It went down and I ran to the house, whirling around to brace myself for the thing to come again.
I spotted a shovel near the porch and my feet carried me to it. The wrench fell to the grass almost silently and I whipped the shovel up, spade-end first.
The farmbie came again, drawing its bearings and finding me too easily. I swung the shovel and smacked it in the face. It didn't even cry out as it tumbled to the ground.
I brought the spade down and cut through its neck, the wet splotchy sound as its blood poured out, hideous. I couldn't stop, though. I bore it down again, slashing through the same spot and the bones in the neck creaked. I dug at it like I was going for worms on a summer night, slamming my foot into the spade and getting it through the rest of the way.
The head rolled slightly as the arms and legs flailed but it came at me no more.
The fluttering noise of the limbs moving on the dirt were the only things I could hear. Not even night insects called out, silent in this strange apocalypse.
I eventually found a hose, but by that time, I decided to check the trucks in the drive, instead. The bigger one had a full tank of gas and keys in the visor.
Glancing at what remained of the farmer, I tried to start the thing. It was old, but it fired up to life instantly.
Instead of trying to siphon the gasoline off and transfer it to the van, I pulled what goodies I had left from it and jumped into the truck.
I didn't look back as I turned my new majestic steed south once more.
12
Mobile was a disaster.
I made it all the way through the zombie-infested, plague-ridden small towns and highways to make it to the one place I remembered everyone calling out as safe. I even sent people there myself, and there was nothing but more devastation waiting for me.
Did I send them to their death?
I drove through town, the wrench I picked up on the passenger seat of the old truck, nearly out of gas again and pissed off. Where was the government? Where were the survivors? There should have been the damn Army mowing these things down as they came, but all I could see were demons and corpses.
I gripped the wheel, wishing I could do something more, but I was starving, dry, and beyond tired. I was damned. I had come all the way to the one thing I knew was safe and it was all for nothing.
But if I was going to go out, I would take a few of the devils along with me for company on the path to hell.
I gunned the gas, barely glancing at the gauge as it sucked closer to the ever-larger E, the last stand of a knight and his trusty mount a clarion call that would echo through the ages of whatever civilization came after ours.
One after another, zombies fell before me, my front grill and windshield plastered with gobbets of flesh as I tore them asunder. Oh, it was glorious, those moments of time. My sight dimmed, tunneling in on the next target, and there was no dearth of them.
A loud crack resounded, and a zombie I was heading for bucked backward and landed with a spray of gore coming from its head.
I glanced in the rearview and saw a second truck, bigger even than my own, barreling down the the four-lane street. I took my eyes off of it for a moment to steer again and, when I looked back once more, I saw the head of an older woman sticking out of the driver's side. Her arm was out as well, and she aimed a large pistol at another zombie not far away, heading toward her.
Crack
The shot echoed from the buildings and the creature dropped to the ground in a heap.
A burst of speed from her truck brought her next to mine and I caught her motion with her hand, beckoning for me to follow.
I slowed slightly to let her pass safely by and fell in behind her as she whirled through town.
I kept my grip on the wheel, wondering at the skill of the woman, the pistol coming out once in a while to take down another zombie. I swear, even with the distance between us and the roar of the engines, I could hear her cackling laughter with each one she tagged.
The scent of the decay around us began to fade, replaced by a cleaner, salt-tinged air, and within what seemed only a few minutes, we pulled to a stop at a dirty beach.
Boats were in the distance, sheltering at port. Some were small, but there were a few large ones I was surprised could fit among the others.
I hopped out of my truck as she edged from her own, a smile on my face despite how serious of a situation we were in. Just seeing another human being, someone alive and breathing with no interest in making me a meal, was enough to send my insides soaring.
"Thank you," I said as she came near.
"Hey, don't thank me yet," she replied, her voice strong despite her age. "Still got to get you safe."
Pop, crack.
I whirled and saw two bodies flying back, runnels of red coming from their foreheads.
"Name's Thelma," she said, holding the gun up and ready without extending a hand.
"I'm John. John Taylor." The smile was still plastered to my face. "I'm so glad to see you."
"Wait, you the guy on the radio?" she asked, her eyebrows raising. "Your name's familiar."
I nodded. "Yeah, I used to be."
She finally returned a grin. "Well damn, son. You've helped a lot of folks find their way to us."
A small boat dislodged from one of the larger ones out on the water, and even from the distance I could see at least a few people on it. I hoped they were armed, because the approaching wave of zombies crossing the roads was already loud over the sound of the waves.
"I have?" I asked, surprised that she would have a clue of who I was. "I promise I can still be some good..."
She laughed. "Oh, we'll make sure of it, son. Giving hope to the hopeless is a big job."
I winced as a blast from her gun took down another beast from the pit, and couldn't resist clapping my hands at her skill.
I might have once been John the Revelator calling out the warnings of the apocalypse, but I wanted to do more.
I was determined to help give the world a second chance at getting things right.
THE END
Hi, everyone! Thanks so much for reading John, the next story in the “Tales of Courage From Beyond the Apocalypse” collection!
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Check out these other stories in the collection “Tales of Courage From Beyond The Apocalypse”!
Robin
Thelma
Roger
Keiko
Amy
Kayla
Tanisha
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[Tessa E1]daylight did what? I think you're missing a word here.
[Open Eyes2]Missed a space
Tales of Courage From Beyond The Apocalypse (Book 8): John Page 4