Way of the Undead

by Boggess, Michael

  Chapter 15 way of the undead

  Stepping around a small fence made from cut stones, a cool breeze began to blow, carrying a few leaves with it. As the cold night air became stronger, a foul stench whistled along with it from off in a small patch of woods. The group covered their faces—hurrying their steps to get their things. A trip back into town had now become a top priority. Once in front of the schoolhouse everyone stopped walking as the unmistakable sounds of leaves rustling and twigs breaking became prevalent—louder and louder.

  “Did you hear that?” Mark whispered. Steven stayed paused for a moment. “Yep!”

  All was quiet for a moment in the dark of night. “Run!” Tyler yelled as zombies began to appear out of the woods.

  Steven was the first to take off running back towards the school, with Tyler following. Mark reluctantly began to follow; back into the old schoolhouse was the last place he would have chosen to run. Steven and Tyler hustled up the steps, waiting by the door for Mark to finally arrive. Given a quick look back, the sight brought with it heavy apprehension, more and more zombies were now present, slowly following. Putrid-looking zombies from every direction angrily began to approach. Once back into the pitch-black schoolhouse they closed the door, hunting around for anything that might be used to help make a barricade. Mark and Steven moved a couple of tables out of the way before carrying a heavy wooden desk over in front of the door.

  “We need to cover the windows,” said Steven, searching the dark shack.

  Seconds later, banging and clawing began on the weakened wood door. Steven stood still, with the sounds of zombie hands outside increasing, becoming more and more persistent, and intense.

  “There must be a dozen of those things out there,” Steven said, trying not to make any noise.

  “There are at least twenty of those things. When I stopped and looked back—I counted nearly twenty. They had begun to come out from every direction,” Mark said, griping the handle of one of his revolvers tight.

  Steven walked over to the bookshelf and began sliding it in front of one of the only two windows in the building. Looking out, briefly, he was now face to face with a heavily bloodied—mangled face. Steven felt paralyzed. The zombie was only a few feet away. Steven eased away from the window. The zombie pressed closer to the dusty glass—looking in as it smeared blood on the glass. The zombies were aware that the small group had entered into the front of the schoolhouse. They continued clawing—hitting on the old wood—tearing small rotted chunks—eventually causing the buildings boards to further weaken, as their fingers scraped it to the bone. The pounding persisted for over five minutes. Boards continued coming loose at the nail, falling to the ground. Blood-covered zombies angered expressions could be seen through parts of the damage as they worked to destroy the building’s foundation.

  “What are we going to do? They have us trapped?” Tyler asked, staying low to the ground and out of sight.

  “We’ll just have to cross that bridge when we get there,” Mark whispered.

  While waiting for the inevitable fight to come, another few minutes passed with no sign of letting up. The zombie’s hands were bloody from having scraped and clawed the wood so deeply down for so long. Steven, from one of the small holes that was opened to the outside could see lights traveling towards them from off in the distance, and riding wistfully from down the small country dirt road.

  “Do you see that?”

  “Mark Look! We’re saved!” Tyler shouted in excitement.

  “Be quiet! You’re being too loud. Let’s wait and see who it is first. It could be a good thing; it could be a bad thing, we still need to be cautious,” Mark said, using every last minute he had left trying to ensure his brother was going to survive.

  The sounds of scratching began to let up as the lights approached, drawing near. From what anyone could tell, the zombies had begun to walk off, heading down the dusty dirt path towards the approaching lights. Gunshots started to sound. One shot could be heard right after the next.

  “It’s a group of hunters,” Mark said. “They’re heavily armed. We need to be cautious.”

  In the midst of the commotion, hooting and hollering seemed to coincide with the shotgun blasts.

  “Let’s go out there!” Tyler said as the gunshots began to die down.

  “Wait! We go out there now, were likely to get mistaken for one of those creatures and get our heads blown off,” Mark said. “Give it a minute.”

  “Yeah, let’s just wait,” said Steven, staring through a hole in the side of the schoolhouse.

  After the final shot was fired, it was time to attempt to get the hunters attention.

  Mark took the backend of his shotgun and smashed out the window. With each of the four-wheeler lights shining on the building, Mark yelled, “Hey! We’re in here. We need help.”

  With all of the zombies now dead at the group of hunter’s feet, the last of the men got down off of their four-wheelers. From what Mark could tell they were still being cautious. From within the building, Mark noticed what appeared to be the leader of the group signal his men to surround the schoolhouse.

  “Hay! Come on out where we can see you,” the leader of the group shouted.

  Steven looked over at Mark and nodded. Mark looked over at Tyler, signaling for him to follow as they moved the barricade they had placed in front of the door before stepping outside.

  With the four-wheelers high beams shinning directly on the porch, Mark, Steven, and Tyler, could barely see the hunters’ positions.

  “Are you all okay?” the leader asked, signaling for the spotlight to be turned off.

  “Yeah we’re great. We just had to bury our friend, but we’re fine,” Mark replied, loud enough for all of the hunters to hear.

  “I’m Thomas! That over there by the four-wheeler is Eric. That ugly feller over there with the rifle is Phil. Next to him is his brother Paul. Last but not least, my son Kevin.”

  “Nice to meet yawl, and thanks for the help. We were trapped… and they just kept coming. Must have been at least twenty of them,” Mark said, looking around at all of the dead.

  “No problem friend. Where are you headed?” Thomas asked, lowering the head of his shotgun.

  “Anywhere but here. Mostly just somewhere with lots of food and water… sheltered away from those things—somewhere near the college preferably.”

  “Stay far away from town my friend. Those creatures are there and in large numbers—growing by the hour. We just put down at least one hundred of those things—yet two-hundred sprung up.”

  “Thanks for the warning, but we need to get through to the college from town. We have friends that need our help.”

  Thomas looked around at his group of hunter’s. “Well, we can see that you get somewhere safe at least. I just think trying to make it onto that college campus is a bad idea though.”

  Mark began fighting the pain—enduring the constant stinging from the festering bite on his back.

  “I guess we’re ready,” Mark said, walking over to his motorcycle.

  “Well, hop on,” said Thomas. “Where exactly are you needing us to escort you?”

  “I’m thinking maybe the Parkway Plaza mini-mall. There’s plenty of food and it’s somewhat safe,” Mark said as he cranked up his bike and looked assumingly over at Steven.

  Over the loud roar of the bike, Thomas yelled, “We’ll follow you then.”

  Heading down the dark dusty trail, Mark and his new friends rode carefully down the old country road towards town. It was almost daylight. Steven could see the sun just slightly peaking over the furthest portion of mountain. Not a single person didn’t dread what town might have in store for them.

  “Why are we stopped?” Thomas asked, shutting off his four-wheeler—killing his headlight.

  Mark looked around at the heavy chaos, fires were now burning, people could be heard screaming as zombie hordes chased them from towns many luxury motels. From off in the distance, Mark could tell that things were
a lot worse than his first time through.

  “I think we will be okay from here on out,” Mark said. “You can drop us at this gas station down here.”

  “Alright then, to the gas station it is. But, from there you’re on your own. Once to the gas station, there’ll be zombies coming at us from almost every direction. I can guarantee it. Our only way out will be the one we had just come.”

  Mark started his motorcycle and gave the signal to follow, taking off down the hill to town. Almost to the gas station—a group of zombies jumped out from behind some bushes, almost causing Mark to lose control of his bike. Thomas was quickly following in behind him and clipped one of the creatures—shattering it’s leg into pieces—knocking it off to the side of the trail. The group sped on by the zombies, following the trail almost to the end near Jesse’s automotive shop. Entering onto the paved concrete parking lot—hordes of zombies were at the store waiting—with more and more zombies walking up from all directions. Slowly coming out from behind the building, over from off behind some trees, Mark pulled up near the entrance of the store and quickly jumped off his bike. As he stepped off he drew his two six-shooters and begun shooting. Mark’s precision was spot on, as he unloaded all six-bullets out of one of his six-shooters, allowing time for Thomas, Kevin, and Phil to get pulled in to allow Steven and Tyler to get off.

  Thomas quickly began unloading on the hordes of zombies coming near with the heavy power of his shotgun, knocking two to three zombies down at a time. Steven was armed only with the small handgun Mark had given him before leaving the school-house. Having never fired a weapon before—Steven cautiously stayed to the back of the lot—shooting only what would be considered a sure shot. Kevin was firing a semi-automatic rifle, using his military training to his advantage; with his friend Phil carrying a regular old hunting rifle and having to reluctantly take his time to reload after every few shots.

  “We’re losing ground,” Thomas shouted.

  Kevin took out a grenade from his pocket before pulling the pin and throwing it into a group of about eight zombies near the road. The explosive force splattered their body parts all over the lot.

  “Good shot,” Mark yelled, taking a minute to reload one of his six-shooters.

  The group began to see a slight break in the action. Off in the distance, just a few blocks down the road—huge fiery-explosions somewhat mirrored their own violence. The explosions were so close that the group could feel the ground shake from under them as the nearby store’s windows rattled.

  The sun had begun to come up, making it a little easier to see any approaching zombie. “Alright guy’s, if you need anything from in the store, now’s a good time to get it,” Thomas said, aiming his site on an approaching zombie’s head.

  Thomas pulled the trigger—shooting the zombie dead. With Thomas quickly putting more shells in his shotgun, Eric and Phil quickly stepped into the dim-store where they were immediately under attack. Entering the store so quickly had been a mistake. Out of the shadows—four bloodthirsty zombies came running at Phil, forcing him to fight them off with only punches and kicks. As Phil fought off one, he got bit by another. As Phil bled profusely, Eric quickly entered into the store, pulling out his pistol, one by one shooting the zombies in the head. Eric laid his friend down gently on the ground then took off running up and down the storefront near the registers checking for any more zombies. Eric walked back over to his hurt friend, who was now covered in blood with one of the zombies having left enough deep bite wounds to sever an artery. Crouching down, there wasn’t any doubt that the hunter had already begun to turn blue and was now going into shock.

  After a slow agonizing gurgling sound, the surprise attack had resulted in another life having been taken. Eric stood up and jumped over the counter—grabbing some large plastic bags. Eric started quickly putting cartons of cigarettes as well as fancy cigars in one of the bags, at the same time noticing that the gunfire from outside had started to increase significantly. Right before Eric was going to climb back over the counter, Phil stood up, staring at him with a dazed look in his eyes, dripping blood.

  “Hey man, are you okay?” Eric asked as he backed away from the counter.

  “Rrrah! it, the zombie roared, running and limping towards the register.

  Eric dropped his bags and cartons of cigarettes, taking a second to redraw his pistol. The killer zombie dived head first over the counter and was only inches away from attacking before a critical shot to the head at the last second brought the zombie down. Eric gathered up his smokes before climbing over the counter and walking around the store gathering up whatever food and supplies was left on his list. With Thomas’s men in the store gathering supplies, the group fended off the store from any remaining attacks. They’d blasted big gaping holes in over thirty zombies since entering into town. The hunters had stockpiles of ammo and wasn’t concerned about running out. On the other hand, Mark’s weapons were vintage and his rounds were getting less and less. The fighting had been fierce, and his worries of surviving another day in town were becoming more of a concern.

  The zombies numbers once again appeared to be dwindling. “Where did they all go?” Thomas asked, acting as if he was disappointed a little.

  Mark counted his remaining bullets in the holster of his belt and what was left in each chamber of his six-shooters.

  It was now daylight. And after about five minutes without a zombie attacking, the group rested further—loading their guns with more ammo and staying on guard just in case. With not much going on, Tyler climbed atop a large blue dumpster, trying to get a better view off down the street. From his vantage point, the zombies were preoccupied, although the fire and explosions on down might have been helping deter them.

  “We’re good! I think the zombies might be busy or afraid of the explosions,” Tyler said.

  Thomas walked over to the gas pump, looking down the road in both directions. “I think your right. I’ll stand guard. Who’s going to go check on my men?”

  “I will, I’m wanting a candy bar,” Tyler said.

  Once at the door, the dead zombies could be seen; however, there was nothing visible that could alert anyone of the death of Thomas’s friend Phil.

  Eric was gathering food into bags.

  “Phil’s dead,” Eric shouted from the back of the store, near the canned foods.

  “Damn! How’d it happen?” Tyler asked, looking over the dead bodies.

  Quickly tossing food into the bag, another sack became full of supplies. “We were rushed as soon as we walked in. Those freaks just tore into him, then I ended up shooting them dead.”

  Tyler stepped over to the candy isle, picking up a large candy bar.

  “Hey, help me carry some of this stuff out, if you don’t mind?” Eric asked.

  “Sure.”

  Tyler helped carry food and supplies to Eric’s four-wheeler, making more than one trip. Eric went on to tell Thomas and Kevin what had happened to Phil, angering the old hunter and his son. Mark and Steven hung out in the parking lot—watching for the slightest movement—listening for even the slightest sound. With Thomas and his men visibly upset at the loss of Phil, and with Mark and Steven occupied, Tyler decided to step back into the store for some supplies of his own. With the entire store to Tyler’s self, his mind raced. His stomach was growling and causing him to think irrationally, and with his stomach only. Stepping over top the zombie corpses, he rushed next to the trash bag isle to begin loading up on supplies. Tyler quickly turned the corner to the candy isle, loading up on junk food. With his sack half full, a loud thud could be heard coming from the back of the store. Tyler set his bag on the floor, stepping over to the window to check on the group before slowly walking towards the dark storage area. Tyler took ahold of the old shotgun being held to his back by a sling, bringing it from behind and around his shoulder back over his head before checking to see if it was ready to fire. The shotgun was down to only two shells from what he could tell. The back of the store was dark causing hi
m to nervously clutch his shotgun tighter. Tyler stood near the entrance, listening for noises.

  The noise once again came from the stockroom nearest to the stores restroom and freezer area. Tyler thought about going to get Mark, because he knew that Mark would disapprove of him going at it alone. Tyler believed he could handle anything at this point in his life. Kicking the restroom door open, Tyler aimed the barrel of his shotgun around, stepping into the darkness, seeing no one and hearing nothing. The restroom was unoccupied; the noises must have been coming from the central walk-in-freezer. Once at the large steel door he pulled down on the metal handle—entering quietly in shotgun first while continuing to be cautious. Bending down, Tyler propped open the large door by wedging it with a milk crate. With just barely enough daylight from up front to see, he quietly began inspecting.

  “Don’t hurt us!” a voice pleaded from behind a huge pallet of beverages.

  Tyler’s heart pounded.

  “Who’s there! Come out from behind there,” Tyler demanded—aiming his weapon over at the large stack of beverages.

  “Don’t shoot it’s just me and my sister. We ran over here when everyone started to change. Our parents got attacked. They held off a group of zombies to save us. We came from the Mountain View Hotel up the road a way.”

  “I’m Tyler, my brother Mark and friend Steven are outside waiting—you should come with us,” Tyler said urgently, beginning to wonder what was going on outside.

  Tyler and his new friends, a young, teenage brother and sister—now orphaned due to the outbreak grabbed Tyler’s bag of supplies and walked outside. He quickly noticed that Thomas, Kevin, and Eric’s four-wheelers were gone, realizing that they were serious about only taking everyone to the gas station.