by Russ Melrose
The infected woman didn't seem to notice me. I walked quietly across the backyard keeping an eye on her. She stood listlessly at the back door as if she were in a catatonic state.
I could hear the agitated moans of the two infected from the next yard over, the ones who had seen me when I'd climbed over the fence. They'd gone to the area where they'd last seen me and were now banging on the fence. And I thought I could hear several more infected in the adjacent yards ahead of me. There was a sporadic tapping sound too.
I needed to get a look at the backyards without being spotted. And I realized I needed to be more cautious when I checked the yards out. I didn't want to draw too much attention. Not yet.
The fence in this backyard was vinyl and had no support beam to step on and help lift me up. I'd have to pull myself up to get a look. I checked on the woman one more time. She hadn't moved an inch. I'd never seen one of them in such a lethargic state. She seemed to be in some kind of deep slumber even though she was standing.
I slipped my hands onto the top of the fence, a hand on each side of the corner post. Then I placed my right foot two feet up on the post to give myself a boost. I pulled myself up with my hands and used my foot to propel myself up and keep my balance. I held myself suspended no more than an inch or two above the fence for just over a second before I eased myself back down.
I didn't think any of them had seen me. At least none of them had looked my way. Their attention seemed focused elsewhere. Two were in the catty-corner yard to my left and four in the yard ahead of me. A female in the catty-corner yard was slapping tediously at a basement window with her hand. A male in the same yard walked stiffly toward the nearest fence where the agitated moans were coming from. I was uncomfortable with how close he was getting to my position.
The four in the yard ahead of me were in the middle of the yard, walking toward the back fence, likely drawn to the sound of the woman slapping at the window. There was no way I could get past the four of them.
I stood quietly facing the corner post, going over my options. But I really only had one—the catty-corner yard. I couldn't decide the best way to get around the infected man walking towards the fence. I wondered if it was best to wait till he got near the fence. From the line he was taking, I guessed he would be at least ten feet from the corner when he reached the fence. If he were ten feet away, I should be able to climb the fence and drop down and run to the other side of the yard. But if I went over when he was still out in the yard, he might be able to cut me off when I started to run across the yard.
I listened closely to see if could hear him, but I couldn't. I chewed on my lip, still undecided. I didn't like just standing there; I was antsy to get going. At the same time I was nervous about going over the fence. I decided I would wait ten seconds. He should be near the fence by then. I would get over the fence as quickly as I could and run like hell. I began to count slowly.
I thought about the possibility of using the gun if I had to, but I knew it would be a bad idea. Firing gunshots in the yard would draw the infected from Apollo and Jupiter. They'd fill all the backyards in no time and there'd be no avenue for escape, and I planned on getting out of this alive.
Despite the cool early morning air, my hands were sweaty. I wiped them against the front of my long-sleeve t-shirt to get them dry. Then I wiped them against my shorts.
I'd already finished counting to ten several seconds ago, but I just stood there, stalling. I knew I had to get going. I took a nervous breath and reached my hands up to the top of the fence. I planted my foot firmly into the middle of the corner post. And just as I lifted myself up, I felt the light touch of fingertips trail down my back as I rose upward. I jerked myself up to get away from the hand and a dark chill spirited up my spine. I was so startled I nearly fell over into the next yard. I had to grab the top of the adjoining fence to keep myself from falling into the yard. The four infected in the yard turned and spotted me.
I looked back and the infected woman was gawking at me, her head craned inquisitively to the side as if she were wondering what I was doing. She had a severe wound to the head just behind her left temple where a chunk of her skull was missing. And a wedge of flesh was gone from the left side of her jaw as if she'd smiled too broadly and her jaw skin had ripped apart. I could see her teeth and gums all the way back in her mouth. Her teeth were stained a dark tar color and her gums were shriveled. And like the others, her gray facial skin was sucked in tight against her bones and finely wrinkled. She never made so much as a peep. She just stood there passively with her mouth open, looking at me with dull eyes.
And then I became aware of the rising tenor of the moans. They were agitated, almost hysterical. The infected from the adjoining yards were closing fast. I knew I had to move. But she suddenly reached up for me again and I instinctively shied away from her. I nearly tipped over. I dove as hard as I could to my left to the catty-corner yard to keep from falling, but I overcompensated. I hit the top of the fence heavily with my left upper arm and shoulder. A jabbing pain ripped through my arm. Hitting the fence had flipped my body backwards and I fell hard on my back, the impact punching the wind right out of me.
I couldn't catch my breath and my insides felt as if they had been squeezed in a vise. I doubled up and rolled over onto my side. And I knew if I made any effort to move, it would only get worse. I tried to gasp for even a milliliter of air but couldn't draw a whiff. I cradled my abdominal area with both arms as if that would somehow help. I knew I had to get up and get moving, get the hell out there, but I couldn't move and I was beginning to panic.
I looked up. He'd been maybe fifteen feet away. He stumbled determinedly toward me through the tall grass, his excited, lisping moans rankling the morning air. He was a middle-aged male with high, sharp cheekbones and intense eyes. He was built like me, slender and average in height. And I knew as he lumbered toward me, I was the entire focal point of his life.
He was no more than six feet away now. I had to do something. I only had a few more seconds. The only thing I knew for certain was that I wasn't going to let him get me. I reached behind me for the gun but it wasn't there. I felt in the grass around me but couldn't find it and had no more time to look for it.
I struggled but managed to roll onto my back as he approached. I tried to breathe but I was too stressed and my lungs still felt as if they were locked up tight. I could feel my face redden. He was almost on me. When he got close enough, I kicked wildly at him but my gut spasmed and tightened up again. I could see he was about to fall onto me and I braced myself for the impact. He came at me from an angle and fell onto his knees next to me. His hands grabbed at my chest and he snaked his head in to get at my throat. I threw my hands up into his chest to ward him off, and I clutched handfuls of his collar and balled my fists around them. I used my grip to control him as best I could and keep him away from me. I was frightened but irrevocably determined. He had wild feral eyes and his mouth and jaw shivered with excitement. A liquidy rasping sound echoed through his throat and a string of drool escaped out the side of his mouth and dribbled onto my t-shirt.
I shrunk back away from him and almost gagged from the smell of sour urine and dried feces. The odor coming from him was thick and wickedly pungent.
Even though he was obscuring my view for the most part, I could see the infected female halfway across the lawn, tottering toward us. I knew I had to get him off me before she arrived. And I heard another sound and I wondered if more of them were coming through the gate.
The infected in the neighboring yards were hammering away at the fences near the corner, slamming their fists and heads into the boards and moaning hysterically.
The infected male moved his hands to my biceps and tried to pry my arms away from him. He was much stronger than he looked and he was frenzied in his efforts to get to me. I kept a fanatical grip on his shirt collar with my fists and refused to let go.
He was no more than ten inches from my face and he kept trying to slither his way past
me, but I wouldn't let him get any closer. We were stalemated, but I knew I'd have to think of something to do to get him off me and I'd have to do it soon.
Suddenly, I realized I was breathing again.
The infected female was no more than fifteen feet away now. She dragged her body along at a leisurely pace, stumbling every few steps as if she were tipsy. She was tall and willowy and looked frail. As slow as she was moving, I figured I had maybe six or eight seconds before she'd arrive. I knew I couldn't fight off the two of them while I was lying on the ground. One of them would end up biting me. I had to get up.
The male desperately craned his head toward my face trying to find an opening. A frustrated grumbling vibrated from his chest and throat. It took everything I had to keep him at bay. Next time he came at me, I would use his momentum to roll him over to the other side of me and flip him into the wood fence. I knew it would have to be quick and I'd have to bring him close in to me and then roll with him and forcefully push him away and disentangle myself. And then I'd have to find the gun. I knew the Glock had to be nearby.
I suddenly wondered if I was recovered enough to roll him over. But I knew it didn't matter. I would have to do it whether I was ready or not. And it had to be in the next few seconds.
She was getting close and I could hear her guttural rasping. Just as the male began to lean into me again, I heard the female make an abbreviated hiccup sound and then go strangely silent. I turned my head to get a view and caught a glimpse of her stepping drunkenly sideways as if she had lost her balance. Then she fell hard on her knees and collapsed to the ground and didn't move.
I felt disoriented for a moment, confused. Then I heard someone's feet tramping steadily through the grass, coming toward us. I couldn't see who it was because the infected male hovered over me, blocking my view. The male was still frenzied in his efforts to get to me, but I held him off. Then a silver blur whipped through the air and struck the infected male in the side of the head. His eyes rolled back into his head and his face froze. He stopped moaning and went limp and I hurriedly pushed him away from me.
Standing above me was an old man gripping a trembling golf iron in his palsied hands. He had stooped shoulders and he had to have at least been in his seventies. He had white hair combed back on the sides and was bald on top except for a few wild wisps of white. He had ruddy alcoholic cheeks and was smiling oddly.
"Been wanting to do that for a while now," he said. "Hadn't used this four iron in a long time."
I didn't think we should be talking, but the old man had just saved my life, and besides, with all the racket from the infected bashing the fence, it was likely the infected were already on their way.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
I had my breath back and felt sufficiently recovered. I gathered myself and managed to get to my feet. I looked down at the infected male to make sure he was dead. He was still as could be, same as the tall female. I knew I had to get moving, and I knew the old man needed to get back into his house.
"Looks like you stole a bit of my fence there," he said good-naturedly, nodding in the direction of my left arm.
Three two-inch long wood slivers stuck out from my upper arm like carefully placed acupuncture needles. I glanced at the top of the fence where I'd struck it with my arm and shoulder, and I could see several long slivers of wood peeled back from the wood board.
I hadn't even noticed the slivers in my arm while I was struggling with the infected man. But I could feel them now—a sharp stinging pain, and there was a dull aching in my shoulder. I figured it wasn't a serious injury since I'd been able to use my shoulder to ward off the infected male, and I was certain it wouldn't inhibit me from going over fences.
I was behind schedule. I carefully but quickly pulled the slivers out one at a time. Once I had them out, I carefully removed my top layer t-shirt, making sure not to touch the drool the infected man had left. The drool was all over the right chest area of the t-shirt. After I'd peeled it off, I dropped the t-shirt on the dead male.
The gun was on the ground in the corner. It had been a foot or so behind my head the whole time.
The old man saw me looking at the gun. He glared suspiciously at me as if I were a thief and then raised the four iron over his shoulder in a striking position.
"What the hell you doing out here?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Just helping some friends," I told him. "It's all right. You should get back into your house. More infected will be coming soon." And I nodded in the direction of the fence where the infected were still relentlessly bashing the boards.
He watched me warily as I picked up the Glock. I thought he might take a whack at me with the club, but he just stood there watching me. I placed the gun in its spot in the back waist band of my shorts.
"I've got to be going," I told him. "You should too. Thank you, sir."
I hustled to the other end of the yard and he watched me as I went. Then he turned and scurried toward the open back door. He took short steps and walked with a sideways gait.
I felt indebted to him and I waited in the corner to make sure he made it safely inside. The old man kept looking back at me as if I were a threat. I could hear the infected coming and he heard them too. He picked up his pace, but instead of heading for the back door, the old man headed for the backyard gate. I couldn't believe he was heading for the gate. He could have easily made it inside if he'd gone to the back door.
I ran as fast as I could for the gate. An infected teenage girl was through the gate before the old man could get there. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her. This time he raised the golf club above his head where it waggled as he waited for her, then he brought the four iron down on the infected girl's head as she lurched toward him. He hit her with enough force that the head of the club embedded itself into her skull. She collapsed to the ground like a puppet whose strings had suddenly been cut. The old man tried to wrench the four iron from her head but couldn't get it out.
Another infected lumbered eagerly toward the gate, a young male with wild, bushy brown hair. The old man saw him coming. He must have realized he wasn't going to be able to remove the club from the teenage girl's head, because he turned suddenly and started to run, his face etched with fear. After two steps, he tripped and fell heavily to the ground.
The infected man stumbled excitedly through the gate. The old man tried to collect himself and get to his feet. I ran past him and came at the infected man from an angle. He turned and reached for me, but I was too quick for him. I had a lot of momentum and hit him hard in the shoulder with both hands and sent him flying into the side of the house where he slumped to the ground. I felt a shooting pain in my shoulder but ignored it. I closed the gate quickly and ran over to where the dead, infected girl lay.
I needed the club. I placed my foot on her face and worked the golf club back and forth trying to pry it loose as I kept an eye on the infected man. I was surprised how easily the club had penetrated her skull. The infected man was on his hands and knees now, mumbling and groaning as he struggled to get up. I gave the club one more quick tug and it popped out. I walked over to the infected man and took a baseball swing with the four iron, striking him hard in the temple. He collapsed to the ground and was still. He moaned softly but didn't move. I hit him one more time and the moaning stopped.
The old man's arms wobbled as he tried to push himself up off the ground. I went over to him and helped him get to his feet. Even when I got him to his feet, he was still unsteady. I held him up till he gained his balance. He looked embarrassed.
I handed him the four iron. "You okay?" I asked.
"I'm fine," he snapped. Then he looked down briefly before giving me a quick glance. "I'm okay."
I thought about helping him to the back door but thought he might not appreciate the assistance.
"I have to go," I told him.
He shook his head in acknowledgment as I started off.
"Thank you," I heard him say quietly as I hus
tled away.
I turned and nodded at him.
I ran back to the corner of the fence again. The infected were still in the other corner where they'd last seen me, banging incessantly on the fence boards. It sounded like more infected had joined them. And at least a couple of them had moved to the center area of the fence, maybe because of the noise the old man and I had made. I had two more backyards to go before I'd be where I needed to be. I rubbed my upper arm and shoulder. It was tender, but it would be okay. I barely noticed the soreness in my thighs.
I checked my watch and it was just past five-thirty. I was behind schedule. I told them I'd likely be there in ten to fifteen minutes and it was closer to twenty now. And then I wondered if they might think I was dead.
I needed to hurry. I pulled myself up to the top of the fence and inspected the two yards. My shoulder throbbed from the effort. This time I made no attempt to be cautious or subtle. If there were infected in the catty-corner yard, I wanted them to see me. The yard directly in front of me was empty, but the yard catty-corner to my right had three infected in it. One of them saw me, then they all knew I was there. I gave them several seconds to make their way to me. I wanted to get a good look at them. And I did my best to memorize anything distinctive about them. Once they were within fifteen feet of me, I dropped down into the empty yard.
I knew I'd remember the woman. She had dirty, straggly red hair down to her shoulders and would be easy to spot. I hadn't seen a lot of redheads around. One of the infected men had on what had once been a business suit. It was ripped here and there in the arms and the pants and badly soiled. Miraculously, his tie was still tightly knotted. I knew I wouldn't have any problem spotting him either. The other male would be more of a challenge. He was nondescript. He wore shorts and a short-sleeve t-shirt and was average height like thousands of others. He had dusty, medium-length hair, but then again, plenty of them did. He would be tough to pick out in a crowd.