Love and Decay, Volume Eight (Episodes 9-12, Season Three)

by Higginson, Rachel

  I swallowed back bile from the putrid smell.

  “We have to move,” Hendrix huffed next to me. “They’re never going to stop coming.”

  What if that’s what they want us to do? I kept that thought to myself. Staying put wasn’t an option either.

  “King and Harrison, grab what you can!” Vaughan ordered over the sound of our gunfire and the Zombies screeching. “Then we leave.”

  My heart lurched. I didn’t want to leave another vehicle behind. This one had gotten us so far. It was reliable. It was familiar. It was supposed to get us out of Mexico.

  Hendrix cursed under his breath and pressed closer to me. He didn’t want to leave the van either.

  I aimed at a Feeder, readying to jump at our circle. One shot was all I had to kill it or it was going to kill me. I met its reflective red eyes and felt my hands shake with fear and determination. Letting out a settling breath I pulled the trigger.

  The monster didn’t have time to react before the bullet punched through its forehead and exited the other side of its head. The malicious light dimmed from its face and it toppled headfirst onto the ground below, only to be pounced on by another Feeder.

  The baby’s screams penetrated my focus and I felt sick with unease. We had to move.

  When Harrison and King reemerged from the van, laden with supplies and bags, Vaughan led the way. We inched along in a tight circle toward a narrow alley. It was the only thing not blocked off, which made me especially nervous.

  Something landed near my feet while I was preoccupied with my surroundings. I jumped back just as jagged fingernails swiped at my ankle. I panicked and shot before I aimed properly. My bullet hit the ground next to the Feeder’s hip, useless and wasted.

  I adjusted my hands as it rocked back to a crouch and coiled to spring. When it leapt into the air, I lifted my hands and pulled the trigger. Blood and brain matter showered down on me, but the Feeder landed dead on the ground.

  I used my forearm to wipe at my face. My eyes burned with the contaminated blood and I could feel the squishy pieces of brain and sharp shreds of bone all over my face. I wanted to be sick, but I managed to keep it down by focusing on killing something else. I tried to swallow through my roiling nausea.

  On foot, we could get lost in this city for weeks. Maybe months.

  Maybe forever.

  My thigh screamed with pain where it still healed. The bullet wound had done a serious number on me and sometimes I wondered if I would ever be back to normal. My legs started shaking from the pain and I started to get nervous.

  My weakened leg tripped over squishy debris. Just as I started to flail, Hendrix’s arm wrapped around my waist and caught me. As I disentangled my feet from a plastic bag filled with something squishy and wet, I tried not to vomit. I kicked up a terrible smell that mingled with the suffocating scent of Feeders and sewage.

  My mouth salivated until I had to constantly swallow to keep down my meager meal from earlier.

  Tyler couldn’t handle it. She leaned forward and puked up her supper. Vaughan stood guard over her heaving back. Page puked next and I felt something splash the backs of my ankles.

  Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

  I never thought scent could be dangerous, but everything around us was dead or rotting. The cloying decay drowned our senses and turned our stomachs. It was hard to keep my eyes open against the force of it.

  I gagged and tried to cover my nose and mouth with my bicep while I continued to shoot at the swarming Feeders.

  “Don’t do it, Reagan,” Hendrix shouted at me. “If you puke, I will too. Keep it in!”

  I gagged again, but fought desperately to swallow the rising bile. Hendrix could not be taken out of this fight. Not one of the Parker brothers could. If we all started vomiting, we stood no chance against this horde.

  Lennon’s shrill screams helped me keep it together. He was inconsolable at the moment. I wondered if the smell bothered him as much or if his face was buried deep enough in Haley’s chest that he could only sense his mama.

  I hoped that was the case. I hoped he didn’t have to suffer through this like the rest of us.

  My eyes watered, but I blinked away the moisture and focused on the rooftops. One of the Feeders I intended to shoot jumped from a higher building to a lower one near the dead end. The roof was slick with something he hadn’t anticipated and he lost his footing. His long nails scratched at the metal roof, but it was too late, he slipped over the edge of the building and disappeared into the unknown.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  “Did you hear that?” I asked Hendrix. I took aim at a Feeder and managed to shoot it in the shoulder. When it jerked back, I readjusted and nailed it in the temple.

  “Hear what?” he shouted at me to be heard.

  “The gunshots!”

  “What gunshots? All I hear are gunshots!”

  It hurt my lungs to talk because I had to inhale the toxic air and it burned in my chest and antagonized my already queasy stomach.

  I wanted another Feeder to fall over the edge of that building so I could test a theory, but noticed none of them got close to it. In fact, now that I paid attention, I realized that we had managed to put our backs to the locked gate and were only fighting Feeders on three sides. Nothing came from behind us.

  “We need to get through that gate!” I shouted loud enough for everyone to hear. “The Feeders aren’t coming from over there. I think we could be safe!”

  “How do you know?” Vaughan demanded.

  Hendrix gave me a confused look, before he focused on the horde again.

  “It’s a hunch!” I didn’t know how to explain it to them. This wasn’t exactly the most conversation-friendly environment. I needed more time and more energy. “I just know!”

  “We need real answers!” Nelson bellowed. “Not hunches.”

  “Throw something over the wall. I’ll prove it!”

  We kept up our defense while the Zombies assault never backed down. It took another couple of minutes before anyone moved to prove anything. I had resigned myself to finding a different way when Vaughan and Harrison picked up a dead Feeder and threw it over the gate.

  Bang.

  One shot this time. But somebody was over there. We weren’t alone.

  “Ah!” King shouted just before he let out a barrage of bullets. “My arm!” he screamed at whatever had managed to get him.

  “Did it get you?” Vaughan demanded quickly.

  King sounded shaken up when he answered, “Just with its freaking long fingernails.”

  I heard Haley let out a gasping sob. She couldn’t take much more of this. Lennon was in danger.

  “Get through that gate!” I shouted at Vaughan. “We have to do something!”

  Through the deafening sounds of gunfire and Zombies moaning, I heard the rattling of chains and screeching of rusted metal. Adela started shouting in Spanish, her words rushed and desperate. She smacked her hand on the wall over and over until her voice had gone hoarse and tears streaked down her cheeks.

  There wasn’t another option. There had to be somebody on the other side of the gate.

  I swapped out my third weapon and started counting bullets. I couldn’t afford to go through another gun. I had more magazines in my bag, but it was quicker to grab an already loaded weapon. I would get to the extra magazines later.

  Our supplies were a third of what they were when we started. Tonight would wipe us out completely and we weren’t even through the city yet.

  “Please,” I whispered.

  Something hard hit me in the shoulder and my shot went wild. I screamed out in pain, afraid I had been accidentally shot.

  Another hit to my cheek and I felt warm blood track down my face. A rock? They were throwing rocks?

  Those bastards!

  I focused on killing whatever was throwing rocks at me, but then one hit me in the forehead and I dropped my face into my hand by instinct, cradling my bloodied
skin gently.

  “Reagan!” Hendrix shouted in warning.

  I looked up and it felt like slow motion. A Feeder dropped from the roof of the van on top of me. Adela continued to scream in the background, begging for help while my friends blasted my enemies with all that they had.

  I was dead though.

  I had lost focus and managed to get myself killed.

  Or that’s what would have happened if I weren’t dating the freaking action hero of the Zombie Apocalypse. Hendrix shot the asshole in the back of the head and we landed on the ground in a tangle of dead and living limbs.

  My gun was beneath me and I wrestled the dead creature to pull my arms free. When I flipped over another one stood over me, salivating black ooze and reeking of death. I lifted my straightened arms and pulled the trigger.

  Nothing happened.

  My damn gun had jammed from the thick mud and whatever else I was crawling around in. Shit!

  Shit-shit-shit!!!

  I grabbed for my messenger bag, but it was twisted beneath me. I flopped backward, trying to get to my weapons, but the Feeder sprung for me before I could.

  I threw my arms up and rolled out of the way. It landed next to me, face first in the soppy ground. Its teeth gnashed at the sludge and its shaking head sprayed the dark goop everywhere. I managed to get to my side and twist around at the same time I kicked out at the Feeders head.

  It snapped at my shoe while I kicked it again. Hendrix shouted something at me, but his words didn’t penetrate my thick cloud of panic. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see he was involved in his own struggle on the ground.

  My heart sped faster than it ever had before. It beat at my chest with a frantic rhythm, urging me on, demanding that I survive.

  My clothes were thick with mud from rolling around on the ground and it made my movements sluggish and delayed. I kept kicking the Feeder, hoping I could break through his fragile skull.

  He latched onto the sole of my boot and ripped at it, thinking it was flesh. His sharp teeth cut deep into the rubber and I swear I could feel the heat of his mouth on the sole of my foot.

  I finally pulled out a gun and carefully kept it away from the mud. But my fingers were layered with the mire and I was afraid I would jam this one too. I tugged my foot back and pulled the trigger at the same time. When his head flopped to the ground, I nearly cried from relief.

  But I didn’t have the time.

  I jerked into sitting and then to my knees so I could get a good shot at the Feeder trying to eat Hendrix’s face. He had his backpack shoved in the creature’s mouth, holding those deadly teeth at bay.

  I heard the fabric rip and tear as the Feeder fought to get to Hendrix. I took a steadying breath and pulled the trigger. Mine was the only gunshot I heard over the beating of my heart.

  The Zombie collapsed on top of Hendrix, limp and lifeless.

  Reagan!” Adela’s scream finally penetrated my haze of adrenaline. “Ven conmigo!”

  I looked up slowly, slower than I should have. She stood sandwiched in the open gate, holding out her hand. Vaughan, King, Harrison and Miller flanked the opening on either side, waiting for Hendrix and me. Haley, Lennon, Page and Tyler were nowhere to be found.

  Thank, God.

  My thigh throbbed. I couldn’t ignore the pain anymore. I tried to stand up, but my shaking leg gave out and I splashed in goopy mud.

  Hendrix held out his hand and I reached for it weakly. He grabbed onto me and pulled me to his chest. We were close to the opening, closer than I realized. Without getting up, he pulled me with him through the gate. The rest of his brothers followed and the gate slammed shut.

  Hendrix dropped back on the ground and I went with him, too weak and too traumatized to do anything but lie on his chest and listen to his heartbeat return to normal.

  Hendrix’s hand settled on my back and pressed me into him. His touch was strong and possessive, familiar and determined. His other hand reached up to cradle my cheek and I closed my eyes against the intense relief that zinged through my body.

  Fists and open palms hit at the gate, but nothing tried to climb over or drop down on us. There was some kind of invisible barrier that kept the Zombies on the other side. I didn’t care what it was. All I could get my brain to do was acknowledge that we were alive.

  That we had survived.

  But my brain knew better. My experience knew better. Just because there weren’t Zombies trying to eat us, didn’t mean we were out of the woods yet.

  I opened my eyes to find us circled and at gunpoint. No surprise there.

  Hendrix softened his hold on me and helped me to sit. Vaughan and Harrison held out their hands to us and pulled us up.

  It wasn’t until I was at my full height that I realized something was off… like, I was taller than the people pointing their guns at us.

  The sun had started to rise in the east. It peeked over distant mountaintops and shed pink light on our new surroundings.

  The setting hadn’t changed. We were still deep in the slums. The muddy roads leading in every direction from this point were littered with garbage and filth. No bodies lay on this side of the gate though. No dead contaminated an already toxic prison.

  This side of the gate was inhabited by the living. The housing was still in terrible shape, but clearly lived in. Where we had driven through before had been boarded up and abandoned. These homes held families.

  No, wait… They held children by the looks of it.

  Our captors were nothing more than teenagers, maybe Miller’s age or a little older. Thick dirt caked their small faces and their ragged clothing. Their bodies were incredibly thin and emaciated. They had been poor and underfed before the infection, now they were survivors enduring the worst quality of life.

  Yet, the Zombies didn’t dare cross through their barricade.

  Their hands were steady on their weapons and their faces were masks of determination. This children’s army had experience with Feeders and with outsiders. I could see how quickly they would end us if we crossed a line.

  They valued our lives as little as the Feeders they kept out.

  One of them stepped forward. He was barefoot and knobby-kneed. His black eyes peered out from behind ratted hair and his jaw was set to mean business.

  He started shouting in Spanish. I didn’t catch a single word he said. Adela stepped forward and let him focus on her. Thank God for this girl or we would be so screwed.

  When she answered him, her voice remained calm and maternal. I looked around and searched for parents or guardians or anyone that could take care of these children.

  There was no one.

  At least no one that was willing to show his face.

  When the boy spoke again, he had calmed some. Adela replied quickly, gesturing to us. This time I understood a little of what she said. She told them that we were Americans and that we only spoke English.

  She had this conversation so often over the last three weeks that I was pretty sure I could give the speech myself.

  “Americans?” the boy said, a grin lighting his filthy face. Yellow teeth flashed at us as he surveyed our group with new eyes.

  Adela went off again in rapid Spanish. She seemed more urgent this time. Whatever the boy had assumed about us, Adela had decided that he was wrong.

  His face immediately lost the new light and his scowl returned. When he spoke again, it was with a tilted chin and clear defiance.

  “What does he want, Adela?” Vaughan asked with a gentle tone. He could read the kid too.

  She glanced at us over her shoulder and explained to the boy that she was going to start translating for us. He jerked his head to the side in a gesture of permission.

  “He thought we were here to rescue them.” Her explanation hit me hard in the stomach. All of the wind rushed out of me in an empathetic wince. “He thought…” Her voice broke as she finished her translation. “He thought America had finally arrived to get rid of their monsters.”

  �
�Where are their parents?” My voice rasped with my emotion. I couldn’t imagine this had ever been a great place to live. The trash that littered these streets was not new, not even in the last three years kind of new. These kids had been born in one of the poorest places on earth. They faced extreme poverty, no food, no clean water, no medical services as well as drugs and sex-trafficking from the very beginning. And if that wasn’t enough, their homes had been overrun by Feeders.

  “Dead,” she explained. “Most of the grownups are dead. There are more of these kids at each of the walls to their fortress. There is someone in charge named… er, they call him the Rat King. Rata we say. Rey de la Rata. They protect him. And they protect their home.”

  “The Feeders stay out?” Hendrix asked, half in awe of that possibility and half disgusted by the circumstances.

  Adela translated Hendrix’s question and when the boy replied, he used lots of angry hand motions and shooting sounds.

  “He says that they taught the Dead to stay out. They shoot them if they cross over and so they learned to keep away from their town, La Ciudad de las Ratas.” Adela’s tone conveyed her pain. We all felt for these children that called themselves rats. They were maybe fourteen at the most and many of them were younger. Adela translated for the leader when he spoke again. “He wants to know why we would come here if we aren’t going to rescue them. He doesn’t understand why we would come to where there are Dead.”

  “Doesn’t he know?” Nelson stepped forward. He looked up and down the street with new shock. “They have no idea, do they? They don’t realize this happened to the rest of the world?”

  “Only the rest of the world hasn’t taught the Feeders boundaries yet. That is something they’ve done all on their own,” Vaughan pointed out. “Tell them, Adela. Tell them what everything is like.”

  Adela launched into her explanation of the infection and what played out after that. The kids crowded around her with wide eyes and horrified expressions. One of the girls started weeping. She dropped to her knees and rocked back and forth, clawing at the mud while she sobbed.