I felt Hendrix’s chuckle rumble through his body. Apparently, he wasn’t as concerned with dying as I was.
“I’m going to tell you soon,” he warned.
“You’re not allowed to tell me until it can be special,” I lectured “I mean it, Hendrix. I want flowers and candy and a love song! Everything else has been taken away from me. If you’re going to confess some craziness, I want to be able to forget the world we live in makes that impossible.”
“Flowers and candy?” He sounded legitimately shocked.
But I wasn’t backing down. I had given up everything in light of these bastards surrounding me. If I was going to be told someone loved me, I wanted to be able to feel every ounce of devotion and depth he was confessing with.
And I couldn’t do that strapped head to toe with firearms and ammo.
“And I better be clean, too!” I added quickly. Greasy hair and bloody clothes were just not going to do.
Was I being high maintenance? Absolutely. But this morning I’d almost died. Right now, I was pretty close to dying. And the only thing I’d eaten today had been a fourth cup of cold, slimy black beans from a can and a Slim Jim. I was allowed to be a little high maintenance once every two years.
Plus, there was the whole thing about me not knowing if I was ready to hear that from Hendrix. Or feel it. Or face the consequences of what it would mean to be in love with him.
Apparently he seemed to sense my inner freak-out because he changed the subject.
“How’s your ammo?” Hendrix asked over the cacophony of sounds.
“I mean, there could be more of it,” I quipped. Why it was so important that I keep my sense of humor in the most dyer times I had no idea, but it felt almost critical. At the end of my life, my list of priorities whittled down to being funny and hating that I was about to die with dirty underwear on.
My tomb-stone would read: Here lies Reagan Willow, hilarious to the end. For her sake, let’s hope cleanliness is not next to godliness.
My clip clicked empty and I cursed a fowl word I’d never actually said out loud before. I reached blindly behind me while Hendrix covered me and pulled out another handgun from his pack.
Realizing one gun wasn’t going to last long, I grabbed two more, shoving one into my pocket and the other I held in my left hand and pointed in the air, grasping it tightly from the trigger. My left hand closed around my right so that I could still have support, while the two guns pressed against each other. I wasn’t going to get caught losing another gun. This seemed easier then tucking it away somewhere.
Clicking off the safety, I started shooting before I was completely turned around again, but this smaller gun wasn’t nearly as powerful as the rifle. I needed to be even more precise, and more accurate with my shots since the clip wasn’t going to last me as long.
Still it was better than nothing.
I held my weakening arms out straight and forced my mind off my pounding head and trembling arms. My vision narrowed further and I focused on the small, almost miniscule sight.
I swear I was developing a sixth sense, because even while I stared only through the tiny sight, I had a strong sense of what was going on beyond that tunneled vision. My body and gun-arm swung back and forth finding the biggest threats and taking them down.
I could rarely get a solid kill with just one shot, but it was always extra exciting when I did- kind of like a hole in one from the eighteen.
Ok, I didn’t know anything about golf, but I felt like Tiger Woods on the final whole of the Master’s.
Uh, without the whole sex scandal thing.
“Cover me!” Hendrix shouted.
Like I was busy doing anything other than covering him. But still, I did what he asked.
Or more of what he asked while he threw his assault rifle on the ground and dug out two handguns for himself.
Without Hendrix’s rapid fire, bullet-happy gun, the Zombies were able to make progress, closing in on us until every shot had to be a hole in one, until every time I fired the gun I needed a kill shot.
They were just five feet away. Their broken, exposed jaws were chomping and salivating with the scent of us filling their nostrils. At the same time we gagged on the smell of them filling the air around us.
Their numbers had dwindled to maybe sixty? Maybe a few less than that. Between Hendrix, Nelson, Harrison and now me, we were making a serious dent in the sheer army they came out in.
But it took one Feeder to end a life. Sixty would decimate us, even if our odds were getting better.
Finally the rumble of the van could be heard nearby and a wash of relief rushed through me so strong I stumbled forward from it. I caught myself just in time when Hendrix started to stagger with me.
We went back to shooting, but he asked, “You alright?”
“I hear the van,” I called back.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
And then the van was there- careening through the crowd in front of me, knocking bodies out of the way and running over anything in its path. It screeched to a halt when the body count beneath its bloody tires became too much for it to move.
I tore my attention from saving my own life to inspecting the van, but the only body still inside was Vaughan’s. I didn’t have time or mental capacity to wonder where everyone else was. I was just thankful Vaughan was here- with more guns and ammo.
I turned my attention to the ground and started picking off those that could reach my feet- wounded from the van, but not dead. And as long as they could bite, they could still kill- or turn.
When my first gun emptied, I threw it on the ground and immediately went back at it with the second. The safety was the first priority, but with a simple flick of my finger, I was ending life after life as they crawled after me.
Vaughan threw his body from the van just as the Feeders he blocked from us appeared on top of it, desperate to get to us. He came up armed and dangerous. I swear before his feet even hit the ground, he was firing shots at every threat surrounding us.
We immediately formed a triangle of protection with our backs facing each other. This was working- kind of- but the Zombies were closing in on us and we had maybe five more minutes of ammo and humanity left.
Vaughan started spitting out instructions, like we knew he would. “We’re going to have to run.”
“Where is everyone else?” Hendrix asked.
“Waiting,” he said simply.
“What about the van?” I asked on a desperate whine. That was actually a vehicle we all fit in. Not to mention it had been in good condition when we picked it up.
Now it was a little worse for wear- what with the broken windows, smashed in top and bodies sticking out from every tire.
“Reagan,” Vaughan shouted in a come-on-are-you-kidding-me kind of way.
But he didn’t understand! Well, Ok, he probably understood.
It was hard to lose another vehicle. They became like friends or family members when they offered such vital services. They saved our lives; they made traveling easy and safer. They smelled better than the rest of the world.
Most of the time.
I was traveling with six boys after all- seven if you counted Kane, which I did not- and we didn’t exactly have daily access to showers.
“I’ll cover you two,” Vaughan ordered. “Make us a path and take off. Head straight. Follow the tire highway until you reach the first road on your left.”
“Shit,” Hendrix cursed.
I didn’t even have it in me to say anything. This was another terrible plan! We couldn’t run forever, but the Feeders could. They didn’t get tired or worn out. They didn’t feel pain or exhaustion. All they knew was the consuming need for flesh and they would do anything to get to us.
Still, there wasn’t exactly another option.
Hendrix and I turned simultaneously to my right side and started blowing off the heads of everything standing in our way. Forty five seconds passed and we took off running. There was just a small gap as the r
est of the pack closed in on Vaughan.
I worried I wouldn’t be as fast as the boys, but the adrenaline was so fast and furious in my blood by the time we took off sprinting with Vaughan immediately by my side, I was keeping up with them pretty good.
My hands were trembling and my lungs were burning but I pushed my feet as hard as they could go.
I had never been much of a runner. I was more a Pilates kind of girl, especially with cheerleading as my main focus. I didn’t need to be in shape, I just wanted thighs that looked decent in a short skirt and something like a flat stomach and non-flabby arms.
The last two years had toned my body more than any amount of half an hour class at the gym, but it wasn’t like I got a lot of cardio. Ok, maybe the occasional save-my-life sprint, but marathon training had been pushed indefinitely.
As we covered all the ground separating us from our group, I forced my body into submission.
The highway was flat for the most part and evenly paved, but my feet still occasionally stumbled, especially the more exhausted I grew. Hendrix was always there to catch me. His strong arm would swoop under mine before I could fully face-plant and he would right me into standing.
We ran for what felt like forever- at least two miles of road.
My breathing was actually painful and my legs and feet felt numb. I clutched the guns in my sweaty palms and felt on the verge of collapsing. I didn’t think it was exactly the distance that was causing me so much pain. But we were sprinting this! It was one thing to run two miles.
It was an entirely other thing to run for your life for two miles.
But the Feeders were still behind us. We could hear them. They weren’t close enough to grab us, but they were an unforgettable presence that pushed us on.
They were incredibly fast for the state their bodies were in, but what was left of their bodies wasn’t exactly top form. Their bones were weakened and a lot of their body already missing.
Still they pursued us.
Still they posed the worst kind of threat.
The access road appeared up ahead and our energy renewed. Pushed to get to the rest of the group and the possibility of more protection and more ammo, our strength was renewed.
We took a wide turn and pounded our feet even harder against the ground.
This road was gravel and not nearly as nice to run on as the highway, but it didn’t matter. Our pace didn’t slow and our determination didn’t weaken.
A building was ahead of us, three stories high and completely cement with barely any windows. There was a fifteen feet high cement wall surrounding the entire facility as well, save for a gated entrance.
“There,” Vaughan panted.
“Why didn’t we see this before?” I gasped with a wheezing voice.
“I saw it before,” Vaughan confirmed. “But we weren’t planning to stop this early in the day.”
I nodded because I wasn’t capable of responding verbally.
With Haley and everyone else so close I was somehow able to pick up my pace and push for a strong finish. We turned down the short drive to what I could now tell was a storage facility. I still couldn’t see anyone else as we pushed through the creaking iron gates. I vaguely noted that the gates had been padlocked at one point and were now cut.
We had a fence cutter in the van from Tulsa. Was that ours? Or was this cut from someone else?
I didn’t really have the energy to investigate those thoughts, so I pushed them aside.
All three of us stumbled through into the gravel courtyard and came to an abrupt stop.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire.
Everyone- Haley, Tyler, Page, Harrison, King, Nelson and Kane who looked seconds from passing out- knelt on the ground in front of us with their hands behind their heads. Surrounding them were six armed guards pointing heavy weapons at their kneeling bodies.
“Holy shit!” I finally found the ability to cuss.
“On your knees!” One of the gun-holders shouted in a thick southern accent. He was dressed in head to toe black with a black bandana rolled and tied around his short blond hair. He was wearing aviators so I couldn’t make out his eyes, but his gun pointed at my head did enough expression speaking for him. “Get on your knees!”
“There’s a horde of Feeders behind us!” Vaughan yelled back, not at all intimidated by the men with guns, even if they were pointed at his family.
I supposed it wouldn’t matter though. If the Zombies caught up to us, it would be better to die by gunfire than bite.
Two of the guys with guns took of sprinting toward the gate. One produced a chain with padlock from around his neck. Together they wrapped it quickly around the iron gates and locked it. Then one after the other they used a ladder, resting against the tall wall to climb to the top of it.
“Get on your knees!” the first man yelled, pulling my attention away from the men on the wall.
Hell, no.
As if we shared the same brain, Hendrix, Vaughan and I lifted our guns and pointed them with equal menace at the four men left standing over our loved ones.
“Not on your life,” Vaughan growled out.
“Get on the goddamn ground!” the man shouted and shoved the barrel of his gun into the back of Haley’s head.
I bit down on my bottom lip until it was bleeding into my mouth. I wasn’t going to say anything and Haley was way too stubborn to give him the satisfaction of something as ridiculous as whimpering. The man seemed to take in Haley’s resolute response though and come to a sick, twisted decision.
Moving his gun from Haley’s head to Pages, he looked back up at us with cocky satisfaction. “Now will you get on the ground?”
It was the mother-f-ing laugh that had me launching myself at him. “You son of a bitch!” I screamed, forgetting the gun in my hand in place of my fists.
Hendrix caught me around the waist before I could do any damage and gently lowered me to the ground. He followed me quickly, throwing his guns off to the side in a livid display of frustration.
Vaughan was the last to obey. His body was so still and calm, a tremor of fear skittered over my spine. Still Vaughan was dangerous- even more so like this.
Page sniffled when tears started falling from her eyes. I gazed over at her, desperate to catch her attention and give her some hope and assurance, but she just stared at her brothers. I got the strong impression she was hardly concerned for her own safety at all. Her eyes flickered between Vaughan and Hendrix with a mature concern that was well beyond her years.
Gun shots popping in the air made us all jump. They were coming from the wall. The two men were taking out the horde that apparently made it here in one piece, or several pieces….
The man with the gun to Page’s head stepped back in favor of keeping his weapon aimed at us collectively.
I felt naked without my own guns- vulnerable and exposed. I hated it.
After twenty minutes of sitting like that, my knees were raw from digging into the sharp gravel, my feet were completely asleep, my neck ached with a sharp pain and my arms trembled with the effort to stay aloft. The pain in my head was making me sick, but I couldn’t think about that right now. We were all pretty much in the same shape, but apparently the men with guns weren’t going to attempt to speak to us until the Zombies beyond the wall were all dead.
Eventually, and just when I was convinced I couldn’t stay like that any longer, the gunfire slowed and then stopped. My breathing was pained and my chest shaking with a sob I refused to spill.
I had no idea what to expect from this new threat, but a bitterness was welling up inside of me. I felt on the verge of complete and utter destruction. I honestly didn’t think I could take another hit.
Feet hitting the ground behind me signaled the two gun men getting down from the wall. They walked over slowly- casually- with each pair of feet crunching in the gravel.
“You here to take over?” the first man asked Vaughan.
“Take over what?” Vaughan bit out
with a voice as rough as the ground we were kneeling on.
“My settlement.”
“We just wanted a little bit of shelter from the storm,” Vaughan answered while sprinkles continued to drop from the storm-heavy clouds above.
“You brought that storm to my front door,” the man accused darkly not at all talking about the weather. “How do I know you’re not part of it?”
“We are just trying to travel, man,” Vaughan was at least attempting to be diplomatic, although I could tell what a struggle it was for him to be cordial. “We ran into the road block down the highway and fought our way out. We temporarily lost a man, which was why I dropped off the rest of our group before I went back. I didn’t know there was anyone here. I didn’t know this was a settlement. I just wanted to keep my people safe.”
“Where’s your van?” The man seemed to settle a little bit. His shoulders relaxed and he pulled his gun back.
“Causality of war, brother.”
“That’s too bad,” the man ground out. “That was a nice ride.”
I thought Vaughan would be surprised the man seemed to have been watching him while he dropped of his brothers and everyone else, but he just said, “Filled with all our shit, too,”
The man grunted in response. “Are you part of another settlement?”
“No,” Vaughan answered with conviction. “Just travelers.”
“You’re family?”
“Some of us.”
“This guy?” The man pointed his gun at Kane. “Is this guy some family?”
“No.” Vaughan’s conviction turned into vehemence. “We picked him up in Tulsa. Saved him from a very bad end.”
“What about you, Tyler?” the man addressed Tyler directly and I felt my head cock back in shock. “You his family?”
“Gage, have you had your fun, you sick bastard? Let us up,” she hissed.
“First, tell me what you’re doing here,” apparently Gage demanded.
I shared a what-the-hell look with Hendrix. “He told you,” she tilted her head toward Vaughan. “We’re on our way out of here. We ran into some trouble. We didn’t know this place was occupied, and we really didn’t know it was yours.”
Love & Decay (Season 1): Episode 9 Page 6