Quickly, she reached behind her, pulled an arrow out of her backpack, readied it, and lined the closest one up again. Release. The nondescript red-headed zombie hit the ground the moment the arrow pierced its only eye. Again, she reached behind her, grabbed an arrow, readied it, and aimed. She heard Mac’s heavy breaths next to her and wished he would get himself under control. The sound was distracting. She released another arrow, but this time it struck the small female in the neck. Blood squirted out in spurts, but it continued forward, its head lolled to one side now and its mouth releasing a terrible shrieking.
“I’ve got that one. Get the big one,” Mac said as he readied himself to fight.
By that time, others from the zombie horde noticed what was going on. They broke off from the grouping below Dan’s body one by one and made their way slowly over to the living, breathing, meat by the door. Even the ones that had turned to the animals had lost interest when they couldn’t make their way through the bars. They shuffled, feet dragging along the dirt ground, over to Christine and Mac. She had to do something before they were surrounded, before they had to retreat out into the open where the environment wasn’t contained and anything could happen.
She reached behind, pulled an arrow, readied it, aimed, and paused. Missing was not an option this time she told herself. She had to strike the head or they would never have a chance. The horde was closing in. Mac raised his knife as the small female neared him with hunger in its bloodshot eyes. Its fingers gripped the straps of his overalls and pulled him closer. Before it could force Mac into its mouth, he plunged the knife into the top of its head. There was a sickening, wet sound as he pulled the weapon free, and then the body hit the ground at his feet.
Christine felt the tiniest bit of tension release in knowing one more was down, only about thirteen more to go. With each one they put to permanent death, they had a fighting chance. She drew a slow breath and released another arrow. This time it hit its target dead on. The large male zombie’s head jolted back from the force of the arrow penetrating its skull. It fell to the ground with a thud, dust kicking up and dancing around its putrid body before dissipating.
Mac groaned and then cried out in struggle as he fought with another one of the dead, one that matched him in size and strength. They had each other by the shoulders, throwing each other around; the zombie attempting to draw Mac closer while Mac attempted to shove it away. If Mac let go to drive his knife into its skull he might not have enough strength in one arm to hold the corpse off. He could be bitten and he was well aware of the situation he was in. So the struggle continued in a fury of grunts, groans, and war cries.
Christine readied another arrow. The draw was still a bit much for her and she felt a throbbing pain growing in her arm and shoulders. In that time, a widely girthed female undead shuffled forward until it was only a few feet away. Christine’s eyes kept flickering up to judge the distance while she aimed, but the zombie was too close. It reached out and swiped the bow aside before Christine could steady it. The arrow released into the dirt.
The rotting corpse grabbed Christine’s arm hard. She could feel a bruise already forming from the force of it. With all she could muster, she tried to wriggle herself free, but the thing had an unbreakable grip. Christine’s eyes widened as the monster pulled closer, opening its cracked, bloodied lips to reveal broken, jagged yellow teeth. Black bile dripped as it drew closer. Christine pulled her head back. Every muscle in her face tightened as she kept herself from gagging on the rotting smell emanating just inches from her face. She could still hear Mac fighting the other zombie to her left.
This is it, she thought as the undead chomped the air in front of her face. I can’t believe this is it.
XVI
All at once, Christine felt the zombie’s hands release their grip. When she opened her eyes it was crumpled up in a heap on the floor, the top of its head sheared clean off. Half the skull lay next to it in a bloodied mess of matted dark hair and skin. Christine held her breath and whipped around.
“Here!” was all Zack said as he shoved a large knife into her free hand. “Toss that bow aside and start killing these things!”
He didn’t wait for her to agree or make a move. He charged forward to the closest non-living being and began hacking away with his longsword. His movements were swift and always hit their mark, slicing through brains and hacking off legs so the dead would stay on the ground where they belonged. He didn’t make a sound as he cut his way through the remaining horde. His breath escaped his lips in silence, only seen in puffs of white as it hit the cold air.
Christine snapped out of her shock and finally exhaled the breath she’d been holding in. She turned and put an end to the ongoing struggle Mac was trapped in, driving her knife into the temple of the zombie he was fighting.
“Thanks,” he said, out of breath.
Christine didn’t bother to respond. There was no time. They had to extinguish every single zombie before they killed an animal, finally reached Dan, or worst of all bit one of them. She followed behind Zack, putting an end to the broken beings on the ground with a single stab of her knife in their brain. Within two minutes they all lay still and lifeless, blood and bile seeping into the dirt floor.
“What were you two doing out here?!” Zack turned and closed the gap between him and Christine. “Those things almost had you!”
She wanted to take a step back as he approached, but she didn’t. Instead, Christine kept her eyes on his and her face firm and unflinching. Without a word, she pointed up at the ceiling behind Zack. He turned his head and his body slowly followed. The muscles in his face pulled downward as his eyes stared in disbelief.
Dan’s body was still swinging slightly, his head rested downward and to the side. Christine couldn’t help wondering how long it had taken him to die. She hoped he hadn’t suffered and it was quick. She clenched her jaw as she stared, fighting the tears that threatened to spill.
“Holy—,” Zack said under his breath. “Mac, stay down here and grab him. I’m going to get him down.”
Mac did as he was told and reached up high toward Dan, though he was not able to put more than a fingertip on the young man’s boot. He braced himself for the full weight of the body when it came down.
Zack ran up the steps to the rafters. He walked to the edge and reached out to the beam the rope was tied to. His arms were shorter than Dan’s and for a moment he was worried he wouldn’t be able to reach to do it, but there was no way he was going to call anyone else from the bunker up there to help him. No one needed to see this. His knife worked against the rough rope until it was cut loose.
“Get ready!” he shouted down to Mac.
All at once, the rope gave way and Dan’s body sliced through the cold air to land in Mac’s arms. It wasn’t graceful or soft. It wasn’t like you see in the movies. It was clumsy and hard and almost too much for Mac to handle. He swayed back and tried to steady his balance as Dan’s full weight threatened to knock him down.
There could have been comments about how Dan didn’t look like he weighed that much or about the bulging of his dark, sensitive eyes, or the fact that the air wreaked of death all around them, but there was nothing to be heard in the complete silence. Christine took a step closer as Mac struggled to stand upright and Zack ran back down the stairs from the loft. She wondered how Gretchen would take it. That was the only person from the group she could remember ever talking with Dan, the only one who seemed to be his friend. Everyone else avoided him. If Christine hadn’t just lost Liam, she might have been in a better state of mind to reach out to Dan while they were at the apartment still. But she kept to herself, as Dan seemed to, and watched everything going on around her instead of participating. They had a lot in common, really. The idea sent a chill through her body and a tingle up her spine. That very well could have been me, she thought and then turned to Zack as he approached them hastily.
Though Mac still struggled, Zack didn’t stoop to help him
. He didn’t put his shoulder under Dan’s other arm to help drag him back to the bunker to await a proper burial. He stared with saddened, heavy eyes.
“We should get him back,” Christine offered, her voice catching in her tightened throat. She touched Zack’s arm to encourage him.
“Yeah, we should,” was all he said as he bent down and scooped Dan up into his arms like a child.
Dan’s head rested forward onto Zack’s chest, his legs and arms swinging with each step taken. For anyone else looking on, it might look like he was only sleeping. Tears rolled down Christine’s cheeks. At least he hadn’t been bitten. He wasn’t going to come back as one of those things. He could rest in peace now, no longer troubled by the chaotic world around him. Christine and Mac followed a ways behind Zack as he headed back to the safety of underground. If only Dan had stayed there. If only they had all stayed there.
Mac bent to open the hatch. He headed down first and waited, ready to assist Zack in getting the body down safely and quietly. Christine watched, wanting to help but only feeling in the way if she tried. She looked up at the dark sky and felt a drop of rain hit her nose and splatter her cheek. Closing her eyes, she let out a deep breath and embraced the coolness of the water striking her skin.
“If you had left sooner, taken the journal to the right people in Chicago immediately after I died, like you wanted to, instead of listening to everyone else, Dan might still be alive. He might not have wanted to leave the world if there was a hope for its restoration. It still needs to be done, so no one else gives up like he did, Christine. Your plans may have been delayed, but only let it be for a day. Insist his immediate burial and leave tomorrow night while everyone sleeps. It’s what you have to do.” Liam’s voice rang inside her head. She waited for his touch on her arm or shoulders, but none came. When she opened her eyes, she stood alone at the top of the open hatch.
“Coming down?” Zack called up to her.
The rain fell harder now, dampening her long blonde hair, weighing down her head and thoughts. Maybe Liam’s right, she thought as she lowered herself down into the ground. I should leave, and soon.
They made their way through the tunnel to the common room, led by the dim light of Mac’s flashlight he kept in his back pocket. Their steps were careful, soft, and slow. Christine was unsure how they were going to bring this body into their living space and not have a whirlwind of questions, tears, and cries of grief from those who knew him and some who didn’t. She thought of the few children who were a part of the community and wondered if they had seen a dead body before. In the middle of the night she had even heard the sound of a young toddler, no older than two, crying, though she had yet to see them. Surely, in this world, they’d seen worse horrors she assured herself.
“Wait here,” Mac said, holding his arm out as they approached the round common area.
Zack waited in the shadows, clutching Dan’s lifeless body to him. His breath was heavier than usual, but Christine couldn’t be sure if it was from carrying Dan or from the shock of it all. She wondered what Zack was thinking in the moment he found Dan. Was he happy that the person who killed Anita was dead? Or did he feel remorse, sadness, or even regret? Zack was never one to hide his feelings and that went for his feelings toward Dan after he came to the apartments. He never talked to the young man of his own accord, and when he was forced to it was short and harsh. His eyes threw wild daggers every time Dan crossed his path and there were many times the tall, broad man grumbled inaudibly under his breath, the only word that could be made out being Dan’s name. But Christine couldn’t believe Zack would ever have truly wanted Dan dead. That just wasn’t him. Unless the cruel, hideous new world had changed him. She didn’t rule out the possibility.
After a few minutes, Mac popped his head back into the tunnel and waved Christine and Zack forward with his hand. “Come on, you two. It’s okay. Very few are awake and the ones who are I’ve prepared so they don’t wake the others.”
Christine went first and stopped when she was a few feet into the light. She turned and watched Zack emerge from pure blackness with the dead boy laying loosely in his grip. If she hadn’t been there, witnessed the terrible event herself, and saw what she saw then, she would have gasped, let out a little scream of shock, possibly even burst out in a raucous sob. Instead, tears rolled down her cheeks silently.
“Dear God,” she heard a woman’s voice behind her say. Another gasped a soft, “Oh no.” There was quiet crying from more than one. When she turned to look, there was a total of five people standing in the common room looking on, one being Gretchen.
Christine’s sister had her hands over her mouth, pressed tightly to her. Her eyes were already bloodshot from the threat of tears as they welled up and spilled over in a stream down her cheeks. Her nostrils flared as she tried to keep under control. Instead, she let out strained whimpers. Finally, her eyes closed and gave in. Her shoulders moved up and down as she let herself feel the immense pain and grief death tends to bring. She opened her blue eyes and took small steps forward until she was standing at Christine’s side in front of Zack holding Dan. Her shaking hand reached out for the cold hanging one nearest to her. Her entire body shivered and then she sobbed even harder. She let go of Dan’s hand and threw herself onto Christine, begging silently for comfort.
Christine wrapped an arm around her sister’s back while the other cradled her head and pet her short, wavy hair. She shushed her calmly, trying to soothe her away from a breakdown.
“I can’t believe it,” Gretchen said through the tears. “I can’t believe he’s gone. How did it happen?”
Christine pulled away slightly to look her sister in the eyes. Her own softened and glazed over with tears, making it hard for her to see, as if she were trying to open her eyes under water in the stinging salty sea. “He hung himself…in the barn,” she said slowly.
This sent Gretchen into another fit of tears and clinging for comfort. Christine didn’t try to fight it, but gave in, needing comfort of her own in that moment. They held each other tightly as Zack walked over to the couch and laid Dan’s body down gently. Everyone in the room followed to where he lie and stood around him in vigil, saying their goodbyes with silent respect.
Christine held Gretchen’s hand tightly in her own as she looked down. Aside from the bruises and rope burn shining brightly on his neck, Dan looked as if he were in a peaceful dream. She reached down and grabbed hold of both his wrists to position them neatly across his chest. That’s when she felt it…his muscles contracted and tightened at her grip. A soft, hissing filled the room and Dan’s eyes opened.
XVII
Christine dropped her hold on Dan and jumped back. The boy’s dark lips parted to emit a horrendous hissing. His clouded eyes locked onto Christine’s and wouldn’t release her from their gaze. One stiff arm raised from the couch and stretched out toward her warm flesh, his fingers closing and opening desperately. As Dan’s fresh corpse reached further, his body tugged away from the couch in an attempt to sit up and grasp its first meal.
There were gasps and squeals of terror from the small crowd of onlookers, a mixture of Christine’s group and the bunker dwellers. They all stood frozen, unsure what to do. Dan was one of them, or at least he had been. Some had just learned of his passing seconds ago. To be faced with attacking his corpse was just too much for any of them to process. Christine could see it in their large, bulging eyes and covered mouths.
Christine reached over her shoulder where her arrows stuck out from her backpack. A rushing wind blew past her and with a slice Dan was on the ground face-down. Zack stood over Christine, his longsword in one hand and his other outstretched to help Christine up from the crouched position she was in. She grabbed his hand and stood, brushing the dirt from her jeans.
She wanted to say thank you, but she couldn’t. How could you thank someone for killing a friend?
Zack sheathed his sword at his hip, turned, and walked away to one of the rooms. He shut
himself inside without a word.
“What happened?”
“What’s going on?”
“How could this be?”
“How did he die?”
“Was he bit?”
“Were there others?”
The questions came flying at Christine so fast she didn’t have time to answer a single one. Her head spun from the whirlwind of noise. She wanted to reach up and cover her ears so she could think for a minute, but then Mac came to stand next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
“Okay, folks, I know you have some questions that need answering. How about we show some manners and ask one atta time so we can answer properly, hm?” He gave Christine’s shoulder a squeeze. It was meant to be comforting, she knew, but all she wanted to do was run and hide.
Christine’s eyes roamed the crowd and landed on Gretchen. She was still covering her mouth, staring helplessly at Dan’s oozing, bloodied body on the ground. Even though she was silent, it looked as if she were screaming. Her entire body shook like a leaf in the wind. Christine made to move toward her, but Mac had a strong hold. She decided not to fight it. Everyone deserved to know what happened. It was up to Mac and Christine to work together on this one.
One of the bunker dwellers, a shorter man with oily black hair slicked back and suspenders holding up his raggedy brown pants, spoke up above the rest. “Will someone please tell us what in the Sam Hill happened to this boy?” His voice echoed throughout the dome-shaped room and brought silence afterwards. At least a dozen pairs of eyes stared, eagerly awaiting the answer.
Christine opened her mouth to speak even though she wasn’t quite sure what she was going to say, but Mac beat her to the punch.
“Well, Adam, this young man here—”
“Dan,” Gretchen said in a small, shaky voice. “Dan Anderson.”
Dead Soil (Book 2): Dead Road Page 15