by SP Durnin
"Something pretty damn dangerous." Jake took the quartet of magazines Maggie thrust at him and stuffed them into his still nasty-smelling tac-vest.
"Wanna share?" said redhead demanded, letting loose with a double-tap at the dead.
Jake ruefully noted she killed another zombie with those rounds. Not too shabby for shooting under stressful conditions, let alone from the turret of a moving vehicle.
"George, slow us down a bit," he called out against the wind.
"Why the hell would I wanna do that?" Fosted demanded.
Oh, this idea would go over almost as well as a fart in a spacesuit.
"Because I'm going to get out and lead them away," Jake replied, levering himself up onto the roof of the Humvee.
There were various, emphatic protests from his companions. The most pertinent and vocal of which (naturally) came from Laurel.
"Are you out of your fucking mind?" she yelled hotly. Laurel's face was the picture of towering rage.
"Believe me, the last thing I wanna do is have a rerun of 'Dodge the Zombie' like I did back in Columbus, but…"
She cut him off, took hold of Jake's belt, and yanked him unceremoniously back towards the turret hatch. "Sometimes, I swear you're a goddamn lunatic! Where exactly, inside that bone-filled block you wear on top of your neck, do suicidal-fucking-ideas like that come from? Do you have a death-wish or…"
Jake grabbed his raging lover by her shoulders and the look on his face brought her tirade up short.
"We can't fight that many!" he snapped, shaking her slightly and glancing back at the awful crowd slowly coming after them, "We can't lead them back to the others, either! So somebody has to wait until the rest of you are out of sight, then draw them off! It's the only way!"
"But why does it always have to be you!" Laurel screamed. She knew his reasoning was sound, but that meant Jake was putting himself in the cross-hairs for them, and her, again.
"Because, whether I like it or not, I'm the leader of this dysfunctional little group. That means it's my call, my responsibility." He smiled wryly, gave her a warm kiss, then climbed over the roof's edge to stand outside the driver's side running board.
As Foster swerved the Hummer around an abandoned Chrysler 300, Jake told George his plan.
"Head back the way we came until you're well out of sight. At least two miles," Jake said, readying himself. "I'll draw them back into Wilmington proper a ways, try to lose them in the side streets and alleys, then hole up somewhere. It will likely take a while to lead off that many, so give me a full day before anyone starts panicking. I've still got one of our radios, but I'd rather not use it in case more of those raiders are in the area. If I land in the shit…"
"You get your ass back ta' the hangar, soon as you can. Once these pricks," George motioned behind them at the horde, "are clear. Don't worry. I'll get everyone ready to come runnin', just in case you need savin'."
"I'll be fine, Chief."
Foster stuck a thick index finger in Jake's face. "Don't fuck around with me on this, boy! Too many people'd miss your sorry ass for you to get eaten. You make me come lookin' for you, I won't care if you've been zombified or not. I will whip your ass."
"Understood." Jake shot the older man a nervous grin. "Try to keep Laurel from flying apart worrying about me. You know how she gets."
Foster snorted. "Forget that, O'Connor. Your girl starts gettin' all weepy or somethin', I'll foist her off on Gertie. She's good at dealin' with that kind'a thing. My job's killin' stuff."
"You're a sexist dick sometimes, George." Laurel sniffed, then glared at Jake around Elle from the rear seat. "And you better come back safe. You hear me?"
"Do my best." Jake tensed and readied himself as Foster began to drop their speed.
"Don't sweat it roomie, I'll keep our hero out of trouble."
Jake started, almost losing his grip on the steel re-bar crisscrossing the Humvee's window in the process, and looked up. Kat stood on their bouncing vehicle's roof, hands on her hips, short hair whipping in the lessening wind, absently retaining her balance with all the ease of her namesake.
"What are you doing?" he demanded.
The pretty Asian laughed. "Coming with you of course. Duh! Like you'd last ten minutes without me watching your back?"
"No you're fucking not! I'm…!"
"We don't really have time to debate this." Kat crossed her arms under her breasts, tilting her head in amusement as a smile brightened her exotic features. "Our smelly friends back there are still pretty determined to catch up with us, and between you and me? They don't seem to know when to quit, so I doubt they'll stand around while we argue. Worse than Jehovah's Witnesses."
Laurel bit her lip. Kat tagging along would improve Jake's chances of survival a thousand-fold. While she had a tendency to make odd (if not bubble-headed) comments occasionally, Kat did possess a prerequisite set of ninja skills. Stealth, acrobatics and, if the situation called for it, a totally ruthless attitude. Laurel would have both of them to worry about now.
"Take Kat along!" Laurel called, "She'll be able to help you avoid those things! If she can focus on staying alive and not on every little shiny object she passes, that is."
"Love you too!" Kat flipped from the Hummer's roof as Foster brought it to a brief halt, and paused as Jake leapt from its running-board. "And don't worry, this is gonna be fun!"
"Great. Just great! Can you be serious and help me figure out how to live through the next few minutes?" Jake fumed, watching as the others reluctantly roared away in Rae's Army-green machine. "I was thinking we'll head south first, loop around into the center of town, and try to keep those things moving west. That way, maybe they'll just keep walking in the same direction and not decide to turn around once they lose sight of us."
"Sounds good." Kat trotted easily beside him as they jogged into the streets of Wilmington. "What do we do about a hiding place? I mean, there can't be many safe locations here. If there were, there'd be survivors around, right?"
Jake considered that. "Good point. Damn. I hope you're wrong."
"Well, let's narrow it down a bit." Kat glanced back. Yep. The zombies were still following. "We know a few places that would be out, right off the bat. Police stations, firehouses, government buildings..."
"Hospitals too. We don't want to go anywhere near those. Dead in the surrounding area would most likely be thick as flies on a fresh dog turd."
Kat wrinkled her nose. "Well, thanks for that image. So basically; we need a building that's easy to secure, that's not anywhere near what we consider hot zones, and someplace people wouldn't normally go."
"You got it. Considering we know virtually nothing about this town doesn't help either. Remember, we just happened on that Agri-Supply?" Jake scanned the street ahead. There were no suitable locations he could pick out. "Just have to keep our eyes open. Besides, we have to draw our friends back there off first. Then we'll look for a hiding spot."
They circled south around a previously well-maintained Williams Memorial Park, crossed Fife Avenue, turned south through a small subdivision, then continued east on Elm Street. Jake thought it ironic that the two of them would most likely be eviscerated (and eaten) on a street once famous for a fictional, movie serial killer with a weakness for knife-fingered gloves.
He and Kat began looking for an opportune place to ditch their necrotic followers, just after passing the town's YMCA and the local college. There were all manner of abandoned homes and businesses along their path, ranging from cookie-cutter single-family pre-fabs to century-old stone and mortar constructions. Wilmington would've been a picturesque Midwestern town, prior to the zombies rising. Somewhere you'd have seen local firefighters handing out candy to kids during the hokey parade, before everyone headed to town hall for the yearly 4th of July ox roast. It irked Jake that even if the impossible happened, and someone found a way to eradicate every zombie currently walking about the world, the days of small town barbeques and pie eating competitions were likely gone
for good. People born after, or during, the global apocalypse they were currently struggling to survive would never feel completely safe. Children of the next generation would never have the oh-so-precious security of youth. The knowledge that, as the song went, everything is gonna be alright. They would never have an innocent childhood, free from fear of the dead.
Realizing if he continued navel-gazing he wouldn't be around to see next week, never mind the next decade, Jake shoved the morbid thoughts away and focused on his surroundings.
They were miles from their refuge now, so George and the others would be able to enter unmolested and, more importantly, unnoticed by zombies. It wouldn't be safe for Jake and Kat to return until well after nightfall, however. They still encountered the occasional roaming ghoul as they jogged along, so all the creatures within the town weren't part of the pack trailing them. These odd maggot-heads, while still deadly, weren't much of a threat for the jogging pair. To save their ammunition, the survivors opted for their melee weapons. Jake slung the M4 across his back, pulled his crowbar from the modified shotgun sheath along his spine, and Kat drew her grandfather's sword. Any creatures that got uncomfortably close either lost their heads (quite literally) to the edge of Kat's blade, or had their brains splattered across the landscape by Jake's motivated bludgeoning via crowbar.
While the pretty Asian seemed to be enjoying herself, Jake was torn. Every zombie had at one point been someone's family member. They'd had people who cared about them, spent time with them, loved them, maybe even missed them now that they were dead. A sharp twinge of guilt punctuated his swings as he buried the crowbar's hook end into dead skulls. This was offset by a dull, but swiftly increasing, anger over the awful things. They scared him. That was normal. Who wouldn't be frightened when confronted by a real zombie? What he felt wasn't fear, though. It was disgust at the very thought of a mobile, hungry corpse. He found their existence offensive. As if, even though he knew the belief to be irrational, zombies as a whole thumbed their noses at the natural order of the universe. No, the slow-burning in his gut wasn't fear.
It was hate.
Hate that burned away at him like a small, hot ember of charcoal, fresh from the campfire.
Jake came to that epiphany as he crushed yet another creature's skull. This one, in life, had been one of Wilmington's Sheriff deputies. The thing staggered from a side street as they passed, its tan uniform coated with long-dried blood and bits of its face that had rotted away. Jake paused and took in the vacant-eyed thing. The gore-incrusted star it still wore on its chest, the comically-tilted cowboy-style hat covering its flaking scalp, the empty holster at its hip beneath a right arm that had been gnawed off at the elbow. The way its face took on a hellish, hungry expression as the zombie stumbled at him, one-remaining hand stretched out to clutch its prey. It pissed him off.
Swaying back to build momentum, the fuming writer smashed his crowbar mightily down upon the crown of the creature's skull. The tool's chisel tip smashed its way into the zombie's head easily and turned the horror's brain to mush. The thing dropped without a sound, and Jake yanked the hook free to jog after Kat.
She'd just dealt with another zombie in their path with a devastating side kick. The power transferred up Kat's leg from the swaying fulcrum of her leather-clad hips as she skipped forward, smoothly shot past the hinge of her fully-extended knee as her foot went vertical, shot out through the sole of her heavy biker boot, and caught the creature in the point of its jaw, cleanly knocking its head free from its neck. Jake's eyebrows went up as the zombie's still-snapping head sailed over a nearby mail truck, bounced into an open manhole, and disappeared.
"Woah. That was hot," Jake was impressed. "On a side note: remind me not to piss you off."
Kat beamed at him.
While amused by his companion's antics, in Jake's opinion it was high time to ditch their carnivorous fan club and go to ground, so the pair put on a burst of speed and made for the next intersection.
"What now?" She asked, as they skirted around the corner of Douglas Street to turn north on College.
Jake shook his head and ran on. When they passed the Sheppard A. Watson Library, Kat grabbed his arm and pointed across the lawns. "What about there?"
Following her gaze past the roadside parking lot, Jake saw a large, brick building, half-hidden by the overgrown trees and ground cover. It was a four-story affair with steel doors and barred windows set far too high for even the most determined zombie to gain access.
"That could be just what the doctor ordered. Let's look"
They raced across the lot and into the trees. Upon closer inspection of the plaque on its door, Jake learned they'd found the "Old Hall" or College Hall. Built originally in 1865, said structure housed the Admissions and Academic Affairs offices of Wilmington College, as well as a few classrooms and the president's office.
"This is perfect!" Kat hopped up and down in excitement.
"Not really, but it'll damn-sure do until tonight." Jake doubted there were any consumables inside. Not knowing how long they'd have to flee the horde, Jake hadn't brought his pack along and Kat steadfastly refused to wear one. All they had were their weapons, a full canteen of water each, the few items in Jake's tactical vest, and whatever the pouches on Kat's belt contained. Not much in the way of food, to say the least. "Let's find a way in."
They ran for the Hall's far side, desperately hoping for a back entrance, but the only door seemed to be the one out front.
"Well, shit." Jake grumbled, "So much for complying with the state fire code."
"Check it out." Kat grinned and pointed overhead.
Jake looked up to see a newly-painted fire escape, set high on the exterior wall. "Okay? That doesn't really help us gain access to…"
Kat ran at the wall, leapt high, planted one booted foot on its brick face, jumped skyward from there, and caught the bottom rung of the fire escape's ladder with one hand. As Jake watched open-mouthed, she pulled herself up, climbed to the platform and began working the ladder release.
"Crap! They painted over it!" She yanked repeatedly at the latch, but it wouldn't budge.
Jake checked the area. While no zombies were visible yet, he could hear the pod coming from the corner of Douglas. The chorus of gurgling moans was a dead giveaway.
"Break inside and get to the front. I'll go around and you can open the door for me."
After considering that for a moment, Kat shook her head emphatically. "Yeah, forget that idea. Now get your tush up here!"
"How?" Jake demanded, looking back towards the sounds of approaching zombies.
Mounting the ladder again, Kat sped down to the second step, sat down on it, and lowered herself head-first. Gripping the rung with the backs of her knees (like a trapeze artist about to catch another midair), Kat stretched out her hands to Jake. "We don't have all day, you know?"
With a resigned shrug, he slid his crowbar quickly into its scabbard, crouched and jumped with every bit of strength in his legs. His hands smacked against Kat's forearms and she firmly gripped his own as Jake swung gently beneath her.
Oddly enough, as he dangled there momentarily, Jake noticed gravity had a rather appealing effect on the female form. At least, it did when a woman was pleasantly endowed and hanging upside-down. Kat's tank-style belly shirt gaped quite a bit normally, because she liked showing off her firm stomach and the lines of her slim midsection. Now, Jake was treated to a view of Sir Issac Newton's discovery acting upon a world-class set of breasts beneath said shirt as she bore his weight.
"Are you gonna hang there all day or what?"
Reluctantly shaking off his reverie of her anatomical attributes, Jake began pulling himself higher. Kat's toned shoulder muscles tightened as he rose to latch onto the bottom rung, insuring that if Jake slipped, he wouldn't go tumbling back to the cement path below. Once he had a grip she motioned him upward, pulling on his tac-vest.
"Too dangerous for me to squirm around to let you by. Go up past me."
Jake gave her a raised eyebrow.
Kat rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Just climb."
"Alright, alright. Jeez."
Powering up by the strength of his biceps, Jake managed to gain the next rung. Kat aided his efforts by pushing him up from below (by way of shamelessly taking a firm, double handful of his buttocks) as he slid against her. She could have simply retained her grip on his vest, but where was the fun in that? Besides, he'd been looking up her shirt. Fair was fair.
Once they were both safely on the platform, Kat pulled the lock-pick set from the top of her boot and swiftly opened the nearby window. Both of them scrambled inside past the blinds and secured it tightly again. None too soon, as it turned out.
The horde came abreast of the parking lot next door and began moving past their hiding place. Breathing heavily from their acrobatic exertions, Kat and Jake watched through a small gap in the blinds as first dozens, then hundreds of zombies shuffled by along the street.
"I know I said this would be fun and all," Kat panted, her lips so close that a thrill of pleasure danced up Jake's spine at the feeling of her breath against his ear, "but damn, there's a lot of them."
He nodded and glanced around the room. They sheltered in a small office, most likely the Financial Aid counselor's if the grant information adorning its walls was any indication.
"We should check the rest of the building. Just in case." Jake reached for his crowbar.
"Give it a minute," Kat urged quietly. She absently wrapped one arm around his waist and continued observing the dead outside, "Let's wait until they move on, okay? If there are any zombies in here, dealing with them might cause enough noise for others out there to notice."
Jake couldn't fault her reasoning and remained where he stood. After a few minutes of watching the horrific parade slowly move along beside the Hall, he put one arm lightly around Kat's shoulders. She in return stepped against him and twined her hands together at the small of his back. There was no intentional sensuality in their movements, simply the need to touch and be touched by another living person in the face of all that death.