by Coke, Justin
"She's right. They're marching like it’s a fucking parade," Pete said to the men, who had gathered behind the U-Haul.
"What the fuck?" John said. The other men grunted in agreement.
"I don't know. They don't know we're here. They aren't acting agitated. I'm going to get closer."
"For fucks sake, why? Let's get the fuck out of here before they see us," John said.
"Because I've never heard of them doing anything like that. There has to be a good reason for it."
"Fuck the reason, there's too many."
"The whole reason we're out here is to gather intelligence. Give me the Nikon."
"Pete, man, come on. Snap some shots from here and then let's get the fuck out. We're a day away from home!" John pleaded.
Pete shook his head. "Exactly why we need to know."
John paused. The men took it as a point scored, and the issue was settled. They seemed to know what the drill was, and half went to the driver's seat and half stood in the beds with binoculars and bows. They started backing the trucks up, and were soon around the bend. Janet realized she was still standing there with Pete, who was fiddling with the camera.
He turned and saw her. "A volunteer! Just stay quiet and watch my back while I snap pictures. The lens on this thing is spectacular, so we won't get too close."
Janet gulped. She'd had no intention of volunteering for anything, but she was trapped now, unless she wanted to look like a complete coward. So she nodded and followed him as he set out on foot, rifle still slung across her back.
She realized he was making a crescent loop around the marching line, so that the zombies were never quite out of sight. They kept behind hills as much as possible, with Pete working his way to lie at the top of a hill with a pair of binoculars. She crouched at the bottom of the hill, rifle resting against her knees as she scanned for movement. John had given her a suppressor he had made out of PVC pipe and spray painted a mottle green and black. It was big enough to ruin the iron sights, so he had also given her a laser sight that stuck out from the base of the little telescopic sight. She had almost no idea what she was doing with the thing, but they hadn't had the time or the ammunition to let her get in some target practice. She chastised herself for being here; not only was she useless but she was a danger to Pete too. But then he knew better than most how useless she was, and he seemed happy she had 'volunteered.' She guessed two pairs of eyes was better than one.
They had been moving for an hour without a zombie in sight when Pete settled down on the fourth or fifth hill. He scanned with his binoculars, when he said "What in the fuck?" in an unbelieving tone. He kept watching for a long time, then gestured down to Janet. "Come up here. Stay very low," Pete said.
She crawled up the hill. Pete gestured that she should look through the binoculars that he held. She did, and in the scene she saw a thing... a horrible thing. It stood tall on thin gray legs, and its mottled and disfigured head bounced up and down like it was nodding. On its hands were long black claws, like daggers. It stood at the edge of a pit, and the line of zombies they had seen ended at its feet. With one hand it was grabbing their head and pulling the chin up. With the other hand it jabbed its claw into its eye, then let the corpse fall into the pit.
No, she realized. It wasn't at the edge of the pit. It was in the pit. And it was standing on bodies. The pit was the size of a football field, and it was half full. The thing just kept stabbing, and the zombies quietly and peacefully accepted their fate.
"Look to your left," Pete whispered. She turned the binoculars. Black mounds, the same size of the pit, surrounded the Herder. At first she thought the mounds were black earth, but a breeze made the mounds rustle. They were leaves. She didn't quite have the words to describe them, but they made her sick to her stomach.
Pete took the binocular away and plugged a wire into the iPad, then screwed it to the binocular. The scene she had seen appeared on the iPad. He was recording. He scanned the whole scene, concentrating on the thing, which was still going about its business. After he had gotten what he wanted, he gestured for her to go down. He crawled back down.
Janet was terrified, and confused. She didn't understand what any of it meant. What was that thing? What was it doing? What were those black things growing from the ground? Pete was pale as well. He held his nose with his hand, and seemed lost in thought.
She realized that nobody had been watching their backs for a good twenty minutes. They had been too absorbed in the scene above. She twitched her rifle up and scanned. Nothing.
After a while, Pete looked up, grim. "We keep going. We've got another three hours of daylight, enough to move a bit further and get back before sunset."
Janet was taken aback. She had just assumed they would go back immediately.
"Shouldn't we go back? They need to know what is going on," Janet stammered. She wanted to go back.
"Who knows what else is going on over there. Command will need as much intelligence as they can get. This is totally unprecedented." Pete yanked a radio from his backpack.
"Pete, Recon. Come in."
"Roger. Signal 5," Janet thought it was John, but she couldn't be sure.
"Found some Grade 5 activity." He rattled off a string of coordinates. "Per Orders, relay immediately to command. Going to gather more intel, expect to be back by sunset. Over."
"Roger. What activity? Over."
"Too weird to explain on this channel. Make it clear to command this is only a grade 5 because they don't have a grade 6. Very weird shit. Saw one Jungle Snake conducting. Zed playing first chair. Over."
"Roger Wilco. Play it safe. Over."
"Roger. Pete out." He flicked off the radio and stuffed it back in the bag. He stuck a flash drive into an adapter. He fiddled with the iPad for a minute, then gave her the stick.
"Janet, if we get separated, head towards the sun. It will get you to the highway. They are around mile marker 68, so head that way. Give them this," Pete said with a gravity she'd never seen before. "It's incredibly important they get this."
Janet nodded. While she was at a total loss at explaining what she had seen, she knew it wasn't good for the human race. She stuffed it in her inner jacket pocket, and zipped it.
"Now, follow me. If you see any zombies, get me if you can. I know you aren't the best shot with it, and if it hasn't spotted us let me take the shot. Be very careful. We're about to do something very stupid." Pete stood and started moving. She followed him down the bank of a dried up creek. Soon they were at another hill. As Pete crawled up, the moan of a zombie sensing prey rang out. Janet twirled as Pete cursed, looking for the source, but it was coming from above her. Hidden behind the leaves of the tree was a zombie. She could see it move, but not much more. She moved closer, looking for the shot, and soon she was at the base of the tree. The zombie was missing all of its limbs, and it was tied to the tree with cheap rope. It wiggled its stubs and snapped at her. Its shriveled eyes somehow still worked. Pete ran to her side.
"Fuck. Fuck. Run. Run. We're blown." He started jogging.
"I'm so sorry," Janet sobbed. She felt responsible for not seeing it.
"I didn't see it either. They wouldn’t put a sentinel up if there wasn't going to be something to come check on it. Run." He kept jogging, not even slowing down. If she didn't want to lose him she'd have to go. So she did. Soon she forgot to worry about blaming herself. She was too worried about breathing through her nose and catching up to Pete. She was twenty feet back from Pete when the thing appeared. This was different from anything else she had seen; it was an oval shaped insect the size of a golden retriever. One of its claws was huge, almost the size of the rest of the body. It opened the claws and snapped it on empty air. The sound was so loud it made Janet scream. Pete dropped like a rock, and the thing jumped on his limp back. Her ears felt like they were bleeding, and she felt like she'd been punched in the face. She knew she didn't have time to get her legs under her. Her view was blocked, but she just knew that the thing was abo
ut to bite Pete with its foul fangs. She brought her gun up as she fell prone, and as soon as the little red dot shone off its black carapace she pulled the trigger. With the suppressor the gun sounded like someone dropping a coin on concrete. The thing didn't even slow down until she put another round into its side, then it skittered to face her with shocking speed. It had blank and milky eyes, and its mouth was made of three parts; two bulky triangular chunks and a fleshy tube. It brought its gigantic claw up, and started cocking it back open. It moved in jerks as it opened, like it was being slowly ratcheted into position. She put the red dot on one fleshy eye and pulled the trigger. The eye exploded in chunks of wet flesh, like cottage cheese. It staggered back, off of Pete's back. Another shot. She was sure it was good but she didn't see a wound. Third shot, and a hole appeared in its shell. Brown goo oozed out. Another shot, another hole. It tried to skitter away, and she started pulling the trigger, barely aiming, just hoping to hurt it as much as possible. Some of her shots landed home, and it moved slower and slower as she emptied her magazine, and her shots became more accurate. She ran out of bullets and watched it try to scrabble away, using its huge claw to kluge its way forward until it lacked the strength to lift even that. She switched magazines, and sprinted to Pete. He was unconscious, but his heartbeat was firm.
She couldn't wait. She grabbed his torso and lifted him above her soldiers. He was a light man, maybe a hundred and fifty pounds. It hurt her badly, but she could lift him. She began trudging, making a circle around the still twitching monster. The butt of her rifle banged on her knees but she kept going. Going towards the sun, like he said.
The strain was terrible. Her shoulders ached, and with each step her lower back got worse. It already felt like it was made of hot glass that was dying for the chance to shatter, and each step made it worse. Her legs quivered, and her calves burned. Her heartbeat edged up and up, until she was drenched in sweat. Every step felt like the last one, but she kept telling herself she would quit after that tree, and then when she got to that tree, she picked another one. She'd gotten half a mile or more before the debate intensified. Pete would have wanted her to get that flash drive back at all costs. She kept picturing what was chasing them, and how fast it must be moving. She was already surprised they hadn't found them yet. But she couldn't just prop him up against a tree and go either. One more tree, she thought, and I'll leave him. Then the next tree. The sun was low when Pete's head lifted.
"What happened?" he slurred.
"This... giant spider tick thing was in that tree. It knocked you out with this really loud bang it made with its claw," she said between gasps.
"What?" He sounded out of it.
"You're hurt. I'm carrying you."
"Oh," he said, and puked all over her. She didn't even mind because it reminded her to put him down.
"Sorry," Pete said.
"Don't worry about it. Can you get up? They are after us."
"Yeah, ok," he gulped. He got out a canteen and washed out his mouth, then drank half the contents. He got up to his feet clumsily, and fell back. But he stabilized himself and looked around. She pointed towards the sun. He nodded, and started shambling a lot like a zombie would toward the goal.
She pulled the radio out of his pack and flicked it on.
"This is Janet," she said. There was a long pause.
"John. What's wrong?" the voice said. She remembered all that military gibberish from the last radio conversation. She'd seen enough movies to imitate it, she thought.
"Pete is hurt. Probably concussed. We're headed back to the highway, probably got God knows how many zed after us. Be ready to drive the instant we get back," she said. "Over."
"Roger. Pete ok? Over."
"He's walking. Still really out of it. Over."
"Do you know where you're at? Over."
"No. Still a couple of miles from the highway I think. Had a bad hour, couldn't really tell you what direction except mostly west. Over."
"Roger. If you find any landmarks let us know. We'll come to you. Over."
"Ok. Over. Out. Will call back when I can," she said.
"Roger. Good luck," John said.
They kept trudging, and as they went Pete's pace got a bit faster and a bit faster. They found a trail, just a foot of bare dirt that went the right way, and they followed it. Without the sound of snow and wet leaves, she could detect the guttural barks and moans of excited zombies. They were behind them, and not far enough for her tastes. Pete must have heard it too, because he went faster than ever. Soon she lost control of her breathing trying to keep up. Pete glanced back and slowed down.
"Feeling a bit better. Got a motherfucker of a headache and I want all the water, but much better. We're very close to the highway. Give me the radio," Pete said. The glaze had left his eyes. She handed the radio over. He kept it turned off and turned to run, but at a little slower pace. Her breathing leveled off, and she knew she could keep this pace for long enough. The moans faded, but soon the sounds of something coming through the woods like an angry bear could be heard. She had forgotten Pete's rifle when he had been knocked out, so he pulled his .45. She brought her rifle up.
"It's probably that gawky fucker with the claws, so watch out. I have no idea what it's capable of. Get behind a tree and have your rifle ready," Pete whispered. He hid behind a rock in front of her.
Shaking, she stood behind the tree. It burst from behind a tree. It was the thing that had been killing the zombies. It looked at her with the strangest blue eyes. The eyes would have been beautiful in any other face, but this–its face bulged in the wrong places and caved in at all the wrong places. It looked like the Elephant Man. It had marble white skin with blue varicose veins snaking through its face like rivers on a map. It opened its mouth, which was full of sharp shards of teeth, like a shark that had bitten a manhole cover, and screamed. The roar of the zombie's response was faint, but noticeable. Janet had stood transfixed by its eyes until that scream, and she pulled the trigger. The little .22 worked well against zombies; just enough force to penetrate and bounce around the skull. It didn't seem to bother this thing. The shot went in one of its fleshy bulges, and no blood came from the tiny hole. It charged, eyes locked on hers. It was so fast she only managed to get one more shot in before it was on her.
That was when Pete stepped out, pistol at arm’s length. The thing only had time to glance at Pete before the .45 barked. The .22 might not have been enough, but the .45 was just right. The shot was from three feet, and the back of the monsters skull sprayed across the trail and snow. Its blood was black. It dropped in a heap. Pete put another round through its chest, then picked it up in a fireman's carry. Janet gaped, as if he were crazy.
"Intel," he shouted as he ran. The long claws on the thing’s dangling arms seeming to stick out of his back like the fantail of a terrifying bird. She went after him. The moaning was louder now; much louder. There were a lot of them, she could tell.
It only took a few minutes to get to the highway. They were at marker 71. Pete was on the radio before she could despair. Three more miles!
"Mayday Mayday Mayday. At marker 71. Get the fuck here now. Over."
"Roger wilco."
"Let's go." He dropped behind a bush on the other side of the highway. "We'll be coming back this way. If we can get it we get it. If not, not." He took out the iPad and took a few hurried photos of it. Then they started running again. She had a side stitch from her belly button to her eyeball, but she started running again.
They saw the trucks after two minutes roaring towards them at 80 miles per hour. She stopped running, both out of relief and exhaustion. She just stood there and breathed until they got there, and with one last sprint she was in the truck. She wanted to cry. Pete got in beside her. She noted with jealousy that he only had a light sweat.
"Stop at marker 71 if we can. I got a specimen," Pete said. The fucker wasn't even winded, Janet thought.
"What the fuck happened?" John said.
"I'll show
you, but we got an unknown quantity of zombies heading for that exact spot, so hustle," Pete said. John grunted and gunned it. Soon they were at ninety miles per hour, and in only a minute or two they were back at marker 71. Dozens of zombies were at the base of the trees, about to start the climb up the hill that lead to the highway. Pete cursed.
"Stop the truck," Pete said.
"Like hell!" John replied.
"I can get it before they get up. Stop the truck. Command will have your ass in front of a court martial if you don't."
"Fuck," John said as he slammed the brake. Janet could hear the other truck's wheels screaming as they hit the brakes at this unexpected stop. Pete was out before they came to a stop, sprinted to the bush and grabbed the corpse by its neck. As he sprinted back its limbs bounced and skittered against the pavement. He hurled the corpse into the bed of the truck and was back in a flash. The first zombie up the hill watched them peel out with its mouth hanging open. It had barely made the shoulder of the highway when the last truck zipped past.
"What is that thing?" John queried.
"No idea," Pete said.
"Then why did we need it?" John asked.
"You should be more curious," Pete said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Trisomy
One thing to keep in mind about zombies is that they have no body heat. They are room temperature all the time. So if there's one in that house or one hundred, a thermal detector isn't going to tell you.
When I had recovered from the hangover from the post-bombing party, I went out to check on my decoys. I was so cocky I went out on my own.
The first decoy was there, still cuffed and moaning. The second was fine. The third was lying down on its back, not moving. I got closer. Still not responding. I threw a rock at it. No response. I got closer. Had someone come along and shot it? I was starting to hope maybe they weren't as immortal as we thought. There was no visible wound, so I got closer. Had the dumb thing broken its own neck somehow? I grabbed its hair and lifted to see the back of its head. It turned over in an instant, and grabbed my arm and went in for a chew. It got so close to my arm. In that moment I was sure I was going to die.