by Unknown
He hoped the creatures fighting Reginald had taken care of him.
He deserved to die for what he'd done to Charlie and to Donna.
And for all Simon knew, what he'd done to Billy and Tom.
Son of a bitch.
He gritted his teeth as he tried to quell the aching in his body. The fight with Reginald and the fall down the hill had sapped his strength. He needed to keep going.
Simon snuck through oaks and pines, hiding behind the thick trunks when he needed to, heading in the general direction of the RV. He couldn't allow his friends to be killed the way his sister had been. The memory of Rebecca's dying, pained face still haunted him. Even after his efforts to save her, he'd been too late.
He couldn't have the deaths of Sandy, Hector, Marcia, and Anabel on his conscience, too. He hadn't realized it before, but he understood why he'd stayed with them now—they'd given him hope that there was something on the other side of this.
He let that thought drive him as he skirted through the trees, picking up speed as he ran for the RV.
He barely saw Reginald stepping out from behind the tree.
Pain lanced through Simon's left shoulder as he managed to turn, avoiding a knife in the back. He cried out, reflexively reaching for the blade embedded in his shoulder. Reginald was already attempting to pull it out. Simon spun and pushed the man away, thrusting him into a tree.
Reginald's face was marred with blood. His eyes darted wildly and his shirt hung off of him. Bite marks flecked his stomach. He ran at Simon, but Simon held up his hands, meeting him. Simon's shoulder screamed from the stuck blade, but there was no time to deal with the pain. There was only time to fight, to live.
Reginald shrieked in rage and clutched onto Simon. Simon threw him sideways. Reginald exhaled as the breath was knocked from him. Simon cocked back his right arm and punched Reginald in the face. He punched him again, causing Reginald to cough and spit blood. Reginald skirted to the side. His eyes blazed as he watched the knife.
He lunged. Simon tried avoiding him, but Reginald caught the knife handle, twisting it. Flashes of light crossed Simon's eyes as he fought against the intense pain. He flung a fist, catching Reginald in the nose, bursting it open.
"You son of a bitch!" Reginald screamed.
He held his broken nose and stepped backward.
As Simon's vision cleared, he surveyed the area in which they were fighting. Branches stuck out at all angles from the trunks of fallen trees. Reginald had backed up next to one of them. Simon didn't wait for the right moment.
He charged, knocking into Reginald with all his weight, thinking of Charlie, and Donna, and his companions that were left behind in the RV. He thought of Reginald's threats to starve them, and his empty promises to keep them safe.
Dan had been right. So had Sandy.
Simon hurled Reginald backward and into the fallen tree. Reginald cried out as he landed on one of the severed, sharp branches, the pointed end coming through his stomach, spraying his blood all over Simon. Reginald looked from Simon to the wound, as if it might be some illusion.
And then Reginald's head slumped forward, his eyes staring blankly at the forest as they lost light.
Chapter Forty-One
Sandy, Hector, and Marcia shot the creatures that were climbing over the windowsill. Every few seconds, a vicious face would appear, and they'd shoot it back, watching the thing plummet into a mob of others. They'd given up on using knives in favor of guns. It was too dangerous to get close to the creatures, with so many in close proximity.
The banging continued on all sides of the RV. Sandy feared the vehicle would start to sway, topple over, and pin them inside. The possibility was unlikely, but who knew what was possible anymore? A while ago, she was living a quiet, normal life, enjoying time with her brother.
Now she was engaged in a bitter struggle for her life.
Some of their shots connected, but others dinged off the interior of the RV. The world had become a chaotic combination of groans and gunfire. Sandy felt as if she'd descended into a hellish warzone, battling creatures that were closer to demons than humans. The smell of blood from Harold's body hung in the air, a reminder that Sandy and the others might join him soon. She had a quick thought of Simon, and wondered if he'd fared any better, but she didn't have time to think about it further. One of the creatures ripped away her attention.
Sandy aimed at a longhaired, scraggly creature that had gotten a leg up over the windowsill. Its boot was caked with dirt. Its face was stained with blood. She pulled the trigger, but missed. She fired again. Her gun clicked empty.
"Dammit! I'm out!" she yelled to the others.
Hector and Marcia moved to cover her while she fumbled to reload, tucking in a new magazine. She joined the others in blasting the things, watching as several more creatures toppled out of view. Once their ammunition was out, they'd have no choice but to fight in close quarters.
A particularly loud bang drew her attention to the front of the vehicle. She looked around, panicked. Had one of the creatures gotten in?
"Shit! Over there!" Hector yelled, pulling her attention to the front windshield. One of the creatures crawled over the glass. She could see its shadow through the visor. More creatures joined it. The windshield groaned underneath the creatures' boots and bare, bloodied feet. Several of them jumped up and down on the pane.
She looked around for something that might prevent the glass from caving, even though that was probably impossible.
The pane shattered.
Creatures poured through the pane and onto the front seats and the dashboard, oblivious to the fragments of glass that were cutting them. Their black eyes darted around the vehicle as they spotted Sandy, Hector, and Marcia. Sandy backpedaled, trying to gain distance while firing at them. The creatures clambered over the steering wheel, trampling the windshield protector. Sandy bumped into Marcia and Hector.
They fired as a single unit at the salivating, hissing infected. More creatures converged on the opening.
"Shit! I'm out of bullets!" Hector yelled.
He lowered his rifle and reached for spare ammunition as he screamed at the others to keep shooting.
Sandy looked right. The creatures were climbing over the windowsills. She looked straight ahead, where creatures crawled over the fallen bodies of the dead. She shared a look with Marcia that neither needed to interpret.
We'll never kill them all.
Chapter Forty-Two
Simon's arm burned as he ran, but he didn't think any arteries or nerves were damaged, because he could move it. As soon as he'd been away from Reginald, he'd pulled out the knife, but now he questioned that decision. Blood leaked from the wound. He'd tied it up with a strip of his t-shirt, but that was only helping so much. He didn't have time to analyze it further.
He needed to get to the RV.
He patted his pocket, ensuring that the van keys he'd taken from Reginald were still there. He raced in the direction of the gunshots, which were still loud and prevalent enough to convince him that his friends were still alive. Simon heaved thick breaths as he ran through the forest, heading toward an incline that lead to a higher elevation. That was where the RV was. At least, he thought so.
He listened to gunfire echo through the forest, fearing it would stop and make him lose his way. His legs ached as he pushed himself up the incline, moving diagonally to cover more ground. The slope was rocky and peppered with shrubs and trees, but he used his good hand to hang on to them, helping him along. When he reached the top, he located the RV through the trees.
The creatures had surrounded the vehicle. Even from a distance, he saw the things crawling over the windshield and leaping up at the windows. The side windows had been smashed. He heard groans and stamping feet from inside. Simon ran toward the scene. His fear was that his friends would die the same way so many others had—trapped in a place they thought was safe, which had turned into a tomb.
A shout echoed from the RV. Simon's blood raced
as he got within a hundred yards. He looked around the campsite, his brain screaming at him to react. The minivan was positioned between him and the RV. Although the creatures had breached the RV, they'd left the minivan alone.
He sprinted toward the minivan, certain that the creatures would turn toward him in a single mass, but they remained preoccupied with the RV. Once they saw him, they'd charge. He just hoped for a few moments of reprieve—enough to get to the vehicle. He slipped through the trees as his arm pulsed pain, begging him to slow down. But he didn't. And then he was at the van, opening the door, hopping in.
One of the rifles was sitting in the passenger's seat. The other weapons were gone. Sandy must've grabbed what she could. At least, that was his guess. He recalled the pistol that had skittered under the RV, but that wouldn't help him now.
Simon grabbed the rifle, stuck it on his lap, and started the van.
A handful of creatures turned in his direction.
Simon stomped the gas, steered toward the RV, stuck his rifle out the window, and fired. One of the creatures fell from the gunshot, while another hit the bumper of the minivan, tumbling sideways. Simon took a wide berth as he drove past the RV, keeping to the fringes of the hungry fray and driving over an open patch of forest. Rocks rumbled under the tires as he traveled over hard terrain. He shot several more creatures, balancing the wheel, knowing that if he stopped moving, he'd die.
He swerved past the RV and into the woods, narrowly avoiding a cluster of trees, and turned so he could spin around for another pass. Several of the creatures broke from the RV and ran, catching up. Simon hit the gas and raced forward, nicking the side of a tree with the front bumper.
He laid on the horn.
The noise was loud and piercing, overshadowing the hungry din of the creatures.
More of them broke from what they were doing and started following him. He let go of the horn and shot a few that were in proximity of the driver's side, sending them sprawling. Catching a glimpse through the RV's windshield, he saw movement inside.
"Sandy! Hector! Marcia!" he cried.
He gritted his teeth and rammed into several other creatures as he swung back onto the dirt road. The minivan groaned in protest. Facing the RV, he watched as more creatures flooded toward him. He hit the horn several more times to keep their attention. Simon sped forward again, calling his companions' names. He heard a screamed response from inside the RV.
Someone was alive.
Using that noise to drive him, he fired his rifle out the window, drawing the attention of more creatures as he spun the wheel to turn around. The creatures gave chase, their eyes black and their expressions hungry. Simon headed for the dirt road, hoping he could lead them away.
Chapter Forty-Three
"Where's he going?" Hector asked, looking out the windows as the minivan sped off.
Sandy's shock at seeing Simon alive was overshadowed by the fact that he was in danger. More of the creatures flooded from the RV to the minivan, following the moving target. Hector stabbed a few who were still trying to climb in the sills. Sandy slipped her blade into several of the creatures that had come in through the front windshield. Soon, nothing was left moving.
Bodies of the dead were sprawled over the seats and on the floor. Blood oozed into the seats. The odor of death filled the air. But the creatures were gone.
She looked back at Hector and Marcia. "We're not safe here," she warned, cleaning her knife on the floor.
"We need to leave," Hector agreed. "Is everyone okay?"
Marcia nodded. Her face was cut in several places, and her hair hung unevenly in spots where some of it had been ripped out. Hector had similar cuts and scrapes, but he seemed intact. They walked through the RV to retrieve Anabel. When they opened the bathroom door, Anabel leapt for her mother, holding Marcia tightly. Sandy felt a surge of warmth at seeing the girl unharmed.
"Simon will be back," Sandy said aloud, not wanting to consider the alternative.
"Where can we go that he'll find us?" Marcia asked.
Sandy thought about what Donna had told them. There was a chance they'd find other buildings, but they'd have to roam farther. She hadn't seen anything when they'd pulled into the campground.
"We've probably stirred up every creature for miles. Even if we found another place, Simon might miss us. I'm not sure where we should go," Hector said.
Sandy bit her lip, frustrated. She looked out the windows, but saw nowhere else they could hide.
Then she looked up.
They waited on the roof for an hour for Simon. During that time, the sun beat through the trees overhead and the crows circled, probably waiting for a crack at the dead creatures below. Before climbing up onto the RV's roof, they'd pulled Donna's body into an area of shade. It was the best they could do at that moment.
A few times, meandering creatures stalked through the trees, searching for them. One actually came close enough to poke through the remains of its brethren. Each time Sandy, Hector, Marcia, and Anabel ducked flat, keeping unnoticed. Although the noise had drawn more creatures, the lack of recent gunshots seemed to have worked in their favor.
Sandy knew their luck wouldn't last.
Watching one of the creatures wander out of earshot, Sandy said, "I wonder if they remember what they were."
"If they do, they must be horrified at what their lives have become," Hector said.
Sandy's thoughts returned to Simon. It'd been a long time since she'd heard the sounds of the minivan. Long enough that she didn't want to think about what might've happened to him.
"How long should we wait?" Hector asked, voicing the unspoken question.
Sandy sighed nervously. "I'm not sure. Even if we wanted to leave, we have no way of getting out of here, except on foot."
She wanted to believe that Simon had survived, but the more time that passed, the greater her doubts grew. He'd effectively led the creatures away. He'd saved them. But what if he'd died? She swallowed as she thought back to what Simon had said at the elementary school.
Nobody else should have to die like Finn.
She prayed those words weren't a premonition. A day ago, she never would've believed that Simon would be concerned about their welfare, but he'd proved to be a trusted ally since they'd left the lumberyard. He'd saved Hector and his family. He'd helped them all. She thought back to the conversation she'd shared with him in the utility shed, and the expression of sympathy he'd shown her.
Please let him be alive.
The purr of an engine interrupted her doomed thinking.
"Do you hear that?" Hector asked.
"Yes," Sandy said, sitting up.
They stared into the distance, watching a vehicle approach. The trees masked its shape, but it looked to be the same color as the minivan. It wasn't until she saw Simon driving that Sandy scrambled to her feet, waving. The van raced around the corner and pulled from the gravel onto the dirt road by the RV. The exterior was dented and stained. The driver's window was smashed. Simon looked up at them, attempting a smile before he slumped over against the steering wheel.
Chapter Forty-Four
"Jesus Cristo!" Hector exclaimed as they scrambled down the ladder of the RV.
Sandy reached Simon first. His hands were still on the wheel. He'd managed to put the minivan in park before falling over, but she saw a serious injury on his arm that looked like it'd been wrapped up with a piece of t-shirt. His face was cut and bleeding. His clothing was ripped. On his lap was the rifle she hadn't been able to carry from the minivan. Creatures' remains were spackled to the side of it.
"Simon!" she hissed, frantic that he might've died.
Simon's eyes were half-closed. She tried leaning him back in the seat and talking to him, but he barely responded. Without wanting to, Sandy recalled Harold. Maybe Simon had lost too much blood already.
"I'll get the medical supplies!" Marcia cried, racing to the back of the minivan.
"And some water!" Sandy called after her.
&nbs
p; Hector and Sandy tried to revive the wounded man, with little result.
"Simon, can you hear us?" Sandy asked, peering in at the man.
He groaned.
"Thank God. He's alive. Everything's going to be all right, okay?" Sandy said.
He opened his eyes slightly and nodded. He seemed lucid, but exhausted.
Taking the water from Marcia, Sandy gently undid the piece of t-shirt with which he'd wrapped his injury. Underneath was a bloody stab wound.
"Is this from Reginald?" Sandy surmised.
Simon nodded.
"Is he dead?"
Another nod.
"Help me hold him up, Hector," Sandy requested. There was no time to think about the events that had transpired. Right now she needed to help her friend.
Hector assisted while they gently sat Simon upright and addressed the wound.
"Marcia, would you mind keeping watch for us?"
Marcia nodded and aimed her pistol over the forest. Sandy used water and gauze to clean the wound, then re-bandaged it the best she could. The injury looked painful, but it seemed like he could move his arm. That was a good sign.
In an ideal world, Simon would need stitches, but they didn't have the supplies to do any more that what she did.
"We should go," Hector said nervously, looking around.
"Let's get him in the back seat," Sandy said. "We're going to help you out of the van, okay, Simon?"
"Okay," he croaked.
Hector, Marcia, and Sandy lifted Simon from the front seat, tucking their hands underneath his armpits. They brought him around to the back seat. He walked unsteadily, but made the transition. When they had him inside, Sandy took the driver's seat while Hector rode next to her. Marcia and Anabel stayed in the back with Simon.