Hissers II: Death March

by Ryan C. Thomas

  New tears came as Amanita saw the reflection of herself in the mirror. A large patch of blood splotched her right cheek and her hair was black and singed. Her lip was split and her right eye swollen black, both likely done when she’d been trying to head butt her attackers. “I’m hideous,” she cried. “Look what they did to me. They ripped my skin off.”

  “I know, Am. I know. Sit on the toilet and let me clean you up.”

  She sat down, remembering how she’d done this before with Nicole. How they’d cried and talked about Connor to get their minds off of the monsters that had been chasing them. Only this time she couldn’t get her mind off things because it hadn’t been monsters that did this, but fellow humans.

  “It’s okay,” Doug kept whispering. “I’m here now. I’m here.”

  When her legs were bandaged, she asked, “How did you find me? I thought you were dead.”

  “Me too. I’ll tell you about it when we get outta here. For now, see if you can put your pants on and let’s get going.”

  She stood up and slid her jeans on. They rubbed terribly against her wounds but the gauze helped. She looked in the mirror once again. “My fucking hair.” Thankfully, the flames had just begun to touch her skin when Doug had arrived. There were some welts and blisters, some superficial bleeding, but nothing that wouldn’t heal soon enough. Still, she looked like someone had attacked her with a Flowbee.

  “I’ll find you a shirt,” Doug said.

  “No! I don’t want anything of theirs touching my body.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Do you know how to get to the road?”

  “Maybe. It was easier coming in because I could hear your screams. Going back is going to be tough. It’s a lot of woods. But, you know, as with any bit of wilderness, if you walk in a straight line you’re bound to come out on a road somewhere.”

  Back outside, they saw that the family, with the exception of Eunice and Luke, were awake and struggling against their bindings. “You’ll die for this, whore,” Harold said. “You and your demon both.”

  Doug sat down in front of Harold and punched him square in the face. Harold spit out a tooth. “That’s for insulting the girl,” he said. “This is for being a general waste of space on this planet.” He punched him again and knocked him out.

  “You’ll never get out of here alive,” Michelle said. “The woods are thick and the undead can smell you.”

  “Can it, you ugly pig.” Amanita slapped her in the face. She then picked up the torch, which was still lit, and walked over to the cabin. “The hissers may be out there somewhere, but they’re not gonna be coming for us. Not when they see the bright light we’re leaving on for them.”

  “You wanna do that?” Doug asked her.

  She thought of General Winston Davis and how his crippled body had lain on the baseball field in Castor. How they’d left him there to die and felt no remorse for it, justifying it by knowing it was his fault this whole apocalypse had started. She looked at the family that tried to kill her. That had tortured her and disfigured her. “It’s more of a fighting chance than they gave me. So yeah. I’m doing this.”

  She set the torch to the cabin and watched it catch flame. As the fire licked higher toward the roof, she dropped the torch and motioned toward the woods. “After you.”

  Doug nodded. “Right. Let’s go on and git.”

  FRIDAY, 10:12 PM

  Outside, the night air was dropping toward jacket weather. The green landscape was turning over into desert. There were no street lights working, and the blackness stretched so far it resembled unexplored the vastness of the deep sea. “Where are we?” Connor asked. “I think I can see houses and stuff, back there on that hill.”

  Olive stared out the windshield as she drove, her one headlight doing its best to light up the pot-holed road. “St. Gregory. AKA, the middle of nowhere. My Mom’s place is coming up.”

  Connor could tell by the way she spoke of her mom she was worried. Beyond worried. Holding onto hope she didn’t even believe was there anymore. The way she stared out the window and chewed her lower lip meant she could only be daydreaming of the worst. What would happen if they got there and her Mom was dead, or turned into one of those things? Would she break down, lose her mind, or into some comic book vigilante? He wanted to console her, tell her he knew the feeling, but at the same time he didn’t want to worry her. It was possible the hissers hadn’t gotten this far yet. Maybe the lack of traffic and electricity was just the character of this small town. A lot of streetlights were on timers and sensors, right? Maybe everyone was inside their homes just watching TV.

  No, that wasn’t it. Something was definitely going on here. There should have been signs of life, but there weren’t. The plague had made it out here somehow.

  He looked over at her, that determined frown on her face. He simply said, “It’ll be okay.”

  “Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be, right? We’re driving faster than those things run. Has to be okay. Power is out all over the country, doesn’t mean everyone is…”

  Dead, Connor thought. He canned the trees as the car slowed and turned onto a main street bisecting a small neighborhood with single story homes. The car lurched over a small child’s bike lying in the middle of the street.

  “Shit,” Olive said, steadying the car again. “Didn’t even see that.”

  Connor looked out the back window, checking to see if a child had been riding it. But no, it was just abandoned in the street. Not a good sign, he thought. Then again, who knows, maybe the kids here are just irresponsible.

  “Stupid kids,” Olive said.

  “Least there was no one on it.”

  Like the street, there were no lights on in the houses. It was certainly ominous, but again he didn’t want to freak Olive out by suggestion the hissers might have been here already.

  “There’s her house,” Olive said, braking in the middle of the road. “Her car is in the driveway. There’s no lights on.” Her breath became labored, anxious.

  “Sleeping, maybe?”

  “No, she’s a night owl. She should be up watching the Game Show Channel or something. I don’t like this. I don’t like the look of this whole street. It’s fucking dark as shit and those things could be anywhere…if they’re here. Shit, kid, what am I gonna do if she’s dead. I don’t think I can do this? I can’t lose my mom.”

  It was a refrain Connor had heard too many times already. And yet, he still didn’t know how to answer it. “I know this is scary, Olive, but I’m here. Do you want me to look for you?”

  “I dunno. What if she’s…you know…ripped apart and half eaten? How do I go on? I have no husband, no boyfriend, just her. I have no other family. Don’t you realize what that means? I know how to take care of myself and I don’t take shit from people but, seriously, I’m so alone.” She was holding back tears.

  For the first time in his life, Connor felt a cosmic shift inside his mind. Life wasn’t just fragile, it was all but meaningless. And yet, somehow, it was the most amazing thing his mind could comprehend. We can make differences, he realized, that can spread out like waves throughout everything. Out into space and beyond, like Earth’s own TV signals. He touched her, feeling inadequate, but needing to share his own emptiness and confusion, sort of glad he wasn’t the only one with such pessimism and hope rolled into one feeling. “Yeah, I do know what it means. I watched my parents die. I ran over my mother. My best friends died. I know the feeling. The loss of breath, the cloudy vision, your brain doing somersaults. I’ve been there. And I’m sorry. We can at least keep on driving, though.”

  She looked down at his hand on her thigh, put her own hand on it and squeezed. “Christ, I forgot about your parents, Connor. I’m sorry. Look at me, crying before we know what’s going on and acting like you haven’t been through far worse. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. But what do you want to do here? If we’re not going to look inside we should get back on the freeway.”

  She withdrew he
r hand, prompting him to withdraw his as well. “No. I have to go inside and see if she’s there. I have to know.”

  Together, they sat and looked at the house for minute before Connor raised his gun. He’d counted his ammunition after leaving the truck stop, a habit he’d long ago formed while playing first person shooters on his Xbox. He had exactly four bullets left. It wasn’t enough to stop a horde of hissers. But maybe enough to put down Olive’s mom if she popped out of the shadows ready to eat them. “I’m ready when you are.”

  Olive opened her door, took her rifle from the back seat, and the small flashlight she’d packed. “She keeps a spare key in a fake sprinkler system spigot near the back door. I always told her it was stupid because she has no real system so anyone casing the house wouldn’t be fooled.”

  “Seems like a nice neighborhood. Probably no one would want to rob her.”

  “Trust me, kid, in these types of towns this is exactly the type of neighborhood that gets robbed. Retired people, nuclear families, mini dachshunds and Dodge Caravans. Security consists of deadbolts and motion sensor lights. That’s it. But I digress…. Alright, stay close to me.”

  They made their way up the driveway, passed slowly by the beige Taurus parked there, peeked inside its windows but saw nothing of import, and then continued around to the back of the house. Olive took the spare key from its hiding spot and inserted it into the back door. It opened with a creak.

  Tentatively, they stepped inside where darkness engulfed them.

  The first thing Connor noticed was the smell of trash. It was rancid, thick.

  Olive called out as quietly as she could while still letting her voice carry down the halls. “Mom? It’s me, Mom. You here?”

  There was no response. Olive turned on the flashlight and played it around, illuminating a stove, a long counter with a microwave on it, and a kitchen table covered in some dirty dishes. Connor stepped forward and touched the fridge. It wasn’t running, which likely explained the smell of rotted meat. “Well the power’s definitely off,” he said.

  “Mom?” Olive continued, continuing down a short hallway and passing through an archway opening. “You here?”

  Connor followed her into a small living room. A small couch and green recliner were empty. A twenty inch television on an entertainment stand took up one wall. A bookshelf with nick nacks occupied another. He moved to the picture window and pushed the curtains aside to let in some moonlight, which wasn’t much. “Bedroom?” he asked.

  “This way.”

  They went down another small hallway, past an empty bathroom, past a small room that was being used for storage by the looks of it, to the door at the end of the hall. It was shut, and as Olive reached out for the knob, she stopped, turned and handed the flashlight to Connor. He took it and watched as she unslung her rifle and held it in front of her.

  “Please God,” she said, “don’t make me have to shoot my mother.”

  Connor raised his gun and aimed it at the door, sidled up next to Olive. “I break left, you swing right. We don’t have men behind us to cover our front so after you swing your direction swing forward again. Two motions each. Like this.” He mimicked the move, swinging left, then straight again.

  “What’re you a Navy SEAL?”

  “No, just cleared a lot of rooms in tactical games. You’d be surprised how life like they are. Trust me.”

  Olive reached out and turned the knob, pushed the door open. “Mom? You in here?”

  No answer, as Connor expected by now.

  “Okay go,” he said, swinging in and turning left. Behind him Olive came in and swung right, which he learned a moment later was moot because there was just a wall with a broken window there. So she swung back again, both of them now aiming at a queen size bed which was unmade. Aside from a dresser and a floor mirror, the room was empty.

  Olive sat down on the bed. “She’s gone. They must have got her.” She put her head in her hands and shook it.

  Connor stood against the wall and watched her. He felt bad for her, but in a selfish way he was starting not care. Not about an old woman he’d never met, anyway. It was rude, but he couldn’t help it. It was time to for Olive to put this behind her and move on. If they weren’t going to hole up here, then they needed to get driving again.

  “She’s gone, kid. She’s just gone.”

  Connor moved to the window, saw blood spattered on it. “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh God, I wish I could have been smart enough to realize what was going on earlier and come and gotten her.”

  “It’s spread too fast, Olive. No one knew. Don’t blame yourself.”

  She knuckled tears from her eyes and stood up, looked at the window and then turned away. “Okay. Okay. Let’s go. I don’t want to be here.”

  They moved back down the hall, through the living room, down the other hall and into the kitchen. There they stopped while Olive looked at the house once more, looking past its walls and into the past. Probably thinking of old birthdays and dinner with Mom. “Bye, Mom,” she whispered, and opened the back door.

  They stepped outside and froze. Standing in the middle of the backyard was an old woman with yellow eyes and a blood-soaked mouth. She was naked from the waist down. One arm was missing. A child’s foot stuck out from her hip. She looked right at Connor and Olive and hissed, eyes going wide.

  Olive took a deep breath. “Hi, Mom.”

  FRIDAY 10:14 PM

  They’d been walking through the woods for hours, Doug in front, breaking through branches, Amanita in the rear doing her best to keep an ear open for any followers. The pain from the burns on her legs was getting worse, exacerbated by the long trek. The smell of the singed ends of her hair followed her like a fog. Behind them the glow from the flaming cabin continued to bounce off the low clouds and provide faint illumination.

  Just like when the plane crashed into that shitty fort, Amanita thought.

  Only this was potentially more dangerous, because they hadn’t met the hissers yet back then, and now she was sure the undead here—in whatever God forsaken county they were in— must surely smell the smoke and see the orange clouds.

  “I feel like we’re going in circles,” she said.

  Doug grunted and pushed through more thicket. “I got the moon up to my left. Been keeping it in position as much as possible to keep us on a straight line.”

  “But the moon moves like the sun does, right?”

  “Well sure it does, but I’m compensating for it. Least I think I am. Anyway, I fell like the woods are thinning out a bit. Like they do when electrical lines run near roads. So I think we’re getting close.”

  “I hope so. I’m kind of cold.” Amanita still only wore Doug’s suit jacket over her top, which covered her well enough, but was so bulky it let the colder night air in.

  “Still say you should have grabbed some clothes from the Manson Family back there.”

  “I told you. I don’t want their shit touching me.” Briefly, she wondered if any of the burning cabin had spread to where Doug had tied those bastards up. If they burn to death, she thought, I don’t think I’ll care.

  “Watch out for this thorn bush.” Doug broke off some giant branches and helped Amanita get by. They continued on in line again.

  “My hair is still falling out in places. This totally sucks.”

  “Just thinking about how they could do that makes me so pissed. But let’s just keep moving. And best to stay quiet.”

  There was a sound behind her. Snap!

  “Hold up. I heard something.”

  Doug turned around looked over her shoulder. “I don’t see anything.” They stayed still for a minute waiting to her if the sound returned but it didn’t. “Probably a squirrel or something.”

  “You willing to take that chance, Doug, considering current events?”

  “Of course not. But what else do we do? Sit down and wait for morning when we’re lit up by the sun and those walking corpses can trap us like some kind of continental
breakfast.”

  “No. I guess not. I just want to know we’re headed toward something good.”

  The sound returned again. Snap! This time it was Doug who turned around first. “Okay, that I heard,” he said. “That’s a footfall.”

  More came in rapid succession. Snap snap snap. Someone—or something— was walking through the woods, and was close by. Amanita scanned the darkness, struggling to see through the branches and leaves. If she squinted should could make out shadows moving among the tree trunks, but she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just the forest moving. Then she saw two glowing orbs blink before going black. It was a pair of eyes. Reflective like a raccoons, not a human’s. Or was she wrong about that. Did a human’s eyes reflect moonlight too?

  They winked on again, far away, two glowing luminescent spheres floating sideways. Then they were gone. “Something is in here with us,” she whispered.

  “Yeah,” said Doug, looking in the opposite direction, intently spying on something in the black. “I see them. I see eyes.”

  “Me too.” Amanita shook with fear. “Oh my God what do we do?”

  “Shh. Hush up. I can’t be so sure it’s them dead things. Looks like animals. Maybe wolves or bears.”

  “Are you fucking shitting me? Bears?” For a second she wasn’t sure what was worse, being eaten by undead humans that might turn her into a blood-thirsty demon, or becoming a pile of bear shit near a muddy stream. But she supposed a permanent death from an animal was better than whatever it felt like to become a murderous evil entity.

  “I said they might be. I can’t tell. Look, just keep moving, the trees are definitely thinning out. We have to be near a road.”

  Now the snaps were followed by a low guttural growl. Amanita felt shivers race up her back. Her legs went weak. “Ok, seriously, what the hell is that?”

  Doug reached back and took her hand, yanked her forward. “C’mon, run. Go!” He put her in front of him as they barreled through the woods, all too aware of the twig-snapping echoes of their pursuers closing in. The growling grew deeper, louder, more frequent. It practically echoed in the darkness.