by Amy Cross
This time I only miss by a few inches.
I aim again.
“Come on,” I whisper. “You can do this.”
She turns to me and lets out an angry snarl.
I fire, and this time I hit her square in the shoulders, sending her slumping back down against the snowy ground. Startled, I stay completely still for a moment, watching as she struggles to get up. Finally realizing that I need to act while I have a good chance, I stumble down the rest of the incline and then stop for a moment, watching as Doctor Cole tries again to get to her feet. Evidently even a big wound in the middle of her chest isn't enough to stop her, and after a few seconds she turns to me and lets out a loud, angry hissing sound.
“Sorry,” I stammer, aiming at her head and firing again. This time, from just a few meters away, I hit her in the face, blasting a chunk out the back of her head and sending her crashing back down into the snow.
I step closer and pull the trigger again, but this time the guns simply clicks impotently. At least Doctor Cole is down for now, although her body is still twitching. It's almost as if the rest of her is trying to get back up, despite the fact that a third of her head is missing.
“Oh God,” I whisper, momentarily frozen by the realization that I actually shot and killed someone. “I didn't have a choice, I...”
Suddenly hearing a groan from nearby, I turn and see that Pickles' head is turning to me.
“Pickles!” I scream, stumbling over to him and dropping to my knees. Blood is already soaking into the snow all around the vicious wound in his neck, and the flesh has been torn away down to his collarbone all the way across to his right shoulder. I know I have to do something, that I have to find some way to save him, but blood is still rushing from his various wounds and I'm terrified of making a mistake.
“Run!” he gasps.
“What?”
“Run, Lucy!” He tries to get up, only to slump back down almost immediately. “Get in the truck,” he continues, his voice reduced to a pained croak, “and drive. Go west, away from the big cities. Find somewhere to wait it out.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask. “Wait what out?”
“Don't you get it?”
“Get what?”
“Something's wrong,” he gasps. “Listen. Drive west, take the high mountain road until you reach Passage Peak. There, you should be able to stop and get the radio working. There'll be something, some kind of signal, some kind of emergency broadcast from the government. Listen to what it says and do whatever they tell you. Just remember...”
Suddenly he starts coughing, spraying the front of my shirt with blood. He tries to turn away from me, but I grab him by the shoulders and hold him tight.
“I think something's happened to the people,” he groans.
“Happened? Like what?”
“I think -”
Before he can finish, there's a sudden flurry of scratching nearby. I turn just in time to see that Charlotte Cole is struggling to sit up. Horrified, I watch as her shattered head starts turning to me, with a section of torn brain hanging down next to a burst eyeball. Her jaw is still hanging loose, but after a moment she lets out a low, angry hiss.
“Is that her?” Pickles gasps.
“How's she doing that?” I stammer. “She shouldn't be able to do that!”
“Move!” he groans, trying to push me away. “Get out of here, Lucy!”
“How's she doing that?” I whisper, still watching in horror as Doctor Cole tries but fails to get up. Her limbs are a nest of broken bones now, twisted and cracked all around her while her torso twitches and turns. Her head is lolling from side to side, perched on top of a broken and loose neck.
Hunger.
She wants to feed.
“Lucy, run!” Pickles hisses. “For God's sake, don't you get it? Something's wrong with them! I don't know how many, but there are going to be others like her!”
“Like her?” I ask. “What does that -”
“Go!”
Suddenly he puts his hands on my chest and throws his weight at me, shoving me back. Gasping from the effort, he slumps down in the snow as more blood runs from his ravaged neck.
“Run!” he gurgles. “It must be contagious! Lucy, run!”
“I'm taking you with me,” I stammer, getting to my feet. “I'm -”
“No!”
“Pickles, I have to!”
“I probably have it!” he gasps, looking up at me with terrified eyes. “Don't you get it? Whatever she has, it's spreading, and it's probably in me now!”
“No, you -”
“Get this off!” he continues, grabbing the front of my blood-stained shirt. “It might be in my blood, Lucy! You can't take any risks!”
“I think maybe you're delirious,” I tell him. “You're just -”
“Look at her!”
“Pickles -”
“Look at her!” he shouts. “For God's sake, Lucy, look at the evidence right in front of you!”
Shocked, I stare at him for a moment before turning to look over at Doctor Cole. She's still trying to get up, but her limbs won't support her at all. Despite the hopelessness of her struggle, however, she's snarling at me and refusing to give up. Finally she reaches out with her less-damaged arm and grips the ground, and then she starts trying to haul herself toward me. I watch in horror as her broken legs twist and crunch. A moment later her trailing jaw catches on a patch of ice, but even this doesn't stop her. Instead she continues to pull herself closer, while slowly ripping her jaw wider and wider open until it snaps.
“That's a zombie,” Pickles whispers. “I don't care that it's not possible, that's a goddamn zombie in my book! She's dead, she has to be, but she's still coming for us!”
“Zombies aren't real, though,” I point out, with tears in my eyes. “Come on, Pickles, you know that...”
“She's real,” he replies, “and whatever she is, the word zombie seems to fit it pretty well. She's dead and she's hungry.”
I open my mouth to argue with him again, to tell him he can't be right, but somehow the words won't leave my lips. I know zombies can't possibly exist, but at the same time I also know what I'm seeing. Pickles might be right about what Doctor Cole has become, although he's definitely wrong about one other thing.
I can't leave him here.
“I'm getting you outta here,” I say finally, grabbing Pickles' arms and starting to haul him toward the bottom of the incline. “We'll figure this out later, but right now -”
“Leave me!”
“I can't!”
My hands slip and I fall back, crashing down into the snow. Pickles is heavier than I expected, and I'm honestly not sure that I'll be able to get him all the way up the incline. Still, there's no way I can leave him down here.
Suddenly I hear a loud cry from nearby. Turning, I'm shocked to see that Doctor Cole has finally begun to pull herself closer, using her remaining good arm to grip the soil. Her broken limbs are trailing behind her like cans from a wedding car, but she's surprisingly fast and she's gonna reach us pretty soon if we don't move.
“Lucy, run!” Pickles shouts. “It's too late for me! You have to save yourself!”
“No,” I stammer, grabbing his arms and trying again to pull him up the incline. No matter how hard I try, however, I can't pull him more than a few feet at a time, and Doctor Cole is coming at us just as fast.
“You have to run!” Pickles hisses. “Lucy -”
“Wait!”
Spotting a broken branch poking out of the snow, I pull it free and then watch Doctor Cole for a moment. Her tattered flesh is broken in several places, and I can see her bare ribs shining in the moonlight. I take a deep breath, trying to drum up the courage I'll need, and then I run around to her side. Before she has a chance to turn, I let out a cry as I drive the branch down between two of her ribs, and then I keep pushing until the tip breaks into the snow beneath her body.
She reaches for me with her one good hand, but I skip back j
ust in time.
Letting out a growl, she tries to crawl after me. The branch is pinning her to the ground, however, and I quickly hurry back over to Pickles. I don't often have ideas, but that one wasn't too bad.
“That won't hold her for long,” I mutter, grabbing his arms and starting to haul him up the incline, “but it might last long enough to give us a chance.”
He continues to protest, telling me over and over that I have to leave him and save myself, but I ignore him. Instead, I focus on dragging him up the incline. Although I almost slip several times, I manage to stay upright and eventually I get to the edge of the road. It takes one final burst of energy to haul Pickles over the top, but finally I drop down to the ground.
I did it.
My arms are stinging, but I did it.
Looking back down, I see that Doctor Cole is still trying to drag herself toward us. The branch remains in place, and I watch in horror as her torso starts to tear apart. Doctor Cole's still snarling, and her hunger is so great that finally she tears herself in two, leaving the lower part of her chest still pinned to the ground along with her legs, while her head, arms and shoulders start dragging themselves up the incline.
“She really is...”
My voice trails off. I guess there's no room for doubt now. She really is dead, yet somehow she's managing to keep moving.
Hurrying to the truck, I pull the side doors open and then I go back to fetch Pickles. He's still complaining, still telling me to leave him, but I drag him across the ice until we're at the side of the truck. My heart is pounding, and it takes a couple of tries before I manage to haul him up onto the truck's back seat. Then I slam the door shut and hurry around to the driver's side. Once I'm in the seat, I check the radio one more time, just in case it's started to work, and then I slip the keys into the ignition. After a couple of chokes, I'm finally able to get the engine started.
“You have to leave me here,” Pickles groans. “Lucy...”
“You said to go east,” I reply, putting the truck into gear. “We're heading east.”
Just as I'm about to hit the gas pedal, however, I spot something moving ahead of us.
Doctor Cole.
Freed from the weight of her chest and legs, she's managed to crawl up the incline pretty fast. She starts dragging herself one-handed, across the ice, still coming toward us. I hesitate for a moment, staring into her eyes, and then I slam my foot against the pedal.
The truck's wheels spin for a moment before gripping the ice, and the vehicle lurches forward.
“God forgive me!” I scream, squeezing my eyes tight shut.
I wince as soon as I feel us bump straight over the poor woman's head. After a moment, I bring the truck to a halt and turn, opening my eyes and looking out the back. I immediately see the smeared, bloodied remains of Doctor Cole's head on the ice. One of her arms is still twitching, but this time I really don't think she's gonna go anywhere.
“Leave me here!” Pickles gasps from the back seat. “Lucy, don't be an idiot!”
“No way!” I hiss, slamming my foot against the gas pedal. The truck's wheels spin for a moment before gripping the ice, and finally I start driving us back along the twisting mountain road. “I'm taking you to the Larenda Larumba.”
“Lucy -”
“They have a phone there!” I point out, gripping the wheel as tight as I can. “Everything'll be okay, so long as we can get to a phone!”
Four
The lights of the Larenda Larumba are still on. Even the red neon sign is still illuminated, burning bright through the snow. Still, having driven for miles and finally parked in the diner's parking lot, I still haven't quite mustered the courage to get out of the truck. For one thing, I don't see any sign of life inside the diner, despite there being several cars parked nearby.
For another, Pickles died about ten minutes ago.
Turning, I look at him again. He's still resting on his side, on the back seat, and his eyes are still open. He let out his final gasp while we were pulling into the parking lot, but I told him to just hang on while I parked.
“You'll be fine, Lucy,” he whispered.
Even at the end, he was trying to make me feel better.
“You'll be fine, Lucy.”
And then, after I'd brought the truck to a halt and switched the engine off, I turned to him and found that I was too late. I checked his pulse, but there was nothing. I shook him, I called his name over and over, but still he didn't respond. Now, with tears streaming down my face, I know there's nothing more I can do. But I also know that sitting here like a melon isn't going to change anything, and Pickles would darn well want me to get on with things.
“I'm gonna go inside,” I say finally, wiping fresh tears away. “Okay? I'm gonna go inside and call for help.”
Like an idiot, I wait for an answer.
The only sound, however, is the snow-filled wind howling through the darkness outside.
Finally I open the truck's door and climb out, taking care to slam it shut again. I'm shivering in the night air, but Pickles' death has left me feeling strangely numb. Even now, I can't help peering through the window and watching him for a moment, feeling a flicker of hope that maybe – just maybe – he'll suddenly stir and it'll turn out that his death was a big misunderstanding. I'd give anything to get him back and, as I continue to stare at his corpse, I can't shake the feeling that I've let him down.
“I'll go find a phone,” I mumble, turning and starting to trudge across the snowy lot. “Sorry, Pickles. I'm really -”
I catch myself just in time. There's no need to start talking to a dead man.
When I get to the Larenda Larumba's front door, I find that it's unlocked, even though we're well past closing time. I step inside, fully expecting to see Jean or one of the other waitresses, but the place seems completely deserted. After a moment, however, I see that there's broken glass all over the floor, along with what look like the remains of smashed cups and plates. I've only been to the Larenda Larumba a few times, but I'd definitely gotten the impression that it was a clean, well-maintained place, run by people who have pride in their diner. Now, as I make my way past the booths and see dirty plates everywhere, I can't help feeling that something must be very wrong.
“Hello?” I call out. “Anyone home?”
When I get to the service desk, I look through toward the brightly-lit kitchen, but the whole place still seems deserted.
“Hello? Is anyone here? I need to use your phone! It's an emergency!”
The diner is so quiet and empty, my voice almost seem to echo.
Figuring that there must have been some kind of emergency, I step around the counter, figuring I can use the phone on the wall. Before I can try that, however, I stop in my tracks as I see thick streaks of blood smeared across the tiled floor. Whoever was here and whatever happened to them, they lost enough blood to fell an average person, although I don't see any sign of a body. There are some bloodied hand-prints on the wall, however, and I instinctively reach for my gun, only to quickly remember that I'm no longer armed.
“Fudge,” I whisper, trying to stay calm. “This isn't good. This really isn't good.”
I stay completely still for a moment, trying to figure out what to do, before finally hurrying to the kitchen's swing-door and pushing it open. I look through, hoping against hope that I'll find somebody who can explain what's going on, but all I see is more blood splattered against the far wall. Several pots and pans are on the floor, as if they were pushed off the counter-tops at some point, and it looks like some plates of food were tossed aside too, leaving fries and burgers all over the place.
“Hello?” I shout, once again reaching for my long-gone gun. “Jean? Anybody?”
I wait, before heading over to the wall-phone. Picking up the receiver, I'm about to dial 911 when I realize that I don't hear a tone. I tap at the numbers anyway, hoping that they'll work in an emergency, but the phone seems dead. I try several more times, while trying to force m
yself not to panic, and then I carefully set the phone back on its cradle and take a step back. I swear, somehow the silence of the diner seems to be getting stronger, and finally I turn and look back across the kitchen, convinced that at some point something has to happen.
Spotting a TV on top of the refrigerator, I hurry over and reach up, switching it on but immediately seeing only a blue screen with a message about there being no signal. Grabbing the remote from the counter, I start cycling through the channels, but nothing's working. CNN, Fox, MSNBC... Every single one of them seems to have stopped broadcasting, which is something I honestly think I've never experienced before. Heck, most news channels keep on pumping out reports even when nothing much is really happening. As I continue to flick through more channels, I realize that the entire broadcasting system seems to be offline.
“Stay calm, Lucy,” I mutter, stepping back until I bump against one of the counters. “Come on, don't lose your head now. You've gotta stay calm.”
I can't stay calm, though. In fact, I can feel a rush of pure panic starting to explode in my chest, to the extent that I'm actually getting a little breathless. I tell myself to focus on taking slow, deep breaths, but nothing seems to be working, and finally I turn and stumble back out of the kitchen, bumping into the door as I head around the counter and -
Hearing a bump over my shoulder, I spin around, half-expecting to find somebody behind me.
“Hello?” I call out.
Silence.
“Hello!” I yell. “Is anyone here? Please, if there's someone here, can you come out?”
No reply.
I take a step forward.
“If -”
Suddenly I slip on the blood-splattered floor, and I quickly crash down against the tiles. I let out a winded groan as I immediately haul myself back up, but my hip is agony as I start limping past the end of the counter and over to the diner's main door. I don't even know where I'm going, not really, but I know one thing.