The Zombies: Volumes One to Six Box Set

by Macaulay C. Hunter

  The dog attacked, lunging forward suddenly and sinking her teeth into the flesh of the man’s shin. The girl looked over in fear as the screaming Shepherd tried to wrest his leg away. Bleu Cheese refused to let go and he raised his arm to club her with the gun.

  “No!” Corbin shouted. He dove at the guy and knocked the gun away. It fell into the street as the girl ran for her house, calling for her mother (his mom, God, his mom was dead) and Corbin leaped after it. The gun landed on the edge of a storm gutter and he kicked it inside.

  “Let go! Let go!” the Shepherd howled as he fell to the sidewalk, but Bleu Cheese only reworked her grip in a new place higher on his leg. Screaming for her to come, Corbin sprinted south. Then the dog was at his side, her leash flapping and blood in her drool.

  At Sumner he turned and ran north in the direction of the high school. He wasn’t going to try for the classroom, it left him open too long and that Shepherd was no doubt calling the others this very second . . . the streets fell away and he passed the bike path, approaching the school where he ran off the sidewalk and to the pool. Between the bike path and the high fence around the pool was a ravine and thick foliage. It was always dark there, the canopy too thick to let in much light and the bushes so tall that those on the bike path could not see far through it.

  Cutting into the bushes, he crouched down. Bleu Cheese settled at his side and panted hard with her head pressed to the ground. He whispered, “Good dog, good dog.” Too tired to wag, she closed her eyes with her chest rising and falling fast.

  So close, yet so far. They knew he was in the vicinity of the high school. If they caught him in Mr. Tran’s room, they’d shoot his teacher for being a sympathizer. Corbin needed a new plan. Nothing could happen until nightfall. His choices were Blue Hill and Penger, equally distant from this point. Salmon Park was north but that was a wickedly long walk, and only one road connected that city to Cloudy Valley.

  Or he stayed here, sneaked out at night to a pay phone. Where the hell was there a pay phone any more? Only gas stations. The Royal Fuel gas station had two by their parking spaces. He didn’t have any coins, but he could exchange his paper money for some. If the cashier wouldn’t let him, then Corbin could call collect. He’d never done that before. Hopefully it wasn’t hard.

  A rustling sound alarmed him, but it was only Bleu Cheese. Walking wearily down the ravine, she drank from a pool of mucky water there. Corbin was thirsty, but not enough to drink that. She shouldn’t drink it either with all of the chemicals probably in it. When darkness fell, he’d go up to the high school first and use the water fountain.

  His throat cried out, wanting water now. He ignored it and watched the road through his hiding place. Kids shouted on the bike path, their bicycles click-clacking as they rolled by. They didn’t see Corbin in there, and he couldn’t see them. Swerving at the end of the bike path, they pedaled up to the high school.

  He didn’t have any Zyllevir. Good for a week, the pill he had swallowed last night, but he’d have to get his grandparents to drive him to a Mr. Foods as soon as possible.

  Sirens. The sound was east, and remained over there. A black van caught his attention, driving slowly up Sumner. The front windows were tinted, and there were no windows at all in the back. That was where they planned to put him, in the back of that van to be taken somewhere. The van traveled up to the high school while the kids on bikes rode back down, Corbin creeping around to see the van turn into the bus loop.

  Bleu Cheese snuffled a wet nose along his elbow. He put his arm around her, hissing shh-shh and listening to slamming doors. They were going to search the school for him. The dog pressed against his side. Wind shook the trees.

  It was not safe to be here. It was not safer anywhere else.

  Sunset was a little after six, and it must be about four now. He had no phone. There was nothing to do but wait. And weep.

  I love you, Mom.

  Elania

  She hadn’t gotten in.

  It was the only piece of mail in the box, a crisp white envelope addressed to her with PEWTER written in script on the return address. Elania pulled it out with a plunging sensation in her stomach. The letter was featherlight. Ironic that that was the weight of rejection. She didn’t even want to open it, to read the diplomatic no on the single sheet inside. From an Internet search over the weekend, she knew exactly what letters like this said. They regretted to inform her. There had been so many qualified candidates. It was too bad that they couldn’t have taken everyone. She would be an asset to some other school. They wished her well.

  It just meant no. Life didn’t always give you what you wanted, and sometimes, not getting what you wanted led to what you truly did. She believed that, yet it was hard to hold onto right now at the most raw point of a rebuff. To spend so much time dreaming . . . but it was not the end of the world.

  It was though, in a way. If she had just landed A’s in those math classes, joined more organizations, served as her class president, scored higher on her boards, outrun the bullet, this might be a manila envelope packed with welcomes and information about the school. They had gauged the worth of Rachel Elania Douglas and found her wanting. She had their answer, and now she had to live with it. She hadn’t wanted them anyway.

  But yes, she had. Even so.

  Standing on the porch, she closed her eyes and died a little inside. The dream might have died in January with the tour, but it resurrected some with the call from the dean of students. Since then, it lived or perished with her mood. With this letter, she had to bury it one last time, nail the coffin shut, shovel the dirt, and move on. Feel the hurt but not become it, and find her path somewhere else. Any day, her acceptances to other schools would come. She should go on their websites tonight and imagine herself in those places. Her fingers trembled on the flap of the envelope as she peeled it open and withdrew the folded page.

  Dear Ms. Douglas,

  Congratulations! We are pleased to inform you of your admission to the freshman class of Pewter College for the fall semester-

  The air punched from her lungs, she read through the first lines a second time with her mouth hanging open. She had gotten in. After the third read-through, she looked to the scrawl in blue ink along the bottom. From no less than Dean Marconi herself, it stated that Sombra C students under ten percent were allowed to reside in single rooms of the dorms and eat in the dining hall if they did not wish to live in Sombra C housing. While separate seating remained in the classrooms, gloves and masks were not mandatory. A packet full of information about the school’s updated Sombra C policy, as well as the regular information for all incoming students, was on its way. At the bottom, Dean Marconi had written: I hope to see you in August!

  Elania had been accepted.

  She screamed and read the page a fourth time, thinking that she must have read it wrong. This was an acceptance letter to one of the best schools in the United States! Not only that, but she could live in the dorms . . . not share a room like the other incoming freshmen, but still, the dorms, eat in the dining hall like everyone else, be a part of regular college life. And she was going to set up a group for Sombra Cs and allies, tell her story to everyone who’d listen, educate them so that by the time she walked out of that school with her diploma, no one would see her as anything or anyone other than herself. She was whole.

  She had to call her parents, but both were in after-school meetings expected to run late. Fumbling at her phone with shaking fingers to text them, she heard someone screaming her name. Zaley was sprinting down the road. Having no idea why Zaley was there yet thrilled to share this news, Elania held the letter high and felt on top of the world. “I got in!” This was the most glorious moment of her life. As Zaley neared with terror in her face, Elania said, “What’s wrong?”

  “They’re coming, they’re coming for you!” Zaley said frantically. Elania’s keys were in the lock, which she’d undone before checking the mailbox. Zaley threw herself against the door and yanked Elania inside. �
��Pack!”

  “Pack what?” Elania said in confusion.

  Zaley’s chest was heaving like she’d run all the way from her house. Upending Elania’s backpack there on the floor of the entryway, Zaley pulled her to her bedroom. “Clothes, food, water! They’re coming, they’ve set up a confinement point and they’re picking up everyone-”

  “Who?”

  “The Shepherds! Elania, I heard it right out of my father’s mouth, he smashed up my phone so I couldn’t call.” Zaley pushed her to the dresser and ran out. The front door was slammed and locked.

  Feet scurried to the kitchen as Elania jammed the acceptance letter into the bottom of her backpack and piled clothes on top of it. This wasn’t real, couldn’t be real, although she had never seen Zaley like this. Shoving in scarves atop underwear and socks, she carried her backpack to the kitchen. Zaley had one of the boys’ old Super Robo-Man water bottles under the running faucet. Water slicked down the side of the plastic as she closed it. Elania stood there, watching in shock at the panicked movements. Picking up a second water bottle already filled, Zaley pushed them over the counter and shouted, “Move! Get food!”

  There were three tired apples and a grapefruit in the fruit basket, which Elania loaded in around her clothes. Zaley jerked open the refrigerator and pulled out string cheese and pepperoni slices. One of the cheeses fell from her right hand. She shoved them across the counter and went to the pantry. A bag of corn chips, Dad’s energy bars, packets of almonds, a box of the triplets’ nasty Fruit Slicks, everything flew over the tiles and Elania shoved them in. Zaley burst out of the pantry and swung off her backpack to jam what wouldn’t fit into hers.

  Hearing a car hit the driveway, Elania startled. It was too early, far too early, to be her parents. She slipped around the table to the window and peeked through the curtains. It was a black van coming to a halt. The doors opened, and a pair of men in Shepherd’s vests stepped down to the ground.

  Then it was real.

  The curtains fell back as she swerved around the table, banging it with her hip. Yanking the zipper closed, she swung the backpack over her shoulders and ran after Zaley down the hallway to the back door. The doorbell rang, playing Hava Nagila since the boys thought it was funny.

  The back door was made of glass and locked at the top, Zaley pulling fruitlessly at the handle and Elania pushing her aside to unlatch it. Her fingers slipped on it and she pinched viciously. Then the door slid over and they pushed out into the backyard. By habit, Elania turned and slid the door back. Glass shattered from the front of the house. It had to be the window by the front door so they could reach in for the knob.

  “How do we get out?” Zaley whispered.

  The backyard was a fortress to keep the boys contained, high fences and the gate to the front locked from the other side. They had discovered a way out in time since that was what her brothers did, and Elania was entrusted with the secret. She sprinted over the grass to the far end of the yard. Leaping the old sandbox, she turned to go behind the garage. The wall separating their property from the neighbor’s on the other side was made of concrete, lined with brick, and topped with a hard plastic barrier. By carefully scaling the old building materials and junk packed in the slim channel between the wall and the garage, one could step to the bricks and swing a leg over the yellow barrier. There was no way to do it quietly, and the boards groaned as Elania stepped upon them.

  From the boards to the wading pool tipped to its side, and she reached up a hand to hold onto the roof of the garage. That steadied her to step to the bricks, reaching out her other hand to take hold of the top of the barrier. Once she had both feet on the bricks, she grasped the barrier and readied to swing over her right leg. Men shouted in the house, furniture crashing as they searched. They passed by a window left open in the boys’ room and one shouted, “Look under the beds!”

  Bear spray. She had the bear spray on her keychain, but she didn’t have her keys. Zaley had gone to lock the door, so she might have them in her backpack or pocket. There wasn’t time to ask now. Climbing over in a hurry, Elania stood upon the bricks on the other side. “Come on!”

  Grunting with effort, Zaley climbed onto the boards. They groaned when she moved to the pool and reached up for the roof. The glass door rolled open and the voices took on a sharper quality. Elania could see only a smidgen from where she was, one of the men in the house still, and the other coming into the backyard. Stepping up to the bricks with one foot, Zaley grasped the barrier. “I . . . I can’t hold . . .” The pool squeaked and shifted, tilting sideways to the garage. Zaley let go of the barrier and flung out her left hand for the roof.

  “Back here!” a man shouted.

  “What’s that?” the other called.

  “Push it back over!” Elania ordered. Zaley shoved against the roof and surfed back to the wall, her hand clasping the barrier and Elania clamping her hand down upon it to give her more strength. Zaley scrabbled for the bricks and swung a leg over as Elania edged down to give her room. No one was in the neighbor’s yard, the swing set empty and the driveway free of cars. It was a long jump down to the grass.

  The man rounded the garage and spotted them. He was Mexican, with brown hair and a wide nose, and she knew this man from behind the counter at Mr. Foods in the meat department. Elania gasped as his gun lifted, but he fired before it even got level with Zaley’s feet.

  No. As he fell to the ground with blood bursting from his chest, she saw that it was Zaley who had shot. Zaley was holding a gun. Jamming it down the waist of her jeans in the back, she cried, “Help me!” Elania balanced her (the man from Mr. Foods was still on the ground, not even twitching and his blood spreading) and they jumped down to the yard.

  The second man shouted. Elania landed with a jolt that made her ankles and calves cry out in displeasure. Adrenaline did not override the pain enough. Zaley limped after her to the chain-link fence and gate. Behind them, the boards groaned. The man exclaimed, “Are you guys still there on Valley? Swing over here now, zombie’s on the loose and armed! Shoot to kill, over!”

  A walkie-talkie crackled. “There in ten seconds!”

  Elania lifted the latch on the gate and they hobbled as fast as they could down the driveway. The pool was squeaking when they turned right at the road. Valley was only two streets away, so they didn’t even have time to cross here! Any second now they were going to be seen.

  Hide. They had to hide.

  Elania hurried over the grass to another neighbor’s porch. Made of adobe, it would shield them from the road. They went up the steps and ducked down immediately. Whoever lived in this place was some kind of artist, as the space had an easel and was cluttered with tables holding geodes and shells. They crawled through the mess to the farthest corner, where an old, raggedy blue tarp was covering a large clay Buddha statue. Tugging it down, Elania pulled it over the two of them. Zaley gasped for air and gripped her ankles in pain.

  “We’ve got to call the cops,” Elania hissed.

  “The cops . . .” Zaley panted, “are helping them. We need a car. And we have to tell the others!”

  Elania hadn’t packed her bottle of Zyllevir! She felt naked without it, even if she didn’t need another pill for a week. That had to be remedied, but first they had to figure out how to get a car. Tapping on her cell phone, she scrolled to Micah’s name and pressed it. Please pick up, please pick up . . .

  “What is this shit? Are you guys messing with me?” Micah growled over some whining tool at the dentist’s office, and Elania was filled with relief to hear her voice. “Austin’s gassed off his ass and I’m fucking freezing in this ten-degree office and I just got a call from Brennan who got a call from Corbin who says that Shepherds-”

  “Micah, it’s true and we need help,” Elania said urgently. “Zaley and I are trapped a block from my house, and she just shot a Shepherd.”

  “But did she shoot the deputy? Answer me: are you serious?”

  “Shhh,” Zaley hissed as heavy footste
ps ran down the driveway from the other house. Elania hung up, turned off the ringer, and texted. I don’t know what we should do. Zaley says the cops are working with them. Will you call my parents?

  Tell me exactly where you are, Micah wrote.

  Hiding on the porch of 412 Coe Street.

  I’ll be right there.

  Elania’s heart stopped to hear brakes in the road, followed by the man’s voice. “Yeah, she came this way and she’s packing. Raptor’s dead.”

  “Dead?” a woman cried in disbelief. “Should we call an ambulance?”

  “No, I checked. It’s too late. You and Gibbon drive these blocks. She can’t have gotten far. Her dad works at Shore and her mom at the junior high, her brothers are over at Miwan, so give those a drive-by.”

  They knew who and where her family was, even that she had brothers and no sisters. Elania almost peed herself to hear the names of the schools. But the triplets weren’t at Miwan. They had gone home with their friend Taylor, a girl who played as good as a boy in their opinion, and whose parents were not bothered by the boys having a zombie sister.

  Her parents would be in a meeting with tons of other people, not alone in their classrooms. She should text them, but she didn’t dare to move and rustle the tarp. Breathing slowly in and out through her mouth, she wished that she could disappear. The car pulled away as those heavy footsteps rang out from the sidewalk. The man was out of shape and winded from the exertion. The sound of his breath carried with his steps, which were coming up the walkway to the porch.

  There was a tiny hole in the tarp. Elania looked through it. A tall man with a lot of facial hair was climbing the steps, his gun drawn. A baseball cap was pulled low over his forehead. The girls stayed absolutely still beneath the blue fabric, even though a strap of the backpack was cutting hard into Elania’s shoulder. He glanced around the mess of a porch.

  She heard everything in those terrified seconds, the beating of her heart, the birds in the trees, traffic up on Geneva, the barking of a dog far in the distance. A dryer beeped in another house. She felt everything the same way, the twitches of muscles in her legs, the press of the porch under her ass, and the rise of her chest against her shirt. Zaley had closed her eyes. The Shepherd swiveled on the step and looked back out to the road. Then he descended. His heavy footsteps trod by the porch. Neither girl so much as breathed until they heard the swishing of grass one lawn over. The footsteps hit the sidewalk again farther away.