by Joe McKinney
“He’s injured. I’m not. You can pull me up once we get Jase to safety.” Before I had a chance to think about how dumb the idea was, I shimmied down, holding onto the edge until I had to let go. The drop sent shockwaves up my shins, but I landed without twisting anything.
“Godammit, Cash,” Clutch said from above.
I also heard a small pounding behind me. I turned to see children watching us through a classroom window. They were young, one of the earlier grades, and they were no longer alive. They watched us hungrily, smacking their small hands against the glass.
I hooked my fingers together to make a step. “Climb up, and be quick about it.”
Jase didn’t argue. With a grunt, he stepped into my cupped hands with his good leg. I lifted his weight as high as I could, using my legs. Clutch reached down from the roof. It wasn’t quite enough. Jase stepped onto my shoulder, and then his weight vanished. I looked up to see his legs disappear onto the roof.
Clutch reappeared an instant later. “Now get your ass up here, Cash.”
I jogged around the playground, looking for a jump rope but finding only rubber balls and jungle gyms. I fidgeted with the padlock at the gate, but I had nothing to pick the lock with, not that I even knew how to pick a lock. I tried to jump up to grab the top of the privacy fence, but it was too high. With a sigh, I looked at the windows, each filled with hungry, hollow little faces.
“Is there any rope in the truck?” I asked.
Clutch thought for a moment. “I’ve got tie straps.” He moved. “I’ll come down, and you can go grab them.”
I held up my hand. “No. Then you’ll be stuck down here. Go for the truck.”
Glass shattered, and I jerked around to find a teacher stepping through the now-broken window. I pulled out my new machete. “Get Jase to the truck. I’ll catch up.”
“We’re not leaving,” Clutch yelled back.
I swung the machete, nearly decapitating a teacher with its hands and forearms covered with little bites. “Go. Hurry!” I wasn’t used to the blade, so my aim was off. The second swing killed it. Small zeds tumbled out of the window. A gunshot rang out. A boy in jeans and a sports jersey dropped. Another shot. A girl with pigtails dropped. Several more shots and the rest of the zed kids dropped. The ones still held inside were pounding harder on the glass now, in a frenzy to get out.
I looked up at Clutch to find him reloading. “The shots will draw more zeds to the school,” I yelled up. “Take Jase and get to the truck before the parking lot fills up.”
“No,” Clutch replied.
I watched him. More glass behind me shattered. “I won’t let you die for me.” After a quick glance at the newcomers, I went for the only door that I knew would be unlocked.
“Cash!”
I pushed open the glass door with my left hand, and swung the machete at the first zed with my right. The kid went right down. The hallway was not nearly as congested as the classrooms, which I noticed nearly all had their doors closed.
I jogged down the hallway, shoving zed kids out of my way, thankful for the thick gloves and jacket I’d worn. A zed could bite through it eventually, but at least it’d have to work at it.
I turned the corner into the main hallway and froze. A couple dozen three- and four-foot tall zeds with three adult zeds turned to face me. One growled, and the groans began. They lurched forward.
I spun around to backtrack, but the hall had filled in behind me as well, with a zed wearing a tag reading HALL MONITOR leading the group. I lunged for the double door to my left and jumped inside. After making sure the door was shut tight, I spun on my heel.
“Fuck me.”
I’d found the school cafeteria. Food trays were scattered across the floors. The buffet line had been ravaged. Several bodies, with most of their skin and muscle gone, were sprawled on the floor, covered in writhing maggots. And now, the large room was full of food-stained, bloodied zeds, and every single one of the bastards were focused on me.
They staggered toward me with outreached arms, and I jumped up onto a table, then onto the next table, sliding through spaghetti sauce that I knew wasn’t really spaghetti sauce.
I slid the machete in my belt and leapt, grabbing the fluorescent light hanging from the ceiling. Surprisingly, it held. Miraculously, my adrenaline helped me pull myself up, safely out of reach of the small arms. But larger arms connected to zeds in lunch lady uniforms reached perilously close.
“I’m not going to die,” I muttered and punched up at the ceiling. The white panel moved, and I realized this was one of those drop-down ceilings that allowed space for wiring and cables.
Gripping the metal frame, I swung and kicked up, knocking out another white panel, catching my foot on the frame. Using the strength of my legs, I was able to pull myself up and above the frame.
A sea of jaundiced dead faces looked up at me, growling, reaching, and chomping. I moved carefully and slowly onto the next frame, careful to distribute my weight over two rows of metal framing. I had no idea how much weight these ceilings were meant to hold, but they sure as hell couldn’t have been built for human travel.
I crawled over one panel to the next, pausing every few panels to catch my breath. My directions were jumbled in the darkness. I had no idea if I was heading toward the parking lot, back to the playground, or if I was going in circles. I lifted the edge of the panel to find that I was still in the cafeteria. Zeds stood under the opening I’d made in the ceiling in the opposite side of the room, still looking up, sniffing the air, reaching, mouths opening and closing like baby birds.
A crack of light filtered in through the corner I’d lifted and lit up the wall of concrete blocks in front of me. Shit. The ceiling ended where the wall separated the cafeteria from the hallway. My arms and legs were already shaking. I had to figure out something or else I’d fall right down into the cafeteria again. Except this time, I’d never have the strength to get back up here.
But there was nothing up here except space, wiring, and…air ducts. My attention shot to the large duct leading straight through the center of the cafeteria and through the concrete wall. Many smaller ducts ran off it like a spider’s legs. Ducts looked so much bigger in the movies, but I prayed that this one would be big enough. It had to be.
I made my way toward the metal duct. Sweat burned my eyes and tickled my neck as rivulets ran down to soak my shirt. By the time I reached the duct, I was exhausted and clumsy, nearly tumbling off the ceiling grid twice. I moved alongside the duct until I found where one section ended and another began. Both were held together by screws. I pulled out my tanto and used the tip to unscrew the first screw, and then the next. It was a painfully slow process to take out the six screws on the sides I could reach.
I pushed against the duct but it didn’t budge. Trading my knife for the axe, I pulled back a few measly inches and swung. The metal clanged and dented, echoed by moaning and shuffling below. A couple dozen hits later, the duct broke open. I slid the axe inside and shoved myself through. Sharp metal from the axe’s damage dug into me, but I continued to squeeze into the tiny boxed-in darkness until I filled up the area of the duct.
I sneezed in the dust-laden air, causing the zeds below to echo with moans. Using my elbows, I pulled myself forward. I could see nothing except light filtered in from vents every eight feet or so.
At each vent, I paused and looked down. The hallway was filled with shoulder-to-shoulder zeds sniffing the air. When the duct split into three pathways, I decided to head left over the hallway, hoping it would bring me to the front doors. I followed the duct, through several more intersections.
I sobbed out in exhausted frustration. My cramped muscles burned. My helmet clanged against the metal, but there was no space to take it off and leave it behind. When I finally reached a vent where I could see the front doors, I rested my head against the vent and nearly cried.
The glass doors were blocked by zeds.
Biting back a whimper, I backed up about ten feet until I came to an inte
rsection and I took the first right. This duct led to a room with a couple office-style desks. It wasn’t a classroom, which gave me some hope.
Seeing no movement below, I fidgeted with the vent until I figured out how to remove it, and it dropped, landing on the floor with an echoing clang. Something moaned, and a shadow moved. A female, wearing khakis and a blue blouse with dark stains, stepped on the vent and looked around.
“Can’t I get a break?” I muttered.
Moving slowly, I reached out of the duct with the axe. The zed looked up right as I swung. The axe caught it in the forehead, and it tumbled back, taking the axe with it.
I grabbed my machete and waited for another one, but none came. I breathed in and out and waited. Dropping down feet first into a room with possible zeds was not my idea of a good time.
Careful to not bang my helmet on the metal, I lowered my head out of the vent to scan the room. It was an office with two desks and glass walls. The principal’s office was just on the other side of the glass wall to the right, and it was still occupied by a zed in a tailored skirt suit. She rocked on her feet, looking out the window.
The other glass walls faced two angles of the hallway, giving full views of the zed near the front doors. At least both doors were closed, but I had no idea if they were locked or would hold back the weight of zeds pushing against them.
I’d be in a fishbowl the moment I dropped.
Like the principal’s office, the fourth wall had a nice wide window overlooking the school parking lot. I could make out only one zed, and it was trapped inside a car. Maybe the zeds who’d escaped the Home Depot had followed Clutch’s truck when he left with Jase.
God, I hated maybes.
Unless the window was heavily tinted, the sun had nearly set, which meant I’d been crawling around this place for at least eight hours. I wasn’t the least bit surprised, not with how exhausted and thirsty I was. I even wondered if I’d be able to stand once I got out of this duct. My stomach had quit growling hours ago. My throat was parched, and my clothes were soaked.
I pulled my head back in, and shimmied forward over the opening so that I could back up and drop feet first into the room. I would’ve preferred to go head first to see around, but the opening was too tight, and there would be nothing to grab onto to keep me from breaking my neck from the drop.
After sliding the machete back into my belt, I squeezed through as quietly and motionlessly as I could to not draw attention. About halfway through, I heard a pounding on the glass. I shoved myself through the rest of the way, and I finally popped through, dropping onto the floor.
The moment I landed, every zed, including the principal, clambered to get to me. Putting a foot on the dead zed’s chest, I grabbed the axe handle and yanked it free. I ran to the window, swung the axe, and the glass shattered apart. The hallway door behind me cracked. I saw a handbag under the desk. I grabbed it and jumped on the desk and through the window.
I had no time to barricade the window, and I started running through the parking lot. Clutch’s truck was long gone, which I’d expected. They would’ve been idiots to wait around to get overtaken by zeds for the slightest chance that I’d survived.
Three zeds came out from around a minivan in front of me. I stopped, dropped the purse, and pulled out my Glock. Three shots. Three went down.
Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I ran to the car where I’d seen the zeds and ducked behind the trunk. I dumped out the contents of the large purple purse, and sifted through the pile of crap that had tumbled out until I found the one thing I needed. Coming up on a knee, I held up the car key, and hit the unlock button. Lights flashed and chirped on a car parked near the front door.
Five zeds had already emerged through the broken glass window. It wouldn’t take long for the parking lot to be flooded. With the Glock in one hand, the key ring dangling off my pinky, and the axe in another, I ran toward the car.
The zeds staggered toward me, but I was faster. With a cursory look through the car’s windows, I yanked open the car door and climbed inside.
Dropping the axe on the passenger seat and the gun on my lap, I slid the key into the ignition. The engine started with pop music blaring from the speakers, and I shoved the gear into reverse. The car barreled over the zeds coming around behind and struggled as it dragged itself over the bodies.
I needed a tank. I got a fucking Prius.
Zeds stumbled at the car, and I swung the car around, shifted gears, and peeled out. I took off my helmet and threw it onto the seat next to me and turned off the CD player before picking up speed. I barreled right down Main Street, taking out another four zeds on my way through. The Prius was no truck and one of the zeds clung onto the hood for several blocks before I finally managed to throw him off.
The compact car wasn’t made for demolition, but I was counting on its gas mileage. It showed a near-empty tank of gas (who the hell drives on an empty tank?), but being a Prius, the computer indicated it had plenty to get me back to the farm. I sped straight back through town the way we’d come this morning, and nearly ran into a Humvee at the second detour. It was full of people, including the couple I’d seen this morning.
The blond guy manning the .30 cal machine gun on top waved me down. He might’ve been a soldier, or he might’ve been friends with the bastard raiders from earlier. I stepped on the gas, and the tires actually squealed as I sped away.
The Humvee followed for several blocks before slowing and breaking away. I checked the rearview mirror all the way back to the farm to make sure I wasn’t followed. When I reached the lane, I found the gate closed but unlocked, and I frowned.
This wasn’t like Clutch. He never made mistakes like this.
I didn’t have the strength, but somehow I managed to slide the gate open and then closed and locked it. As I drove down the lane, I scanned the trees for raiders and zeds, but my eyes could barely focus. My body was way past its limits. I prayed that the farm was still safe because I wasn’t sure I could defend it.
When I pulled into view of the house, I cried out with relief. Clutch stood at the truck, holding two rifles and a shitload of ammo. He set everything down. “Cash!” he yelled, jogging toward me.
I got out of the Prius, and stumbled to my knees. Adrenaline had abandoned me, leaving me utterly without strength. But then Clutch was there, picking me up.
“You’re safe now,” he murmured as he carried me into the house.
Sighing, I rested my head against his chest and listened to his steady breathing. I laid my hand over his pounding heart. It felt good to feel something alive again. I’d killed children today. Even though they were zeds, they still wore the guise of innocence. And still, I found killing was easy.
It’s the living with yourself afterward that’s tough.
GREED
The Fourth Circle of Hell
Chapter 7
Exhaustion claimed me, and I sank deeper into Clutch’s safe arms.
Saying nothing, he carried me into the house and rather than bringing me to the sofa where I’d slept since Jase came to live here, he carried me upstairs.
“Cash! We were so freaking worried!” Jase yelled out through the open door of his bedroom.
Without pausing at Jase’s room, Clutch carried me straight into his bedroom. I barely stayed awake while he helped me out of my sweat- and dust-drenched layers, leaving me in only my sports bra and underwear.
He left, returning moments later with wet washcloths. He ran the cloths gently over my skin, likely checking me for bites and injuries more than cleaning me, but I didn’t care. His touch felt good.
Finished, he helped me crawl under the blankets of his king-sized bed, and tucked them around me. I groaned at the protective comfort of the blankets and pulled them tighter to me. “So good to be home.”
Clutch grunted before disappearing again, and the next thing I knew he was nudging me awake. I grumbled as he lifted my head up and held a glass of water to my lips. My hands wrapped around his
fingers on the glass while I clumsily slurped at the contents. The cool water drenched the dust and debris lodged in my raw throat and I coughed. Once I could breathe again, I gulped down the rest. He wiped water from my chin before he lowered my head back to the pillow and stepped away.
At the door he paused. “I never should’ve left you behind,” he said, his voice a rough whisper.
I shook my head. “I made you go.”
“No. You didn’t.” Then he walked away, closing the door behind him, leaving behind only silence.
“Clutch,” I called out with a cough, but he never returned. At first I fought to stay awake so I could talk some sense into him, but all too quickly I surrendered to a dreamless sleep.
I slept through most of the next day, though I remember Clutch checking on me several times. Each time, his calloused hand brushed across my forehead and he made me drink water before letting me doze off again. One time, he wouldn’t leave until I’d eaten a protein bar. I grumbled, he grumbled, and I ate it. Then I fell back asleep.
Nightmares of children that were no longer children yanked me back to consciousness. Luckily, instead of the moans of zeds, I came awake to the sound of stacking plates and the smell of warm food.
Every muscle in my body griped when I climbed out of bed. After a full-body stretch, I forced myself through fifty sit-ups and fifty push-ups to get my blood pumping. My body hated me for it, but I pushed through it. Finished, I headed across the hall to the bedroom I’d given up to Jase when he moved in, and grabbed fresh clothes from a drawer I’d kept in the dresser.
Without power, we had no water pressure for a shower the three of us shared. I sighed in relief when I found four buckets of clean water waiting next to the tub. I poured them into the tub, stripped, and settled into the biting cold water, trying to scrub away the memories from yesterday, with little success.
Not having warm water tended to speed up the cleaning process. Shivering, I jogged down the steps to find Clutch cooking dinner on the tabletop propane grill we’d moved into the kitchen after the power went out. He gave me a small nod before turning his attention back to the food. I grabbed a spoon and reached into the pot, but he grabbed my wrist. “Nuh-uh. You have to wait like the rest of us.”