by J. Thorn
Close call, but better a busted knee cap then a conversion to Zombie-ism. And King had managed to save me from both.
Harrison was right behind him, taking out the two stragglers with even, well-aimed shots.
Once every threat was eliminated, I dropped back to the bloody ground and closed my eyes in thanksgiving. Too many close calls today. Forget all the Zombies, I was going to die of a heart attack.
“Thank you,” I said sincerely in a hoarse, trembling voice.
“Thank you,” Harrison countered. “That’s all we had left.” He tossed his empty gun into the pile of Zombies. “We would have been toast if you hadn’t showed up.”
“I am saying the same thing,” I smiled darkly. “Page Ok?”
“She will be,” King nodded.
The sounds of gun fire had stopped behind us and I glanced back to make sure we were all
present and accounted for. Now, in the early morning light I could make out all four forms making their way back to us.
“Did we survive?” Harrison asked, taking in the same sight of his brothers and Haley returning to us.
“Looks like it,” I confirmed.
Harrison held out his hand to me and I reached for it, ignoring the slippery feeling of blood coating my own. He helped me to my feet and then put a supportive arm under mine when I wobbled.
I breathed in another sigh of relief when I could hear Haley’s voice. She was relaxed, or as relaxed as anyone could be after fright night in Zombie-ville.
She was safe. And alive.
My throat immediately closed with emotion. Surviving was everything, but how many more of these close encounters of the third kind could we go through before someone didn’t make it out alive- before I didn’t make it out alive.
The Universe apparently didn’t think it was much longer because around the side of the house came a crazed, raging Feeder sprinting for the three of us. He was quiet in his approach- which was disturbing- but more than that he was more insane than any of the others. It wasn’t in his movements, that were surprisingly human, and it wasn’t in his behavior. It was his expression. The look on his face was pure evil. His eyes were bright red, and one side of his jaw had been completely ripped away, leaving only, remnants of shredded skin, bright crimson tendon and gnashing teeth. A deep gouge dented one side of his head and he was missing an entire ear.
But he was determined. Dead set on me and the boys.
I didn’t have time to think, to react, he would be on us in a seconds and I had no weapon to protect us. I reached for guns and knives, but there was nothing there. I didn’t have anything.
Harrison leapt in front of me in an effort to protect, even while I knew he didn’t have any weapons either. King raised his gun and fired. The bullet ripped through the freight train of a Zombie’s neck, splattering a stream of blood from the entry and exit hole. Other than a jerk of his head though, he didn’t show any sign of pain or slowing down.
King continued to fire, but his gun was empty now. Only the clicking sounds of an empty chamber broke up the heavy panting from the running Zombie.
There were directions I should have been giving, or goodbyes I should be uttering, something should be coming out of my mouth- even a terrified scream at this point. But I was so shocked by the rogue Feeder and our inability to protect ourselves I was more than frozen to the spot. I was paralyzed.
The Zombie reached us, leaping into the air to tackle one or all of us, I had no idea. I cringed in anticipation, finally having enough common sense to push both King and Harrison out of the way. With as much force as I could manage I put each of my hands on their shoulders and shoved them as hard as I could in opposite directions.
Three gun shots fired from over my shoulder, directly in my ear. Immediately I lost the ability to hear. Every sound was replaced with a lonely high pitched ringing. From the silence of my own head I watched as a long, muscled forearm rested over my shoulder. Following that forearm up to a pointed, smoking gun and then to the Zombie who was wrenched back by the impact of the bullets I felt like everything happened in slow motion.
The Zombie crumpled into a puddle of his own blood now lifeless and empty.
I felt my mouth drop open in shock, felt my body begin to tremble and shake from the trauma of the night. Still I felt detached from my body. I felt like a spectator in my own life. How much more of this could I go through? How much more could I handle before I lost my mind?
Slowly my hearing came back to me, first fuzzy and dizzying, then full force. But there was nothing to hear. My hearing returned and met only shocked silence.
Finally, after several tense moments, Hendrix growled out, “Reagan-“
“Don’t say it,” I breathed through a shaking voice. I turned around and wrapped my arms
around his neck. He was right there, arms clutching my waist before I’d even fully turned.
He buried his face against my neck and breathed me in, nuzzling his nose against my dirty, sticky skin. I did the same to him, inhaling him, relishing in the feel of his body and how alive he was.
“What did you think I was going to say?” he asked in a rough whisper.
“You were going to tell me to ‘come here.’ But, I’m already here, Hendrix,” I answered through a muffled voice. A lone tear snaked down my cheek and then dripped off my chin onto his t-shirt.
“You are already here, aren’t you?” His voice was thick and filled with possession. He gripped me tighter, pulling me against his hard body.
More tears spilled from my eyes, I couldn’t stop them now. I had been strong and as unemotional as possible over the last two years. But I couldn’t be that way anymore. Part of me had maintained my tough exterior because I had to, because there wasn’t a single safe place for me to retreat to, for me to become vulnerable in. But with Hendrix’s arms wrapped securely around me I finally found that safe place, the place that made it Ok for me to cry, for me to grieve.
I sobbed against Hendrix, open and raw. This life wasn’t fair, this existence not acceptable. But it was all that was left and I had no choice but to survive through it. Still, it didn’t make all this gore and difficulty easy.
In fact, this was very, very hard.
“Don’t cry, Reagan,” Hendrix ordered, wincing against my neck. “We made it. Everyone’s alright. We’re going to be alright.”
I only cried harder at his words; ugly, sobbing, sniffling tears that streaked across my dirty face and drenched Hendrix’s t-shirt. He pressed me against him, tightening his arms so tight I felt every inch of his body as we wrapped up in each other.
“We made it, yeah?” He asked in a barely audible whisper. He was afraid, terrified for me and I wanted to reassure him, but I couldn’t. I was a mess right now. “Reagan,” he asked in a more determined voice. “We made it.”
I nodded into his neck and found the courage to speak. “We made it.”
“And we’re going to be alright,” he prompted.
“We’re going to be alright.” I echoed.
“Look at me,” he demanded, full of his usual confidence again. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. But you have to stay with me.”
I shook my head, “Your siblings-“
“Don’t,” he cut me off, his blue eyes piercing straight through me. “I don’t mean that. I am grateful for what you did for them. I mean everything else. You stay with me.”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I didn’t know exactly what he was asking. I just threw myself back against his body and clung to his neck. I felt a chuckle vibrate through him and he gave me one more comforting squeeze.
“Reagan, you’re going to kill me, you know that?” he sounded amused, even while his lips danced over my skin. “Good thing I’m used to near death experiences.”
“I don’t know what that means,” I sighed dryly, finally feeling like myself again.
“Of course you don’t,” he laughed. “Come on, now that your breakdown is over, you definitely need a sho
wer.”
“A shower sounds amazing,” I groaned, pulling away from him.
“Just remember you promised to let me wash your body,” he said seriously, reaching for my hand.
“Um, I think we said hair,” I corrected, ignoring the jolt of something delicious heating my body.
“Mmm, I’m pretty sure we said body,” he grinned down at me and then pulled me over to the rest of the group that had been patiently giving us space.
“I’m pretty sure we said hair,” I argued. “And that’s if you’re lucky.”
“It’s not about luck, Reagan. It’s about something so much more necessary than luck.”
“And what’s that?” I asked in a tiny whisper.
“Guess we’ll find out soon enough.” But he definitely sounded like he already knew.
Chapter Four
We walked for hours that morning. We were filthy and still bloody from last night’s battle, and exhausted since nobody got more than maybe an hour of sleep. Other than the few disinfectant wipes I had to share, we weren’t able to clean up at all and all of us were too nervous to try to find a river or creek. We just wanted to find some kind of shelter.
We stayed along the highway, like usual, but the topic of venturing toward a town had been raised. We couldn’t continue much further in our condition. We only had a few guns with ammo and not enough food to keep us full. We could all use a bath- desperately use a bath- and it would be nice to find out more about the Zombies in this area.
Over the past two years, Haley and I had been able to pick up rumors about other parts of the world. Not everything we heard could be believed, but we had a system of finding out what was considered widespread knowledge and what was some weary traveler’s paranoid suspicions. Usually, if we heard a rumor in more than one place and from more than one kind of person- like an old man, a middle aged woman and a teenager- we started to believe that everyone generally believed it as truth. Now, this didn’t necessarily mean we believed it just because everybody else did. But our system had become a way for us to get the local and worldwide news, so to speak.
One thing we had heard over and over again was that Mexico and everywhere south of America had a stronger breed of Zombies. In fact, so much stronger that they organized themselves into armies and were successfully taking over South America. This was one of those rumors that everybody believed, but we didn’t know what to make of it.
The Zombies we had run into thus far had all been mindless with the need to eat and crazed to feed their brains-addiction. They had been relatively easy to kill, especially if they were by themselves. Obviously a horde of them posed a different set of issues, but if you got one good enough in the head, they flailed, they stopped trying to bite you, and they died. Easy.
There had been enough examples of smarter-thinking Zombies in the last two and a half weeks for me to start believing all the South America rumors. In the last two years, I had never heard of Zombies organizing themselves like the time before we met Gary, or last night. I had never heard of a Zombie picking up a weapon or trying to physically subdue their prey before they attacked, like last night when Hendrix was used for batting practice. These were not good signs.
This meant a Zombie army could exist. It meant they were capable of rational thinking- of planning and organizing.
Of meeting us on a battlefield and winning.
And that sucked.
Now it was more important than ever to get some kind of transportation and find more weapons.
Easy, right?
“Vaughan, we have got to find a place to stop,” Nelson groaned. It was mid-morning and we were all wearing the cranky effects of exhaustion. “Reagan reeks! For real, I can’t take it anymore.”
“Shut up, asshole!” I shoved him in the back.
“Cuss jar,” Page demanded.
“Page, he said I smelled!” I huffed, annoyed that I slipped up in front of her. This was the end of the world, not a pirate ship. I didn’t want her thinking every girl cursed like a sailor- just the bloody, gore covered, no-sleep, out of ammo ones. Ok, and a lot more too, but she was only eight.
“Reagan,” she tsked, sounding so much older than her few years. “You do smell!”
“Traitors,” I grumbled. “You are all traitors.”
“There,” Haley pointed in the distance. “What’s that over there?”
We followed her finger and saw a trailer park a ways away. It was nestled next to a cross highway and had a big sign proclaiming “The Grove- Comfortable Mobile Homes and Trailers.”
“The Grove,” I mumbled, reading the sign. “What do you think Vaughan?”
“I think it’s empty, has running water, plenty of food and toilet paper,” he answered confidently.
I was shocked, more so by his willingness to lie to everyone now than anything else. “Really?”
“Really,” he repeated.
“Are you joking?” I demanded. I kind of hated how I questioned him on everything, but he wasn’t my big brother, I didn’t have to take his word as Gospel. Plus, I secretly believed he liked the challenge.
“No, I’m not joking, but our other options are a Zombie-infested hell hole, or worse, people. I have neither the strength nor energy to deal with either. So I’m trying to stay positive. Plus, you really do smell. We have to clean you up or someone is going to accidentally shoot you and I can’t afford the wasted bullet right now.”
Yeesh. I’d never heard Vaughan so disparaging before. I wondered if he was just tired and cranky or if something else was going on.
“Please, nobody shoot me,” I begged dryly. “The trailer park it is.”
They were already walking in that direction though. Apparently my vote didn’t count for much.
We stomped through fields of tall weeds and thick grass, still wet from last night’s storms. We didn’t speak on our walk over and everything else was quiet- the whole world was quiet. There was no traffic on the highway, no doors opening or closing in the distance, there were no birds flying overhead or insects buzzing around the plants and flowers. Everything was just silent except for our shoes stepping through the tall grass.
We walked along a fence that wrapped around the property until finally we came to the front entrance. This park had at one time been well taken care of and maintained. Now, trash was littered everywhere, along with discarded pieces of furniture, dishes and clothing. Several structures were caved in, either by animals, Zombies or the elements. And there was more than one car visible under tented car ports or parked in driveways.
We moved past an administration office of sorts and into the park proper. Narrow driveways led up to double wide trailers that used to have owners that took pride in their homes. Now each place had fallen into disrepair or been vandalized. Windows were smashed, front doors hung off hinges and more than one home sported enormous holes in the siding.
Vaughan kept us moving toward the back the park, hoping for less chaos probably. Looters and vandals weren’t picky with what they took or destroyed, but often times they were lazy. They only went after what was easy, what was accessible. The back of the park threatened more danger, but it wasn’t like we weren’t used to fighting for our right to party. If last night was any indication of what we were willing to put up with for a dry place to stay and a decent night’s sleep….
Although we got neither.
“We’re not staying the night here, obviously.” Vaughan’s voice was barely above a whisper. “But maybe we can at least clean up and restock some of our supplies.”
“So, just…. pick one?” Hendrix asked, his voice louder and more confident.
Vaughan sighed but nodded. “Yeah, just pick one. Stay in pairs. I’ll take King and Harrison. Nelson go with Haley. Hendrix stay with Reagan. Page, you can choose your group.”
“With us!” Haley volunteered immediately. I suppressed my smile. “Page, come with us. We’ll search for fun stuff.” Haley grinned wickedly at her. Nelson stared after in outraged disbelief.
“Really?” he demanded.
“I have a shopping list,” she hissed quietly. “You won’t let me get anything done if we’re alone.”
“Exactly!”
“What’s on your shopping list?” Page asked innocently.
“Toys,” Haley replied.
“Oooh, what kind of toys?” Page asked, delighted with her group.
“A doll for you,” Haley replied slowly. “And lots of goodies for me.”
“You know, even in the Apocalypse I hate shopping with girls,” Nelson grumbled but followed after Haley in search of toys- which I took as code for tampons. Boys just had no idea how hard it was to be a girl.
Hendrix and I turned away from Vaughan and the younger brothers and went in search of our own shopping lists. This was like a neighborhood scavenger hunt, only not nearly as exciting and instead of winning a prize, you just got to not die.
It was odd splitting up like this, but this place was definitely low key. There were no lurkers, hiding in the shadows, or even wild animals poised for attack. The entire place felt acutely empty and we took advantage of that.
Besides, I had Hendrix, the one man killing machine and what was left of his guns and ammo to protect me. That was enough to make me feel safe.
“We should get you cleaned up first,” he stated- definitely not a suggestion.
“Which one feels right?” I smirked up at him.
“Now we’re hippies?” He looked down at me, amusement flashing in his deep blue eyes.
“Not hippies,” I corrected. “Gamblers. Which one feels lucky?”
“You’ve been talking a lot about luck lately,” he sounded entertained by that. “Maybe you’re the one feeling lucky?”
“Definitely,” I quickly agreed. “I’ve had Feeders at my throat more than once today. Yet here I am. Someone’s on my side. And it might not be luck, but I can’t help but feel a little bit lucky and a lot blessed.”
“Plus there’s me?” He led the way up a set of latticed stairs and kicked open a door to a relatively unscathed tan trailer.