by Stevie Kopas
He heard shots and ducked out of instinct, the crack of the rifle filling air. A familiar voice shouted insults at the dead. Andrew stood tall, squinting through the haze of smoke. Catherine swung the rifle wide, bludgeoning heads of the dead as she charged through the crowd. She stopped once more to fire another shot.
“Veronica!” the redhead hollered over the chaos.
“Cat!” Andrew screamed back at her. “She’s safe! She’s gone!”
He shoved his way through the horde, his big fists colliding with as many faces as he could target.
Catherine stared in disbelief as Andrew flung eaters to the side, killing them with his bare hands. She fired another shot and dropped an eater before it could get any closer to her. “Andrew!” She rushed to him, ignoring the pain in her leg.
“We gotta get you out of here.” Andrew scooped her up, swaying, his balance betraying him momentarily. Catherine noticed the bite, noticed how far gone he was and wrapped her arms around him as he pushed through the dead. She wondered how long it would be until they no longer desired her flesh, how long it would take for her to become one of them as well.
They burst through the back doors, tumbling down the cement steps. The two of them yelped as they landed in a heap at the bottom.
“You’re bit.” Andrew pointed at her leg.
“Yeah, so are you.” The two shared a morbid moment before Catherine’s face became serious again. “She’s safe? You’re sure?”
“She’s headed for Clyde. I know she’ll make it. Where’s Michelle?”
Catherine shook her head. “I have no idea.”
“Cat.” Andrew placed a hand on hers. “I need you to know something.”
Catherine narrowed her eyes, lines appearing in her forehead. “What is it?”
“It’s about Desmond. Michelle, she—“
“I know.” Catherine bit her lip, fighting back tears. She’d had the sinking feeling all along about what really happened to her husband, she just couldn’t ever accept it until she’d heard it uttered aloud. A part of her was silently grateful that her husband had been spared all this madness.
A vehicle started toward the back of the lot. Andrew and Catherine helped one another to their feet, leaning on one another for support. They shuffled toward the headlights heading in their direction.
The truck slowed to a stop and Gary flew from the driver’s side. He ran to Catherine, hugging her. “Alright?” He asked, pulling away from her and looking her up and down. He noticed the bandage on her leg. “What happened there?” Gary asked.
Catherine didn’t answer. She clenched her jaw, shaking her head slightly.
Gary’s face dropped. “Say it isn’t so.”
Catherine hugged him again. “I’ll be fine.”
Andrew leaned forward, bracing himself on the truck, breathing heavily. “Man, am I glad to see you.”
“We’ve got to get that gunshot wound taken care of, mate,” Gary said loudly, patting Andrew on the back.
Andrew and Catherine both looked up at him, bewildered.
“Keep your face down,” Gary whispered to the nearly-turned man as the passenger door opened and Michelle popped out.
“Boy, never thought I’d see you two again,” Michelle said with a dark smile, lighting a cigarette. “You guys look a little worse for wear. What the hell’s going on?”
“Andrew’s been shot. Catherine was stabbed,” Gary lied. “We should get going so we can tend to their injuries.” Catherine helped Gary hoist Andrew into the backseat. Michelle stood off to the side, smoking.
Andrew’s breathing slowed, he leaned in toward Gary. “Veronica, she—“
“I know, mate. She didn’t make it out alive.” Gary’s voice wavered.
A puzzled look came over Andrew’s face. “You saw her? After the roof?”
Gary shook his head. “The roof? What…” His voice trailed and he glared at Michelle. “She didn’t die in that building did she?”
“No, she’s on her way to my brother.”
Gary smiled. “You did it.” He patted Andrew on the shoulder and closed the door, turning to Catherine.
A shot rang out and Michelle threw herself to the asphalt, choking on cigarette smoke. Catherine grabbed Gary and pulled him down with her.
“That piece of shit,” Catherine mumbled as she heard Drake screaming into the night.
Gary flopped over onto his side, wheezing. Catherine’s head snapped down and she saw the blood glistening in the moonlight. Tears filled her eyes. “No, Gary, no, no, no.”
Gary grasped her hands in his, he wheezed again when he tried to speak. He coughed hard and more blood seeped from the bullet hole in his chest.
“Ssh, it’s okay. It’s okay,” Catherine soothed him, gripping his hands back. His eyes were wide, they bore into hers. She wiped the tears from her face and placed a hand on his cheek, glad to be there with him in his final moments. “I know what I need to do.”
Gary’s mouth twitched, his eyes fixed on hers. His body lie still.
“Gary?” Michelle called his name from the ground a few feet away.
“He’s gone,” Catherine answered, looking to the woman. Catherine swore she saw a hint of sadness in Michelle’s face, but pushed the thought away. Michelle felt nothing for anyone other than Michelle.
Drake continued to fire into the night. Catherine regretted not killing him when she’d had the chance more than anything else. She grabbed the rifle beside her and jumped to her feet.
“You son of a bitch!” Catherine screamed. She aimed her weapon, but Drake got the shot off before she could.
The bullet tore through her thigh and she screamed, collapsing to the ground.
“How’s it feel, Doc?” Drake yelled to her, pointing at his own thigh as he hobbled toward the truck.
Michelle stayed put, unmoving on the ground. Her eyes flicked up to Drake, whose arms and torso were riddled with bite marks. Eaters, some on fire, began to trickle out the doors of the blaze. Drake was done for.
Michelle scrambled for Catherine’s rifle and raised it at the massive man trudging toward her.
“What’d I tell you about betrayal, bitch?” He spat, training his weapon on her.
She shook her head and pulled the trigger. “When are people gonna learn not to trust me?”
The rifle dug into her shoulder as it fired and she smirked, proud of herself for hitting her mark. The back of Drake’s head exploded in a puff of red mist, and the giant fell to his knees, unmoving. The eaters, just a few feet behind him let loose, gorging themselves on the easy meal before them.
Michelle pulled Catherine to her feet. “Let’s get outta here, Red. Don’t say I never did anything for ya.” She pulled Catherine to the passenger’s side.
“I’m fine, the bullet went straight through.” Catherine pushed Michelle off of her, her voice steel. “I’m driving.”
“Alright, whatever you say. Let’s just get the fuck out of here already.” Michelle put her hands up, rolling her eyes.
Catherine could barely walk, but she managed to make it to the driver’s side door. She spotted Andrew’s overstuffed bag lying beside the truck and snatched it up. She pulled herself in with a moan and slammed the door as eaters closed in on the vehicle.
“If you’re gonna drive, can you please do so?” Michelle asked from the passenger’s seat, lighting up another cigarette.
Catherine could feel the fever already starting to take over. The chills rocked her body though she was drenched in sweat. Her hand fumbled on the shifter. The eaters began to pound on the doors.
“Andrew?” Catherine practically whimpered.
There was no answer at first, but he managed to croak out a response. “I’m still here.”
Catherine smiled, tossing the bag onto Michelle’s lap and slamming her foot down on the accelerator, avoiding the eaters picking Drake’s bones clean.
“Put your seat belt on,” Catherine barked at Michelle.
“Sure thing, mom.” Mic
helle sighed, pulling the belt over and buckling herself in.
The truck rocked as Catherine plowed through the chain link fence. Eaters went flying up and over the vehicle, some crushed under the tires. She gripped the wheel tightly, trying to control the truck and herself. Not wearing her seatbelt was a necessity.
“I just wanna say, ya’ll fuckin’ stink.” Michelle wrinkled her nose at the rotten smell filling the truck cab. Her curiosity got the best of her and she unzipped Andrew’s bag, snooping through it.
Catherine swerved in the road to avoid debris as the truck accelerated down the street.
Michelle turned in her seat slightly, peering at Andrew, her eyes wide with horror.
“You… like… what’s in the bag, bitch?” Andrew wheezed, struggling with his words. A sinister smile spread across his face.
The bag rolled off her lap and to the cab’s floor, Michelle held one of her sketches in her trembling hands.
Catherine peeked into the rearview, locking eyes with Andrew. He gave her a nod.
Michelle looked at her. “Oh fuck.”
Catherine grinned as she slammed her foot down on the brakes and cut the steering wheel hard.
The truck slid sideways, and Catherine locked eyes with Michelle as the truck clipped an abandoned vehicle and flipped.
It rolled three times, glass shattering and metal grinding, before finally coming to a stop, all four tires in the air.
No one in the vehicle moved.
X
Veronica scrambled down the fire escape. As soon as her feet hit the grass, she took off in a sprint, leaving the flaming building behind. She raced toward the beach, bobbing and weaving the eaters swarming the area. Her legs burned as she picked up speed, rounding a corner and cutting through a parking lot. The streets, shrouded in darkness, were hard to navigate. She became lost in her surroundings. Everything looked exactly the same.
She stopped for a moment, clutching her injured hand to her chest and regulated her breathing. She closed her eyes and listened. Through the unrelenting moans of the hundreds of eaters in the area, she could hear the sound she was hoping to hear: the sweet susurrus of waves. She broke into a run again, pushing herself on. Her pain was soon forgotten as her adrenaline took hold and she breathed in deeply through her nose; she could smell the salt on the air now.
She came upon a towering beach home and headed for the gated driveway. It was unlocked and she let herself in. She allowed a moment of rest and leaned against the lone car in the driveway. She knew a moment was even too long to stop and forced herself forward. She crept along the side of the three-story home and cringed when her foot met an empty bottle on the ground.
It clattered off to the side, the noise tearing through her ears. She shivered as she heard a familiar growl up ahead. The fence to her left was far too tall for her to scale. She heard the shuffling of feet and hoped like hell she was trapped in there with only one of them. She narrowed her eyes and focused in the darkness, the wan light of the moon doing little to help.
The eater finally came into view. It jerked toward Veronica, mouth open, grunting and hissing. Veronica raised her gun, struggling to hold it with both hands; with only three fingers on one, she could barely get a grip on the weapon. She waited for the eater to grow closer, its mouth open wide, snarling. Veronica could see the dead thing’s increasing excitement as she was just in arm’s reach.
The gun belched fire, and the eater’s head snapped back from the force. Veronica cried out in pain, her phantom fingers aching. The shot, she was sure, had rung the dinner bell. She stood in silence, barely breathing, awaiting the death shrieks... but they never came. She sighed in relief, bracing herself against the house and taking a deep breath. She looked down at her bandaged hand, the gauze was stained with a deep crimson. She wondered if her sutures had ripped. She looked back up and forced herself back on track.
It was time to keep moving. She gripped the weapon with her good hand and started off.
Tip-toeing around to the backyard, she found it empty and raced for the gate. She was barely through and onto the sand when she noticed the beach was crawling with the dead.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered.
They hadn’t noticed her, yet.
She slinked forward, having never seen this many of them before. To say she was terrified would have been the understatement of the century. Her posture slowly diminished into a crouch and she kept close to the sea oats for cover. She scanned the black horizon and saw no signs of a boat. Her stomach fluttered and she stopped. She peered over her shoulder, back toward the beach house. She hadn’t gone very far, she could still make it back unseen.
Chills ran down her spine as a long wail broke from the horde. Her head snapped in its direction and every eater she could see was looking at her. One by one they opened their mouths and roared into the night, provoking the massive crowd to move toward her.
She sprang from her spot and was running again. The soft sand slowed her down and caused her to stumble a few times but she kept on at top speed. Ahead, just a short distance away, she spotted a rental kiosk. She’d have to break through the horde, but it was her only chance. She ran forward a bit more, searching desperately for an opening. She finally saw a gap in the crowd and made a break for it, dodging death every inch of the way.
There was no safety inside the kiosk, but it was easy to climb. She scampered to the top and collapsed in a heap on its wooden roof, making it by the skin of her teeth. She still felt the burning trails eaters’ claws had grazed into her ankles, and it made her quiver in fear. She panted, her mouth dry. She tried to catch her breath to no avail. The running, mixed with the sheer terror, had not been a welcome combination. She rolled off her back and got up onto her knees. The eater’s screams were deafening, their nails scratching at the sides of the small hut.
Veronica was truly alone.
She cried as she thought of her father and brother. She was glad they’d not had to suffer through this world. She thought of Samson, of how he’d given his own life to save hers, only for her to die alone on the gulf shore. She cried harder when she remembered Ben, dead only since that morning. She hoped with all her heart that Catherine was okay, that Andrew was no longer in pain. She didn’t know what had happened to Gary, but she silently thanked him for all he’d done for her and her group; even if it had all been for nothing, there had still been some good left in this world, and he was proof of that.
Veronica wiped her eyes and stared down at the gun in her hands. She looked up at the stars and wondered if hell was already on earth, maybe heaven really was in the sky. She’d fought hard, she’d made it this far, her father would be proud. She considered Catherine’s words from back at the dealership.
We keep pushing, and we keep going, until we can’t anymore, but we make sure that we damn well go out with a bang.
She raised her head and gazed at the dark water, sparkling in the moonlight. She felt the cold metal of the gun barrel on her temple. The last few months were spent running from an inevitable fate that had finally caught up with her, but she wouldn’t die at the hands of some apocalyptic psychos. She would not be ripped to shreds by the dead.
She would be going out with a bang.
She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed in deep as she put her finger on the trigger.
All Good Things Come To Those Who Wait
The sky was filled with a light so bright that she could see it through her eyelids. Veronica’s eyes popped open, her heart pounding. She gasped, pulling the gun away from her head. Her chest heaved, she’d been mere seconds away from ending her own life.
The flare lit up the night and there, in the distance, was The Dockside. The dead faces surrounding her looked to the sky, captivated by the illumination.
This was her last chance.
Veronica threw herself from the kiosk roof, landing in a roll on the sand. She pumped her arms and threw the gun off to the side. She’d need both hands to swim. Her running grabbed the att
ention of the eaters again and they chased her to the shoreline.
She screamed Clyde’s name into the night.
She kicked off her shoes and dove into the freezing water. She screamed again, the salt water burning her wound, but she kicked forward, keeping herself as close to the surface as possible, knowing the bloated dead lurked at the bottom. She hoped the current would help pull her out to sea.
She could barely feel her limbs, her breath getting harder to catch as the frigid water swirled around her, but she kept kicking. The boat’s lights flickered to life and she heard Clyde’s voice screaming for her. She choked as water filled her mouth and she struggled to stay afloat. The eaters were down there, waiting for her. Her eyes burned, but she was almost there. Just a few more feet.
Clyde threw the ladder down with a splash, urging her on. Veronica stretched her arms out with her last bit of strength but went under. Her body had simply given up.
She felt hands around her wrists, then her body broke the surface of the water and she was pulled onto the boat. She coughed and gagged, spitting water onto the deck. She collapsed as Clyde wrapped her in a blanket, dragging her into the cabin. He held her tightly and she sobbed into his chest, shivering. He wept with her in the dark.
***
Veronica woke the next morning, the light of dawn peeking through the windows, warming the small cabin. She pulled the blanket around her tightly and checked her hand. Clyde had redressed the wound. Looking around the silent cabin, she spotted her clothes. She got up and put a hand on them, finding them still damp. She peered through the window and spotted Clyde, he stood on the deck solemn faced, smoking a cigarette.
She fashioned the blanket into a dress and crept out of the cabin.