by Lee Dunter
Ryan guessed that the undead gathered outside numbered somewhere in the hundreds, like a pack of dogs waiting to be fed their next meal. Did they even have enough ammo to kill all of them? Ryan searched in himself for some hope. Any hope, anything at all he could offer to the group. He found nothing.
Kyle spoke, succeeding where Ryan had failed. “The roof! We could go to the roof and try to take them out from there!”
Roe studied the suggestion. “No.” He shook his head, discernment on his face. “It’s too risky, too much noise. By the time we killed all of them, we could have attracted twice as many.”
“Ya, I guess that’s true,” Kyle said. “There’s got to be a way out, though. I know it! We weren’t left alive this long to just die here.”
Ryan did not know if he agreed with Kyle. He saw no higher power guiding them safely from here, a being that had omniscient control over their fates. If so, where was it for all those who had died yesterday? Ryan knew he could very well join the dead soon–here, now. But again, he was okay with dying. He could finally escape this nightmare and see Deborah again. It was only in this mindset, when he had given up hope of survival, that Ryan found the solution. The plan formulated in his mind, and all thoughts of going to see Deborah vanished. The night before, he had seen every single weapon in the store. He knew them all: the ones that made lots of noise, the ones that made no noise . . .
“Guys, I think I’ve had a stroke of genius.”
Ryan explained the plan and the others listened attentively. Ryan expected to be laughed at by the twins, for Kyle to place one hand on his shoulder and say, “God forgives you for your stupidity, brother.” Instead, Ryan was surprised to find consensus.
“Genius,” Albert agreed.
Cam followed. “Shit man, did you major in zombie survival?”
“He probably didn’t, but I did. And this is going to work,” Roe said.
Kyle just placed one hand on Ryan’s shoulder and smiled.
Twenty minutes later they stood on the roof, the heat barreling down on them with no wind to rescue. This was good, Ryan had to remind himself as he wiped the first drops of sweat from his eyes. Wind would only make things more difficult. At their feet were two crossbows and a collection of arrows–all that the store had. Ryan went through the plan in his head again, looking for any glaring flaws.
When none were apparent, Ryan said, “I guess it’s time.”
Joe and Roe looked at each other, nodding their heads, and picked up the crossbows. They each pulled the lever at the end, bringing the bow to a ready position, then loaded an arrow. Holding the crossbows uneasily in front of them, they looked through their scopes and shot into the mass of zombies below. Neither hit their intended targets, but because the streets were packed, each arrow found a zombie. One landed in between the shoulder blades of a zombie, causing it to stagger forward, while the other thudded into a zombie’s chest. Both zombies continued as normal, no sign of pain, no sign of awareness, as if nothing had happened at all.
“So we have do have to destroy the brain to kill them,” Albert said, arms crossed, in the mild mannerism of one who just made a scientific breakthrough.
Everyone was silent as arrow after arrow rained into the hoard of zombies, afraid that they may break the twin’s concentration. The arrows narrowed closer to their targets, until finally they began to pierce their intended skulls. Zombies soon fell with arrows sticking out like horns, knocking other zombies to the side, and creating movable space. The twins continued to kill the zombies, aiming for the ends of the hoard, layering the already bloody ground with more bodies. Finally, the barrage came to a halt.
Roe breathed in deeply. “The arrows are all out.”
“Yep. I reckon we got around fifty of them,” Joe said proudly.
“Ya, looks about right,’ Ryan said, wiping sweat off the back of his neck as the heat of the Atlanta morning beat down upon him. “Good work boys. Now its time for the hard part.”
The twins dropped the crossbows, and everyone made their way back to the staircase. All but Ryan, who stood near the edge of the building, looking down at the beasts. His face was measured, his mood surprisingly serene, yet he felt something inside him rising and keeping him stuck in place. He stared at each of the zombies on the ground, arrows piercing through temples and forehead and eyes and crowns, and studied their facial features, trying to find a balance between empathy and callousness, mourning over their lost lives yet accepting that they were dead long before the arrows touched them.
“You coming?” Ryan heard Joe asked. He turned. Joe had his right hand in his pocket, his left resting on his hip. He looked down at the ceiling and his lips moved side to side without rest. He looked up at Ryan and said, “It’s time, let’s go.”
“The hard part,” Ryan said. There was a silence between them, making the shuffling and moaning below seem louder.
“Ya?” Joe said, his impatience growing.
“It’s not having to fight them. Well, it is. But it’s not the real hard part. That is leaving Atlanta. When we get down there I’m still not sure if I’m going to follow you or if I’m heading home.”
“Ya? Why would you want to do something stupid like that?”
When Ryan didn’t answer, Joe readjusted his stance, clearly taken back by the silence. He let his arms fall to his side, and sympathy filled his face. “Whoever it is you think is there, they’re not anymore. You know that and I know that. They’re gone.”
Ryan had broken eye contact, looking away in attempt to control the tears. “I look down there,” he said, pointing over the edge, taking a step closer, “and I see faces, distorted with death and some kind of supernatural disease, but faces. And I know they’re dead, and they’re gone, and there’s nothing we can do. And I even know that whatever they are, zombies or whatever name we give them, Deborah is also. But somehow I can’t make the connection that Deborah is no longer human, is beyond saving. I’m still trying to save her.”
Joe held his gaze with Ryan. He nodded. “And if you try to not one of us is gonna blame you. But ask yourself, would this person want you to risk your life for no good reason, or would they want you to try to live, to find life again?”
The silence between them seemed like it would be short lived, like someone would say something profound to break it, but it lingered, and lingered, until Joe beckoned towards the stairs, Ryan nodded, and they both left the roof.
Back in the gun shop, Ryan flipped the light switch, but the light didn’t respond. He flipped the switch up and down, looking expectantly at the lights overhead, mouth agape like a child absorbed in cartoons.
“Fuck,” Roe said. “It’s already begun.” His voice sounded distant and out of control.
“What has?” Ryan asked, forgetting the light switch.
“The end of civilization,” Joe answered for his twin. Looking out the window at the crowded yet desolate street, Ryan found this difficult to argue against. This thought suddenly came: these streets were always crowded yet desolate. So was this the end or start of civilization? He shook this disturbing thought.
When Kyle spoke, unease was already spreading through the group. “Oh come on. Aren’t you being a little dramatic?”
“What’s wrong, preacher man?” Albert asked smugly. “Is this not in your story book?”
Ryan sighed. He didn’t want to hear their bickering right now.
Calm and collected, Kyle replied, “Yes, it is. I just never thought it would happen in this way.” The two men stared at each other in silence, not wanting to be the first to compromise their stance.
Seeking to unease the tension, Ryan broke the silence. His sudden words, directed at another cause, made the decision his conscious mind could never make, his heart could never make: “This just means we need to get the hell out of Atlanta as soon as we can.” He did, however, catch Joe nodding at him. He returned it.
So Ryan walked through the dark room, navigating through clothes racks guided by the sunlight
streaming in through the front windows. From behind he heard clothes rustle in their racks as the others followed. Everyone found their packs sitting where they were left the night before and they equipped themselves. Next to the packs laid a collection of new items: the only three shotguns and a collection of shotgun shells. Ryan, Joe, and Roe picked up the shotguns, began loading, and placed the extra shells in their pockets. Earlier that morning, Joe had shown Ryan how to load and operate the weapon. Even though Ryan informed Joe that Kyle owned a shotgun, Joe had insisted that he partake in “the fun part” of his own plan. Ryan reviewed his early morning lessons now, hoping he was prepared.
Ryan turned to the other three, who stood by the back door. “You know what to do.” Albert and Kyle left the store, the sound of their steps echoing off the stairs. Ryan waited for their ready. According to the plan, Albert was sitting by a window that gave a clear view to the apartment entrance, and Kyle was standing at the top of the stairs, halfway between Albert and Ryan, ready to relay messages between the two groups.
“Yessa Masta,” Cam said. He began gathering water bottles, cliff bars, and other valuable items, before he would meet up with Albert.
“Are you ready,” the twins asked as they took their positions.
Ryan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had been so busy planning that he had taken no time to be afraid of what lay ahead. But now, about to be confronted with a horde of these devilish monsters again, fear ravaged him like fire. He forced a confident smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
The three pointed their guns towards the gate and the shop window. Signs lining the windows portrayed the store hours and advertised once-in-a-lifetime deals on select merchandise. Simultaneously they pulled the triggers, and all of this was instantly destroyed. The glass shattered to pieces and crashed to the ground. Ryan’s ears rang due to the deafening sound, his shoulder sore from the kickback. The zombies staggered backwards from the spread of the shot, but made no attack. They fired again, and this time the zombies reacted. Their heads twitched, looking for the source of noise. Their bodies jerked awake, fully alert, just as if they were alive. Growls filled the street, and suddenly the zombies sprinted towards the gate.
Ryan was immobilized by fear. He tried to move, tried to pull the trigger, but he couldn’t. In each face of the undead, he saw his beloved Deborah staring back at him. Meanwhile the twins fired into the crowd, having a field day mowing down the zombies. The shots echoed loudly throughout the store. Above the racket, Ryan heard Kyle scream, “It’s working.” With each shot, heads exploded, spraying the charging zombies with a concoction of blood, brains, and decayed flesh.
Ryan shut his eyes to the horror, and when he opened them again, Deborah’s face was gone: he saw clearly. They no longer looked surprisingly human. With no immune system to protect them, they were quickly deteriorating. This hadn’t quenched their hunger for flesh, though.
The twins had to reload, leaving no one to stop the charging zombies. A group of the undead climbed through the window, screeching and growling, eyes glared intently ahead. Ryan felt as if they all stared at him, wanted to devour him, sought to make him into one of their kind.
Joe yelled, “What are you doing? Fucking shoot!” But Ryan still couldn’t. He couldn’t believe it. Had he really chosen this moment, arguably the most potentially heroic of his life, to bow out like a coward?
More zombies poured into the building, spreading their unbearable stench: a mixture of burnt flesh and rotten eggs. Ryan closed his eyes, accepting defeat. There were simply too many to escape. He hoped it would be quick, that they’d go straight for vital organs; that they’d finish by shredding him to pieces, so he couldn’t reanimate. But he knew better. He foresaw a pack of zombies feasting ravenously upon his entrails as he cried out in pain, and then they’d leave him there to become what he hated most.
A noise snapped him from his defeat–metal clanked as the zombies ran full force against the gate. It swayed inward with their force. Seizing the opportunity, Ryan fired the shotgun at the closest zombie, its decaying hands reaching out at him through the gate. As it fell lifeless, fear left Ryan. He fired again and again, falling into a rhythm of zombie destruction.
Before he knew it, he had to reload. The zombies now filled the entire front of the store, tearing their weakened flesh against the serrated edge of the gate. Once reloaded, Ryan fired into the horde again. Ryan heard Kyle behind him yelling that it was time to move out, but Ryan pretended not to hear him. Killing the zombies was bringing him peace, as if somehow he was revenging Deborah. He didn’t know if this peace would continue after the gun was empty, so he was going to make this last.
Roe and Joe had retreated to Kyle, but Ryan still stood his ground, emptying his gun into the undead horde. As Ryan reloaded, the gate unhinged and fell to the ground. Zombies piled into the room after him. At the last moment, Ryan jumped back, evading the outstretched arms of a zombie, and fired, blowing its leg off and forcing it to the ground. Not wanting it to slow him, he threw the gun down and sprinted towards the door. With sweat pouring down his face, he continued toward the door guided by the faint light of the piercing sun. As he passed into the doorway, Roe decapitated a trailing zombie with a swipe of a machete.
Kyle slammed the door shut behind them. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”
They met Albert and Cam at the apartment entrance. They ran down the stairs, towards the door and found it closed. Albert and Cam had terrified looks. Ryan heard the sound of the gun store door snapping, and the zombies’ screams got louder. Ryan’s peace and bravery fell away.
“It won’t fucking open,” Cam said, kicking the door.
“Why didn’t we check this before?” Albert snapped, speaking rapidly and seeming more like a mouse than ever.
“It’s just jammed, jackasses,” Roe said, and pushed Cam out of the way. Roe turned and climbed the stairs two at a time, spun, and let his momentum build as he ran back down. He jumped into the door, completely unhinging it, and fell to the ground on top of it. Outside, the ground was littered with arrows and dead bodies. But nothing else. No zombies were in sight.
“Ryan, you’re a freaking genius!” Joe shouted ecstatically, as he helped his brother stand.
It worked! Ryan thought. It really fucking worked! He filled with pride upon seeing the success of his plan. The noise of the shotgun had lured the zombies to the others side of the building, leaving a clear path out this door. Now the only problem was that the zombies were in the building and headed straight towards them.
The first zombie abruptly arrived in the room. Ryan reached for his handgun, drew it, and prepared to shoot, but Joe ran forward, yelling “No! don’t! It will make too much noise.” Ryan lowered his weapon as Joe raised his machete, swung at the zombie. He was too late. Kyle threw up his hands in defense, and teeth sunk into the webbing between thumb and index finger. Blood gushing down his wrist, Kyle shrieked as Joe kicked the zombie away, bringing the machete down against the zombie’s neck. It made a clean slice and the head rolled away.
Chapter 8
Nervous eyes shifted, each person hoping the next would know what to do. Kyle gripped his bleeding stump, looked down at the hand which twitched as if still attached, then looked around at the others. His face revealed a mind that knew the facts but did not accept reality. Staring at Kyle, knowing the bite was a future bullet to the head, Ryan felt his mouth dry, his lungs tighten. Joe sighed deeply, his face turning blood red, and he raised his machete.
Ryan could bear the sight of Kyle losing his head–not here, not now. “We need to go now,” Ryan commanded. “More zombies will be here any moment.”
Joe looked like he might argue, but he reluctantly lowered the weapon. Kyle pulled off his shirt. After Kyle fumbled with the task, Albert approached him and used the shirt to create a crude tourniquet around the infected wrist.
Joe stared into Ryan’s eyes, his bitter expression saying, “I know what you’re doing. You’re willin
g to kill us all to try and protect Kyle. But you can’t. He’s as good as dead.”
Finished, they ran on, avoiding the main roads, avoiding a group they saw moving in the distance; zombies when possible, but slaying them with their machetes when necessary. Never using guns. The group was the perfect size, able to conceal themselves from the hoards, but also able to utilize manpower when needed. As he ran, Ryan wondered how long Kyle had left. The situation has to be dealt with, Ryan thought in a cool tone, mimicking how he thought Joe would word it. He didn’t know why he was becoming bitter towards Joe, who was right: Kyle had to be dealt with.
Time ran with them, and eventually they found a house to rest in at a small subdivision. The twins led the way over a picket fence to the small backyard of a white house with green trimming. Once all were over, they stood in a circle, staring at each other, heaving and gasping for oxygen. No one dared move forward, say a word, even twitch beyond their movements necessary for breathing in fear of igniting what was next.
“Just fucking do it already,” Kyle said. When no one moved, he stepped into the middle of the circle. “Come on you pussies! Do it! Before I become one of them. Come on, can’t you bitches finish me off?” He flailed his arms as he screamed, looking opposite of his typically composed self. Ryan knew that this was no longer Kyle speaking; he had probably never used such language in his life. He was trying to taunt them, to quicken the process so that they could move on safely. Ryan’s heart filled with pity and compassion at Kyle’s selfless act. Still, no one moved.
Kyle whirled towards Ryan, stepping towards him. “What? Are you gonna cry now? Afraid to murder me like you murdered your precious wife?”
What the hell? Ryan thought. Kyle continued to yell, but Ryan didn’t hear any of it. How does Kyle know about Deborah? How does he know what happened? His pity drained away. He wanted to hurt Kyle, to rip him apart. He must have begun to move forward, for Joe grabbed Ryan’s shoulder and pushed him back against the fence. Joe dashed towards Kyle, who waited without defense, and wrestled him to the ground. The machete was pulled from the pack. Ryan watched this happen while in motion, and just as Joe was bringing the blade down towards Kyle’s throat, Ryan kicked Joe away in the chest, and he fell away.