by Evans, Mike
Shaun absolutely did not want to freak the fuck out. He felt very much like he deserved to because of the current circumstances and the only thing that he could think of was having to point a pistol at his own father's head and pulling the trigger, forever changing what and who he would be going forward.
Shaun was screaming and kicking as hard as he could, trying to get the hand that seemed to be a part of him now off of his ankle. He was using his free foot going after the wrist like no other. He could feel his chest tightening until he thought his heart would pound so hard that it might just explode from his chest.
Clary wiped the residue from his good eye, blinking and trying to let the tears do what they needed to. Clary asked, “Shaun, did it bite you, did it bite you, goddamn it?”
Shaun tried to speak but when he opened his mouth only screams came out. The usual calm and collected Shaun that he knew did not seem to be with him in the truck right now. Greg scrambled forward, not waiting for his response and pried off the fingers one by one breaking the brittle bones with each finger and it did little to hurt his heart. Greg was still trying to get his eyesight back, and as things became clearer, he noticed that he had nothing on his leg with the exception of a matching handprint from what he had just removed.
Greg explained, “Shaun, you're okay, buddy. Just take it easy and relax. It didn't get you; you're not going to be one of the Turned.”
Shaun wiped furiously at his eyes, getting his vision back just a bit quicker than the others, since he had already begun to make tears. Shaun inspected his leg and checked Greg to make sure that he was not pointing a gun at his face. They had had to put people out of their misery before, and unfortunately it didn't matter how much someone cared for another, it was still something you were required and expected to do if it came down to it, because if you didn’t, you would become their next target.
Greg already knew what Shaun was looking at and said, “There's no gun pointing in your direction.”
The group was so focused on getting their vision back that they miraculously had forgotten that less than a few seconds ago there had been a violently angry horde of the Turned coming to kill. Earl, the last one anyone would think would be the first one to think of something first said, “Is it just me? Or am I the only one of us that seems to remember we just had a whole mess of goddamn zombies trying to eat our asses?”
Scott saw the hand, and like any of them, should have realized if Shaun still had his leg intact that he had been successful with his zombie hypothesis. Scott tried to remain calm, but the overwhelming excitement that he was feeling was undeniable. It did not take Clary much longer than Scott to have those same emotions racing like a drug throughout his body. Clary whispered, barely making an audible tone. He said, “Did it fucking work? The Turned are scared of nothing. Did it truly work?
Scott wiped a few more times at his eyes before finally taking a good look at the zombie, whose facial expression seemed stuck in a rage that was missing the violence in its eyes. Scott wasn't going to be too cocky, even though he figured he was safe, given the fact Greg had just broken all of its fingers until he had been able to remove the hand. Scott poked it in the eyeball, figuring if that didn't infuriate it there probably wasn't much else that would.
Scott said, “I think it works. I think we need to go assess the situation here and see what's going on outside. The longer we stay in here, the better chance we're going to have of more of those things coming and finding us.”
Clary, who should have been ecstatic, was cursing, saying, “God dammit, the radio is out.”
Greg, who didn't think the possibility of a life without the dead would ever be possible, yelled, “Clary, for the love of fucking God could you just take two seconds to realize how great this is?”
Clary replied quickly without hesitation, “It's only going to be great if we make it back to the base. Now, as big of a fan as I am of walking a good 15 to 20 miles, it definitely isn't my favorite activity. Especially since I already rang the dinner bell. Who knows if more of those are on their way towards us or not?”
Earl said, “That's like 15 miles with no car, right?”
Everybody, especially Clary, ignored Earl's question. Scott didn't wait for anyone else to speak; he used both feet, pushing on the Turned’s shoulder to make enough room in the window, and started making his way out of the Humvee. He kept waiting for a pair of hands to grab on to his ankles and yank him out of the Humvee and tear him apart, ensuring the fact that he would never see his son again. That was not something which he wanted to do to his only boy. Scott obviously was well aware that his wife, who had died a painful, terrible death, would not be able to take care of the boy if something happened to him. As much as he thought the people on base seemed to be good, minus a few whose attitude he did not care for particularly, he still did not want someone else raising his own child.
The other four watched diligently, waiting to see if what Scott thought was going to happen would, and when he got the Turned out of the way, everyone saw the most beautiful sight they had ever laid eyes on, they thought. Or at least, as beautiful of something as you could say it was, when it came to the Turned. They walked out, feeling the hot sun striking their faces, and stood up looking around. None of them had ever seen so many of the Turned fall to a human's hand without a single bullet being fired. Everyone's hopes began to rise like mercury.
The group blinked, letting their eyes adjust to the bright sun. It was still unimaginable that such a thing had happened. Earl said, “Do ya’ll got any phones you could just maybe give us a quick call and have somebody come snag us?”
Greg said, “There hasn't been a working phone in a hell of a long time, Earl. We usually have radios, but I know I didn't bring mine today.”
Earl said, “So none of ya’ll thought I had, huh? You know it's planning like that that really just makes my asshole pucker.”
Clary said, “You realize we wouldn't be here right now if your ignorant ass would have had the intelligence to modify a weapon that only worked in certain environments. I just can't wrap my head around the way that you think.”
Earl replied, “You know, when I was younger, I tried out for the mentos club. Now, I didn't pass. But I sure was close. They said you get 500 points just for getting your name right. They said if I could have gotten one more letter of it not confused that I would have gotten 500 points. So how much longer ya'll want to stand around here looking at each other? Or do you think maybe we ought to start heading in the direction of y’alls camp. You do know how to get back to it, right?”
“I’m a Navy SEAL, asshole, we don’t get lost. We don’t make mistakes.”
“But you got your ride flipped over, and don’t have a bunch of them there radios that we could call someone and just get a quick ride back in a nice armor plated vehicle, right?”
“Earl, I feel like it is best if you and I no longer talk. Would you be alright with that?”
“I have a choice?”
“Not really,” Clary said as he started walking away.
Greg, who could see that he was flustered and secretly loved this fact, didn’t move an inch. Clary saw him and was going to yell but couldn’t deal with this. Greg threw him a bone and said, “I think that we need to get some supplies. We aren’t all Johnny ninja like Shaun boy over here. I still really like bullets and their effect on the Turned...but I do have to say that the effects of that powder are making my pants just a little bit tighter. Gimme two seconds to get my gear.”
Clary could feel a headache that he was annoyed to have, given the fact that there was so much hope that should be felt at the moment. Shaun took the rifles as Greg handed them out and was thinking it’d be fair if the other two had guns, but if they were smart and lucky, they would go the rest of the day without needing to use the rifles.
Chapter 11
Everyone did as told except for those unlucky few who were sitting in the middle seats in between people. Joe floored the gas, sending the giant
Humvee in reverse, trying to keep any distance that he could from the Turned, who only knew one speed. They raced across the field with a hate and hunger that had no equal. Ellie was thinking, but after all this time of waiting for Shaun or also trying to tell herself that he wasn't dead, then she finally got him back, and now after everything, she herself might not survive the day. Ellie was ready to pop the hatch on the Humvee and start sending cover fire until they could get the distance that they needed to get away. She was more than confident that, regardless of if they killed or not, they were not going to come back immediately from a blown-out hip, knee cap, or even a shot through an Achilles tendon. She felt two hands on either side of her hips, holding very firm, and did not leave any question of if they were trying to help her up or to bring her back down. Joey pulled as hard as he could, bringing Ellie back down in the back seat on his leg.
Joey said, “You go out there, you die. Joey isn't going to let anything happen to his favorite girl. You stay inside; look at what's coming!”
Ellie tried to fight to stand up but she wasn't going to be able to overpower Joey. When she realized she wasn't going to be doing what she wanted to do, she noticed very quickly why he was holding on to her like her life depended on it... It was pretty easy to figure out because her life would have ended and she would have opened up a hole for all of the dead to make their way into the Humvee, turning this mission to take care of the Turned once and for all into a death ride. Even as fast as Joe was driving, the Turned were making up distance not having to worry about not hitting cars and objects left in the road. The Turned were leaping over cars one after another, looking like Olympic hurdlers on crack. The gold medal they so desperately wanted was staying just a short distance ahead of them.
Everyone knew it was just a matter of time before they caught up. The Turned came from behind the vans as Joe was doing his absolute best to try and keep everyone alive and to keep from crashing the Humvee. He knew that staying calm in a crisis situation such as this was one of the most important factors in staying alive. His nerves were shot after he heard the fourth thud on the Humvee. No one could see the Turned which were up on top of the vehicle but the sick feeling that they were there was more than enough. Joe was going to say something when a child slid down the windshield. Joe figured the boy couldn't be more than six years old, and if it didn't have bleeding eyes and its entire left cheek torn from where it once belonged then it might have been a cute kid.
Joe pulled a pistol from his side. He placed it point blank up next to the glass ready to fire off a single round and decimate this kid’s skull. Ellie was going to yell shoot the son of a bitch in the head but Yassa beat her to it. “Joe you, you can't shoot him.”
Kya asked, “Why in the hell not? There's no coming back. Remember, that's like the entire reason we are out here is to get ingredients to make sure that he dies.”
“You misunderstood; I don't give two shits if you shoot him. I do care if we start putting bullet holes through this windshield and over a short amount of time, we are going to very quickly run out of windshield to protect us. I hope to God that we get out of here alive, but at the very least I'm not going to jeopardize your guys’ lives by guessing optimistically that we're going to make it out of here.”
Kya was ready to respond, but the boy, like any of the Turned, didn't realize what their head was actually for. The young boy began slamming his face directly up against the glass. Within the first three strikes he’d broken his nose and split his head open. When it still wouldn’t break, he began alternating with his fist and looked like at some point he'd started to actually try to bite them through the window. Ellie really wished they were back on the base and not out here putting themselves in jeopardy. The end result was absolutely worth it, but at the same time was stupidly dangerous. It never seemed as bad until it had long since hit the fan.
“Then can we get that thing off the hood before it breaks the windshield? I mean, unless you just want to go and make one hole in the window and then not do anything,” Joe said.
Joe was going to say hang on but it wasn’t going to matter the second that the action happened. Joe never let off from the gas and spun the wheel hard. Everyone but Yassa was screaming in terror, including Joe. Joey looked over at Yassa, seeing a smile from ear to ear. Ellie had her hand around the ‘oh shit’ handle. Her eyes were locked on the boy trying his damndest to get in. She smiled a little, feeling better about him being thrown from the hood so much that she had forgotten about the reason she was screaming in the first place. Joe shifted gears mid-turn and the Turned boy flew off, landing up against the side of a van. It should have crushed every bone in his body, but alas, that was not the case. He wasn’t going to catch up, but he sure as hell didn’t look like he was going to stop trying.
Hands were coming around and smashing at the windows. Joe was doing his best to think on the fly, but he did know that it’d still be important to get as far away from these things as possible. He just hoped that they had the time to get away before he dealt with his uninvited guests. Joe said something that made Ellie sick to her stomach. Ellie had not for a second even thought about it and the fact that she hadn’t made her feel a fool. He asked, “So, just a thought but if we are going to fetch all these ingredients to make more of that stuff, is there a reason that we didn’t fucking bring any with us? These bullets won’t do anything if we don’t have the time to fire them, damn it!”
Joey yelled, “You don’t use that word towards Ellie, Mr. Joe! It isn’t her fault that we didn’t bring that stuff that we probably should have brought.”
Ellie asked, “Sorry, but how is blame going to help anything at the moment? Your genius that wrote the list out for me didn’t seem smart enough to mention that we should bring any, and I’m pretty sure that guy has more than an unfinished junior high education. So, why don’t you go ahead and stick it where the sun don’t shine, if you have an issue. The only thing he was smart enough to do was to not come with.”
Joe was swerving the Humvee left and right, cursing at whatever was left up on top of its roof. He was thinking they must have some kind of amazing strength to be able to keep that kind of grip. Joe yelled, “We need to get these things off the roof.”
Ellie, usually respectful replied, “No shit, Joe. Do you have any ideas on how to make that work?”
“No, I have zero ideas, but Kya was so damn optimistic about shooting those things that I'd be more than happy if that was something you decided you wanted to do right now.”
Lucas, who had been sitting there ready to earn some respect from the original orphan’s brigade, thought out loud without waiting for anyone to say anything and said, “I'll roll the window down and I can lean out and shoot them.”
Ellie yelled no, just at the same time as he got the window down quicker than anyone would have expected him to. Ellie was really hoping that this wasn't going to play out like an absolute shit show, but anytime they left she felt like the plans they came up with were just God's way of making a joke.
Lucas used the ‘oh shit’ handle to steady himself, coming up off of the doors window ledge, and he tried to steady his rifle, realizing after the fact that he should have used a pistol; it would have probably been a whole hell of a lot easier to aim. But, nonetheless, options were limited and do-overs were nonexistent. Lucas aimed his rifle as well as he could, with his one free hand holding on to the ‘oh shit’ handle, and fired off two shots. The first of the two shots went through its gut and Lucas looked for where the second shot went and realized it probably completely missed. He was going to curse himself but he realized that it was not just a gunshot but it was also a spinal tap. Whatever that bullet did, if it didn't have zombie blood on it, he would give it a big wet kiss. The Turned looked directly at Lucas and started making its way his direction, but as it did, the spine gave out and it fell backwards, rolling off the rear of the Humvee. He smiled, pleased and proud with himself watching it bounce off of its head first and then would end up with s
ome horrific road rash.
Lucas screamed down inside of the Humvee yelling, “I got it! I got it God damn it I got it!”
Jon asked, “How many are there? You need to get all of them!”
Lucas was going to answer how many of them there were when he felt a pressure like he never had in his entire life grip the side of his face. Lucas tried to scream but he couldn't open his jaw, the hand clasped around his mouth might as well have been a vice. He tried pulling his head back, which did little good, and seemed to only annoy his pursuer even more. He was screaming bloody murder through his clenched teeth and there was little anyone was going to be able to do for the boy. Had he waited a second and gotten some advice, it would have been very strongly suggested that he didn't do anything stupid. He had just done more stupid than anybody should right now or really any time during a zombie apocalypse.