by Tim Moon
Our group had crumbled. That was how thin the margin of error was nowadays.
Katie screamed for me again.
Yeah; now she wanted my help. Now, she needed me. They were ugly thoughts and I mentally kicked myself.
If only we had escaped sooner. We might have had a chance. The fucking zombies made it impossible. Things had gone to hell so fast it made my mind spin. The morning after the infection gripped Miami, the panicked masses had already clogged all the freeways, highways and back roads. Attempts to contain the infected victims failed. So we’d stayed put in my apartment. At the time it was the obvious choice.
After we had decided to stay put and wait for things to get back under control, Katie's attitude switched. Within minutes, she had apologized and become affectionate again. Her two-faced ways disgusted me. I didn’t want her in my home, but I couldn’t turn her out when I had a dozen people taking refuge in my apartment. I mean, come on; I’m not an asshole.
Katie called for me, yet again. Her shout startled me out of my thoughts, but my body didn't respond. I had frozen in place.
She was trying to fight the two infected, but she didn’t know how. Her flailing arms just enticed them more. Katie strutted the catwalk like a Victoria’s Secret Angel but outside of modeling, she was an infant in need of constant tending.
One of the dead managed to catch Katie’s arm and sank its teeth into her bicep. Her shriek made me wince.
“Andy!”
She was as good as dead. I rubbed the back of my neck, hating myself, and started to turn away.
“No, help me!”
The decision had been made for me. Now that she'd been bitten, she would turn and I didn’t want to stay and then have to kill my zombified ex-girlfriend.
Bile burned my throat as I started to leave and something slapped at my shoe. The legless, infected man had crawled back, to paw at me again. His fingers squished against my calf as they slid down unable to grab me. My skin crawled and chills made my shoulders quake. Now, the intense emotions swirling inside me had an outlet. I could still save myself. I jerked my leg away and let loose. After a dozen vicious stomps, his skull was like Humpty Dumpty’s.
No one could put that back together again.
Behind me, Katie continued to plead for help, as the infected fed on her. I glanced back one last time and winced. Her eyes were wild; her hair matted by blood, and she didn’t have a chance of survival. The two infected became three, and then four crowded around. Her hand reached out for me from between the infected as she was overwhelmed. Her eyes were a monsoon of fear, pain and loathing as she sank from view.
I turned and sprinted away.
82
Sweat stung my eyes and my lungs burned almost as much as my legs. So far, I’d run more in one day than in all of last year. Artists don’t generally need amazing stamina for running.
My head felt a little light, so I stopped and leaned against a lamppost to rest. When I wiped my forehead droplets of salty liquid cascaded off the surface, to the sidewalk.
Block after block had blurred past, more than I had the energy to count. The break was well earned; not that it mattered. Miami had had over five million residents before the outbreak. So, no matter how far I ran, there would always be more zombies lurking nearby. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out.
Katie’s death cries still rang in my ears. It didn’t matter that she was far behind and long dead; hot tears mixed with the sweat that ran down my cheeks into my beard. What had I done?
I’d survived. Doubt weighed on me, so I shook away the thoughts and scanned the block for a place to hide. There were cars I could hide in, but the idea of skulking in a car while hundreds of infected strolled past me was too much. Hot-car deaths were legit and even though it was October, the weather was still hot. And what if the zombies stopped? I’d be trapped.
I strode to the nearest building and pulled the door handle. It was locked, so I tried the next one, and then the next. All of them were locked.
Damn it.
Back when things first went to shit the news repeated a warning to, “Lock your doors and stay inside.” For once, people had listened. I lashed out in frustration and kicked the door. It didn’t open, but it did rattle terribly against the locks.
A pair of infected emerged from around the corner and I instantly regretted my outburst. The man and woman shuffled towards me. When I lashed out again, my kick knocked the woman to the side. She collided with the man and they both fell hard. I could hear the woman’s head smack against the concrete.
I backpedaled a few steps before I turned around and jogged to the store on the other side of the road. Pottery and a small statue sat proudly in the windows. The store had double doors and an “Open” sign. However, when I checked, its locked doors thwarted me again.
“Come on,” I growled. The two infected were up and walking towards me. I looked in each direction. Where could I go?
Both zombies drew closer, as I struggled to decide which direction to run. Although the infected moved like slugs, they were persistent bastards. No one had more endurance than a zombie did.
The sun was high overhead and the heat wore me down like a grindstone. Not that heat or fatigue slowed the infected, of course. Nothing short of having their skulls bashed in bothered them. Unlike them, I needed rest. Food, water and motherfucking rest.
I had thought I could lose the crowd, by slipping away from their attack on my group. It hadn’t worked. The mass of infected marched along the road, steadily closing the distance between us. I still had a great lead on them, but I couldn't relax too long.
How many had stayed behind to feed on my friends? Not enough. Apparently, three bodies weren’t enough to satisfy the mass of infected that Alex’s screaming had attracted. Greedy bastards.
I guess only so many infected could hunch over each body. The rest passed by for me – the fresh meat. Zombies were merciless like a pack of hunting dogs chasing a fox. There was no doubt that I was faster, but they didn’t tire.
So unfair.
I smirked at the thought. My mom loved to say, “Life isn’t fair.” Turned out she was right.
I glanced back, beyond the approaching horde, and could still see dark smoke from my apartment building marring the sky. My clothes reeked of smoke and sweat; blood too. Racing through buildings, battling smoke, flames and infected was something I never wanted to do again. Exiting the blaze into the fresh air had been damn near orgasmic. Then, one by one, the mob of zombies had killed my friends. They died, only to rise and join the ranks of the undead.
We’d lost two people just escaping the building. Four more were bitten shortly after reaching the street. A couple of others were injured or just too damn slow. One dude, Jake, was accidentally hit in the head when Logan went on the rampage with a pipe he'd found. The accident had shocked all of us, and Logan had frozen up, falling under a swarm of infected, himself.
My mind still reeled from it. I couldn’t believe I was the only survivor. How long would I last?
We should have been able to ditch the crowd of infected. Running away should have reduced the number of zombies bearing down on us. It was all backwards, as more and more of them joined in the chase. They had emerged from every building, behind every bush, around every corner. A handful had grown into a massive horde of dozens, and then hundreds. Was there no end to them?
The sound of the two infected plodding towards me grew louder, snapping me out of the jumble of thoughts that were rattling around in my head. The woman began to groan, a low throaty sound that made me cringe.
I lacked a weapon to fight with and there was no point risking a hand-to-hand battle, so, once again, I turned and ran.
My energy was waning though. My pace was little more than a quick jog. I had to find somewhere to hide, or risk becoming another chump dying in the street from sheer exhaustion.
The devil on my shoulder told me to rest a moment longer. I shook my head in disgust. I wouldn’t quit. I owe
d it to my friends to survive. Their unwilling sacrifices were the reason I still existed.
Zombies. I almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Of all things, who would have guessed that zombies would be humanity’s downfall? Not environmental destruction, not war, and certainly not illegal immigration. None of the things we had typically believed were threats mattered one damn bit. Fuckin’ zombies.
Anger boiled inside me. I didn't know all the details of how the apocalypse had started, but news reports following the first outbreaks showed that it was self-inflicted. Some corrupt fucker in Washington had funneled money to a shady government contractor. So typical. I hope those “campaign contributions” were worth it, asshole!
Every once in a while, I veered off course to test the doors of a promising looking building, but nothing panned out. The ones I didn’t check were busted out, boarded up, or barricaded.
Who had time to board up their windows?
I could have broken a window or kicked a door in, but it was risky. I could be shot or attacked if anyone was still alive. If not, the noise would inevitably draw the attention of zombies.
There was no breath of hope. No one around to help me. No place to hide.
Stopping to catch my breath again, I sat on a bench at a bus stop. Sitting was a nice change of pace. Nothing good seemed to last because it wasn’t long until movement caught my eye. A shirtless infected man with a bulging gut was halfway across the street and heading straight for me. He was missing his left arm and the flesh was torn away from his side and chest. A section of white rib bones gleamed in the sun.
There were always zombies lurking nearby. So I did the only thing I could do. I got up from the bench and ran.
I wondered though, how much farther could I run?
83
I rounded the next corner, leaving the fat guy behind, and nearly shit my pants at the sight before me. My chest ached and my heart redlined. Zombies were just a dozen feet ahead of me.
Stopping abruptly was impossible at my speed. I dodged a parking meter but my momentum carried me a few more steps, right into a parked car. I gasped from the burst of pain in my knee. I bit back a yelp.
Despite the injury, I was grateful. At least I hadn’t slammed into the multitude of zombies milling aimless in the road. Their heads turned towards me, and dark, dead eyes glared. I could sense their hunger and it made my stomach churn in revulsion. They began to groan, gnash their teeth, and then they lurched towards me.
I pushed off the car, spun around, and raced back to the intersection. My knee ached but there was no way I could slow my pace. Looking to my right, I saw a big dude was making a beeline towards me. He wasn’t a problem by himself. I just didn't have time to kill him, when the two groups of zombies were about to converge. That put him in a virtual Bermuda Triangle; if I went in, I might never come out.
Growling in frustration at the futility of the situation, I continued running. I turned left which took me north on the road. It was my one path away from both groups of infected.
The wind changed direction, pushing me along as I ran. The air reeked of the horde, a dense mix of sewage and death. I had to fight the urge to vomit. Nothing smells worse than a group of zombies. My throat constricted forcing me to slow down as I gagged violently. The strain of it made my eyes water. Even if I wanted to hurl, nothing would come up. I hadn’t eaten in two days.
Halfway along the next block, I glanced back at the chorus of groans to see how far behind they were. The wind caught me full in the face and I retched again. The two groups of infected had merged into one massive crowd that filled the street from building to building and they were continuing their pursuit as fast as their dead legs could carry them.
How long could I keep going? Exhaustion was inevitable. Or, at some point, my legs would cramp and then - game over.
If I was the fox in this hunting scenario, I needed a place to hide. A den of my own where I could curl up and feel safe. I looked around desperately for shelter.
Oddly, I wasn’t familiar with this part of town. Or at least it didn’t look familiar. There were bodies or pieces of bodies rotting in the road. Cars were parked or abandoned in random places. One car had smashed into a lamppost, which had fallen on it. The car’s roof was dented in like a V and the driver’s body was trapped in the car. An arm dangled out of the open door.
A few burnt-out cars sat next to a collapsed building that was still smoldering. A semi-truck had somehow crashed into the building and its burnt remains stuck out into the road. The rear of the metal trailer was still intact. It tilted towards the ground because the middle section had burned out. I could barely make out a half-charred warning sign, a faded yellow diamond that said “oxidizer.”
My eyebrows rose at that. Looking around at the destruction it obviously caused, I’d say the warning sign was a bit of an understatement.
Chunks of brick and concrete had spilled into the road along with other debris. I saw something that looked like a wooden mop handle. It was broken in half, maybe three feet long and the broken end formed a long sharp point. A perfect weapon.
I snatched it up, greedy for anything to defend myself with. Considering the way things were going for me, I'd have to fight sooner or later.
“Should’ve bought a gun,” I grumbled. Still, the sturdy handle with its sharp point reassured me, if only a little. It was no Colt 1911 pistol, with head splitting .45 caliber rounds, but it was something.
I put my hands on my knees and gulped for air.
“Shit!”
A zombie with no legs crawled through the rubble. I stabbed it in the face with my new weapon. My aim was bad and part of the point snapped when it struck the zombie’s forehead. All I managed to do was leave a nasty gash on its scalp where the ragged point had slid along the skull, carving a trough in its flesh. The gash oozed black fluid.
Glancing back again, for good measure, I saw that the closest zombies were only twenty feet or so away. With a string of muttered curses, I started running again.
Silence permeated the city. An unsettling side effect of the apocalypse. It accentuated the disturbing moans of the infected, my heavy breathing, and the sound of my footsteps.
Seriously; had no one else made it? Where were the police? The Army? The Marines?
I turned at the next intersection and continued searching for a place to hide. I tried my best to not huff too loudly. Back when I was still lounging in my apartment with friends, watching the news, we’d learned that silence meant survival. As long as I stayed quiet and out of sight, the infected wouldn’t even know I was there. Their blind hunger would send them past on their endless journey for live meat.
In the distance, I saw a building I recognized. It had posh condos, perfect for waiting out the zombie apocalypse. The question was, could I reach Brickell Key? It would be the ideal location because the key was an island. The single bridge that linked it to the mainland would make it easy to block with abandoned cars or other junk. Plus, the island was small enough that, over time, I could clear out any infected lurking in the buildings or on the street. It’d be my own safe zone to survive, until the military got this shit under control.
A quick glance at the sky and I knew that I’d never get there before dark. I needed a safe place to bunk, in the meantime. Wandering the darkened streets of Miami without electricity was a shortcut to an early death.
A building complex up ahead caught my eye because it was still under construction. It looked mostly complete, but there was still a perimeter fence. These days that was more important than an over-sized kitchen or a luxury bathroom.
Swerving around a bloated body, I went for an opening in the fence. My body managed to slide through without a sound and I ran to the closest building to check the doors.
The cynic inside me guessed they would be closed and locked if not barricaded against the masses of infected. For some reason, luck was on my side for once.
“Yeah, that’s right!” I whispered excitedly as the door s
wung open for me. It was made of thick glass and felt sturdy. Perfect!
Now that I was inside for the evening, it was time secure the door and barricade it. I looked around for anything to use. On this side of the building there were four doors, two on each side of a revolving door. This type of building had many doors. My eyes darted around frantically. When no immediate solution presented itself, my rush of joy began to dissipate. My chances of blocking the doors were nil. Panic swirled in my chest.
I took a few deep breaths. “Relax. You’re safe now. You can do this.”
Maybe blocking the doors didn’t matter? The fence ought to keep out most of the infected. I’d only be there one night. In the morning I’d make for Brickell Key.
I turned away from the door praying that none of the infected had spotted me. It was dark inside and quieter than a winter morning in Fox, Alaska. Right now, I’d give anything to be back home. If the town had infected, how many could there be? A few hundred at the worst and there were enough guns there to supply an army. Homes were spread out there, so gunshots wouldn’t bring a rush of zombies, like it would here.
Too bad I was so damned far away from Alaska.
No point thinking about something I can’t change, I reminded myself. I had to find the stairs. Staying on the first floor was a bad idea. With so many doors there was no security at all. Anyone – living or undead – could wander in and end me in my sleep.
I missed electricity so much. The building was dark as fuck. A faint glow from the setting sun filtered in through the clouds.
A few minutes of exploring the area revealed a hallway that led to the elevators. Those would be less than useless without power and based on the rank odor permeating the area, they must have bodies trapped inside. My nose crinkled in disgust.
Treading carefully across the floor, I found the stairwell. I stepped halfway inside and strained to hear anything. Nothing.
The air was stale and dusty. I could make out the painted concrete and a handrail. There were scuffs and small piles of dirt in the corners and the door hadn’t been installed yet. A slight breeze came in from the first floor. It made my damp shirt feel cold. My body shivered so I picked up my pace.