Broken (Book 3 of The Guardian Interviews)

by Michael Clary

  I guess I was about five kills into it when I caught a glimpse of Nick bringing down a zombie in the corner of my eye. Unfortunately, there was another zombie a mere five feet away that Nick never saw. Well, that zombie sure as hell saw Nick jump up and drag down its undead buddy.

  It crouched forward and began its undead stalk through the grass. I’m not sure why it didn’t scream out. Perhaps it only caught a glimpse of Nick’s movement. Not enough to be positive that it saw food but enough to make it curious. That’s just a guess, though. Its posture, however, made it painfully obvious that it wasn’t taking any chances. It even clawed its hands up like a Velociraptor.

  I moved to help Nick.

  Staying low, I made a beeline straight for him. When I stopped to look again, the zombie pursuing him had abruptly vanished. I moved faster and, in doing so, made more noise. I heard him from a few feet away. I couldn’t see him through the grass, but I could hear him grunting, and cursing.

  I parted the grass in front of me. Nick had managed to kill his first zombie, but the second one, the zombie that spotted him, was in full attack mode, and poor Nick was pinned to the ground by its immense bulk.

  Now, I had seen the shambler coming for him from a distance. It had looked to be pretty fat but that was nothing compared to seeing it up close. The zombie was probably over four hundred pounds.

  Nick could barely breathe, and I had no idea how he even managed to turn around so that they were chest to chest after the zombie jumped on him. Still, he managed to do just that, and the only reason the fat zombie hadn’t screamed was because Nick had jammed the handle of his fire axe into its snapping jaws.

  I swung my tomahawk.

  The back of the shambler’s head went flying off into the grass. The body dropped limply on top of Nick. Nick grunted, and then gagged as black juices from the open skull poured onto his face and hair.

  “Get this thing off of me,” Nick shrieked.

  “Be quiet,” I whispered.

  I grabbed the corpse by the arm. I pulled, and Nick pushed. Together we rolled the beast off of him. Nick got to his knees immediately, and began to frantically rub away the vile juices with his sleeve.

  “Oh man,” Nick said. “Oh man, I got some in my nose.”

  “Be quiet,” I said.

  It was too late for my warnings. We had already drawn attention. Four of them came at us through the grass, one after another. The first one was a woman. She made a weird sigh when she saw us. She wore a filthy t-shirt and torn jeans that showed the putrid flesh of her thighs.

  I threw my tomahawk the second I saw her. The blade punched through her face and stuck. I heard a crunch behind me and spun around with my Bowie knife. Before the shambler’s hands could get ahold of me, I brought the knife down in a chopping motion, and cleaved its skull all the way to the nose.

  The corpse of an old man without a shirt tackled me from the side. I spun before I hit the ground, and buried my knife into the roof of its mouth deep enough to penetrate the brain.

  The final zombie came at Nick.

  It was a skinny girl: probably a teenager judging by her skirt and tiny shirt. Nick swatted her to the ground with one hand. Pushing himself up with the other, Nick buried his fireman’s axe into her skull before she got back to her feet.

  My stomach was bleeding again.

  I could feel the slight trickle of blood oozing down around my stomach. I hated the feeling. I hated myself for not healing the wound properly, and I silently vowed to not allow it to weaken me.

  I clamped a hand over the wound. I couldn’t really put too much pressure on the damage due to the bite suit and vest but it seemed to work sufficiently.

  Dudley came up us as I was retrieving my tomahawk.

  “What the hell have you guys been doing?” Dudley asked.

  “What do you think, asshole?” Nick replied testily.

  “Well, I took out the rest of them,” Dudley said, ignoring Nick’s question entirely.

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  By way of reply Dudley stood up in the grass. Nothing charged him, and no screams shattered the quiet night.

  “How did you guys keep all those fuckers from screaming out?” Dudley asked after surveying the bloody scene a second time.

  “We nailed them as soon as they saw us,” I answered.

  “Damn,” Dudley said. “That’s some good work.”

  “I did most of it,” Nick grumbled while he continued to wipe at his face.

  “You look like you tried to wear one of them for a hat,” Dudley said to him.

  “Well, let’s see what you look like after having the weight of some fat ass drop on top of you,” Nick replied.

  “How much noise did we make?” I interrupted.

  “Not much,” Dudley answered. “I thought I heard Nick saying something. I might have heard the weapons hitting the zombies, but you guys were pretty quiet.”

  “All right,” I said. “Let’s get to the house.”

  I led the way. Dudley and Nick fanned out behind me. After the grass came a thin stretch of old trees, and beyond that was my backyard’s rock wall. We climbed over the wall and landed in the landscaping of my backyard. We crunched past the rocky part of the landscaping to the grass area and made our way onto the rear patio.

  Light from the windows blazed down upon us. I didn’t appreciate stepping out of the darkness but at least nothing would be able to creep out at us through the shadows.

  The three of us went to the side entrance, where ages ago a trio of dead had slammed against the sliding glass door and chased us from my home. I don’t know what I expected to see but things were just as we had left them.

  The glass door was still broken. Only the frame and a few jagged shards were left to keep out the dirt and weather. The carpet inside was ruined. No amount of cleaning would ever make it right again.

  The zombies chasing after us had stepped on the fallen glass. Bloody footprints ran from the side entrance all the way to the remains of the flimsy wooden door that led to the garage.

  “Wow,” Dudley whispered. “It feels weird to be back here.”

  “Do you remember leaving any lights on?” I asked.

  “I don’t,” Dudley answered.

  “Then you guys had company,” Nick said. “Because someone came in here and turned on all your lights.”

  “Captain Obvious,” Dudley said.

  “I saw the place from the street,” I said, “so I knew the lights were on, but I only took a quick glance so I figured it was only the outside lights. Why would someone come in here and turn on every single light?”

  “It doesn’t make much sense,” Dudley said.

  “You guys check out the downstairs,” I said. “I’ll go up and check out my bedroom.”

  I didn’t wait to receive a response. I wanted to see my old room too badly for that. I wanted to face the dread creeping into my heart. Of course, I had no idea what I was dreading. Maybe it was the thought of someone disturbing the bedroom.

  Bedrooms are normally a private place. They aren’t something that visitors often spend a lot of time in. It was also the only room on the second floor, so intruders from parties or whatever weren’t normally inclined to wander so far away from the usual groups of people in the kitchen and backyard.

  Then again, maybe it was none of that. This was Skie’s room as much as mine. Perhaps under the circumstances, I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone entering a place that held so many memories dear to my heart.

  I saw footprints on the dusty stairs. My guard was up. Something wasn’t right about the house. The lights had been turned on for a reason. We had taken the bait and stepped into the trap. When was the damn mystery going to reveal itself?

  I entered my old bedroom slowly and cautiously. Nothing was out of place. I checked the closets. I checked the bathroom. Finally, I stopped before the bed.

  I’m sure it was my imagination. It had to have been my imagination, but I caught a faint scent of Skie�
��s perfume. It was coming from somewhere in the sheets. I moved closer to the bed. The scent was coming from her favorite pillow.

  I picked up the pillow, shaking the dust off it. I smelled it again. Nothing. I pushed my face into it. The softness, the gentle touch of the fabric of the pillow case against my skin took me to a different place. It brought up memories I didn’t know I still had.

  I never found the scent again.

  Still, I had something else. I had memories of better times, a past that had been immune to the evil of the present. I’m not sure how long I stood there with my face pressed into that pillow. I lost track of time. My world was falling down around me, but alone in that room, I was with my wife.

  I sat down on the bed. A sudden wave of grief crashed against the rocky shore of my soul. For just a brief moment, I let it flow all around me. I let it consume me. With a groan, I began to push it away.

  A loud crack echoed through the quiet night. Glass broke from somewhere downstairs, a soft crunch and a tinkle of sound followed by two dropping bodies. Nick cursed loudly.

  “This is it!” he shouted out when he finished with his litany of four letter words.

  A brief moment later, the windows downstairs began exploding inward as bullets entered the house. The sound was deafening. We were facing some serious firepower.

  The bedroom, however, was not under fire. I gently placed the pillow back on the bed and tapped my earpiece.

  “Dudley,” I said. “Kill the lights.”

  “On it,” Dudley replied.

  Peeking my head out the door, I watched as one by one, the lights downstairs began to extinguish. Some of them were simply turned off, others had their cords yanked out of the sockets and still others too far away to reach were shot out. I quickly turned off the bedroom and bathroom lights then had to brave the hail of gunfire and extinguish the hallway light outside the bedroom. For that, I almost took a bullet in the hand.

  “Can you make it upstairs?” I asked.

  “Not unless we wanna take a few bullets,” Dudley answered. “Can you make it downstairs?”

  “No,” I answered. “Return fire and distract them. I’m going to the roof.”

  I went to the sliding glass door that led out to the balcony. I checked around, and saw plenty of places that would be great for a sniper wanting to take a shot at me. However, none of them were very secure, and with all the noise, the dead were headed towards us. I could see them climbing the fences of the field we had used to reach the house. I could hear them moaning and screaming from the street in the front of the house.

  No sniper would find a safe place in the midst of the dead. I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to get shot at, so I went out on the balcony, and quietly climbed up to the roof. Now, the roof has many angles and different levels. Therefore, it wasn’t too difficult for me to remain unseen by the bad guys as I made my way to the front of the house.

  I could see the muzzle flashes easily. The attack was coming from the house next door. I moved to a different location to get a better look. The doors and windows of the house were all reinforced.

  The house had been prepared for war.

  The trap became very clear. Our enemy first used a human-fog horn to wake up the zombies in the neighborhood, and then they opened fire on us as soon as we had trapped ourselves in a home with all the lights on. All the while, they remained safe in a house with boarded up windows. After that, it was a toss-up as to who would get us first: the shooters or the shamblers responding to all the noise?

  We were in a bad spot.

  Yet, that didn’t worry me. I had expected a trap. We endangered ourselves, and allowed them to make the first move just so we could find them. I was even a bit shocked that the morons hadn’t managed to wound at least one of us.

  I had explosives. My plan was to sneak down and blow the front of their house open. I wanted to see how brave they would be if the zombies had access to their sanctuary. I tapped my earpiece.

  “Stay low,” I told Dudley. “I’m going to open up their sardine can.”

  “Not a problem,” Dudley answered. “Take your time.”

  I made my way down the opposite side of the house. My boots crunched on the rock landscaping. I shot down three zombies making a run for me, and began to worry about how much time I would have to set the explosives.

  I ran to the front of the house. The dead were everywhere. I looked to the house next door where the shooters had taken up residence. The front yard on that house was getting pretty crowded with the dearly departed.

  I wasn’t going to be able to use the explosives. At least not the way I had intended. I had a moment of indecision, just a brief loss of situational awareness. A cold hand arm wrapped around my neck and tried to yank me to the ground.

  I heard the sound of teeth scraping against my bite collar, and I shoved the shambler away in a fury. I looked around. The dead were surrounding me. I sized up my chances. It didn’t look good. There were too many.

  I spun around. I needed an exit through the crowd. My plan had gone to Hell, and I couldn’t think of a backup. I needed a moment to collect my thoughts, and that wasn’t going to happen while I was being attacked.

  I saw the gap I was looking for. I also saw something completely unexpected. The house directly across the street from mine had an upstairs light on. I could see the glow through the large window. However, even more important, was the solitary figure standing there with his arms crossed as he watched the scene below him unfold.

  I had found the Monster.

  I charged through the gap. Dead hands reached out for me. Jaws snapped when I got too close. I ducked, dived, and weaved in and out, making my escape. I didn’t run directly to the Monster. Hell, I’m not that stupid. Instead, I ran down the road.

  My new plan was to lead the gathering horde away. This would improve the odds for Nick and Dudley, and I also didn’t want a bunch of hungry zombies following me into the Monster’s house.

  With my stomach injury, I wasn’t moving as fast as I can. In order to compensate for the lack of distance I would normally be able to create with a sprint, I cut off down the road, and jumped a rock wall.

  I screamed out in pain as I hurled myself on the other side. The tearing sensation in my stomach was bad. I didn’t even land cleanly. Instead I slapped cement with my tailbone and elbows. The hard plastic guards protecting my elbows worked pretty well but my ass took a beating.

  The dead were right behind me.

  I didn’t have time to cry about things. I got up and limped to the next wall. I was slower going over this wall but that didn’t mean it hurt any less. Immediately I scanned the new yard. The house had a clawed up wooden door, and it was hanging open.

  I ran for the door. The zombies were just starting to climb over the rock wall. I could see their disgusting hands reaching up for a grip. I closed the door quietly behind me. I heard a quiet moan emanating out from the shadows surrounding me.

  I wasn’t alone.

  Through a small window, I saw the majority of the horde run out of the backyard as they searched for me. Unfortunately, some of them decided to hang around and investigate. Eventually, the hangarounds were gonna sniff me out.

  I set off away from the backyard door and made my way deeper into the dangerous shadows. I used my flashlight, keeping my fingers over the beam so it wouldn’t be too bright. In the living room, I found the half-eaten remains of four bodies.

  I heard banging on the back door.

  I sped up. I listened for the quiet moan, and when I heard it again, I zeroed in on its location. The house I was in was only one story, but it was a big one. So, the dead were already through the wooden door and searching for me before I managed to locate the former owner.

  I found her in one of the back bedrooms. She seemed to be an elderly woman, though age can often be difficult to determine due to a zombie’s decay. Still, her grey hair was more than enough evidence for me. She was tied by her wrists to the frame of a hospital bed
. A wall of medical equipment long turned off was next to the bed.

  My best guess is that she had been someone’s sick grandmother. The former occupants of the house probably attempted to take care of her after she was bitten, but eventually the zombies broke in, and got them all. At least that would explain all the scratches on the back door and the corpses in the living room. I’m not sure what the medical equipment was for; I suppose the woman had health problems before she was bitten.

  Regardless, grandma was excited to see me. She moaned and groaned happily while she strained against her bonds. She even tried some sort of scream but for whatever reason, it wasn’t very loud.

  The stink in the room was horrible, but I didn’t let that bother me. I grabbed the sheets right off of her and crawled under her bed.

  The dead were close behind me. Then again, when are they not?

  They rushed into the room. They knocked over the medical equipment. I stayed perfectly still under the sheets. Grandma was jabbering about a mile a minute, but the zombies could not understand why she was so excited.

  In no time at all, they moved out of the room and began to search the rest of the house. I think I had to stay there about thirty minutes before it was safe to leave.

  During my wait, I tapped my earpiece.

  “I couldn’t blow the front of their house,” I told Dudley. “There were too many shamblers out there. How are you guys doing?”

  “We finally made it to the upstairs bedroom,” Dudley answered. “But we’re still trapped.”

  “I found the Monster,” I said. “Let me take him out, and then we’ll see what happens.”

  “Make it quick,” Dudley said. “The freakin’ shamblers are beginning to enter the house.”

  That wasn’t the best of news. More zombies had obviously arrived, because I had led the bunch in front of the house away. I sighed heavily, and sat back to wait things out.

  When I could finally leave the safety of my hiding place, I stood up and took stock of my injuries. The wound in my stomach was bleeding again. My arm hurt like Hell. None of it bothered me very much though. I would soon have my revenge.