Their faces were void of friendliness. They only showed emptiness and a terrifyingly violent hunger. From their noses to their eyes, the skin either was rotted away or was pulled up to expose bleeding and decaying gums, making them seem even more terrifying. A grotesque membrane of slop swung from the closest dog’s gaping maw.
There was no chance to run and hide. The zombie dog was too quick and locked its jaws tightly onto the teenager’s legs. Another dog ripped into his stomach, tearing away layers of skin, tissue, and muscle. He was being filleted. Bit by bit, sections of his body were torn away, exposing his organs for more dogs to feast upon viciously. He welcomed death and prayed for it, but it didn’t come as quickly as he’d hoped.
His head was seemingly being forced to look down to watch his own guts being dragged out of him. Unable to turn away, his gaze froze as he watched his lower extremities being mangled. His mind felt as though he’d just been plucked from the pig farm, skinned alive, and slaughtered. He was unable to scream as another zombie dog penetrated his throat, slicing the delicate vocal cords into tiny pieces. Closing his eyes, the last thing he saw was a fountain of his own blood as it sprayed him in the face.
Guns were being fired at the dogs, but inexperienced shooters were missing the zombie dogs’ heads and hitting the ground, the wall, and the grass. There was a near-miss as a stray bullet flew over the heads of a young couple running for safety.
“Aim for their heads!” Danny yelled over the commotion.
Julie had locked herself into the school hall at the first sounds of screaming. She peered out the window. Unable to see through the trees and buildings surrounding the hall, she just kept vigil grimly. The others in the room joined her, all of them hovering about like lost lambs and rubbernecking to see what was going on.
“This isn’t going to work. There are far too many of them,” Stanley called over top of the guns firing.
“You think I don’t know that? Get everyone inside. If people remain quiet, they might leave,” Danny yelled back.
“I got a better idea,” Stanley said as he raced off.
Danny fired his last shot and then started running toward the nearest house, screaming at everyone to get inside. He had no idea what Stanley was up to. All he cared about was the safety of the community. Danny was one of the first that Ethan had brought back to the town, a burly ex-fireman. He continued to scream for everyone to barricade themselves inside and keep quiet. People were darting left and right in a chaotic fashion, slipping on the blood-soaked surface of the road in a blind panic to get away, only to be torn to shreds by the four-legged running dead.
Danny and the others who had made it inside buildings jumped when they heard the loud beeping. A constant bleep of a car horn - no, a bus, thought Danny, it’s the horn of a bus. But how?, he thought to himself. Stanley can’t drive a bus. He got close to the window of the house he was in, pulled back the lace curtains, and was clearly able to see that it wasn’t Stanley driving.
Abe drove the bus out of town, leaning on the horn without letting up one bit. Both Abe and Stanley were yelling out the bus windows, shooting into the air, and making more noise than a drunken bachelor party. The constant uproar began to pull the dogs in the direction of the bus. Like children following the Pied Piper, most of the dogs followed right on out of the little town. Danny had no idea where Abe and Stanley would lead them.
Abe started to recite a passage from the Bible.
“Behold, I give you the authority to trample on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy, and nothing shall by any means hurt you. Luke 10:19.”
“Any idea of where you’re going?” Stanley asked him.
“Yes, I’m being led by Our Father in Heaven. He will show me the way.”
“Hope you’re right, man.”
“Have faith, Stanley.”
Between conversations, they took turns yelling out the window and shooting into the air. With the horn still blowing, it drove the dogs crazy.
Stanley wanted to have faith, but he was too angry. Since the start of his teenage years, he’d grown into two very different people. He found himself constantly battling his other self. The more he fought, the more the ugly, angry, unhappy soul took over. He had no faith back then in spite of his parents being Christians, and he had no faith now.
From the age of seventeen, he’d turned away from God, and he hadn’t found his way back. Instead, he grew into an adult with extreme anger issues, taking it out on his wife and children with abusive mind games. He never laid a hand on either of his two kids or his wife. Instead, he ridiculed them, belittled them, and made them feel stupid, unloved, insecure, and miserable.
His wife had submitted to his name-calling, and never fought back, complained, or spoke up. But since the outbreak, she’d found her voice and regained her self-confidence. She left him and took the kids and stayed at her brother’s place. With no one to belittle, he’d turned on the townspeople.
“How is it that you still believe? How is it that you still hold on to God? With all this shit unfolding before your eyes, you still believe God will save us?”
“Because if you truly believe, then it won’t matter if you live or die, for you will be in Heaven, without those things eating you or your loved ones.”
“Not buying it. Once upon a time I did, but not anymore. Man, just look around you! This isn’t a game. Those things are real, and God didn’t stop it. He didn’t stop it!”
“It’s not a test of God. If you were once a true believer, you’d know why he hasn’t stopped this. This is Man’s doing. God gave man free will. Look at what Man has done, not what God hasn’t.”
Abe’s hand was tiring from blowing the horn for so long. When he began to let up, Stanley took over. Reaching his hand across, he pushed the horn down as far as it would go. Abe knew that he had on some level awakened that part of Stanley that still believed. He knew he could save him.
“Ephesians 6:11. Put on the whole Armor of God that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil.”
“So, where’re you going to take the dead dogs?”
“See up ahead, the road leading to the Hudson River? I’m going to make them jump into the river.”
“Good plan, old man, I like it.”
Looking behind the bus, Stanley could see at least a hundred dogs, maybe more. The bus was only doing fifty, so they were able to chase it but not catch it. Watching them trailing behind, they looked to Stanley like a bunch of disfigured robotic wind-up toy dogs. They were five rows wide, with a mixture of drool, blood, and decaying flesh staining the asphalt as a revolting, rotting smell wafted in the air.
Something bizarre is taking place here, thought Stanley. As they drove with the horn blaring, their voices yelling, and the gunfire, other dogs fell in with the pack, growing its number.
Five hundred feet from the Hudson River, Abe picked up speed. Stanley raised his thin brows as confusion and worry spread across his face. Without saying anything, he watched to see what Abe did. Abe got the bus up to ninety and then turned sharply, dragging the tires hard against the cold asphalt. The sound, like steel hitting steel, grated on Stanley’s backbone and caused gooseflesh to prickle upward. The sudden speed and swaying of the bus were giving him motion sickness, but he managed to hold down his bile as he stood gripping a railing tightly with one hand.
“Let go of the horn!” cried Abe.
Stanley let go, still confused. Abe offered no explanation. He just rocketed toward a stationary vehicle.
“You think you can get into that car and see if it will start? I want you to rig the horn and have it land in the river with the bus pushing it.”
Stanley understood what he was doing. Without Abe stopping the bus, he was already pushing the folding doors open. He was out the door and jumping into the car. It had keys still in the ignition. His mind was unsure if it was God intervening – the keys being there like that – or just luck of the draw. He ran to the trunk, popped it open, a
nd took out the tire iron. Starting the car, he jammed the tire iron between the driver’s seat and the steering wheel so that the horn was pressed fully into the column. Stanley released the handbrake, jumped out, and ran back to the bus.
“What if they don’t follow that and only follow us?”
“They won’t. Have faith, and trust me.”
Stanley had no real choice in the matter. He pushed the button and the bus doors closed with an escaping air hiss. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw the pack of dogs fast approaching.
“They’re coming. Why aren’t you going?”
“I need them closer.”
Abe backed the bus up, then straightened it so it was directly behind the vehicle that Stanley had rigged. When the dogs were ten feet from the bus, Abe floored it, bumping into the car in front of him and pushing it forward. He continued until he reached the jetty ramp, gave it another push, and then stopped the bus. Putting his chubby finger to his lips, he mouthed hush to Stanley. Looking over his shoulder briefly, he saw the dogs carrying on past the bus. They were invisible to the zombies chasing the blaring horn and the car down the ramp.
Once the car hit the water, it let off a loud gurgling sound much like that of a blocked sink, thought Stanley. Each of the dead dogs followed it into the water – and each of them, unable to swim, flailed like crazed octopuses. They made eerie cries and loud splashing sounds that drew the other dogs to them. Stanley kept turning his head and looking over his shoulder, watching as each of the dogs descended the ramp and went straight into the river. With them being unable to get themselves back to land, it gave Stanley a chuckle. With the vast number of dogs thrashing about, it drew the rest into the water.
“Fucking dumb dogs.”
“Language please.”
“Sorry, old man, I’m just excited to see that this actually worked.”
“I never doubted it would.”
“No, you didn’t. You were right.” Stanley studied the old man’s face. The wrinkles on his forehead looked like deep map lines, and his dark eyes looked like black holes. His hair carried more gray than black, making him look older than he probably was, thought Stanley.
“I wasn’t after any recognition. Let’s just head on back to the town. We have some walls to fix.”
Stanley’s usual egotistical and maniacal sneering didn’t manifest this time. He was able to keep it on the down-low without even trying. Something about Abe had a calming effect on Stanley. Was it his South African accent, or was it that he reminded him of his late father? His mind played around with those thoughts. Stanley usually hated everyone but himself, but now he was finding out he didn’t have to just enjoy his own company. He found solace, with a side dish of amusement that reared up every now and again, in Abe’s company.
“Why don’t we ensure this bus has a full tank before heading back to town?” Abe said with a broad smile.
Stanley wasn’t sure, but he felt like the old man wanted more time with him, perhaps to convert him back to God.
“Maybe we could take out some more of those fuckers while we find a gas station.”
“Language, boy!”
“Come on, old man, even you must know how difficult it is to just stop being who you are.”
Abe gave him a warm smile.
“Time takes care of everything.” He paused a moment, looking over at Stanley. “You can think before you speak, son. I promise you, it will help curb that filth you have spilling out of your mouth.”
Stanley didn’t want to change, not with the way the world was dying. He was happy being who he was.
“You going to find this gas station or just sit there gawking at me?”
Abe started the bus and pulled out. His mind was on the townspeople, wondering who had survived and who hadn’t.
“We’re moving. I was just thinking… gathering myself. Try not to be in such a hurry all the time, Stanley.” Abe spoke his dogma firmly.
“Whatever you say, old man. Let’s just get this filled up and head back, because I’m hungry.”
Abe wanted to reach over and shake Stanley by the shoulders, but he let it ride for now. Working on him would be difficult, but not impossible.
Abe amused himself with his thoughts of bringing Stanley back from his obnoxious ways. The devil won’t hold on for much longer, he said under his breath.
CHAPTER 13
FAMILY IS EVERYTHING
Once Lily felt able to walk, they planned a memorial service for the girls and for Earl, who had also passed away. Anya helped Lily prepare a service while Bellamy, Calloway, and Harry dug the graves and etched the names on the little crosses they’d made.
Seventeen-year-old Anya had terrible cuts and puncture wounds. Her skin had been sutured back together along her back and legs. Bruises and welt marks covered a great portion of her body, yet no amount of persuading her to stop helping worked. She forced herself out of bed, against the advice of Doctor Leo, and tended to the flowers.
Lily had Timothy collect all the girls’ clothing, toys, and drawing items from the room and store them in the warehouse. She couldn’t be around it without being reminded of the little girls.
Once the service was over, they decided they didn’t want to wait any more. Oliver, Calloway, Timothy, Bellamy, and Lily headed to Sleepy Hollow on a rescue mission. They took the Volvo truck, much to Oliver’s disappointment, though he understood it was due to the number of people. He reluctantly parked the Mercedes G63 AMG SUV and took pride in describing the Black Widow to Bellamy and Lily, who seemed awed by its power and beauty.
“It’s completely armored, and powered by a 5.5 liter, 8-cylinder twin turbo engine reaching approximately 544 horses of total raw power. Inside, there’s a full leather interior and room enough for a giant.” He looked himself up and down with a wide smile as he carried on.
“It has the best suspension and smooth driving optimizations, and it’s protected against 7.62 mm .308 Winchester, FMJ ammunition. The floor is armored to withstand blasts and shrapnel from the detonation of two xDM51 grenades detonated simultaneously.”
“That’d have come in handy when we left Vermont, when I got us lost and we stumbled upon this town at the bottom of the White Mountain National Forest,” Bellamy said as he ran his fingers along the side of the vehicle. Then he watched as Oliver handed the keys over to Nakos, should they need to turn the alarm off or head out if the four-legged walkers overran the town.
Bellamy had Keith, Harry, Nakos, Nigel, and three others on twenty-four-hour rotation watches, while the rest did their best to fill in the weak spots in the fencing to ensure that no more dogs could enter the town. He felt confident leaving them in charge, even though he didn’t know how long it would take to retrieve Julie and Tiffany, and possibly others too, and bring them all back to Sunset Valley.
Everyone’s mood had shifted after the loss of Beth and Ruth. The loss was hardest on Lily. Though she wasn’t their mother, she’d been responsible for them for some time and they’d grown on her. Some small part of her had died that day, and she was now struggling to accept their New World, especially with the new knowledge of human zombies. It all festered inside of her, making her question everyone’s future.
“Hey, hon, are you okay?” Bellamy said softly as he rested his hand on her lap. Feeling her warmth put a faint smile on his face.
“I will be, it’s just… You know.”
Bellamy knew very well what she was trying to say. He squeezed her thigh and gave her a quick glance before his eyes returned to the road.
“I’m pretty shocked to see how much things have changed in the time we’ve been gone… Just look at that!” Bellamy followed her finger and looked over toward the forest line, where he saw a scattering of body parts. Blood was streaked in zigzagged lines, some disappearing into the forest, while some marked the road as if a new type of line paint was being tested.
“It has escalated, no doubt about it. We, however, have beaten it.” Bellamy’s hand waved around as he co
ntinued speaking. “And we’ll continue to beat this. We have a nice safe town, some great people, and we can make a life there, a good life. Our existence is not extinguished yet, babe. We are the survivors for our future, and the futures of our children and their children.”
Lily thought she was listening to the president again. Bellamy often reminded her of him in a political speech kind of way, the way the president might speak to fellow survivors. It gave her some much-needed reassurance. She put her fingers into the palm of his hand and rubbed it gently, causing great spider like reactions along Bellamy’s back.
“Do you hear that banging?” Lily asked with her ears straining to hear where the noise was coming from. Bellamy couldn’t hear anything at first, but then he realized it was coming from the back of the truck.
“Someone in the back wants something. I can hardly hear them from up here.” He stopped the truck. When he opened the door, he was greeted by a very excited Timothy.
“Uncle Bell, can I sit up front with you guys? I can’t stand being in the dark.”
“Of course you can.”
Timothy jumped out and rushed to the front.
Once they were back on the road, Lily was surprised by Timothy’s chattiness. It made the time go faster and took her mind off the girls.
“Where will we stay for the night, if needed?” Lily said, directing her question at Bellamy.
“Anywhere but inside any buildings. We can stay in the back of the truck and park it anywhere you like. Or we could swap drivers and keep going. Oliver said he knew how to drive the truck. If he’s had some sleep, he and I can swap.”
“Oliver isn’t, or wasn’t, sleeping when I was back there. He’s too busy chatting with Dad, and neither of them looked the slightest bit tired.”
“Don’t worry about it, Timmy. I wasn’t planning to stop anytime soon. We’ve only been on the road three hours, so I have at least another six left in me.”
“Well, just don’t be as stubborn as Dad was. That’s how we crashed, remember?”
Hounded | Book 3 | Hounded 3 Page 9