The possibility of a new, Old West-style law becoming real again was interesting, but I wasn’t about to go for their “deal.” Not that the guy was lying, I just couldn’t afford to trust that the rest of his group shared his sense of justice. Hopefully that, and what happened next, doesn’t make me the bad guy.
Two men swung out from cover and entered the barn, one with a handgun scanning the right side and the other aiming high with a rifle. That was my target, as these men had both been trained in some way, but the rifle was more of a danger. On an exhale, I squeezed the trigger and let the Henry speak, causing the man with the rifle’s head to jerk as his body was thrown backward. The other man shifted and opened fire, backpedaling toward the door as I cocked the lever and took aim. Another breath, another squeeze, and the second man dropped to the ground just two feet from the door.
“Dammit! We’re gonna come in there and drag you out screaming!”
“Feel free to come on in, then, but the next person through that door won’t be going home with you!” That threat would make them think for a minute before coming in, which was exactly the distraction I needed to escape.
I withdrew from cover, slinging the Henry over my shoulder, and climbed through the back of the roof. Thankful for the gloves and still wishing I had some damn boots, I cautiously walked down to the lip of the overhang. It was still a good drop, and I had planned to slide my legs off before dropping, but the group came in the barn and opened fire on my previous location, which meant my time was up.
I jumped and braced my knees, landing in a roll and, for the first time, being glad for the soft snow below. Now I just had to get to my truck and get the hell out of here.
I counted to five, hopefully letting more enemies funnel into the barn, before moving across the open to the corner of the house. No yelling ensued, so no one must have noticed. The corner behind me burst and splintered as several bullets impacted the house in response. I rolled my eyes, knowing I jinxed myself, but I was in this now.
Waiting for a gap in their shots, I crouched and edged around the corner with the Henry and fired, catching a woman in the leg. I snapped the lever out and back, racking another round into the chamber. I shifted my aim quickly and shot the man nearest to her, hitting him in the throat, before kicking with my front foot and sending myself back into cover just as corner exploded, showering me in sawdust.
I could hear the man choking on his own blood as he struggled to breathe, but I didn’t have time to question the morality of my situation as I jogged around to the back of the house. If they were smart, they would attempt to flank around and I couldn’t allow that to happen. Turning the corner to the opposite side of the house, I almost ran into the first of three people coming toward me. Panic filled his green eyes and I could see the sweat on his brow, but the men behind him were lifting their handguns.
Without hesitation, I immediately whipped up the barrel of the rifle and fired at point-blank, blasting the man into the other two. The grounded men didn’t have a chance to bring up their weapons as I cocked the lever and fired, repeating the action. The three men lay dead, but the look of fear in the first man’s eyes told me these were no soldiers.
Was I doing the right thing? What if they were peaceful and I fired the first shot, disrupting their attempt at starting over? There were fewer people than zombies left in the United States, and I was currently lowering that number even further.
Two more men swung around the front of the house and I froze. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing, and in all my years, I had never had a problem pulling the trigger. Instead, I backpedaled three steps and dove behind the house, a bullet tagging my backpack.
“Come on, snap the hell out of this, Eric!” I grunted to myself, smacking the barrel of the Henry against my head. This was the worst time for a moral crisis, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was related to the recent hallucinations.
“So this is what it takes for you to feel guilty?” I glanced up at Samantha, leaning against the house with one leg propped up. “You would think that not being there for me and your son would have affected you more than killing some random strangers.”
“You can’t be here, Samantha. You’re dead.”
“Oh, I know. You’re the one that did it, remember?” I exhaled slowly, her remark hitting me like a punch in the gut.
“Of course I remember, Samantha. There are a million things I wish I could go back and do differently, believe me. But I can’t change the past. Do you realize how badly I wish I could be holding my son? How much I wish I had you here, just to have some company?” She looked down at me, her eyes full of false pity.
“Oh, Eric, of course you’re alone. Don’t you see? It’s all your fault. Me, Phillip, Anthony, even Katherine leaving you to die.”
“Kat didn’t leave me to die, I just have to find her. I need to find them.”
“Any part of you that was good is gone, Eric. It’s why you feel guilty, why you kill people, why you’re alone. You’ve become a monster, and there’s no turning back now.”
“I refuse to accept that. Now, get out of my head!” I stood up and cocked the Henry, needing to get out of there. I wheeled around the house and took out the first person I saw, the bullet hitting her in the collarbone. I took off at a dead sprint, my adrenaline fueled by anger, and reached the passenger side of the truck as rounds kicked up snow and pinged off the metal.
Climbing inside, I kept my head tucked low as I shoved the keys in the ignition and threw the vehicle in reverse. The driver-side window was blown out and showered me in glass, but I kept driving backward down the path. I felt a trickle of blood down the side of my head, probably from a cut by the projectile glass, but didn’t check as I reached the end of the drive and turned the wheel hard to the left.
I finally looked up through the windshield, put the truck in drive, and slammed the gas pedal down, hoping to get a good start on the three jeeps I could see barreling after me. The two trucks remained stationary, left alongside the bodies of their group.
Making it to an intersection and recalling the image of the map, I hooked a left and drove for the highway. The nearest city was Cincinnati, and while a big city was not on my list of good ideas, it would allow me to lose them with the tight turns.
I just had to make it there, which was a problem.
About twenty minutes later, my truck was gaining speed and I had some good distance on the jeeps in my rearview, but I had neglected to remember one important detail. Despite landing the jackpot with weaponry, I didn’t find any gas to fuel my car chase. This caused some urgency in my driving, but I flashed by the sign welcoming me into Cincinnati, so that was at least one good thing.
You know what wasn’t a good thing? The fact that about two minutes later, with the jeeps closing on me and armed men wanting my head on a pike, the engine sputtered and my truck began to stall. Still on the highway, I had nowhere to go and, since they didn’t know I was coming to a stop, the nearest jeep rear-ended me.
My truck skidded on the snow and I tried to turn into the spin, just as the second jeep smashed into my side and sent my truck careening into the concrete blockade. The airbag deployed just as my head snapped forward, and I lifted my head to figure out why I wasn’t falling. The back bumper of my truck had crashed through the concrete, but I had otherwise remained on the highway. Knowing my luck couldn’t possibly be that good, I looked to my left and braced myself for impact.
The third jeep, being that third-time charm, rammed me off the edge. My head was stuffed into the airbag by g-forces as my truck fell fifteen feet to the street below. The back end landed first, which would have been good had my head not snapped back like a rubber chicken and caused my world to go black.
Chapter 66
My head jerked back when I woke, my survival instincts still going crazy. The motion brought a wave of nausea to my stomach and a definite pain in my neck, but luckily nothing was broken. Everything felt slow and m
y head spun, but I knew I needed to move. I wasn’t sure where the off-ramp was, but the men would arrive any moment riding in on their metal horses.
Wow, I must have hit my head pretty hard.
I reached down to my hip and pulled out my knife, bringing it up and stabbing the airbag. Feeling a little less claustrophobic, I glanced around and realized I was sideways, with the asphalt blocking my left view. Talk about a blind spot.
Undoing my seat belt, I slid against the door and heard the broken glass shuffle under my jacket. I grabbed the steering wheel and pulled, reaching a sitting position and letting my head clear before attempting to stand. It wasn’t my best decision, because I felt dizzy almost immediately, but I braced myself against the passenger seat and let it pass.
Regaining my sense of balance took some time, which was too long, but I was eventually able to blink without seeing stars. Using the web of cracks that spread across the windshield, I braced myself against the seats and kicked against the glass. It gave on the second kick, completely crashing out of the frame after a third. I reached down and pushed it aside, climbing out of the wreck and looking around.
The commotion of the crash had gotten the attention of nearby zombies, apparently, because I was going to be surrounded in another minute. If you ever wonder why I avoided bigger cities, this was the reason. Between the main streets and back alleys, dozens, maybe even a few hundred, zombies were moving toward me and I had to act fast.
Checking my gear, I did a quick evaluation of resources before leaving the truck behind. My Henry was nowhere to be found, lost somewhere during the crash, but the shotgun was still attached to my leg, as was my Sig. Of course, until I could scavenge some ammunition, the handgun would stay in its holster, as I only had a few rounds left.
As if things weren’t bad enough, the first of the jeeps rounded the corner of the street two blocks away and it was time to move. Looking at the line of buildings within a reasonable distance, I spotted a likely suspect and pushed off the truck. The landing wasn’t pretty, as I was still recovering from a crash and my back was killing me, but I started in a hobbled jog and headed for an alley that zombies weren’t spilling out of.
The alley I chose only had a few, which wasn’t the worst that could’ve happened. I dodged the arms of the first, grabbing it by the neck and slamming its head against the wall. The second zombie, dressed in business attire, fell to my knife that traveled upward through the base of its throat. Since the last zombie was still at the end of the alley, I ran toward it and jumped at the last moment, sending a straight kick into its chest and landing on top of it. The back of its head hit the pavement and cracked, gray liquid pooling out from the wound.
Ignoring the disgusting picture I would never be able to forget, I reached the exit and turned right, hesitating for a moment. The street was packed with zombies, and, while they moved slowly, they were so dense I didn’t want to try making it through.
The zombies weren’t the only thing packed together, though, as traffic must have been backed up here just as much as it had been in Chicago. Jumping onto the hood of the nearest car, I made sure I had a relatively good path before navigating my way from vehicle to vehicle. It was like a terrifying game of “the floor is lava,” which I never thought I would play as an adult. It was less degrading to think about the film “Tremors,” where they had to stay off the ground. That only felt marginally more dignified, though.
I was less than a block away from a parking garage, but when I looked behind me, I could see the jeeps charging down the street, the zombies in their path being crushed, bashed, or splattered. It wouldn’t be long until the town was painted red, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to add to the mixture.
Whipping the shotgun up from its holster, I blew a hole in the horde below and jumped from the SUV I had been on. In a dead sprint, I made it to the garage entrance just as the first jeep drove into view. Without hesitation, I headed inside and found the stairs, a plan forming. It didn’t give me warm fuzzies, but I may have still been recuperating from whiplash.
I could hear the jeeps pull in, with one staying at the bottom while the other two drove up the ramp. I only had one chance to make my play and, as I came out of the stairs on the third floor, I saw my opportunity. The two jeeps were on the second level now, and I could hear their words of encouragement as the first shot rang out. The acoustics of a gunshot in the car garage made my ears ring, but I stayed focused.
My legs burned as I ran, each step feeling like my calves would rip out of my skin, but I ground my teeth and pushed through it. Just a little further. Several zombies blocked my path, but I brought up the shotgun at the last moment and fired. Two zombies were hit and stumbled into four others, their bodies falling to the sides like bowling pins. At full speed, I rammed into the pile and yelled, pushing myself and three zombies into the elevator shaft beyond.
We plummeted down into darkness, the seconds feeling like an eternity as my stomach clenched, before landing on the top of the elevator as one lump of flesh. The zombies practically exploded beneath me, their bodies hitting the steel with a wet smack that resounded through the shaft. If they hadn’t broken my fall, that would have been me, but I caught my breath and pushed myself up with the same back and leg pain I had been welcomed into the city with.
Knowing the elevator was on the opposite side of the garage, I shoved the zombies aside and lifted the emergency escape hatch of the elevator, part of me wondering if there would be a gun barrel waiting underneath for me. Looking inside, I breathed a sigh of relief and climbed down, parting the doors with my Ka-bar before pushing them open enough to get through.
Glancing around, I found a few cars that looked promising and began my search for an older model. It only took two tries before I climbed into a sedan and set my pack in the seat next to me, leaning down to hotwire the car. Tires were screeching above me, but I started the car and put it in drive before they saw me. Across the way, I could see the third jeep still sitting in park, the men inside firing at the zombies attempting to overwhelm their position.
Easing out slowly, I exited the car garage without another incident and headed for the interstate, pulling out a bag of ramen and crushing it up to eat for the first time in almost a full day. Too many close calls in such a short time told me I really didn’t know what to expect in the new world, since I hadn’t really travelled outside of a small area. I had a lot to learn, but I was catching up fast.
Chapter 67
I made it onto Interstate 75, heading south into Kentucky, finally finding time to write all this down and reload the shotgun. I’ll admit, I was tempted to keep Samantha out of it, but I feel like that would be cheating you out of the whole story, reader. You’re welcome, though it still had me rattled. Would she have really blamed me, or was that my own conscience taking me on the guilt trip?
Either way, I stayed on the highway for a while before I saw a sign for a military checkpoint ahead. I could see it off to the right, maybe half a mile from the exit, but I felt like it could be a trap. If it was legit, I was in luck. If it was overrun by zombies, I was shit out of luck. And if it was the third option, where the military personnel were dead or gone and raiders used it to lure unsuspecting survivors into the checkpoint, I didn’t have a snowball’s chance of making it out alive.
Still, with my supplies low and knowing the car would eventually need gas, I had to check it out as I took the off-ramp. The closer I got, the more I withdrew the positive option. Several points throughout the checkpoint were singed with smoke, tents and boxes burnt or in ashes. The fenced gate was open and, upon closer inspection, looked as if it had been torn down.
Driving slowly, I could see charred bodies scattered all around, some trapped under equipment, and others in the open next to half-melted weapons. Parking my sedan, I stepped out and my foot almost slid out from under me. Catching myself on the door handle, I looked down and noticed shell casings everywhere. Whatever had gone down here, these men and women didn’t go withou
t a fight.
Something felt wrong, though, so I kept the shotgun in my hand as I checked the rest of the camp. The armory was stripped clean, which meant it had probably been raided at some point. It hadn’t been the men I previously encountered, though, because their weaponry wasn’t military-grade. The thought that there was another group of people out here, these ones running around with assault weapons, definitely made my day.
Moving across the area, I walked into the barracks tent. Cots were stacked and lined from wall to wall, and a few footlockers were still intact. I went to each one, checking the contents and hoping to find something with more range, or at least some 9mm ammo. After searching the entire barracks, I wound up scoring a box of forty 9mm rounds, which I used to reload the Sig’s magazines, and an M4 assault rifle. It wasn’t my favorite, as I had practiced more with the M16 in Basic, but beggars couldn’t be choosers as I holstered my shotgun, slung the rifle, and left the tent.
As soon as I walked outside, I heard why my instincts had been on edge. I wasn’t alone.
There was a sealed tent to my right, darkened flaps revealing nothing inside. I knew I could have just walked away, left the checkpoint without a second thought, but that just wasn’t me. Besides, if there was someone in there, I felt obligated to try to help them.
Going to the tent, I kept the M4 in my left hand and slid the zipper open with my right. A rancid scent wafted out to greet me, along with two zombies in officer’s uniforms.
“Holy shit!” I fell backward and held the first one back with the M4 between our chests, but the other was down by my leg. Fearing an imminent bite, I yelled something incoherent and tried to push the first officer off of me. No bite came, but that didn’t change my situation.
I was able to push the officer enough to wedge my elbow between us, providing me enough space to cock the M4 to the right and fire a round into the zombie by my leg. The bullet went in through the top of its skull and it collapsed on my right shin. With my right leg weighed down, I grabbed both sides of the zombie on my torso and forced my left side to roll over, leaving me on top.
A Broken World (Book 2): Shattered Paradise Page 7