The Way of All Flesh

by Tim Waggoner

  In a rare display of cooperation, a group of zombies work together to feed on one of their own. My companion and I watch mere yards from the grisly scene, and we can only hope the smell of zombie blood will mask our own scent, or else we might well find ourselves in quite a bit of trouble.

  Marie squeezed her hand again, and Kate forced her mind to focus. After a few seconds, she realized that Marie continued to hold on to her hand and that, despite the horrible situation they were in, the simple contact was reassuring. More than that, it felt good.

  Marie leaned in close and whispered in Kate’s ear. Her breath was warm, and Kate felt a quiver in her belly, followed by a surprising—but not altogether unpleasant—tingling between her legs.

  Don’t be a child! she scolded herself. Getting horny and distracted with a group of feeding zombies close by was not the best survival strategy.

  “Look at David,” Marie said.

  Kate didn’t know what she was talking about at first, but then she understood. Despite the fact that he’d been the one to wound the naked zombie, he’d made no move to join in the feast. His hand was covered in the other male’s tarry blood, and he held it in front of his face, his head cocked slightly to the side, as if he was actually thinking. Could it be true, or was she merely imagining it because she so desperately wanted it to be true? Was it possible that something of the man her brother had been still existed somewhere inside that disease-ravaged body, even if only a spark?

  Finding David had been easier than she’d thought. It had been Marie who’d suggested she try to connect to David through their “shared psychic bond”, as she’d called it. Kate had thought the idea was crazy at first, but she’d closed her eyes and concentrated on David. Not as he was now, but as he used to be, back before the world had gone swirling down the shitter. A memory had popped into her mind then, of a Christmas Eve when they’d been kids.

  After their parents had gone to bed, they’d snuck down to the living room and hopped on the couch. They’d huddled together beneath a comforter and watched the lights on the tree glowing softly and waited for Santa to arrive. Kate had no idea how long they’d managed to stay awake—probably not long. The next thing they knew, it was morning, their parents were gently shaking them awake, and there were presents piled around the base of the tree. But the strongest part of this memory was the two of them sitting side by side on the couch beneath the comforter, neither speaking, neither needing to. They were warm and they were together, just as they had been in their mother’s womb.

  And that’s when Kate knew where to look for David—the Briarwood Elementary playground.

  Now that she was here, Kate knew she should step out of hiding and put David, Steve and Lizzie down. But she couldn’t make herself move. She tried to tell herself that her reluctance was due to the number of zombies on the playground. She didn’t have enough ammunition to take them all out, and even if she did, she wouldn’t be able to fire and reload fast enough to prevent at least a few of them from reaching her and Marie. She was willing to risk being devoured by the stinking corpses if it meant she could release David and the kids before she was killed, but she wasn’t willing to risk Marie’s life.

  Which was true enough. But the deeper reason, one that she didn’t want to fully admit to herself, was that if the twin link still existed between herself and David—even if only on the most tenuous level—did that mean that somewhere inside that distorted mockery of a body, her brother still existed? And if that was the case, was the same true for other zombies? Did that mean that every time she’d killed a zombie, she hadn’t been putting down a mindless monster but killing a person? She couldn’t remember how many zombies she’d killed since becoming a Ranger. Dozens at least, maybe even a hundred or more. The thought sickened her. Was she, in her own way, as much of a monster as the creatures she’d slain?

  She turned to Marie, intending to tell her that she wanted to get the hell out of there. But before she could speak, the sound of an engine cut through the night air, startling her. It had been so long since she’d heard a vehicle running that it took her a second to recognize the sound. She and Marie exchanged confused looks. Who the fuck would be stupid enough to drive around town, and at night yet? The noise would draw every zombie for miles around. And if enough zombies packed the street, you wouldn’t be able to drive through the wall of flesh and bone they’d create. You might take out some of them, maybe even a lot, but you’d never get them all. You’d have to be insane or suicidal to drive at night after Blacktide—probably both.

  Marie whispered in her ear again, and again she felt, as the romance novelists say, a “stirring in her loins”.

  “Wouldn’t it be funny if the zombies have learned to drive?”

  “Fucking hilarious,” Kate muttered.

  Headlights appeared around the side of the building, and the engine noise grew louder as the vehicle drew close. A moment later a pickup truck roared onto the playground, occupants whooping and hollering in delight, hard-rock music blaring from the CD player. The driver aimed the truck at the pile of writhing zombies and hit the gas. David stood in the way, and Kate almost shouted a warning to him—not that it would’ve done any good—but he managed to fling himself to the side in time, only getting clipped on the foot by the vehicle’s bumper. Kate knew the relief she felt was foolish. Better the truck had hit David and put him out of his misery, but she still felt glad he hadn’t been hurt, at least not badly.

  The pickup rammed into the feeding zombies, scattering a good portion of them. The savagery of the act took Kate’s breath away, and a part of her thought, Too bad Nicholas isn’t here to see this. He’d find it amusing. And then she remembered—Steve and Lizzie were among the feeding zombies. The driver put the pickup in Park, and left the engine running as he got out. Another man joined him, along with a woman, all in their late teens or early twenties, all armed—the males with axe and machete, the girl with a shotgun. The trio lost no time in attacking the zombies, the boys targeting those zombies who hadn’t been injured when the pickup slammed into them, the girl hanging back, shotgun at the ready, picking off any zombie that got too close to her companions. The boys went to work with savage gusto, hacking and slashing, sending gouts of tarry, black zombie blood into the air.

  “Good thing zombie blood isn’t as infectious as in the movies,” Marie whispered. “Otherwise, those guys would be infected for sure.”

  Kate didn’t reply. She was too busy trying to figure out who these three thrill seekers were. She knew every survivor staying at the high school—it wasn’t as if there were that many of them—and these three weren’t among them. As far as she was aware, no one else lived in town. No one still human, anyway. She supposed it was possible that they were from a neighboring town, but she figured it more likely that they were Dempseys, or at least people who had chosen to hole up with them out in the country.

  She had no idea how many of them there were, but Rangers would see them from time to time, scavenging in town. Both sides gave the other a wide berth, which was just fine as far as Kate was concerned. She’d taught a few Dempseys over the years, and while she didn’t like to judge a child by the family he or she came from, the Dempsey children she’d taught had all possessed a mean streak a mile wide. Some apples really didn’t fall too far from the tree. Especially the rotten ones.

  “What do you want to do?” Marie asked. She still hadn’t let go of Kate’s hand.

  “Do?”

  Marie shrugged. “He is your brother…”

  Kate checked on David and saw that he’d risen to his feet and was making his way toward the Dempseys, dragging his broken foot like a mummy in an old black-and-white movie. His injury slowed him down some, but he still moved at a faster clip than normal. At first she thought he was simply interested in sinking his teeth into one of the humans, like the other zombies. But his movements seemed more deliberate, almost purposeful, and she had the sense that he wasn’t going after the Dempseys to fill his belly, but rathe
r to protect his children. Intellectually, she knew it was a ridiculous notion, but emotionally she felt it was true.

  Well, if her brother was going after the Dempseys, he’d need backup.

  She pulled her hand free of Marie’s. Her rifle lay on the ground next to them, and she took hold of it.

  “Stay here. Stay safe.”

  On impulse, she gave Marie a quick kiss, and then she turned away and started toward the playground.

  “Do you hear that?” Joe said.

  Of course Nicholas had. But he thought it would be more fun to pretend as if he hadn’t.

  “Hear what?” he said, all innocence.

  “A car engine, I think. Off that way.” Joe gestured southward, and Nicholas tried not to smirk. The idiot had been fooled by echoes. The sound was coming from the west.

  “Who do you think it is?” Joe asked, voice thick with anxiety. Nicholas loved hearing the man’s fear, but at the same time he despised him for his weakness.

  “It’s not one of our people, but other than that…” Nicholas trailed off without finishing the thought. He wanted to see what Joe would do next.

  After he’d finished playing with Sarah in the shed, Nicholas had snuck back into the high school. But instead of feeling refreshed and relaxed, he felt irritated and out of sorts. Zombies could be diverting, but they were no substitute for the living. Besides, their very existence was a spit in his eye, a reminder that no matter what he did, he could never be as big a monster as they were. So when Joe came to his quarters and told him that Kate and Marie were gone, and that one of the sentries had seen them leaving the high school, he’d sensed the opportunity for a little fun.

  You’re worried about Marie, aren’t you? No need to say anything. It’s written all over your face. You’re afraid that she’s been pushing her luck too much lately, and even with Kate along to protect her, going out at night is suicide. You want to see her return unharmed, but there’s only one way to make sure that happens, and you know it. We have to go find her and bring her back—before it’s too late.

  Nicholas was well aware of Joe’s agoraphobia. He might not experience emotions the same way that other humans did, or even fully understand them, for that matter. But like any good predator, he could read people as if they were neon billboards a hundred feet high. Joe might put up a good front as Savior of the Zombie Apocalypse, but he was terrified of the undead. So Nicholas was curious to see if his concern for Marie would overcome his fear of going outside.

  Okay, Joe had said, a lot sooner than Nicholas had expected. Let’s go.

  Nicholas had assured Joe that he’d be able to track Kate and Marie, and the dumbass believed him. Probably played too many video games where a warrior possessed preternatural tracking skills, he figured. He had no idea where Kate or Marie had gone, and even if he could’ve tracked them, he wouldn’t have bothered to. He hoped they’d return to the school safely, of course. He’d hate for Kate or Marie to die by anyone’s hand but his own.

  But tonight’s field trip wasn’t about rescuing the women—not that either of them needed rescuing. It was about watching Joe live his nightmare scenario: wandering through a zombie-infested town at night. For the better part of an hour, Nicholas had led Joe on a winding wild goose chase through town—crossing overgrown yards, traveling down cramped alleys, both of them taking refuge in the shadows at every skirl of a dry leaf blowing across a sidewalk or the flap of wings as a bird took flight. They’d encountered zombies too, naturally, but so far Nicholas had been able to make sure they avoided detection by the ravenous creatures.

  Presently, they were walking through the parking lot of a strip mall that contained a coffee shop, a pizza joint, a half-price smokes store and a gluten-free restaurant. The windows of each establishment had been broken out some time ago, probably by zombies trying to get at humans hiding inside, and the lot contained a dozen vehicles abandoned by their drivers. A number of the cars and trucks had broken windows as well.

  Nicholas had brought Joe here for a reason. A couple years ago he’d killed a young woman who worked at the coffee shop, and coming here always brought back warm, red memories.

  They listened as the sound of the engine grew louder, and then backed off a little. A moment later they heard the unmistakable sound of gunshots.

  “Is that Kate?” Joe asked. He sounded so afraid that Nicholas wouldn’t have been surprised if the man pissed his pants.

  “No. She carries a rifle. That sounds like a shotgun.”

  “So someone could be firing at her—and Marie.”

  “More likely whoever it is, is shooting at zombies,” Nicholas said, “but I suppose it’s possible that Kate and Marie are mixed up in it somehow.”

  “We should—should go check. Now. They might need us.” The quaver in his voice, along with the lack of conviction in his tone, told Nicholas that Joe most definitely did not want to head toward the sound of the gunfire. But it appeared he intended to anyway. Nicholas wondered if this was what other people called courage. If so, it seemed more like stupidity to him.

  “All right. If that’s what you want.”

  Nicholas had been carrying his rifle at the ready ever since they’d left the high school. Now he shifted his grip on the weapon, stepped toward Joe, raised it and slammed the butt against the other man’s head. Joe dropped to the ground like his bones had turned to water.

  Nicholas looked down at Joe’s unconscious body for a few moments as gunfire continued to sound off to the west. He could hear a rifle discharging now, along with the shotgun. Be careful, Kate, he thought. Save yourself for me.

  He slung his rifle over his shoulder, bent down, took hold of Joe’s wrists and began dragging him across the asphalt toward the coffee shop.

  David wished he had a weapon of some kind. Not a gun—he didn’t feel coordinated enough to work one—but a knife would be good. Hell, he’d settle for something he could use as a club. He didn’t think bare hands would do much against the demons, but they were all he had to work with.

  As he walked toward the ravaging demons, he passed several injured people—adults as well as children—who had been thrown to the side when the pickup from Hell collided with the mass of cannibals feeding on Principal Dickless. They were all in bad shape: broken limbs, broken necks, burst abdomens, split skulls… But their wounds seemed of no concern to them. They didn’t lie there, moaning and writhing in pain. Instead, they fought to get at the demons, hobbling like David or, if necessary, crawling across the grass, inch by torturous inch. A few were too damaged to manage even that, but they still strained toward the demons, reaching with scrabbling hands or, if nothing else was left to them, snapping teeth in their direction, eyes blazing with hunger and hate.

  None of the demons noticed his approach, so caught up were they in the joy of slaughter. They killed with a savage abandon that sickened David. He didn’t remember the other demons he’d encountered being this bloodthirsty.

  The female was the closest to him, and he went for her. Her back was to him, which was to his advantage, and he did his best to approach quietly. Although given as much noise as the demons were making, he thought he could have approached her while wearing tap shoes on a hardwood floor, and she still wouldn’t have heard him.

  But as he passed the driver’s side of the pickup—engine still running, high-pitched sounds like screams coming from the CD player—he saw that several people were trapped beneath the vehicle. Some were motionless, while others fought to crawl free, but the one that caught his attention was the body of a child. It lay on the ground next to the front wheel, neck ending in a bloody stump and a jutting nub of bone, brains smeared on and around the wheel. David recognized the child’s clothing, which was good, as the body’s facial features had been smashed into pulp by the pickup’s wheel, making identification impossible otherwise.

  It was Steve. His son. His little boy.

  It was that moment, while he was gazing down upon Steve’s headless body, that the female demon
became aware of his presence. She whirled around, snarled and leveled her bone-and-meat shotgun at him. David felt energy surge through his body, and he leaped toward the demon with a speed he hadn’t known he possessed. He was distantly aware of her shotgun discharging, felt a hard impact on his left shoulder, but he ignored it. He slammed into the demon and wrapped his hands, both slick with blood—some his, some the principal’s—around her throat. His weight bore her to the ground, and they landed in a pool of blood created by the demon’s wanton slaughter.

  David couldn’t read the demon’s inhuman features well enough to gauge her reaction to his attack, and he didn’t care. He let go of her throat, opened his mouth wide, wide, wide, and then bit into the soft flesh of her neck. The demon shrieked, but only for an instant, for her throat filled with blood, and the only sound she could make after that was a thick liquid gurgle. The blood that gushed from her wound filled David’s mouth with a tidal wave of sensation so intense that it momentarily swept away his self-awareness. It was like every dessert, alcoholic drink, drug and cup of coffee he’d ever had in his life combined into a single overpowering rush. If he had taken the exposed wires of a high-voltage cable and touched them to his tongue, the electricity that coursed through his body wouldn’t even come close to equaling the power of what he now experienced.

  As if from a great distance away, he was dimly aware of something striking his back, once, twice, three times, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was continuing to experience this unbelievable feeling, one so far beyond ecstasy that he doubted there was a name for it in any of the languages on Earth.

  David continued biting, increasing the pressure until his upper and lower teeth met.

  The female demon gave one last wet shriek and then fell silent forever.