Rise

by Wood, Gareth

  Within ten minutes we had decided to drive forward until we had their attention, then back away as they advanced. We’d shoot them as they came toward us, lining up snipers for good headshots. We’d have to clear the road of the bodies, but it was a good plan. Eric and Darren would do the shooting. Kim and I would watch their backs. Some of the others from the prison would watch around as well, since the more eyes we had looking out the better.

  Kim and I got into the Civic while the other two set up a sniping spot across the hood of the Pathfinder. We drove forward, and when we got close enough that they started noticing us I honked the horn a few times. That got the attention of all the dead bastards, and they started enthusiastically following us as we backed down the road. I turned and drove slowly to the position Eric and Darren had set up, and pulled off to the side to be away from the field of fire. We got out just as Eric fired the first shot. We grabbed our guns and stood sentry while they fired. The cordite smell that has become so familiar to me drifted to us, and I watched behind and to the sides. I didn’t pay much attention to the road ahead, that was their problem. When the shooting finally stopped I turned and saw twenty corpses in various poses, lying on the pavement. One was still wriggling a bit, but that ended fast. Eric put another bullet into its head, and it was still. They were good shooters. The closest corpse was twenty yards away.

  We spent the next thirty minutes dragging the bodies from the road. We piled them up in a ditch. There was talk of burning them, but I was worried about fuel. We’d need it, so I didn’t want it wasted on these former undead. We threw the gloves we’d used on top of the pile after we hauled the last one down. They were filthy and gore-encrusted, and we all washed our hands and faces with soapy water.

  Continuing on, we found there was no way to get through to the north. The bus had created such a mess that the only clear path was to the east. We took a moment to check the inside of the bus, but found nothing useful. The gas tank had long ago drained out onto the ground, and what food we found was long spoiled.

  So we turned east on the #589, and drove another dozen kilometers until we were just south of Gough Lake. The land was empty here, so we stopped and had lunch. Spirits were high, as the day was warming up. Birds could be seen on the lake north of us, and Eric spotted some deer through the binoculars. They seemed unconcerned that human civilization had collapsed into roving bands of survivors fleeing from cannibalistic corpses. They actually seemed pretty happy, completely at ease by the lake.

  We drove on, eventually passing two small towns and turning north on the #855, best described now as a rude track overgrown with weeds, ice and rubble. Progress was slow, since we had to dodge far more cars here than I had thought we would. We could see another lake to the east, and the map said it was Sullivan Lake. We slowly wove our way north until we reached the town of Halkirk. It was on the road to Stettler, west of us, and we had been though here in the fall. It was a little more desolate now. Snow, ice, and the walking dead. We turned east again, on the road to Consort, which was about 100 km away. The snow on the road here was undisturbed except for the tracks of animals, and we made good time. By late afternoon we were just outside Throne, and had to slow down to steer around a wreck. I drove past in the Civic with the bus on our tail, and just as I passed a Suburban turned on its side, a zombie staggered out and made a grab for the car. It missed, but lurched right into the path of the bus. There was a sickening wet crunch we heard even in the Civic, and the zombie ceased to be a problem as it went under the front tire of the bus. We continued on, but after a minute the bus pulled over. This was right in the middle of the town of Throne, so something serious must be up. Concerned, we stopped and Darren took the wheel as I got out. I heard the hissing as I walked to the bus. The tire was going flat. Damn. A bone fragment must have punctured the tire as the zombie was crushed. Sam jumped out, looked at the tire, and swore like a sailor. There was no spare.

  I heard a groaning sound, and looked around. We had stopped near a gas station with a shattered front window, and a pair of hungry looking undead were trying to climb through the missing pane to get to us. Across the street was a neighborhood, and I could see several walking dead coming down the streets towards us. Not too many, thank God, but enough to be a problem. I grabbed my shotgun, and walked towards the two making their way through the window of the gas station. I called to Eric to get the bus moving, whatever it took!

  Darren backed the Civic up to near where I was standing, and I raised the shotgun up to my shoulder. I heard the bus start moving again. It wouldn’t get far, but it could get away from here. We’d have to find another tire or a new vehicle. The two undead approaching me were really badly decomposed. I saw bone, rotten black tissue, and torn clothing. Gender was simply beyond me, but one had longer hair, so it was either a female or a hippy. I didn’t care. I shot the closest one in the face, and it went down, missing most of its skull now. The other, the long haired one, was a little quicker than its companion, and stepped over a fallen gas hose. It came, arms outstretched, and I pulled the trigger again, a little low this time. The blast severed the head completely, and body and head rolled in different directions.

  I retreated to the Civic, and Darren drove us out after the bus, which was slowly making its way through the town. It was a struggle to drive, apparently, since Sam drove it into the corner of a truck, took out a stop sign, and clipped a car as well. It was evident that the bus was fucked. I called Eric on the radio, and told him to look for a defendable structure. We were going to have to abandon the bus. He said there was a school ahead. We drove that way, and it looked pretty good. The doors to the school were open, and I imagined there would be undead inside. Still, better we get in there than be out here in the open with a town full of walking dead to deal with. The bus pulled up and people started getting out. I yelled to Eric and Kim to check the school out, and they headed inside. I told Sam to have everyone grab either a bag of food, a bag of water, or some other supplies. One bag only, and everyone takes something. Then inside, and into the first secure room they see. He nodded and started giving directions, and Darren and I stepped out towards the street to see what was going on. Fifteen or so undead were coming. I checked the shotgun, making sure it was fully loaded, and shot at the closest one I saw. Darren, taking careful aim, dropped the next closest two with very clean headshots. He’s a good shot, and I sometimes forget he’s only 16 still. I shot another one in the head, and turned to check on the others. They were gathering things still. Too slow! I shouted at them to hurry, and heard shooting from inside the school. Three shots, then one more. I turned around again, and ten feet from me was a huge, incredibly tall corpse, lurching along with great speed. He must have been 6’6”, and was probably a body builder in life. I got the shotgun up, and fired, hitting him in the chest. He went down, but then got up again. His ruined torso wasn’t bleeding, just a black ooze that looked like tar. I pumped another round in, and fired again, higher. This time the pellets tore a large chunk from his face, ruined an eye, and tore his left ear cleanly off. Nothing in his brain, though. Damnit! He charged, and I ducked low on his blind side, and lifted as he ran into me. He went over my back and hit the ground face first, and I pumped my last round into the shotgun and fired at the back of his head. His skull burst, splashing grey matter across the street, and I realised I was out. Too many more were too close, so I slung the shotgun rather than fumble for more ammo, and drew the Browning. I checked Darren, and there were a few dead at his feet. The other people were inside now, so I ran to Darren and grabbed his arm and started towards the school. Somehow an undead had managed to get between us and the school, and I was raising my arm to shoot it when Kim came outside, holding her broadsword. She stepped up, holding the sword like she knew exactly what she was doing, and swung at the zombie. It was facing us, so it didn’t see her. She took a good horizontal swing, and cut the top half of its head cleanly off. It flopped down, and that was that.

  We ran past her, and she followed
us inside. We barricaded the doors with chairs, filing cabinets and boxes, and retreated to the inner hallway as the undead arrived at the doors. I first reloaded the shotgun, then checked on everyone. There had been a few undead inside, but Eric and Kim had taken them out. We had some supplies, but not all. We were low on ammo, but if we could get to the cars we could get more. Water was a problem. So was the tire on the bus. Food we seemed to have plenty of.

  So for the last three days we have been here, in the fortified school. A total of forty-one undead have come here, hoping for a meal. Tomorrow morning we are going to get out of here one way or another. We only waited this long to see how many there would be. No new ones have shown up since yesterday, so we feel confident that this is it. The people are scared, wondering if we have traded one prison for another, so tomorrow cannot come soon enough.

  December 13

  Three dead. That’s our count from our escape attempt. There is good news, but I’ll get to that.

  We started the morning of the 12th with our tried-and-true diversion tactics of making a whole lot of noise at one end of the building and drawing the undead over there so we could get to the vehicles unimpaired. In the school music room we found drums, cymbals, and a few French horns. This was more than sufficient for an impromptu jam session, and we hauled the gear to the far end classroom. It was the end away from the town, and was formerly a science lab, by the look of it. A table of elements was posted on one wall, and various jars of preserved animal parts were on shelves. Broken beakers littered the floor, and an ominous blackened bloodstain was splashed along the wall closest the door.

  We set up the instruments and went back to the other room, where everyone was gathered, and went over the plan another time. It never fails; someone will second guess the plan at some point and try to screw things up. They’ll mean well, but it’ll happen anyways. In this case it was Bernard, one of the former cons. A break-and-enter man from Montréal, he’d been doing five years, and was into his fourth when the dead rose. He was full of great ideas, and in fact he happily shared them with anyone who’d let him talk for a minute or more. The problem was, his great ideas had landed him in jail. Applying them to a survival situation when the threat of zombie attack was just outside the fucking door was impractical.

  So the plan was we’d make as much noise as possible at the far end, draw all the undead out there to that end, and then open the main doors to get outside. We had found car keys in the teachers’ lounge for a Toyota Corolla and a Dodge Grand Caravan. They were still in the parking lot, and I had hopes they would start. The bus was still sitting on a flat, and we had no way to change it with the undead all outside ready to feed. We didn’t even have a spare tire, so it was a lost cause anyways. We’d probably have to abandon the food and supplies in the bus. That meant we had to find transport for all of us. Five sedans or four minivans should do it. We planned to head outside, Sam, Richard (a mechanic who’d lived in Drumheller) and myself going for the cars, and Kim, Darren and Eric covering us and destroying as many undead as they could until we got to the cars. If the Corolla and Caravan started, we had some vehicles right away. We’d move them near the doors and get back inside. Such was the plan.

  We had twenty-two here, and the available seating in all the vehicles (assuming the two out in the lot even turn over) was twenty-two. So, no room for error. We would get everyone back inside, gather supplies, make noise, and flee for the cars. If the cars turned over we’d leave them open and running.

  We made for the door while a few volunteers made a hell of a racket back in the science room. Everyone else moved back three rooms and set up barricades, except for two people who stayed to man the doors. One of them had my shotgun, the other had Sam’s. I had my Browning, full and clean and an extra clip ready. Sam had Eric’s pistol, and the others had their various rifles and pistols. Richard had a pistol too, but he claimed no real knowledge of firearms. I told him to stick by me, and if we had to shoot anything, to follow my lead. A few minutes crawled by, and finally they called to us. Darren was waiting near a window, and looked outside quickly, then called back that it was clear. I had the keys in one hand, and my gun in the other, and they opened the front doors.

  We were out and had a few seconds to look around. The crowd of walking corpses was towards the back of the school battering the windows, trying to shatter the glass to get inside where the noise was. We had reinforced the windows with furniture and sheets of wood, so everyone inside should be safe. There were no undead in front of the school—it looked like all of them had gone to investigate the sounds. So we ran. I went for the Corolla. Richard stayed at my side, and we ran. The car was covered in grime and dust, a little unmelted ice, and some leaves from the fall. We stopped at the car, and Richard kept watch behind us while I tried the key in the lock. It went in, but I couldn’t get it to turn. Must have been frozen, or grit had gotten inside and fouled the mechanism. I pulled it out and ran to the other side of the car, trying the other door. Again it went in, and again it wouldn’t turn. Too long outside, I guessed, unprotected from rain and snow and sun. I could still hear the drumming and French horns over the slight wind that was blowing.

  I took the key out and checked on the others. Sam was inside the Caravan, trying the ignition. I heard it cough. Turning back to the Corolla I gave the lock a smack with my hand, twice. That had always worked on my Explorer when it froze up in an ice storm, back before. And sure enough, it worked here too. The key went in and turned. The doors unlocked, and we got in. I ended up on the passenger side, and I handed Richard the keys. He fit the key into the ignition, and I heard two things. First was the sound of the Caravan roaring to life, and the second was the shattering sound of breaking glass. The drums and horns stopped, and I saw Eric run back inside. The zombies were coming back our way. Darren and Kim stepped back out around the corner, and opened fire. There was no way they could get them all, they were too close to the swarm to deal with every one of them before they were swamped. The Caravan was driving back towards the front doors, and Eric reappeared pushing people ahead of him. He must have realised we had to go now, and I agreed. Richard was still trying the ignition and I asked him the situation. He said he had it and it would start in a minute. I asked him if he was sure and he impatiently waved at the front doors and told me to go help the others.

  The motor coughed twice then, but still didn’t start. I got out and ran to help. Undead were advancing around the corner, and Darren and Kim were being forced back to keep out of their reach. I ran forward aiming the Browning, and fired at one that had stepped around the corner towards the nearest living people. My shot missed, and I fired again, this one hitting it in the neck. It fell, but started up again. More of them were coming now, and the people were getting into the vehicles as fast as they could.

  Darren was still firing, but Kim clicked empty. She threw me her rifle and drew her sword, cutting rotten limbs off, severing undead heads and yelling banshee-like the whole time. Darren stopped firing and ran towards me. I was busy shooting at an advancing teenaged girl who was missing both hands at the wrists. I dropped her, and three more took her place, and I was running low on ammo. Eric suddenly showed up at the front doors, and yelled at me that everyone was out and we had to go.

  We ran. The Caravan was pulling out already, and the Civic too. Kim ran to the Pathfinder, and Sam was waiting there in the driver’s seat. I looked for the Corolla, and saw Richard and two others, a farmer named Greg and Gladys, a nurse from the prison, fighting hand-to-hand with five or so undead. All three had been bitten. Fuck!

  The horde was advancing on us. Eric dove into the back of the Pathfinder, Kim followed, and Darren ran up and turned at the door. He shot once at the leader of the advancing swarm, and climbed in. They had cut us off. There was no way to get to Richard and the others. Already they were screaming, and more and more of the twenty or so zombies left were turning to them. The leader of the pack was about ten feet from me when I shot him between the eyes, and I c
limbed into the passenger seat. All four of them in the Pathfinder had been yelling at me to hurry, and we drove away with the final screams of the three echoing in our ears.

  The only good news from this is that we got away and kept away. We always knew we could lose people. We knew the risk, everyone did. It is my regret that I didn’t make sure they were dead and not returning. I have failed them. At this very moment they could be up again, walking about, seeking warm flesh to feast on. God help me, I hope not.

  December 15

  We ran east until we hit the highway north, the #41 North at the town of Consort, leading us straight to Wainright. CFB Wainright, about 100 km away from Consort, should have been a safe haven. Last we had heard there was a detachment of 350 Army troops there, holding the roads open and rescuing periodic survivors. As of December 13th, that was what we believed to be true. The reality was something else.

  Right now we have fled the ruins of the base. It wasn’t destroyed by the undead, that much we could tell. It looks like it was looted and ransacked by the troops who were based here before they took off. We found the corpses of several officers and about two dozen soldiers in one of the barracks, and it looked like a firefight had erupted in the yard outside. The vehicles were all gone, fuel tanks were empty, and the gates were open. We looked around, stayed the night, and left this morning. We found no undead inside the base, and we closed the gates when we left. We searched around for a radio more powerful than what we had, but didn’t find one. Eric though that the mutineers (he was sure that the battle here had been a mutiny) had taken or destroyed all the radios. Where they have gone is anyone’s guess.