by Megan Berry
“Silas!” I scream, ready to turn my Glock towards the driver’s seat if he doesn’t get going. The truck finally starts moving, but he drives so slow that we are only keeping a couple feet ahead of the pack. I go and stand at the front of the box so I can lean against the cab for support. I take the time to aim more carefully and take down a couple more zombies. I don’t want to use up all my bullets, just in case I need them.
Like the damn thing could read my mind and wanted to prove me wrong, a zombie comes snarling and snapping from the left. I act on instinct, raising my pistol to his ragged, ugly face and keep squeezing the trigger.
“Come and get me!” I scream, letting my rage at the situation come unleashed for a minute. Like why is it so hard for me to reach the cabin and find out if my best friend is still alive?
I dry fire and have to stop my carrying on so I can reload. The zombie I shot is a pile of gory pulp on the sidewalk. I look up and my breath freezes in my lungs. Silas and I are zombie pied pipers; the street behind us is lined with the dead. They moan and groan, following our slow moving parade like it’s their only mission in life. Silas turns a corner and stops abruptly, making me pitch wildly in the box before falling flat on my face.
“Hold on!” he yells through the open window, a little too late since I’m already on my face! I feel him slam the truck into reverse and open my mouth to scream at him not to go backwards. That’s where the biters are, but it’s too late.
I feel the wet slap of bodies bouncing off the tail gate. “Silas!” I scream at him, but he doesn’t answer. I dare a peek over the top of the box and then squeeze my eyes shut again. I don’t want to see this.
“Sorry, J, when I took that corner there was another big group of those bastards up ahead, I didn’t want to risk getting surrounded,” Silas yells out the window as he cranks the wheel like a mad man.
The truck slams into drive, and Silas pins it. I finally risk opening my eyes and come face to face with a zombie. He’s managed to hook his arms over the tailgate, and it doesn’t look like he’s into letting go of his meal on wheels. I stand up and immediately lurch forward when Silas hits the gas. I stumble right up to the zombie, cursing Silas, and have to use my hands to brace against the zombie’s shoulders to keep from falling off the end of the truck. The zombie gives a hopeful moan and let’s go of the tailgate to try and grab at me.
I manage to step back quickly, using the momentum from pushing off of his shoulder to avoid his reaching grasp, and he falls backwards onto the ground.
Thank God these things are so stupid, or the human race wouldn’t stand a chance.
I raise the gun and think about shooting Silas, but decide against it, at least for now, since he’s the one driving the truck. I fire into the crowd instead, but I don’t take down nearly as many as I’d like. I’m still a novice at shooting, and the swaying of the truck as we drive doesn’t improve my aim any.
Sweat trickles down my shirt collar—it feels like we’ve been at this all day—so it’s extra disheartening when I look up and see that we’ve managed to draw the zombies only one short block.
“This is taking all day,” I complain to Silas as I pause my shooting, my arms are getting tired and my shoulders are aching. Silas fires a shot out the driver’s side window and, for a minute, I think he didn’t hear me.
“I know what you mean!” he yells back at last, and I frown at him. I doubt very much that he knows how it feels to be back here playing the carrot on a string for a bunch of zombies.
“How much farther?” I ask, being careful to keep the whine from my voice. I want to be a whiner, but it won’t help the situation, and Silas is the type to judge me, not give sympathy.
Silas is silent for a moment while he thinks about it. “I’d say another two blocks or so, it will give the stragglers at the back a chance to catch up.” He stops for a minute to shoot at an especially ugly zombie that is staggering out from between two houses. “When I say get in, don’t waste any time, get through the window, then we’ll gun it back to the house and hope Ryan is smart enough to have gotten the hell out of dodge when the zombies left.”
My heart pounds in my chest, and even though I’m not especially religious, I send up a quick prayer.
We roll slowly through the street, just fast enough to stay ahead of the crowd. Whenever the zombies start losing interest or begin to branch off, Silas slams on the brakes and I yell like a crazy person and wave my arms to draw their attention back our way.
I turn my back on my stinky fan club, thankful the wind is blowing in my favor, and take a look over the top of the cab to see what we’re dealing with ahead. There are a few zombies stumbling towards us from that direction, but the road is mostly clear. I stare at the intersection we are closing in on and grin. I’m pretty sure this is the block that Silas will turn the truck around.
I see movement out of my peripheral vision and spin, gun ready. I’ve gotten used to the dead heads behind us, but the zombies that stagger up to the sides of the truck from somewhere else still terrify me. One scratch and I’d be joining them in all their undead bliss.
My finger twitches on the trigger as I lock onto the moving shape and squeeze.
I let out a hoarse cry and jerk my hand to throw off the bullet’s trajectory—too late—I realize belatedly that the figure standing on the front porch just walked out of the house with a backpack strapped to his back.
Ryan looks just as shocked as I feel. He dives off the porch when the bullet blasts into the concrete right beside his head.
“Silas, stop the truck!” I scream, feeling weak at the knees with relief that I didn’t just kill the guy I’m starting to have feelings for. Silas slams on the brakes, and I have to hold onto the fuel tank to keep from getting thrown out. “Run!” I scream at Ryan as he gets to his feet and catches his first glimpse at the macabre crowd behind us.
My breath catches, and it’s like everything slows down all of a sudden. Ryan starts running just as the first wave of zombies on the road have almost reached him. We accidentally lured these things right to Ryan! I feel like an idiot, even though there is no way we could have known. Silas puts the truck in park and gets out.
Shots start to ring out as Silas lays down some heavy cover fire and zombies only a couple feet behind Ryan start to fall. My hands tremble, but I don’t dare fire my gun this close to Ryan. It’s bad enough that I already shot at him once.
“Keep them off my back, Blondie,” Silas yells at me, and I struggle to peel my attention off Ryan. I look out over the cab of the truck and see a couple of the stragglers closing in on Silas. I kneel on the fuel tank and lean over the cab of the truck, using the roof as an arm rest as I line up the closest threat and squeeze the trigger. My slug hits him in the shoulder and he stumbles back. I cuss under my breath, what is up with all the accidental shoulder shots? I line him up again, and thankfully, this time I manage to put him down for good.
I line up the next one, remembering to breath, and squeeze the trigger. I hit him right in the neck, most likely his spinal cord because his neck suddenly droops down to rest on his shoulder. I wince as I watch him start to walk in circles, unable to get his bearings.
I feel a thump as something lands in the back of the truck with me. I spin, gun up just in case it’s a zombie. Ryan grabs the barrel of the gun, and twists it quickly away from his chest.
“You almost shot me!” he exclaims, wrapping me in a great big bear hug as the zombies that were hot on his trail bump up against the tail gate. I hear Silas’ door slam, and I pull away from Ryan and throw myself down on my butt.
“Hold on,” I warn Ryan just as Silas throws the truck in gear and pins it. Ryan stumbles backwards, but I grab his shirt and pull him with all my strength, towards me. He lands on top of me, making the air vacate my lungs—and not in a romantic way.
“Sorry,” he mumbles in my ear as he rolls off me and sits up. “That guy’s a maniac,” he says, rubbing his elbow where he hit it on the hard metal of the truc
k box.
“You have no idea,” I say and let out a giggle. Nothing about this crazy situation is funny, but I’m so relieved that Ryan is back.
Silas goes pedal to the metal and puts some distance between us and the zombies before slamming to a stop, making both Ryan and I protest loudly from the back.
“Get in here!” Silas yells, and I stare at the window for a second before ignoring it and jumping to the ground. Ryan follows me and I throw myself into the backseat, making sure to keep my eyes from examining the upholstery too closely.
Ryan isn’t half as lucky and openly stares at it. “What in the hell happened back here?” he asks before continuing without giving us a chance to answer. “How did you get the truck back anyway?”
“Found it,” Silas grunts from the front seat, shrugging.
Ryan sends him an annoyed glance and then looks at me for his answers. I respond by punching him as hard as I can, right in the arm.
“Ow!” Ryan yells, holding his arm. I catch Silas grinning in the rear-view mirror and send him a warning look. “What was that for?” Ryan makes the mistake of asking.
“Are you serious?” I yell at him, and then after thinking about it, I punch him again.
“Okay, that actually hurt,” Ryan complains, and I will admit that it feels good to cause him a bit of pain after everything he put us through.
“I can’t believe you left without me!” I yell, and Ryan at least has the good grace to look sheepish. I catch him throwing an accusatory look at Silas, and shake my head.
“Don’t you dare blame him. You shouldn’t have lied to me in the first place. How would you feel if I did the same thing to you?” I ask and watch his face fall. He probably didn’t think of it like that. I know for a fact that if I ever pulled a stunt like he did, he’d be royally pissed.
“I’m sorry,” Ryan says, and I can tell by his face that he really means it, but I’m not ready to let him off the hook so easily.
“Do you even know what I went through?” I demand, and Ryan nods.
“Worry,” Ryan replies. He’s so sure, he has the right answer, so I shake my head. I was worried, but I’m going to completely terrorize him before I admit it.
“Actually… the mall was overrun by zombies while you were gone. Silas and I had to fight them off. Ryder turned into a zombie and tried to eat me up on the roof. I got zombie guts in my ear, Ryan, IN MY EAR!” I’m shouting by the time I reach the part about my ear.
Ryan opens his mouth “I’m so sor—,” he starts to speak, but I shake my head and hold up my finger.
“Oh, I am not done.” I say ominously, and I watch in satisfaction as he actually breaks out in a sweat. “I go off on a rescue mission with this…” I point at Silas for emphasis, “lunatic! I end up riding in the back of a truck because I’m the zombie bait, and we have a zombie parade down Main Street trying to lure the zombies away from a house that you’re not even in! You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you for real!” I pause to take a deep breath, and then the thought hits me. If Ryan is here with us, who’s in the house that we lured the zombies away from.
I glance up at Silas and see that he’s suddenly thinking the same thing. He cranks the wheel and speeds back towards the house.
Ryan tries to hold my hand, but I pull it out of his grasp.
“To answer your question about the truck,” Silas says from the front seat, uncharacteristically chatty because Ryan’s the one in the dog house. “We came across it parked down one of these streets. That Jamie guy turned and he ate the chick that dried our clothes, it happened back there, right where you’re sitting.”
I see Ryan look down at the chunks, and he pales.
“Silas,” I warn, causing him to give me an innocent look.
The house appears ahead of us, thankfully now zombie free. I look up and down the street, hoping to see someone fleeing the scene, but there’s no one. Silas parks the truck in the driveway and jumps out. I follow him, and Ryan follows me.
We go up to the front door and listen. I can hear a faint noise from inside, but it’s hard to tell what it is.
Silas turns the handle and the door swings open with an ominous creak. Once the door is open, we hear the sobbing.
“Hello,” Silas calls once we’ve shut the door behind us. The sobbing is cut off abruptly like someone is trying to be quiet, but faint, muffled sobs still escape. “We aren’t here to hurt you,” Silas says as he stands in the middle of the entry way listening. The next time we hear the sob, we all stare off to our left, having pinpointed where it came from.
Silas motions to a closed door, and we all creep forward stealthily. Silas throws the door open so hard that it bangs off the wall, and then he charges in with his gun waving around. I think he’s crazy, but I still go in without hesitation to back him up. Ryan and I bump into his back when he stops abruptly.
I peek around Silas’ back and see an older woman, maybe fifty, rocking another woman who looks enough like her that I know right away it’s her daughter. The younger woman has blood ringed around her lips and dribbling down her chin, and my stomach drops to my toes. They are sitting next to a toilet filled with bloody vomit, she must have gotten bitten or scratched.
“Help us?” The older woman begs, and my heart goes out to her. Silas surprises me by stepping forward and kneeling down next to the two women. His hand sweeps across the sick woman’s forehead, checking her temperature.
“Was she bitten?” he asks quietly, and the older woman nods, fat tears splashing down her cheeks.
“Her hand,” she manages to get out, and Silas gently picks up the woman’s hand, making her moan in pain. Her hand is pale and ghastly looking, her fingers are swollen to double their normal size, and the skin around the infection is already starting to flake off.
“What’s her name?” Silas asks quietly, setting her hand back down.
“Norma,” the woman snuffles, relaxing a little beneath Silas’ calm attention. “I’m Margery,” she says, even though Silas didn’t ask.
“I’m Silas, Margery. Do you know what happens when people get bitten?” he asks, and Margery shakes her head, even though I suspect she does—she just doesn’t want to believe it.
“I’m so sorry. I know this is hard to hear, but there is nothing we can do for her,” Silas says, grabbing Margery’s hand instead. Margery pulls it from his grasp and sobs uncontrollably, clutching her daughter to her chest.
After a moment, she seems to compose herself. She reaches down and strokes Norma’s hair and kisses her on the forehead. “I love you sweet girl, you rest now. It won’t be long,” she murmurs and then gently sets her daughter’s head down on a rolled up jacket and stands up.
“I can’t bear for her to turn into one of those things” she says to Silas, and he nods.
“I’ll take care of her for you,” he promises solemnly, and Margery actually smiles a little.
“Thank you, you’re a good boy,” she says, patting him on the shoulder as she quickly walks out of the bathroom and shuts the door behind her.
“Silas,” I say, coming up beside him. “You don’t have to do this alone,” I tell him, but he shrugs me off.
“It’s okay,” he says softly as he pulls his gun out and gently presses it to her temple. Norma looks up at him for a second and nods, like she is giving her permission, and then she closes her eyes.
I turn around and press my face into Ryan’s chest. One second later, the gunshot rings out. It’s deafening in the tiny bathroom.
Ryan wraps his arms around me, and I’m not mad at him anymore. It seems so silly to fight when any moment could be our last.
A gun shot from outside the door interrupts our shared grief, and we all freeze. Silas starts running first, breaking our frozen tableau, and we follow him out, fearing the worst.
I grind to a halt when I see Margery sprawled out on the floor, a rapidly growing puddle of red forming beneath her head. I look away from the gaping hole in her temple, stuffing my fist in my mouth to keep
my sobs from escaping.
I didn’t know these people, just the brief ten minutes we intruded on their tragedy but they impacted my emotions, making me feel a huge wave of grief at the injustice of their death.
Silas walks over and grabs Margery underneath her arms, and Ryan joins him in lifting her legs. They lay Norma and Margery together in the bathroom, and I can’t control my tears.
“We need to get out of here,” Silas says, and a slab of granite would have more expression than his face right now. “They’ll have heard the gun shots.”
I don’t need to be told twice, or ask who they are.
We rush to the door and peek out, and my heart dips when I see five zombies prowling around the truck.
“Great,” I mutter, already bone-tired from running for my life at every turn.
“No problem,” Silas says as he steps out the front door, looking like he’s spoiling for a fight.
I sigh, pulling my gun from my holster, and force my tired legs to follow him out. I don’t want him getting hurt—or worse—today has been already been hard enough.
Silas savagely takes care of the zombies before Ryan and I get much of a chance to help. He shoots the first three with his rapid, deadly aim, and then he pulls his new hatchet from his belt and attacks the zombies with brute force.
I can tell he’s pissed, and he’s taking it out on the only things we can blame all this crap on—the zombies.
He chops and hacks for a solid five minutes before finally coming back to himself.
He looks up at Ryan and I, who are frozen, watching him in horror.
“Let’s go,” he says, tossing his axe into the box of the truck rather than taking the time right now to clean it. I wince thinking about its bloody tip rubbing against my suitcase, but after watching Silas brutally slay five zombies, I’m not going to be the one that brings it up.
Ryan casually slides into the driver’s seat, and I give him a grateful smile. I’m not sure if Silas should be driving right now.
“Where to boss?” Ryan asks, trying to lighten the mood a bit, but Silas doesn’t even crack a smile.