Escape from the Dead

by Joshua A. Brown

  “Well, it’s good to meet you,” Jake said. “I’m glad as fuck to be here- my new car crapped out about ten miles from here.”

  “I suffered a similar problem yesterday,” Mick said.

  “Well, I saw the light on up here, and I figured it had to be you guys,” Jake uttered, taking off his hat and wringing it out, before looking up toward the loft. “Come on down, you fags! I’m here!”

  Mick, grimly, looked at his brother.

  “Yeah, well, ‘us guys’ is just me,” he offered. “Jon hasn’t shown up, yet.”

  Jake looked disappointed, but then his head snapped up to look at his brother in terror.

  “What do you mean, Jon hasn’t shown up yet?” he demanded. “What about Marty? Andy?”

  Mick merely stared a moment, under the gaze of Jake and Ash.

  “Come on.”

  A moment later, with Ash back in the hayloft, Mick and Jake stood over the graves of Marty and Andy. The rain had stopped, and mist had risen to coat the ground as Jake shook his head in disbelief. He nudged the toe of one boot through the mud, and then looked up at Mick as distant lightning trailed away.

  “And you’re sure it was them?” he asked Mick. “How do you know?”

  Mick pulled the still-crusty dog tags from his pocket, extending them toward Jake.

  “I found Marty and Andy’s tags,” Mick explained. “But Jake, I didn’t find any of Jon’s. We gotta believe he’s still coming.”

  Jake was silent a moment, but nodded.

  “We’ll give him all the time we can,” Jake offered. “Seemed like there were bunches of those things around, though.”

  “We’ll deal with it,” Mick said. “We have to, for Jon.”

  “You kill all these other ones?” Jake asked. “The Andersons?”

  “Yeah,” Mick replied sadly. “Sure not how I expected to find any of ‘em.”

  “Just think about all the time we spent down here,” Jake said with a bitter grin, which spread to Mick’s face as well. “Anderson’s moonshine…”

  “Yeah,” Mick agreed.

  “That time we went skinny dipping with all those girls,” Jake continued, now laughing a little. “Man, we were lit. All those cops showed up.”

  Mick laughed as well.

  “Marty wanders out there, decides he’s gonna be the group spokesman,” Mick recalled. “Talking to all those troopers. One of us probably should have told him, he didn’t have any pants on.”

  The brothers laughed at the memory, but the mirth was short lived as sounds began to come from the trees, and the farm around them. Shuffling sounds, breaking sticks, and then… soft moans. Jake sighed in resignation, while Mick shook his head in disgust.

  “I guess it was just a matter of time,” he said.

  “I drove through a bunch before I had to ditch,” Jake said.

  “I guess all that shooting I did earlier must have brought ‘em in,” Mick guessed.

  “Doesn’t matter now,” Jake said. “Let’s get the girl, take one of these trucks and beat it.”

  They rushed back to the barn, and entered quickly, climbing the ladder to the hayloft, where they found Ash sitting quietly on the blanket. At first, she merely looked up at them, but as each was gathering packs and putting them on, she got to her feet with concern. As each of them got their main weapon, she became filled with fear. She approached Mick gingerly.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “We’ve gotta go,” he said to her. “Now.”

  “Oh my god…” she uttered, her eyes welling with tears until Mick leaned in close to her face.

  “Listen to me,” he said. “You stay close to me, and you’ll be fine. We’re going to grab some stuff we can carry, and take one of those trucks, and get out of here.”

  She said nothing, but nodded, and he went back to getting ready to go.

  “Give her a gun,” Jake said, but she put up her hands, shaking her head.

  “No, no guns,” she protested.

  “Great,” Jake said. “Take only what we can carry.”

  Mick had slung a backpack on Ash, and had all his own things on. He regarded the small arsenal, and picked up the Spas-12, slinging it over one arm. He picked up a nylon case, and strapped it to his pack, knowing that there was a gun in it that had been Anderson’s- an UZI submachine gun he’d picked up by less than legal means. Since he let the boys shoot it, they never much cared where it came from. Jake checked the chamber on his weapon, and looked back at them.

  “Let’s go!”

  It was a tense trip down the hayloft ladder, and soon, the three of them had stepped into the night, which brought an immediate reaction from Jake.

  “Shit!” he blurted, noting that the ever-increasing number of the things between them and the vehicles was almost impossible to cut through. Mick had turned, spying the approach of a pair of the ghouls; one in a bathrobe, while the other was in a white lace wedding gown. He wasted no time in downing the pair of them with his rifle, while Ash had stared into the crowd, spying that near her was Uncle Mike, and she smiled.

  “Uncle Mike!” she called to him, stepping forward. She was halted and drug backward by Jake, and the three of them watched as Uncle Mike, having heard Ash’s call, began to turn. The more he turned, the more it was revealed that a large section of his head had been torn away, and blood had coated his left side. Ash shook her head, and then had fallen to sobbing as Mike began to make his way toward her, his moans louder, his eyes wider.

  “We’ve gotta get out of here…” Jake said to them. Mike was too close, but at once, there came a roaring up the driveway, and in an instant, the light from the motorcycle’s headlight cut through the monsters, and Jon brought it to a halt, slamming into one of the things. He was off the bike quickly, and he leveled the rifle on Mike.

  “NO!” Ash screamed.

  But the rifle went off, and Mike keeled to the side, and went down. With wide eyes, Jon regarded the others.

  “I say we get the fuck out of here!” he shouted, but was pawed at from behind. He ran from the ghouls, realizing that the bike was now to be left behind as well, and the group of them ran from the farm, toward the trees. Ash had to be drug along, devastated by Uncle Mike’s fate, but once inside the trees, they paused, only momentarily.

  “Where to?” Jake asked. “Quickly!”

  “If we cut through here, and cross the creek, we can head up that big hill, and we’ll come out at Route nine,” Mick said. “From there? I don’t know.”

  “Right,” Jake said. “That hill ought to slow them down, so let’s beat it.”

  They set out at a run again, quickly making their way through the forest surrounding Anderson’s farm, down a slope to the flowing creek, which was slightly more full from the rain. The three men, dragging along their female companion, waded through the creek, and then started up the muddy hill as the sound of moaning and wailing was fading behind them.

  Soon enough, all of them breathing hard, they had reached the top of the hill, and had a short walk through sparse trees before they stepped out onto the hard concrete of the east-west county road called Route 9. They paused as they reached it, and while they were standing around, making sure nothing else was closing in on them, Mick approached Ash, and he extended a hand to her with something in it, which she stared at for a moment.

  “Go on,” he said. “It’s going to get cold tonight, so take it.”

  She did take the greenish-blue hooded sweatshirt from him, and she merely held it as they briefly conferred away from her, and then the whole group set out to the west. As they walked, Ash removed the backpack to pull on the sweatshirt, and shared a glance briefly with Mick, who could only think about just how dreadful the day had begun, and now how dreadful it had ended.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN- THE MORNING AFTER

  The dawn was cold, foggy, and brought with it a cruelty that Ash had never felt before, and it had left her silent, but there had been little time for conversation anyway. The four of
them, who had run into more groups of the staggering, terrifying dead things along the roads they were walking, had eventually taken to the forest for traveling, hoping to make it to a place called Miller’s Crossing by the middle of the day.

  They had climbed yet another of the tree-covered, rocky hills when finally, to her relief, Jake had brought everyone to a halt. He looked around a moment, but the first of them to speak was the one she knew the least about, but disliked the most. Her one interaction with him thus far was that he had shot her Uncle Mike in the head with a rifle. Now, he had a slight smile on his face as he looked at the others.

  “Some night, huh?” he asked.

  “Good thing you showed up when you did,” Jake told him,

  “I always did like to make an entrance,” Jon joked.

  “Yeah, just like all beauty queens,” Jake shot back, which made even Mick laugh.

  “So, we circle back around and hope those things cleared out, right?” Jon asked. “So that we can wait there for Marty and Andy?”

  Jake and Mick exchanged a glance.

  “We won’t have to,” Mick said, presenting the dog tags. Jon, aghast at the development, stood for a moment, shifting uneasily as though he was trying to decide what to do next. He stormed away, and Jake went after him. After they had gone, Mick looked over at Ash, who was staring at her feet.

  “You all right?” he asked her.

  “Yeah, great,” she droned. “Your friend there is all sad because his friends are dead. I’d love to remind him that I had to watch him shoot my uncle in the head.”

  “You’re uncle,” Mick said, sounding a bit cold. “Your uncle… who would have done to you just what that naked thing was going to do.”

  Now, she looked up at him, her expression somewhat hurt.

  “Jesus…” she uttered.

  “Jon’s dead friends are my dead friends,” Mick said flatly, sounding almost like a warning.

  She struggled for something to say. Anything to say, but looked near tears again, and instead, lifted her hands, and then let them slam back down to her sides. Mick could definitely feel sorry for her, but he had his own horrors and sadness to deal with, so it wasn’t like she was alone in this stew. Finally, her eyes did fill with tears, and she gazed at him.

  “Everything is just… I can’t…”

  Mick put a hand on her arm, and when her eyes found his, she felt that comfort again, but folded her arms across her chest.

  “You aren’t alone out here,” he said. “Your problems are our problems, and everyone is tired, and frankly, pretty scared.”

  “You guys are scared?” she asked, sounding skeptical.

  “Damn right we are,” Mick told her. “And fear is a great motivator. You should trust us.”

  “How do I know you’re not some kind of rapists or… perverts or something?” she asked.

  Now, Mick smiled.

  “Hey,” he said, stepping back from her. “Ain’t I the guy who put more clothes on you than you had on when I met you?”

  She shrugged, and then nodded.

  Jake had followed Jon to a ledge that overlooked a highway below.

  “My god…” Jon wheezed. “How could we make, it, and not them?”

  “That’s just how it shook out, Jonny,” Jake said. “That’s how war goes.”

  “This is war?” Jon asked, wheeling around.

  “Sure feeling like it,” Jake said. “And this time, we’re on the ground, man.”

  “Well that’s just fucking great,” Jon complained.

  “Don’t,” Jake said, and then paused. “Don’t let this eat you. I need you in real-ville, Jonny, and the reality is, whatever happened, Marty and Andy got themselves killed. We need to move on from here, and make who’s left stronger.”

  Jon had to think a moment.

  “Where will we go?” he asked.

  “For now? Miller’s Crossing,” Jake said. “After that? I don’t know, honestly.”

  Jon looked down at the rifle, worked the lever, let both men watch the last empty shell fly away into the brush, and huffed a laugh.

  “And… so much for this thing,” he said, and hurled it off the ledge.

  “Jonny, what…?”

  “Fuck it,” Jon said. “Not even sure why I’ve been lugging it around since last night. All I had was six shots for it, and those are gone.”

  “You still got a gun?” Jake asked.

  “Yeah, my pistol is still good,” Jon answered.

  “Let’s get back with the other two, and keep moving so we can see if there’s anything, or anyone, in Miller’s Crossing,” Jake said, and the pair of them headed back.

  Meeting up where they had left Mick and Ash, the group stood for a moment, and Jon leaned in toward Ash.

  “Sorry, I guess last night there wasn’t time, but I’m Jon,” he said. “Jon Hicks, and I’ve been friends with these two as long as I can remember.”

  “Oh, well, I’m Ash,” she said, still somewhat cold. “And… you shot my Uncle Mike in the head last night.”

  “Oh,” he said, and looked at the other two. “I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t know.”

  “But,” she said, sounding a bit softer. “At least now, he won’t be one of those monsters.”

  “Great, we’re all a big family now,” Jake said. “Time to head for town.”

  “Where’s your rifle?” Mick asked Jon, who shrugged.

  “Empty,” Jon answered. “And I somehow doubt we were going to find any more of that ammo out here.”

  “Super, you can lighten my load,” Mick said, and handed off the Spas-12 to Jon, who took it appreciatively.

  “Nice gun,” he said.

  “I don’t know how many shells are in it right now, but I swiped a bunch from Anderson’s place,” Mick said.

  The group started walking, making their way down the hill, and off toward the road Jon had been looking at from the ledge. That road would lead them into the town of Miller’s Crossing, where hopefully help, supplies, or both could be found. Mick was glad to have the shotgun off of him, and he couldn’t wait until later, when he could get rid of the shells for it as well.

  But the journey to Miller’s Crossing ended as Jake stared through binoculars from the top of a hill, and turned back to the others. He looked rather unimpressed with the situation, and put the binoculars away. Jon moved up to look past Jake at the town, while Mick was watching behind them. Jon had been given the shotgun shells, and Mick looked over to note that Ash was looking at the screen on a cell phone.

  “You got a date?” he asked. She looked up.

  “No,” she said, sounding annoyed, and she put the phone away.

  “We could go down there, but I think we’re going to draw a crowd,” Jake said. “We’d do well to just get off the highways for a bit, camp for the night, and figure out what the hell we’re going to do from there.”

  “There’s just a million of these damn gas stations and diners along the highways,” Jon added. “And with all this going on, and all the people trying to get out of towns and cities, there’s five hundred cars at each one of them.”

  “Cars,” Jake uttered quietly.

  The group of them left behind the traffic-clogged gas station near the town of Miller’s Crossing, and continued back into the forest just off the road. Using the map, Jake continued to lead them on their hike to the west, though even he was uncertain why he’d chosen that direction. The day was a bit warm, but no rain moved in, and they were all quietly thankful for it. Soon enough, they were heading up another of the hills in the area, which looked over the wooded area, out toward the highway.

  “It’s a good spot,” Jake said. “If we stay just over the edge of that hill, we should be able to have a fire without attracting attention.”

  Moving to the top of the hill, they had begun to set up camp, and Jake was watching the road from the ridge as Jon was fussing, for the fourth time, with where it looked like he might set up to sleep. Ash was sitting quietly off to the s
ide while Mick was taking apart his rifle to clean and oil it. Jon grunted in frustration as the darkness was settling over them, and Jake had returned to their camp to start a small fire.

  “Something on your mind?” Jake asked, not looking up from where he was getting the fire started.

  “Pick something,” Jon said, beginning to pace.

  “Don’t start,” Mick offered, putting the rifle back together.

  “Don’t start!?” Jon shot back, halting in his pacing. “We’re hiding out here in the woods because the world has been ripped to shreds, and is covered with things that shouldn’t even be up walking around. We can’t stop anywhere that can offer us real shelter because there’s nowhere safe from those things, or even from other people who have just decided that laws don’t mean shit.”

  Mick had set the reassembled rifle down as Jon turned to look at Ash.

  “And look, I’m sorry about your uncle and all, but you haven’t hardly said a word all day, and you won’t really help with anything, or carry much,” he said to her.

  “Why don’t you back off?” Mick said in a low tone.

  “And that’s another thing,” Jon continued.

  “Uh, guys?” Ash said. “I’m right here.”

  “Oh yeah?” Mick said, getting to his feet. “What’s another thing?”

  “Guys, come on,” she urged.

  “You’ve been super protective of her all day,” Jon observed. “You get any closer, you’ll be on a knee handing her a ring. And look at you- you think you’re some kind of god damned action hero?”

  Now, Mick scowled, stepping toward Jon.

  “No! I walked a million fucking miles to a place yesterday that I thought was going to be safe!” Mick snarled at him. “And when I showed up, I found two of my best friends that were basically just piles of meat on the ground. I had to kill a fucking little girl and a baby with a fireplace poker, and all I got left to remind me of Marty and Andy are these fucking scraps of metal!”

  He had hurled the dog tags at Jon.

  “So you want to ride my ass because I give a shit about someone else who maybe wasn’t as good at any of this as we are?” Mick demanded. “Get stuffed.”