Least Likely To Survive (12 page)

For a man who had to be nearing seventy, with a spare tire around the middle, he moved pretty fast.  I was impressed for a moment, until I remembered the virus caused people to lose most of their faculties, and the one registering pain must be one of them.

In true multi-tasker style; I was completing my inner monologue while palming a gun, and sending a bullet right into the guy’s skull.  He gave a groan, and fell to the floor with no further theatrics.  That was one thing I did like about the infected; they didn’t make a big fuss before they died, they just fell down.  Although a dragged out and dramatic death scene would have been far more entertaining, that thought was neither here nor there.

“Nice shot,” Chloe commented as we all started to head towards the guns and ammunition of our choice.

“Um, thanks…”  I replied, somewhat puzzled over the meaning of being complimented by a tween over my ability to aim and fire.  I didn’t think I’d ever get over these two and guns.

I reached down to the old man’s pocket, and fished out the keys, having déjà vu over had having done the same thing the day before.  “Here,” I threw the keys to Jack, and he caught them with a wink at me before he began unlocking everything in sight.

I headed over to the shotguns first, and grabbed another to replace the one I had given Jack.  I decided to just stick with the Mossberg Zombie Hunter I still had and just add shells since I was already used to firing it.  I did however snag a couple more Smith and Wesson handguns, as they had been relatively easy for me to fire, and loaded up with as many clips, shells and magazines as I could carry.  Once all four hand gun pouches and pockets were filled, I looked up to see how everyone else was faring.

Apparently they had all liked the idea of my harness, as I noticed each of them had grabbed something similar.  The only difference being was Chloe had grabbed the smallest one they had, and couldn’t carry as many guns and clips as the rest of us could.

The one Ty had selected looked like something out of a comic book, as it not only had holsters for guns, but sheaths for long swords across the back, which he out-fitted with twin Katanas.  Well I’ll be damned.  Who knew the kid was a juvenile delinquent, as well as a swordsman?

I turned my attention to Jack, who had followed suit with his own holster, and watched as he finished emptying a box of shells into his pocket.  He then grabbed a few empty duffel bags that had been stashed under the counter, started to throw in every gun, bullet, shell and cartridge he could possibly stuff in there.

I found this to be the most brilliant idea I had ever heard of, and started to do the same.  I grabbed every last bag I could find, and threw a few to Ty and Chloe.  “Hey, fill these up with everything you can.”  We ransacked the place until we couldn’t carry any more bags and well, we ran out of empties to fill.

After we had filled our bags, and our arms, it occurred to me I didn’t have a free hand to fire a gun.  Apparently Jack had come to the same conclusion, as he held a hand out to me, “Here, give me a couple of those so you can fire if need.”

Without forethought, I handed off the duffels to him, and grabbed my Mossberg, motioning to the door with my head that it was time to head out.  The four of us made our way back to the front of the shop, when I noticed that Ty had also taken all the bags from his sister, and Chloe was the one sporting a gun out, checking for targets.  I wasn’t real sure how comfortable I was at the thought of her being the other person on point, but there was no time to argue.

We approached the door again, and just as I put my hand on the handle, Chloe grabbed it and yelled in a loud whisper, “Wait! Look!” directing my attention to the scene outside the door.

I didn’t know if it was the car engine, the gunfire, or just our smell, but the townspeople had finally decided to make an appearance.  And it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

There was a crowd outside, more than I could count, and every last one of those bastards was hungry.  And I mean hungry like ‘big men about to enter a hot dog eating contest at the County Fair’ hungry.  Except I suppose cannibalism is frowned upon at most festivals.  Men, women and children were now loitering on the street and sidewalk, as if waiting for the show to begin, and every last one of them was a zombie.

I couldn’t help but think of how twisted the whole scene looked: happy families, kids with cartoon characters on their shirts… all waiting to eat someone.  Of course the whole thing was made even more macabre by the fact that blood stained their faces, and many were missing limbs, and dragging broken legs behind them.

My attention zeroed in on a little boy, probably about seven, with flaxen hair, and once rosy cheeks.  He looked like your quintessential cherub, fresh from the playground, except his head was cocked at an unnatural angle, as if his neck had been broken.  I could see part of his spinal column exposed through a gaping hole in his neck and there was still a yellow balloon tied to his wrist.  My stomach churned at the sight, and I was pretty sure I was about to heave its contents all over my DC’s.  This shit was worse than a Stephen King novel.

I wasn’t sure how they had all managed to fill the street so quickly or where they had come from, but the thought didn’t settle well with me.  They must have been in the shops, still picking off pieces from their last meals when they heard us. 

What bothered me most was how they had gotten out of the shops. 
“Fuck.  They can open doors…”
I thought as the horror of this realization set in.  This had to mean they still retained some form of semi-coherent thought, or at least muscle memory to be able to open a door, as I didn’t see any broken windows marring the storefronts across the street.  I filed this fact away, as surely it would be useful in the near future.

I turned to Jack, and watched the color drain from his perfectly formed cheeks, and his jaw clench.  I was amazed that I could just about see the veins in his forehead start to pulsate; apparently he knew this was bad too. 

After assessing his overall take on our new guests, I glanced at the kids and was somewhat surprised to see them both with eyes sparkling in anticipation.  It was fucking creepy to think kids would be so excited to face imminent death, but I suppose that was the point of being a kid; you didn’t always realize when shit was serious versus just fun.

Taking a deep breath, I nodded at Chloe, who nodded back at me as she held up the gun with a look of cold determination in her eyes, ready to shoot.  Grabbing the door handle once again, I decided rushing would be our best option.  Almost as if someone had just injected RedBull straight into my bloodstream, I threw the door open so hard I’m pretty sure the glass cracked, but didn’t want to stop and study the damage as the crowd took notice of our exit and started to run in our direction.

I knew time was of the essence, as I started picking people off with as well aimed shots as I could, considering I was running, and trying to shoot at the same time.  I felt Jack crowd behind me, staying close.  Smart man; if the situation were reversed I would be doing the same thing:  If you can’t be the one firing the gun, crowd the person who is.

The mob was moving in as Chloe and I took out as many people as we could while the four of us made our way back to the Hummer.  I could hear Roscoe barking frantically from the interior, while some of the townspeople were trying to figure out how to get to him.  The car was only about ten feet from the entrance of the store we had just left, but fuck, it was the longest ten feet of my life and surrounded by the dead.

At this point, time seemed to freeze, as if God had hit the slow motion button.  Scores of flesh-crazed zombies were closing in on me, and thought had pretty much abandoned me.  I was however, grateful that although my mind had gone blank, my survival instinct had kicked in, and I just kept pulling the trigger.  I tried not to look around, knowing that I didn’t really want to see who or what I was hitting, just that they were going down and the crowd was thinning, but it was nearly impossible.  My clip now empty, I reached over my shoulder and grabbed the Mossberg, hoping the semi-automatic would make taking down multiple people at once a little easier.

I didn’t want to see their faces, but I did.  So many faces, it was like being surrounded by a sea of blood and anger and death.  There was no racism here, no gender discrimination, or age, or personality type, gay, straight: they all just
were
.  Every type of person you can image lumped together in a crowd, all with the same common goal:  To eat us.  ‘It’s a Small World After All’ briefly made an appearance in the forefront of my mind thinking about how nice it was to see people finally coming together. 

Mentally rolling my eyes at the bizarre direction my thoughts had chosen this rather inopportune moment to take, I refocused on the crowd still trying to get to us.

After what must have been an eternity, we reached the car, and I grabbed the first handle I reached and threw it open, taking out an old lady before she took a chunk out of me.  “Quick!  Get the fuck inside!”  I yelled first at the kids, as they darted around me to launch themselves toward the open door.  Jack had reached around me and tossed in a few bags, freeing a hand, and started to assist with the crowd that was getting much too close for comfort.

Jack and I took point as Ty and Chloe launched themselves into the backseat, and scurried over the back into the trunk area with Roscoe, clearing the landing strip for us.  Once the coast was clear, I started to climb in, while half-turned around and still firing away, trying to have Jack’s back as much as possible.

I scooted backwards over the passenger seat as fast as one can possibly crab-walk on leather, making room for Jack.  “Jack!  Get your ass in here already!”  I yelled at him, slightly alarmed that he had made no move to enter the vehicle.  I leaned forward to get a better look, and found out why.

There had to have been at least a hundred of them, and they were only about twenty feet out.  Jack was completely engrossed in shooting as many as possible if the determined line of his jaw gave any hint as to his mood.  I grabbed his shoulder, and pulled his shirt as hard as I could to shake him from his reverie.  He jumped, as if I had startled him, quickly saw what was going on, and turned to climb in after me.

Just as his back was turned, I noticed a pimply-faced teenager grab Jack’s ankle, and start to lean in for a bite.  Without forethought, I grabbed a Wesson, and put a bullet in the kid’s cheek as he was mere inches from the jean covering Jack’s leg. 

We all watched as the bullet ripped into his cheek, and blew his eye clean from the socket.  Not a word was said as we all witnessed said eye shoot out and slam into the open door, before hitting the ground with a sickening splat.  The kid went down, and Jack pulled his leg in, leaning over to close the door.

I was leaned back, trying to catch my breath, with Jack half draped over me, panting just as heavily.  Of course, my hormones took this moment to stand and take notice of the incredibly sexy, broody, movie star laying on me, and thus went a little haywire.  My heart was already racing from what had just happened, but it now kicked into overtime, as I felt his heart pounding through his ribs, and watched as the sweat beading on his neck started to roll down, and drip onto my shirt. 
Fuck me
.  Of course I would pick this of all moments to start thinking of sex.  I was worse than a frat boy.

Still huffing, Jack finally lifted his head to look at me.  “Thanks Angie.  That was fucking close.  Too close.”  He half smiled, and started to pull himself off me.  “Sorry for crushing you, let’s get up front and get the fuck out of here, shall we?”  I just sat there, still somewhat paralyzed by my own want, and watched him climb back into the driver’s seat.  

As if a switch had been flipped, I yanked myself out of my reverie, and followed suit, climbing back into the passenger seat and settling myself in.  The domino effect continued as Ty and Chloe also hauled themselves back over the seat, and started to buckle in.  Roscoe was still barking frantically at the zombies from the far back as Jack turned the key and started the car. 

Popping the shifter in reverse, he too got to feel what I had by running over the people clawing the back of the Hummer, desperate to get inside.  I wondered if the shocks took the obstacles better than my car had as we pulled away.

Chapter 8: San Antonio.

“Holy fuck!  That was awesome!  Did you see that guy’s eye pop out!?”  I turned to look at Ty as he said this, still panting and cheeks red from the excitement.  He just looked at me, grinning wildly, as if this were the coolest thing he had ever witnessed, never mind the fact we were all almost taken out by a mob of zombies.  I started to wonder if for all my callous nature, I was the only one affected by all the death.

Chloe was looking at Ty, and smacked his shoulder.  “It wasn’t cool, it was
gross
.  And I’m pretty sure there is zombie muck on my door, and now I’ll get infected from the contact and eat your brain.”  She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest with a harrumph, trying to avoid contact with the contaminated door.

I took pity on her, and reaching into the center console, pulled out a package of sanitary wipes I had seen in there earlier, and passed them back to her.  She took them, and smiled gratefully at me as she opened the packet, and began trying to clean off the little blood splatters.  Once she got them all, she rolled the window down and tossed the wipe out.  When she turned back, I then handed her the bottle of hand sanitizer I had rescued from my pack, and watched as she squirted a generous amount in her hand, and began giving herself a mini-bath with the gel.