by W. A. R.
“Yeah, well…What we have right now is each other, and I am not going to turn my back on…this.” He told her, referring to the entire situation, to her, to someone who needed his help. She felt her respect for him grow, especially considering the depth of his emotion that he dared not delve into. He was just as scared and confused of this new world as anyone else, he simply refused to show it and that called to her.
The radio beeped, startling her. She jumped slightly and looked down at the radio in her hand. “You never responded. What is going on? Is Buddy ok? Are you?” Miles asked, and she heard commotion behind his voice and the static. Buddy raised a challenging brow at her, the truck bumping as the gravel road turned to asphalt. No, she had not answered she realized, she had been more concerned with deciding what to do and where to go. She looked out of the window at the houses that passed them by, Biter’s wondering aimlessly around in their yards. Old neighbors, friends once lived in those houses. This was her home, her town, and she turned her lip up in disgust at the sick feeling the thought of familiar faces on rotting corpses brought about. She shivered and pushed the depressing memory away, turning back to the radio.
“Buddy’s fine and so am I. We…well, we found someone.” she assured him, the radio beeping as she released the button. A part of her had wanted to say nothing, to allow Brian what little peace he had to continue, at least for a few moments. There was silence before the radio clicked back on.
“You found someone?” Miles asked and Amber heard a hint of relief in his voice, but also a new worry and curiosity. In the background she heard Brian ask if they were harmed, or if the man had attacked them, and he did so loudly. There was a heated debate happening in the background, and she had heard it even though the transmission was a short one. Amber closed her eyes and sighed. She knew Brian was trying to leave to aid them, less concerned with what she was saying and more concerned with what she had previously said. Loving brother to the rescue; but Amber knew better this time. This time, he would be the one that needed to be rescued from the pain, shock, and guilt that was going to eat at him when she told him who it was. She dreaded it, but she needed to prepare him for the sight that he was sure to see. “Amber? Talk to me.” Miles’s voice pleaded with her, breaking her from her depressing reverie. Buddy glanced sidelong at her, prompting her to admit the truth. She pressed her fingers on the button and exhaled slowly, her hand trembling.
“Miles…tell Brian that it’s Rick. Rick Taylor.” She said and she felt as if her voice were but a mere whisper. The radio went silent for a moment and all Amber heard was the rumble of the truck engine. Buddy simply stared straight ahead at the road before him, bypassing a Biter here and there. He was unsure of what to say, whether to console her or to ask for further details about the art room at the school. Amber felt the sting of tears when the radio beeped again and Miles’s voice filled the silence.
“Brian went outside angry, but he isn’t going anywhere. Who is Rick?” Miles asked and Amber heard nothing but silence behind his voice. She hated being the one to cause Brian such inner turmoil but she had no choice. If she had been heartless, she could had simply ended Rick’s life and pretended nothing had ever happened, pretended as if she had never loved Rick in the first place. But she wasn’t, and he was like a brother to her, just as much as Brian. There was no way she could have left him behind.
She pressed the button on the radio. “He is our cousin. Keep an eye on Brian for me…please?” she asked of him and she already knew that he would readily agree before the question was even asked. Buddy tightened his grip on the steering wheel, seeing what lay before them and Amber shuddered. Miles would catch what she had meant by her words, and her heart ached. What if they didn’t make it? They would be left wondering about so many things. Horrible images of her death would haunt them. She swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat. No, she willed herself, they would make it. They had to.
The radio beeped. “Come back here.” Miles pleaded with her, and she sighed once again. She had to be forceful.
“We will be back soon. We are going to get the plaster.” She said and she sensed the tension that now radiated off of Buddy as they entered city limits, the bus shop to the school coming into view.
“Turn left at that road, and then take a right.” She told Buddy as Miles radioed back.
His voice became agitated and laced with concern. “You two don’t need to go into town alone. Come back and we can go with you.” He tried to convince her. She decided not to address his last sentence, as they were nearing the school, and quite frankly, it was so hard to say no to him when all in all she would rather just go back and hide under the tattered covers, pushing the entire scenario as far away as she could.
She pointed to an awning that led towards the cafeteria. Her voice quaked as she spoke, letting Buddy sense the nervousness that she felt. “Drive under that awning. The art room is just on the left down a short hallway.” She told Buddy and he did just as she said, his speed never slowing. They both bounced in their seats as they hit the concrete that was placed under the awning. She gave him no further instructions as he slowed to a stop in front of a set of Plexiglas double doors on the left.
“Amber? Buddy? Don’t do this!” she heard Miles exclaim through the radio that she had placed on the seat beside her. She grabbed her gun and knife, ignoring the sound of his voice and opened her door, sliding out. She watched briefly as Buddy grabbed the keys from the ignition and did the same, readying his weapons. His hands were trembling slightly as well, and he paused for a moment to survey their surroundings. Amber followed suit, inhaling deeply to even her breathing. They searched around them for any Biters, seeing only three about 200 yards away on the other side of the school. He nodded at her and they shut their doors easily, leaving unconscious Rick in the truck. Amber rounded the front of the truck and approached the doors behind Buddy. There was blood on the glass, having turned a smeared and flaky brown color with time. She reached for one of the two handles with the hand that still clenched her knife with such force it hurt. She jerked the door open, removing her hand from the handle and holding it open with the heel of her foot. She held the door open for Buddy to ease in, his focus on the rooms ahead. Amber glanced around outside once more for Biters and followed him in. She had her gun raised as she motioned for him to stop. Both doors to the two rooms that occupied this part of the building were closed, and through the two opposite double doors that led to a playground she saw two Biters headed in their direction.
Buddy replaced his knives where they had been on his person and stepped forward quickly, locking the doors so they couldn’t attempt to get in and get towards them. Her eyes skimmed over the walls, seeing all of the hand painted bricks that so many students had done over the years, when her eyes landed on her name. She had been a senior in high school when she painted it. The background color of the brick was a golden tan, fading into a dark red, and there was a rose and thorns laced around her name that was painted. She couldn’t believe that it was still there after all of those years, and yet there it was: her name left for the rest of the world to find, her mark for future generations, if there were any. She swallowed, studying the bricks more closely. Classmates names, including Rick’s, surrounded hers in varying colors, the sunlight filtering through the doors reflected against the colors making them bright. They had all been friends, and their individual personalities were reflected on their bricks. Buddy turned back towards her, once again retrieving his knives and he raised his eyebrows at her.
“Are you alright?” he asked her and she suddenly felt weak and vulnerable under his scrutiny. Couldn’t she just once be strong? Just once, couldn’t she act like she belonged in the cruel and vindictive world? She swallowed. Maybe Miles was right; she didn’t belong there. But she had made it, hadn’t she? She had survived and she continued to do so. She wasn’t weak.
She nodded, removing her eyes from the walls with friends names staring down at her and began towards the heavy wo
oden door on the left. “I’m fine.” She lied, reaching for the doorjamb. She wasn’t fine and she felt as if she worried about it more and more with every passing day. She turned the knob and the door eased open with only little force. She had her gun aimed into the darkness and she whistled. Buddy leaned against the wall to her left, watching and listening for any signs of life in the blank space before them. Once they decided that there was nothing undead lurking in the room Amber replaced her knife in its holster and removed her flashlight from her pocket. She clicked the button and watched as the bright flash of light filled the room. Desks were empty, some overturned. Papers and paint littered the floor and she felt disheartened. Slowly, she began sifting through a few papers here and there with the toe of her boot.
“Did you know the names on the walls?” she heard Buddy ask as he kicked a dried paint bucket to the side. She refused to look at him.
“Some of them…most of them… yes.” She admitted to him and she felt his sympathy without him having to say a word. She hated it. There were times that she wished she couldn’t read people so well, then again it did come in handy. She waited for a response from him, but didn’t receive one. Instead, he turned from her and continued shifting desks in search of paper mache. She sighed and did the same. After a moment of finding nothing of use on the floor or on any of the desks or tables in the room she turned her attention to the closet of materials. Buddy went ahead of her and easily opened the door, revealing shelves of items reaching toward the ceiling. Her flashlight scanned the shelves, lighting up the immense amount of boxes and the height of the shelves. Her breath caught at the sight, wondering where to begin. They had to hurry and get back to Rick and the others. She rushed to the shelves, shifting through sketching papers, canvases, painting supplies but to no avail. She heard Buddy doing the same behind her in the lingering light of her flashlight.
They searched quietly for a few minutes, sifting through the papers and products. Sweat beaded on Amber’s brow and she wiped it away quickly with the back of her hand. The rustling of stiff papers caught her ears, and she turned and glanced over her shoulder at Buddy as he hurriedly flew through a shelf. She was moving quickly as well, panic setting in and she urged herself to will it away.
“Why do ya’ll stay here if it is so painful?” he asked suddenly, genuinely curious. His words had interrupted the silence and had brought a sense of heartache to Amber. She remained silent for a moment as they continued shifting through things, tossing aside irrelevant findings. She hesitated in responding to his question.
“I never said it was painful.”
He never spared a glance her way. “You didn’t have to.” He replied and she shrugged. He noticed this and sighed. “Besides, seeing those names on that wall bother me too.”
This surprised her. “You knew some of them?” She attempted to keep her voice neutral, but she couldn’t keep the small part of sadness that came out from her words. He shook his head.
“Nah. It just reminds me of what was and what will never be again. Those people will never be the same.” He told her honestly and she hesitated in her search for a brief moment. She appreciated his honesty and acceptance. She moved to the back shelf and began searching again, deciding to give him an answer.
“It’s familiar…painful but familiar.”
“Familiar?” he asked and she nodded, more to herself that to him.
“We can navigate easier here; we know where things are.” She said, moving aside a box only to find one, but the big bold letters on the box indicated it was what they were looking for. Relief cascaded over her and she smiled to herself. The box was wide and heavy as she drug it off of the shelf. “Like this.” She told him and he stopped and placed his knives back in their holsters before turning to her as she heaved the heavy box towards him. He easily caught it, eyes widened in surprise. Slowly, he opened one side, checking to ensure that it was indeed the plaster used for paper mache. There was more than enough needed in the box. “Let’s get out of here.” She said and he quickly led the way out of the room, but stopped. Amber stepped around him and saw what he was staring at. There were at least six Biters on the side of the playground wanting in, and they were desperate, banging on the glass. Amber removed her pistol, ready for a fight.
“We need to go. Now. Hurry.” He told her calmly but his tone was urgent and he raced to the other end of the hallway towards the truck. If there were that many out there in that short amount of time then there had to be many more on the other side. There were no Biters visible around the truck and they rushed through the doors, the door banging against the stop in place for it. It rattled but Amber never heard it as she ran to the other side of the truck, watching Buddy slide in, tossing the box into the middle before freezing. She heard the groans, the desperate pain filled moans and the dragging of feet. They were so close she could almost feel their greedy fingers on her flesh. “Oh shit. Get in, now!” he urged her forcefully and she opened her door, struggling to get in while her right hand still gripped her pistol. He cranked the truck and threw it quickly in reverse, seeing only a few Biters behind them. Amber lifted her eyes to the windshield and saw it then. There were at least fifty Biters in front of them, some so close they touched the hood of the truck as Buddy mashed on the gas, the force of it jerking her forward. Unprepared, her forehead slammed against the dash and she winced, but forced the lingering pain away, her heart racing as her eyes scoured the areas around for Biters. Easily they cleared the awning, but she panicked once they passed the outer wall of the cafeteria. There were at least a hundred more coming at them from the side.
“There’s more!” she warned him and he glanced out of his side-view mirror before his face went slack with surprise and then tightened in fear.
“Fuck!” Buddy exclaimed shifting in drive. Biters ran into the tailgate of the truck, grabbing it, their fingers scraping the metal.
“Go right! Through the playground!” Amber explained and the truck accelerated at a dangerous rate, Biters still holding onto the back of the truck, being drug behind them.
“There’s a fence!” he exclaimed, panic settling in on him. Of course there was a fence. Amber turned back to the playground before them and he reached across her, pushing her back against the seat. “Hold on!” he exclaimed just before the grill of the truck hit the fence with full force. They jerked forward, but didn’t go far thanks to the strength of Buddy’s arms, both on the steering wheel and against her chest. The chain link fence rattled before caving under the pressure. The tires spun on the metal before finally gaining traction. They sped forward, the back tires turning in the dirt as Buddy swerved through playground equipment. They clipped the passenger side mirror, the glass and plastic snapping off. Amber ducked in response to the hit, and Buddy jerked the steering wheel to the left. He tried to avoid the high metal swing set, but his back tires fishtailed, causing the rear end to slam into the metal of the equipment. Amber and Buddy jerked form the impact and tried to steady themselves from the adrenaline rush and the dizziness that followed the crash. With the impact, the worst possible thing happened. The engine died and all got quiet.
“No. Hell no. What happened?” Amber asked quickly, stealing a glance behind them at the advancing Biters. Buddy shifted the truck into park and tried the key. She wanted to scream, to cry, to do anything but sit and hope that the truck turned over.
“It’s not starting!” Buddy exclaimed just as a Biter from the playground side of the doors slammed against her window, its nasty ugly teeth snapping at the window. It drug its fingernails across the window, one of the fingernails breaking off and staking claim on the window. Buddy tried to crank the truck again, mashing repeatedly on the gas as he did so. The truck tried to turn but it didn’t make it. “Shoot it!” he exclaimed as he turned the key back for a split second before trying to crank it once again. There were five more Biters coming from between the buildings before them. Thinking quickly, Amber reached for one of Buddy’s knives and jerked it from his holster,
her knife wedged between her leg and the door. Amber hurriedly rolled down her window just low enough to stab the creature. She yelled with the effort it took to shove the knife into the skull of the creature given the limited space. She jerked the knife back and heard the engine try to turn over. Quickly she looked around and saw another Biter coming towards her side of the truck, too close for comfort. She rolled her window a little more to get off a good shot and she pulled the trigger. Her ears started ringing loudly in response to the bullet leaving the gun, and she grunted as the Biter fell to the ground. She couldn’t tell due to the high ringing sounding throughout her skull if the truck finally caught, but she assumed it must have as they began to speed forward again. She didn’t have time to roll up her window when they by-passed three of the five Biters, clipping a fourth and hitting the fifth head on. Its body fell to pieces, its head breaking off at the neck at ramming against the windshield, causing it to crack. Amber shrieked, instinctively ducking before the truck bounced over its torso and what was left of its legs before finally speeding towards the road.
“Take a right!” Amber yelled, seeing about twenty more Biters off to the right in the parking lot of the school. Cars were placed precariously along the road, some wrecked, and others with doors open. She saw the drop off that meant the curb was steep. “Buddy, wait!” she exclaimed but it was too late. Buddy had pressed harder on the gas in anticipation of the drop, the truck flying off of the curb, the jolt with which they landed jerking them towards the hood and Amber almost completely out of her seat. She dropped the knife that she held into the floorboard of the truck and grimaced as her elbow rammed into the door. They heard a loud thump from the backseat. Amber turned to see Rick lying on the floorboard of the truck, unconscious. “Turn left, and then a right on Stateline. Follow it down to old tire road. I’ll tell you where to go from there.” She told him before she clicked the safety on her gun and placed it between her belt and jeans, climbing into the backseat.