“Practice,” he said with a grin, holding the shotgun up.
Chloe made as though to protest, and then nodded and stepped out of the car. “This is either a great idea or a terrible one, Sam,” she said, but he noted the eagerness on her face.
“Don’t worry. I’ll cover you.”
Lex passed the shotgun that she had resting between her legs, to Chloe, who took it and adopted the stance that he had shown her earlier. She assumed a steady aim at the approaching zombie.
“Um, you might want to put a shell in,” he prompted, straight faced.
“What? Oh yeah,” she replied, taking the shell from him and quickly inserting it into the chamber. She resumed the stance, took a deep breath, and then pulled the trigger. The force of the blast blew the zombie of its feet and a hole in its chest. Chloe turned back to Sam with a grin.
“I hit it,” she stated.
“You did, well done… just next time aim a little higher.”
“What? Why?” she turned back to face the zombie that was struggling to get to its feet. “Oh. Yeah. Headshots. Give me another shell, and I’ll finish it off.”
Before Sam could get another shell out of his pocket, Lex jumped out of the car with the axe that Sam had taken from the shed earlier. She ran over to the thing struggling on the ground, and smashed its head with the blunt side of the weapon.
Sam and Chloe watched, dumbfounded as the young girl repeatedly battered the head of the zombie into a bloodied mess. A scream of rage accompanied the relentless pounding.
“Die, you fucker, die!”
“I think it’s dead,” Sam whispered to Chloe.
“No shit,” she whispered back, as they stared at the oozing mess of brains, blood and bone that now took the place of a head.
“Should we do something?”
Before Chloe could reply, and just as quickly as the violent onslaught had started, Lex stopped, wiped the axe on the grass, and calmly got back into the car.
“Right then. Good practice,” Sam said and got back into the car too, leaving Chloe staring open mouthed at the mess on the floor.
Strapped back into the driver’s seat of the Range Rover, Sam watched as Chloe got back into her car.
“What was that?” Sally asked, a note of concern in her voice.
“Shotgun practice. Chloe demonstrated for us why head shots are important.”
Sally snorted a laugh in response, and Sam grinned back at her, “You can put your hand back on my leg if you want,” he suggested slyly.
“Okay,” she happily agreed.
They saw more zombies on the drive through the village, but Sam decided not to suggest any more practice.
Eventually, they reached the A34. It was a mess. Crashed cars, fallen bodies and blood stains adorned the road. The driving was slow due to the constant need to dodge obstructions. On a clear stretch of the dual carriageway, Sam pulled up alongside Chloe.
“Do you want me to take the lead?” he asked, “This car might be better at clearing some of this crap out of the way.”
“Yes okay,” Chloe agreed. “I’ll indicate when we need to turn off.”
“Cool.” Sam pulled ahead of the Honda, and they drove on in silence.
“Um, Sam…” Sally started, turning her head from the window to look over at him. “Do you think it’s a bit strange that we haven’t seen any zombies in ages?”
“I hadn’t thought about it, but yeah, I suppose that is weird. I wonder where they’ve all gone.”
“It doesn’t matter,” a voice piped up from the back, “See them now. See them later. We’re all going to die today.”
“Dad,” Sally exclaims, “that’s a horrible thing to say.”
“It’s true. We will all die. Everything will have been for nothing.”
“Stop saying that,” Sally turned around to look at her father. He looked back at her with an air of defiance.
“Nothing matters, Sally. Nothing.”
“For fuck's sake,” Sally screams, startling Sam so much that the car swerves across the road.
“I’ve been patient with you. We’ve all be patient. Now you need to snap the fuck out of it and start acting like a man.”
George turned away from her and resumed staring out of the window.
“Answer me, goddamnit,” Sally shouted, her voice weaker now.
“Sal,” Sam said gently, “Leave him be.”
“I…” she turned back to face the front again. “Okay.”
“It is odd,” Sam said breaking the heavy silence, “there are a load of cars and loads of bodies. You would have thought we would have seen some of those things by now.”
“Mmm,” Sally replied absentmindedly, her anger at her father turning to worry.
“You okay?” Sam whispered.
“Yeah,” she nodded, her voice wavering.
They drove on in silence. Sam was actively looking for any signs of life. Nothing.
Lights flashed behind him, and he spotted the flickering light of the left indicator on the Honda. He took the next slip road and joined a single carriageway. The scene was similar to that of the A34. Plenty of debris and destruction. No movement, no zombies.
Sam thought as he drove. He considered stopping the car and saying something to Chloe, but then dismissed the thought immediately. He could imagine her reaction if he expressed concern at not seeing any zombies. Perhaps he should just be glad at their luck. God knew they deserved some.
After twenty or so minutes on the road, the Honda indicated left again, and he pulled off onto a narrow country road. This road was different. There were no cars or bodies, no blood or rubbish. You could be forgiven for thinking this was just a pleasant drive in the country, on an ordinary Sunday in early autumn.
They passed farmhouses and small cottages. No signs of looting. Doors and windows shut. Peaceful. Not even the odd body here or there. There was nothing. Yet Sam felt a growing sense of unease. Other than Lex going crazy with an axe, and George saying all that spooky shit, this journey had been just too easy
Sally’s hand was still on Sam’s leg, but she stared out of the side window, lost in thought, but not looking unduly worried. Sam kept his thoughts to himself and concentrated on driving.
The Honda indicator flashed again, and this time he took a right turn. After a few miles, Sam slammed on the brakes and came to a sudden stop. Instinctively his hand reached for the hazard lights, but it was too late as the Range Rover was jolted forward from the impact of the Honda hitting it.
Once the initial shock had faded, Chloe checked herself and Lex for injuries then jumped out of the car and stormed over to Sam’s window. It took her banging on the window to notice her presence, and when he finally did, he just pointed ahead. Chloe’s gaze followed the direction of his finger, and despite the glass separating them, he heard her gasp.
In front of them were hundreds, possibly thousands of bodies. Left. Right. Straight ahead. Bodies. Lots of bodies.
“I told you we were going to die,” George stated from the back seat.
Ignoring him, Sam wound down the window, “What the fuck?” he exhaled. Chloe just nodded, unable to find the words to respond. Ahead was a scene of death and destruction. Thousands of people had died here. They might have been zombies when they died, but just a few days ago they had been real people.
“Turn around?” he asked. She didn’t respond and instead, ran back to the Honda. She returned quickly with the map. Sam, Lex and Sally all joined her as she unfolded the map on the bonnet of the car.
“We’re here,” Chloe said, pointing at a spot on the map. “We need to get here,” she pointed at another location less than an inch away from where they were.
“We’re probably about three miles away. If we can turn around we can go this way.” She pointed at a route that had been marked out in red pen. “It would take us about twenty miles out of the way.”
“Okay,” Sally agreed. “I know it’s longer, but we’ll never get the cars through that.”<
br />
“I said if we could turn around,” Chloe replied. She pointed back towards the car she had been driving. The front of the car had impacted heavily on the tow bar on the back of the Range Rover.
The front of the car was smashed in. Smoke seeped through the bonnet in a steady stream.
“Is it drivable at all?” Sally asked, knowing the answer, but wanting to be sure.
“I doubt it. I can give it a go,” she ran back over to the smoking car, climbed into the seat and started the engine. The car did not respond. Chloe got back out and walked back to the front of Range Rover.
“We can just all squeeze into the Range Rover,” Sally suggested, desperation in her voice.
The four of them looked back at the Honda blocking the road. They would need to push it to move it out of the way.
“Did you see any passing spots?” Sam asked Chloe.
“None. So… we’d need to push it at least two miles.”
“Shit.”
Chloe rubbed at her neck, sore from the impact, “Uphill.”
“Shit.”
“Yep. Our options are to either push a car for two miles, then drive another twenty miles or walk the three or so miles from here. Across that.” Chloe pointed at the sea of bodies.
They stood in silence and weighed up the options. Neither were particularly appealing, yet the lure of being so close to their destination was overwhelming.
“They are dead,” Sam stated. ‘It can’t be that bad. Plus, if it's only three miles, we should be there in about an hour. It will take us longer to push the car back up this road,” he paused and stared out again at the scene before him, “I vote that way,” he said, with confidence that belied the fear inside.
“Me too,” said Sally.
“And me,” said Lex.
“George, what do you want to do?” Chloe asked into the back of the car.
“Doesn’t matter. We’re all going to die,” he replied dourly.
Sally glared at her father. “Dad. Shut the fuck up,” she said through gritted teeth. “Ignore him. He’s been saying that on the way here.”
Chloe and Lex stared at father and daughter. Sally just swore at her father, and he did nothing. He didn’t bat an eyelid. Didn’t flinch.
“It’s agreed then,” Sam said. “We’re going that way.”
“Yes,” Sally agreed, already moving towards the back of the car to retrieve the supplies. “We won’t be able to carry everything. We’ll need to be picky about what we bring.” She pulled out a bag stuffed with food. “Here, Sam, take this one. Dad, you can take another bag with food. We three will take clothes.”
Lex and Chloe hurried to the rear of the Audi. Chloe picked up the bag she had brought from home and Lex chose one that was stuffed full of clothes.
“Do you want the shotgun?” Chloe asked Lex.
“No, thank you. I quite like this axe.”
“I noticed,” Chloe grinned and winced again at the pain in her neck.
Lex laughed in response. “Yeah, sorry about that. Very stress relieving, though.”
“I know. It’s awful. It was once a person, but shooting it felt great.”
“Yeah, exactly,”
“That looks nasty, are you okay?” Chloe points at a red welt forming across Lex’s chest.
“Seatbelt burn,” Lex said rubbing it gently. “It’s a little sore, but I’ll be fine.”
They walked back to rejoin the others. Sam and Sally both held a shotgun. George held nothing.
“Erm… I think we have a spare table leg in the Honda, George,” Chloe said, adopting a kind tone. George turned and stared at her, as though she were the crazy one. “You know, for hitting them,” the proffered explanation sounded feeble, “a weapon.”
“Oh. No. No, thank you,” George replied, then muttered something under his breath. Which they all chose to ignore.
“In that case, you can carry another bag,” Sally told her father, and threw another bag of food at him.
Rucksacks on. Cars locked. Weapons in hand. Together the five of them stepped into the sea of bodies.
Thirty
I have never seen a sight like this before. I never want to again. It is disgusting. Almost as soon as we started, I regretted our decision. Sure, this is the shortest route, but we hadn’t accounted for how slick blood can make the ground. Our feet squelch on the sodden ground. All of us stumble and slip.
I figure that it was the army that caused this mess. Bullet holes riddle the bodies. In many cases, heads have been destroyed, blown apart. Initially, we step carefully, checking for any that might still be alive. Not seeing any, the threat dims, and I stop seeing the bodies as people, just as annoying and totally gross obstacles.
We walk in silence for about half an hour.
The excitement that I might soon see Steve is building inside me and I want us to speed up. He could be so close. We just need to get past these bodies.
“Do you hear that?” Lex asks, breaking the silence. We stop and listen. The sounds of music drifts over the field.
“Music?” Sally asked.
“I think so,” Lex says
“Who the fuck plays music in a zombie apocalypse?” Sam huffs, his face already red from the exertion of the walk, made worse by the weight of a bag of tins on his back.
“Someone who likes to get eaten, I guess,” I say lightly, and start walking again. It is weird. The only reason I can think that someone would be playing music would be to attract those things. But why? It’s hard to get a sense of the direction the sound is coming from, but I’d guess it was coming from the left of the way we are heading. A feeling of deep unease settles in my stomach.
With every step, the music seems to get louder. Then suddenly it is broken by the sound of fireworks. No, not fireworks. Gunshots. Lots of gunshots. Definitely the army. Knowing that safety is so close, I speed up. The others are following behind me, trying to keep up. I can hear them puffing and panting. I do not slow my pace.
Then I hear a sound that makes me stop in my tracks. Groans. Not just one. Lots. I spin around trying to find the source of the noises. It seems to come from everywhere. It permeates the environment, but I cannot see anything. I start walking again, even faster. That uneasy feeling has turned to fear now, because something is wrong; something is very wrong.
I take in the landscape around me, and realise that we have moved off the road and onto a field. The number of bodies scattering the floor makes it hard to tell the difference. My mind solely on Steve, I haven’t thought to look.
A sense of panic now accompanies the fear. I’ve left the map on the bonnet of the car. Stupid. So stupid.
In the distance to the right, I can see a house not too far away. Where there is a house, there must be a road, and I point to the building. “Let’s head that way.” I can see my fear reflected in their faces. All of them, except for George. He has a resigned, almost knowing look.
As the groans increase, so does our pace. Almost at the house now. I had thought we could follow the road from the house, but now my thoughts turn to hiding. Get to the house. Hide. Wait it out.
We reach the house, and I run up to the front door. It’s an old farmhouse, with a solid oak door. Desperation grips me. I bang on the door.
“Help. Please let us in. We just need shelter. Please,” but there is no response. Either the occupants aren’t home, or they don’t want to help us. “Sam, how can we get in?” I turn to him.
“I don’t know how to break into houses,” he snaps at me indignantly, “Just smash a window.”
I search around for a rock or something heavy to throw at the window, but Lex stops me.
“No, don’t. It’s too late.” She points towards hundreds of zombies coming down the road, heading straight for us, “If you break the window they will be able to get in. We need to make a run for it.”
“Okay. If your rucksacks are too heavy, throw them away. We are running,” I tell the others. I keep my rucksack on my back. No matter what, my
last bit of home is coming with me. The others take my lead and stubbornly refused to discard their own. We break into a run. Leaping over bodies, slipping on the blood. We reach a junction, and a quick glance tells me more zombies are coming from that direction too. They are mere metres from us.
“That way,” I gasp, my heart thumping, my lungs struggling for air. I hop over a body, but my foot catches on its shirt. I trip and fall. Face down onto the groin of another corpse.
Sam grabs me on his way past and pulls me to my feet.
“Thanks,” I pant.
“No problem,” he grunts.
The fall has cost me precious seconds, and I can almost feel the zombies from the junction behind me. I risk a glance behind. They are close. Too close. My lungs burn, and I’m not sure if I can run for much longer.
Something grabs at my top, pulling me backwards. I let out a yelp of alarm. Once again, Sam comes to my rescue, smashing the end of the shotgun into its head. The impact doesn’t kill it, but it releases its grasp on me, and I manage to get away.
“Thanks again,” I say to Sam.
This time he responds with a thin smile and carries on running. The adrenaline from the near miss courses through me and serves to inject extra energy into my legs. I speed up, and the ungainly, meandering gait of the zombies allows me to gain some space between us. Hope floods my senses. We can do this. They are slow. We’re fast. We can dodge the bodies. They are stumbling over them.
The problem with hope is that it is fragile. It can be taken away just as quickly as it arrives.
As though in slow motion, I watch as Sally’s leg slips from under her. I see her body twist, fall and land with a thud, her ankle bent in an unnatural direction, and her cry of pain pierces my heart. Her pale face shows pain, fear and panic in equal measure.
Hope is now lost.
George casually observes his daughter, making no attempt to help her. He glances at the approaching zombies, then back to Sally on the floor, and he grins, “I told you that we were going to die today.”
Thirty-One
Safe Zone (Book 1): The Greater Good Page 27