by Emma Shortt
…
Jackson didn’t even think before she opened the door. Her hand grabbed the handle, pulled and pushed, and then her feet were hitting the road, Mandy in hand.
“Jack, what the fuck?”
She heard Luke’s hissing voice, of course she did, but the only thing she could think about was the small child running in front of her. Four yards, five—she needed to move, and quickly.
The road was almost melting in the heat, making the air undulate oddly and Jackson’s heart went out to the child who had no doubt baked half to death on it. No parent would leave a child out alone in this weather. The girl was there for an entirely different reason. One that screamed danger.
But she was just a girl, and Jackson could not leave her.
She pulled her gun from her waistband as she sped up, so that both of her hands were weaponed up. Part of her wondered if that would scare the child, a ridiculous thought considering. God knew what the child had seen.
The child in question swerved as she headed not for the front door like Jackson had expected, but toward the garage. Even as she ran, Jackson’s heart gave a horrible lurch. Spaces that had not been prechecked were bad news in so many ways, especially in this heat. But she couldn’t leave the girl, damn it. She was human, and a child. Just a little girl. It was ridiculously impossible that she was even alive!
“Wait,” Jackson shouted, then regretted it immediately when her voice rang out in the silence—only her own rapid heartbeat a counter point to it.
The little girl turned slightly and shook her head, making her braids fly about, and then she crouched down and slipped under the half-open garage door.
“Fuck.”
She heard Luke’s footsteps behind her, about the moment she skidded to a halt.
“Jack…” Luke hissed, grasping her arm. “What the hell are you doing?”
“We need to get her out.”
“It’s a trap!”
Jackson bit down on her lip and took a deep breath. Her heart was racing and sweat was already gathering along her back. She needed water. No doubt the child did too. The child had been waiting in the street, the heat baking her poor little body. How long had she sat out there waiting to lure someone in?
She sighed and gripped Mandy tighter. “I know, Luke.”
He growled, his eyes darting everywhere. “Then what are you doing? You can’t go in there.”
Despite the fact she knew it was an ambush, Jackson knew too that without a doubt she could not leave the child. Something was screaming hard at her and she had no choice but to listen to it. “I will not leave the girl here.”
“I know it’s totally fucked-up,” Luke said, “but Jack, you go in there, you get eaten. You know it, I know it.”
“Get eaten?” She shook her head at the words and then gasped. “You think…the zombies…”
Luke started. “Who else?”
“I thought people.”
“No, Jack,” he said quickly. “It’s them. I can feel it.”
His words made vomit rise and Jackson almost gagged. The idea of a houseful of feral survivors was bad enough, but the idea of one of the dead braiding the little girl’s hair, pus dripping, skin flicking off, was infinitely worse.
“But the girl—”
He growled again. “I’ll do it. I’d have told you that if you’d have waited. Stay here. Now,” he said, and then before Jackson could even stop him, Luke ran around her, sprinted across the sidewalk, bent down, and shimmied under the garage.
Her heart gave a horrible lurch and for one moment dizziness hit. Jackson gripped harder on both weapons to gain her equilibrium, before she ran after them. Her foot slipped as she hit the space where the parched lawn met the concrete, and Jackson looked down. What she saw there made her breath catch in the back of her throat.
A hole. A deep hole. Just like the one at Creepyville.
Head spinning she jumped over it, ran up the path, and toward the garage. The smell hit the moment she got close. Mold and ammonia, and oh God…she turned to look at the house…the windows did not have any fucking glass in. The same feeling slithered down her spine as it had all those weeks ago, and Jackson’s chest heaved as she bent down and entered the garage.
Her adrenaline peaked to the point of implosion when she spotted Luke and the girl. They were in the corner of the room, Luke pulling the girl into his arms. Jackson swallowed down the lump in her throat and looked around. She’d expected to be confronted with something, other people, a pack, but there was nothing, not even the usual odds and ends such a garage would hold.
“We have to get out of here,” she stammered. “Right fucking now.”
“I told you to wait. Jesus Christ, Jack.”
“Right now, Luke.”
She ran over to them and grabbed the girl from Luke, right into her arms. Up close she could see that she wasn’t eight or nine like she’d first thought. The distance changed her perspective and Jackson knew now that she was six at most. Her small, mud-covered body quivered in Jackson’s embrace. Her eyes wide and terrified.
“It’s okay,” Jackson reassured, running back to the door. “We’re leaving.”
The child let out a small moan and wrapped her free arm around Jackson’s neck. The weight of her little body was negligible but it sent a deeply maternal thrum through Jackson. She’d always loved children, always imagined having a big family. Of course that would never happen now. So don’t think about it.
“You’re safe,” she said, swallowing the lump in her throat. “We’re gonna get you out of here.”
The little girl shifted so that her lips were now level with Jackson’s ear and her breath was oddly cold, shivering along her skin.
“They’re coming,” she whispered. “The monsters.”
And in that moment Jackson knew with a horrible certainty that Luke had been right. That the trap was not one designed by humans at all but by zombies.
Chapter Twenty-four
As soon as he heard the kid’s whispered words, Luke crouched down and looked under the door. What he saw was enough to make him feel sick. A quick count and he was about ready to check right on out. He lifted and turned to Jackson, their eyes met, and that was enough.
“How many?” she whispered.
Déjà vu hit and Luke’s head pounded. It was always “how many,” or “how close,” or “where are they?” Would they ever get any peace? Couldn’t the damn things leave them alone for more than a week?
“Luke?” Jackson prompted, and he made a concerted effort to get himself under control.
“At least fifteen.”
He checked the garage door and was unsurprised to see that it had been jammed in place, jammed just enough for a person to fit through—like a fucking burrow. No way at all to loosen it, no way to shut it.
“Too many.”
Sweat was snaking its way down his back now and the grip on his weapon was moist.
“Three packs?”
“Yeah. At least.”
The girl buried her face in Jackson’s chest. Small sobs erupted from her. With Mandy in her hand, holding the girl, Luke was struck forcibly by the image. Despite the weaponry, and the impossibility of the situation, it had an almost Madonna feel to it. Jackson did not know the child, yet she was willing to risk it all to save her.
But I can’t save her. I can’t save either of them.
Panic shot through him and impotent dread held him in its clutch.
“Let’s be glad it’s not a horde,” Jackson whispered.
But in the end it made no difference. A horde, fifteen? Any more than one pack was too much in this situation, and Jackson knew it just as well as he did. And there was another difference now, one that couldn’t be ignored. Before it had only ever been about him, grabbing what he needed, killing the dead, and making his way back to the bunker. Now it was all about Jackson. Keeping her safe, and now, by default, the child, too. From here on in she would be their responsibility—for who else could possibly
step up to the plate?
But how? Luke bent down again and eyed the dead through the gap in the door. They were fanned out in a loose arc—their usual hunting technique—their mottled gray legs lined up in all directions. As usual, some were naked, some clothed in months-old material. He could see wounds on the limbs of some. Those strange wounds, created perhaps because their skin was so thin and so easily broken. How many times had he had to flick the stuff off his own clothes? The wounds were, as always, dripping pus. It stuck to their bodies and the stench was disgusting even from where he stood. The smell of death and mold. Like heated garbage.
How he hated it. How he hated them.
“Ideas?” Jackson whispered.
Luke shook his head slowly and signaled them to move farther back into the garage. He needed a moment to think.
He heard Jackson shush the girl, her words soft and comforting, and his mind swiveled in about a million different directions. What to do? His heart pounded so heavily that combined with the heat, he felt light-headed. He was reminded irresistibly of the moment in the bunker when he’d set out to help whoever was attracting the zombies. The start of all this really. The start of him and Jackson.
He shot a look at the two females huddled against the wall, Jackson’s stance protective, her eyes darting from him to the child. Her pixie hair was fanning around her head in little spikes. He’d promised her a haircut soon. She did not like it getting long, fearing the dead would use it to grab a hold of her. Sweat was beading along her brow and down her chest and he swallowed down the lump that threatened. They’d eat her quickly, that was something to be thankful for. She was so thin it wouldn’t take long at all. And the child? She too would be eaten in no time. They wouldn’t suffer.
The child. It really was the perfect trap, he thought. Maybe that was why it had clicked so quickly with him. A child as bait, who the hell wouldn’t stop to save her? And the zombies knew it. They’d really become that clever. How the hell had they gotten a hold of her? And how long had they had her? How had they communicated with her? He couldn’t wrap his mind around it all and the horrific image of one of the dead holding the little girl’s hand filled him, making him swallow down the bitter bile.
He had to find a way to save them all. Fucking hell he had to. He couldn’t just give it up. Think, he told himself. Think it through. Their access to the car was completely blocked, though that was his fault more than anything on the part of the dead. But it was too far away to make a run for and there was no way they could run from that many waking dead on foot. No way out of the garage except through the locked door.
The door.
Luke nodded slowly and walked backward to Jackson, his gun trained on the gap in front. “What type of lock is it?” he whispered.
Jackson knew what he meant immediately. “Nothing fancy. We can easily break it.”
“In and through then? Out the back door and we can go back around to the car?”
“We can try.”
He ignored the note in her voice. The one that said she didn’t hold out much hope but would give it a go. “Don’t you worry, Jack. I got this.”
She laughed softly. “You’ve always got it, baby.”
Because so often he didn’t, her words meant so much.
“Put her down. You can’t fight and carry her.”
“No. It’s safer with her in my arms, and if it comes to a fight against that many, we’re pretty much fucked anyhow. I won’t risk them getting her.”
He nodded. “Okay then. I’m gonna break the lock and there’s no doubt they’re gonna hear. So we need to be quick. I’ll break and cover. You go through. Head for the back door, then circle around. I’ll be right behind you.”
“You make sure you are,” she said, reaching out to him. “I mean it, Luke. Don’t be a hero.”
He nodded and wrapped an arm around her, and the kid. Gave them one swift hug. It wasn’t enough. Not at all. He wanted to enclose her in his arms properly and squeeze her until they both ached. To lose her already…to lose everything when they were so close to the goal. Luke could barely comprehend it. But things were not looking good. He knew they weren’t. If they survived this, it would be a miracle and already in his head he was plotting the best way to ensure Jackson’s survival. If he had to sacrifice himself, he knew he was ready to do it. It was like he’d almost promised himself the moment they’d first kissed. He just hadn’t known it then, and besides, when it came right down to it, he knew that he’d had a damn good run. The fact that they had gotten this far? Two years and then some after the end of the world? Yeah, he’d done good. What more could a man ask for than that?
“Ready?”
Jackson hefted the girl, hooked Mandy into her waistband, and lifted her Glock. “Yeah I’m ready.”
Luke lifted his own gun ready to smash the lock, his eyes finding Jackson’s—a message arcing between the two of them, promising something neither knew if they’d ever be able to give again. One quick swing and—
An explosion rocked the room, enormous in its size, the sound of it filling everything. The entire structure shook, bits of plaster and stone raining down. Without even thinking, Luke crouched down, protecting Jackson and the little girl with his body. Thuds sounded against the garage door. A ringing filled his ears and he staggered onto his knees. “What the fuck?”
A dead limb rolled under the open garage door, followed by another and then…rain?
“Jack—”
She shook her head, eyes wide, and they both turned to see liquid dripping onto the floor from the door. Even through the dust and plaster they knew what it was. Pus and blood. The thuds on the door were zombie bodies.
Jackson heaved the girl, stood and ran forward. “Come on!”
Luke followed immediately, looking for a space where they wouldn’t be showered with zombie fluid, and together they slipped under the space, choking on the dust and grime around them.
“Jesus…”
The sight that greeted them as the dust cleared was enough for Luke’s jaw to drop. He wasn’t even sure what he’d expected, even if he’d had time to think it through. He just looked and he reeled and eventually a feeling of deep, and completely unfamiliar, relief filled him.
Because the bodies now standing in front of him did not belong to the dead. They were people.
PART TWO
“When the impossible becomes the possible it takes time to believe it, for some more than others.”
Luke Granger
Chapter Twenty-five
Texas
There had to be at least twenty people, men and women, and shock held Jackson still as she looked from one to the other. Were they army? Their outfits suggested as much. They were all cammoed up, dripping in weapons and such, and they were hench. She saw that immediately by the fact they were busy beheading the zombies. Not in an angry fashion but systematic. One after the other, after the other. Until nothing remained.
Jackson’s heart slowed its frantic beat with each swing of a weapon. Yes, she was still amped up, still feeling the despair that had settled across her in the garage, but now it was joined by something else. Shock, disbelief, relief? She didn’t know, couldn’t even pause long enough to work it out.
Her eyes zeroed in on one of the soldier-type people and watched as he shot a smile at the woman next to him and then high-fived her. Their spirits were up, the camaraderie obvious, and it shocked Jackson to see it. It’d had been so long since she’d witnessed people just being silly. The zombies had put a stop to anything like that, or at least she’d thought they had.
“Did we get all of them?” someone asked.
“Yep, all dead.”
“Reckon they might stay dead this time, the bastards?”
Laughter echoed around the space and unsure what to do, not to mention slightly off-balance by the riot of emotions running through her and the amount of people right in front of her, Jackson edged closer to Luke. Her grip on the girl tightened, and she was pleased to feel
Luke’s arm enclose them both.
“What should we…?” Her voice trailed off as a large man shot through the crowd. He had to be well over six and a half feet and he was built like a linebacker. He too was dressed in full camo gear and had the biggest gun Jackson had ever seen. In an odd way he reminded her of Tye. He was out of breath, had clearly been running, and sweat beaded across his forehead. He certainly wasn’t the only one sweating. Jackson could feel her vest damp against her back.
His gun arm dropped the moment he set eyes on them and to Jackson’s surprise he choked off a cry. “Sammy?”
The girl’s head whipped around and she let out a squeal before wiggling her way out of Jackson’s grip. “Daddy!”
The girl ran to him and was enveloped in his arms. Everything made sense to Jackson then. The trap the zombies had set up, the fact she and Luke were still alive. It was all so clear, and ever so slightly horrifying.
“Survivors,” she whispered. “The zombies were trying to trap these survivors. We just got in the way.”
“I knew it,” Luke replied, his breath tickling her neck. “I could feel it.”
Everyone turned to look at them then, their whispered voices drawing the attention. Twenty-odd gazes went from Sammy and her dad and then back to Jackson and Luke again.
“Feeling the nerves here,” Jackson whispered.
Luke laughed softly in her ear. “Nothing to be nervous about, babe.”
Sammy’s dad stepped forward, the girl clutched in his arms, a grin creasing his face, relief so obvious in his eyes. “Can’t even begin to thank you people enough. Can’t even believe she’s here. Thank you, thank you so much.”
Jackson shrugged, slightly embarrassed to be the center of attention though the embarrassment went some way to overriding the other, nastier emotions.
“No thanks necessary.”
“I thought…” The man squeezed his daughter to him and shook his head. “Well you can imagine what I thought when I saw the pus in her bedroom.”