by Ryan Colley
“Nice shooting!” I heard Kirsty say.
“Keep moving,” I demanded, and kept going. As I ran by the dead men, I could see pools of blood expanding around their corpses. That was something you never saw with the undead. The blood inside the undead had already begun to dry and rot.
I kept running. Shot several zombies who were getting to close to me. They dropped to the floor like dead weights. I kept running. I rounded a corner, and bullets peppered the container next to me.
“Stay where you are!” someone shouted. I didn’t know if I recognised the voice. I couldn’t think. Had word spread already about my betrayal?
“Uh, why?” I called out to the shooter.
“Goddamn,” he hissed. “Is that you Sam?”
“Yeah, man!” I called back, feigning happiness at hearing the voice.
“Come out, dude. It’s Stephen. I thought you were one of the attackers,” he called back. I turned to look at the girls.
“What do I do?” I whispered to them.
“Just go out there,” Kirsty said. “We can shoot him while he’s distracted.”
“Please don’t hit me,” I whispered. Kirsty nodded. I stepped out.
“What’s happening, man?” I said to Stephen, recognising him the moment I saw his face.
He had veins bulging on his forehead. “I don’t know. The zombies got out somehow. We’re trying to contain–”
A bullet passed through his skull. I felt a pang of sadness when I saw his body hit the floor. Odds are he hadn’t even done anything wrong. Probably didn’t even know about the girls, but he would’ve stopped our escape. He had to be stopped.
“Sam,” Kirsty said calmly. I turned and looked at her. “We need to get going. We can’t just wait around, okay?”
I nodded.
We carried on moving. I felt lost and turned around. I needed to focus, so I breathed deeply and closed my eyes. I could hear gunfire, and I could smell the undead. I opened my eyes and smiled. I recognised where I was.
As we ran between the containers, I killed any undead I found, and we did our best to avoid the living. The girls had no issue shooting either of them. To them, it was necessary revenge. I, on the other hand, had yet to raise my gun to the living. I just couldn’t. I didn’t want to cross that bridge. Besides, the girls were quite content with doing that for me.
Plumes of smoke rose into the air. Where had it come from? The acrid smell of burning flesh. Undead were burning. Fire. That was the last thing we needed. We ran past my old cabin, and it was in flames. I didn’t feel any loss for the place I’d slept. I had discarded all attachment to everything about the place.
More zombies. A few single shots from my SA80 put them down. The smell of burning smoke overpowered the stench of rotting flesh. Two men ran into view. Stopped and stared at me. I pulled up my gun and aimed at them, finger hovering over the trigger. I couldn’t pull it, but they didn’t have the same hesitation, and they opened fire. I dived out of the way. Kirsty fired and took them both out.
“Thanks,” I said to her. She helped me up and nodded. Keep moving.
CHAPTER 48
I could see the North Gate. It had been left wide open. No guards, and no one to watch over it. Fire raging behind me. Gunshots and undead snarls echoed around. It all felt disorientating. None of it mattered, though. We were leaving.
Nothing was ever simple though. Bill crept out from behind a container to my right. He aimed his gun at me. I didn’t have time to raise my gun in response. His finger waited near the trigger. His eyes grew wide as Kirsty and Stephanie rounded the corner into the same encounter. None of us moved. We didn’t want to raise our guns in case Bill shot us in response. But he continued to aim at us. His eyes were wild and kept darting between the two women. I could see an internal battle raging within him. Suddenly, his questions on morality made sense. Then he lowered his gun.
“Go,” he said simply. I walked past and nodded at him. He nodded in return, and then disappeared back into the base. I guess his conscience got the better of him.
I left through the gate and sprinted ahead, the girls shooting any undead nearby. I needed to start the van, so I rounded on the driver’s side door. Is it ajar? I reached for the handle, and it sprung open. I didn’t have time to react before it smashed straight into my face. I fell to the ground, bleeding and broken nose, bloody and split lips.
“Shit,” I groaned. Boss climbed out of the driver’s side, calmly and deliberately.
“Hello, Sam,” he was acting calm, but I could see the bulging veins in his neck and the hate in his eyes. “You’ve really screwed us here.”
“Go die in a ditch, you rapist,” I snarled, the primal part of my brain bleeding into the logical part. My heart pounded and stomach knotted. Every indiscretion started coming back. The killing of Gary. Making a fool of me. Kidnapping the women. He would have to pay.
“I’m just doing what I need to do to keep my men alive and happy,” he shouted before kicking me in the ribs. I couldn’t catch my breath. He snarled, “I don’t like what I have to do. I don’t like these responsibilities. But I have to be the one who does it. It’s not just about me anymore. I need to look after everyone!”
How could he not see that he was in the wrong here? His lack of responsibility fuelled my rage even further. My fists trembled wildly. He was a monster who couldn’t see his transgressions. He was sick.
I tried to push myself to my knees, but Boss kicked me again.
“You’re not going anywhere, you sick bastard,” he growled. I saw his hands shook also. It was then I noticed the gun he held.
He’s going to execute me! Where are the girls? I began cackling. He looked confused by my sudden onslaught of merriment.
“What’s so funny?” he snapped.
“Me? Sick?” I said, still laughing. It ended in a spluttered cough.
“Yes, you,” he snarled. “Look around you. You’ve destroyed our home. Your home. We took you in, and look what you’ve done. How many did you kill? How many of your friends?”
“They aren’t my friends!” I shouted. “You never were. If I knew what you were like at the beginning, I’d have killed you the moment I met you.”
My words appeared to sting him. He took a step back and winced. I used that.
In one swift motion, I climbed to my feet and tackled Boss. He fell to the ground. I assaulted him. Punched him in the ribs, in the throat, in the head. All he could do was block my attack.
My gut felt as though it had a molten ball of hatred weighing me down and scorching my insides. I wasn’t letting this evil scum go. This is how Gary felt in his final moments. I ignored the stray thought and continued. I pummelled him. Boss tried to raise his gun, but I slammed his hand down. He released the handgun. I grabbed it. Aimed it at his head.
“Just do it!” Boss dared me, with a small smile. I stared him in the eyes.
The hate ebbed away. I couldn’t shoot him. He needed to die, but I couldn’t do it. I relaxed, thinking over the moral dilemma. He took that as a sign of weakness and pushed the gun aside and grabbed me by my throat. Shoved me off him and onto my back. Stomped on my hand, pushed it into the ground, and twisted his foot back and forth. I could feel the skin on my hand tearing through the glove. I winced and gritted my teeth.
“I thought we were the same,” Boss stared at me, with sadness in his eyes. “I thought we would run this place, side by side. You’re nothing like me.”
“Thank God for that,” I laughed, manically. He kicked me in the ribs one more time, for good measure. It could only end one of two ways – Boss would kill me, or the girls would save me. I wasn’t a killer.
I sighed. I didn’t have any more fight in me. I was happy to just lie there and be done with it. Fighting was hard. Each hit I received felt like irreversible damage had been done. I could feel bones crack and skin bruise.
Boss straddled me and wrapped his hands around my throat. He didn’t look angry or hateful at that point. He was just doi
ng what he felt needed to be done. I just laid there and tried to accept it, but my survival instincts had different plans.
As my throat seized up and airways closed, my body instinctually began to struggle and try to fight him off. My hands clawed at his throat and face, but it was no help. He just tightened his grip and slammed my head into the ground. I saw stars, but that didn’t stop me from trying to fight back. I started patting the area around me to try and find a weapon. A rock. A twig. Anything. I brought my knees up to try to push him off. No use. I felt something digging into my leg. Grabbed for it and tugged. The fisherman’s knife. I brought it up. My vision was pin-holing. Now or never. I slammed the blade into his ribs. The knife ricocheted off them, but he screamed and relented slightly. I brought the knife back up, slick with his blood, and pushed it into his thigh. He screamed again, and blood began to pump out of him a lot faster. He was getting weaker, clutching at his leg. I shoved him off of me, then pushed the knife to his throat. I stared at him. He wasn’t fighting me. He was smiling. I thought about it. I really did. Slashing his sick throat, that is. But I didn’t. I stood up and walked away. No point in killing him. He would die soon.
I turned around and saw the girls just standing there, staring at me.
“Didn’t fancy helping?” I choked out.
“We were busy,” Kirsty said. They were covered in blood and gore. None of it their own. She looked at Boss squirming on the floor. “Not going to finish him off?”
“No,” I sighed. “He’ll die soon. He needs to suffer.”
“Just do it,” Boss growled.
“Get in the van, you two,” I said. They did so without question.
“You just gonna leave me to die?” Boss said. “Just kill me, or save me. You gotta do one.”
“No, I really don’t,” I walked away, climbed into the van, and started it up.
I felt empty and weary. I retrieved Thundy from my pocket and put him on the dashboard. I looked at Boss in the wing mirror. Zombies were leaving the base and heading towards him. I started up the van and began to pull away. I could hear Boss shouting something. I sighed. Turned the van around until we were facing him.
“Are you–” Kirsty began, eyes wide, mouth agape.
“No. I’m not going to save him,” I said, not allowing her to finish her question.
“Then why?” Kirsty asked.
“We need to watch this,” I said solemnly.
The zombies continued to approach Boss, who was kicking at them and trying to crawl away, but he wasn’t getting anywhere.
“I don’t want too,” Stephanie squirmed in her seat.
“You have to,” I said. I have to. “The world is a bad place. We need to view the consequences of our actions. Otherwise, we’ll act without morality. We can’t act without remorse or guilt. We need to see what’s out there. This is what’s ahead of us.”
No one said anything more.
We sat there and watched the zombies swarm over Boss. He was screaming as they ripped the flesh from him. We waited until they were done. Didn’t take long. Then they began moving towards us. There was nothing left but bones and a bloody smear where Boss had once been. I reversed, turned onto the road, and drove away from the base.
CHAPTER 49
I continued driving. Didn’t even think about where I was going. I just didn’t want to be there anymore. I felt truly lost in the world. Had no real direction, and my actions of the previous twenty-four hours began to dawn on me. The cold distance that adrenaline provided me during those moments had worn off, and the seeds I’d sown had taken root.
I looked at Thundy, who was still on the dashboard. His black eyes held my reflection – something I didn’t want to see. My hands were still sticky from the blood of the man whose death I had contributed to, and I hadn’t given a thought to washing it off. I could feel a darkness growing inside me. A deep rot had set in. A rot which couldn’t be cleaned, and the stench that followed would be as bad as that of the undead. I knew it would affect anyone I came near. But I had no choice. I had to save the women. It was the right thing to do. That wasn’t the problem. The problem wasn’t my actions or the life I had allowed to be taken. It was the enjoyment I gained from it. I would play and replay the slaughter in my head, much like a teenage boy would do of his first sexual encounter. It was a different kind of pleasure, though. A sick, twisted pleasure. One of power and vengeance.
Justice had been done, but it still scared me. The undead were hard enough to kill. Killing a once-life tormented me emotionally for days when I’d first done it. Now, that was no longer a problem. I knew I technically didn’t end his life, but I did put him in a situation to die. Stuck a blade in him. Most importantly, I didn’t save him. I enjoyed his death.
I wasn’t so naïve to think that I would survive without having to end a life. It was an inevitability of survival. I just hoped it wouldn’t have happened so soon. I didn’t want to kill another human, but I knew it would happen again. Just didn’t know when. One thing was certain – it would be easier next time. It had to be.
I looked to my left and saw the two women clutching each other. They sat, huddled together on the passenger seat. Kirsty was stroking Stephanie’s face, trying to calm her. She was clearly the stronger of the two. It was good they had each other, because I wasn’t emotionally fit to provide them with any form of comfort. And with what they had been through, I doubted they would want another man to even go near them. After all, I probably seemed just as psychotic as the men they had escaped from. I had to be as brutal as I was to get us out of there. The same images of some ancient god of war from before came to mind. Was that how they saw me? I doubted it. A heartless and remorseless bastard was probably closer to the truth.
Wild and depressing thoughts were running rampant.
But you did save them, Thundy said to me. At first I thought it was mocking. Then I realised it was comforting me. That was true. I had saved them. I had dragged them out of a hell. Whether I was leading them into another had yet to be seen. I would just face that when it came. For now, I had saved them. They were alive because of me.
“I will protect them,” I said to Thundy. The women looked at me wearily, and I realised I had said it aloud. I said it again, to the women this time. “I swear I will protect you both. On my head be it.”
They relaxed slightly. I’m sure they believed my intent, and I believed I meant it. We were all lost and alone in this world, but at least we had each other now. I had people to protect. It wasn’t all about me anymore. I managed a smile. Tomorrow seemed more hopeful, and that was all we could ask for. Just one more day. We continued heading north, without a word. Driving into the sunset – a symbolic end to a terrible day.
****
“What the hell was that?” I jumped out of my attempt at sleep. There had been a metallic bang, as if something had struck the van, but there were no undead around.
“It came from the back,” Kirsty whispered. She didn’t appear to have even attempted sleep. I got out of the van.
We were all exhausted. We had driven far enough that the burning and the smoke of the container site was just a dot on the horizon, and then we drove further. I walked around the van once and saw nothing. Then I realised it had come from within the van. I crept silently to the back doors, where our supplies were. My vision had adjusted to the night, and the moon gave enough light to see by. The silence allowed me to hear the slightest of movement from inside the van.
Kirsty followed closely, clutching a wrench, ready to strike. She approached the doors. I pointed my handgun toward the door. I signalled for Kirsty to open the door on three.
One …
Two …
She snatched the door open, and I jammed the barrel of my gun into the van.
Inside laid a man, cold and shivering. His muscular, tattooed arms were wrapped around himself, partially covered by a dustsheet. He looked terrified, but his huge and menacing physique cancelled that out. I couldn’t see who he was, so I g
rabbed what little hair he had and twisted his head to one side while jamming the barrel of my gun against the underside of his chin. I still couldn’t tell who he was. Kirsty looked at me, unsure of what to do.
I pulled him out into the moonlight and grabbed him by the chin, twisting his face into the light. I realised that I knew him from the camp, and smirked. I pushed the gun even harder against the soft flesh of his throat, and snarled, “Now, what shall we do with you?”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I always enjoyed reading fictional worlds, but creating my own was always my passion. My Year 8 English teacher told me I should pursue writing after a short story I had written for a school project.
Things changed and life moved on, but even while I was graduating from my Bachelor’s and Master’s in Psychology, I still wrote stories and I still loved doing it. Writing is my passion, and everything else I do is a means for me to carry on with that passion.
I’m also prepared to move to a secure location at a zombie’s notice …
If you’ve gotten this far, please leave me a review and message me. I love hearing what people think!
Website:
www.AmongTheDead.co.uk
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Email me:
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