Canary nodded and headed for the corner. While the others took down the tarp quietly and made sure all the packs were secure, she took out her screwdriver and began tapping the metal end on the edge of the roof. It didn’t take long for the zombies to start getting riled up and making their way toward her, especially when she began whispering down at them, proving she was a living human and not just some wind-blown object.
Doyle peered over the edge, watching the last of the zombies make their way around the building. Despite the fact that the bookstore was only one storey high, the ground seemed very far below. It wasn’t the height that bothered Doyle; it was knowing how easily he could land wrong and break his ankle.
When Canary gave a thumbs up, James didn’t hesitate. He scrambled up onto the ledge, then hopped off the other side, hitting the ground and rolling with practised ease. Once he made sure that none of the zombies were coming to him, he waved for the packs to be passed down. One by one, Doyle dropped their bags over the side, where James caught each one and placed it out of the way. The weight of the books constantly threatened to knock him over with their impact. Then Rose was helped over the side. Doyle lowered her as much as he could with James half catching her to make sure she landed gently on her feet.
Turning back to Canary, Doyle waved her over. He wasn’t going to leave the roof until he was sure everyone else had. Canary picked her way across the roof, not using the creepy yet silent method she had employed earlier. The zombies were groaning loudly enough now that they swallowed up most of the sound. Doyle lowered Canary over the side of the roof the same way as Rose, being careful with her bandaged hand. Although the stealthy blonde could probably get down easily on her own, she still wasn’t wearing shoes, so it was better not to take the risk. Once she was down, Rose handed over her boots.
It was Doyle’s turn next. With no one to lower him, he had to use the same method as James. As his feet hit the ground, he let his legs collapse beneath him. He didn’t roll nearly as neatly as James had, he couldn’t just spring back up onto his feet afterward, but when he came to a stop in an awkward sprawl he found his legs hadn’t been busted up. Scrambling up onto his feet, he quickly joined the others who had just slung on their packs. Taking his from James, Doyle shrugged into it as they ran, not caring where they went for the moment, so long as it was away from the bookstore.
Doyle had to suppress the urge to laugh, his body sore yet delighted to be running. He was reminded of a time when he was a teenager. Some friends had convinced him to join them as they broke into the high school one summer night. They didn’t really do anything, just walked around the dark halls and made a bit of a mess, but a security guard had shown up and nearly caught them. Using a clever trick not that dissimilar from the one used against the zombies, Doyle and his friends had managed to escape, all of them laughing like loons as they fled across the football field.
After they had run a few blocks, James had them slow down and then head into the nearest building: a former fast food joint. They hid inside for a while, sitting behind the counter and watching for any zombies that may have been following them. Satisfied that nothing was going to come staggering in behind the little group, they decided to have breakfast on the dusty floor.
“If we start heading back now, we should get home fairly early tomorrow,” Doyle mentioned to make conversation.
“Good, ’cause we’re runnin’ low on food,” Rose pointed out. They were all eating and drinking less, trying to stretch out what they had.
“This trip certainly went sideways,” Canary commented.
Doyle tried to hide his embarrassment, his shame. It was his fault they were all out here, and it was for such a stupid reason, too. He wished he had never thought of coming out here, that they had all just stayed in the Black Box.
“I’m having fun,” James grinned. “I nearly shit my pants a few times, but it’s good to get the heart going and to remind ourselves why we need our fences.”
Doyle wondered if James had noticed his reaction and was saying that to make him feel better, or whether he was being honest. It was impossible to tell with him.
“Anyone actually know where we are right now?” Rose asked. “Which way is home?”
“I know how to get home from the bookstore, so where are we in relation to that?” Doyle asked, looking at James. He figured James would know.
James shrugged. “I didn’t pay attention to direction out there. I know we’re about five blocks away.”
Canary stood up and looked over the counter out the windows. “I can’t say with complete accuracy from here, but based on the shadows I think we went north.”
“That’s pretty much the complete opposite direction we need to go,” Doyle sighed.
“I suggest we swing east a bit to avoid the zombies at the bookstore, and then pick our way back south again. What do you think?” James turned to Doyle.
“West would actually be better.”
“Then we’ll swing west first.”
“Fine with me,” Rose shrugged.
Canary sat back down.
“How’s your hand?” Doyle asked her, gesturing to the wound she had gotten scrambling up through the skylight.
“It stings a lot, but I think it’s all right.” She lifted her hand to look at the bandage wrapped around it. “It didn’t take very long to stop bleeding, but when I checked earlier, it was still a very angry-looking red.”
“You should get it checked out by a doctor when we get back,” James recommended, “just to make sure it hasn’t gotten infected or something.”
Canary nodded. “That’s the plan.”
The four of them sat quietly with their thoughts as they finished their meal.
“Well, we should get going,” James finally spoke about a minute after the last of them had stopped eating.
Doyle was still feeling stiff as he got up, his joints complaining. He wished for a heat wrap of some kind, or even a long hot bath he’d never get. Based on the way the others were moving, they hoped for the same thing.
James took the lead, guiding them along shop fronts until they reached a street that would take them west. Doyle brought up the rear, checking behind them at least every minute to make sure nothing was following them.
Their pace was slower than it had been previously. Not only were they sore, but they knew a pile of zombies had been in the area recently, and they may not have gotten far.
When they returned to a residential area, it was mutually agreed that they would travel through backyards, taking the time to climb over fences. No one felt particularly safe out in the openness of the streets.
“Did you hear that?” Canary whispered as they approached yet another fence.
James paused with his hands along the top, as he was just about to hoist himself up and peer over.
“I don’t hear anything. Did it come from the other side of the fence?” Doyle asked.
Canary shook her head. “I’m not sure.”
James let go of the next fence and walked along it until he spotted a hole in the wood. Pressing his eye to it, he looked into the next yard.
“I don’t see anything,” he pronounced after watching for half a minute.
“What did it sound like?” Rose asked Canary.
“I’m not sure. By the time I noticed it, it stopped.”
“An unknown sound that could have come from anywhere? There’s no point hanging out for that, let’s keep moving.” James grabbed the top of the fence again and pulled himself up. “Looks clear.” He slipped over the top to the other side.
Doyle quickly tested for rotten or loose boards, and when none were found, he made a stirrup out of his hands to help Rose. With his help, she scrambled up and over into the next yard. Canary continued to hesitate.
“Canary? Come on. If we get out of here, we don’t need to worry about what that sound was.” Doyle hauled himself up the fence. His arms were going to be really tired when they were done.
Canary looked arou
nd one more time, and then followed after him.
The next yard was a weed-eaten mess. Something about it made Doyle think it wasn’t taken care of even before the Day. There were no toys, no barbecue, the porch was small and slumped, and nothing suggested a garden had ever grown there. He was delighted to see a hole already made in the far fence, a board having come loose and sitting cockeyed.
A very loud groan filled the air.
Doyle spun around, pulling his axe off his back and holding it aloft. His eyes darted frantically about the yard, searching for the zombie. The others had the same reaction, but there was nothing. They were alone in the weeds.
“I think that came from the house,” Canary commented.
“A zombie can’t groan that loudly,” James pointed out. “It had to be—”
He didn’t get to finish whatever he had been going to say. A loud pop filled the air, reminding Doyle of his days as a firefighter. When it was immediately followed by a massive creak, he knew what was going to happen a split second before it did; not nearly enough time to warn anyone. The house whose backyard they were in must have suffered extensive water damage or rot, possibly even termites, and the earlier storm had been the final straw. With a lot of snapping, cracking, and a great whoosh, the back half of the house collapsed.
Debris flew through the air: splinters and nails and bits of plaster, amid a great cloud of dust billowing out across the lawn. Doyle quickly raised his arms over his head in the most basic attempt to protect himself as he dropped to the ground. It was over in seconds. Doyle coughed, choking on the dust as he attempted to clear it from his eyes.
“Is everyone okay?” he croaked, trying to spot the others.
“I’m all right,” Rose responded first, somewhere to Doyle’s left.
“Me too,” James called out.
“I’m alive, but I think I need some help.” Canary’s voice was frightfully small sounding.
Doyle pushed himself up, getting to his feet so that he could survey the damage. More than half of the house had collapsed, becoming a pile of debris with a large chunk of the roof sitting on top. A couple of shingles, bits of drywall, insulation, and a few household items continued to fall, unable to hold onto the edge of the house that was still standing. Doyle suspected it wouldn’t be standing for much longer. Already he could hear a few low groans and creaks.
“Where are you, Canary?” he asked, his eyes searching through the yard that had become coated with the grey-brown dusting.
“Here.” Her hand raised up, not too far away. Doyle’s first thought upon seeing it was relief, as she was too far back to have been crushed.
With his boots leaving prints behind him, Doyle made his way over. The moment his eyes figured out proper shapes and colours, he realized what was wrong. A piece of thin copper piping speared straight through the meat of Canary’s calf.
“Don’t try to move,” were the only words able to escape Doyle’s mouth.
“I’m not,” Canary told him.
“What’s wrong?” James staggered over, holding one of his arms, although it wasn’t bleeding. “Oh, shit.”
“Do we pull it out or leave it in?” Rose asked, joining them beside Canary.
“I think you’re supposed to leave it in until a doctor can look at it, just in case it’s plugging up an artery or something,” Doyle answered.
“How am I supposed to get to a doctor like this?” Canary’s voice broke a little. “Are you saying I have to have this thing in my leg for a whole day?”
“Calm down,” James spoke gently, holding out his hands. They were covered in house dust like the rest of him. “Let me take a look before we go making any decisions.” He knelt down beside Canary and began inspecting the wound. He had brushed the dust off the arm he had been holding while walking, and Doyle could see a dark bruise forming there.
“You’re also bleedin’,” Rose spoke to Doyle.
“Huh?”
Rose pointed to his upper arm. When Doyle turned his head to look, he saw that she was right. He wasn’t bleeding much, but that may have only been because a nail was plugging up the hole.
“I sure hope we still got some tetanus shots back at the Box,” Rose commented. “Want me to pull it out? I’ve got a claw hammer.”
“Go for it.”
Doyle couldn’t watch as Rose gently hooked the claw end of her hammer around the nail. She didn’t give him a countdown or anything, just yanked it out with a swift tug. Doyle’s eyes rolled and he gritted his teeth, biting back the urge to cry out.
“All done,” Rose deposited the nail in Doyle’s hand. It was thankfully short, a roofing nail if Doyle wasn’t mistaken.
“I think this is better than it looks,” James pronounced of Canary’s leg.
Doyle sat down nearby, taking some water and bandages out of his pack to patch up the hole in his arm.
“Are you sure? Because it looks pretty bad,” Canary’s voice wavered.
“It’s actually fairly near the surface, not near any arteries. Should be safe to just pull it out.”
“Should be?” Canary questioned him.
“Would you rather keep it in until we get home tomorrow?”
Canary thought it over. “No. Do it.”
“And let’s hurry up, there’s no tellin’ what’ll be drawn here after that,” Rose gestured to the half-collapsed house.
“The rest could go any minute as well,” Doyle added.
James instructed everyone in what to do. They cleaned the wound site, the copper pipe, and prepared the medical supplies.
“I’m going to have to stitch you up,” James told Canary. “Admittedly, I’m not great at it, but I’m all you’ve got right now. I’ll do the best I can. We’ll monitor it closely on the way back, and we’ll take you straight to the doctors when we get home. Sound good?”
“Not really, but as you said, it’s all I’ve got right now.”
“Everyone else ready?” James looked at Doyle and Rose. They both nodded.
Doyle had the worst job, in his opinion. Putting on a pair of James’ gloves so that the rubber palms would give him a better grip, Doyle wrapped his hands around the protruding pipe. The far end had been crumpled and twisted into a pointed spear tip that should retract smoothly.
“When it comes to Band-Aids, do you prefer they get ripped off fast or slow?” Doyle asked Canary.
Just as she was about to answer, he jerked on the copper pipe. The sliding squish revolted him. He had heard similar sounds and felt similar sensations when dealing with the dead, but it was different knowing that Canary was alive. Rose quickly slipped her something to bite down on as a scream attempted to bubble out of her. Thankfully, the pipe came out as smoothly as they had hoped, not causing any extra damage along the way. Once it was clear of Canary’s leg, Doyle was left holding the bloody thing while James set to work. By the end, Rose was lying across Canary to pin her torso, while Doyle struggled to keep her legs still. Without any sort of topical anaesthetic, she felt every pinch and pull of James’ needle. By the time it was all over, with Canary’s leg wrapped in a clean white bandage, the plaster dust on her face had become gummy with sweat.
“You didn’t throw it away, did you?” Canary panted, looking at Doyle. The bit of wood Rose had given her to bite down on had slipped out of her mouth, now marked with clear teeth impressions.
“The pipe? No, it’s right here, why?” Doyle picked it up from beside him.
“I lost my screwdriver during the collapse. I think it would make a good replacement.” She grinned, looking a little bit insane in the process.
A moan came from somewhere other than the remaining house.
“We gotta get going,” James reminded them, stuffing the remaining medical supplies into his pack.
Doyle realized he had dropped his axe during the collapse and had been too concerned about Canary to pick it up. A flash of worry shot through him as he wondered if he had lost it like she had lost her screwdriver. Luckily, the fire axe was
much bigger than a screwdriver and was easily located amongst the layering of dust.
“We’ll go around that house.” James gestured to the hole in the fence they had been heading for before all this happened as he helped Canary up onto her good leg.
Rose picked up Canary’s backpack and strapped it to her front in the reverse position of her own. Doyle took Canary from James, slinging her arm over his shoulder and taking nearly all her weight upon himself. He wished they had time to make some sort of sling for her leg, to keep it held up so that she didn’t risk putting any weight on it.
The group squeezed through the fence and then headed for the street around the far side of the next house. There was no way they could continue climbing over fences with the state Canary was in.
“Christ,” James muttered as he stepped out onto the front lawn first.
As Doyle joined him, he saw what James was worried about. Although they were lucky that the direction they wanted to go was clear, behind them was a different story. A pack of slow zombies was shuffling toward them, originally drawn by the sounds of the house and now lured by the sight of living humans.
“Even walkin’, we can outpace them. Come on.” Rose turned and trudged on, looking small beneath her load of two bags.
Without any other choice, the other three followed. Doyle kept his axe in the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Canary, while she held her bloody pipe on the other side. James soon took the lead again, rifle in hand and at the ready.
“Look, look, look!” Rose stopped, having glanced behind them.
At first Doyle didn’t understand her excitement. The zombies were still coming, passing the half-collapsed house now. Then he noticed that the house was leaning farther forward than its neighbours. With another great crack and a whoosh, the front gave out, the remaining roof sliding down into the street and ploughing into the corpses.
It was impossible not to cheer at the sight. They had finally had a bit of luck.
***
When the sun started setting, they located another place to spend the night. After watching the house collapse, and not up to the task of clearing a whole building, they picked a large garden shed. Once they carried out the standing racks of sports gear, the larger, outdoor kids’ toys, and the lawn mower, there was enough space for three of them to lie down comfortably while the fourth kept watch. With a flashlight and gentle fingers, James checked on Canary’s wound, changing her bandages in the process. They would be out of clean dressing soon.
Defensive Instinct (Survival Instinct Book 4) Page 28