“Maybe. It’s a good theory anyway.” Maybe her optimism died when men tried to break into their shelter. Or maybe it was witnessing the brutal beating of the pastor. Most likely it was due to the dejected look on the faces of people she passed on the road and the half-eaten dead that roamed the ditches.
Junior and Sissy rarely said more than a word or two, even when asked a question. What had they endured in the last month? Or Colton? He was as close-mouthed as a child at the dentist.
###
Colton stopped the motor home in front of the tackle shop and stared at the door hanging off the hinge. Chances are the store was cleared out, the owners moved on, and no zombies lingered. On the other hand, one of the face eating cannibals could be lying in wait for fresh blood.
“Are we going in?” Chalice leaned against his seat.
“I don’t know. It looks deserted.”
“We should check it out. I’ll leave Mychal to watch the younger ones. If they keep the motor home locked and stay quiet, they should be okay.”
“Maybe.” Colton cut the ignition. There might be stuff they needed in there. They couldn’t pass up any opportunity to forage for supplies. “We’ll have to make it fast.”
Chalice stood in front of Mychal and the others. “We need all of you to stay here and be quiet. There’s ammo in the gun, but don’t use it unless you have to. Colton and I will be back as soon as we can.” She gripped her brother’s shoulders. “If we don’t come back within thirty minutes, wait until those things are gone, then take the children out of here. Find other survivors.”
“You’ll be back.” Mychal’s voice quivered.
“I will.” Chalice grabbed her rifle.
Colton waited at the door and opened it just far enough to peer out. The world was silent. No planes, no cars, no birds. As if evil hovered in the grey sky and smothered everything good. “It’s clear.” He stepped out and held the door for Chalice. Weapons held at the ready, they approached the store.
With only two of them, Colton felt vulnerable. Even Mychal would have made him feel more secure and the boy was only fifteen. They made their way to the porch of the store and stopped again to listen. Nothing other than the wind through the trees.
“Let’s make this fast. Anything we can use for the future, anything for weapons, and food stuffs, warm clothing, any—”
“I get it.” Chalice slung her rifle strap over her shoulder. “My mother was a prepper, and my brother is a self-proclaimed expert on zombies. I probably know more about survival than you do.”
“Point taken.” He led the way inside. The shelves were full. Some of the stock lay on the floor, but for the most part, it didn’t look as if anyone had been there in quite awhile. Where were the owners? Nobody in their right mind would leave all these things behind.
He grabbed an empty box and started tossing in ammo, fishing gear, propane canisters, two axes, a couple of spears and a whole rack of seed packets.
Chalice loaded another box with canned goods and toilet paper. He supposed that was a necessity, especially if you were a girl. There were a couple of Mylar blankets, batteries… He froze at a shuffling sound from behind the store. Grabbing his box, he backed up. “Chalice…”
“I hear it.” She slung her rifle back around.
“No.” Colton set his box on the counter and pulled out an ax. “Guns are too noisy.”
“No, I can’t.” She shoved it back, her eyes too wide for her face. “I’d have to get too close.”
“You have, too. We’re a team. I can’t do this alone.”
“I can’t kill anyone.” Tears ran down her face.
“These aren’t people.” A door creaked open, banging by the wind. Colton relaxed. Nothing but…
Chalice screamed.
He whirled.
A moaning apparition of horror rushed at him, teeth gnashing, yellowed eyes wide. A tattered shirt hung over exposed ribs. A visible bite wound oozed on the man’s hip.
Colton raised his arms and let the axe fly. It buried into the zombie’s head, splashing brain matter and thick black blood onto the wall.
Colton turned and vomited over the counter.
“Was that Mr. Hastings?” Chalice lowered her weapon. “Where’s—” She gasped and dashed past him. He turned as she buried her axe in the zombie’s head.
The woman slumped over a rack of magazines. Colton wiped his mouth and retrieved the axes, wiping them clean on the dead woman’s skirt. “I guess we know why the store hasn’t been scavenged yet. Thanks for saving me. She would have bit me for sure.”
“I guess I can kill when the need arises.” Chalice sagged against the counter. She pointed over his shoulder again and wiped her tears on her shirt sleeve. “Mychal’s always wanted a bow and arrow, and it’s a quiet way of defending ourselves.”
Colton pulled down the two crossbows, and cleaned the store out of arrows. Only twenty, but maybe they’d find more somewhere down the road. His stomach still protested against the violence and disgust as they hefted their boxes and hurried back to the others.
He thought about taking all the food, but couldn’t. They were getting cramped in the motor home as it was and there might be other survivors coming later. They’d be hungry, too.
###
Mychal was thrilled with his bow. Chalice stored the axes around the trailer, hoping the places she chose would make the weapons within easy reach if they needed them. After witnessing the undead first hand, she feared for the condition of the trailer. Even a broken window could mean death for those inside. The way she used it to clear deserted vehicles might not be the wisest choice.
If a noise or a smell got out, the zombies would come. Not in one or two, but in hundreds. Her group needed to find other survivors, and fast. People with weapons. People who knew how to fight.
She plopped at the small dinette table in the camper while Colton maneuvered the vehicle down the road. Just over a month ago, her mother had shoved her down the cellar steps to save her life. Now, Chalice and her siblings were on the run from a nightmare, and they had extra children along. Chalice wasn’t an adult. She was a teenager, and she wanted to have the life of one. It wasn’t fair.
She folded her arms and rested her head. Exhaustion spread through her like a fog. She was tired, that was all. If she got some sleep, she’d feel better. Maybe she could forget the sight of the axe sticking out of a woman’s head. The thick dark blood. The stench of rot and death. The pain that went up her arm from the hardness of the woman’s skull.
No wonder Colton threw up. Walking dead or not, the woman had once been breathing, maybe somebody’s mother.
The plague had to have started with someone. If it was airborne then wouldn’t everyone have it? Or did it infect the people close to whatever facility had been destroyed and those people bit others? None of it made any sense.
“Did your mom get eaten?” Junior dropped onto the seat across from her.
Surprised at his finally speaking to her, Chalice stared at him for a moment before saying anything. His almost black eyes and coffee-colored skin contrasted with the retro pumpkin color of the seat. He was a cute kid with bright eyes and teeth that shown against his dark skin. Too bad he couldn’t enjoy being a kid.
Chalice shook her head. “No, she got hit with a meteor. There weren’t any zombies yet.” She didn’t think, anyway. She pushed aside the image of a charred woman coming out of her house. “What about yours?”
Tears filled his eyes. “We lived down by the river ‘cause Daddy thought we’d be safe there. Away from people. We thought zombies were only in the movies and that the sickness the government talked about was not as bad as they said it would be.” He sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “They came while we was fishing. One bit Mama’s face, then Daddy threw me and Sissy in the river before he picked up a big stick. Good thing we could swim, huh?”
“A really good thing.” Chalice cried with him, taking both his hands in hers. “I’m really glad you’re wit
h us.”
“Sissy’s scared.”
Chalice was, too. Very scared. “That’s okay. We’ll all take care of each other.”
“We have a problem!” Colton slowed the vehicle.
Chalice made her way to the front passenger seat and stared out the window. The Arkansas State line was blocked with every type of vehicle imaginable, and wandering in a nearby pasture was at least twenty zombies, stumbling around like blind cattle.
Chapter 8
“What do we do?” Chalice plopped in the passenger seat. “We can’t walk around that herd and barreling through all these cars might do more damage to the motor home than we can afford.”
“We don’t have a choice but to go through.” Colton glanced over his shoulder. “Tell everyone to buckle their seatbelts. Those things have seen us, and they’re coming.”
Hanna screamed and lay flat on one of the benches beside the table. Sissy dove under the bed covers. Junior was the only one who followed directions by sitting and buckling himself in. Mychal stood at the window, bow ready.
“Don’t waste your arrows,” Chalice told him. “We can’t retrieve them.”
“Gun?” He asked.
“Not unless we have to. Bullets are precious.” Chalice buckled her belt. “Get something to stab them in the head with.”
The ride was about to get bumpy. Already the chilling groans of the zombies were drifting through the window Mychal had rolled down an inch. Soon, they’d be pounding on the sides of the motor home with their dead hands.
“Are zombies smart enough to open doors?” She had no idea how much of their brain remained intact after infection.
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Colton pressed the gas pedal taking them on a slow crawl through a metal hell.
The motor home struck one car and a body tumbled out, its stomach ripped open and its head bashed in. More vehicles showed blood splatters and body parts, others sat empty, doors hanging open as if their occupants had fled in a hurry.
By the time they pushed through the first few cars, the zombies had reached the motor home. The groans and growls increased. Chalice felt as if she traveled through a herd of rabid lions, every one of them focused on her throat. They banged with amazing force on the windows and side of the motor home, leaving smeared hand prints.
One bloated man tried to bite through the glass, leaving his saliva dripping down the window. Chalice wanted to throw up, but to do so she would have to open a window. That wasn’t going to happen.
“We’re going to run over some them.” Colton increased the speed a little. “They’re darting out between the cars. I don’t think they’re very intelligent.”
If they didn’t travel in such large numbers, their stupidity would be a good thing. As it was, their lack of coherent thought and their insatiable appetite for blood, made them as dangerous, if not more so, than a pride of lions.
Chalice yanked a pistol from the glove box. If a zombie broke through her window, it would get a bullet right between the eyes. Hopefully, before it took a bite out of her arm.
The dogs’ barks echoed in the camper, making her ears hurt. Between their frantic barks and the eery groans, she wanted to put her hands over her ears and hide under the seat. “Mychal, shut those dogs up!”
Lady and Buster snapped at zombie fingers coming through the slightly open windows. Occasionally, they’d bite one off, letting the offending appendage drop to the floor.
The motor home lurched. Bile rose in Chalice’s stomach at the realization they’d ran over a body.
Colton continued forcing the motor home down Interstate 40. “We have to come up with a plan. There has to be a safe zone, somewhere, right?”
“I don’t know. We haven’t seen any people other than the gas station and the bikers.” Hope leaped in her chest. “Do you really think there might be a place full of survivors?”
“There has to be. We survived, didn’t we?” He shrugged. “I’m thinking that we’re spread far and thin though. The cities were probably hit the worse. I dread going through Oklahoma City. Could you see whether we have a map somewhere?”
Anything to take her mind off the grisly scene outside.
“Five!” Mychal shouted and held up a bloody barbeque skewer.
Gross. He kept poking the skewer through the window and into the eyes of any zombie that got to close. With each stab, the dogs barked shriller and Hanna screamed louder.
“Seven!”
“Stop counting.” Chalice pulled a map from the glove compartment. “It’s disgusting.”
“With every one I kill, that’s one less to kill someone else.” He jabbed another, the eyeball bursting like an overripe grape. His arm dripped with thick slime. “I can get to them, but they can’t get to me. You’d think they’d see their friends dying around them and back off.”
Did zombies even have friends? Chalice turned away from the carnage, wishing she could also shut out the sounds, and started to unfold the map. Instead, smoke rising in the distance caught her attention. “What’s that?”
“Might as well go see.” Colton wrenched the steering wheel, taking them down an access road and into a thick stand of trees. “It looks like it’s a couple of miles away. Hopefully, we can lose the dead following us. Most of the time, where there’s fire, there’s people.”
Chalice prayed the smoke was signs of survivors and not a burning building. She sat straighter in her seat, her gaze glued on the smoke column while her brother and the dogs finally settled down from lack of zombies to attack. The three younger kids huddled around the table as silent as night.
“I have no idea what’s out this direction,” she told Colton. “But have you noticed the absence of living people? I was underground for a month, how long were you hidden?”
“About that.” Paved road turned to dirt, and he put both hands on the wheel. “Maybe the living were able to clear out before then.”
“Or were all killed.” Chalice wrapped her arms around her middle. “There might be so few of the breathers left that we could travel for weeks without seeing anyone.”
He grinned at her. “Breathers. I like that. It sounds better than non-dead.”
“We need some adults. We can’t take care of these kids by ourselves.”
“Why not?” He glanced sideways at her. “We’re doing fine so far. People are going to grow up fast in this new world. What makes you think someone over the age of eighteen will be better equipped to survive than we are? We have food, water, a roof over our heads, and the ability to move across the country without walking.”
“Gas will eventually run out. How long until you can’t find a long enough hose to siphon with? Or what about when we run out of food and bullets?” A cloud of doom hung over Chalice’s head. She had no idea how to shake free. The future loomed without hope or promise.
If they could find survivors, a place to keep the zombies away, they could plant food and grow animals. Sure, electricity was out for the most part with no one around to run the equipment, but people managed in the olden days without powered lights and television. They could again.
She bent forward and put her arms around her knees, blinking to keep the tears from falling. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. She needed to be strong now and not emotional.
“Hey.” Colton squeezed her shoulder. “We’re going to be fine. I know it.”
###
The words were easy to say, not so easy to believe. Colton transferred his attention to driving. Over the last month or so, Mother Nature had tried to take back the dirt road, filling the grooves with weeds, and he couldn’t drive faster than five or ten miles per hour. They were probably wasting their time, anyway. What could possibly be this far out in the boonies?
Hanna hung out one of the open windows. Colton shook his head, watching her through the rearview mirror. He understood her reasoning, the motor home was stifling, but hanging outside was like ringing the dinner bell. “Back inside.”
She scrunched up her face
and plopped into a seat. “This is so boring!”
“Would you rather we were fighting zombies?” Mychal sat across from her, examining his arrows. “That’s exciting, but it’s also a fight to death. Someone has to lose., and I’d rather it weren’t me.”
“Oh, shut up.” She flounced to one of the beds and threw herself across it.
Colton grinned and transferred his full attention to the road ahead of them. A couple of non-breathers shuffled in the ditch, but didn’t pay overly much attention to the motor home. They actually looked as if they were deteriorating.
Was it possible that zombies could die out if unable to feed? He wished there were some way of testing that theory. Even without his medical books, Colton knew the body needed nourishment in order to thrive. Regardless of whether the brain refused to admit death, the body would eventually rot, right?
Once they found a place to settle, he’d build a cage or something and catch a zombie. If he could prove his theory correct, then all they had to do was stay alive long enough for the zombies to be unable to find a food source.
Hope rushed through him. He had a plan. Something other than just trying to stay alive and protect the others. He’d talk to Chalice about it all when they stopped for the night.
He glanced at her profile, amazed at how pretty yet tough she was. Admiration welled in him, surprising, since he couldn’t admit to ever admiring anyone before. He’d felt affection for one of his foster mothers, but other than that, people tended to disappoint him. When Chalice met him at gunpoint on that first day, she’d taken a piece of him he could never get back. He liked it.
They drove into a clearing. A chain link fence surrounded a brick building next to a substation. Clawing at the fence was at least thirty zombies. “Chalice.”
Colton wanted to cut the engine, knowing noise attracted the undead, but wasn’t sure whether to go or stay. Night was falling, and the gas gauge showed a quarter of a tank. He didn’t want to find a gas station in the dark. Not with these things wandering around.
The Darkening (A Zombie Awakening) Page 5