by Brown, TW
The approaching zombie children were clustered together, so it was difficult to get numbers, but I had to guess there to be over fifty. I looked over to where I knew another one of the second ring personnel should be positioned. It took me a few seconds, but at last I spotted a dark lump that had to be a person. It was hunched down in some rocks up on the slope above the highway and just a bit behind my position.
I had to climb back up onto the bus (which annoyed the hell out of me; after all, if this person had not seen me waving my arms as I walked, how well were they keeping a lookout?) At last the figure detached from the boulders and stood up, shielding his or her eyes.
I motioned them over. They paused for too long and I made my gesture more emphatic. Whoever this was, when this was over, I was going to rip them a new one. At last the person made their way down the hill. He or she created quite a bit of noise as gravel and small rocks slid down the embankment. I glanced over my shoulder and noticed that the zombie children had obviously heard. They had re-oriented on the sound. Their advance was still slow and I had a moment to take them in.
Unlike regular zombies that lurch and stumble, these sort of creep along. They have their arms out a little from their bodies as if they are preparing to either launch an attack, or turn and run. Of course they don’t actually run, but I had a feeling that they would definitely scurry away if spooked.
I turned back just as the person that I’d waved over came up at a slow jog. I quickly swallowed my annoyance. I recognized the boy. His name was Timmy Jameson. At age thirteen, he was the minimum age that Billy had allowed to be pressed into serving. He had curly brown hair that was far too long and shaggy for normal field work. His eyes were big and brown…and scared. The fear seemed to almost pour out of him as he stood looking down at me from his abnormally tall height of under just six feet. He was as skinny as a bean pole and his giant hands and feet looked almost comical at the ends of his scrawny arms and legs.
“W-w-we aren’t supposed to leave our p-posts,” Timmy stammered the edict given at the briefing.
I took his hand and brought him around the bus so that he could see down the highway. I felt his grip suddenly tighten to the point of painful and had to pry my hand loose.
“Now,” I turned him so that he was facing me and looking me in the eyes, “can you hear the sounds of fighting down below?” I gave him a second to let the noises of battle register. He looked at me and nodded. “Yes, well they will hear it too.” I pointed down towards the zombie children.
He looked from me to the zombies to the embankment leading down to the fighting. Then, he looked back down at me. “We aren’t supposed to leave our posts.”
I bit my tongue. This poor kid was terrified. I don’t think he’d ever been outside the walls until today. That was something I would discuss with Billy when this was over.
“I need you to take position in my spot.”
He looked at me, and the fear now warred with confusion. He started to take a step back and I grabbed his arms.
“I have to get those zombie children to head in another direction, otherwise they might just go down to that little fight and add to the problem. I need you to hold my post. It is an important one.” I reached into my pouch on my hip and pulled out a long cylinder made of bamboo. “This flare needs to be fired if the bad guys start up the hill. You will see them best from on top of that bus.”
“But we aren’t—” Timmy started to recite again.
“Just do what I am telling you!” I snapped perhaps a little harsher than I intended.
Timmy’s mouth clicked shut and I saw his eyes get a little bit glassy looking. It took me a few seconds to realize that he was welling up. Great, I thought, I just made this boy cry. I let my hands slip down to his and I took them gently.
“Listen, our fighters are doing the hard part. That yelling and screaming that you hear is them fighting the bad guys. We can’t have zombies stumble down on them and make things worse, can we?” He shook his head as the first tear leaked from his left eye and carved a trail through the dust on his face from when he’d slid down the rocky embankment. “You will be a lot safer here than you would be up on that hill.”
He blinked away the tears and his expression changed a little. “For reals?” he asked with the tears in his eyes causing his voice to crack just a bit.
I opened my mouth and then considered what I was saying. That last bit had just come out, but I didn’t have any idea how that might be possible, yet, apparently, my having said it was swaying his reluctance.
“Absolutely,” I said slowly, drawing out that word as my mind raced to come up with an explanation or reason to support such a random claim. “If our line breaks and the bad guys come, you will be able to lob a few of these.” I produced my little clay explosive devices. Timmy’s eyes went wide. Everybody knew about Jim and his explosives, but not many got to actually handle them…other than Jim, of course.
“What do I do with them?”
“You just light this cloth strip. I already have a small torch up on the bus that is burning, as well as a few extras if you need to light a fresh one. After the strip catches, all you do is throw as hard as you can in the direction of the bad guys. It will catch everything in a pretty big area on fire, so be sure who you are throwing at and that none of our guys are in the mix.”
“Look for the red flags,” Timmy spoke the words as if in a trance. His eyes were locked on the little explosive that I held in my hand. On a whim, I raised my hand just a bit and lowered it. Sure enough, he followed the gesture, giving a slight nod of his head.
“Be sure!” I reached over and guided his chin so that he was looking at me again. “This stuff burns hot and nasty.”
“Okay.” He accepted the two explosives that I handed to him and stuffed them in the large pouch on his hip and then went to the bus. I waited until he was all the way up before I turned and started for the zombie children.
I still had four of the fire bombs in my own pouch. If I couldn’t just re-direct this mob, then I would use the fire bombs to try and take down the small herd.
I had to struggle to keep my adrenaline rush from sending me over the edge and making me do something careless. Running at zombies was just not something you ever wanted to do; zombie children made that idea even more daunting. There have actually been reports of zombie children luring people into traps where they would end up someplace with no clear exit and find themselves surrounded by a pack of the child zombies.
Our little neck of the woods has another aspect to add to the legend. Billy swears that the group of children that he ran into when he says he saw Emily were in the company of several cats. Everybody knows that cats don’t turn, but they do carry the virus if infected. Over the years, it is believed that cats fed on a steady diet of the undead and have become not only immune, not only carriers, but they supposedly pass on the infection to their kittens. Every cat is now considered a carrier. There have been concentrated efforts to completely eliminate them from the earth, but it was eventually decided that it would be next to impossible.
There is a town near here that is supposedly overrun with the feline beasts. If you believe the stories, there are houses full of useable supplies from the Old World, but nobody dares to go into that place. They have become so ferocious and territorial that supposedly a group of immunes went in and were torn to ribbons.
As I headed down the gradual slope and towards the herd of zombie children, my eyes were scanning the sides of the road intently and trying desperately to see if there might be more of them hidden and waiting to ambush me. Once I was within about fifty or so yards, I stopped advancing.
“Crap,” I swore.
Weaving in and out between the legs of the zombie children were cats…lots and lots of cats. That pretty much made up my mind as to how I was going to deal with these things. The thought of trying to perhaps lure them away was now replaced by the idea that I had to torch these things right now.
I reached in
my pouch and pulled out the first of the fire bombs. I had plenty of open space between them and me so I knelt on the spot and pulled out my tinderbox. There was plenty of sticks, twigs, and such just lying about to feed into my flame once I got it going. In no time, a small fire was sputtering. I dipped the cloth wick or fuse or whatever it was in the flames and stood up. By now, the zombie children were about thirty yards away.
I stood up and took a few steps back out of sheer reflex at seeing that many zombies so close to where I stood. Distance is a funny thing; when I looked at them as a threat, they were pretty close, but when I considered how far I would have to throw this explosive, they were a long ways away.
As much as my mind screamed in protest, I needed to get closer. My best chance for maximum impact was for this little baby to land in the midst of the herd. As soon as I started for them, a few of the zombie children stopped advancing. Slowly, the rest followed suit until they had all ceased moving. That was creepy all by itself, but the cats stopped as well, seemingly content to weave in and out of the legs of the little zombies.
“C’mon, guys,” I urged. I stopped too, my eyes now scanning the bunch and trying to figure out what they might be up to. “Are you gonna make me come to you? I can, ya know.”
I hefted my little fire bomb, bringing my arm back in preparation for my throw. That action made a few of the children start for me, but they only came a few steps before stopping. What I saw happen next gave me a bit of a chill. I made sure to catalog this so I could tell Dr. Zahn when I got back to Platypus Creek. The ones that had started forward looked back to the main group. There were some moans and a few cries from the main herd and the few that had started for me all turned around and re-joined their brethren.
I warred with myself for a span of a few heartbeats, and then I reached down and snuffed the burning cloth. I think I heard Timmy gasp back on the top of the bus as I set the device down and then put my arms out to the sides as I started forward slowly.
I have grown up with the motto of never leaving a zombie behind and still mobile if possible. The theory was that since zombies did not re-produce (at least in the conventional way); every one you took down was one less you might have to deal with later.
The problem that I was having might be partially due to all I’d heard about Billy’s encounter, but to me, killing these zombie children suddenly seemed wrong. I would lead them away if they would follow. If it became necessary, yes, I would end them, but suddenly, that did not seem essential. I only hoped I was not making a terrible mistake.
I had to find a way around them and the best choice was for me to go to the right and climb the embankment. Once I was up and above them a good distance, then I could hopefully keep their attention and lead them away. That would all work fine as long as I didn’t slip, lose my footing, and slide down into the midst of the group. If that happened, I was toast. I might be able to escape the clutches of the children and get away, but those cats had me nervous.
As I climbed the steep embankment, I had to allow myself to laugh. Here I was, confronted with way too many zombies for one person to be able to handle and I was worried about a bunch of cats. It almost seemed silly as I moved parallel to the zombie children who were now all watching me with their heads tilting one way and then the other in that creepy bird-like manner that made it feel like they were studying me more than anything else. A few even moved my way, but just as before, when they realized (if zombies can realize) that the others were not following, they shifted back to join the group.
From above them, I was able to see a few things that I could not pass off as coincidence. For one, the youngest seemed to be in the middle of the pack. Once more, that was something I needed to file away. This was building up a mountain of evidence that the child zombie had at least some ability to act with a certain sort of consciousness. Also, the cats trailed behind the herd apparently grazing on bits and pieces that fell or sloughed off. What brought my attention to that little disgusting nugget was an arm that had somehow come off. I watched for a moment as five cats tugged and pulled at it, Eventually, one large black one managed to trot off with its prize, but not before the others each managed to rip away a chunk and scurry off someplace private to enjoy a mini-feast.
If nothing else, I was learning things that I know Dr. Zahn would love hearing. Also, if I was being honest with myself, I was becoming fascinated with how these zombie children were so obviously different.
At last I was past them far enough that I felt comfortable moving down the slope and back to the road. So far, things were going surprisingly well. As soon as that thought skidded across my brain, I groaned inwardly. Nothing like a good jinx, I thought bitterly. I slid down on my butt, not wanting to risk that one wrong step that would send me sprawling, or worse, injuring an ankle. Zombies might be slow, but they don’t take breaks and they don’t feel pain. A sprained ankle was a death sentence out here.
As I got to my feet, I had that creepy feeling like when you are in water where your feet can’t touch the bottom. I was now on the other side of the zombies which meant that all my support, my home, and my best escape route was now outside of any easy reach. I was committed to this course of action now whether I liked it or not.
I started walking backwards at first, making a decent amount of noise so that the zombie children all started in pursuit of me and basically forgot whatever had led them this direction in the first place. As I looked them over, I realized that this was the first time that I’d seen a mob consisting solely of the child zombie. Even Billy’s story only spoke of a small group. They were certainly not in the numbers that were following me. The only reported incidents of this many child zombies in one area was that town with all the cats and a few rumors that filtered in with traders and nomadic travellers who passed through Platypus Creek from time to time.
That icky feeling was soon replaced by something else. I was experiencing something new and different. I would have information to share that, at least as far as I knew, nobody else had gathered. I don’t know why, but that felt exciting.
I stopped so that the little zombies could close the distance a bit. I figured keeping a good thirty or so feet would be sufficient. If I tripped or anything strange, I would still have plenty of time to get to my feet even if the ones in front sped up a bit like they sometimes did when they were about to attack. That was another thing unique to the child zombie. They were rumored to have the ability to put on a little burst of speed. Not anything crazy fast, but it was still almost a speed walker sort of tempo.
As I started down the highway with my little parade of child zombies, I had to wonder what this might look like to an outsider. When I felt that they were committed to following me, I returned my attention to what was in front of me. The road was long and wound lazily down the foothills of what were once known as the Blue Mountains. I don’t think we call them anything now. They are simply where our home is located.
I knew that this would eventually empty out into the valley where La Grande is situated. I did not plan on being on the road that long, but I wanted to be sure that I had this little group far enough away before I ditched them so that they would not just double back. There were enough old turnoffs along the way down that would lead up into the woods.
Once again I had a thought that made me giggle. I was leading a bunch of children on a hike where my ultimate goal was to get them lost in the woods.
I’d been playing the part of the Pied Piper for about twenty minutes when I started to notice one zombie in particular that was sort of leading the pack. At first I didn’t really give it much thought. By the third time that I looked back and noticed that it was the same one, I sped up to put a little distance between me and the group. Once I felt good about the space between us, I turned with my binoculars in hand. It wasn’t that I needed them to see, but I wanted a close look at this one particular zombie.
Even before I brought the glasses up, I could feel something niggling at my brain. When I zoomed in
on the lone figure that was now a good five or six feet in front of the rest of the group, I gasped.
“That’s not possible,” I said out loud.
I let the glasses drop. As I did so, I noticed that, for whatever reason, the rest of the zombie mob had stopped. Only this lone figure continued to make its way towards me.
The years had not been kind. As was the case with any of the undead that have existed for several years, this one had lost its clothing. Rot, decay, and snagging on branches and brambles had taken its toll. I’d also noticed when I was looking at its face that this one had very few teeth remaining. That was often the case with child zombies. Many of them were even toothless simply because baby teeth don’t hold up. Their permanent teeth are trapped under leathery gums. They might actually wear through in places, but at best they provide jagged nubs.
This one had lost most of its hair as well, but a few wispy strands were still clinging to the skull in a few patches. There were signs of more than one attempt to bring this zombie down. I counted no less than a dozen bullet holes in the torso as well as one in the throat.
When it came to within about twenty feet, the zombie stopped and just swayed a bit as it regarded me. We studied each other and I felt my skin pebble with goose bumps as the realization solidified.
“Emily?” I whispered.
The zombie did not move or react to its name, but I knew who I was seeing. I also now knew that everything Billy had said was absolute truth. A small voice in my head told me to end her. After all, when the story of how Steve had been unable to do it was told, hadn’t I refused to believe it? I hated the idea of Emily wandering the earth as one of the walking dead
Now, here I stood. I was face-to-face with a zombie that I knew to be my childhood friend. I had no idea what had led her here or any of the millions of variables that had to occur for us to meet like this, and I didn’t care.
In that very instant I understood Billy. I understood Steve. I knew why they had let this zombie continue to exist. Despite the weathered skin and the fact that she had almost no nose and her lips had worn or withered away, I knew that the zombie studying me was Emily.