He didn’t hear me or didn’t care as he lunged at me, but this time I caught him. Our arms locked together as he spun me around the room trying to regain the upper hand. I knew his strength wouldn’t last long, but we didn’t have the time. We spun around the room like two wounded dancers. The flashlight’s spotlight silently following us in the darkness. Again, I felt like I was in space. Everything seemed to move in slow motion until suddenly we were both jerked downward.
The kid was gone. His disappearance pulled me to the ground, and I hit my jaw on a ledge. In a weird transfer of states, I was now seeing white. What had happened? There was a loud crash below me, but I couldn’t see anything. I could feel that I was now lying on the ground and on the edge of the floor. My arms hung down below me over the edge. I now realized we were on the second floor of the building, but had the floor given way over the years?
Slowly my vision started to return to the usual darkness, and I could see a light behind me come into the room. The dim light illuminating a tear in my jacket, the search and rescue patch was missing.
California set his rifle on the ground next me and helped me roll over.
“You ok, Captain?” he asked.
I didn’t answer, but I looked at my left hand and saw the mixture of dried and flesh blood on it from the kid. California saw it too.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Downstairs,” I answered. “He’s downstairs.”
“The stairs are blocked.”
I sat up and grabbed my rifle that had landed next to me. I pointed it over the ledge to see if I could jump. The drop was a good twenty feet. The platform we were on was above an auditorium and below us was the stage. Piled high in the center of the stage were hundreds of old rusty metal folding chairs in what appeared to be a macabre barricade. I explored the auditorium with the flashlight, but I didn’t see the kid. The drop was too high, we would need to go around.
“Help me up,” I asked California. He reached out his arm and helped pull me up. “Let’s go, we can still catch him.”
We headed back into the hallway. The cause of the bird’s silence outside earlier were now staring us directly in the face, two zombies.
Chapter 16
The two zombies stood in the door like a couple of confused animals. There were only two of them, but I knew there were more close by. What I didn’t know, however, was if these two had been drawn by the noise or if they were part of the larger group headed toward the camp. They looked like they had seen some years on them. Their skin was shrink wrapped to their bones, their hair was like cobwebs on their heads, and their eyes were almost non-existent. The clothes that they had been wearing when they were turned were nothing now, fusing with their dehydrated skin or disintegrating completely, they were essentially naked.
I turned my head toward California, and he returned the look, agreeing with me in what we had to do. At the same time, we both raised our weapons and dispatched the two zombies with one shot each. Their bodies crumpled underneath them.
Not wanting to be cornered in the hallway we quickly made our way out of the door and back onto the basketball court. It seemed that not only had our time run out, but we were operating on borrowed time. Just to our left heading right toward us and the camp were thousands of zombies. Each one was in various states of decay. What was most troubling were the fresh faces. Newly turned, and they constituted a majority of the horde. We could outrun them for a little bit, but they would catch us eventually and we would never be able to stop them, we would need a bigger force. This was our proof. There was plenty of ammo and personnel at the camp, but if we didn’t get back and warn them, they could easily be over run.
I felt a tugging at my jump suit that pulled me back to reality. California was urging me to move along. All of a sudden one of them was on me. I quickly raised my rifle and squeezed the trigger. The bullet removed the right half of its face, it spun and fell to the ground, no longer a threat. I turned and followed California.
We followed the building for a few hundred feet until it finally ended, but we were met with a gated entrance that was barricaded years ago. We could have climbed it, but at the top was a large awning that jutted out too far for us to grab hold.
“Keep moving,” California shouted from ahead of me.
On the other side of the gate was another large building that had letters affixed to the outside. Some had worn away or were destroyed long ago, but I could make out that it said “administration.” I saw that front doors were barricaded just like the gate. I was beginning to realize that a group of people had used this as a fortress some time ago, but there was no sign of them now.
At the end of the administration building was a large concrete staircase leading down a level. We turned the corner and were met with more zombies clumsily making their way up the stairs. It was a smaller group that was heading right for us. Even though they were having difficulty with the stairs they were still a threat. We had enough time to take calculated shots and conserve ammo. Each one a headshot, about twenty in all. Once they had all been dealt with, we continued down the stairs, jumping over the carcasses.
“Where’s the fucking entrance to this place?” I yelled to California.
“This way,” he answered as he turned another corner.
At the bottom of the stairs was a square courtyard with another gated entrance, this one, however, had been blown open and we were able to gain access to whatever lay beyond.
The gate had opened up into yet another courtyard, this one was enormous in size. A cement landing was extending from the back side of the blocked gate. On our side of the landing was the back side of the administration building. It was two stories tall with large openings that were once filled with panes of glass. Inside there were rows and rows of old worn books. Because the glass was gone nature had started to reclaim the building, but someone had done their best to keep the inside clear.
On the far side of the courtyard was what we were looking for, the building where the kid was at, a large theater. On the bottom floor of that building I could see a long hallway with more large windows that were by some miracle not broken.
The concrete landing had concrete stairs that led to a large grass area. There were several buildings that circled the grass area. There were benches and various other pieces of debris scattered throughout the area. I noticed a few cars as well. And they were all being swarmed by zombies.
The entire grass area was filled with zombies. All heading in our direction. It would’ve been an easy jog over to the glass corridor had there not been an impenetrable wall of zombies in our path. By now the horde we had encountered had made its way to the stairs so there was no going back. In fact, I could hear behind us that they had reached the square courtyard at the bottom of the stairs.
“What do we do?” California asked with a defeated tone.
I looked around at the enclosing horde of zombies. There was no way we could take them all out, even if we could hit each one in the head, we simply didn’t have enough ammo. It was a dire situation. Did we just sacrifice ourselves for a moot point? Was all of this a waste?
I reached into my right pocket and pulled out the flare gun. There was only one round and it was a long shot if it was going to work. I looked out at the advancing horde, most were flowing through a large gate on the far side of the grass area, there were others flowing in through various other openings, some were starting to make their way onto the concrete landing, the way we needed to go, but there was a chance we could make it through. It was a chance we had to take.
I placed my hand on California’s shoulder to get his attention. “How much ammo do you have?”
“Five rounds in here,” he said lifting up his rifle slightly then checked his vest. “Two full mags.”
“Follow my lead.”
I raised the flare gun into the air and fired the flare. It soared high into the air. Even in the daylight you could see the bright flare burning. If someone was watching they would b
e able to find our approximate location. Most of the zombies watched the flare as it floated overhead, leaving a smoke trail in its path. While they had their gazes fixed on the flare, we made a break for the theater building.
The flare only gave us a moment of reprieve as the second it burnt out; they were back on us. We did our best to eliminate the zombies directly in our path, but they seemed to fill the gaps almost immediately. We made it to the steps of the landing before they had completely blocked our path.
Fighting close combat with zombies was dangerous. At any moment one could sneak up on you and take you out. Trying to conserve ammo I used the butt of my rifle as much as possible to brain the zombies.
California and I backed up to each other and created a bubble as we fought our way across the landing. Zombie heads were exploding left and right as we fired into the horde trying to keep them as far away as possible. I shot one in the neck and its head popped off and landed at its feet, the body falling limp to the ground.
“Reloading,” I shouted and simultaneously we both paused. In one smooth motion I popped the spent magazine out of the rifle and popped a new one in before the old one hit the ground. The bolt snapped into place and I fired a round into the left eye of a zombie that tried to take advantage of the lull in machine gun fire. We started moving again.
The zombies were tripping over the bodies of their fallen comrades as they tried to advance toward us. This aided in our battle a little, but it wasn’t slowing them down much. It wasn’t long until the magazine I had just replaced was empty as well. I ejected it.
“Last one,” I said.
I turned my head to check on California. We were at the edge of the landing now and there was no sign of the horde thinning out. The look on California’s face was dire and it probably echoed mine. He turned real quick to gauge the situation then nodded for me to follow. I had no idea what he had planned.
In a quick movement he flipped his rifle around and raised it up over his head. A zombie approaching him directly in front was the recipient of a violent swing of the rifle. The zombie was one of the fresher ones and was still rather meaty and bigger than the rest, most likely turned within the last month. The butt of the gun hit the zombie square in the temple and the force ripped the head from the neck. Some sinew had remained attached and the head dangled in front of its chest. Its arms went limp and dropped to its sides, but before the body could fall to the ground California raised up his leg and kicked it square in the chest. The young zombie went tumbling back into the more brittle and older infected ones knocking them down the steps in a dominoes fashion clearing a path.
“Come on,” California said darting through the path. I followed right behind.
The path to the theater building was almost clear, but the horde was still approaching from all sides. Zombies had crowded up against the glass that lined the corridor of the theater building. They were banging on the glass trying to get in. They must have spotted the kid.
California reached the set of double doors that flanked the box office. He yanked on them and to no one’s surprise, they were locked.
“Fuck,” California said and slapped the door in anger. “I could break the glass.”
I had my back to him as I watched for attacking zombies. I glanced back to see what he was talking about and saw that there was a rectangle of glass on each door. Breaking it would take some time because they were lined with a security mesh.
“It’s no use,” I said.
Then a faint sound floated through the cracks in the doors. Had the zombies finally gotten into the corridor? We paused for a tense moment. Then it came again. We both looked at each at the same instant and new what the sound was.
“Help.”
In a moment of panic California tried to smash the glass. It cracked, but he instantly realized what he was doing and that it wouldn’t work. He then aimed the rifle at the lock and squeezed the trigger. Only two rounds came out.
“Shit,” he said. “I’m out.”
I looked at the lock and saw the two dents the rounds had made on the lock. We could do it, but it was going to take more than that to get through the big security locks.
“Move,” I said as I turned and aimed my rifle at the lock and squeezed the trigger.
Almost a full magazine emptied itself into the lock and shredded it. I reached out and yanked the door open. The rusted hinge wailed loudly as it opened. California rushed in and I followed, grabbing a hold of the handle on the inside to slam the door shut. I ejected the mag on and jammed the rifle between the two handles. Almost immediately they started pulling on the doors trying to get it. It was weak, but hopefully it would hold the horde long enough.
Just inside the doors to the right was the corridor and the large windows we could see from the landing. The horde on the outside were smashing themselves up against the glass like rabid fans at a rock concert. They had their attention fixed on something at the other end. In a sprint I headed to the corridor.
I could literally feel my heart break at what I found as I rounded the corner. It was the kid, motionless and propped up against the wall. His head was tilted to his right and his eyes were closed. He sat in a pool of blood that was originating from his hip. There was also a trail of blood leading through a doorway on his left. A small rusty bar was resting in his open hand.
It felt like the corridor was never ending as I ran toward him, like I was in a dream, running and yet never moving. I didn’t even take time to stop when I reached him, sliding on my knees through the blood.
I had come across an untold number of scenes like this when I was in the fire department. Even after the virus spread, I always knew what to do when someone was injured. Now this knowledge escaped me.
“No. No. No. No. No.” I repeated as I placed my hand on the wound on his hip trying to stop the blood from seeping out, even though it was already all over the floor. I checked for a pulse, not knowing what I was expecting.
I could feel California behind me. He wasn’t doing anything, just letting me do what I needed to do. I knew it was futile. I had failed again. I sat back down in the blood. The horde outside were banging on the glass harder and harder now, eager to get a hold of the two new pieces of meat on the other side of the glass.
Tears started to roll down my cheeks as I began to think about where we had ended up. We had wasted our time. Maybe California was right, the right thing to do was probably stay at the camp and help against the approaching horde. Now, the camp would have no warning at all, and they would all be killed. Instead of staying back and protecting them I ran into the face of danger and jeopardized them all.
“There’s nothing you could have done, Captain,” California said.
“Maybe not for him,” I said. “But there are hundreds of others at camp that could’ve used our help.”
“There’s plenty of people there that can help the camp. This kid, right here, needed your help. Maybe not to be saved, but to be returned home.”
I noticed in the kid’s hand was a piece of crumpled cloth. I reached over and pulled it out. It was the patch he had torn from my suit when he fell. I stared at it, contemplating its meaning. What good was the symbol if people like Larson were taking advantage of it? Luckily this kid never new about that.
“You ever thought about what it would’ve been like if we had taken the easy path?” I asked.
“We wouldn’t be here, that’s for sure,” California said with a chuckle.
I returned the chuckle, but mine was more cynical. “You’re probably right.”
“This world would also probably be a worse place if it wasn’t for what we do. Or what anyone at the camp does for that matter.”
I was looking at the kid now. So peaceful.
“We didn’t choose this life,” California said. “It was handed to us. You can either accept that and do the best you can, or you can’t. Simple as that.”
He sat down with his back to the zombies. They were still beating at the glass and fra
ctures continued to work their way across the surface. We had some time, but they would be through it shortly.
I reached down a brushed the pipe out of the kid’s right hand and grabbed his wrist, placing his hand in his lap. I did the same with his other hand. To say goodbye and make amends I placed my hand on his chest over his heart. There was something hard underneath his jacket. Curious I reached inside and found a small leather journal, just like the ones at the house.
There was some blood on it, so I wiped it away. Thumbing through it I could see that it detailed, almost daily, the entire time the kid was alone in that house. It broke my heart that he was alone so close to the camp. How had the patrols never come across him? It became clear quickly that he was looking for them. The last page is what tore me up the most and, ironically, made me ok with the fate that California and I were about to suffer.
He apologized. It was through no fault of his own that he was in this situation and he was apologizing to us. The two of us here in this room now. This kid who had never met us and for a while, to him at least, was defending his life against us, was apologizing. There was no need to apologize to us. If anything, we should be apologizing to him. If we had just announced ourselves from the beginning, we could have taken him back to the camp for medical attention and we wouldn’t be in this position. And then, there was one more line, “thank you.”
We were just doing our jobs, or what we were good at. And really, I enjoyed it, I can’t speak for anyone else, but I did enjoy it. In a world this shitty we were supplying a level of hope these people didn’t have and desperately needed. Not because we had to, but because we wanted to, we needed to. These people deserved a better shot and making this world right again. The last thing any of us did this for was the “thank yous,” but for some reason that made it all right. I was ok now. The tears had stopped, and I was ready to accept whatever was coming through those windows. I placed the book into my vest pocket and leaned up against the wall next to the kid. California looked into my eyes with content as well.
Wanderer (Book 2): Hunters Page 17