by Bonnie Dee
Daylon chopped off the not-quite-dead zombie’s ruined head with his axe, then he stood over the zombie’s still form, breathing hard. I checked for more attackers looming out of the shadows before I went to look down into the water. The surface was ruffled by the splashing of the two zombies paddling to keep afloat.
“Wonder how long they can keep that up.” Daylon stared over the edge with me.
It was mesmerizing but there was no more time to stand there watching as two of my phones rang at once. I tossed one to Daylon and answered the other.
“Team Eight reporting.” Jim remembered to use his squad’s code name. “A few creatures passed our checkpoint but not so many we couldn’t kill them. There are more coming right now.”
“Remember, don’t use any more ammo than you have to. You’re supposed to head them this way not shoot them,” I warned the eager marksman. I ended the call then checked in with Fes again. “How’s it going?”
“It’s like we rang a dinner bell. They’re following our convoy. But the cattle are freaking out and trying to get away, which doesn’t make it easy to drive. Hold on...”
I the bawl of a terrified cow in the background and an argument between Fes and his partner then he came back on the line. “Can’t talk now. Thing’s are heating up. Ashleigh’s team is having a problem.”
“What?” Fear roared through me like a freight engine. “What the hell is she doing there?”
“Didn’t she tell you? She’s with Stan. Gotta go.” The phone went dead.
I tried to call back but the phone rang until it went to voicemail. I cursed, kicking myself for not checking with Ashleigh before I left town. I’d assumed she was safe. It never occurred to me she’d put herself at risk. I was furious. I’d told her to stay put. Why couldn’t she have listened? Didn’t she know it would destroy me if she got hurt or killed?
“Stop daydreaming?” Daylon shouted from where he stood on the hood of the rig, keeping lookout. “Incoming. This is no time to zone out.”
I forced myself to stop fretting about Ashleigh as a half dozen more zombies came out of the cornfields into the grassland, heading our way.
* * * * *
Chapter Eighteen
My cow was thrashing and fighting against the rope tying her to the tailgate of the pickup I was driving. The force of the animal’s struggles shook the vehicle and I fought to keep us on the road. Zombies were coming out of the fields on either side of the road and grabbing at her. We were drawing them like flies to a picnic, which was great except I was afraid our cow was going to be eaten alive before we ever reached the reservoir.
“Turn right at the next road,” my partner, Stan said before shooting through the open rear window. The pistol’s report was deafening practically right next to my ear and the small caliber gun didn’t make a dent in the zombies, but shooting seemed to make Stan feel better. “Can’t you drive any faster?”
“Not if we want Bossy to keep up. We won’t get anywhere dragging her dead weight behind us.” Stan was not my favorite person right now. I wished I was with Carl or Daylon or even Tanesha, who was more capable than she let on. I wanted to be with somebody I knew instead of this rude hick from Farmville. But Fes had paired me with someone local to direct me to the reservoir.
“There! Turn right there!” Stan stabbed his finger toward the windshield, blocking my vision with his arm.
I cramped the wheel to the right, but even after he moved his arm I couldn’t see the road. There were too many zombies in our path. I couldn’t go forward without running into them. Bodies blocked the headlights so I only caught glimpses of clothing, torsos, arms and faces. I pressed on the gas, trying to push through the crowd. The gears whined and we barely moved. Zombies beat on the windows, the hood and the body of the pickup then they began to rock it. Some climbed into the bed and started hitting the rear window which Stan had slammed closed. We were surrounded by the silent horde, pummeling the vehicle in a vain effort to get to us. The cow was bellowing and plunging and I wondered if they’d managed to bite through her tough hide.
“Hit the gas.” Stan’s work boot covered mine and he pressed down, crushing my foot.
“I’m trying. Stop it!”
The truck lurched forward over a couple of bodies, putting us off kilter. The front tires no longer had contact with the road and the vehicle tipped. Lightning flashes of fear stabbed through me. I’d imagined I was safe inside the vehicle, figuring I could outrun any zombies, but I hadn’t counted on the sheer numbers of bodies. I pictured the truck overturned, windows smashed in, hands reaching inside to pull us out, teeth sinking into my body at last—inevitable. This had been my constant fear since Vegas.
“Get off! I got it,”” I screamed at Stan who was still stomping my foot and trying to wrench the steering wheel from my grasp. Suddenly, I regained control. We rolled over one or two zombies, pushed aside others and the tires touched pavement. I revved the engine and we shot forward away from the cluster of undead.
But those in the truck bed were still pressed against the glass and slamming their fists on the roof of the cab.
“Get rid of them,” I ordered.
Stan rolled down the side window and leaned out to shoot at our unwelcome hitchers. The bullets tearing into them knocked them off balance but didn’t dislodge them from the truck bed. I accelerated before abruptly hitting the brakes and the four zombies lost their balance and fell on their asses. At last I could see the wild-eyed cow, still trotting to keep up.
The taillights of the lead truck in our caravan shone ahead of us and beyond that the glow of floodlights marking the reservoir. We were almost there. Acid churned in my stomach as we approached our goal. Evading zombies in the pickup was different from the hand-to-hand fighting we were about to face.
“Remember the plan. I’ll cover you while you untie the cow then we’ll lead it to the water on Fes’s cue.” For once I didn’t mind Stan’s bossy attitude. His confidence, even if faked, made me feel better.
I nodded. Brian’s plan, which had sounded good back in town, now seemed terribly flawed. What if the zombies weren’t nearly as interested in cow meat as in human? What if they ignored the bait meant to entice them into the water and continued to come after us instead? But one good thing about taking action—it doesn’t leave you with time to worry or imagine the worst. All a person can do is deal.
The lead truck stopped and Fes and Carl jumped out and started hacking at zombies. Other people came to help. It was easy to make out the living from the dead thanks to strips of reflective tape marking their coats. I’d suggested everyone wear racing stripes down their sleeves and backs so there’d be no accidental shootings and I was pleased to see my idea working.
While the others guarded him, Carl ran to the tailgate to cut free the plunging cow. It took a number of people to control the animal and drive it toward the reservoir. Then I lost sight of what was happening.
I glanced at Stan. He wasn’t in a hurry to get out of the truck any more than I was. It was zombie stew out there, getting thicker by the minute. We were seriously outnumbered and I didn’t know if our protection teams would be enough. A burst of flame off to the left caught my attention and gave me heart. It was one of the flamethrowers in action. Burning zombies staggered ahead of the blast like marshmallows set alight by a campfire.
“Ready?” I asked.
Stan gave a curt nod and we both opened the doors and jumped out. Stan started shooting at the zombies clambering out of the truck bed, while I raced to the tailgate. The cow’s huge red and white body seemed even larger since it was lunging in an attempt to escape. The vet had given the cattle a mild dose of tranquilizer before we started out, enough to calm them without knocking them out. But evidently the threat of death overrode the drug because this cow was frantic.
“Hey, girl. Calm down.” I tried to cow whisper as I moved in close to cut the rope. “Good girl. You’re very brave.”
I sidled nearer. The cow rolled its eyes and baw
led, mucus running from its nostrils and puffs of steam blowing into the frosty air. Heat rolled off her sweaty hide as I patted her. The moment I cut her free, she was going to run. I lifted the coach’s whistle I wore around my neck and blew a couple of sharp blasts for help. The whistle had been Tanesha’s idea and its noise summoned several people. One was Daylon, blood-spattered and nearly as wild-eyed as the cow.
“Where’s Brian?” I’d forced myself not to think of him for the past hour, since worrying about my new boyfriend was a distraction I couldn’t afford. But Daylon’s bloody appearance scared me into thinking the worst.
“Over there.” Daylon jerked a thumb toward the reservoir. “Why are you here?”
“I volunteered.” And kind of wished I hadn’t at that point.
Daylon took over, ordering three people to surround the cow and keep her on course. He grabbed the rope and nodded at me. “Cut it loose.”
I sawed through the rope with my newly sharpened knife. The moment the cow felt the restraint break, she tossed up her head and twisted to the right. Daylon and a couple of others hauled on the rope while the man on the other side prodded her forward. It would’ve been hard enough to drive the panicked animal, but our task was made worse by zombies coming from every direction. They moved as silently as sharks looming out of the darkness of ocean depths.
I glimpsed movement in the corner of my eye and turned to find a teenage boy with an acne-pitted face and a tat on his neck right beside me. I plunged my knife toward his throat but he intercepted the blow, grabbing my wrist and twisting my arm back. Foul breath bathed my face as he lunged toward me, open-mouthed. I struggled to pull away but it was like fighting a stone statue. His grip numbed my hand and I dropped the knife. This is how it ends, I thought. One second of not paying attention and I’m zombie chow.
Suddenly an axe flashed past my face and chopped through the zombie’s arm, cutting it like a stick of kindling. Blood gushed from the stump, showering me. I stumbled away and loosened the lifeless fingers from my wrist. Dropping the severed arm on the ground, I looked to see who my rescuer was.
Brian sliced off the zombie’s head with a couple of whacks. He scooped up my knife and handed it to me, frowning. “You shouldn’t be here. Why didn’t you stay in town like I told you to?”
A prickle of annoyance mingled with my happiness at seeing him alive and at still being alive myself. “Thanks for saving me. But I am here, so deal with it.”
There was no time to argue as we both plunged into action, hacking at more of the swarming dead. The scene in the ring of floodlights was like a Halloween lawn display. The herders fought to get the cows to the edge of the reservoir while the animals bucked and lunged. Their moos were deafening. With flamethrowers the protection teams tried to herd the undead to follow the cows and not set any people alight as they did so. A jet from one of the flamethrowers nearly singed Daylon. Zombies milled around grabbing at anything living they could get their hands on. The situation looked bleak and chaotic.
Fes’s team had gotten their cow to the very edge of the reservoir. Fes sliced across the animal’s throat and the zombies surged toward the smell of fresh blood as the cow tossed its head. Fes released the rope and the animal lunged over the drop off. About ten of the undead followed, their lust for blood carrying them after the cow. Fes was caught up in the group and swept along with them.
I gasped in shock as he disappeared. As if we could stop what had already happened, Brian and I ran over and peered over the edge. One dying cow thrashed in the water and a bunch of zombies churned around it. I saw Fes swimming toward the stone cliff but before he’d gone more than a couple of strokes, one of the undead grabbed him and climbed on him as if he were a life raft. We couldn’t shoot the zombie without hitting Fes. He tried to fight his attacker while keeping afloat, but the thing held him around the neck. They both went under.
We couldn’t watch any longer. Zombies were coming at us thick and fast. I stopped trying to cut them with my knife and started playing a game of duck and dodge. When one lunged at me, I stepped aside at the last minute. Momentum carried the zombie over the cliff. The creatures weren’t bright enough to learn from watching each other. More came at me and fell for my dodge, hurling themselves over the edge. Others I grabbed and pushed.
Tossing a pre-teen girl wearing an I Love Justin night shirt over a cliff was upsetting to say the least. Then I pushed an old man in overalls and a middle-aged woman wearing no clothes at all. It felt amazing and awful to be the one doing the attacking for a change.
Suddenly, Brian grabbed my hand and pulled me with him away from the zombies and toward the parked semi. “You should be safe in the cab.”
I dug in my heels. “No.” It’d be far too easy to do as I was told and sit out the battle in a safe spot. But I was no longer a person who could do that. “I appreciate you caring about me but it’s not your say and I’m as capable as anybody to fight. We’re partners. We do this together. Okay?”
Brian frowned and pulled me in for a fierce hug before releasing me. “Be careful.”
“I will. You too.” I turned and headed toward Daylon who had my red and white cow at the edge of the drop off. That cow was my personal mission and I wanted to be there with her when she got whacked.
* * * * *
Chapter Nineteen
I started to follow Ashleigh, determined to stick by her side, but one of my phones rang. “Yeah?”
“It’s Jim. We’ve got trouble. We’re almost to Reservoir Road and we’re bogged down. There are too many of ‘em. We’re trapped in our vehicles and can’t move and the flamethrowers set the field on fire. Dry as it’s been, I’m afraid it’ll spread fast.”
This was the worst case scenario I’d feared, a fire burning across the land devouring abandoned towns as surely as the undead had. “Call Durbinville and warn the fire brigade. I’ll send more people to help you.”
“Don’t bother. Anderson’s crew is moving in from behind us. Maybe together we can push this herd toward you. Trouble is, too many of the undead are off road. It’s hard to flush them out and keep them headed where we want them to go.”
“Call if you need more help.” I hung up and headed back into the fight. A woman with hair flaming like a candle wick attacked me. I hefted my axe, swung and missed, barely nicking her shoulder. She threw her arms around me in a toxic embrace. The stench of burning hair choked me and flames singed my hands when I grabbed her neck to push her away. Even with her head on fire, her teeth snapped together as she tried to bite.
I punched her in the face, snapping her head back. She was too close to swing my axe so I pulled the knife from my belt and plunged it into her stomach. The creature continued to struggle but at last I freed myself from her grip. I retrieved the knife and threw her body toward the reservoir—too far away to reach the edge, but she was caught in a group flowing that direction and they all went over.
Suddenly a roar came from the reservoir and an orange glow lit the sky overpowering our meager floodlights. The oil slick had caught fire, flames spreading fast. Probably one of the burning undead had fallen in and lit the oil in passing. But it was too soon. The plan had been to pack the water with zombies before starting the fire. Would even the promise of fresh beef on the hoof be enough to entice the undead into the reservoir now?
Daylon was at the edge, holding the rope of another cow. Ashleigh leaned in as if patting the animal’s throat. Her arm moved. The cow tossed its head and then its legs crumpled. As the cow started to fall, Daylon tipped it over the edge. An undead man built like a bull himself charged after the dying animal, his shoulder knocking into Daylon as he ran past. Daylon’s arms went wide, pinwheeling for balance. He lost his footing and slipped over the drop off.
Ashleigh screamed and crouched by the edge, reaching out for him. I pounded across the ground toward her, determined she wouldn’t be swept over too. I knocked zombies out of my way like a football player heading for the end zone. Fes would’ve been proud. W
hen I reached Ashleigh, I grabbed the back of her jacket, ready to drag her away from the precipice. Then I saw that Daylon hadn’t completely fallen. He was clinging to the rocky ledge and fighting to gain a better handhold as he slipped backward.
Ashleigh took hold of one of his wrists. I let go of her to reach for him too just as he slid farther down the rocky wall. His feet scrambled for footing and pebbles showered onto the water below. The flames burning on the water made it look like a pit of hell with zombies thrashing in it like tormented souls.
I fell to my knees and seized hold of Daylon’s leather sleeve, gripping the hard muscle beneath. He grunted and his fingers dug into the dirt as he sought a better handhold.
“Grab onto me,” I said.
He obeyed, transferring his hands from the shifting earth to my arm and Ashleigh’s. He clung to us like a drowning man, hands locked on with a zombie’s strength, and immediately I felt his full weight pulling at me. I braced my legs, knees digging into the ground, and hauled on his heavy body. My arms felt like they were being pulled from the sockets. I glanced at Ashleigh, who was grimacing with effort as we fought to pull him up. We gained a few inches only to lose them again.