by DeWitt, Dan
The man looked at Ethan like he would kill him if he got the chance. The woman said three simple words between sobs: "I hate you."
"Fine by me. Feel free to take a shot at me in the sewers once we get there. In the meantime, take it out on them. Somebody get them some weapons."
Rachel sidled up next to him and touched his hand. Mad as she was, she was still supporting him. Ethan hoped that she knew he was only doing what he had to do.
Harold came down the hallway, putting the cap back on a black Sharpie. "Done. Can't miss it." He found Jason and gave him a short kiss on the lips. If anyone had a problem with it, they had the good sense to say nothing. Now that the cat was out of the bag, Ethan had no doubt that Harold would start swinging if they had.
"Okay. I'm first out the door. Don't turn your backs on them at all. And, for God's sake, everyone stay together. Slow and steady is better than fast and dead. Everyone ready?"
There were murmurs of assent. A few were enthusiastic; the rest were terrified.
"Harold, you remember what to do once we get down there?"
"Copy that."
"That's the spirit. And you," he said to Rachel, "you stay in my pocket."
Incredibly, she smiled and winked, at the same time taking a two-handed grip on the pipe.
"Sister Ann! Go!"
The sound of the back doors being thrown open echoed in the suddenly silent church. He heard the car start up, doors slam, and screeching tires as it pulled out. A few seconds later, the sedan barreled out into the street and laid waste to a score of zombies. Ethan had been bouncing on the balls of his feet, getting himself ready.
It was time.
He threw the doors open and started fighting, the rest of the group on his heels.
Behind them, on the bathroom door, six-inch block letters proclaimed: "ZOMBIE IN HERE DO NOT OPEN UNTIL X-MAS."
* * *
In hindsight, Ethan was kind of surprised by how easy it was. Not "easy" in the sense of lack of exertion; when they all stood, covered in blood but whole, in the sewers, the monumental effort they had to undergo to get there was evident. But the plan itself? It worked perfectly.
Sister Ann initially cleared the way enough for the survivors. She knew that this was her car's swan song, and she was intent on getting her money's worth and making some memories. When the survivors broke through the doors with Ethan in the lead, she continued to milk every fume out of her gas tank.
As expected, the zombies came at them from every direction. It was the kind of sight that could root a person to the spot in fear.
The group stayed together admirably, whether out of a sense of self-preservation, solidarity, or plain terror, no one would ever bother to say. They kept their backs to each other in a tight circle, moving with halting, choppy steps, but never leaving more than a foot or two of unguarded space between them.
As they approached the manhole, Sister Ann parked on one side of it, partially cutting off one angle of attack. Her escorts jumped out of the driver's side doors and joined the fight, as did Sister Ann. Their assistance was welcome, as zombies were appearing on either side of the street, from parking lots, and seemingly from nowhere. The survivors formed a ring around the manhole cover, to better protect themselves and their "key."
"Diesel! Go!"
The man that Ethan referred to as Diesel dropped to one knee and started to force the crowbar into the small gap between the lid and the street. He pried it up, but as he moved to slip his fingers under it, the lid dropped down.
"How we doin'?!?" Ethan bellowed, as he collapsed a sneering zombie's skull. He heard screams and shouts all around him, and he couldn't discern if they were from pain or rage. He didn't dare turn away to try and figure it out.
Diesel tried again. This time, he managed to slip his fingers underneath and heave. The manhole cover flipped over onto its side with a loud clanging noise.
Now came the part of the plan that Ethan really worried about. They had to get down the hole, and they had to get down fast. As their numbers dwindled, the people who remained above ground were put at greater and greater risk. "Not yet! Keep fighting!" He knew they had to wait for a lull, or, rather, for as much of a lull as they could expect to get.
When the moment came that survivors outnumbered the approaching zombies, he yelled at Diesel to go first, just in case zombies somehow got into the sewers. He dropped down; a few seconds later Ethan heard, "Clear!"
Ethan knew the respite couldn't last long, and he yelled for people to start dropping down the hole as quickly as they could. As their numbers dwindled, the ring shrank and shrank until it was down to just Ethan, Rachel, and surprisingly, the male former holdout. He'd found a suitable outlet for his anger at Ethan. He turned to look at the man who had threatened him a few short minutes ago; he motioned wildly for him to go. He didn't hesitate to join his sister. Rachel followed suit. Ethan was the last one on the ladder. He dropped down a few rungs until he was visible from the waist up only. He grabbed the manhole cover and started to tug. The lack of leverage and the throbbing in his hands made the task much more difficult than it should have been.
Then Ethan saw the next, biggest wave of zombies yet, and all of that was forgotten. He dug in and yanked hard; the manhole cover came sliding back to him, and the effort made him slam his back against the opposite side of the hole. He dropped down two more rungs so he could put his shoulder into the cover and close it completely. He yelled to the group below him, "Move! I'm coming down!" As he was about to seal the manhole, some zombies ran on top of the cover. Ethan just got his fingers clear before their combined weight slammed it down. The sudden change knocked Ethan off balance and he lost his grip on the ladder.
He fell for what seemed like ten seconds, but in reality was less than one. He hit the ground flat on his back and was knocked unconscious for several minutes.
When he came to, the male holdout was hauling him to his feet much more gently than Ethan would have anticipated. Ethan swayed, and Rachel steadied him.
The holdout said, "I'd like to fuckin' slug you."
Ethan slurred, "Just give me a minute..."
The man surprised him by laughing. "Nah. You saved our asses. I'd avoid my sister for a while, though."
"Deal."
Then Ethan passed out again.
They were halfway to the school when he regained consciousness for good
The screams woke him.
* * *
Ethan woke up upside down and disoriented by yelling and erratic beams of light. It only took him a few seconds to realize that he was being carried over someone's (probably Diesel's) shoulder. He wriggled free and got his feet under him. The first thing that he saw was that the beams of light came from the headlamps of two island tunnel workers who had apparently tried to take refuge in a place that was familiar to them. It hadn't worked, as the two were now undead; one of them was feeding on someone who Ethan couldn't yet identify, whereas the other was wrestling with one of the women who'd been carrying the food. Everyone, understandably, was frozen in shock.
She screamed, "Get it off me! Get it off meeeeeeeeee!" Her screams broke the group inertia, and people began to move fast. The brother (Ethan still didn't know his name) was closest to the first zombie. He swung his broomhandle at the thing's head repeatedly. The first blow sent the helmet flying. He was far too late to save the zombie's first victim, but his quick action kept the zombie, who'd been rising to find another, fresher kill, from finding it.
At the same time Ethan, who had no weapon as he'd been unconscious, grabbed the second thing around the neck. The danger of being that close to the creature's jaws didn't register; he only wanted to get it as far away from the group as he could, then he could finish it. He heaved and they fell backwards onto the dirty tunnel floor. Ethan tightened his grip around its neck and wrapped his legs around its hips, purely in a defensive mode. It thrashed on top of him, but they were at a stalemate. It was all he could do to avoid its gnashing teeth. A barehanded Rac
hel moved to help him but he told her to keep back.
The brother came to the rescue and made a makeshift bit out of the broomhandle by jamming it into the thing's maw. Ethan grabbed it on either end and used his strength and leverage to wedge it as deep as possible. He heard teeth crack and flesh rip as he pulled it back as far as he could until it was wedged between molars and could go back no further. He took the opportunity to roll the zombie, who was significantly smaller than he was, onto its stomach and pinned it beneath him. He reestablished his grip on the broomhandle and twisted as hard as he could until he felt its neck snap. The thrashing stopped from the shoulders down. Still, the thing tried to chew through the wood. Ethan grabbed a handful of hair in one hand, its collar in the other, and slammed its forehead into the concrete until its misshapen head showed no more signs of movement. Ethan pushed to his knees and let out deep breath, then allowed Rachel to help him to his feet.
"They c-came out of a side tunnel," Sister Ann said. "We never even knew they were here."
"Not your fault." The helmet from the worker that he'd killed had skidded over to the side of the tunnel. The beam of light from the headlamp pointed up at nothing in particular. Ethan picked it up and held it at his side, as the reflected light was enough. "Who did we lose?"
"His name was Stanley. I didn't know much about him. He was new to the area."
"Let's, uh, cover him up and get moving. Do you want to say something?"
"Kid!" It was Diesel. "We got another problem!"
Diesel was pointing his cell phone at the woman that Ethan had just saved. He saw her bleeding forearm and realized that he hadn't saved her at all. He heard a few gasps, and his heart dropped.
The woman sensed what was on everyone's mind. "I'm okay! I feel fine!"
He approached her slowly. He held his hand out to Diesel, who returned his Fubar to him. He gestured for the cell phone, as well. Diesel didn't understand why Ethan wanted it, as he already had a much more powerful light, but he handed it over. Ethan clicked off the head lamp and held it by his side. "I know you are. Tammy, right?"
She nodded quickly.
He spoke in a friendly tone. "Tammy, I know you're fine. You haven't changed yet, so I don't think you will. I just want to get you away from everyone until we can be sure, okay?"
"But I'm okay," she repeated.
"You want everyone else to be safe, too, right?" To reinforce his point, he gripped her shoulder and kept her back to the wall.
"Mmm-hmm."
"Then I just need a look. Everyone else is just going to take a few steps back now." Denise held her arms up and herded everyone backward.
"All right. I think I hit my head. It really hurts."
Ethan cleared his throat. The words weren't coming easily to him. "I'll look at that, too, Tammy. Just a little further..."
"Do you see any blood? God, my head really hurts!"
Ethan was satisfied that the rest of the group was far enough away.
Tammy covered her mouth and began to cough. "Got something *cough* stuck in my *cough* throat...?"
"We'll get you some cough drops when we get to the school."
She looked like she was trying to speak, but her mouth moved spasmodically and she began to shiver. All the communication she need was in her eyes: she was terrified.
"It's no big deal, Tammy. You'll be okay. Let's just sit you down for a second." He gently helped her to her knees and hunched down in front of her, a gentle, comforting hand on her shoulder. He looked back at the silhouettes of the other survivors, then he slid the cell phone into his pocket and switched off the headlamp. Mickey followed suit and killed his light, casting the tunnel into unbroken darkness.
The survivors couldn't see anything, but, deprived completely of sight, their hearing had adjusted quickly. To a man they could hear a soft but high-pitched keening sound, then something that might have been a snarl. Those sounds were cut off by the sound of something hard hitting something less hard. There was another. Then several more.
A silence as absolute as the darkness descended. Rachel was the first to speak, "Ethan? You okay?"
She got no answer except a soft rustling sound.
"Ethan?"
"Kid? Say something." Diesel added.
They heard another rustling, softer this time, like a fresh sheet being laid on a bed. The headlamp came to life unexpectedly, and everyone involuntarily jumped. "Pair off and hold hands. Stay behind me. Someone grab their radios." Ethan sounded defeated, but still determined to get to the school. "Let's get the fuck out of here." He walked at a moderate pace, swinging the light in every possible direction to ensure that there would be no more surprises.
Rachel repeated her boyfriend's name and started to move to him, but was stopped by a strong hand on her forearm. It was Diesel's. "Let go; he needs me."
Diesel released his grip and spoke in something just above a whisper. "Yeah, he does, but not right now. He needs to work some shit out in his head first."
"And how do you know what he needs?"
Diesel moved closer and lowered his voice. "Listen, doll. He just killed a girl. Not a zombie...a girl...out of mercy, and out of concern for you. Maybe a little for us...but mostly for you. He's doing what he can to forget it, and you getting all 'Awwww, poor wittle baby' on him will bring it crashing down on his head. Then we're all screwed, cuz' I sure can't lead this shit."
"How do you know that?'
"Care to give me a play-by-play of what you had to do to make it to the church?"
Rachel glared at him, but softened as she couldn't fault his logic. She still hadn't spoken to Ethan about her fight for survival on the rooftops. "I see your point. So what can I do?"
"The same thing my wife did when I got back from my first tour, then my second and my third: the normal shit and nothing but. When I was ready, I started talking. And, boy, did I talk then." He paused. Rachel knew there was more there. "She healed me. And I had to bury her a few months later. Goddammit."
Rachel slid her hand into Diesel's and he gave her a comforting squeeze. They slipped to the front and matched Ethan's pace; the group kept pace with them. Harold and Jason took turns watching the tunnel behind them. "It's Mickey, by the way."
"Nice to meet you, Mickey."
They passed a shadow on their left.
Diesel knew what it was first and said, "Don't look, darlin'."
The warning came too late for Rachel. Out of all the sights that she had seen so far, she thought that the girl's misshapen head, though hidden under the shirt that Rachel herself had bought two Christmases ago, would stay with her the longest.
* * *
Diesel's assessment couldn't have been more accurate. Ethan used all his willpower to keep his tears at bay, but that allowed all of his doubts free reign in his head.
I don't know what I'm doing. People are following me and I have no clue what I'm doing.
He swung the light in a motion that had become automatic: left to right in a high arc, right to left in a low arc.
I just killed an innocent girl whose only mistake was to trust that I'd take care of her.
Back again, left to right low, right to left high.
I passed out and two people died. I passed out...who can pass out in these circumstances, anyway?
He looked behind him to check on the group. There was enough reflected light between the two headlamps to see that everyone was okay, if shaken. Everyone had actually paired off and was holding hands.
And there was Rachel, holding hands with that Diesel guy. They were engaged in conversation, and whatever the man had just said was funny enough to get Rachel to actually laugh. Ethan didn't feel the slightest twinge of jealousy. Instead, he was pissed that Diesel hadn't taken over. Why was he in charge?
Because you are, his internal voice told him. You can't change it, so quit whining and just get it done.
His internal voice sounded like his father, and it comforted him to a degree.
Dad, I wish you were her
e, but I just hope that you and Mom are safe. Please find her before you come looking for me. Please.
Back and forth, back and forth.
Okay, we just have to make it to the school. We'll be safe while we regroup, and then we can figure out what to do next. That's the goal. I need to have tunnel vision.
When he remembered where he was, he managed a chuckle.
Chapter 18: Earning It
"Wait, I think we passed it."
"Hmm?"
"I said I think we passed the school," Rachel repeated. "Shine that light over here."
Ethan had been so focused on looking for zombies that he hadn't really been paying attention to their location. He raised the beam to where she was and walked to her. She was right; according to the junction box which read "Sunoco" they'd overshot the school. "By like a quarter-mile," he said aloud.
A collective groan rose from the group. Harold teased, "It's like a five-minute walk, you big babies. Let's just get there." The group reversed course, Harold leading this time and Ethan watching the rear. Rachel lessened her pace noticeably, slowing down Diesel along with her.
They obviously wanted to speak with him, so Ethan quickened his until he was even with them. He took the pipe from Rachel's hand and put his own in it. He braced himself for questions about his current mental state. He wasn't sure of the answers himself, and he wasn't looking forward to it, but Rachel surprised him. "We might want to head straight for the gym. Those are really heavy doors. We can get settled a bit, then come up with a plan for food and everything."
"Good enough. Diesel?"
Rachel corrected him. "It's Mickey, sweetie."
"Okay, Mickey?"
"Works for me. You should consider splitting us up into teams for as long as we're there."
"Teams? How many?"
"We have, what, fifteen people? Three teams of four to six. One can scavenge, one can keep watch, the third can rest. Two up, one down at all times."