by Max Danzig
She hit the fat zombie at just over thirty miles per hour. The body made a loud BONK, flew forty feet down the road landing in rolling heap. Kendra drove over the body, making the truck buck, but she never lost control. Now she knew what to expect going forward.
Kendra stopped the BearCat up the road. “Stay here and be ready just in case,” she said and jumped out of the truck before Steve could ask a question.
Steve watched Kendra inspecting the front of the tall truck. She disappeared from view for a few seconds before popping back into view and re-entering the truck and driving away.
“Not a scratch or dent on her,” Kendra said. “The only thing is a big grease spot on the metal where the body impacted.”
“That was… intense. This truck’s a beast.” Steve said.
By the time they reached the highway the light was fading to dusk.
“Kendra, adjust your speed. The walkers and wrecked cars are a lot harder to see in the dark.” Stephen said.
“The BearCat has it handled,” She said, flipping a switch. An array of bright lights on the front of the truck cut a swath through the increasing gloom. In the truck, the dashboard and a computer screen lit up like a command center.
“Oh cool,” Steve said reaching into his pocket. “It even has a recharge port and cord for my phone.” He took a cord from a console slot and hooked up his phone to the charging port.
“You going to call someone?” Kendra asked.
“Maybe, but I want to video some of this so we can show people when we get to the Safe Zone,” Steve said.
“Whoa, what are you talking about? I told you they have orders to kill anyone crossing over from the Quarantine Zone.” Kendra said.
“There’s got to be a gap, some rural out of the way place we can get through with no one noticing. That border has to be thousands of miles long, they can’t patrol it all. They can’t even do that with Mexico. Besides, do you want to stay in this hell? Don’t you want to go to Tennessee and see your brother? I know if I had any family in the Safe Zone, I’d try to get there. What’s to lose? If we stay up in this area, the chances are good we’ll die anyway, so why not try to get somewhere we might live?” Steve said.
Kendra didn’t answer. She wasn’t in the habit of disobeying orders or laws, but she couldn’t find much fault with his logic. Besides, she had already entertained thoughts of sneaking through the lines to find her little brother before Steve ever said anything.
“Steve,” Kendra said. “Since we’re on the highway, I want you to familiarize yourself with the weapons. Put on the hearing protection we brought, and fire a few rounds from each of the gun ports and the hatch. This way you’ll have familiarity if we get into serious shit and you’ll know what to expect. Also, if any walkers are near, target them. Try your best to hit them in the head.”
Steve needed no further encouragement. He got out of his seat, grabbed ear protection for himself and handed another to Kendra.
“Oh, and Steve,” Kendra said shooting him a serious sideways glance. “Try not to shoot me or yourself in the process, okay?”
Steve grinned, grabbed a Colt carbine, and opened the roof hatch.
Chapter 59
It took an eternity for darkness to descend. As the grey light faded to black, Rachel didn’t want to move or make a sound. She didn't dare risk making any noise that would provoke a terrifying response from the crowds of corpses surrounding the house, but she had to know.
Careful not to make any unnecessary noise, Rachel stood up and walked over to the window. She looked out over the yard. The seething shadowy mass of bodies remained. It looked like an endless sea of bobbing, rotting heads. Hundreds of them wandered around in front of the house and in the farmyard inside their failed barrier enclosure.
“Has it gotten any better?” Peter asked from the shadows behind her, startling her. She spun around to see him get up from his seat.
“They're still here,” she replied with her heart thumping in her chest. “They're still coming.”
“I'm sorry,” he said, his voice low, sensing he startled her. “I didn't mean to startle you.”
She nodded then looked out of the window again.
“Do you think they know we're in here?” she asked.
“I'm not sure, but I think they can sense us,” he answered.
“But what do they want from us?”
Peter looked away into the darkness of the room, not sure what to say. He turned, went to Rachel and put his arms around her.
“We’ll get out of this,” he assured. “Will you be okay?”
“I'm okay,” she replied, but not making eye contact.
“You sure?” he pressed, not convinced.
She shook her head and her eyes filled with stinging tears. “No,” she admitted, reaching out and grabbing hold of him. She pulled him closer and buried her face in his chest. “I don't think we will get away from this place, or those things.”
“It’ll be okay,” he said and with no conviction in his words.
“You keep saying that,” she sobbed. “You keep saying that but you don't know for sure, do you?”
Peter knew she was right and didn't reply. Still holding onto Rachel, Peter said, “Come on, let’s put a few things together and get ready to leave.”
Rachel and Peter moved with deliberate caution as they packed a few belongings in a black plastic garbage bag and set it near the top of the stairs. They were careful to keep out of sight of the downstairs windows for fear of being seen through any gaps in the curtains, and this prevented them from getting their food supplies from the kitchen.
Peter and Rachel stood on the landing near the bedroom door and spoke to each other in whispers.
“How are you holding up?” he asked. Rachel's eyes looked tired and frightened in the half-light.
“I'm all right.”
“Did you get the stuff together you need?” Peter asked.
“I packed clothes and a few odds and ends in the bag with yours.”
“We need to get a few supplies from the kitchen to take with us.”
“How are we going to do that without those things seeing us? There are windows in every room.” Rachel said.
“I know.”
“It looks like we have to leave with what we've got.”
“At this point, I think we'll be lucky to get out of here with our lives,” Peter said.
“So what’s the plan?”
Peter shrugged his shoulders. “Leave with what we have and start again somewhere new,” he said. “We’ll do what we did when we got here. We'll find an even better place, get settled, and then find supplies.”
“But won't the same thing happen again?”
Peter didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say and just stared into her eyes. Rachel hoped Peter would say something encouraging and felt disappointed when he didn’t.
“Have you checked to see if any of them went away?” Rachel asked.
“It’s hard to tell,” he replied. “I’ve seen some of them leaving, but I’ve also seen movement on the road by the stream. It seems they’re heading this way.”
“They can't get inside, can they?” Rachel asked.
“I'm not so sure. Yesterday I never thought they'd get through the barrier. Now they have the house surrounded. It wouldn't matter how they got inside. They could break a window or the sheer weight of them could bust down the door. No matter how they got into the house, we’d be fucked.” Peter said.
“When are we going to do this, Peter?”
“Soon.” Is all he said. “I need a diversion to draw them into one area out front, so I can get to the generator shed.”
“What do you mean?” Rachel asked.
“They’re attracted by sounds and the living,” Peter said. “Think of the cars, and the generator. I need to create a noise or distraction in the front yard, so most of them gather there. It will give me enough time to get into the shed, get the generator started and get back in the house.”
>
“And then what?” Rachel asked clasping her hands in a nervous praying-like manner.
“With all the noise from the generator, they’ll flock to the shed like moths to a bulb,” Peter said. “There should be enough noise to mask our leaving from the front door and taking off in the Honda before they become aware of it.”
“Do you really think that’ll work?” Rachel asked full of new hope.
“In the current circumstances, it should work. It has to work.” Peter said. “I just need to come up with a way to make a noise in the front yard to create the diversion.”
Rachel walked over to a small nightstand by the bed picked something up and stood before Peter.
“Will this do?” Rachel said with the tip of her fingernail resting on the ‘Panic Alarm’ of the Honda’s key fob.
With a big grin Peter said, “Yes, I believe that’ll do the trick.”
Chapter 60
“Okay, here’s how it will work. You stay up here by the window and set off the panic alarm. The alarm should keep going for about a minute. It will attract the walkers and they’ll converge around the Honda and the front yard. I’ll be by the back door, and as soon as I see them clear out, I’ll make a run for the shed. You should only have to hit the panic button twice before I have the generator running and I’m back in the house.” Peter said.
“Won’t the noise attract all the others that left?” Rachel asked.
“I’m guessing it will, but once the generator is going, they’ll move towards the shed and gather in the back yard. While the generator has their attention, we’ll run to the Honda and get the hell out of here. We have to move fast. There’s no time to waste, we’ll take what we’ve got and go. Okay? You ready?” Peter said.
Too nervous to speak, Rachel nodded and felt a sudden urge to go to the bathroom. Peter was determined, his voice softened and his body relaxed. Rachel knew leaving was their only chance, but what lay ahead didn't make it any easier to accept. She watched as he zipped up his jacket and tightened the laces on his boots. Peter looked up and noticed the concern on her face.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded, but it was impossible to hide her fear. She was filled with dread, and she could hardly breathe. “Are you sure about this?” she asked.
“It’s our only chance,” he replied stepping up to her. “Meet me downstairs. As soon as I come in the back door, we’re leaving out the front and right for the Honda—no stopping.”
Peter placed his left hand gently against Rachel's cheek, leaned in and they met in a brief passionate kiss, flooding their bodies with the satisfying warmth of endorphins.
Peter stepped away looking at Rachel with his eyes large and dark.
“Let’s do this. Hit it.”
Rachel turned to the bedroom window, pointed the fob at the Honda and pushed the red panic alarm button. In seconds the Honda’s horn, and a siren blared, drowning out the sound of the zombies and cutting through the quiet of the countryside.
The headlights and parking lights flashed as bright beacons in a storm of monsters. The alarm attracted the zombies like hundreds of iron filings to a powerful magnet. Crowds of creatures mobbed the SUV, pressing frenzied into one another.
Fascinated with the spectacle, Rachel looked over her shoulder to where Peter stood, but he was gone.
Peter was by the back door window watching the shuffling ghouls file past, attracted by the sound of the alarms. In seconds all of them left the back yard. He watched as the shadowy silhouette of one of the pathetic creatures limped past, dragging a mangled leg. As soon as it had gone by he turned the key in the lock and pulled the door open trying to stay as quiet as he could. He held his breath as he slipped through the narrow gap and eased the door shut behind him.
The shed housing the generator was thirty feet away from where he stood. Peter turned side to side looking for any movement and dashed across the yard to the shed. He opened the door a crack and shined his compact flashlight to be sure nothing but the generator was in there. Satisfied, he slipped inside and stepped across the small space to the generator. The gusting wind caught the door and slammed it in the doorframe behind him with a loud bang.
“Shit,” Peter said under his breath. He could still hear the SUV alarm. He saw a note from Steve instructing them how to start the generator, taped to the wall.
“Make sure the fuel is topped off,” Peter read. He found the cap marked gas and unscrewed it. In the light cast by the flashlight, he could not see the fuel level in the tank. He held the small LED flashlight in his teeth and picked up an old metal five-gallon gas can, which was half full, but still heavy. Peter removed the screw cap and using both hands tilted the mouth of the can to the mouth of the generator gas tank. He tilted the can, and the gas gushed out splashing over the gas tank, the generator, and the floor at his feet.
“ammit!” he swore around the flashlight in his mouth. He tried again but before he knew it, the gas overflowed the tank and pooled on the floor again.
“odd ammit.” He swore again as he set the gas can on the ground and hastily replaced the screw cap on the generator gas tank. The gas vapors made him gasp for air and the smell assaulted his nose and there was an itching sensation at the back of his throat.
He took the flashlight out of his mouth and looked at the mess. “I don’t give a shit. Let’s get this fucker started and we’re outta here.” Peter turned his attention back to the note. “Okay, pump the primer valve three times, and then pull the starter cord.”
Peter pumped the primer three times, grabbed the starter cord handle and pulled. He heard the wind catch the door and make it bang again. The old generator burst into life with a deafening mechanical roar. The bare bulb next to the door flickered to life.
“Time to go,” Peter murmured, turned to run out of the shed and bumped into the corpse of a man missing half his face. Right behind that monster, two more grotesque figures were entering the shed.
Chapter 61
Frightened, Peter pushed off the ghoul in front of him making it fall, but the next one was already on him. He backpedaled, tripped over the gas can and landed hard on his ass. In a blind panic, Peter kicked and punched at the creatures coming for him until he regained his feet. As soon as he knocked one zombie down, the others were up and coming for him. He snatched up the heavy metal gas can and swung it at the monsters. With the cap off, gasoline spurted out of the can each time he connected with a monster, dousing them and himself in the process.
Peter knew he was running out of time and got fighting mad. He swung the can in a full arc hitting one zombie hard on the side of the head. It fell like a rag doll in an accompanying spray of gasoline. Another zombie crowded into him, clawed hands reaching for his neck. With no room to swing the can, he used it as a ram and shoved the creature hard against the wall next to the door.
The head of the creature crashed into the bare bulb shattering it. A spark ignited the gas soaked rags the zombie wore, and the creature lit up like a torch, but it kept coming for Peter.
The vapor heavy air exploded with a WHOOSH as a ball of fire engulfed the interior of the shed and everything in it.
Rachel had set the alarm off twice then went to the back door. She could hear the generator running and wondered why Peter wasn’t back yet. She looked out the back window to the open shed door and saw shadows moving in the light. Suddenly a fireball shot out of the shed doorway.
“PETER!” Rachel screamed fogging the glass.
A figure covered in flames burst from the shed and dropped to the ground rolling around wildly trying to put out the fire. Several zombies appeared from around the corner of the house and threw themselves on the smoldering figure.
With dawning horror, Rachel saw it was Peter. Smoke was coming off his jacket as he punched and kicked at the zombies, knocking them off him. Going on pure adrenaline Peter got to his feet and struggled towards the back door as more zombies came into the back yard attracted by the sound of the generator.
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br /> Peter fought like a man possessed. He reached out for the back door, it opened and Rachel grabbed his hand, noticing it felt swollen and wet. With a strength and determination she never knew she had, she dragged Peter back into the house.
Peter fell in a heap on the kitchen floor screaming in rage and agony. A scrawny bone-thin zombie tried following him in, but Rachel slammed the door shut with all her might and severed the creature’s hand just above the wrist. The gray, rotting hand fell to the floor with a knuckling thud. Rachel stepped away from the door to tend to Peter.
With Rachel looking at Peter on the floor, she didn’t notice that the door had not closed all the way. Rotting flesh and a ragged scrap of the plaid shirt the zombie was wearing when it lost its hand clogged the door latch mechanism.
Peter lay on the floor gasping for breath and crying out in pain.
“Oh my god Peter,” Rachel blurted assessing Peter’s injuries. There were smoldering holes in his jacket, and his jeans were burned and ragged. His exposed legs were raw, red, and blistered. Half of his hair was singed away along with his eyebrows. Blisters were forming on the right side of his face. Both of his hands were red and blackened in places with shocking bright patches where the skin had peeled away.
“Can you get up Peter, can you move?” Rachel said. “We’ve got to get out of here. I need to get you to a hospital where I can treat your injuries.”
“Yeah, I can move,” Peter said. “I’m just in a lot of fucking pain. Let’s get to the Honda. The shed's on fire and I don’t know…”
The back door was bumped from the outside. It popped open a few inches and the sounds of groaning monsters grew more intense. In an instant Rachel dove for the door just as it began to open wider. She slammed her body against the door, and the Honda’s panic alarm went off again.
“Rachel, what are you doing?” Peter said through gritted teeth.
Leaning against the door Rachel tore at her jacket pocket and dug out the key fob. She nearly fumbled the keys, caught them, found the panic alarm button and pressed. The alarm shut off with two loud bloops. “Sorry, it was in my pocket. It was an accident.” Rachel said as the door bounced against her as she leaned her body weight into it. “Peter the door won’t close, I can’t lock it, and I can’t hold it. There’s too many of them.”