The trail was tight and winding as she traveled through. She rounded a sharp corner and it widened a bit. The trees gave way to the start of a clearing, and she could faintly hear running water up ahead. A large rock almost bigger than her body sat on the edge of the trail, and there was something behind it. The grays of the sky had started to dip toward blacks, and it made the object difficult to see at first. She walked closer to it and suddenly it was unmistakable.
A pair of legs jutted out from behind the rock as if someone was sleeping or dead.
She cautiously moved around it and the body came into full view.
It was a man who looked to be in his forties, and he was dead. He lay flat on his back with his face pointed up at the sky, a look of mild horror on his face, as if it had been great horror when he was killed and then his face slid toward indifference as his soul departed.
There was a chunk of flesh missing from his neck and it was apparent that it was torn out with a set of teeth, and a very human one at that. But yet his skin, while pale, was still the normal shade of a human and not the muddy grays of a zombie.
Sarah was puzzled and she nudged the body with the toe of her shoe to see if she would get a reaction. The body remained still. She knelt down to get a closer look, lifting one of his eyelids and shaking his head, but there was still no reaction; he was certainly dead.
She couldn't understand how he could be bitten by a zombie without becoming infected and turning into one of them.
She moved her hands along his body, searching for something else that could explain it. When she got down to his belly, her fingers glided over thin cuts in his navy blue coat. She pried at them and her fingertips were met with something wet. Pulling them out, she saw that they were coated in blood. She unzipped the man's coat and saw that the whole front of his tan sweater was stained with blood, fresh, but starting to dry. She lifted his sweater and saw a mess had been made of his stomach, with many deep and rough gashes cut into the flesh, drawing blood and other bodily fluids up to the surface.
They looked like stab wounds, and she knew that the man had been viciously attacked and killed with a knife. Her eyes went back up to the wound on his neck, and there was no doubt that the same person had bitten a chunk out of it. When she saw the stab marks, her first thought was the bandits, but she couldn't reconcile the bite. She had never known or heard of any bandit doing something like that; this was on a whole other level of depravity, and maybe something not quite human—at least nothing resembling someone with anything close to a sound state of mind.
She stood up at once and quickly moved along into the clearing, giving one last glance at the body behind her. She didn't know what was wrong, but suddenly she felt cold and watched.
2
Rained Out
Sarah leaned over and splashed water on her face, then cupped her hands and scooped some into her mouth. It hit the back of her throat as she swallowed and it must have been what Heaven was like. She leaned back on her knees and let out a long sigh, exhausted from the day's travels. She had easily gone ten miles without stopping, and now that she had stopped, her legs and feet were killing her.
She sat by the edge of the creek and relaxed, enjoying the sounds of nature all around her. Most of it was masked behind the rain that was starting to come down, but she could hear the odd scurrying of a creature here or there. She reached her arms back behind her and propped herself up on them, stretching out her fingers and letting the sandy stones squish between them. There was a large rock beside her and she shifted her weight and leaned against its hard and cold surface, staring off ahead at the grouping of trees on the other side of the thin creek.
A figure walked right in front of her along the other side. The surprise caught Sarah off guard and she instinctively let out a gasp and fell backward onto the ground.
Darkness had started to fall, but the figure was only a dozen feet away, and it was plain for her to see that it was a zombie. Its shoulders were slumped and its arms dangled by its sides limply. Its feet shuffled through the muddy stones surrounding the creek and it stared straight ahead as it passed from right to left in front of her. It never turned its head when she gasped and apparently hadn't noticed her at all; the rock she was hidden behind might have saved her life.
She stayed perfectly still as she watched it pass, then when it was a good distance away, she grabbed onto the rock and started to pull herself up.
Then the rest of them came. They passed in front of her one by one, following the first zombie. Their feet shuffled through the stones, creating a dreadful symphony of sounds to accompany the pattering rain.
Sarah clung to the rock and stayed crouched, her eyes bulging in her head and her lungs squeezed tight and motionless.
Twenty of them had walked by before there finally appeared to be an end to their parade. They traveled along the creek for a couple dozen yards before breaking away from it and wandering into the woods ahead.
Sarah peered over the rock to see if there were more, but it appeared as if she was once again alone. She got up, ignoring the protest of her legs and feet, and she headed back for the trail to the left. The zombies had stumbled farther into the woods where she intended to go, but she was starting to think better of the idea. She didn't want to be back on the road in the rain, but it was better being out in the open if there were zombies around. Maybe she could take cover just inside the umbrella of trees by the road and wait out the rain.
She thought of that body again and it immediately disturbed her like it had when she first came upon it. She ignored the thought and walked back along the trail where she had come from.
But she didn't make it a hundred feet before she heard more groans. The storm clouds above grumbled and shook out a fresh torrent of rain, streaking across the woods in front of her. In the near darkness, she saw their faces weaving in and out of the trees. She couldn't tell how many of them there were, but that was the problem: the final stroke of sunlight was quickly being pulled to the other side of the world, and soon she wouldn't be able to see anything. She wanted to retreat back to the road, but they blocked her path and she couldn't even tell exactly where they were. Her only choice was to go deeper into the woods.
Her feet started to stick in the mud that was being created under her feet as she backed up and quickly made her way to the creek again. The trail bent sharply to the left at the creek and broke away from it, and she followed. She tried to move as quickly as possible and find the other side of the woods or some kind of safe shelter as soon as she could.
The path was clear ahead as she darted along, zipping through trees and brush, sometimes tripping over small objects jutting out of the ground and stumbling to regain her balance. Her skin crawled and every hair stood on end as her eyes shot in every direction, her hand on her hatchet the whole time. The arrows in her quivers jostled around, and she tried not to be too rough in her movements and spill them on the ground.
She could hear rushing water again and the creek reappeared ahead, much wider than before. There was a wooden bridge spanning over top of it, and the trail continued on the other side.
Before she reached the bridge, she stopped and bent over to catch her breath. She looked around for signs of zombies as the darkness closed in. A stitch tore into her side above her ribs and she held a hand to it as she slowly walked to the bridge. Wooden railings had been built on either side of it, and she held onto one for support. The boards creaked under her feet, barely audible through the rain, which was now relentlessly pouring down. The tops of the evergreens caught it and filtered it down in more pleasant droplets, but she was still getting wet.
Sarah made it halfway across the bridge when she stepped on another board and it groaned. She paused for just a moment, wondering why it sounded different than the others, before her heart started hammering again as she looked down at the bridge under her feet.
They came out from both sides, shuffling their soggy feet through the flowing water of the creek. They were roused from their re
st and they were angry.
She bolted across the bridge and fled from them, following the winding trail that was becoming increasingly invisible. They followed behind, soon matching her speed. She started to panic as she held her arms out in front of her to make sure she didn't run right into something. Her legs felt like they were ready to give out, and she expected herself to just sink to the ground and collapse with each step.
She heard them behind her, but she couldn't see them when she glanced over her shoulder. Her foot slipped on something wet and she struggled to maintain her balance, pulling a muscle in her leg in the process. She cried out in pain, but forced herself to go on. She looked up at the sky as if it would offer her some kind of reprieve or advice, but even the small windows peeking through the trees showing the clouds above were no solace. Tears streaked across her face and were washed off by the rain as soon as they appeared. She could hear the dead louder than before and she knew that they were catching up.
The path ahead dipped down a hill into a valley and crossed a small stream over a haphazard collection of rocks, continuing up a hill on the other side before winding up and out of view. The hill on the other side of the stream seemed too steep and impossible for her to climb in that moment, and defeat set in. But she pushed on, knowing if she could just make it up the hill, the zombies wouldn't have the faculty to follow.
Her legs spun like a cartoon character as she descended the first hill into the stream, and the strain made them wobble. When she had almost reached the bottom, she slipped on the muddy ground and fell forward, landing on a rock in the stream with her knee. Pain shot through it and she cried out, but she knew she couldn't stop.
The dead flew over the hill behind her and tumbled down, their bodies crashing against the rocks and splashing water up all around her. Their arms flailed at her and she screamed, shoving herself forward.
She scrambled up to her feet as they nipped at her heels, and she crossed the rocks to the start of the hill on the other side.
The zombies got back to their feet with alarming speed as she scrambled up the hill. The path twisted around to the side after the first sharp incline, leveling out for a few yards before bending and continuing to climb steeply up.
Sarah used her hands and feet like a crazed dog to carry herself and she tried not to look back.
Some of the zombies managed to overcome the first incline and followed her around to the second, more difficult one, while others were left frustrated and clawing at the muddy ground from the stream.
Sarah struggled up the hill, and her hands and feet were shifting in the mud as she put her weight down on them, but she was making progress. The zombies' angry cries drove into her eardrums like rusty nails and it rattled her concentration. She tried to pay attention only to the hill, but there was nothing but an army of enraged zombies stumbling around her mind.
The sun was completely gone now and darkness had set in. She could no longer even see the ground in front of her, but she could feel that she was getting close; she was almost at the top. Her heart bounced in joy as she felt the shallower grade meet the underside of her hands, and she let out a cry of joy herself the first time her hand slapped against flat ground. She hiked up her knee and planted her foot against the very edge of the hill to give herself the last push to get over it. As she placed all her weight on her foot, the slick mud slid under her and she slipped.
She didn't know where any of her appendages were, or where the ground was, but she could tell she was no longer touching it. She felt that dreadful yet familiar sensation of her heart leaping into her throat, like she was going over a drop on a rollercoaster. She felt her shin hit the ground and she slid down the mud, lower and lower.
Her eyes went wide as she realized what was happening and she cried out in horror, the sounds somewhere between screams and gasping sputters. Her fingernails dug into the mud and slid through it uselessly, and then her shin slipped and her body went tumbling down the hill, picking up speed.
The ground hit her hard and all the air left her lungs. She felt her legs hit something on the way down, knocking it over. It fell on her and writhed around, clawing and snarling. It was right on top of her and she couldn't even see it.
Pure instinct and adrenaline took over and Sarah kicked, clawed and scratched herself away from the horde. She didn't know if she was actually getting away from them or if she was just moving herself closer, but her instincts moved her body in one direction like a torpedo.
She felt limbs slap against her and hands grab her, but she just kicked and wriggled away from them, keeping herself moving. She felt scrapes and scratches, but she didn't know if they came from branches, rocks, fingernails or teeth. And in that moment, she didn't care; she had to get away.
Her body moved across the hard rocks lining the stream, and could still feel flowing water under her, feeling the ground dip down, and she knew she must have been following the stream to wherever it led.
Suddenly there was a sharp decline and she tumbled along the rocks downhill. She heard all the arrows in her quivers fly out and bounce along the ground like pick-up sticks. Pain struck her body everywhere and wherever she landed, she just wanted it to be over.
The ground left her completely again, and a couple seconds later she landed hard in a little gully. A sharp snapping noise rang out and she knew she had broken something. She lay on her back, not moving a muscle and just waited for her inevitable fate.
She listened to the approaching sea of undead groans and the thunderous pattering of their feet. She stared up at the edges of the gully, and there was just the slightest difference in light outside of it, allowing her to see where it ended. Otherwise, with the sounds of the evil night bouncing around her in the tight space, she might have thought she had fallen into a bottomless pit.
A moment later, something heavy fell on top of her. She gasped for air, but her lungs could taste none. Then the heavy weight moved around and let a slow and raspy wail drift out of its mouth like the comfortable and practiced drawl of a southerner.
Sarah was pinned down and helpless. She didn't move a single muscle and waited for the zombie to realize what it had landed on.
It twisted onto its stomach, coming face to face with her. It dug its hands and feet into her body and pushed off of her, getting up to its feet and shuffling along the bottom of the gully away from her.
She was still stunned and held her breath, unable to believe what just happened. She thought for sure she was a goner, but if she couldn't see it in the dark, it must not have been able to see her either. Being that close, she knew it had to have smelled her, but with all the rain and mud covering her body, her scent was all but washed away.
She heard the rest of them above. They hadn't fallen in with the other zombie, and they walked along the edges of the gully. She saw their shadows faintly visible as they passed and she wondered how it had gotten light enough to notice.
Then she noticed the scent wafting through the air. Like burning wood. But this time she knew she wasn't imagining it. That's what really must have masked her scent, because the rich smokiness of it was strong and unmistakable.
When the zombies had left, she finally worked up the courage to move. To her surprise, aside from being battered and sore, nothing felt like it was broken. She turned onto her side and her bow fell off her shoulder, feeling oddly loose. She picked it up and realized that the wood had cracked in half. She tossed it on the ground in disappointment, knowing it would be useless to her unless she wanted a very strange pair of nunchucks. She picked herself up and climbed out of the gully onto the ground above. When she got clear of it, she could see a glowing light in the distance.
There was an overpass ahead on top of a tall hill—no doubt the same highway she had been traveling along—and there was a fire burning under the bridge on a flat slab of concrete next to a long slope that funneled down into a short flood control channel at the same level as her.
The light faintly illuminated the area just e
nough to see what was right in front of her. The zombies had disappeared and she didn't hear anything around. Her body ached as she walked and she knew she needed to find somewhere to finally rest. She kept her eyes on the fire, and as she got closer she could hear voices coming from it. The bridge was far away and she could only make out the brilliant flame burning through the night, but then she saw someone move into view, leaning next to the fire and moving something with their arms.
Like a skulking creature, she crept ever closer to it, mesmerized by the flame and the warmth that would come with it. She could make out the voices more and more as she approached, and they sounded happy—friendly, even.
The trees had become sparse in the area and the full brunt of the storm above cascaded rain down on her. The temperature had dipped down and it must have been close to freezing. But still she couldn't approach the people around the fire; she didn't trust them. She didn't really trust anyone anymore. How could she? Almost everyone she'd met since the world went to shit was a psychopath. For all she knew, the people gathered around the fire above were bandits.
She looked at the flame out of the corner of her eye, already starting to turn her head away from it like a hurt child looking away from an apologetic parent. There was a short cropping of rock ahead and she spotted something on the ground nearby that looked like a sheet of metal. She picked it up and felt her fingers fall into the cold grooves. It was at least a few feet across in both directions and would be big enough to shield her from the rain.
A small tree sat near the cropping of rock and a thick branch jutted out near it at about the same height. She pulled the sheet of metal over to it and hoisted it up, propping one end on the rock and the other against the branch. It was a bit of a stretch, and the rock was uneven, leaving the sheet to balance precariously, but it stayed in place.
She crawled under it and sat on a slick rock as she pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged herself, shivering violently in the cold. The rain slapped loudly against the metal and rolled off the sides. The situation wasn't ideal, but it would allow her to dry off a little and hopefully not freeze to death in the night.
Ashes in the Mouth (Zombie Apocalypse Series Book 3) Page 2