The van began to drive away, following what was formerly the tail car. The other SUV, the one Harry was driving, didn’t bother to turn around because they wouldn’t have enough time before the mass was on them. They drove straight backwards, nearly crashing into the van a second time.
Driving down the way they had come, they went a lot faster. They wove around cars they had already passed, confidant that the way ahead wasn’t blocked.
“Where are we going?” Robin shouted up to Doyle.
“I don’t know. Wherever Everett takes us,” Doyle answered. Everett must be the man driving the other SUV.
“We can’t keep going backwards. We need to find a way around.” Robin knew that going back to the city would only mean death.
“Okay, hang on.” When the new lead car shot past a turn, Doyle slowed just enough to take it without tipping.
Both SUVs hit the brakes again. The one being driven by Harry flew past the turn, squealed to a stop, then came rocketing down the road after them, facing the right way again. Robin pictured the passengers inside being constantly slammed around in their seatbelts and was glad she had decided to get into the van. The driver of the second SUV must have been watching his mirrors, because it took him only a moment to notice the change of course. He backed up quickly, getting his vehicle turned around to follow them. The van was now the lead car; it was like playing vehicular leapfrog.
This new road was narrower than the last. Although both were two lanes, these lanes were tighter and didn’t have gravel shoulders flanking them, just drainage ditches sloping away from the sides. Doyle must have figured the smaller road meant there was likely to be fewer vehicles on it, because he drove down it faster.
Robin kept twisting around in her seat. She was torn between watching the road ahead, keeping an eye on their friends behind them, and looking at the horde of zombies to the south. The line just seemed to continue on and on.
“I don’t think we can get around them,” Cynthia said. “There’s too many, and they’re only getting closer.”
“You’re right,” Doyle agreed. “Even if we do get past them, they’re just going to turn around and start following us. They could catch up whenever we stop. We need somewhere to hide, somewhere we can ride them out. Everybody keep a look out.”
If Robin had been twisting around a lot before, she was utterly frantic about it now. There was nothing out here. Where could they hide? All she could see were groups of trees that were far too small to hide in, some hills that would be pointless to try to hide behind, and fences that obviously wouldn’t slow the zombies down. It was at this moment that Robin missed the city. There had always been an alleyway, an office building, a storefront, a dumpster, a bus, something to hide in. Out here, it was just too damn open.
“Look!” the canary shouted, pointing out through the windshield. “A farmhouse!”
At last. Up ahead, and down a short driveway, stood a large, two story, white clapboard farmhouse. Doyle turned the wheel as they reached the strip of flattened earth that served as a driveway. He went right to the end, stopping as close to the house as possible. Everyone began piling out before the engine was even off.
“Splatter!” Robin couldn’t find the kitten because he had crawled under a seat again. “Where are you, Splatter?”
“Leave him! Come on!” Quin tugged at her shirt back as the first of the SUVs skidded to a halt, kicking up a cloud of dust.
“I’m not leaving without him! Not this time!” Robin couldn’t help but think of Charcoal and Charlie.
“He’ll be hidden in the car,” Quin tried to convince her. “He’s small, and he understands the threat. He’ll stay under the seats, and the zombies won’t even know he’s there. He’ll be safer than we will be, especially if we don’t hurry.”
The second SUV ground to a stop, the passengers leaping out and running for the house, ignoring Robin and Quin.
Robin searched one last time but couldn’t find the little fuzz-ball. She finally had to give up and trust that Quin was right. She slammed the door shut, making the van the only vehicle with all its doors closed, and allowed Quin to pull her into the house.
They burst through the door, right behind the group from the last car, and Doyle swung it shut behind them.
“We can’t trust that they didn’t see us come in here. Find a place within the house to hide,” Doyle ordered.
Everybody split up as it became a free-for-all to find a nook or cranny that could hold them. Quin ran for the stairs, holding Robin’s hand to make sure she came with him. The old rocker intuitively located a bathroom up there, pulled them inside, and locked the door behind them.
“In the tub, come on.” Quin pulled back the shower curtain from around a deep, claw-footed bathtub. Robin climbed over the side, standing on the porcelain bottom. Quin got in after her, pulling the curtain back around them. It was blue, depicting dolphins playing in the ocean waves.
“Why’d you think of here?” Robin whispered.
“I remember once being told that if someone breaks into your house, you should hide in the bathtub. Come on, lie down.” Quin lay down himself, causing Robin to have to crunch in next to and partly on top of him. The two of them flattened themselves together, trying to keep all their limbs and joints below the edge of the tub.
“This isn’t like a robbery,” Robin barely spoke into his solid chest.
Quin didn’t bother to respond.
The two of them lay perfectly still. Robin could hear Quin’s slow, deep breathing, but she could also hear the hammering of his heart. Her own heart felt like it was playing jump rope where her stomach had been, while her stomach had gone to visit her throat.
Downstairs, a window shattered and a woman screamed.
***
Robin could feel her blood pulsing through every part of her body, especially behind her eyes. She breathed only when her body forced her to, causing her to see spots. She wasn’t paying any attention to what she could see, however, she was only focused on what she could hear.
Particularly the screaming.
After the first woman screamed, more windows were broken in with the abrasive tinkling of glass. Loud groans needlessly verified that it was zombies breaking in. A thumping began on the doors and walls of the house; no doubt, more zombies who weren’t bright enough to climb through the windows.
It was impossible to tell who the screaming woman was; it could have been any member of their group. Robin figured the sound was coming from downstairs, and toward the east end of the building. She hadn’t watched where anyone else had run to, though, and only guessed it wasn’t Elizabeth because Cynthia, and probably Harry, would be with her.
Another scream came from the west end of the building. This time it was a man’s scream, and he was spewing out a string of curses at the zombies. It was shortly after he began shouting, that the woman’s screams were cut brutally short.
Zombies came clomping up the stairs. Although the horde appeared to consist of the slow and dumb walkers, the prospect of living flesh was making them hurry as best they could. Robin could hear them tripping over each other and crashing to the floor. Once up the stairs, the zombie sounds spread out down the hall, going to every room. The doorknob to the bathroom began jiggling ceaselessly as one of them tried to get in.
A splintering, wooden crash came from down the hall as a door was broken down. Two women and a man began shouting. The man ordered the women out the window, but the women sounded distressed, confused, and didn’t comprehend what he was saying. Was that Elizabeth and Cynthia alongside Harry? Were they not able to find a place to hide Elizabeth’s girth anywhere better than behind a locked door? There was no way to be sure, but Robin hoped not. Her mind rationalized that it was not them. Elizabeth had a gun and it would surely be used in such a situation. But then, Robin had a gun too, and she had managed to forget it in the car. This had been a ‘hide’ situation, not a ‘fight’ situation, and she hadn’t been thinking when she left it behind.
A crack came from their own door, although not as loudly as the other one. Robin’s ears suddenly focused entirely on that door, instead of the rest of the house. There was a thunk, as a metal object struck the tiled floor: the doorknob perhaps. The door rattled some more, then swung inward, bringing with it the scent of rotting flesh. Robin finally used her eyes, looking up at the dolphin-covered shower curtain.
Many shadows came shuffling in, bumping into each other. The curtain swayed from their bodies brushing against it. They groaned as they knocked things off the counter. One of them managed to crack the mirror, while another broke the little window.
One of the zombies started pawing at the shower curtain. It made a zishk, zishk, zishk, sound as the thing’s ragged nails ran down the surface. The dolphins in their sea waves warped and distorted in odd, mutant ways. The zombie stopped when an explosive crash came from somewhere downstairs, or perhaps even from outside. It turned around, and tried to shuffle out the door with the others, but it got pushed by one of them.
The zombie toppled over, toward the bathtub.
Robin watched as the blue curtain came rushing toward her, whizzing across the porcelain edge of the tub. It stopped just before reaching her. The zombie’s legs must have caught the edge of the tub, pinning the curtain against it, and causing it to go taut to catch the zombie’s upper body in something like a hammock.
Even without breathing, the stench of the thing could be smelled. It was a combination of rot, blood, and faeces. Robin willed her heart to stop beating, just to provide more silence, more stillness. The thing had to be close enough to hear the blood rushing through her veins.
The zombie struggled as it tried to right itself. Robin moved her eyes up toward the ceiling, slowly for fear of their rotation somehow being heard. There, the shower curtain was straining against the rings that held it to the rod. If they gave out, the zombie would fall directly upon her and Quin. There was nothing she could do as she laid there, willing the rings to hold.
Then the zombie was up on its feet, the strain removed from the shower curtain. The thing didn’t leave the room, though. The sound that it had been about to follow earlier no longer compelled it. The shadow remained standing in the bathroom, its back to the door, facing out toward the window in the wall next to the tub.
For a long time, it just stood there.
Neither Robin nor Quin could move without the risk of drawing the attention of the zombie. This was how they would die. They would shrivel up from thirst, waiting for the zombie to walk away. However, Robin had started to believe it wouldn’t walk away. That it would stand there forever, degrading into a skeleton as their own bodies did the same.
They waited and waited.
***
Robin temporarily lost her mind as she lay there. It was impossible to know how long she and Quin had been in the tub. The only way to keep track of time was the beating of their hearts, but those were erratic at best. When the mind wandered to some far off place, the heart slowed, but the moment their situation was remembered, it sped right back up. Robin was amazed that Quin hadn’t suffered a heart attack or a stroke with the way his was going.
All muscles were cramped, screaming to be moved, shifted, twitched, anything. At any moment now, one of them wouldn’t be able to control their body’s desire; one of them would flinch, the zombie would hear, and they’d be killed in an awful, bloody mess. Just like Phil on the bus, all that time ago.
Robin began to believe that the zombie knew they were there. That the rotting corpse was doing this on purpose, torturing them for its own amusement. This thing just wanted to see how long they could last, perhaps testing them, deciding whether he would turn them or kill them.
A second shadow appeared in the doorway, behind the zombie. A lump formed in Robin’s throat as she tried to decide whether this was actually another zombie, or just a trick her mind was playing. While she had lain there, her mind had wandered off into memories so vivid, she swore she was there. Was this just a new form of that? Her mind making up stuff to stave off death by tense boredom?
The new shadow moved toward the zombie slowly, silently. When it got close enough, it became quick. It happened so fast, Robin wasn’t even sure what had just occurred. The zombie dropped to the floor, the sound of its collapse seeming explosive after such a lack of stimulus. The shadow moved to the shower curtain and ripped it back with a grating shrick of metal rings sliding along a metal pole.
Robin screamed at the faceless monster above her and Quin. Her muscles contracted from fright, the sudden motion causing sharp pains to bloom in every joint.
As both Robin and Quin tried to stand, their stiff and tangled bodies fighting against them, the faceless creature stumbled back, raising his hands in a defensive posture. In one of them was a bloody machete. Upon recognizing the machete, Robin was able to focus on the other shapes and forms that made up familiar objects. A yellow firefighter’s jacket, and a full face gas mask. Robin thought it must be Doyle when she noticed the jacket, but the form underneath was too small, and wore only shorts and boots.
The boy, as he was too scrawny to be called a man, pulled the mask up onto the top of his head.
“Whoa, I’m sorry, calm down,” he stammered, whispering. “I’m not going to hurt you. Govno. I didn’t think there was someone alive in there. I’m sorry. Fuck.”
“Who are you?” Robin asked, also whispering, as she got out of the tub on shaky legs.
“Watch your step!” the guy rushed forward, grabbed Robin’s arm, and pulled her sideways, nearly causing her to fall over.
Robin looked down at the dead zombie she had stepped near. Only, it wasn’t really dead. The jaws continued to work, opening and closing, and the eyes rolled in their sockets.
“It takes a lot of time and effort to take out the brain with just a machete,” the boy explained, helping Robin to the bathroom door, and then turning to assist Quin. “It’s quicker to just whack the back of the neck, between the vertebrae. Paralyses their bodies, although they still might be able to bite. Rather not risk you getting stuck in a zombie bear trap.”
“Misha!” A gunshot rang out from down the hall, painful in the close confines of the house.
Robin looked out into the hall and saw a powerful-looking man striding toward her from another room. A zombie lay dead in the hall between them, likely drawn by their talking. A few more shots rang out around the house.
“Sorry, there were two survivors,” the boy, who must be named Misha, answered as he ushered Robin and Quin out into the hallway.
The man went into the bathroom after holstering his pistol, holding a hammer in one hand, and a long piece of metal piping with the other. He pulled a mask down over his face, placed one end of the metal into the ear of the zombie’s turned head, and started hitting the top with a hammer. Blood squirted up, and Robin realized what the masks were for. After what happened to April, she wished that they had thought to wear their own masks all the time.
“Come on, let’s get you outside.” Misha started down the stairs, prompting Quin and Robin to follow after him.
“Robin!” Elizabeth hurried over as fast as her swollen ankles allowed and hugged the teenaged girl as best she could. She then turned and hugged Quin as well.
“What’s going on?” Robin wondered as she looked around. Six members of their party were missing, nearly half, but a lot of new people were standing around with the group as well. The sun had also begun to sink below the hills and trees.
“That should be all of them,” Misha said to the man who had been in the house. The man wore a military-like uniform and walked over to stand with Doyle. “Sorry for talking, I got startled.”
“It’s fine.” The military man told him. He then turned to Robin’s group. “I’m sorry we couldn’t try to help you all sooner.”
“What happened?” Robin asked Elizabeth directly.
“Well, most of the zombies were drawn back outside when one of them broke a window on one of th
e SUVs.” Elizabeth gestured to the vehicle, whose rear windshield had been smashed in. Robin was glad to see the van was totally intact. “Unfortunately, not all of them left the house.”
“I knew that part.” Robin shuddered.
“We didn’t know what to do, beyond hope they eventually left. These people, though, they had been hiding in a nearby silo when the horde went by. They were walking through the field behind this place when one of them spotted Chester at a window, and decided to try to help. They went room to room, killing all the zombies silently so as not to alert any others in the house. Well, until you apparently scared the pants off that one.”
“I could’ve done with an alert before the shower curtain was yanked back.” Robin frowned as she remembered how she had screamed. That was what had likely drawn the zombie in the hall toward them and resulted in the ensuing gunfire.
Introductions were made all around, but again Robin couldn’t catch all their names. She had the worst memory for names, and couldn’t even recall who Chester was, despite him being part of her group. This new group had kids with them though, including a little two-year-old.
“Where are you folks heading?” Doyle asked the uniformed man who seemed to be their leader in the same way that Doyle was theirs.
“We’re trying to get to the Pearson International Airport in Toronto,” he said. “There are some planes there that are going to fly survivors out to Halifax, where a cruise ship is anchored off-shore.”
“That’s where we’re going!” Doyle exclaimed excitedly.
Adaptive Instinct (Survival Instinct) Page 49