by A. M. Geever
“Yo-yo zombie,” she said under her breath. “Now I’ve seen everything.”
Kendall had been pretty freaked out when they first saw the zombie, but he kept it together with both Rich and Alec reassuring him. Even without the zombie’s appearance, they were almost at time anyway. She was glad that they’d decided to kill rather than leave it, because she’d seen a few more farther up the mountainside. Those zombies would never catch up, but if they started moaning…
When she was twenty yards from the others, she saw movement to her right—to the north of Rich, Alec, and Kendall. She stopped, shading her eyes.
“Shit,” she said softly.
A small clutch of zombies, about ten, were fifteen yards from the guys and getting closer. She scanned the area quickly, frowning. The wind ruffled the strands of hair that had pulled free of her nubbin of ponytail. That’s why they hadn’t heard them; the southerly wind carried any noise the clutch was making away from them. With zombies above and now these, there might be a lot more. They’d been planning to turn back, but now it was urgent, driven by need rather than time.
Even so, she was only concerned, not alarmed. There was plenty of time to give them the slip. Rather than whistle, she waved her arms over her head. When she had their attention, she whirled her hand in a circle—turn around—then pointed. They turned around. Now ten yards from the zombies, she saw the posture of each become more alert, like an electric current had been applied to their bodies.
Then Kendall bolted.
“Kendall,” Rich cried, while Alec shouted, “Stop!”
“Goddammit,” she hissed, taking off after him.
Kendall hadn’t just panicked and taken off—he was going the wrong way, angling down the slope of Mount Hood northwest. Away from them, and the bunker.
“Kendall! Stop!” Rich shouted.
Miranda’s feet pounded the ground, sticks hidden by leaves and moss breaking and rolling under her feet. She raised her arm to shield her face from whips of underbrush that lashed her. Blood rushed in her ears, her heavy breath pounding in and out in a steady rhythm.
Kendall had caught them unprepared, so his head start was sizable. But Miranda could see Rich was gaining on him.
Alec’s shout boomed like a thunderclap. “Stop! Now!”
Kendall screamed.
“No,” Miranda gasped, still pelting to her friends, for she’d seen what Alec had.
Zombies were staggering up the mountain toward Kendall. They were so brown and gray that they blended in perfectly, only their movement giving them away. He’d either been too panicked, or had seen them too late, but he’d almost run right into them. He jerked to a halt too quickly, lost his balance, and fell on his ass. He scrabbled backward like a crab. Rich poured on the speed, leaping over downed logs and rocks. He just had to reach Kendall, and then he’d be safe.
Alec had stopped, which was the only thing he could do. Unlike she and Rich, he didn’t repel zombies. Rich dove, tackling Kendall as he tried to get up. There were zombies everywhere and they needed to leave, but now Rich’s repellant effect would keep them both safe. Miranda reached Alec and stopped, so she could protect him. They were close enough now that she could hear Kendall’s panicked jabbering. Hisses and moans that the breeze wasn’t strong enough to blow away filled the air. Rich hauled Kendall to his feet by his jacket collar. Kendall screamed as the nearest zombie closed in, just three feet away. Rich turned Kendall around, giving him a sharp shove between his shoulder blades, then smacked at the closest zombie to move it out of the way.
The zombie didn’t stop.
The gasp of horror sounded distant, but she felt the inhalation fill her lungs. Miranda watched for a moment, disbelief rooting her feet. The zombie grabbed Rich’s hand and pulled instead of moving away from him. Rich reared back, trying to yank away, his startled yelp carried away by the breeze.
“Get Kendall,” she shouted to Alec, already running to Rich. She crashed through brambles, branches and uneven footing, darting around trees and tripping over rocks. Rich had pulled his knife as he teetered, his footing unsteady. Rotting corpses floundered toward him. The sharp steel flashed, disappearing into the zombie’s eye. It collapsed. Rich tripped back a few steps, over a log, landing awkwardly on his arm and shoulder.
Miranda reached him and grabbed his collar, caught a flash of blue when he snapped his head back to the new threat.
“It’s me,” she said.
The sharp, harsh scent of his adrenaline-drenched sweat filled her sinuses. The lead zombie was so close she could see into the triangular hole of exposed bone, no longer hidden by a nose. It was the only part of its face not hidden under filthy, matted hair.
Rich grunted, scrabbling his feet against the ground. She felt the lift from his legs pushing up as she dragged him to his feet. A blow from behind shoved her into Rich. She fell to the ground, and Rich slipped from her hands. Whatever had hit her pushed off her back with two hands. Had Alec come over? The rank stench of rot filled her nose. She saw the zombie when it stepped over her. It wasn’t attacking, like the ones after Rich, but it wasn’t staying away from her, either.
She lurched to her feet, Rich only steps away. She just had to reach him, throw herself over him; she could still save him. She charged the zombie and caught it by the shoulder when Rich screamed. She pushed the zombie aside. His anguished cry rolled up the mountainside. Liquid and terrible, a gush of red caught her eye. Another grunt from behind her—a zombie. A surge of energy fueled by panic made her nerve endings convulse. The last zombie had crawled over her, but what if this one didn’t?
A hand clamped on her shoulder. An arm snaked around her waist. Miranda thrashed, punching over her shoulder at the zombie that clutched her. It yanked her back so hard that she lost her balance. Her heels scraped in the dirt as she screamed. Her knife was gone, jarred from her hand. More zombies closed in, would reach her any moment. I’m going to die, she thought wildly, knowing it was true, yet unable to comprehend that this was really happening.
“It’s me! Quit fighting,” Alec said, his breath hot against her ear.
“What?”
“Now, lass!”
He paused, just long enough to help her right herself. Rich was on the ground, still screaming, still bleeding, still trying to fight. Zombies swarmed him like flies, biting and clawing, ripping his protective clothes from his body. The reanimated corpses shoved between and squirmed over those in their way.
“No!”
Then a sylph-like form, a small woman or child once, slipped past two others wresting to get closer and bit into Rich’s throat. His screams morphed into strangled gurgles. Blood gushed from his neck, streaking his skin. Pink foam bubbled at his mouth.
“Miranda,” Alec yelled at her, dragging her along. “There’s nay ya can do for him!”
He turned her around and shoved her in front of him, away from Rich. She felt disengaged from her body. Her feet and legs did the work of their own accord—jumping over rocks, steering her around trees, trying to choose the surest footing they could.
“Are ya right?”
Alec’s voice, low and urgent but controlled, snagged her attention, sharp as a metal hook. She concentrated on it, felt her senses sharpen.
She looked over to him, saw the danger they were in reflected in his hazel eyes. “Yeah,” she said. “They aren’t staying away.”
“Kendall’s just there,” he said, pointing. “They’re all over the fucking place.”
A slumped form leaned against a tree. They skidded to a halt next to Kendall’s lanky, limp frame. His head lolled back and forth, and his brown eyes were unfocused.
Miranda said, “What happened?”
“I punched him.” Alec caught Kendall under one arm, then looked to Miranda. “Help me.”
She looked at Alec, trying to pull Kendall to his feet. Kendall had panicked, not listened. If he’d only listened they’d be on their way to the bunker—all of them. Instead, Rich lay dead, the flash of his b
lue eyes branded on Miranda’s brain.
Her mouth curled in a sneer. “Leave him.”
The grunts of the zombies feasting on Rich were so loud. She shook her head, but they filled her ears. From every direction, the moans and grunts and hisses filled the air. Zombies tripped and stumbled and tottered closer, and Miranda felt the thin veneer of her lost protection sloughing from her body. When they reached her, they wouldn’t shy away. They’d yo-yo like the one she’d killed only minutes ago, or brush past her. Then again, maybe they wouldn’t. Her repellant ability was in its death throes. It probably had been for a while. She just hadn’t known it.
Alec’s eyes drilled into her, demanding that she understand. “What if we don’t make it back in time to use our codes? What if Phineas can’t open the doors? D'ya remember Kendall saying Phineas would still be able to after two hours, because I don’t. We need him.”
She wanted to leave him, to flee in a way she hadn’t in months, knowing she might be unable to protect the people with her, but Alec was right. Who knew what happened at the end of two hours that Kendall hadn’t bothered to tell them? She’d been shocked that he’d made it possible for them to get back inside on their own. He was so fearful of the outside world, terrified that he might lose the abundance he had. He’d spent his life amassing incomprehensible wealth, using it to insulate and protect himself—even from a threat that no one could have predicted—but all it had done was fill his mind with scarcity and want.
That leaving him to die would be a mortal sin, almost murder, was a concept too abstract to make sense, but Alec’s words got through to her. They might need Kendall to get inside the bunker.
Miranda took him by the other arm, and together with Alec, hauled the babbling Kendall to his feet. She pulled his arm over her shoulders, taking some of his weight.
“We’ve got to go, Kendall,” Alec said, tugging him along. “There’s a good lad. That’s it.”
Kendall mumbled unintelligible as they pulled his staggering form with them.
“They’re ahead of us,” Alec said, pointing east with the tip of his knife.
Ten zombies, maybe more, tripped and swayed, moving in and out of sight between the tall trees. After all this time outdoors, if they had any clothes they hung in tatters. Most of the clothing was a washed-out gray or tan, some colorless; still others were naked, but they all blended into the browns and grays and greens of the forest. It was the movement that caught her eye more than the forms. The zombies pitched over, then got up—bumping off trees, each other, but always toward them. The horde behind them was more agitated, the grunts and snarls as they fought over Rich’s body rising and falling.
Kendall was almost no help, barely lifting his feet, which caught on rocks and sticks. A flicker in the corner of her eye turned her head. The zombies that had been farther up the mountainside when she’d gone to kill that first one were now within fifty yards. She jerked to a halt when Kendall’s boot tangled on a rock.
“How hard did you punch him?”
“Three times. He wasn’t stopping.” Alec looked behind them and almost tripped. “We can’t go on like this. Help me get him over my shoulder.”
Alec handed her his knife. He crouched down, and Miranda maneuvered Kendall onto his shoulder for a fireman carry. He grunted as he stood, wincing, even with the hand up she gave him.
“You okay?” she asked, giving him her machete. With Kendall over his shoulder, he needed a weapon with a longer reach.
He nodded. She flipped the snap on her holster and pulled her sidearm. Its weight in her hand felt reassuring, a measure of power restored after the abrupt loss of her invisible shield. Every zombie in a square mile knew they were here. Silence was no longer a priority. She wasn’t even sure if they were going true east, but they didn’t have time to check a compass. The boulder ahead she recognized, offering some reassurance.
“To the right,” she said, as they closed in on two zombies ahead. A form lurched out from a tree as Alec passed. She darted around him, barreling into the zombie’s back with her shoulder. Its rib cage depressed under the force of her shove. The damn thing didn’t even fall down, but swayed on rubberlike legs. She shoved it aside, felling it this time, and leaped away.
“More ahead,” Alec said, sounding breathless. Then he added, warning in his voice, “Mind your step!”
She swerved around him, and the earth fell away, a four-foot drop interrupting the path, hidden until she was almost on top of it. She was going too fast to stop, or to get back to Alec’s other side, where the path was wide enough. She jumped over the gap, the jolt as she stumbled onto the earth in front of Alec ricocheting through her joints. Alec slammed into her, he and Kendall falling in a tumble. She wriggled away while Alec pulled himself free of her. When he stood, he gasped. Doubling over, his hand went to his back.
“What is it?” she cried, for he was clearly hurt.
“Nothing. Help me lift him,” he said, crouching to pick up Kendall.
Of the zombies behind, two staggered along the path, only feet away. Three zombies blocked the way, and the trees were too thick to go around. She grabbed Kendall by the hips, lifting him when Alec nodded. He gasped as he stood, pain flashing across his face.
She whirled around. The first zombie ahead of them was just feet away. Maybe it had been a lithe man once, but half of its face had been gnawed to the bone. Its scalp looked like a mango with the peel pulled back, but leached of vibrant color. Thin strips of flesh that looked like leather flapped when it turned its head. Teeth without lips snapped as it lunged, the reek hitting her like a kick to the face. She barely got her hand up in time to catch its shoulder. She stabbed into the shadow of its empty eye socket, then pushed it backward, into the one behind it. She landed a forward kick in the last upright zombie’s stomach, sending it over the drop-off she’d just jumped over.
Alec barely made it past the downed zombies. Whatever injury he’d suffered, it was serious. She caught up with him, her breath coming hard but steady. The only thing louder was the zombies pursuing them, but she recognized their surroundings. They were almost to the bunker.
“Do you know where we are?” Alec asked, his voice harsh from exertion. “I’m turned about.”
“It’s just up there,” she said, catching sight of the bowl-shaped depression and the lintel over the bunker’s blast door. Relief energized her. She could run all day now that she’d seen that door. Zombies still closed in, but they would make it. She checked her watch: ten minutes to spare. Their codes would still work.
She flashed Alec a grin of relief, underpinned by the kind of fear she hadn’t felt in a while. His eyes narrowed, pain pinching their corners, his face drained of color. The hard line of his mouth looked like a scar.
“Are you okay?”
He didn’t answer.
Kendall was awake but still looked dazed. They raced down the slope of the bowl in the hillside, screeching to a halt under the linteled stoop. Alec dumped him like a sack of potatoes, grimacing while he reached for his gun.
“Get the door. I’ll cover,” Alec panted.
Miranda jammed her gun in its holster. She unzipped the to-the-elbow zipper on the sleeve of her leather jacket, then pushed both the jacket and shirt sleeve up. The codes were a little smeared, but legible.
“What happened?” she heard Kendall mumble.
She punched the keypad, the amber numbers lighting up the squares of the display.
“What the hell, guys?” Phineas’ voice squawked over the speakers. “What the fuck is going on?”
Miranda entered the last number. Nothing happened. She compared the numbers to what was on her arm. They matched. She checked her watch—seven minutes.
Alec backed up beside her, still looking out to the forest. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s not working!”
She jabbed at the keypad again, trying not to panic. The groans and hisses of the zombies grew louder.
“Phineas,” Alec shouted. “Open the
door.”
She didn’t stop entering the code. Again, it didn’t work.
Phineas sounded frantic through the speakers. “I’m trying! It says my code isn’t valid!”
“Let me try,” Alec said.
She pulled her handgun and looked to the forest. The closest zombies were forty feet away. She crossed to where Kendall still sat, bleary-eyed and out of it, in five steps.
She crouched in front of him. “Kendall! You need to open the door.”
“What?” he said, confused.
“Mine’s not working either,” said Alec.
“Kendall,” Miranda said again, but his eyes looked unfocused. She slapped him—hard. “You need to open the door right now.”
“The door?” he said, looking at her with more ‘there’ in his eyes.
She flinched at the sharp report of Alec’s gun. The zombies were thirty feet and closing. And behind them, from all sides, up and down the slope of the mountain, more staggered through the trees, their moans a haunting soundtrack.
“The bunker door, Kendall!” She hauled him to his feet, shoving him to the keypad. “You need to get us in the bunker right now or we’re going to die!”
Alec fired again and again. He was taking longer shots than she would, but then she saw a zombie trip over the one he’d just shot. It fell flat on its face, lay still for a second, then slowly pushed up to hands and knees. He was trying to slow them down with more obstacles, even if just for a moment.
Phineas’ voice shouted through the speakers. Miranda grabbed Kendall by his jacket and shook him.
“Open the fucking door, Kendall! Open it now!”
Kendall’s brown eyes focused. Finally, the peril they were in clicked. He stooped, tapping the keypad so quickly she could barely follow his fingers. This time, when the last number was pressed, it was followed by a deep, pneumatic hiss. The door finally opened, and they scrambled inside.