“What’s that ahead?” DeAndre exclaimed from the front passenger seat.
Did you know that zombies could build roadblocks?
Neither did I.
A two foot high pile of tree trunks and boulders reached from one end of the street to the other, about fifty yards ahead of us. We were still in the little town, just on the outskirts, in fact, and those monsters had built a flippin’ road block.
There were more zombies coming out of the side streets, blocking us in, forcing our hand.
I felt myself grinding my teeth until they hurt, and gripping the seat back in front of me with a death grip.
It was an incredibly tense moment.
At the last minute, Dad cranked the wheel and shot down the right hand side street just before the roadblock. I felt the SUV start to tip onto two wheels as it struggled to maintain its grip on the road. Tires squealed, and we instinctively leaned to our right, into the turn.
After what seemed like forever, the tires touched down and found purchase, and the SUV jumped forward, zombies bouncing off the sides as it went. Dad floored it, and the vehicle shot down the street like it had been propelled by a slingshot.
It was like a roller coaster ride in the strongest vehicle we’d ever used, driven by the most bad-ass race car driver on the planet, going top speed through rough terrain and the world’s scariest obstacle course, all while being pursued by the hounds of hell themselves.
It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.
Dad was becoming adept at driving through this nightmare, adapting to the changing waves of monster flesh as it came from this direction, then that direction.
At one point, after swerving around a huge bunch of zombies that reached two stories tall, and bouncing off a smaller bunch to propel us back on course, I heard myself let out a “Whoop!” of excitement at the thrill of the ride.
______________
As we drove, the zombie horde started thinning out, until there were no more of the things in front of us. We sped down three more side streets and then hit the main road out of town. We’d gone about five miles on this route, without seeing any other zombies, when the road ended and Dad was forced to turned right down a seemingly deserted side street that curved down to the right and tilted downhill and then came to an abrupt dead end. Abandoned construction materials lay just beyond a solid looking wooden and steel barrier, waiting for a crew that would likely never show up to finish the job.
“Oh, man,” Dad said under his breath, bringing the vehicle to a stop against the left curb. He quickly executed a three point turn, and we were soon facing back the way we had come.
We idled there for ten seconds, facing the uphill curved street, and then started up it. As the SUV reached the top of the short hill, the view came into focus and we all saw what was there.
Dad cursed under his breath and looked to his right and left for an alternative way out.
Zach beside me ducked his head to get a better look out the front windshield. I was already hunched down to see better, and I couldn’t believe our bad luck.
Staring back at us was a crowd of about a hundred zombies, all just standing there staring at us, not growling, not yelling. Just standing there.
It was like a standoff.
We waited to see what they would do.
A gap of about forty yards stood between our front bumper and the zombies. They stood about ten or fifteen yards across, and at least three or four bodies deep.
“What on earth...?” Dad finally said under his breath, leaning and looking closer.
“What?” I asked, trying to see what he saw.
“Jake, what do you see?” DeAndre said quietly.
“I’m not sure...” Dad leaned closer, his face over the dashboard, staring out at the zombies gathered in front of us.
By this time, at least five minutes had passed, with not a movement from the crowd standing in front of us.
We all just sat there, watching the monsters, waiting for something to happen.
“What are they doing?” Jonathan whispered.
“No idea...” I answered.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” said DeAndre in a quiet voice. “After what we just plowed through, I just can’t quite believe my eyes.”
Dad had a worried look on his face, looking out on the intense threat these creatures represented. Blocking us in the way they had, with no way out, they had us trapped as sure as if we had our backs to the wall at the end of a dark alley. They had chased us, trying to stop our vehicle, even jumping on top of it to try and stop us. And now they had us trapped.
They knew we were trapped. There was no way they didn’t. They had evolved almost into animals, clever, crafty, intelligent animals that could herd prey in a certain direction, inducing panic, drive their quarry forward, and then, finally, back them into corner. Like rats in a cage.
We sat there. Watching each other. Five minutes stretched into ten. Then into fifteen. And then...
“What ...?” DeAndre sat forward with a start. Dad grabbed the steering wheel tighter, and we all held our breath.
One zombie had separated itself from the crowd and was shuffling forward. It had once been an old woman, perhaps nearly sixty years old before it had turned. It looked like it hadn’t been a zombie for long. There was some mangling on its arm and dried blood on the side of its head, enough so we could see it across the now space that still separated us.
The zombie was dragging a blanket behind it on the street, filthy and tattered, but recognizable as having once been blue and green checkerboard. Then, it stopped and turned to look back at its brethren. They looked back, and then some of them did something astonishing. They gestured for it to keep moving forward.
“Will you look at that,” Dad said softly.
The zombie woman seemed to come to a decision and, turning back to face us, began moving slowly forward again. It shuffled along, and as it got closer, we could see it was dragging its leg slightly behind it, as if it had an old injury there from when it had been killed and turned, an injury that kept it from walking faster.
It was now thirty yards from us. Ten yards from its companions.
“What the heck are these things up to?” DeAndre whispered, his hand at his mouth in a gesture of astonishment.
“Be careful,” Jonathan said. “These creatures are not to be trusted, they are deadly, they have killed Sanctuary soldiers, they are trying to trick us.” He sounded almost angry as he spoke. I looked back at him and he looked into my eyes with unshed tears. I looked down and saw his arm was laid across Risa.
“Is she...?” I asked, fear rising in my chest. I felt a lump in my throat and couldn’t speak. I just looked into his eyes.
He looked back at the front seat, at Dad and DeAndre still contemplating the zombies in front of us, then back at me.
“She’s still alive, but she’s slipped into a coma. I can’t wake her up.” Tears finally broke and ran down his face. “I am just so, so tired of all this, Luke.” He dropped his face and wiped his tears and fell silent.
Swallowing hard, I studied the face of my sister, so still and pale in the stretcher at the back of the SUV. Jonathan had her strapped in good and tight, so she’d been relatively safe during our long, bumpy flight; but the rough ride had worsened her condition and her face was white as a ghost’s.
I felt my chest constrict with fear at losing Risa.
“Jake!” I heard DeAndre exclaim from the front of the SUV, and I whipped my head around to see my dad taking off his seatbelt and reaching for the door handle.
The zombie was now halfway between us and the zombie crowd.
“Dad! What are you doing?”
“Jake, wait, for god’s sakes, wait a minute!” said DeAndre.
“I have a feeling about this,” Dad said. “I have a theory.”
Jonathan spoke up from the back seat. “At least let us back you up, cover you, protect you. These monsters nearly killed Risa!”
&
nbsp; “Yeah, man.” DeAndre had his shotgun in his hand already. “We’ll cover you.”
“Dad, don’t you dare step out of this SUV without us,” I said. He already had the door half open and one leg out.
Swearing under my breath, I grabbed my shotgun and knife and opened my own door. Jonathan jumped over the seatback and scrambled after me, shotgun in hand, knife already in his back holster.
Within less than a minute, we’d all piled out of the SUV, most of us highly trained soldiers, dad in front, the rest of us fanned out behind him in tight formation, shotguns in hand, all pointed at the zombie walking toward us.
Dad stopped right in front of the SUV and waited. The zombie hobbled toward us slowly, now ten yards away. I looked out at the rest of the zombie crowd. They were also watching the lone zombie walk toward us. Looking to either side, I saw the neighborhood we’d been trapped in was otherwise deserted. I wondered about that. We’d been attacked and chased by a far greater number of zombies than were in front of us now. Where had the rest of them gone?
My attention was drawn back to the zombie, it had finally stopped, just few yards from Dad.
It stood there and looked into Dad’s face and I could see its eyes were just starting to cloud over. It had a freshly killed smell to it, not yet too rotted; its clothes had dried blood on them and were beginning to tatter, but were still had some semblance of repair. Its hair was dirty and matted with blood. It had lost its shoes somewhere along the line, and one foot had on a black sock, while the other was bare and filthy.
Dad looked into its face, his hands at his side, looking as calm as I’d ever seen him. By contrast, the rest of us were all in a slight crouch, holding our shotguns leveled at the zombie’s chest, ready for anything. If that monster made a sudden move, I was certain it would be torn apart by four blasts coming from powerful, high-gauge shotguns.
The zombie stared back into Dad’s face for several minutes. Then, seemingly gathering its courage, it stepped forward and began to speak.
“Puh....” it seemed to struggle. “Puh...pl...” It looked down and then up again. It closed its eyes and then opened them again. And then it tried again.
“Pllleasssee...” The zombie seemed to choke a bit, then kind of cleared its throat. “Please. Please hhh... Please. Hhhelp.” it looked into Dad’s eyes, it almost looked like it was beseeching him.
“Plllease hhhelp us.”
Total and complete astonishment. My mouth dropped open.
Dad seemed speechless, and then, “Help you?”
The zombie seemed happy we’d understood it.
“Yesss. Pllease. Please hhelp usss. Nelssson did this,” it said again.
I looked over at the other zombies and was floored. They were still, for the most part, standing still and waiting. But a few of them had sat down to wait. I had never seen a zombie sit and wait. The ones sitting down were looking down at the ground, at us, or just around the area. They did not seem agitated at all. I had never seen a zombie that wasn’t agitated. This was amazing.
I heard dad speak again.
“What help do you need from us?” he asked.
The zombie looked at him, and its eyes seemed to search for the right words.
“Pplllease… help us. Please. Please help us. CCC.... Cu...” It seemed to struggle with the word. Then, amazingly, it clearly said, “Please help us. Please cure us.”
It looked at Dad, then at all of us. We looked back in astonishment.
Clearly, these were not the same zombies who had been chasing us.
Dad remained silent for a good minute or two, searching the zombie’s face for some sign it might be trying to trick him - or, on the other hand, that it might be on the level. Then, he seemed to choke on a thick voice as he spoke, clearing his throat and trying again, finally saying:
“We will try our best. You have my word on that,” before nodding to her and then turning to get back in the SUV.
The zombie fixed its gaze on each one of us, and we could see the pleading look in its eyes. Then, it started retreating, and so did we, keeping our shotguns trained on it until we got back inside our vehicle.
I know I felt just a little foolish pointing my shotgun at an apparently peaceful zombie, but those two words, “peaceful” and “zombie” hadn’t really coexisted in any sentence I’d ever imagined before.
Back in the vehicle, we were all silent while we watched it rejoin its fellows. Then the whole group of them melted into the surrounding alleys. Within minutes, we were alone, sitting in our vehicle in a deserted street.
It was quiet as a cemetery at midnight.
Not a thing moved, no birds, no cats or dogs, nothing.
Even the wind was silent. In fact, the whole world seemed to hold its breath, waiting.
Finally, Dad put the key in the ignition and turned it, and the engine roared to life.
As if by agreement, we all remained silent as we slowly made our way back to the highway and drove out of town.
I looked out the windows as we left, but I didn’t see so much as a whisper or hint of any zombies. It was as if they’d never been there.
FOURTEEN
We drove on into the evening, leaving the sun behind us as we traveled the lonely road. Dad did not stop again, except to gas up, we ate what we had and drank water from bottles and pushed on into the night. Sometime in the early evening, we passed from Ontario into Québec and the feel of the countryside became not only rural, but farmland. Since it was nighttime, the moonless night was inky black. Out here in the unsullied north the stars shone brighter than I’d seen them in a long time.
The one time he did stop for petrol, Jonathan and D stood watch with shotguns in hand as Dad pumped fuel into our large double tanks. We saw a few people inside the gas station and we nodded to each other, but that is as far as our interactions went. Gas stations were one of the last businesses to remain in most rural areas, the owners hanging on and persevering, and charging ridiculous prices for the precious fluid.
We passed through three more mid-sized towns on our way to the border crossing south of Montréal, which was more than eight hours away.
“DeAndre,” Dad said, breaking the silence of the last four hours. “What’s the latest Sanctuary intelligence on Montréal?”
“Well, it’s better than it was last year,” D said wryly.
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Wasn’t Montréal nearly overrun two years ago?”
Jonathan turned to me. “Remember the slash and burn nobody wanted to do?”
I nodded my head uneasily. DeAndre continued.
“The PM argued with Parliament for months about it. She told them intelligence had reported back with a civilian population of several thousand still holed up in the office buildings and outlying homes.”
I looked at Zach, and he just raised his eyebrows in a ‘Don’t ask me’ look that, if it hadn’t been for my clenched stomach I would have found adorable.
Looking back to Jonathan, he just shook his head grimly and stared out the window at the fields we were passing by.
It was nearly midnight.
DeAndre yawned as he spoke, “Carolyn Deveraux was never very good at appealing to some of the more extreme and militant members of Parliament. They finally got enough votes on their side, especially with the American contingent at them at every chance ... They threw a blast cluster every hundred feet throughout the city proper, and flamed the rest. Took back the city two months ago.” He turned to Dad again. “Intelligence says the city still has a twenty percent saturation level, and that most civilians have fled, but that there might be stragglers who moved in after the clusters.”
Apparently, there was a lot of food stored in warehouses inside the Montréal city limits, and starvation was still a huge issue on the smaller, outlying farms in this part of Québec. Resources like that were an irresistible temptation to those who were at the end of their rope. Desperation drove people to extreme lengths.
“Well, maybe try and find a ro
ute around it, I don’t like those odds, not in our situation,” Dad fell silent, in deep thought.
Nodding, DeAndre began searching the map for an alternate route.
After a few minutes, he spoke again. “We can go through Ottawa and cross at Cornwall. I don’t think that will be as much a danger.” He paused and thought for a moment. “Of course, there is always a danger.”
We grimaced. At this point, we hardly needed to be reminded.
___
We had been driving for several more hours, and discussing what had happened back in the town we’d stopped in.
“That was the weirdest, creepiest thing I’ve ever heard of,” I said. “Zombies jumping us, trying to stop us. Actually targeting us.” I looked back at Jonathan. “Do you think they did it because of me?”
A puzzled look crossed his face, then he just shook his head.
“Luke,” Dad was talking up front as he drove. “Whether or not they were after you, well, we’ll probably never know.”
“It does seem likely, though,” said DeAndre. “I mean, what are the odds they just started chasing us, out of all the cars that peeled outta that place, randomly?” He shook his head, mumbling about crazy zombies getting crazier.
“What I am really curious about is how they could tell our SUV had you in it?” Dad said. “I don’t think they could have been the same lot from Thunder Bay, we’d been driving almost constantly, there’s no way they could’ve kept up. Even if they were a different crowd, they may have some kind of instructions to go after you. But how did they know you were in that particular vehicle?”
“Yeah, they came rushing over that hill like they had a purpose,” Zach said. “Like they planned it, like they’d waited for us in the area, and were after us. Why?”
“Why, indeed.” Dad said, his tone flat and determined. “Why Luke at all? Because he’s hybrid? Granted, they can smell it on him, or rather, his lack of human smell. But why go after him? Why do they want him?”
Mad World (Book 3): Desperation Page 9