by C. M. Fick
Gathering up her courage, Sarah finally made up her mind to make a dash for the room she'd shared with Carmen and Tomos to get her bag and some books she'd seen in their room. Taking a deep breath, she quietly removed the two-by-four from the door and opened it a crack, listening for any movement. When all remained quiet, she slipped through the door and dashed for the end of the corridor.
The stench hit her before she rounded the corner. There was a soft thump, thump, thump and Sarah stopped to listen for what direction it was coming from. When she realized the thumping matched the rocking of the boat, she stepped into the corridor, holding out the broom pole she'd brought with her. It wouldn't kill a zombie, but with it, she could keep one out of arms reach.
Soft light filtered from the rooms, but most of the corridor lay in shadows. Sarah could see Tomos' corpse lying where it had fallen days earlier. Carmen's body lay several feet beyond and Sarah realized the soft thumps came from Carmen's decapitated head rolling back and forth with the boat's swells. There was no sign of Heather's remains.
Slipping into her room, she closed the door so no to be caught unaware and began to gather her things. Thankfully, she found her bag still mostly packed, allowing her the opportunity to search through her friend's bags for anything useful. In Tomos' bag, she found a butterfly knife and in Carmen's she found a group picture of her friends, taken the previous summer. Guilt stabbed through her chest at the reminder of everything she'd lost and the part she'd played in their demises. Ever since locking herself in the galley, Sarah had berated herself for not taking action - for not telling Curt that Quinn had in fact bitten Tomos. Putting the guilt aside for later, Sarah shoved the six books from the shelf into her bag, not bothering to look at the titles, and grabbed the blanket and pillow from her bed. She looked around, one last time, to make sure there wasn't anything else of use, left in the room.
Satisfied with her haul, Sarah slowly opened the door and peeked into the corridor; a shadow to her left, shifted then let out a long low moan. Not willing to allow herself to be trapped in her room without food or water, Sarah grabbed the broomstick and stepped out into the hall. Heather stood before her with a gaping hole in her stomach and entrails spilling out. Sarah felt bile rise in her throat, but when Heather took a step towards her, she quickly braced the pole against her chest and pushed her back. The zombies stumbled but didn't fall, regaining its balance and shuffling towards the fresh meat it craved. Sarah placed the pole again but this time, maneuvered Heather back little by little until she had a clear shot up the adjacent corridor. Just before making a run for the galley, Sarah thought she saw Curt, shuffling towards her from further down the corridor. She ran.
Sarah dashed through the doors of the galley, fumbling with the two-by-four for a moment before it slid back into place. Her heart racing, Sarah rested her head against the door and closed her eyes, concentrating on her labored breathing. Several heartbeats later Heather crashed into the door; Sarah fell backwards, sprawling across the floor. There was another bump on the door, but the barricade held fast and soon Heather moved on.
Sarah flopped back on the floor and lay unmoving, staring at the ceiling. She was safe. Heather couldn't get in. Someone would see the boat adrift and come to investigate. She could shout out the porthole to let them know of the dangers on board. They would have weapons and they'd come rescue her - maybe then she could go search for Aisha.
A can fell from the shelf in the pantry with a crash; Sarah sat up, her heart skipping a beat.
"Is anyone there?" she called out, listening for other sounds of movement over the thundering of her own heart. The boat listed with the waves and a can of corn rolled into view. Sarah chuckled. She'd freaked herself out for nothing. How many times had that can fallen off the shelf in the past few days? She'd had to pick it up more than once.
Getting to her feet, Sarah opened the nearest porthole to let some fresh air into the room. Walking back to the door, she picked up her belongings, listing what she'd do next aloud. "I'm going to put my books away and make my bed," she placed the blanket and pillow on the couch, "then I'll unpack," she put her duffle on the coffee table in front of the couch, "and then I'll make myself something to eat and maybe have a nap." Now that she was back safely in the galley, the rush of adrenaline was draining from her body, leaving her feeling exhausted. Pulling the books from her bag, Sarah walked over to the shelf and arranged them in order of their spine's colour - she'd probably rearrange them again later.
Sarah's mind wandered as she placed the books; she didn't hear the shuffle of feet behind her. She registered the rancid scent a moment before cold, dead arms wrapped around her from behind. Letting out a shriek of terror, Sarah squirmed, trying to break the grip the zombie had on her. She managed a half turn in the zombies embrace, only to stare up into the deadly pale face of Caden.
His eyes were milky and his skin was cold against hers; there was a nasty-looking bite mark on his jaw. She squirmed again, trying to break free, but he held on with a vice-like grip. She hadn't cleared the galley when she'd come back in - she hadn't thought it was necessary. She cursed herself for being so stupid. Apparently, Caden slipped in while she was getting her bag and the can falling to the floor hadn't been because of the boat's movement.
The zombie's teeth clacked together once, and Sarah struggled to free herself, but he held on tight. Leaning down, the zombie buried his face into her neck. Pain shot through Sarah's body as she fell back; the collision with the floor barely registering with her overwhelmed pain sensors. Caden pulled back, rending her flesh with his teeth and Sarah screamed in agony.
Warmth spread across Sarah's back and she knew if she didn't stop it she'd bleed out, but her arms were still pinned at her sides and the room around her was growing fuzzy. When the zombie tore into her breast with its teeth, she forgot about stopping the flow of blood. Her mind detached from her body and the pain eased into numbness. Sarah's consciousness seemed to float through a heavy mist and her last thought was of Aisha - she hoped her BFF was having better luck than she did.
Volume 11: The Crash's Survivors
Aftermath...
Todd crashed through the brush, feeling the finger-like branches catch at his clothes and scrape along his skin. He imagined burnt fingers wrapping around his arm, and pushed his body to run faster. His chest heaved as he gasped for air; he had to get as far away from the nightmare as possible. While he grew up in the small town of Covington and knew the area well, between the dark and his panicked run through the woods, Todd wasn't quite sure where he was. I need to get back to Misty's, grab my truck and get home to pack a few things. I need to get to the cabin. I'll be safe there until they get whatever this is under control.
Having seen the plane explode in the thick bush behind Misty's house, Misty, Todd and Dennis went to investigate and search for any survivors. When they'd come upon the charred person stumbling away from the inferno of the plane, they'd immediately gone to help. Little did they know that they were about to encounter their first walking corpse. It just turned on Dennis. It wrapped its burnt arms around him and wouldn't let go. It bit him and then... the sound of Dennis' screams echoed through Todd's head, and then I ran.
Slowing to a stop in a small clearing, Todd braced his hands on his knees and tried to catch his breath. He glanced around, trying to figure out where he was, and soon spotted the huge trunk of a familiar sycamore; when they were young, Todd and his friends built a clubhouse in the large tree. Something in the underbrush rustled, making him jump. As images of burnt corpses flashed through his mind, he realized he needed to get away from the area - as far away as possible. Now that he had his bearings, Todd turned east and jogged towards Misty's, trying to avoid his guilty thoughts over abandoning Dennis.
Upon arriving at the small house Misty called home, Todd noticed light pouring from every window. He blew out a relieved breath, as he climbed the three steps to the porch, "Misty. She'd made it home. Before the plane crashed, they'd been sitting by the
fire pit in the side yard, enjoying the beautiful night.
Todd reached for the door handle and turned; it was locked. "Misty!" he pounded on the door with his fist, "Misty, come open the door."
After a long moment, the curtain fluttered and Misty's pale, scared face filled the tiny opening. "You ran away," she said, wiping a hand over her cheek. She didn't move to unlock the door. "You ran away and left me and Dennis there with that thing."
"I'm sorry," Todd motioned to the doorknob, "let me in and we can talk."
Misty shook her head, "what if that thing followed you back here?" Her eyes flicked over Todd's shoulder, scanning the yard. "I don't want to be eaten, like Dennis was."
"I promise, I won't let that happen," Todd raised his hand, placing it on the glass in a silent apology. "What happened to Dennis..." he trailed off, not sure if anything he said could excuse his actions. "I was scared; it surprised me when that thing attacked him so viciously. I wasn't thinking straight. My first and only instinct was to get as far away as I could." His head bowed in shame, "I should have never left you like that."
There was a long moment where Misty just stared at Todd. Finally, she unlocked the door and opened it, motioning him inside. "Come in, but I'm packing," she turned towards the kitchen, "I can't stay here knowing that thing's so close to my house." Closing the door behind him, Todd followed her into the house.
In the kitchen, every door was flung open; cans of food sat in piles on the counter, and a large duffle bag sat by the back door, stuffed to capacity. Sure, I'd been turned around in the bush, but she couldn't have gotten home much before I got here. Amazed, Todd stared around the chaotic room, "I'm going home to pack, before heading to the cabin. There's plenty of room if you want to come with me."
Misty turned away from the cupboard she'd been ransacking, "You're going to Mississippi?"
Todd shrugged, "You know of a better place to go?"
"I'm going to my grandmothers," she said, stuffing a pack of pasta into a bag, "she lives in Georgia - I can make it there in less than seven hours. Your cabin's only two hours away," Misty gave Todd a skeptical look, "do you really think eighty-five miles is enough distance?"
Todd snorted, "Soon, the response team will be here and they'll take that delirious person to the hospital for treatment. They'll get the plane crash cleared up and life will go back to normal."
The sound Misty made was somewhere between a laugh and a sob, "that thing that attacked Dennis, it wasn't alive. How do you know they'll even find it in the woods?" She pointed out the dark window, "After what it did to Dennis, do you really think that it will be contained by a few responders?" He slowly nodded, but a sudden sinking feeling filled the pit of Todd's stomach. He somehow knew that nothing would be the same again. "Then you're not just a coward," she spat, "you're an idiot too." Misty turned back to the cupboard she was rummaging through, "now, I really need to finish packing; you know your way out."
Three days after the plane crash...
Todd stood on the second story walkway of the Covington library. His thoughts drifted over the events of the past several days, as he stared out at the zombies absently shuffling down the street. I can't believe how quickly its spread, he thought to himself, watching the mail carrier stumble over a discarded suitcase. It fell, landing face-first on the pavement; he'd swear it took half the skin off its cheek. The zombie lay still for a moment, before awkwardly picking itself up and continuing down the street, unaffected by the fall.
Dawn, three days earlier, Todd tried to leave town after packing his Land Rover with all of his food, clothing and camping supplies. On his way out of town, he found the army, with a blockade already set up. When he asked why he couldn't leave, the soldiers gave him some bullshit story about a terrorist on the plane, and containment of the situation. After trying several other routes, and after a threat at the third barricade, Todd returned home and went to sleep. Waking in the late afternoon, he decided to stay indoors, terrified of the faint screams coming from outside. If what happened to Dennis was happening to his neighbours, he didn't want to get involved.
The following morning, reminded of Misty's words and ashamed of his twice-over cowardice in as many days, Todd went out and found his neighborhood crawling with the walking dead. His friends, his neighbours - people he'd known all his life - turned into ravenous flesh-eating monsters. No one warned them to stay in their homes, and the town went about its usual business. Attacked sometime throughout the first day, people went home to their families, not understanding the ramifications.
It's an awful cycle, Todd thought, remembering the little girl from three houses down as she'd stumbled across her lawn in her nightdress. After realizing the army wasn't coming to help, and figuring they'd be busy keeping the zombies in, he decided to try leaving town again. While re-packing his truck, he'd had his first up-close encounter with a zombie. Thankfully, his shotgun had been within reach, but the blast drew in every one of his neighbours. It had been like ringing the dinner bell.
After leaving his home, Todd drove through town, amazed by all the chaos. He made it as far as the public library, where he found a group of survivors fighting off a cluster of zombies. Knowing he had a lot to make up for, he decided to stop. With his help, they killed the zombies in the immediate area and finished securing the windows of the library. For his assistance, the survivor group offered him a hot meal and a place to stay. He figured he could stay and pitch in, at least for a few days - he had nothing better to do.
Yesterday, he'd spent the day talking to the residents. He learned that it took between seven and twelve hours for a single bite to kill a person. Someone who died while being ravaged by the undead turned in less than five minutes. Although Todd already knew, each survivor repeated the same thing: the undead needed to be shot in the head, and nothing else would stop them.
This morning, they'd woken to find the power cut off. The melancholy atmosphere in the library quickly turned to fear, and David, the group's leader, calmed them with promises of a generator. Promises, Todd was sure, David couldn't keep.
Squealing tires, followed by a loud crash, interrupted Todd's thoughts. He looked as far up the street as the window allowed, but only saw the ten-or-so wandering zombies turn their attention towards the sound of the crash. Their mouths opened as a chorus of chilling moans filled the air. No longer aimless, they shuffled down the street, seeking living prey. Shouts sounded from the library below, and Todd sprinted through the stacks to the stairwell. Taking the stairs two at a time, Todd arrived on the first floor just in time to watch one of his fellow survivors fling open the emergency door and shout, "Ruuun!"
The library's survivors flooded into the stairwell, curious about the newcomers and eager to see if any of them knew the incoming group. Everyone's hope was that the next group to find the library would be friends or family, people they believed lost in the mayhem of the past three days. Two men, standing nearest to the one holding the door, pulled their guns, aimed out the opening and began to shoot. The loud reports echoed in the small space and the gathered crowd fell silent, collectively holding their breath.
Four more shots rang out; the man holding the door turned to the crowd, "I need everyone to back up," he said, waving everyone back to the library, "Once we're sure they're clean, we'll let them in. You can ask all your questions then." The grumbling crowd slowly returned to the main library as instructed; Todd remained behind, unnoticed. Several more shots fired before a woman, with her arms flung over her head, finally ran into the building.
Once in the safety of the library, she lowered her arms and turned back to the open door. "Dad, Ryan," she motioned frantically, "hurry up."
"Melissa?"
His neighbor turned, obviously surprised to see him there, and said, "Todd, thank god you're okay. I went over to your house earlier today to see if you wanted to come with us, but your truck was gone. We figured you'd gotten out of town before it got bad."
"Who's with you?" Todd asked.
"You found someone at my house?" Todd frowned, trying to think of whom she could be referring to; when nothing came to mind, he strained to look out the door. Ryan, Melissa's boyfriend, had his arm slung around Ezra, her father, helping him as he limped towards the safety of the library. Behind them, a woman walked backwards, shooting at any zombies who approached the retreating survivors. She's a good shot, he thought, watching another zombie fall to the ground, but he worried the gunfire would draw in every undead within hearing distance. "What about your mom and your brother?" Todd asked Melissa, still trying to see who the woman was; the way she moved seemed familiar.
Melissa's voice broke as she spoke, "We found my brother, eating my mother in the kitchen this morning. Ryan had to take care of them. Afterwards, we packed up and left. We were on our way out of town when one of my dad's friends stumbled in front of us; he swerved, trying to avoid him, even though he was already dead. Dad clipped a wrecked car and we crashed." With her dad and her boyfriend almost to the library door, Melissa shouted, "Hurry up. More are coming down the street."
The woman, finally clear of all immediate threats, turned and dashed across the parking lot towards him; Todd finally recognized her. "Misty!" he called, waving his arm out the door. Raising her arm in greeting, Misty jogged silently as she scanned the area for more undead.