I looked into Claire's deep, blue eyes. The hard years after the zombie apocalypse had dulled them slightly, but they still sparkled with life. The toll of struggle was no doubt written on our faces. There was nothing I would have rather done at this moment than get her home. Get her home to her son. I wanted to get us both back home so we could live again, and try to forget about the bad world outside. She had never killed anyone with her bat before, just the undead. I always dealt with the living with my gun.
“Don't pay any attention to what I say,” I said. “I don't know what I'm talking about.”
Claire returned her head to my shoulder and put her arms around me. We often sat like this in the past when we were on the road together. I put my arm around her to try and comfort her, to comfort both of us. “We've both had a really lousy trip, I guess.” I kissed the top of Claire's head. Even with all the running around and dealing with zombies, her hair still managed to smell like fresh strawberries.
We sat like that for an hour or two, silent. Outside, the dead danced, and shuffled around on the sidewalk of the old town. The moaning and growling was picking up again. To drown them out, I tried to concentrate on my breathing, trick myself into closing my eyes to rest. It was difficult over the noise, but I managed to relax a little. I didn't notice when Claire stood up.
My eyes popped open. “What is it?”
Claire walked around, kicking the discarded papers around. Pointing at the floor, she said, “Blood trail. Didn't notice it at first with all the paper in here.” She walked along, following the trail from the bank to the lobby door. “A few drips of blood in a trail all the way to the door.” Claire stood, and looked across the street.
Knees and back creaking, I stood up and joined Claire at the window. “What are you getting at?”
“Do you think Lyle's people could have made it across the street?” Claire asked. “This blood could have come from an injury. They might have carried them through the lobby The door was unlocked, as well. Nobody was left behind to lock it.” She turned, and pointed to several buildings across the zombie-infested road.
Looking through the dead trudging up the street, I saw a long, brick building, painted white. A faded sign near the front door revealed it was a drugstore. The side facing the bank had a few dark windows and a single front door. Pallets of construction supplies were scattered on the sidewalk and parking areas near the door. Like the rest of the town, it was under repair. A chain-link fence surrounded the building with a gate in front of the door. Claire might be right. If Lyle's people made it across, the old drugstore was not a bad place to hide.
“How's the ankle, Claire?” I said. “How do you feel about a jog across the street?”
“I think I can handle it,” Claire said. She gestured towards Lyle, still silently sitting on the floor. “What about him?”
Taking a seat beside Lyle, I said, “You with us?”
He didn't answer, only continued to look at the ground. “I don't know if you heard us or not, but Claire thinks your friends might have made it out of here and across the street. We were going to take a walk, and check it out. You with us, Lyle?”
He looked up at me with his eyes still half closed, like he was waking from a long nap. “It doesn't matter anymore. Nothing does. You're right. They're gone. I left them here, and they died.”
“Maybe. But I'd like to get out of here, and I would hate to leave without checking across the street. Maybe they made it, and we could all get out of here together,” I said.
Lyle still didn't look convinced. “Go out there? With those things running around. They'll jump us.”
I leaned my head against the wall. “Since this whole mess started, I've learned there are times you run the other way, and there are times you hide. And then are times you run right at them and hope for the best.” I stood up, and offered my hand to Lyle to help him to his feet.
Lyle took my hand, and stood up. “I'm sorry I lied to you.”
“You were doing what you thought you had to do for your friends. Pretty common these days. Let's just get the hell out of here in one piece,” I said.
I went back to the window to check on the status of the dead outside. The real hunter-killers were back in hiding. What was left on the street were the mangled and the crushed. The ones missing arms, legs, and eyes crawling on the street. The dead were all moving in one direction. I watched in the window as they crossed in front of the ATM lobby, from left to right. Something was drawing them. Craning my neck and getting close to the glass revealed that the big zombie I wounded had stumbled into the middle of the road. His undead companions were feeding on his remains.
The Red-Eyes were temporarily distracted. A window to escape had opened.
Gathering up Claire and Lyle, I told them what we were going to try and do to get out of this mess. “We have a chance. Pretty small, but if we hurry, we might just get out of here.” I shot a quick glance at the window for a zombie check. “We're going to have to separate. Lyle, you're going to get the bus. Get around that barricade and pull it up to the front door of the building across the street.”
Lyle looked uncertain. “What if I don't make it?”
If the bus didn't pull up outside the building, Claire and I were probably doomed. “You'll make it. I won't lie. It's not going to be easy. The Red-Eyes may surround you, or try to block the bus. Just don't let anything with the wrong color eyes on board, and ride through. Try not to damage the bus too much. And I can't stress this enough - you have to stay there. You can't leave.”
“Right,” Lyle said. “You can count on me.”
“Good.” I turned to Claire, who had a death grip on her bat. “Claire, you and I will run across the street. You'll pick the lock, and we'll get inside.” I checked the window again. The flow of dead up the street was unchanged. “Hopefully without half of the undead locals coming in with us. If Lyle's people are inside, we get out to the bus as fast as possible.” Claire just nodded. Her rough hands made noise on the bat as she changed her grip.
We took our positions by the door. Lyle first, Claire in the middle, and me bringing up the rear. Before opening the door, I put a full magazine in my gun, and offered some last minute advice to Lyle. “Shoot only if you have to. Save your ammunition. Just get to the bus. Claire and I will give you a head start.”
Lyle stared out at the street with great intensity. “I understand.” His voice was shaky and uncertain, but I think he was focused.
“Go when you're ready,” I said.
Lyle reached up and unlocked the door. He pushed it aside, and took off down the sidewalk towards the bus. Claire and I were next.
“Straight line, right to the gate,” I said to Claire. She nodded, and got her bat ready. We both focused on the gate across the street. The dead continued to cross in front of us.
I waited for a gap. After a few seconds, an opening showed up. “Go!” I tapped Claire on the shoulder.
Bad ankle or not, Claire exploded out of the bank. She left the sidewalk, and was already in the street. I followed close behind. The stench of death and the cold air hit me in the face like a punch. I caught the sound of two shots down the street. Lyle was fighting for his life.
I hope he wins.
We hit the center of the street where the dead were walking. In an instant, it felt like a thousand dead hands and snapping jaws were coming at us from all directions. Claire used her small size to shoot though gaps, avoiding the grabbing hands of the zombies, pausing only to bash the skull of one that wouldn't move. The sound of aluminum bouncing off skulls and legs echoed off the walls.
A skeletal woman in a tattered black dress reached for me as I ran past. Ducking away from her outstretched hands, I fired my weapon at her face. The bullet tore through her head, and she fell at my feet in a pile of bones and cloth. Another zombie took her place and tried to take hold of my arm. I fired twice. One bullet tore through his shoulder, and the other hit him in the eye. He dropped onto the street at my feet as I ran p
ast.
Up ahead, Claire was at the gate. I watched as she swung away and blew the kneecaps out of a former cop. Another zombie blocked the gate. It reached with a quick hand to snatch her by the hair. Clare ducked, and slammed the meaty part of the bat into the center of the zombie's skull with an uppercut swing and a shrill, barbarian yell. Both Red-Eyes dispatched, she pulled up the gate latch and ran inside.
I followed closely behind, but not before I had to send another deadhead to the ground. A teen-age male with a bloody striped shirt was moving along the fence, using it as a guide and a crutch. He went down with a slug in his leg, and I shot another one to prevent it from getting inside the gate. After clearing the way, I stumbled through the gate, and took it from Claire. Before any zombies could wriggle in, I closed it and put the U-shaped latch down with a metallic clank. The zombies, stirred up by the possibility of a meal, hit the fence. It began to shake and undulate along its length as the zombies tried to rip it out of the ground. Looking around, I realized there was no way to lock the gate. The zombies got right into my face on the other side, and tried to tear the gate out of my hand. I was the only thing keeping Claire and I from being swarmed.
“You've got to be kidding,” I said, frantically looking around for something to jam the latch in place.
Claire picked up a thin shard of scrap metal. “Here...I've got something.” She shoved it in the hole where a padlock would usually reside and bent it into a u shape. I let the gate go, and took a step back. The angry zombies continued to shake the chain-link gate, but it held.
We didn't have long, and Lyle looked to be late in coming. “Claire! Get that door unlocked,” I shouted over the groans of the gathered dead.
Claire got her lock-picking tools out of her jacket sleeve, and took off for the door. “On it.”
I took another step back from the fence. It was now a race between Claire's lock-picking skills and the strength of the chain-link fence surrounding the old drugstore. The zombies along its length shook and pulled, trying to topple the structure. They stuck their bony fingers through the chain-link and curled them around posts to try and pull everything out of the ground. The fence was only temporary to protect the former construction site, and a few weak spots began to develop.
And then it got worse.
From their hiding places among the ruin and rot of the small town - the broken storefronts, the open sheds, and the woods - came undead reinforcements. These were the top of the line, undamaged, apex predators of the Red-Eye species. They poured out of the town and galloped toward the fence. They shoved lesser zombies out of the way to take their place at the head of the line. Soon, the fence line was a snarling, growling mass of zombies looking to rip everything apart to get some fresh meat.
A few of the brighter ones began to climb the fence. A horrible hissing sound came from above me. A young female had made it to the top of the fence, and was looking for a way down. Taking careful aim, I shot her in the chest. She fell backward, teetering on the edge of falling back into the mass of zombies gathered below. I shot her again, and she fell to the ground outside the gate.
Another Red-Eye not afraid of heights began to scale the fence. This time it was a big male, eyes glowing a deep red as he climbed. I didn't give him a chance to even reach halfway, sending him to the ground with a carefully placed head shot. A few more Red-Eyes started to climb up the fence, too many for me to shoot them all. As the metal posts grew more and more fatigued from being shaken by the mob, the fence began to creak.
I took two giant steps away from the failing fence. “Claire! Now would be a good time to get that door open.”
Claire didn't answer. She continued to try to solve the lock, her small hands flying around trying to find the right combination of tool and finesse to open the door. We were running out of time.
Movement from down the street. Something big. Every body on the street, alive or dead, turned to see what was headed our way. Bright headlights swept across the road. It was Lyle and our bus.
Like a rampaging elephant, the bus swerved around the concrete and junk barricade. It cut a straight path up the street, then turned toward the fence and the piled-up zombies. Some of the undead that still had self-preservation ability began to run away from the approaching doom. The less mobile ones just tried to shield themselves from the inevitable.
Lyle steered near the fence and cut a path right through the Red-Eyes. Zombies were crushed under the wheels and scattered all over the road. Their heads made odd thumping sounds as they rebounded off the mirrors and fenders of the bus. Lyle tried to preserve the headlights and grille area. After all, it was our ride home.
The bus roared past the gate and up the street in a cloud of zombie entrails and diesel fuel. Lyle drove at full speed until he found a convenient driveway. I watched in awe as the bus heeled over into a sharp left turn into the drive. Lyle then executed a perfect U-turn, and headed back towards the drugstore. The bus once again cut through the remaining zombies it didn't get in the first run, and with a squeal of brakes, stopped perfectly, with the folding door lined up at the gate. Dark blood and other things from inside zombies stained the white flanks of the bus. Lyle looked through the bi-folding doors and shrugged his shoulders.
“Not bad, Lyle,” I said to myself, flashing him the okay sign. Lyle had effectively cleared the gate. The Red-Eyes he didn't run over or injure were wandering around the street in a daze. We had some time while the undead recovered their wits.
“Got it!” Claire stood up, and opened the door. She stepped in, and I followed. I locked the door, and we sank to the floor to catch our breath for a second. “Someone installed the lock upside down,” Claire said, between gulps of air.
“I guess they were afraid someone would try to pick it,” I said. Claire just glared at me.
We caught or breath, and stood up. Claire turned on her flashlight to take a look around. Her beam revealed an old style drugstore with a big, wooden counter on the left wall of the building. It had fittings and nozzles for ice cream sodas and stations for food service, along with a grill. Padded stools were bolted to the floor around the counter. There were gaps here and there in the stools, as a few were still being stored under plastic tarps on a pallet. The right side of the building was devoted to shelves for merchandising. All of them were empty, and a few were pulled down to the floor. Along the back wall was a set of double swinging doors and the pharmacy.
Like the rest of the buildings in town, the drugstore was undergoing a restoration. Piles of new tile, wood, and other trim sat on pallets here and there on the floor. I took a step, and tripped over a “Pardon Our Mess” sign. The whole place was damp and moldy, and I could hear the distinct sound of water dripping somewhere in the building. All of the wood, including the old counter along the wall, was waterlogged and bloated.
Claire and I took the two small steps to the sunken main floor, tiled with grimy black and white tiles. Every step we took echoed in the empty space. Claire made a face. “Smells like an old locker room in here.”
“Roof must be leaking,” I said, taking another slow step inside. “Water is getting in and damaging everything.”
We walked slowly over to the shelves. Claire shined her flashlight down each aisle as we passed. All the shelves were empty, and nothing much was left behind. Just paper and empty packages were on the floor between the shelves.
“Not much left. Looks like someone took everything with them,” Claire whispered.
“Scroungers,” I said. My foot kicked a spent shotgun shell. “Looks like it was by force.”
A noise came from the pharmacy area along the back wall. Someone or something was watching us. Claire and I turned and went into action, rushing up the aisle to the back of the store.
We ducked down at the end of one of the aisles to take a look. The pharmacy had a long counter, and behind it was an office and work area. The middle of the counter had an opening with a locking half-door. It was a great place for something to hide.
She nodded, and stood up. Claire had taken about two steps towards the pharmacy when something came out of hiding and attacked. Claire went to the ground, and barely had time to block the attack from the side with her bat. The flashlight came out of Claire's hand and rolled away, leaving the pharmacy in semi-darkness. A fast-moving shape with something in its hands stood above Claire, and took another overhead swing at her head. She blocked it with her bat turned sideways. The store filled with the sounds of metal hitting metal, like a medieval sword fight. The attacker stood back to swing again, and I realized the weapon was an axe.
Unless Red-Eyes were now using tools, the attacker was living.
In an instant, I was on my feet. The attacking shape had raised the axe again and was threatening to split Claire's head open. Running into the shape, I caused us to tumble to the floor. After wrestling and rolling around for a while, I managed to get face to face with our potential murderer. It was an attractive woman, thirty years or so, with out-of-control red hair. I grabbed her by the throat and put my gun in her face. Claire kicked the yellow-handled axe away, and stood by to help if needed.
With my gun pointed at her head, she stopped struggling. Pleading with her eyes, she tried to pull my hand off her throat. “John...you're choking her,” Claire said.
In all the commotion, my grip on her throat had tightened. Relaxing my hand, I let her go. She rolled over to the right, and began to cry. “My girls. Please don't hurt us.”
With my gun still aimed at her face, I asked, “You wouldn't happen to know someone named Lyle?”
Her face brightened, and her tears went away. “Lyle's here? Thank God. He said he was going to come back. I'm Rose Lipton. I'm a teacher. The kids call me Miss Rose.” She stood, and extended her hand.
Claire was right. They made it across the street. I put my gun away, and took her hand. “John Linder.” I pointed behind me. “This is Claire.”
“Lyle said he was going to find someone,” Miss Rose said, trying to smooth her wild red hair. It had been a rough apocalypse so far for Miss Rose. She was very skinny, and was wearing second-hand clothes from the road with no jacket. Her shoes were oversized work boots, several sizes too big. “Uh...sorry about the axe. I didn't know who you were, and I wanted to protect the girls. I thought maybe you were from the road looking for trouble. Is Lyle with you?”
Sometimes We Ran (Book 3): Rescue Page 21