Sarah stood over him just like the shadow that had been following her for so long. She raised the pitchfork and plunged it down, stabbing him in the stomach.
The killer's body rocked as his shoulders lifted off the snow. He let out a sharp burst of air between pursed lips. A weak smile clung to his face, but it was starting to fade.
Sarah stepped on his leg and used it to pull the pitchfork out of him. Thin ribbons of blood clung to the tines before falling away and splashing over his body and the snow. She stabbed him again.
His shoulders rocked and he spit out blood in a bright spray. He turned his head and looked at her, his smile gone. He just watched her, expressionless, as she pulled the tool out of his midsection and stabbed it down into his shoulder. His arm spasmed and his fingers curled tightly as his body began to convulse.
The blinding rage coursed through her as she stabbed him over and over, perforating his torso and paying him back for everything he did to her. Blood soaked into the snow around him like he had attempted to make a ghastly snow angel. It seeped out the corners of his mouth and he started to lose consciousness.
Sarah paused as his own blood dripped down onto him from the tines, and she stared at his miserable form. Then the last bit of blood-boiling rage bubbled up inside of her and pushed her over the edge.
The pitchfork rose high into the air as if being blessed by the moon itself, then Sarah drove it down as hard as she could into his chest. The sharp prongs sunk deep into his flesh and pools of blood sprung up and oozed out from around them, running down over his body.
The killer let out his death rattle as the life in him was extinguished. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and his arms splayed out onto the snow beside him, his fingers uncurling.
Sarah stepped away from him, taking in all that she'd done. The pitchfork stuck straight up from him like a gravestone marking his final resting place. She sank to her knees and fell forward onto her elbows, lowering her head to the snow. Tears came out of her eyes, but she wasn't crying. It was like the last vestiges of weakness and sorrow being expunged from her for good. She let the catharsis run through her as she wept for everything that had happened in her life, including the lifeless killer in front of her and the blazing house behind her.
The killer sat up.
Sarah's gaze slowly dragged across the snow and up his body, unable to process what she was seeing.
He seemed dazed for a moment, then he looked down at the pitchfork sticking out of his chest. He grabbed the handle and weakly pulled it out, dropping it onto the ground beside him.
Shock came over Sarah and then the fury came back. Her body was beyond exhaustion and she couldn't take the maddening torment anymore. "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!" she screamed. "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!"
The killer rolled over onto his hands and knees, coughing up blood onto the soft blanket of snow. He turned his head toward her and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He raised a weak arm and pointed at her chest.
Confusion came over her, not understanding what he meant.
"I want... what's in you," he said, his speech quiet and uneven. His voice still held its rich timbre, and there wasn't an ounce of agony in it.
"What's... in me?" Sarah repeated, speechless. "What do you mean?"
He looked up at the woods lining the edge of the cliff in front of him. "I can... smell it," he said. He pressed a hand to the side of his head. "It hurts today."
"What does?" Sarah asked. She couldn't believe he was actually talking, and she was further stunned by the cryptic nature of his message.
His eyes swept across the top of the tree line back and forth as if he were searching for an answer. "What they did to me," he said. "They... wanted me to find you."
"What?" she uttered, her eyes widening. "Who's 'they'?"
The killer pushed himself up to his feet with a slow and rolling grunt. His back arched as he stumbled on the spot, his blood-soaked body basking in the moonlight and the glow of the fire as a gentle snow continued to fall. He walked toward the cliff and stopped at the edge, looking out over the vast landscape.
Sarah waited on her hands and knees, staring up at the killer and desperately waiting for answers.
He turned around and looked at her, coughing again as more blood came out of his mouth. He pressed a hand to his chest and watched as the blood oozing out coated it in a shiny red glove. The demented smile came back to his face, but softer and more languid than before. "This was fun," he said weakly.
Then he turned and walked off the cliff, his body sinking like a stone and disappearing from view. A few seconds later, a distant thud came from below.
Sarah stared at the cliff in disbelief. He couldn't be gone; he didn't tell her what he meant when he said someone was looking for her. She scrambled to her feet and ran to the edge of the cliff.
The rock face ran down a good fifty feet before reaching the ground, and at the bottom, mangled and surrounded by a large splatter of blood, was the killer. His face was crushed against the rock he landed on, and all his limbs looked twisted and broken. Despite being unflinching and unceasing before, there was no doubt that he was finally dead.
Sarah stepped away from the cliff and sunk down onto the ground. She looked around blankly as the shock still rattled her.
The shed burned and the house burned, and all the bodies inside had perished into ash, being carried out onto the wind and falling with the snow. She was reminded of the dream she had, running from the shadow through fiery fields of ashen corpses and the charred house they formed. It was an unblemished reflection of not only her destiny with the killer, but also of the miserable and decrepit state of her life. It was a life of waste and suffering with no end. Through all the torment, she was left with no answers and nothing to show for her terrible experience. And though the sereneness of nature laid its tender hand upon her shoulder in a gentle snowfall, it carried with it the senseless death and destruction that forever cursed the world, leaving a dark and bitter taste like ashes in the mouth.
When Sarah recovered from the initial shock, she hobbled through the snow over to the hospital blanket that she had dropped. She wrapped herself in it and wandered off through the woods, never looking back again.
22
New Beginnings
The water moved slowly along the stream, almost at a trickle. The snow choked the sides of it and impeded the current, and Sarah thought how it must look more lively in the spring. But she was enjoying it. There was a serenity to it, and if she closed her eyes she could pretend she was sitting at her desk at the office back when she worked in real estate ten years ago, listening to the motorized fountain in the lobby.
Her feet dangled off the edge of the small bridge, swinging just above the surface. She gripped the edge of the wood and leaned forward, staring at her translucent reflection. The vagueness of the image hid the scars and bruises and made her feel pretty. She lowered a foot down so the toe of her new boot just broke the surface, letting the water skim to either side and wash away her reflection.
Sarah rotated her foot and felt her ankle move without any pain. It had healed up well despite all the strain she'd put on it. All the other aches and pains were well on their way to healing too, and soon this dark chapter of her life would be over. She didn't know what came next, but she had a calm and measured sense of things now, and she felt like she could tackle any obstacle and take it in stride.
Her sleep in the last week was peaceful. The crushing weight that the killer put on her chest was lifted now, and there were no more nightmares. She didn't dream at all lately; when she closed her eyes at night there would only be blackness, and with it, a ponderment as to whether she would wake up the next day. But every day, the dull gray sky would greet her like an old friend.
And every night when she lay down in whatever makeshift bed she could find, she thought about the cryptic words the killer said to her before he died. They tumbled around in her head without any meaning. She couldn't understa
nd who could possibly be looking for her or why. She always knew she was no one special, and that was never a self-esteem problem; just an acknowledgement of reality. He also told her that there was something inside of her that he, or maybe someone else, wanted. This created a paranoia in her that could pop up at any moment. Sometimes she would suddenly imagine that she felt some kind of parasite swimming around in her veins. Other times she would press her fingers into her stomach, prodding her organs and trying to find a hidden package of diamonds or some other ridiculous thing. But then again, maybe the killer was just crazy. She knew he was, but maybe that was all there was to it.
Sarah stood up and looked around at the forest. There wasn't a creature around, and it was as if she had the whole world to herself. She could go in any direction and do any thing; she just had to decide what it would be. The Navy SEALs she met under the overpass told her that the zombie virus started in Raleigh. That was what they heard, anyway. She didn't really know why she chose it or what there was left to find, but she decided Raleigh would be her destination. Maybe there was some bigger picture to all of this, and maybe, somehow, it involved her. But whatever happened in Raleigh, she decided she would dig in and stay awhile.
She walked though the snowy path back to the road nearby. Her decision was made, and whatever events would be set into motion, she would face them. Running was a thing of the past. After standing up to the killer, she felt like she could do anything. That didn't mean she wasn't scared—God, was she scared—but with it came an eagerness to see what the future held and the confidence to handle it. The strength that she had summoned to fight the killer was here to stay. She made peace with the past, acknowledged the way she used to be, and said goodbye to her old self. There were still so many things that would never change about her, but being a victim was not one of them.
When she reached the official boundary of Raleigh and saw the sign at the side of the road welcoming her, she smiled. She looked at the downtown skyline ahead, taking a moment to breathe it all in. She began to feel nervous, but she realized there was nothing to be nervous about. She set off for the city, leaving the road behind her for at least a long while.
As Sarah passed the last remnants of the woods by the side of the road, she heard screaming. She stopped and looked off in its direction, seeing nothing but thick pines. The screams sounded feminine, and another voice followed that sounded gruff and masculine. It laughed and took pleasure in the other person's suffering, and Sarah knew that the voice belonged to a bandit; the sadism and self-satisfaction were unmistakable.
Sarah looked from the source of the screams to the city ahead of her. She was torn with indecision. There was so much bad that was happening in the world that would still occur with or without her, and she couldn't save everyone in need—up until this point, she could barely save herself. Her stomach churned at the pleas of mercy, but she continued into the city.
The bandit cackled madly as the victim cried for help, and then Sarah heard the unmistakable sounds of violent blows followed by the poor woman retching.
Sarah stopped.
The woman continued to protest, but her voice grew weak. The bandit muttered some half-heard things that he was going to do to her, followed by more pleas and cries.
Sarah turned and headed into the woods. She brushed through snowy pines until she came upon a small clearing with a grungy bandit standing over a young woman who looked to be about thirty. "Hey," Sarah said forcefully.
The bandit spun around and pulled out a knife. His eyes were wide with surprise, but when he saw it was only another woman, they softened and he flashed a yellow grin. "What do we have here?" he said. "Two lovely ladies?"
The woman on the ground stared at Sarah with bulging eyes. She was clearly terrified, and she froze like a statue as if she were waiting to see what Sarah was going to do.
"I'll give you one chance to get out of here," Sarah told the bandit.
"Wha'd you say?" he asked incredulously. He slowly skulked toward her, trying not to make it obvious that he was closing the gap.
"If you don't leave now," she said, "I'll kill you."
The bandit stopped and laughed. His whole demeanor softened and he put his knife back in the sheath around his waist. "You'll do what now?" he asked.
"You wouldn't be the first," Sarah said.
A look of something close to offense came over his face and he suddenly glanced around her body, looking for a hidden weapon that made her so confident. But she was armed with nothing but courage.
As he was distracted, Sarah pounced. She tackled the bandit and they crashed to the ground and wrestled in the snow. Sarah got in a few punches on his face and he squirmed around under her as he reached for his knife. Her hands shot out and caught his wrist before he could stab her, and she used all her strength to hold him at bay. The bandit swung a quick hook with his free hand that caught her right in the jaw.
Sarah grunted and rolled across the snow. The bandit clambered over and straddled her, raising the knife. She bucked and twisted under him, putting him off balance enough for her to pull a leg out from under him. She shot her foot out like she was trying to crack a boulder and hit him in the testicles.
The bandit howled and fell backward, his head narrowly missing a rock as his back hit the ground. Sarah jumped on top of him and pinned him down as she grabbed the rock. Just as he raised the knife to stick her between the ribs, she swung it down on his head.
The rock struck him on the forehead, rattling his brain and causing him to drop the knife. Sarah lifted it and swung it down again, hitting him on the bridge of the nose and breaking it. A third blow crushed one eye socket, and a fourth shattered teeth. She didn't look at the results; she just kept swinging. When her arms got tired, she tossed the rock away and was greeted by a bloody, caved-in mess.
Sarah crawled off the bandit's body and got to her feet, brushing the snow off of her. She looked around to find the young woman still frozen in the same position Sarah found her in, with utter disbelief in her eyes. She walked up to her and held out her hand. "It's okay, he's dead."
The woman slowly roused from her state of petrifaction and took her hand. "Who are you?" the woman asked as Sarah helped her to her feet.
"My name's Sarah. What's yours?"
"Carly," the woman uttered after struggling to sort out her thoughts. "How... did you do that?"
"I've had some practice," Sarah replied.
Carly brushed the snow off her and tried to pull out some of the mud caked in her short brown hair.
"How did you get here?" Sarah asked.
"I was traveling with my boyfriend and we ran into some zombies a few days ago. We got cornered and he didn't make it, so I've been on my own lately. I was crossing over into the city when that asshole picked me up," she said, glancing at the dead bandit.
"I'm so sorry," Sarah said.
"About what?" Carly asked, puzzled.
"Well, about your boyfriend."
"Oh, well I guess boyfriend's not really the right term. I only met him a few years ago and we just sort of stuck together for safety. We weren't really boyfriend and girlfriend; we just called each other that. We never really got emotionally close or anything, he was just sort of my 'Oh-my-God-it's-the-apocalypse-let's-fuck' buddy."
"Oh," Sarah said.
"Don't get me wrong!" Carly said. "I still cared about the guy, but that kind of thing doesn't really faze me anymore, you know? Everything's so fucked up that you just get used to it, I guess."
"Yeah, I know what you mean," Sarah said.
"So where did you come from?"
"Me? I don't know... I've just been wandering for a while."
"Well where ya goin'?"
"I'm heading into Raleigh too," Sarah said.
"Cool," Carly replied. "So, uh... you wanna go together?"
Sarah thought about it. "Yeah, I think that would be nice."
"Just for safety, though!" Carly added. "You know, not to fuck or anything. I don't swing t
hat way."
Sarah smiled. "Neither do I."
"Well good," Carly said, smiling as well. She looked at the gruesome crater where the bandit's face used to be and she scrunched up her face in disgust.
"Come on, let's get going," Sarah said.
"Fine by me," Carly replied, and the two of them left the woods and headed into the city. "So really, where'd you learn to do that?"
"I just sort of picked it up," Sarah told her. "I had no choice, really. I've had a serial killer stalking me for a while."
"A serial killer?"
"Yep."
Carly looked behind them suddenly. "He's not... still stalking you, is he?"
"No, he's dead."
"Did you do that to him?" Carly asked, jabbing her thumb back in the bandit's direction.
Sarah sighed and wondered how much to tell her. The wounds had been so recent that she wasn't sure she wanted to relive them all so soon. But Carly was persistent, and soon she told her everything. She surprised herself by how much she opened up to her, quickly feeling comfortable with her, like she was an old friend.
As the two of them walked through the streets of Raleigh, they traded stories and learned all about each other, and Sarah felt like maybe things wouldn't be so bad and she wouldn't have to be all alone. But the sky seemed to turn to an especially dark gray, and a strange pall came over the land that left Sarah with a feeling that she couldn't shake. It was ambiguous, but distinctly negative. The future was uncertain, but she had the strong and interminable feeling that she was walking into something far darker than she had ever known.
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Ashes in the Mouth (Zombie Apocalypse Series Book 3) Page 21