Crowded Yet Desolate: A Zombie Novel (7 page)

BOOK: Crowded Yet Desolate: A Zombie Novel
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Joe yelled, “What are you doing? Fucking shoot!” But Ryan still couldn’t. He couldn’t believe it. Had he really chosen this moment, arguably the most potentially heroic of his life, to bow out like a coward?

More zombies poured into the building, spreading their unbearable stench: a mixture of burnt flesh and rotten eggs. Ryan closed his eyes, accepting defeat. There were simply too many to escape. He hoped it would be quick, that they’d go straight for vital organs; that they’d finish by shredding him to pieces, so he couldn’t reanimate. But he knew better. He foresaw a pack of zombies feasting ravenously upon his entrails as he cried out in pain, and then they’d leave him there to become what he hated most.

A noise snapped him from his defeat–metal clanked as the zombies ran full force against the gate. It swayed inward with their force. Seizing the opportunity, Ryan fired the shotgun at the closest zombie, its decaying hands reaching out at him through the gate. As it fell lifeless, fear left Ryan. He fired again and again, falling into a rhythm of zombie destruction.

Before he knew it, he had to reload. The zombies now filled the entire front of the store, tearing their weakened flesh against the serrated edge of the gate. Once reloaded, Ryan fired into the horde again. Ryan heard Kyle behind him yelling that it was time to move out, but Ryan pretended not to hear him. Killing the zombies was bringing him peace, as if somehow he was revenging Deborah. He didn’t know if this peace would continue after the gun was empty, so he was going to make this last.

Roe and Joe had retreated to Kyle, but Ryan still stood his ground, emptying his gun into the undead horde. As Ryan reloaded, the gate unhinged and fell to the ground. Zombies piled into the room after him. At the last moment, Ryan jumped back, evading the outstretched arms of a zombie, and fired, blowing its leg off and forcing it to the ground. Not wanting it to slow him, he threw the gun down and sprinted towards the door. With sweat pouring down his face, he continued toward the door guided by the faint light of the piercing sun. As he passed into the doorway, Roe decapitated a trailing zombie with a swipe of a machete.

Kyle slammed the door shut behind them. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

They met Albert and Cam at the apartment entrance. They ran down the stairs, towards the door and found it closed. Albert and Cam had terrified looks. Ryan heard the sound of the gun
store door snapping, and the zombies’ screams got louder. Ryan’s peace and bravery fell away.

“It won’t fucking open,” Cam said, kicking the door.

“Why didn’t we check this before?” Albert snapped, speaking rapidly and seeming more like a mouse than ever.

“It’s just jammed, jackasses,” Roe said, and pushed Cam out of the way. Roe turned and climbed the stairs two at a time, spun, and let his momentum build as he ran back down. He jumped into the door, completely unhinging it, and fell to the ground on top of it. Outside, the ground was littered with arrows and dead bodies. But nothing else. No zombies were in sight.

“Ryan, you’re a freaking genius!” Joe shouted ecstatically, as he helped his brother
stand.

It worked!
Ryan thought.
It really fucking worked!
He filled with pride upon seeing the success of his plan. The noise of the shotgun had lured the zombies to the others side of the building, leaving a clear path out this door. Now the only problem was that the zombies were in the building and headed straight towards them.

The first zombie abruptly arrived in the room. Ryan reached for his handgun, drew it, and prepared to shoot, but Joe ran forward, yelling “No! don’t! It will make too much noise.” Ryan lowered his weapon as Joe raised his machete, swung at the zombie. He was too late. Kyle threw up his hands in defense, and teeth sunk into the webbing between thumb and index finger. Blood gushing down his wrist, Kyle shrieked as Joe kicked the zombie away, bringing the machete down against the zombie’s neck. It made a clean slice and the head rolled away.

 

Chapter 8

 

Nervous eyes shifted, each person hoping the next would know what to do. Kyle gripped his bleeding stump, looked down at the hand which twitched as if still attached, then looked around at the others. His face revealed a mind that knew the facts but did not accept reality. Staring at Kyle, knowing the bite was a future bullet to the head, Ryan felt his mouth dry, his lungs tighten. Joe sighed deeply, his face turning blood red, and he raised his machete.

Ryan could bear the sight of Kyle losing his head–not here, not now. “We need to go now,” Ryan commanded. “More zombies will be here any moment.”

Joe looked like he might argue, but he reluctantly lowered the weapon. Kyle pulled off his shirt. After Kyle fumbled with the task, Albert approached him and used the shirt to create a crude tourniquet around the infected wrist.

Joe stared into Ryan’s eyes, his bitter expression saying, “I know what you’re doing. You’re willing to kill us all to try and protect Kyle. But you can’t. He’s as good as dead.”

Finished, they ran on, avoiding the main roads, avoiding a group they saw moving in the distance; zombies when possible, but slaying them with their machetes when necessary. Never using guns. The group was the perfect size, able to conceal themselves from the hoards, but also able to utilize manpower when needed. As he ran, Ryan wondered how long Kyle had left.
The situation has to be dealt with
, Ryan thought in a cool tone, mimicking how he thought Joe would word it. He didn’t know why he was becoming bitter towards Joe, who was right: Kyle had to be dealt with.

Time ran with them, and eventually they found a house to rest in at a small subdivision. The twins led the way over a picket fence to the small backyard of a white house with green trimming. Once all were over, they stood in a circle, staring at each other, heaving and gasping for oxygen. No one dared move forward, say a word, even twitch beyond their movements necessary for breathing in fear of igniting what was next.

“Just fucking do it already,” Kyle said. When no one moved, he stepped into the middle of the circle. “Come on you pussies! Do it! Before I become one of them. Come on, can’t you bitches finish me off?” He flailed his arms as he screamed, looking opposite of his typically composed self. Ryan knew that this was no longer Kyle speaking; he had probably never used such language in his life. He was trying to taunt them, to quicken the process so that they could move on safely. Ryan’s heart filled with pity and compassion at Kyle’s selfless act. Still, no one moved.

Kyle whirled towards Ryan, stepping towards him. “What? Are you gonna cry now? Afraid to murder me like you murdered your precious wife?”

What the hell?
Ryan thought. Kyle continued to yell, but Ryan didn’t hear any of it.
How does Kyle know about Deborah? How does he know what happened?
His pity drained away. He wanted to hurt Kyle, to rip him apart. He must have begun to move forward, for Joe grabbed Ryan’s shoulder and pushed him back against the fence. Joe dashed towards Kyle, who waited without defense, and wrestled him to the ground. The machete was pulled from the pack. Ryan watched this happen while in motion, and just as Joe was bringing the blade down towards Kyle’s throat, Ryan kicked Joe away in the chest, and he fell away.

Dropping to his knees, Ryan pulled the machete from his own bag and swung it at Kyle. In an instant, Kyle’s hand was severed and twitching lifeless on the ground. Ryan could see the bones sitting smoothly against the newly created nub of Kyle’s arm. He fought the urge to vomit. Kyle’s ensuing scream jolted the rest of the circle and they rushed Ryan, pulling him off.

Albert held him around the chest. “That’s enough. Calm down. Don’t be cruel.”

Ryan was confused. What was Albert implying? Then the truth hit him. They mistook Ryan’s attempt at saving Kyle’s life for torture, vengeance for the pastor’s stinging comments.

Joe was again standing with his machete. He approached Kyle.

“No!” Ryan screamed. “Stop!”

Joe backed away from Kyle with suspicion in his eyes. Kyle rolled on the ground, clutching the nub of his arm, which was spurting blood all over the grass.

“Albert.” Ryan turned forcefully back to Albert, and Albert jumped back, alarmed. “Could this save him? The bite was small, and we got the shirt tied around the wound soon as it happened. And now we cut his fucking hand off.” Ryan’s voice was incredulous, hysterical.” Is it possible that the virus hasn’t spread?”

Albert regained his composure and pondered the question. “It’s not likely,” he began, “But, yes, I suppose it’s possible.” He paused, shaking his head. “With his heart rate so high, the likelihood–”

“I didn’t ask about the likelihood,” Ryan interrupted. “I asked if it was possible.”

“Yes, It’s possible,” he said with sympathy.

“No, please,” Kyle said. “Just kill me. It hurts so bad, just kill me.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ryan shouted. “We’re not going to kill you.” Ryan caught the twins exchanging nervous glances. Ryan pointed his finger at them. “You’re not going to kill him. No one else has to die today.”

Albert crouched to observe Kyle, who was now fading in and out of consciousness. Watching this, Ryan couldn’t believe he was responsible for inflicting this pain. He was the cause for the dark pools of blood collecting in the grass and the large severed hand, a twitching island amidst the sea of red. Finally Kyle passed out.

After a while, Albert said, “There’s not much we can do with what we have. We need to stop the bleeding. Let’s get him in the house and see what we can find.”

As they went towards the house, the glass doors slid open. A large black man in athletic shorts and a white tank top walked out and crossed his arms, puffing his already huge chest out further. Behind him, standing on her tiptoes to cautiously see over his shoulder, his wife held a swaddled baby to her chest. The baby was silent.
Great
, Ryan thought,
just what we need right now
. The grouped stopped, startled, and the two parties stared at each other. Ryan again thought of the old western movies, John Wayne walking through a silent town and staring down the man he was about to kill.

“What in the hell are you doing in our yard?” the black man yelled, his as booming as Ryan expected.

“Nothing,” Roe said, putting his hands reassuringly in front of him. “Nothing at all. We’ll see ourselves out.”

“Oh hell no,” his wife said. The man stepped to the side to let her have her say. She stepped into the grass. “You think you’re just gonna walk up in here, screaming and making a bunch of noise and then leave like nothing happened?” She took a step towards the group, and her husband grabbed her shoulder, beckoning her back. “Never mind you leaving bloodstains all over the place. You know that’s just gonna ‘tract them even more of them things! The only way to survive this shit is to stay quiet. When our neighbors went bat-shit crazy, runnin’ around all over the place, we stayed in here. We turned the lights off. We waited. And now you mother fuckers come in here, ruin it all, and you think you’re just gonna leave us here to die?”

Although he was terrified of her, Ryan saw her point: now that they exposed the family, they couldn’t just leave them behind. It was also crucial that they get into the house, or Kyle might bleed to death. It seemed taking them in would benefit both sides.

“Fine,” Joe said, walking forward. The others followed. “You’re coming with us. But I’m taking the damn baby. You’re gonna slow us down enough as it is.” Now face-to-face, the wife backed away from Joe. “Come on, give it,” he said.

After the man reassured his wife, she gave Joe the baby. “It’s not an it. She’s a she . . . please be careful.”

Tears flooded her eyes as she stepped into her husband’s arms. Over his wife’s head, he studied Joe. Joe secured the baby in his left arm, making sure he could still access his handgun with his other hand. Roe and Ryan picked Kyle up and followed the couple into their home, Kyle’s toes dragging on the ground.

Albert’s face lit up once they were inside the house. “I need you to do me a favor.”

The woman hesitated. “Um, okay.”

“Go into the kitchen and heat a pan on the stove. Then get me any sheets you have and start ripping them up.”

She furrowed her brow, her eyes dancing from Albert to Kyle’s arm. “Lord have mercy.”

Ryan agreed. This was going to be nasty. But if it could possibly save Kyle’s life, it was worth a try. Fortunately, Kyle was still unconscious. Ryan allowed Albert to assist Roe in carrying Kyle into the kitchen, and then he waited with the others by the door.

The black man left to change his clothes, and when he returned, Ryan gathered that the black man was Tavaris and his wife was Kayla. Roe then immediately began filling Tavaris in on the plan. He seemed not to listen, uninterested. But he did act as if he were glad to be part of a large party with a decent stockpile of weapons.

As they waited, Ryan heard what sounded like sizzling bacon, but the horrid smell and piercing shriek that followed told him otherwise. A few minutes later, they returned from the kitchen with Roe and Albert supporting Kyle. White sheets were tied with duck tape around the nub of Kyle’s arm, and his bloody shirt had been replaced with one of Tavaris’s. It was too wide and too short. Kyle muttered he was fine and finished his way towards the group on his own.

Ryan marveled at the diverse nature of this group of survivors, none of whom would have met if not for the zombie outbreak. He appreciated this vain blessing, but it could not bring a smile. Kyle sat on the couch, and they waited five minutes for him to gain strength and for the painkillers to begin working. When ready, Kyle staggered to his feet, a skyscraper wobbling in strong gusts, and managed to make it to the front door. Tavaris hugged Kayla, kissed his child’s forehead, and opened the door. Once outside, the heat ran over Ryan, and he began to miss the coolness of the house. Roe led them northwest towards the interstate. Joe stayed in the rear to keep a close eye on Kyle for signs of zombification. The group was now too large–and the baby too noisy–for the group to be surreptitious, so as they approached the interstate and the frequency of zombie attacks increased, the quiet of the machetes were replaced with the power of the guns.

Just as Ryan felt the need for a break, they reached Peachtree and were forced to halt. The street and sidewalks were filled with zombies, even more so than at the gun store. Now the protection of the building was gone, and there was no time to formulate an escape plan. A horrid smell reached Ryan. He wrinkled his nose and dry-heaved as he forced himself to see what was ahead. Lost limbs and blood were everywhere. Intestines and organs spilled from zombies as they mindlessly wandered. Blood stains splattered the sides of buildings, streaking all the way to the ground, where people had failed to escape their pursuers. Cars became denser leading up to the interstate ramp, some of them wrecked and overturned, limbs hanging out closed doors and opened windows. Windows of upper floors in the surrounding buildings were broken where people had opted for cleaner deaths.

Ryan’s heart sunk, and he began to seriously contemplate suicide. Hell, they might as well just turn to each other right now and end it on their own terms. This would ensure a swift, pain free death, and it would guarantee none of them would walk the street as a lifeless monster. Ryan wondered if he were the only one harboring such thoughts. Was he the only one who realized that they weren’t going to survive? Apparently so. The others began reloading their firearms and preparing for battle. Kyle struggled to place his second clip into his handgun with just one hand. Albert nervously fumbled bullets into his clip, then threw the gun to the side, readying his rifle instead. Roe armed Tavaris with his own handgun, and then Tavaris picked up Albert’s handgun to duel-wield the pistols. Roe swept his carbine from his shoulder with a smile that Ryan found to be creepy. But at the same time, it gave him hope. Ryan pulled his Marlin from his shoulder.
I guess it’s worth a try.

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