It looked up.
Pick Your Battles
Lavender knew it had seen them. It opened its mouth to let out a noise akin to a long, drawn out sob. She felt her flesh rise in response. Next to her, Carson tensed.
“Run,” he said, his voice surprisingly firm.
“Yes, run!” Lavender agreed. She spun round, Carson already a step or two ahead of her. He stopped dead, Lavender crashing into him as she cast a glance over her shoulder to assess the approach of this new zombie.
“What the hell Carson? Run!” She urged, stepping around him to lead the way.
They were there; the two ambling zombies that Lavender had planned to ambush. They were so close she could smell the stench of their fetid breath. On one of them she could see maggots writhing and squirming in a rotten space that had once been an ear. Fighting panic, she checked for the tell-tale gleam in their eyes that would show they were Thinkers. They weren’t; their long dead pupils dull and glazed. Thank heavens for small mercies, she told herself ironically.
Another groan from behind, coupled with a note so low and ululating it could have been part of a refrain monks might sing in a cathedral. Her stomach turned at the sound; it found a place deep within her psyche so primeval and raw that it almost brought her to her knees there and then.
“Shit!” Carson said, seemingly fully alert to the situation. She had that to thank her lucky stars for. He hefted the lump hammer the way she had seen him wield so many weapons; with a confident, easy menace that said he knew exactly how to use it. She held the hatchet at her side, loose, relaxed; ready to swing.
Lavender had time to wonder what Drums was playing at, why he hadn’t shouted a warning. She would ask him later, if she could.
“Now what?” she said aloud, not expecting Carson to answer her.
“These two first, and fast,” Carson said, “That one later. Now!”
The words were barely out of his mouth when he swung; stepping into the taller zombie’s reach, against all the remembered advice of Mad Gasher. Lavender winced, expecting the blow to miss, and was instead rewarded with the satisfying sound of metal meeting rotting flesh. It struck the zombie dead centre of its chest, Carson just stepping out of reach in time to escape the swipe of the zombie’s hand. It rocked backwards, the skin stretched tight across the bone splitting, oozing watery green pus. Carson raised the lump hammer again.
Lavender didn’t witness what happened next. She had a fight of her own on her hands.
It was as if the zombie had woken from a stupor. One moment it was drooling vacantly in front of her, the next it was animated, making for Lavender in a rush of groans and searching hands. Lavender stepped back, wishing she had room to hurl the hatchet again, but the creature was too close to allow for throwing. She ducked as zombie arms came around in a circle, threatening to trap her within. She dodged sideways, hoping it would fall flat on its face, as unbalanced as it was. It didn’t; it simply spun on the spot and came after her again.
Running wasn’t an option. To do so would mean abandoning Carson, because it was inevitable the zombie currently attacking Lavender would turn its attentions to him instead if she fled the scene, leaving him with two undead to deal with.
And then there was the fast approaching, third undead to consider.
Desperate, Lavender dropped low as the zombie came at her a second time, waiting until the last possible minute before sinking to her knees. The zombie made another double-handed swipe, this time almost toppling in the process. Lavender used that to her advantage, rising fast with the hatchet leading, sinking it deep into the zombie’s abdomen. She gritted her teeth and forced the tool upwards, using all her strength to raise the zombie off its feet.
They stood there for a heartbeat, a grotesque statue: Lavender small and struggling beneath the absurd sight of a zombie doubled over her, limbs flailing. Nails raked the back of her thighs. Before the zombie could get a decent hold, Lavender found an extra surge of strength and sent it hurtling overhead, to land in a crumpled pile behind her. She heard bones snapping, knowing it wouldn’t be enough to stop it rising; and realised that for a second time that day, she had left the hatchet, Joel’s hatchet, buried in the body of a zombie.
Panting with exertion, she risked a glance at Carson, just in time to see the lump hammer connect with the back of the leering zombie skull. It caved on impact, the zombie coming to an immediate and complete standstill. Like a tree felled, it keeled over, lifeless, if it had been alive in any real sense in the first place. Carson looked round at her, his expression one of grim satisfaction. Then she saw it change, a hardness appearing in his eyes.
“Duck!” he ordered. Lavender obeyed unquestioningly, once more sinking to her knees as the lump hammer swung through the space where her head had just been. She heard the meaty thump of flesh, felt the air move behind her. When she stood to look, she saw Carson had taken out the broken form of the woman-zombie she had felled as it had approached her from behind; its face ruptured beyond repair from the force of the blow. It fell, as dead as the other, nothing more a pile of misshapen, blackened bones protruding at unnatural angles.
“Jesus!” Lavender breathed, then saw there was not time to gather her breath: the third zombie had reached them.
It didn’t even stop to step around the fallen bodies of its erstwhile companions; it simply stepped upon them, trampling them underfoot as if unaware they were there. It slipped fractionally in a pool of tainted blood yet held its footing and kept coming. More than ever, Lavender felt nakedly vulnerable with no weapon to hand.
Despite this zombie’s useless and dangling left arm, barely hanging on due to the sizeable chunk missing from its shoulder, there was something more menacing about this undead. It wasn’t a Thinker, that much Lavender was grateful for; but it had an aggression about it the other two had lacked, in spite of their viciousness.
Lavender had no choice but to back off a pace or two, to give Carson room to fight. She looked around frantically for a weapon, finding nothing. She saw that Carson had backed up a pace too, to give himself an arm’s length with which to swing.
She saw the heavy lump hammer describe yet another wide arc in the air. She saw the look of intent in Carson’s face. She also saw the hammer slip from his grasp at the peak of the arc, to go winging harmlessly past the approaching zombie’s face, the creature giving no acknowledgment that it had even seen it.
The lump hammer smacked heavily to the ground, well out of reach. The zombie kept coming, and now Lavender and Carson were both unarmed.
Lavender tugged the back of Carson’s jumper furiously. “Run!” she shouted urgently.
They ran. The zombie followed.
*
They had no choice but to run forwards, trapped as they were between the rows of containers like rats in a tunnel. They were corralled, the only escape being a left or right turn at the end of the row, if they made it that far.
Lavender remembered the others had weapons. She began to scream for their help as she ran, pointless now to remain quiet for fear of alerting zombies.
A break in the row loomed up ahead. Lavender veered left, Carson hard on her heels. She saw her mistake almost as soon as she had made it, though it was too late to do anything about it with the zombie so close.
They had come out onto the jetty, nothing but the foaming, bitterly cold sea ahead.
Still Waters
Lavender remembered from past experience that zombies wouldn’t enter the water; but there was no question of diving in to escape. The sea was cold enough to kill if they stayed in it long enough. The far shore, even the beach, was too far to swim and that was presuming they survived the shock of jumping in in the first place. They were trapped.
They stopped at the furthest edge, even the slightest misstep likely to land them in the water anyway. They turned to face the zombie, the lop-sided leer on its gory face like a smile of glee at their predicament. Lavender reached up to squeeze Carso
n’s shoulder one last time. She had done well to survive this long, she knew. So had Carson, given his deteriorating state of mind. If they had to go, at least they would go together.
The zombie lumbered forwards, gaining speed as it scented their flesh up close. There was a flash of movement behind it, a voice cried out “Move!” and instinctively, Lavender shoved Carson hard sideways, throwing herself the other way, creating a gap between them. The zombie suddenly took on an even greater speed, propelled from behind as both Corcoran and Drums barrelled it forwards hard and fast to the water’s edge. Understanding their intention, Lavender stuck out her foot. The zombie tripped stupidly, falling headfirst into the bitter water. There was nothing in its demeanour to suggest it recognised its fate; its arms did not flail, it did not fight to keep upright. It simply fell into the waves with a dead-weight flump, leaving barely a splash in its wake.
They looked on, Lavender from her prone position, expecting the thing to rise from the waves and reach for her. Other than a few bubbles of air that must have been trapped in its shredded clothing, there was no further sign of it. The waves simply closed above it, claiming it for its own.
Lavender sat up, her mind racing, her feelings in turmoil. The boys had saved them; the boys. No sign of Joel.
She stood upright on trembling legs, “Thanks,” she said, knowing how trite it sounded considering what they had done for her. She looked at Carson, checking for signs of distress. He looked simply bewildered, staring down at the water where the zombie had fallen in, a distant look in his eye.
“Where’s Joel?”
She tried to sound casual. It suddenly occurred to her that some harm may have come to the man; she found she would not be heartbroken if it had.
Corcoran shrugged, “He went looking for you, just like we did when we heard you screaming,”
“But I thought you were supposed to be look-out?” she said to Drums, accusingly.
The boys exchanged a look, “If I was, you’d be dead meat by now,” the boy said.
“Touché,” Lavender conceded, “but even so,” she shrugged, “Do you think Joel’s okay?”
“Oh, he’s always ok,” Corcoran said, “He’s probably back at the container, wondering what’s taking us so long,”
Lavender’s eyes widened. If the man was safely under cover while they were all out here risking their lives, then she would sure as hell have something to say about it. The boys shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.
Hard on the heels of that thought came another, “Any ideas how our visitors got in?” she asked.
“We haven’t had time to check the gate out,” Drums said drily, “We’ve all been a little preoccupied,”
Lavender assessed the boy. There was a half-smile playing about his lips, his words spoken in a tongue-in-cheek fashion. He wasn’t being a smart-arse, she decided. There was no malice in him; he was just a kid. Besides, he was right.
She smiled in return, “Fair enough. How about we go and look now?” She eyed the weapons the boys were still holding, “You’re armed should we meet any surprises along the way. What do you say?”
Again, the shared look, the uncertainty on their faces.
“What is it boys?” Lavender asked, trying to keep her irritation out of her voice, “What’s the problem here?”
“No problem,” Corcoran said, shaking his head, “It’s just, well, Joel doesn’t much like us taking orders from strangers,”
“It wasn’t an order! It was a suggestion. If you don’t want to come then don’t, I’ll do it myself. Just hand me one of those weapons and you two get back to the container,”
“We wouldn’t do that!” Drums exclaimed, “We wouldn’t leave you on your own!”
“Why not? I’ve got by just fine on my own this far,”
Corcoran’s eyes flicked to Drums, who refused to meet his gaze, staring steadfastly at his feet. The feeling that there was something else going on in the little group intensified. Lavender was reminded suddenly why she had deliberately steered clear of people all this time. She and Carson had clearly outstayed their welcome. Lavender was more than ready to move on.
“Look, I think Carson and I will be on our way,” she said, “If you could just let me have one of those weapons, we’ll be out of your hair in no time,”
“If you want to go then we can’t stop you, but I can’t just give you one of these,” Drums said.
“You’re so concerned for my safety you don’t want to let me check the gate out alone, but you’re happy to let me move on without a weapon?”
“It’s not that, it’s Joel. He’ll go mad if I just give his stuff away,”
“His stuff? I thought you were all in it together?” She watched the boys’ growing discomfort with interest, “Just how did you end up with him anyway?” she asked, curious.
“He’s a youth leader,” Corcoran answered for her, “We were at a youth event when we first saw infected. They came bursting into the recreation room. The place was packed because we were holding a meeting about a charity event to raise money for a week’s camping in the summer. God, it all seems so trivial now. Anyway, Joel got us out, but only just. There were a few others, but they’re all gone now,” his voice trailed away to nothing. Drums took over where he left off.
“He’s looked after us ever since; kept us warm, fed, under cover. He says there needs to be one person in charge, that way we stay disciplined. Important, when you could be fighting off zombies at any given moment,”
Lavender nodded, considering, “If discipline is so important to Joel, how come you didn’t climb up onto those containers and act as look out like I said?”
Drums sighed, his shoulders sagging in defeat. His answer was at first so mumbled, Lavender had to ask him to repeat himself.
“It wasn’t Joel who gave that order,”
“He didn’t object, did he?”
“No, but…”
“But what?”
“But after you had gone, he told me not to do it,”
*
Lavender was torn. Part of her wanted to confront Joel, ask him what his problem was. The other, greater part of her, decided against it. There was no point making an enemy of the man; they had taken a dislike to one another on sight and things had gone downhill from there. On the other hand, darkness was beginning to fall and the yard had proved to be less secure than she had hoped. Reaching a decision, she reacted to Drums’ words with nothing more than a shrug.
“Whatever, we’re not sticking around anyway,” she said, “Whoever or whatever found a way into this place is your problem, not ours, so no need for me to worry about checking the gate either; I’ll leave that up to you. Come on Carson,” she said, reaching back behind her to encourage him to follow.
“We could always swim,” Carson said, a note of delight in his voice.
Lavender turned to him in dismay, shaking her head in disbelief, “What?
“Swim! We could swim!” Carson said, sweeping his arms wide, gesturing the spot where the zombie had entered the water, “He did it! He went in!”
Carson strode to the jetty’s edge, pulling his shirt off over his head. Horrified, Lavender suddenly understood his intention. He was already fumbling with the button on his jeans when she got to him and grabbed his wrist, desperate to stop him.
“What the…?” Corcoran stammered, his face pale in the encroaching gloom. Beside him Drums looked on, incredulous.
Lavender ignored them, “Not now Carson! We can’t go swimming now, it’s too cold,” She tried to reason with him as she would a child.
“It’s not too cold!” Carson said grinning, shaking her off, “It’s fine!”
“But it’s getting dark!” Lavender pleaded, all at once certain that she would not be able to stop this, that Carson was about to meet his death here on this jetty after all.
“I can see fine,” Carson laughed, unzipping his flies and making to step out of his jeans.
; “Wouldn’t you rather eat?” Drums intervened, his voice light and unchallenging. Carson turned to look at him, “You must be hungry, right? Why not save your swim for tomorrow? Why don’t you just put your clothes back on and come with me? I’ve got something nice for us to eat; something hot and tasty,”
The boy sounded convincing, but Lavender didn’t much care if what he was saying was true or not; Carson seemed to be responding.
“Hot food?” he asked quizzically, his face suddenly full of doubt. He looked down at his jeans, as if surprised to find them around his knees. Lavender drew closer, leaned down to help him pull them up. He didn’t resist at first, he just stood there, helpless and let her do it.
A flash of light shot across Lavender’s field of vision. Her ears rang, her head buzzing. She was aware she was on her knees, her palms stinging where she had flung her hands out instinctively to break her fall. It was only when her head cleared a little and the ringing subsided that she understood Carson had hit her again. She raised a tentative hand to her face, pulling it back to look for blood. There was none, though her left eye throbbed and pulsed and her upper lip felt swollen.
She sensed movement behind her and tensed, expecting another blow. She cringed when a figure leaned over her, but it was a gentle hand that took hers and helped her to her feet. Unsteady and humiliated, she looked up into Corcoran’s concerned eyes. He held her steady and she was glad of it, a wave of giddiness washing over her.
“You okay?” the boy asked.
Lavender nodded, lying. She was anything but okay, but she knew it would do no good to say so. Tactfully, she freed herself of the boy’s grip, dreading finding Carson in the water after all, gasping for breath and drowning, out of reach.
Instead, she saw the retreating backs of Carson and Drums as they headed once more into the corral of container stacks. Drums had evidently succeeded in talking him out of a dip in the ocean with the promise of a hot meal.
Even from behind, Carson was obviously the older man; yet it was Drums who had a hand on Carson’s shoulder, offering reassurance and comfort, guiding him back to safety. Lavender felt tears prick her eyes and she turned away, wiping her face gingerly with the back of her hand.
Mindless Trilogy (Book 3): Brutal Truths Page 4