Her chest felt tight. She didn’t know why she felt this way - Father Speer had never hurt her when they were like this. He struck out with his words at times, but “purification ritual” aside, he had never harmed her, had never touched her in anger. All she was doing was holding his hand while he stroked himself, faster now, his fingers flexing tighter around his hard member. She didn’t understand where that sense of dread was coming from, why her ears rang and why she felt so distant from herself, why she felt like she was watching everything happen from high above.
A great shudder ran through the minister as he climaxed. He spilled his seed over her hand, hot and thick, and she felt as if she’d been burned. She felt stained. It would be a long while before her hand felt clean again.
He said nothing more. With a grunt and a regretful sigh, he rose and returned upstairs. Slowly, the ringing subsided. She shivered. Though he’d barely touched her at all, she felt ill. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be touched. Heck, she wanted more. Her body craved it even then, even through her feelings of dread and sense of wrongness. It was just that hint of an unspoken threat. He might not have even been consciously aware of it himself, not within his madness, with that dark cloud that came over him at times. But sometimes, she worried - he’d saved her life. Did that mean that he owned it?
Her thoughts were interrupted by loud knocking on the front door.
She reacted just as she’d been trained to react. The other girls in the corners of the room moved in an identical fashion. She pulled on her heavy black boots. She walked briskly to the chest at the foot of her mattress. There, she pulled out her holster, her pistol and her two revolvers, and her emergency pack. Holster went on, one gun to either side, last gun tucked into the back of her pants, backpack on and buckled across her chest. She heard the other girls’ buckles as well. They’d gotten that far in just moments - Father Speer was descending the stairs just as they were moving out of the room to the kitchen, to the pantry. She knotted her dark hair on top of her head as she stepped inside.
Half the pantry contained cans of food and dried goods. The other contained the larger guns. Lia passed them out one by one. Two each. They’d pass one to Father Speer if he called for one, but he would be well-armed himself beneath his jacket.
They spread out as they heard him open the door; the other two girls took up their positions in the rear of the house. Lia herself circled around to the front where she could see the minister and the open doorway. Making no effort to stay out of sight, she leaned one shotgun against her leg and raised and aimed the other as they continued the minister conversation he had started with the visitor.
“We’ll deal with the corpses,” Father Speer said, “Don’t make us deal with you.”
The man at the door was bearded, tall, and wore a leather jacket. He didn’t look like some starving drifter. She worried for the first time in a long while that they might be in real danger.
“You don’t understand,” the man said. “Have you seen the herds out there? You can shoot all you like and they’ll just keep coming. They’re going to swarm this entire farm and you with it if you don’t get out.” He gestured at Lia. “They’ll eat your daughter alive, do you want that?”
Wrong thing to say. “Girls!” Father Speer barked. Lia cocked her gun. The heavy metallic sound filled the air as six other girls did the same. If there was a more fearsome sound on the planet she didn’t know it. The man’s eyes went wide and his knees nearly buckled.
“I got it,” he said, voice shaking, showing his palms, “I’m leaving. But I’m telling you-” He stepped backwards onto the porch, his boots heavy on the wooden structure. He raised his voice. “There’s a herd of corpses coming right this way. Hundreds of them. Get out while you can!”
The minister watched him leave. Lia heard the roar of an engine while he stood there in the doorway and was ashamed that the sound hadn’t woken her when the stranger had approached. She didn’t lower her gun. “Father? Should we be worried?”
He shook his head and finally stepped back inside. “Fill your pockets, girls. He’s a stranger and a sinner, but we should be prepared in case he spoke the truth.”
“Hundreds, though?” one of the girls squeaked from the top of the stairs.
“He’s exaggerating,” Father Speer said, though he didn’t sound so sure. “We’ll be okay. But get out the extra ammo and fill your pockets. Now.”
That set them running. He never trusted outsiders. In fact, Lia was surprised he hadn’t ordered them to shoot the man in the back. He must have suspected something was coming. Maybe that’s why he came home early. Maybe he saw the dead on their way.
Hundreds, though? They didn’t travel in packs. Not as far as any of them knew. Still, Lia filled her pockets with as much extra ammo as she could. Her backpack held more. She checked her guns, dumped and refilled her canteens, tied and retied her boots. She was ready to evacuate if she had to. If that’s even a possibility. Hundreds.
Mikey burst through the front door as soon as the sound of the stranger’s engine had faded into the distance. His post was on the roof - as soon as they’d heard the knock, as soon as the girls had burst into action, his job was to arm himself similarly and head up through the attic to assess the situation from above.
His face was ashen. “Corpses,” he said. He seemed unsteady. Father Speer clapped a hand on his shoulder.
“Speak plainly, son,” he said.
“Too many.” He looked around into the curious and concerned faces of the girls before returning to his father’s. “Too many. We have to evacuate.”
The minister shook his head. “And the van is still out of commission.” He straightened and looked around. Four girls crowded the top of the steps. Lia stood with the other three at the bottom, waiting for his instructions. They’d drilled for this many times. Her heart thudded in her ears but she was ready. They all were.
“Team up. We’re evacuating on foot. Emily, with me. Mikey will take her place with Danielle. Where are they coming from?”
Mikey swallowed. “The south and the west.” His eyes darted about. “They’re gonna surround us, they’re gonna-”
Father Speer slapped him. The crack echoed through the house. Everyone was silent as Mikey rubbed his stinging cheek. Everyone waited, holding their breaths. “Hold it together, Mikey. We have to move.”
Mikey nodded slowly. “No time for fear.”
“Girls, you know the drill. We’ve practiced this. We’re heading north.” One of the girls from upstairs passed down the minister’s own backpack. He strapped it on as he spoke. “Should we be divided, our first convergence point is the silo on the Grayson farm.” He stepped out onto the front porch and they all followed. It was dark, but Lia had her flashlight out already, one shotgun held with her other hand, balanced against her shoulder. Her second shotgun was jammed between her back and her backpack - uncomfortable and awkward, she would shed it if and when she had to. All the girls were similarly armed - bigger guns, smaller guns, knives all about their persons. She had only one within easy reach herself, tucked inside her boot. Her evacuation partner - Simone - stood tight at her side, their arms touching. Her flashlight would come out only when Lia’s battery died. “Second point is the Holy Martyr church. Third is the Applewood Stables.” They followed him down the path from the house to the road. Are we actually fleeing this place? Is this real? “Fourth is the Moonsfield train station. Fifth…” he paused. They all halted behind him. “I don’t expect we’ll need to run so far as to need the fifth checkpoint, but as you all know, it’s the last.”
“Bowman’s Used Car Emporium,” they recited as one.
“Stay together and none of that will be necessary.” They turned onto the road and walked briskly in silence through the dark. Lia switched her flashlight back off for the moment - the night was clear and the moon lit the way well enough. She’d need it when they reached the darker roads through the woods.
At first she thought her imagination
was getting the better of her. She thought she could hear movement at their backs as they moved - just a soft breath on the air. Like cloth against cloth, like slippers on soft dirt. Simone stood tighter at her side and breathed big gulps of air. Then they heard the branches snapping. Heavy thuds. The smell of the air changed from the fresh and clean scents of the woods to rot and decay.
“Faster, girls,” Father Speer said, alarm in his voice. They sped up as one. “Remember all I’ve taught you,” he said, “Stay calm and stay focused and we’ll survive this night together.”
He meant it when he said it. He truly believed it. But that was before they heard the engines.
The road lit up with bright headlights, rushing closer from ahead. Father Speer’s steps faltered. Men ahead, the dead behind. We’re trapped. Was this whole thing a trap? It sounded insane, but was it? A house full of virginal girls at the end of the world - perhaps it was more insane that they’d existed in relative peace for as long as they had.
“Into the woods,” Father Speer said, leading the way. A dangerous move. They couldn’t shoot around trees. But they followed - they moved as fast as they could. Lia switched on her flashlight and led Simone between trees and beneath branches and over fallen trunks. She kept her eyes on the ground - Simone kept her eyes on their surroundings. Lia couldn’t hear much over their footsteps and their breathing, but the engines were definitely getting closer to where they’d left the road.
Unfortunately, they could hardly hear the dead. Between the noise and the dark, the corpses were nearly on top of them before they realized they weren’t alone. The figures shambled into the dancing lights of their flashlights. In life they had been all types of men, women, and children - all colors, all professions, all walks of life. The disease that only manifested upon their deaths did not discriminate. Tattered suits, torn party dresses, blood-stained jeans - all they had in common was their blackened, rotting, un-seeing eyes. Most had died of violence and bore hideous and grotesque wounds - parts eaten away by the dead before the victims joined the dead themselves, became flesh-hungry lurching corpses themselves. They filled the air with their putrid smell and made no sounds at all.
“Two o’clock,” Simone stated clearly. Lia lifted her shotgun, aimed and fired in one smooth motion. Simone’s gun went off behind her, aiming in another direction, shooting down another corpse.
The woods exploded with gunfire. Is this the herd? She didn’t have time to wonder. The dead were on them, amongst them. She and Simone both took another shot to clear a path in front of them and ran side by side, Lia’s flashlight illuminating the way.
“Wait, we can’t leave them!” Simone said, slowing.
“Yes. We’re going to the silo. We can’t even see them, Simone.” Lia kept moving. It was follow or be left behind alone, so Simone followed closely, her breathing ragged. “Stay calm,” Lia said. They couldn’t outright run - the ground was too treacherous, they weren’t on a trodden path - but they moved as quickly as they dared. She knew as long as they were heading north they’d come to another wider road. Then they could run most of the way to the silo. We just need to get out of these woods alive. She could hear corpses stumbling around them and turning to give chase, but they didn’t slow. There were too many to stop and try to shoot, they’d be overwhelmed.
They burst from the woods and onto the asphalt right on the heels of another pair of girls that they didn’t even see until they were clear of the trees.
“Lia! Simone, thank God!” Yvonne was the oldest of the girls, Charla the youngest. Lia breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of them but didn’t let it slow her.
“Keep moving,” she said, leading them forward. She switched off her flashlight and let the moon show her the way.
“Wait, where are the others? Where’s the Father, where’s-”
“Keep moving,” Lia repeated. She felt them follow at her back. She imagined she dragged them in her current. Steady. Keep them together. They had two miles of dark road to traverse before they would turn off and cross a field to the silo. “It might be a while before we see anyone,” she told the group, “But don’t worry. They’ll catch up. They could have come out further along the road or further behind. Okay?” She spared them a glance over her shoulder. “Everyone okay?” She could hear engines again but couldn’t tell what direction they were in. Maybe it was all directions. But they were a secondary problem.
“Yes,” they whispered, one after the other. But she wasn’t listening even then. The quieter sound was returning - the soft footfalls, the snapping branches. Corpses burst from the trees in front of them. Where are they coming from?! How are there so many? She dropped her empty shotgun and dropped her flashlight as she pulled the pistol from the back of her pants, all in one smooth motion. She heard the other girls doing the same.
She fired. They fired. The shots were deafening in her ears, leaving them ringing. Four corpses dropped. Dozens more lurched and stumbled and shambled towards them. “Steady, girls,” Lia said, and fired again. Another dropped. Too many. Too many! She was focused; the thoughts were distant. She fired again.
The girls broke. They took off running in the opposite direction, the wrong way, towards another group of the dead appearing from the trees. They screamed in unison, all three. No, no, no! Lia took a step back, fired again, a step back, fired again. No good. She tucked the gun back behind her pants as she took off running. There were corpses in the direction the girls had run, but no sign of them. Still, it was a sparser group and she was able to dodge her way through.
Only to find more swarming the road, pouring from the woods.
Her focus wavered.
Bright lights blinded her eyes and engines roared as something - someone- raced around a corner even further back down the road and barreled straight through the swarm, straight for her.
The living or the dead? Both were a danger. The dead would kill her for sure. The living were a gamble. “Help!” she screamed, waving her arms. “Here, please!”
One headlight rushed at her - a motorcycle skid to a halt, turning as it did, its driver gesturing wildly for her to get on behind him. He kicked a corpse away with a heavy boot. She scrambled. The dead were too close, they were grabbing her, tearing at her clothes, trying to grab her backpack. With a hand on her second shotgun to keep it from dropping, she grabbed the man’s arm with the other and swung her leg over the back of his seat. She got her arms around him just in time as he revved the engine and sped back in the direction he’d come from.
They flew. They raced away from the swarm - the herd, as the man at their door had said. She clung to the stranger and fought back tears as her focus and calm shattered. They were gone. Gone! She’d left them. She’d let those girls break and run too soon, she hadn’t kept them together. They could be dead. And Father Speer - what had happened to him? She’d gotten separated from him so quickly. And Emily. And Danielle. And Simone, and Sunny, Yvonne, Charla. Mikey. Gone. She was sobbing, taking in great gulps of air and shaking violently against the stranger’s back.
The bike pulled to a stop. They were still on the road but with no corpses immediately in sight. The driver helped her down before dismounting himself. She put her hands on her knees as she struggled to catch her breath but still couldn’t stop the sobs that wracked her.
“Shit,” she heard the stranger curse. He grabbed both of her shoulders. She nearly fell as she wrenched away. “Okay, sweetheart, I ain’t gonna touch you. Look.” He showed her his palms. “Ain’t doing anything. You’ve gotta breath, girly.”
“I- I’m-” She choked. “I can’t-”
“Are you injured? Look at me.” He crouched in front of her and barked, “Look at me!”
His tone jolted her back to the present. She looked up. His face was rough, gritty, but his green eyes were gentle and creased with concern. “Slow breaths. With me. Inhale.” She inhaled slowly as he did. “Exhale.” She followed his lead. Her heart thudded in her chest and panic threatened to take over again, but
it was helping. “Again,” he said, and she imitated him once more. “Okay? Can you talk?”
She nodded. Her head jerked up as she heard another engine approaching.
“A friend,” the stranger explained. “Now answer me - are you injured?”
“No.”
“Okay. That’s good.”
“My friends,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. “I was with a group. Six other girls, a young man and an older man.” She swallowed. “Did you see them?”
“I saw three girls take off into a field,” he said, “I couldn’t drive after them. And then I saw you. That was all.”
“Oh, God,” she said, covering her mouth. The second motorcycle was getting closer. If they’ve died, at least I won’t be far behind them.
“Hey, sit down. Maybe Dray here will have more to report.” The bike pulled to a stop, and a tall, bald man with the scariest facial tattoos she’d ever seen climbed off. She turned her face away.
“What the hell happened?” the man called Dray asked.
“The living happened,” her driver said. “She says there’s six more girls and two guys out there.”
Dray cursed. “No wonder the herd started gathering back together, they must have smelled them.” He sighed. “I thought I saw some girls. Just two, though. I think Chief picked them up.”
Lia sat up. “Are you sure? Are they okay?”
“I’m not sure of much of anything, darlin’, I’m sorry,” Dray said. He spoke in a growl, “If there’s anyone alive out there, we’ll find them. I heard plenty of gunshots, too. I thought it sounded like too many to just be us.”
My guns. He hasn’t tried to disarm me. She wisely kept her mouth shut.
“Okay,” the stranger said. “We still stick to the plan. I’ve got to get these damn jobs done and get back to the compound. You guys keep breaking up that herd, but the living are the priority. If you find anyone, you bring them home.”
Dark Paths: Apocalypse Riders Page 2