Guy two followed about a minute later, crossing right after a cluster of three zombies that shambled by. One of them seemed to have a broken or strained ankle, the dragging sound like nails on chalkboard to me. It masked what few sounds he made well, though, and with the next group still yards down the road, they didn’t notice. Part of me wanted to dash right after him, but Nate shook his head when I looked at him.
So waiting it was.
Endless waiting.
My breaths continued to come out in pressed pants, even though I tried to slow them down and exhale as silently as possible. It was still less loud than the chuffing sounds the zombies made—if they made any. If they were really dead, did they even need to breathe? They certainly needed air to howl, but those passing us looked rather placid—if that was ever a term used to describe the walking dead. Watching them, I tried to find patterns in their movements, but there was absolutely no synchronicity going on. Some walked faster, others slower; a few moved at almost a lumbering run while others dragged themselves on at barely more than a crawl. From time to time, one or another looked up with alarming alertness, stopping to scent the air or listen, it seemed, but continued after a few seconds. More than once I thought that the perfect opportunity had arrived to cross the road now, but Nate kept his hands to himself, making me even more anxious whenever the next zombies moved by.
What was he waiting for? Across the road, guy number two disappeared behind the house beyond the hedge, and a few moments later the other joined him. If I didn’t go now, I wouldn’t know where to run to next.
It was only a light tap on my arm, but enough to make me scramble up immediately. I held my breath as I ran across the street, trying to move as lithely and silently as possible. My mind screamed at me to look left and right, but I knew that I would freeze if I found a zombie coming right after me, and that would be that. The asphalt underneath my feet seemed to stretch for miles, and the sound of my footfalls was deafening. There was no way in hell that they couldn’t hear me—
And then I was across the street, my feet cushioned by soft grass rather than hard ground, but I kept running, right until I could duck behind the hedge. My thighs and calves were hurting with tension, and when I finally inhaled, my lungs were on fire with need for oxygen. Crouching down, I looked around, expecting Nate any moment now, but no one followed.
Counting to ten, I forced my pulse to slow down, then inched toward the edge of the hedge so I could look back out onto the road. More zombies, and still more. Then one stopped right in front of me and raised his face, making that sniffing sound as if he was scenting the air. Quickly pulling back out of sight, I waited until my breathing was moderately under my control, before I looked again. The zombie had moved on—but I still couldn’t see anything crouching by the ditch, not even when I looked up and down the road.
A scratching sound across the yard made me bolt upright, and when I stared into the darkness there, I detected movement. I was immediately convinced that something was coming for me, but when it stilled and then repeated itself, I realized that it was one of the guys signaling me to follow him. I hesitated for just a moment, then skipped across the lawn, keeping close to the hedge until I had to traverse the open space to the house. The moment I got there, the guy disappeared along the porch, and this time I followed right in his tracks.
A rattling sounds from one of the windows above us made us both freeze, and when I heard a low groan follow it, I had to force myself to remain immobile. More bumping, followed by a crash—then it was silent again. Was there someone inside the house? But then it made sense—if you were sick, you’d lock yourself in, right? And if you died… locked in zombie, voila! Realizing that, Nate’s cryptic remark about finding a place to make safe for hunkering down took on a whole new meaning.
More than a minute passed until we continued on, a little slower now and making sure to remain out of sight of the windows as much as possible. At the other end of the house, the other guy joined us, and as soon as we’d managed to squeeze through a hole in the hedge—the resulting rustling sounds giving me a heart attack—Andrej and Nate were suddenly right there, both panting with exertion.
In single file, but still together, we slinked along the picket fence that encased this lawn, moving over to the house, then back to the fence on the other side. The next problem we encountered was the gate—even to my unexperienced eyes it clearly created a funnel, with the zombies visible moving along beyond the slates.
Instead of going for that, guy number two vaulted—slowly—over the fence, disappearing next to the road. A second later, a howl went off right where he’d landed, followed by a chorus of loud screams. Immediately, every single zombie on the road turning toward the sound, rushing in. Fear closed down my throat, but while I was still contemplating in horror what was going on just outside the fence, Nate’s hand came down hard on my shoulder, jarring me. When I didn’t immediately go for the gate, he pulled me physically to my feet and shoved me toward the barrier, and didn’t let go until we were both stumbling out onto the road. There were zombies everywhere around us, but for the moment they ignored us in favor of—
Sprinting down the road after guy number two, who was just rounding a corner into another street. I didn’t need Nate’s directions to run right for the driveway ahead of us, ducking into the garden around the two cars parked there. Panting heavily, I leaned back against the cool metal, but before I could relax, Nate pulled me back up and continued sprinting across the property. The reason became apparent momentarily when I heard more howling and chuffing behind us.
They might have ignored us as we’d stumbled onto the road, likely unrecognizable from any other zombies shambling around, but now that we were running away, we’d obviously drawn their interest. It was just a small group—four or five that I could see—but still enough to make me tear after Nate as fast as my legs would carry me. Loud pounding from inside the house spurred me on further, and I didn’t stop at the back of the yard where another hedge blocked our path. Twigs snagged at my clothes and hair but I tore right through the hole Nate had already punched with his body, almost falling flat on my ass when I was free on the other side. Everything inside of me was screaming to keep running, but Nate instead pulled me down next to a compost heap, the cloying aroma so strong that it made me gag.
From our hiding place we could see three of the zombies make it through the hedge, but it took them much longer than us. Once out on the lawn, they looked around, snapping their teeth at each other and growling, but they seemed to have lost our tracks. Still agitated, they went this way and that, until the sound of a gunshot from further down the valley made them stop, then run off in that direction, straight through the vegetable patch and a group of bushes.
Nate waited a small eternity before he motioned silently toward the house. I nodded, starting forward when he didn’t. He stayed right behind me, close enough that the few sounds he made were indistinguishable from mine. Another gunshot—followed by what sounded like an entire magazine from a rifle—rang out in the distance, making me jump but not stop. With the amount of adrenaline pumping through my veins, it felt as if I’d never come down from that high again.
We made it around the house without further altercations. This one thankfully had no front fence, but that also meant that we were out in the open as soon as we left the safety of the porch. Slinking to the property border, I looked out onto the road, but this one lay deserted. Beyond, there was only a single row of houses left, lifting a weight off my chest. Looking up and down the road, I veered to the right when I saw that the house next up had no fence, either. My heart still pounding like mad, I sank down by a small garden shed, waiting for Nate, then continued on by the house and into the fields beyond.
There was motion all over the valley now, but I realized from the stop and go some of the groups were doing that they must belong to us rather than the undead hordes. While the zombies did move with bursts of speed, they never crouched—unless to eat—and I was
sure that I would have heard the distinction. I was still tense as I continued through the grass toward the woods, but already some of the imminent fright drained.
That was, until I was maybe ten yards away from the first trees, and suddenly a zombie came running straight at me.
It had been a man—I thought, judging from the bulk—and he was on me before I could even think about running. Fingers seized my hair and wrenched me around, snapping teeth and foul breath suddenly in my face. I screamed—because what else would you do in my place?—and brought my arms up, trying to make it let go. From the corner of my eye, I saw Nate raise the butt of his rifle to smash it into the back of the zombie’s head, but that only made it howl, not let go. As it turned to face Nate, it pretty much dragged me along by my hair, drawing a pained gasp from me. Nate tried to land another bash, but the zombie deflected it with his free arm, continuing to drag me along. Unable to wrench myself free, I did the next best thing and stuck out my leg, making the zombie trip right over it.
We both went down, but at least I ended up on top. Reaching for the hand still clawed into my hair, I sank my fingers into the back of it, but that didn’t seem to have any effect. I tried prying them away but that wasn’t working too well, either, as they immediately tightened again. So I started breaking them, the first crunch making me shudder, the second almost hurl. The zombie howled again but I wasn’t sure if it was because of what I did or from where it was wrestling with Nate.
And then I was free, staggering to my feet. The zombie didn’t hesitate and brought its half mangled hand to claw toward Nate’s face. Looking around frantically, I saw the rifle discarded uselessly on the floor, while Nate was trying to slash at the zombie with his knife. Yet with the zombie on top of him—and now twice as effective because it wasn’t holding on to me anymore—he was fighting a losing battle.
Without thinking, I picked up the rifle. I had no idea how to use it, but it still worked quite sufficiently as I gripped the muzzle and brought down the heavy end of it like a club. One time, two, and the zombie went slack, bits of bone and brains splattering everywhere on my third hit. Nate had likely already bashed in its skull, and now I’d done the rest.
Gasping, I staggered back, watching as Nate went slack, then kicked the zombie off his body. He remained lying on his back a moment longer, his free hand clutching his side before he rolled over and came laboriously to his feet. The knife disappeared again and he accepted his rifle from me, slinging it back over his head.
For a moment we kept staring at each other, panting, and I just waited for him to scold me for not running like he’d told me, but then he gave a curt nod—likely the only thanks I would get. I even managed a slight smile in return. Stepping up to me, he reached behind me, and with a yank freed the aluminum bat from my pack. With a smirk, I took it from him, and off toward the trees we went.
Chapter 6
It took the better part of two hours until everyone was accounted for. Surprisingly, we hadn’t lost anyone, not even Skip and his two friends. On the contrary—Pia and her group had run into a pair of hunters who had been hiding in one of the garden sheds. At least I thought they were hunters, judging from their orange patterned camo vests that even the darkness of the night couldn’t completely hide. They were both in their late fifties, early sixties, but managed to keep up with the pace. Not for a single moment did they protest that Pia and Nate were in charge, and fell in silently with the rest.
Now north of the valley floor, we kept to the edge of the woods, making slow progress, but it was safer than out in the open, and faster going than in the complete darkness of the forest. The hunters were locals, knowing the deer trails like their own backyards—and, even more importantly, the roads crisscrossing the countryside. We went on like that for three hours until we had to leave the safety of the woods to make it across another road, but this one was less frequented. I still felt ready to keel over once we were in the field beyond, but there was no rest for the wicked. On and on we trudged, until the sky started to lighten in the east behind us.
We were halfway up a ravine, a small stream gurgling by in its washed-out bed, when Nate called for a stop. I was out cold as soon as I’d chowed down the contents of a can of tuna, wasting not a single thought on how bad my breath must be smelling now.
I startled awake a few times, but when all around me people were still sleeping pretty much where they’d sat down, I dozed right off again. Eventually, the call of nature forced me to get up and step out behind a tree, and I felt more relieved than ashamed when one of the sentries walked by a short distance away, averting his gaze but still scanning the forest. How things could change—just a day and a half ago I had been mortified to piss into a bucket in the corner of our glass cube prison, and now I was anxious until I was back between the snoring heaps of bodies.
I was still exhausted enough that even standing up was a feat, but I couldn’t quite fall back asleep. So I remained rolled up around myself, my head cushioned on my pack, aluminum bat right next to my hand, and stared at the light green of the leaves above me. So peaceful. So quiet. So fucking unreal.
The low murmur of voices made me look up after a while. Craning my neck to glance over the lump sleeping a few feet away from me—Cho, I realized—I could just see Pia and Nate sitting on a log at the edge of our camp. He had taken off his jacket and shirt, the now-stained bandages in full view. The Ice Queen was poking and prodding around the edges, but didn’t remove them. The look on her face was grim enough to make my heart sink, but Nate just gave her a sick smile before he shrugged back into his clothes. They continued to talk, sharing a can of cold beans. A while later, Martinez joined them, looking more alert than he should have with dark circles clear under his eyes. He happily accepted what was left of the beans, munching away while the other two kept talking between them.
Something made them all look up and stare across the group, and fear flamed alive inside of me. Yet the sentry passing by on slow, silent feet didn’t react, so it couldn’t have been anything alarming. The sound repeated itself, and I realized that it was a cough. Not that out of the ordinary, really—even mostly silent now, the camp was full of heavy breathing, snoring, and all the other occasional sounds that sleeping humans made. A surprising amount of sound, but maybe I only noticed that now that everything else around us was silent except for the twittering of the birds and the gentle rustle of the leaves. No din of the city, no planes overhead, no cars whizzing by in the distance.
And still—the look Nate and Pia traded was less than happy.
After he was done with the beans, Martinez got up and made a brief round through the camp, crouching down next to every lump and gently shaking them awake, trading a few words here, a Band-Aid or bandage there. I followed his progress through camp, but felt increasingly restless, so I got up to walk over to Nate and the Ice Queen—leaving my pack behind, but taking the bat. I was sure that was the reason behind the slight smile playing around Nate’s mouth as I joined them, plunking my ass on the log beside him.
“Morning, sunshine,” he offered. I just looked right back at him, sure that there wasn’t a single emotion on my face.
“Have I ever mentioned that I’m not a morning person?”
His smile grew, but really, it didn’t hold a candle to what I was used to from… before.
“How late is it?”
He checked his watch. “Just after ten.”
Pretty much an entire day had passed since the Green Fields Biotech building had come down on us. Considering how beaten and bruised I felt, every single muscle in my body hurting, I wasn’t sure if it was exactly triumph that realization made me feel. But, hey, we were still around and kicking—while so many others weren’t.
Looking around the camp, I wondered who would be next. I couldn’t help but feel like, all things considered, it should have been me. Then again, Sam always insisted that sheer stubbornness would carry me everywhere, so…
Had insisted, I reminded myself, feeling my t
hroat close up with tears for a second. Somehow hoping that she was in a better place now—surviving certainly didn’t feel that great, so that wasn’t a stretch of the imagination—didn’t really help.
More to distract myself than anything else, I turned back to Nate. My thoughts weren’t good company right now.
“What’s up for the day? Let me guess—more walking and running for our lives?”
He shrugged, appearing way too relaxed for the grimness of the topic, but then gallows humor sounded like a psychologically good idea.
“I’m sure I’ll find an occasion for you to finally christen that bat of yours. You’re awfully fond of blunt weapons.”
“I’m even more fond of not getting ripped to shreds,” I offered, staring down at the pristine bat. “And I can’t shoot, let alone hit, so, yeah. And you didn’t look like you had anything to complain about last night.”
Nate left it at a small smile for an answer.
“We’ll change that as soon as we get out of densely populated areas,” the Ice Queen offered. When I eyed her askance, she indicated the shotgun resting between her and Nate with her chin. “That you can’t shoot for shit,” she explained.
There didn’t seem to be the option of me bowing out of this, and if I was honest, any pacifistic streak I’d ever had had died a sudden, violent death somewhere between the rubble that had been my former work place and the bridge out of town.
Martinez returned to us, sitting down on my other side.
“You doing okay?”
I nodded. “Okay” wasn’t exactly what I was feeling like, but considering that “dead” or “maimed” seemed to be the likely alternatives, “okay” sounded good enough.
Green Fields (Book 2): Outbreak Page 7