, she still had enough presence remaining to be afraid of that blade as it came down.
The machete struck with finality, the tip of the blade making a ‘chink’ sound as it struck the concrete pad of the porch that would serve as this child’s final resting place. By now, th
e figure inside the condo had emerged. It was a woman, and I didn’t need to look closely to know that she was the dead girl’s mother.
I was about to step over the body at my feet when another scream sounded. This was close. Chewie had not left my side since I’d rescued her, and she actually ducked behind my legs when I turned to face whatever fresh hell awaited. Of course, that now put her between me and the undead mother moaning and shuffling toward me from the open sliding glass door, but I didn’t have time to give that any thought.
Darya was in a tug-of-war with a pair of undead children. The rope was the outstretched arms of her son, Toby. The little boy was thrashing and jerking, trying to get free of the zombie children, but he was only making it more difficult for his mother to keep her grip.
I took off at a sprint and felt Chewie loping at my heels. I could feel the elation rising in my chest as I realized that I would make it in time to help. I leapt over a few of the scattered bodies on the ground and slammed into the pair of zombie children, sending them flying backwards.
I heard rather than saw Toby and his mom crash to the ground behind me. I rolled over and came to my feet, spinning around to see that I hadn’t been completely successful. There were still more of the undead moving in, and now, both Darya and Toby were on the ground, basically helpless since the gun Darya had been holding had gone spinning away someplace.
One of the adult versions fell on Toby and I didn’t need to see the jet of blood that came; his scream said it all. For the second time in moments, a child was shrieking for his mommy. I sprinted, but not for the child. Darya was still able to be saved since the two zombies coming for her hadn’t managed to get their hands on her yet as she scooted back and kicked out with her feet.
A blur of black sped past me and Chewie reached her first, leaping and catching the first zombie with the full force of her hundred and twenty-plus pounds. The child zombie never stood a chance and landed on its back so hard that its head slammed into the blacktop with an ugly crack.