“That so?” Cole reached for his Glock under the mattress. “How far?”
“Don’t know for sure, but I’m thinking that we should…” Matt paused. “Ah, I think we should go out there and take care of them before they have the chance to find us.”
Cole knitted his brows.
“I mean, we have enough ammo to hold us up for a while. And, to be honest, I’d rather not run the gamut with this. What’ll happen if we get surrounded here? What if we lost this place?”
Cole shook his head and adjusted his hat, shifting his weight to his right foot.
“The way John sounded,” Matt continued, “I think they’re in trouble, too.”
“So you think we should just up and save the day?” Cole said. “After everything we went through yesterday?”
Matt took in a breath and exhaled slowly. “Something like that. In the worst case—”
“Sounds like our best option.” Cole patted Matt’s back as he stepped past him and into the hall.
Downstairs, Alex, Anna, and Kristin were in a conversation while flipping through static-filled channels on the flat screen. Once they saw Matt and Cole, they piped down. Mary strode in with two glasses of what had to be rum and Coke—her specialty—stopping in midstride at the sight of the two lifelong friends.
“What’s wrong?” she asked as they rushed down.
“We’ve got a group of deadheads coming our way,” Matt answered, grabbing for his coat on the bannister post.
“How do you know that?” asked.
“John.” He slid past her and made for the basement door.
“You mean that family you two met the other day?” Anna asked. Her face was stained red from hours’ worth of crying, but it was somewhat reassuring to know that she was still in the game. She sniffled and changed the station to another muted, snowy image.
“Yeah,” Cole answered after giving Mary a kiss on the cheek.
“Don’t they live a few blocks away?” Mary asked, meeting eyes with her boyfriend. Cole only stared back.
Matt wanted to say something, but chewed on his lip instead. Lately the twenty-six-year-old had been on edge, and the drinks did all but abate her anger. He found that silence, these days, sometimes said the most.
“As in,” Mary continued, “how the hell can they be sure those things are headed our way?” She set her drinks down on the center table and stood to face Cole with crossed arms.
Cole adjusted his hat and searched for a response.
“Maybe he’s just trying to lure you two out there to get killed so he can come here and take the rest of our supplies.” She reached for a cup and took a hefty sip.
“You aren’t serious, are you?” Cole said, raising his hands and voice. “Please tell me you’re joking, babe.” He waited for an answer, but received nothing but a cold glare. “Look, their grandkid’s handicap—”
“All the more reason for him to pull some stunt like that.” This time, Mary raised her voice.
“Will you both just calm down?” Matt pleaded, knowing that precious time was being wasted. “We don’t have much of a choice.” He noticed he’d just taken center stage; all eyes were on him now, and he winced.
“Yeah you do,” Mary said, looking between the two.
“Mary.” He looked to her. “Either way, we need to worry about what could happen if those things find their way to us. We’ve never seen one here, and I’d like to keep it that way—I think we all would. And I sincerely doubt John is even capable of doing such a thing as you’re suggesting.”
“Yeah?” Mary’s face flushed red. “Well since everything changed,” she said, slamming her cup down, “I’ve learned exactly what people are capable of.”
Matt winced again and looked up to some painting of a sloop on the wall behind Anna and Kristin; it seemed like he’d seen this very image a thousand times before the society collapsed. If he wasn’t mistaken, Cole’s parents’ had owned one just like it. He imagined being aboard the ship, standing with her crew, instead of having a friend, someone he’d known for years now send an arrow of words like that through his heart. His mind, again, drifted back to the dealership when he’d murdered Bruce in cold blood because the man ran from the face of hell and had gotten Shelley killed. His throat began burning. I didn’t want to kill him, he thought, gritting his teeth. I had to.
He thought Mary understood. Maybe it was the alcohol?
Kristin, Alex, and Anna all looked on expectantly, still unaware of Matt’s grievous actions that fateful day.
“Not only that,” Mary pointed at him, then Cole. “You two and Alex are the only ones who have ever met them. So, to me, going out of your way and risking your lives for them seems a little far-fetched.”
Alex opened his mouth, but quickly shut it.
“Well, I guess you have a point,” Matt said, calming himself. “But that doesn’t change the fact that, if we allow this supposed horde to pass us by, we run the chance of our position being compromised. Really, that’s what’s most important. But it wouldn’t hurt to have karma on our side.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “What makes you think that they’ll find us here and compromise our position?”
Matt glanced to the front door. “‘Cause I think it’s happening to John and his family now—at least that’s what it sounded like over the radio. I mean,” he shrugged, “what would we do if we lost this house?”
Mary had nothing to say; she stared at the ceiling with pursed lips, tapping her right foot on the hardwood floor.
“Look,” Matt continued. “John is a good man and provides for his family. Hell, the man’s taking care of his dead son’s impaired kid. Can’t that speak for itself?”
“No.” She met eyes with him. “Why do you even care? Remember what you said at the dealership, about those who risk the lives of others?”
I’ll kill them myself, he remembered saying.
“Baby,” Cole practically yelled. “We’re going, and that’s that. I’d rather kill them before they get a chance to kill us. We have a head start, and we’re taking it. End. Of. Discussion.”
“Whatever.” Mary stormed by Matt and went down to the basement.
“That went well,” Matt said as the sounds of Mary’s footfalls receded below.
Cole shook his head.
The others remained silent, trying to not intrude on the moment.
The basement door flew open and bounced off the wall a minute later, and Mary stalked up with a rifle slung around her back and the Mossberg .12-gauge in her right hand. She offered the guns and said, “You two wanna go out there and play heroes? Fine. Go and get yourselves killed for someone who wouldn’t do the same for you!”
“Mary—”
“No, Matt.” She shook her head. “Just go. Make sure you bring each other back, or don’t come back at all.”
***
“Where did they all come from?” Dana said as she stared out into the front yard.
John didn’t have an answer. Since his last transmission to Matt, numerous zombies had flooded onto their property. To him, it was as if those things could smell living fear, and flesh. Some were close enough that he and Dana could hear the moans and the scraping of disjointed footfalls. He wondered how long it would be until he could smell them.
Behind him, Dana asked Tommy, “Are you hungry?”
John turned to look at the remaining members of his family. The eight-year-old boy grew excited, drawing out moans similar to those of the dead, shaking almost uncontrollably as Dana pulled a sandwich from the cooler. John smiled, thinking of times better than this. Back when his family was whole.
“How long do you think we’ll have to stay down here?” Dana asked while dropping a straw into a freshly opened bottle of water. She positioned it in front of the boy’s face until he grabbed it. “Don’t forget to wash it down, honey.”
“I guess,” John stole another glance at the front yard, “until they’ve left.”
“Do you think they know we’re h
ere?”
This was the very question he’d been asking himself since making the decision to vacate the upper floors. The best answer John could come up with was one he didn’t like. He wanted to lie to Dana, but she’d know. They’d been married for too long for John to even try such a thing. “I sure hope they don’t,” was all he could manage.
“Hopefully they’re just excited,” Dana offered. “It’ll be nighttime soon. Maybe they’ll find something else to hold their attention.”
John ran a shaky hand through his hair, already feeling warm moisture from the stress. With each minute’s passing, another zombie crept into view; it was mind-numbing.
“We’ll survive this,” he reassured himself. John eyed one of the sacks of potatoes he’d purchased when the infection had reached the east coast, walked over, and pulled one free. He retrieved his pocketknife from his breast pocket.
Taking a seat on one of his workbenches, he stared at his toolbox across the room. Inside were a revolver and a box of ammunition. “We’ll survive this,” he repeated under his breath.
***
The sun was well into its descent as the van crept to the edge of the driveway. Before leaving, Matt and Cole had taken more weaponry than the rifle and shotgun Mary had offered. They’d each brought their pistols and swords, even a pair of backup pistols. Ammunition, binoculars, water, and one of the radios were stored in a single backpack in the bin.
The one thing lurking in the back of Matt’s mind was the leviathan they’d encountered back at the gas station yesterday—the thing that had managed to toss cars around like a toddler playing with toys. If they were to come across one of those again, everything could well be for naught. He shook the thought away and brought his focus to the street. A few creepers came shambling into view from behind an abandoned SUV. Right on cue, Matt thought, grateful for John’s warning.
Cole handed him the Savage .22.
“I don’t wanna spend all night out here watching you miss these things,” Cole said.
“Just watch your side.” Matt grabbed the rifle. With his free hand, he performed quick sweep with his flashlight and was relieved to see no hidden zombie waiting for him with wide, dead eyes and clattering teeth eager to sink into his flesh. Matt rolled down his window, positioned himself so the barrel rested on the window frame and peered into the scope while breathing as steadily as possible. The crosshairs lined on the first target: a policewoman with a nasty neck wound. Exhaling, he squeezed the trigger, watching her drop lifelessly.
“Nice shot,” Cole said.
Matt focused on an obese man whose exposed gut was teeming with sores and leaky, open wounds. “Aren’t you an ugly son of a bitch?” Aiming for the man’s right eye, he fired. A small hole formed on the dead man’s pale cheek. The creeper grimaced, but moved forward as if nothing happened. His next shot found its mark just above the fat man’s left eye.
“You done already?” Cole said facetiously.
“One more left,” Matt answered, training his sights on a shirtless, somewhat-in-shape man missing most of his scalp. The bullet hit in the center of the forehead, but the creeper shambled forward a few steps before tripping over the policewoman’s motionless corpse. The way the front of the man’s skull caved in and released gooey bits brain and blood along the street forced Matt’s eyes away from the scope. He knew the bullet couldn’t have done all the damage; the fall must have been something to hear.
He handed the rifle back to Cole, who cleared the chamber, released the magazine and began reloading.
“Three out of four ain’t bad, huh?” Matt said, dropping the van into drive.
Cole looked to him with a grin. “You still wasted a shot.”
“Kick rocks, man.” He hit the gas and turned left. With a jerk and screech, the van’s rear tires flung gravel until catching traction.
No activity had been seen for about a quarter-mile’s distance, but then they started coming out of the woodwork. Creepers emerged from yards, side streets, cul-de-sacs. Most of them lumbered on shaky legs; others were moving at a paced, staggering walk. One in particular caught Matt’s attention. A man with half of his bloody shirt torn and hanging to his side reached with its one good arm from the drainage ditch a few yards ahead; the other appendage hung by thin strands of muscle and tissue. It attempted to pull itself out and managed to completely sever the damaged arm for its efforts. Matt grinned as he turned the wheel and felt the bounce as the creeper’s head was crushed beneath the front wheel.
“Gotcha,” Matt said, and continued down the street.
Taking a right, he immediately slammed the brakes. “Holy. Shit,” he said as the profiles of numerous zombies came into view. He turned to Cole. “I think we found our horde.”
“Yeah,” Cole agreed with widened eyes, “and I say we take them out now.”
“How? There are so many—”
“You drive, I shoot, right?”
Matt shrugged.
“Well, I’ve got an idea.”
Cole moved to the back of the van and returned with some rope they’d obtained on one of their earlier raids.
“You gonna lasso them?” Matt asked.
“Just stop for a minute and you’ll see.”
The sky had grown a shade darker. They had an hour of daylight left, probably less. The streetlights had come on a few minutes back, and now Matt could see even more shadowed figures approaching in the distance.
Cole opened the door and hopped out. He took the rifle, loaded with the mag he’d just topped off and five spares and set them on the roof. “Keep an eye out,” he said, placing both pistols at the small of his back. Cole took the rope and cut two short pieces with his sword.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m gonna snipe them from the roof,” Cole answered simply, pulling out his waterproof facemask from his back pocket and slipping it on.
“Huh?”
“You’ll see. When I tap the roof, start driving.” He looked out to the horde and then back to Matt. “I ain’t trying to die tonight, so drive slow, man. Real slow. Like my life depends on it slow.”
“You’re the boss.”
“Goddamn right.” Cole shut the door and climbed onto the roof. He tied the pieces of rope to the ladder racks so he would have something close by with which to steady himself in case Matt had to gun it. Then he positioned himself on his stomach and took aim, keeping the extra magazines in his front right pocket. Each held ten rounds, and with the rifle already loaded and the five in the pocket, he had more than enough to do the job.
The first creeper came into his sights at least forty yards away. He fired, aiming a little above the shambling zombie’s forehead, compensating for the distance. Its head shot back like it had been used as a baseball. First homerun of the night, he thought, focusing on the next targets. Two more shuffled to the left, and they dropped with two well-placed headshots.
The idea that shooting had come so naturally to him was funny. He’d never fired anything but a shotgun before all this, and now here he was, landing shots that would have had amateur marksmen creaming their pants.
Three more creepers fell into view of the scope, and he dispatched them with three consecutive shots, admiring the beauty of their collapsing bodies. Cole used the remaining shots to extinguish four roaming creepers in the yard on his right. He replaced the spent mag and tapped the roof after chambering a round.
The van crept forward slowly until more came into sight. A creeper was negotiating with a ditch to the left, three made their way toward the vehicle in a yard just behind this one, and four popped out of a small wooded patch of land off to the right. In the distance, on the road ahead, two runners treaded ground with preternatural speed, materializing out of nowhere.
Matt stopped the van.
Cole took out the four to the left and focused on the runners. His first two shots missed. The next two, however, sent the sprinting zombies sprawling on their backs. He turned to the group on the right and brough
t the first one into his crosshairs. More approached in the background.
This was going to be one fun ride, but time was not on their side. The sky had darkened considerably since they’d left just minutes ago.
CHAPTER 6
The sound of breaking glass shattered the momentary silence.
“What the hell was that?” Dana shrieked.
Tommy fidgeted, going from one nightmare to the next. Dana gave him a kiss on the forehead and whispered reassuring words. He still grew excited, eyes flickering from one side of the ceiling to the other.
“Calm down, sweetie,” Dana said, looking to John for help.
“That came from the back door.” John’s voice was full of disbelief, though he knew deep down that this was an inevitable outcome. This was the hand that God had dealt them. God had taken their son and his wife, leaving the aging couple with their now-handicapped grandson. And now He was going to take what remained too, just as He’d taken the rest of the world.
You’re not getting us without a fight, John thought. He had never been a pushover, and this instance would be no different.
“They got inside,” Dana gasped as more movement sounded from above.
John couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement. What he did know was that it was a fact.
Tommy moaned, moving in spastic jerks and nearly tipping his wheelchair over until Dana caught it. She gave him a hug, but it did little to calm the boy.
“It’ll be okay, Tommy,” John said as he tossed the peeled potato to the side. “Nana and I will keep them from you.” He walked over and kissed them both, patting their shoulders.
A booming thump came from above, and everyone flinched.
John stole another glance out the window. The milling shadows were monstrous in quantity and size.
“What are we gonna do?” Dana asked, her eyes rimming with tears.
“Don’t worry, darlin’. I won’t let them get to us, I promise.” John knew that would probably be the last and most painful promise he’d break, but he did his best to hold a confident expression. He walked over to the toolbox, removed his revolver and the ammunition, and made for the elevator with a thought, no, a strategy brewing.
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