by Owen Baillie
As the men drew closer with their guns booming and the noise rolling across the valley, the infected around the playground began to fall.
“They’re bloody good shots,” Dan said.
It drew the odd one away to feed, but it also alerted them to the gunmen’s presence and others started for them. The men were forced to focus their bullets on those closer rather than gathered around the playground.
Kumiko noticed an infected female at the top of the slope near where they had exited the classroom. It stood almost disinterested in the goings on as more infected shuffled past towards the playground. This one didn’t look like the others. It had a tight ponytail and dark, almost black eyes. It had on blue jeans that had been shredded into shorts and a tight white T-shirt that accentuated her amazing physique—one of the most amazing Kumiko had ever seen. It must have been a body builder, because its arms and legs bulged with muscle.
At first, Kumiko thought it was staring at the crowd. Looking closer though, it appeared to be searching, its eyes darting back and forth, its head making small adjustments. A sick male bumped into it. The female rotated in a smooth, fluid motion and bit down into the soft flesh at the base of its neck. It hung on for almost ten seconds, then tossed the man aside. He crumpled to the ground. Kumiko expected others walking by to stop and feed on it. None did, and neither did the female. It turned its attention back to the crowd and watched the frenzy.
“Did you see that?” Kumiko asked.
“Yeah,” Dan said. “Bloody strange.”
The two men had almost reached the playground. Many of the infected gathered around the platform had drifted away towards the men. A tall, infected man with tendrils of hair took a few steps from the platform and stopped. He looked back at Dan and Kumiko, then took off towards the two men. Others followed—a small chubby woman wearing pink pajamas and a teenage boy, perhaps twelve or thirteen, with a short-styled Mohawk.
“They’re leaving,” Dan said.
Kumiko glanced up at the strange infected woman standing at the corner of the building. She was still there, focused on the horde. “They’re going after those guys.”
It was like a slow-moving shoal of fish. All but a few stragglers veered for the men, now approaching the playground perimeter. Suddenly they had a wall of hungry, infected people with which to contend.
Amidst the pop and crack of gunfire, thunder grumbled, closer, almost upon them. Infected people dropped amongst the horde but it didn’t seem to make much difference, even when one or two fell onto them and began to eat. Kumiko worried they would be overwhelmed. The gunfire stopped. The two men started to backtrack, the taller man reaching into his pocket for more ammo. One infected reached out for the shorter man. He flipped the rifle and swung it, striking the thing in the face. It flopped to the bark and two more fell on it. The taller man began to fire again and the infected fell, never to rise again.
The strange woman began to move—not just move, but sprint—towards the men. She bowled over the first few stumbling into her path. All but a few already engaged in fighting with the two men moved out of her way.
“It’s going for them,” Dan said. “It’s going to kill them. LOOK OUT!” he screamed. “IT’S COMING!”
46
Mac jogged down the slope and across the oval towards the playground as the rain began to fall in thick, heavy drops. Light flashed above in the purplish clouds, followed almost immediately after by booming thunder. It was the least of their worries. Mac thought of Tyler and Ashleigh with Ken and Shelli and hoped they were safe. He knew Ken would give his life to uphold his promise; the thing was that if Ken lost his life, there’d be nobody to protect the children. Mac shook the thoughts off and focused on the situation ahead.
He watched Dutch and Smitty pushing their way through the horde towards the two stranded kids atop the playground. A strew of infected lay across the bark floor around them. Although Dutch and Smitty had almost reached the kids, the infected began to move the other way—towards them. Even Mac, at a distance, recognized the flow of attackers suddenly begin to increase. Instead of fighting off one at a time, Dutch and Smitty found themselves defending two fronts as a wall of infected closed in.
“Get out of there,” Mac said to himself.
They couldn’t have much ammo left. Mac raised his shotgun and slowed marginally as he took aim. The weapon cracked and a chubby man with a beard and a red headband fell next to Smitty. The sick were moving behind his two mates. That made shooting them easier for Mac, but he was out of rounds. He fetched more shells out of his pockets, feeding them into the shotgun one at a time on the run. When it was full, he took aim and dropped two.
Smitty started backtracking first. He too appeared to be out of ammo. Mac knew what would happen next. Smitty flipped the rifle around and smashed one of the infected in the face—he’d done the same thing fighting the Taliban and saved his own life.
Still fifty yards away, Mac fired more shots until he was empty again. He stopped and reloaded the shotgun with another six shells from his pocket as raindrops splattered his hands. When he glanced up again, movement on the slope near the building caught his eye. It was a female version of the one he had just killed back at Jim’s car. These things were supercharged. She ran with the litheness of a cheetah, zipping through the infected towards Dutch and Smitty. Many of those closing in on the two men began to withdraw.
Mac sprinted. “LOOK OUT!”
He raised the rifle and fired at the streak. The shot missed. It would reach them before Mac, and both his mates were well occupied. Smitty was on the ground, wrestling with several. Dutch, who was closest, tossed one aside then turned at the last moment, but it was too late. The woman hit Dutch from the side and he went to the ground. Mac fired a shot as he ran towards them and it struck down one of the slower ones nearby.
“No,” Mac said between breaths. “No, you fuck.”
The thing was kneeling over Dutch, hands working furiously, face buried in his chest. Dutch’s fist pummeled its back and side, but the woman seemed unaffected. Mac heard Smitty shouting, and he was trying to get to Dutch, crawling across the grass with two infected attached to his legs. Smitty rolled over and kicked one in the face. The thing fell away, but another crawled onto Smitty’s back and knocked him down.
Mac stopped and took aim. The shotgun cracked and the infected woman jumped sideways. The bullet struck her ribs, but didn’t put her down. Smitty scrambled to his feet and smacked her in the face with the butt of the gun. It sprung to its feet and knocked Smitty down, then staggered away. Smitty shouted for it to stop as he crawled after it. The woman started up the hill between the other infected, still moving with surprising speed. Mac lined it up in the shotgun’s sights and fired, but it snuck behind several infected, and one of them took the hit. It reached the top of the slope and disappeared around the corner of the building.
Mac reached his mates. The slower infected returned, though far fewer than before, many distracted by the smorgasbord of dead lying around the playground. Mac fired off his last shells, then went straight into fighting, using the butt of the rifle to smash heads, and Smitty was back to using the same technique. One of the kids from the playground—a male—joined them, using the long-handled machete with surprising effectiveness. They quickly dispatched the remaining dozen wandering nearby.
Mac fell to his knees beside Dutch. His old mate’s eyes, splashed with raindrops, stared up at the sky, forever lifeless. His throat had been torn out, and the positioning of his head told Mac his neck was broken. Mac felt anger rise up in him. He glanced around and saw one of the infected wriggling on the grass. Mac snatched up the shotgun and began to strike the thing across the skull once, twice, three times until the thing stopped moving. He stood with the gun resting on the grass, taking deep breaths and trying to control his emotions. Dutch had been a loyal, reliable man and soldier—similar to Dave-O in many ways. Perhaps that was why they had gotten along so well. Mac dropped the shotgun.
&nbs
p; Smitty was crying. Mac recalled his desperation trying to reach Dutch. Mac stood and went to him, and they hugged hard, almost like a tackle, squeezing their emotion out through it, finishing with a pat on the back. Smitty had always struggled to hold his emotions in, and Mac loved him more for it.
The young woman from the playground, who couldn’t have been more than twenty, joined them. She was half Asian, probably Japanese, and despite her dirty face and bloody splashes, Mac suspected she’d had a lifetime of breaking hearts. Her clothes were bloody, her fine dark hair tangled. She wore a solemn expression and tried not to stare at Dutch.
The red-haired man spoke. “We’re so sorry.” He had a light beard and bulky physique. “We’d be dead without you guys.”
Mac nodded and held out his hand for the machete. The man passed it to him. “You handled it well,” Mac said.
There was a flash of lightning, followed by a clap of thunder, and the radio in Mac’s pocket crackled.
“… They’re coming! … Heading your way!”
It was Ken, and it sounded like they were in trouble. Mac snatched the portable radio from his pocket and pressed the button. “Ken? What is it?”
The handheld hissed. “… coming!”
A cold fear spread through Mac. “Drive away, Ken. Just like I told you. Drive away!”
A car engine sounded from the road beyond the entrance. They all spun, and Mac narrowed his gaze. Driving up the road towards the school was Ken’s white Nissan Navara. Mac felt his gut flip. It had somehow gotten around the flipped over fuel tanker, and following behind, on the side of the road, was a large number of infected.
At the last moment, the car turned into the school driveway and smashed through the gates with a tremendous bang. One of the gates hung on the hood as the car spewed gravel and headed, fishtailing, towards the office building. Half a dozen infected hung onto the trailer. Mac saw the tiny images of his children in the backseat.
He ran.
47
First thing Jim did was to ensure all the doors were locked and windows secure. The infected had smashed the glass in one of the classrooms at the far end of the admin building where Dan and Kumiko had exited. Jim was able to lock one of the internal doors though, and then slide a heavy filing cabinet in front of it. They would need to reinforce it later if they survived.
He was rearranging things in the staff room when he heard a sharp bang. He hurried to the doors and saw across the decking to the small parking lot where his white Ford SUV sat, then beyond to a white Nissan crew cab screeching up the driveway towards the office. It had smashed right through the entrance. One of the wire gates surfed on the hood momentarily, then slid off and fell aside, striking an infected man in the chest and knocking him down.
Jim was too thunderstruck to move. Through the windscreen, he saw an older male driver gripping the steering wheel with both hands. A woman of similar age sat beside him, and in the back seat, there appeared to be a couple of kids. The vehicle was towing a trailer and they were headed for the office building. Climbing over the trailer were numerous infected, battling to hold on as the man swerved side to side, gravel spewing out from beneath the tires.
From the table, Jim grabbed his now trusty spear and went out onto the decking. The white crew cab had almost reached Jim’s car. He leapt off the steps and stood in the rain, waiting for it to arrive. At the last moment, the driver turned sharply so the doors were facing Jim.
The big man with grey hair and rosy cheeks scrambled out. “I didn’t know what to do,” he yelled. “They came from nowhere. Started climbing all over us.”
“It’s all right,” Jim said. “Give me one of the kids.”
Two of the infected climbed off the trailer. Jim debated taking them on or helping with the kids, but the older man had the back door open already. He reached in and lifted out a young girl of four or five. Jim stepped forward and the man handed her to him. The woman had now opened her door and climbed out.
“I’ll get the boy,” the man yelled.
Jim took off for the stairs. As he reached the top, he glanced back and saw the woman standing at the open back door as the man reached in for the boy. Two of the infected were close—close enough to attack. They were going to be in trouble. Jim would have to go back.
He raced across the decking and put the girl down. He opened the door and gently nudged her inside. “Wait right there, sweetheart, okay?”
The girl nodded. Jim started back.
48
Mac sprinted across the football field against the rain and thunder, ignoring his burning thighs and winded gut. He spotted Tyler but not Ashleigh. Where was she? Hot terror burned in his chest as it began to tighten. He cleared a series of bushes and saw Jim at the sliding door, Ashleigh’s blonde hair disappearing into the safety of the office building. Mac understood instantly. Karma. I save your life, you save my kids. Almost. Tyler was still in the middle of it. Even from a distance, Mac saw Tyler’s face contorted with fear, tears streaming down his cheeks. The kid was hiding behind Ken’s legs as the infected groped for them both. They only had their fists and feet, and Mac knew they wouldn’t last long. Shelli was on the ground nearby, trying to get up. Ken was protecting her, too, but it meant he wasn’t defending himself as the groping hands of the infected closed in on him.
Jim arrived in his blood-soaked shirt and provided a moment’s respite as he fought them away with a hand-held spear, stabbing several in the head with an effective technique. They fell, but he had his hands full as more converged. Ken swiped a fist at the closest thing. It fell back, knocking another away. A tall, heavyset man wearing a tattered robe came at Ken from the side, trying to get to Tyler. No! Mac thought. Don’t let—
Fists raised like a boxer, Tyler stepped forward and kicked the thing in the thigh. It hesitated, and then Ken threw a right hook, striking it in the dead flesh of its cheek, and it fell. Pride filled Mac.
Calling for him in their whispery, slimy voices, Mac ignored the other infected as he reached the edge of the fray, dancing his way towards Tyler and Ken. With the machete raised, he swung it like a tennis player making a strong backhand. It sliced through the neck of an infected man, who fell back onto the grass. Mac twisted and turned, swiping the long-bladed knife back and forth at those within reach. He took another across the face, spun the blade and popped it through the cheekbone of the third. A clear space opened up. Ken was now on his knees, holding Tyler behind him with one hand and trying to fend off the infected with the other. He was failing though; one of the infected seized Ken’s left arm between dirty, clawed fingers. Mac dispatched two more then he was there, beside them, desperate to pick up his boy and make sure he wasn’t hurt, or worse, bitten. Tyler stepped around Ken and leapt into his father’s arms. Mac lifted him away in his left arm and fended off another attack with the machete in his right hand.
Shelli finally made it onto her feet and screamed. Ken had two infected on him, nothing but a blood-stained shirt visible through the moving bodies. Mac kicked one of them in the head and it rolled off, its lifeless face showing no emotion. Jim stuck his spear into the skull of the other then dragged it clear. The other one tried to stand, but Jim dove on it, staking the weapon through its right eye.
They were clear for a moment, bodies of the infected scattered all around and none left standing. Mac calculated the quickest way to safety. He saw Jim looking at him. There was only one way. Mac thrust Tyler into Jim’s arms.
“Inside. Quick. You too, Shell.”
She hesitated, but when Mac squatted and picked up Ken’s body, Shelli followed. Mac strained under the weight, ignoring the blood around Ken’s throat, and managed a few steps to get his momentum going. As he reached the top of the steps, he was relieved to find Smitty and the other two almost at the office building. Smitty was carrying Dutch’s body.
“Inside,” Mac yelled and shuffled across the wooden deck towards the open door.
He carried Ken into the room and laid him down on the carpe
t. Someone handed him a cloth and he placed it over the wound on Ken’s neck. Ken bucked in pain, gurgling and coughing blood in a splatter. Mac moved back.
“I’m sorry, Mac,” Ken said. “I didn’t …” coughing. “… know what to do. Just tried …” cough. “… to protect the kids.”
Sobbing, Shelli lay next to him, stroking his hair, her eyes full of tears. Mac felt his insides tighten. He’d had his goddamn fair share of people close to him passing of late. He leant in close to his old neighbor. “You did good, mate, real good. I always knew the kids would be safe with you.”
Ken smiled. “Are they all right?” He tried to get a look at them, as if to make sure, but his expression transformed into a grimace.
The kids were sitting in the corner of the staff room being comforted by the pretty girl they had saved from the playground. Outside, the infected thumped on the windows. Someone said they should draw the curtains.
“They’re good, mate. They’re fine.” Mac had Ken’s hand now. The older man’s grip was weak. “Just rest up. You’ll feel better in a minute. I promise, mate.”
A gentle peace seemed to slip over Ken. The tension dissipated from his body, and his shoulders relaxed. The coughing stopped. “Yes, Mac.” Surprise in his voice. “Feeling better already.”
Shelli looked at Mac and blinked away the tears. They spilled down her cheeks, revealing hopeful eyes. Mac tried to stop himself, but he shook his head. Shelli kept staring at him, as if he’d made a mistake and would correct himself at any moment. Mac’s lips made a thin, grim line. Shelli’s expression folded into grief, and she sobbed hard. Mac had witnessed it too many times, had felt it himself more than a man should have to feel. She leant forward and kissed Ken’s head. Her tears fell on his face.