by M. Lorrox
The shock of the explosion in the barrel of his gun sends Bill backward into the corner of the open window. He hits the back of his head against the roof just above, knocking him out cold. He drops the remnants of the shotgun as he slumps over.
Joe and Jess are thrown backward, flailing inside the truck as blood seeps from the gash in Jess’s thigh and spurts from the wound in Joe’s chest. Sophia was looking through her scope when Bill’s barrel exploded, and she doesn’t fully realize what has happened. Joe recoils backward inside the truck, pressing up against Sophia’s butt and leg, throwing her off balance and pushing her out the window.
The road was about to curve right, and Craig just started to adjust the wheel when the explosions started to happen. The cab is instantly filled with debris and hot, white smoke that burns their lungs. Tomas was sitting just to the front of the row of shells, and after they blow up, he screams and grabs his eyes. He instinctively launches himself away from the explosion and lands backward in the front cab. Craig is startled, briefly blinded by the flash and smoke, and he chokes. He flinches and swerves hard to the right.
He hits against the other truck and pins Bill between them, crushing his ribs. A row of thick oak trees on the right side of the road encourages Roger to swerve away from them, and he smashes back into Craig’s truck. Sophia is jolted and tossed around, and she struggles to hold on to her rifle. As the trucks crunch together for the second time, Bill’s left shoulder lets out a -crack- as the bones break from the impact. His head bangs on Roger’s truck and leaves a small smudge of blood behind.
The road curves to the right. Roger’s compensation to the left was too much, the impact with Craig’s truck too strong, and now both trucks cross the shoulder and bound down the hill into the field below. At the bottom of the hill, Craig’s truck dips deep, and when the front corner makes contact, the front air bags inflate. Out of control, the truck tips and flips, rolling over and over.
Eddy is partway back inside the truck when it starts to roll. He drops the rifle and barely gets his arm inside before the ground presses the gun hard against his window, breaking the stock and deforming the door. Craig hits his head on the driver’s-side window and is knocked out, but he is held in place by his seat belt. As the truck tumbles, Bill is thrown clear of the wreckage, while Tomas and Eddy are tossed around inside. Tomas bangs his shoulder against the steering wheel and smashes his wrist between his hip and the center console. Eddy receives a blow to the face by the 45-70 rifle and lands hard on his back against the roof of the truck, and the wind gets knocked out of him. The truck finally comes to rest on its side, Eddy’s window against the ground, and Bill’s old window open to the night sky.
When Roger’s truck careens off the road a split second after Craig’s, he hits the brakes and pulls hard to the right to try and retain control. He avoids a hard, front impact, but instead puts the truck into a swift roll down the hill. Joe and Jess are tossed around in the backseat like rag dolls. Joe lands on the metal protruding from his chest; it impales him deeper and cuts to the side as his weight falls on the metal. It nicks the vein. He screams and holds his other arm out straight to try and protect the wound as they continue to roll. He lands hard on his stiffened arm, fracturing his wrist’s scaphoid bone along with his arm’s radius bone, but he protects his chest from further damage.
Jess gets inside the truck before being flattened underneath it as it rolls, but she doesn’t get the shotgun inside before it’s too late. As the truck rolls onto the barrel that was still sticking out the window, the stock slams into her leg and squeezes it against the inside of the door, breaking her femur before the truck rolls back off the gun and relieves the pressure. As they tumble, Joe’s flailing leg connects a foot to her face. It smashes her nose and unleashes a steady flow of blood from her nostrils.
Sophia never got the chance to get back in the truck. As soon as it started to roll, she dropped the rifle, climbed out, and launched herself away from the wreck. With her strength and her momentum, she lands far in front of the truck, but she lands awkwardly and sprains her ankle. Roger bangs his head on the ground as it comes swiftly to greet him through his open window. He had suffered a concussion during his accident in the military; when the lift crushed his leg, he had jolted upright so fast that he hit his head on the lift’s support beam. And now he gets another concussion. Instantly, his world goes dark. His Land Cruiser rolls a few more times before it ends up upside down, sitting on its roof.
Sophia stands, feels the weakness in her right ankle, and winces. She turns to look at the wreckage behind her. The trucks are about fifteen yards away from her and about twenty yards apart from each other. She can see her teammates through the open windows of the Land Cruiser. Roger hangs upside down, and Jess and Joe are both moving around in the backseat. She glances to Craig’s truck that rests on its side. She can see through the windshield that the airbags went off, but she doesn’t see any movement inside.
She looks beyond the trucks to the zombies. They pour off the road, down the hill, and into field. They’re still running, groaning, and biting toward the vehicles. They tear onward relentlessly.
Sophia looks down at her side, to the leather hip bag and her bowie knife. She rips the blade from its sheath and holds it in a reverse grip—for slashing. She clenches her teeth down hard and sprints on her wounded ankle. She adds more damage to it with every stride, but she doesn’t ease off—she pushes harder. The pain wells tears in her eyes that rip off her face as she runs as fast as she can straight toward the zombies.
“So, now what?” Skip looks at Charlie.
“I’ll grab my go-bag in case shit hits the fan. Sadie, what do you think, should we call the other parents?”
Sadie nods. “I’d want them to call us, so yes, we should.”
June lets her head drop. They’re all going to know I told on them.
Skip rubs the back of her neck. “Remember, sweetheart, you’re doing the right thing. You’re showing more care toward them than they showed to you.”
June throws her head back. “UGH! I told him I didn’t want him to go, that I had a bad feeling about it, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Charlie stands. “You told Eddy, right?”
“Yeah.”
He shakes his head. “He should have listened.” He walks out of the living room, thinking about his son. He’s got a lot to learn.
Sadie stands. “June, who else is with Eddy? Anyone besides the Kingston kids?”
“Tomas, and Jess and Joe’s cousins, and some other girl named Sophia.”
“Do you know Sophia’s last name?”
June shakes her head. “She’s from out of town. I think she’s traveling alone.”
“Okay. Thanks, June.” Sadie starts to walk out of the living room toward her office, but she stops and turns around. “Skip?”
“Yes?”
“You two should stick around. If you need anything, just holler. We’ll hear you.”
“Sure thing. Thanks.” Skip wasn’t planning on leaving anyway. He looks over at June, sees the anxiety hanging on to her face, and gives her a firm hug.
It takes Eddy a moment to come to his senses. He’s lying across the back windows of Craig’s Explorer, which rests on the driver’s side. Debris, bags, and gear are strewn all over the cab of the truck.
Holy shit. Shit, shit, shit. “Tomo! Are you alright?”
Tomas is lying on his back, against Craig. He has one leg in the backseat and one in the front. “Ugh…” He rubs his eyes; they’re very red. “Yeah, I think I’m…mostly okay. You?”
Eddy touches his leg where he felt the pain before. He doesn’t feel anything now. He touches his face; it stings and feels puffy. He realizes he can’t open his right eye all the way. “I’ll be fine.” He looks at Craig, who is slumped against the door, his head against the cracked window. “Is he…”
Tomas rights himself and winces as he puts weight on his injured wrist.
Eddy notices. “You sure you’re
okay?”
He shifts and pulls himself off of Craig using his other hand. “I’ll live.” He puts his fingers on Craig’s neck to check for a pulse. “He has a pulse.”
Eddy focuses and can see Craig’s chest rising with slow, shallow breaths. “He’s breathing. He must be unconscious.”
Tomas looks up at Eddy. “The others? Where are they?”
“I don’t know.”
Tomas swallows hard. “What about…the zombies?”
Shit! Eddy forgot that there was a huge horde of zombies chasing after them. He looks side to side, assessing the situation. The truck seems secure; the windshield and rear window are unbroken. He looks up and sees a square of sky through the window Bill had been thrown from. Jumping up, he grabs the edges of the door and pulls himself up, sticking his head out to look.
He sees the other truck, upside down with the windows open, the horde of zombies almost upon it, and Sophia charging toward them with her bowie knife. There’s no way she can fight them all.
Sophia screams out as she rushes toward the zombies.
What’s she doing? Is she crazy?
Eddy is frozen as he watches her. Should I fight? Or try and lure some away? They can’t catch me, but with so many, what good will that do? The other truck is completely unprotected. Think. What should I do?
What would Dad do?
In a flash, Eddy knows. He lets himself drop back into the truck. “Tomo, load the 45-70. I’m going out.” Eddy finds his backpack crammed in the corner the rear gate. There’s still half a bottle of in there, and he needs the blood.
As he grabs his bag, he feels that it’s wet. The bottle must have broke. Damn. He rubs the red liquid in his fingers and notices the bracelet Sophia gave him.
Tomas roots through the mess of gear and debris that’s strewn inside the truck until he finds the box of bullets for the 45-70. “Got it.” He starts to feed the cartridges into the magazine tube. “You’ve got five shots.”
Eddy brings his wrist to his mouth and bites down hard, smashing three of the beads between his teeth. The glass slices into his lips and gums, shooting white-hot pain through his face, but then the dehydrated blood hits his saliva. WHHOOOOAA… It soaks into the wounds in his mouth and is absorbed into his blood. He feels strong and fast and angry.
He pulls out his phone and holds it out to Tomas. “Call my dad. Tell him where we are and that I need help. Tell him I’m fighting a hundred zombies.” Eddy grabs the gun, and Tomas takes the phone. Eddy bends down, takes a deep breath, grunts, and jumps straight up through the window—landing on his feet on top of the truck.
Tomas stares up through the small opening for a few seconds in disbelief, then he frantically dials Eddy’s dad.
Charlie stands before the tall shelf in the garage. The katana, Ketsueki Seishin, stares a hole through him, teasing and tormenting him. The monk’s spade stands proud on the side. He reaches behind the swords and grabs his get out or go-bag. He tosses it on top of a workbench and opens it up.
His go-bag has some items that may seem odd to most people, like sunglasses and thick sunscreen, but it also has more typical necessities: rope, flashlights, knives, matches, gold coins—you know, money—and a flask of bourbon. He unscrews the flask and takes a long draw. “Ahh.” Okay, weapons, just in case.
He looks over to the corner by the door to the backyard. Eddy’s short sticks are leaned there, like usual. Charlie grabs them and looks at them. They’re made of rattan, which is palm wood, and similar to bamboo. These won’t cut it on zombie skulls; they’re not hard enough. Hmm… He sets them down and walks outside to the shed. Inside, he has some building supplies stacked up, including some concrete-reinforcing steel. “Gotta love a good re-rod.” He grabs a set of two, checks their length, then grabs another pair before he heads back in the house.
He places them all inside the bag, then hears his phone ring. He pulls it out and checks. It’s Eddy. He slides the little green phone icon to the right faster than the animation can move. “Where are you?”
“Mr. Costanza, it’s Tomas, w—”
“Where’s Eddy? Answer me.”
“He’s not here; he’s fighting the zombies. A hundred of them.”
A shiver runs through Charlie. A hundred? That’s… “Tomas, WHERE?”
“We crashed off the road.”
“WHERE?”
“Hyatt Creek Road. We’re trapped in the trucks.”
“Stay with the trucks. I’m coming.” He shakes his head as he hangs up.
Sadie heard part of the call and rushes downstairs to the kitchen. As she gets there, Charlie busts in from the garage and rips the fridge’s door open. “Charlie, what’s going on?”
He grabs the remnants of the fresh blood in the pitcher and sets it on the counter. “The kids are trapped. Eddy’s trying to be a hero.” He grabs a bottle and slams the fridge door shut. “They’re on Hyatt Creek Road. I’ll take the bike. Back me up in the Jeep?”
She nods.
He opens the bottle and starts to chug it.
Skip bounds into the kitchen. “Is Eddy alright?”
Charlie finishes the entire bottle, spilling some of the blood-infused drink down his chin. He sets the empty bottle down and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. “There was an accident, and Eddy’s fighting a lot of zombies. They need help.” He pours the remaining fresh blood from the pitcher into the newly emptied bottle and recaps it before tossing it into his go-bag. He zips it up and turns toward the garage. “Somebody get the gate for me.” He hits the first garage door button to open the bay door and throws the bag’s strap over his shoulder.
Sadie yells behind him, “Remember your helmet!”
Charlie sighs. Sure. Helmet. Fine.
He grabs his brain-bucket helmet and a pair of safety glasses, hops on the Harley, and starts it up. It growls deep and low. He tosses on his gear and walks the bike out through the open bay door behind the Jeep.
Sadie is in the doorway to the garage, and she hits the other garage door opener for the gate. “Be careful, Charlie!”
He nods and rips toward the gate as it opens. He squeezes through with an inch of clearance, and Sadie hits the button again to close the gate.
Inside, June has joined Skip in the kitchen.
Sadie looks at each of them in the eyes, and they look back with concern. She sees family. She knows she doesn’t need to ask for their help. “We need to get out there, and we need to call the other parents. Skip, start the Jeep and pull it out. I’ll grab Minnie.”
He nods and starts to turn toward the garage when he pauses. “Bring Minnie?”
Sadie is already bounding up the stairs. She hears Skip but doesn’t answer. Of course I’m bringing Minnie.
Joe bleeds badly with the metal shrapnel still protruding from his chest. The SUV is on its roof, so he rests on the ceiling. Jess’s right femur is broken, and she drags her leg behind her as she crawls to the front seat to check on Roger. He’s still unconscious.
She slides him from the seat and manages to pull him into the back of the truck along the ceiling. He’s very lucky; if the vehicle was right-side up, she’d have been unable to move him away from the open windows. He, Jess, and Joe are all the way in the back of the vehicle when the first zombies arrive.
So far, the zombies haven’t gotten down on the ground to try and crawl in, but they’ll figure it out soon enough—it’s only a matter of time. A half dozen zombies circle the SUV, bumping into it randomly, groaning and smelling the air in order to find their feast. The fumes and the leaking fuel from the wreckage mask the scent of blood and fresh meat from them.
Sophia charged into the fray like a ferocious animal and is now surrounded by zombies. She’s taken out a few and injured a few more with wild slashes of her knife. A couple times she’s felt the teeth of a zombie tear into her skin, and a couple times they were able to take a piece out of her. She makes a point to immediately execute any zombie that was “lucky” enough to get a taste.
She slashes at the throat of a tall zombie, but another one’s arm gets in the way. The force of her swing buries the knife deep into the other zombie’s arm, slicing through one of the bones in the forearm and sinking into the other. She pulls on the knife to free it, while the zombie, undeterred by the injury on its arm, opens its mouth and reaches for her face. She can smell its rotting flesh and its rotten breath as it groans in desperate hunger for her.
-BWRANG!- A bullet rips its head off; the shrapnel of its skull and brain flies in all directions—including all over Sophia. The bullet travels through the zombie and decimates the chest of another that was behind it. The 45-70 bullet removes so much muscle and flesh from its second victim that after the zombie falls to the ground, all it can do is flails its arms and legs in feeble attempts to stand.
Sophia pulls the knife out of the headless zombie’s arm, but not before the tall zombie she initially tried to decapitate is on her. It wraps its long arms around her, squeezing hard as it bites down into her shoulder. She screams, then eviscerates the zombie from the crotch up with the bowie. It falls, howling, down to its knees, the stabilizing muscles and tendons of the abs having been rendered in half. With a backhand, she strikes against the zombie’s temple, crushing it in and popping an eye out of its socket.
Another zombie on the ground grabs her leg and bites into her calf. Blood spurts, and she howls as the zombie tears its head away, ripping a piece of her leg out with brown, broken teeth. Sophia drops the knee to the ground as more zombies lurch in toward her.
-BWRANG!- Another bullet blazes past Sophia. This one rips through the jaw of a zombie that was about to tackle her from behind. She stands back up and slices into the neck of the next-closest zombie, cracking the spinal column with her blade. The zombie falls to the ground, paralyzed from the neck down, but still gnashing its teeth.