The Demented Z (Book 2): Desolation (Book 2) (4 page)

Spinning back toward Rachael, he saw one of the demented was
just grabbing a hold of her from behind.  
The two of them went down, dropping out of sight.
  There were still a couple farther back,
racing to catch up.

Using a fence post for leverage, Tom leapt over the barbwire
and began sprinting toward Rachael’s position.  
Knowing he could never make this long of a shot with his pistol, he
pumped his arms and ran as fast as he could.  
Rachael’s anguished screams pushed him faster.
  Momentarily blotting them out was the boom of
Hank’s rifle. One of the two demented
that still ran, toppled over backwards as a round ripped through his skull.

Tom was almost there when Hank fired another shot, dropping
the remaining pursuer. Tom was terrified
of what he would find as he ran up on Rachael. Her pained screams continued, so
he at least knew she was still alive.

The scene he found was as bad as he could have
imagined. Rachael lay on the ground face
down, pinned by the camouflaged hunter from earlier.
  The hunter was gnawing at the back of
Rachael’s neck, spilling blood everywhere.  
She was still screaming, but it was becoming strained and weak.

Rushing over, Tom placed his pistol up to the hunter’s head
and pulled the trigger. Blood and gore
splattered across Rachael’s head and the ground beside her.
  Tom dropped the pistol and shoved the body
off of her. She continued to scream
while laying still.

“I’m here...you’re okay now...I got ya.”
  Tom said while he kneeled down beside
her. Thick, dark blood oozed out from
several wounds near the base of her neck.  
The hunter had ripped out large chunks of flesh.
  Tom grabbed his knife and cut away a large
section of his sweatshirt. Using the
fabric he began applying pressure to the wounds, hoping to stem the flow of
blood.

Adding to Tom’s already high sense of urgency was Hank’s
rifle continuing to fire. Something was
still out there.

“I have to get you to the house.
  Can you hold this on your neck?”
  Tom said.  
No response. “Rachael, can you
hold this?”   He repeated.
  Her back moved with each breath, but her head
remained still.

Having no other choice, Tom used one hand to hold the fabric
in place while rolling her over onto his other arm.
  Tom was horrified to see how much blood was
pooled on the ground where her head had laid.  
Cradling her in his arms, he stood and turned for the house.
  Hank stood on the porch, rifle raised,
sighting through the scope. His shots
had become less frequent, but he continued to fire at something that was out
there.

Racing across the field, Tom tried to think of a smooth way
across the barbwire fence, but nothing was coming to mind.
  Hank had already recognized the potential
problem. He had shouldered his rifle and
was sprinting across the backyard toward them.

He arrived at the fence just before Tom, and said, “Bad?”

Tom nodded his head and handed her across the fence to Hank.

“There are more coming out of the
trees, several undead.”   Hank said.
 

“Get her to the house, I will be right there.”

Hank turned and ran for the house.
  Tom climbed through the fence and ran along
it until he found his rifle. Turning
back to the trees he saw several undead staggering across the field.
  They were less than halfway to the fence and
at their pace, he had quite a bit of time.  
Rather than use up more ammo and draw additional attention, Tom turned
and made for the house. Hank’s form was
just disappearing into the open doorway.

Inside the old farmhouse was pandemonium.
  Hank had laid Rachael face down on the
kitchen table and Kelly was working on the back of her neck.
  Blood was running across the wooden table and
streaming into a growing pool on the torn up linoleum.
 

“More rags, I need rags.”  
Kelly shouted.

Hank was running around, yanking out drawers and flinging
open cupboard doors, trying to locate the items Kelly was shouting out.
  Finally finding a drawer full of kitchen
towels, he raced over to Kelly.

Tom looked over and saw Sam standing in the corner.
  His face was as white as a ghost and he
looked about to pass out. Knowing
Rachael was in good hands with Kelly; Tom moved over
to Sam and kneeled down beside him.
“How you doing buddy?”

“My tummy kinda hurts.”

“Let’s get in the other room and lay down.”

Getting the little guy away from the gore and chaos, Tom
laid him on the floor in the next room.  
Immediately some color returned to his face.
  “You going to be
okay bud?”

“Yeah.”
  Sam said while nodding his head.

Tom only knew a small portion of what Sam had been through
and he could only imagine what the little guy had seen and done over the past
days. Between being scared, hungry,
tired, and now seeing the aftermath of a demented attack it was amazing Sam was
still functioning at all.

A loud bang at the back door reminded Tom that those things
were still outside. “Hang here
buddy; I’m going to check on things.”
  Tom said.

Tom found his AR leaning in the corner of the kitchen.
  Dropping the mag, he reloaded the weapon and
glanced at Rachael lying on the table.  
His heart sunk seeing her like this.  
She was surrounded by bloody towels.  
Hank and Kelly both leaned over her, trying desperately to keep her
alive. Tom charged his rifle and headed
for the back door.

The wooden door had no window in it, so Tom was unable to
see what stood outside, banging on the door.  
Moving to the bathroom, he found a small window, mounted high above the
bathtub. The glass was caked with mildew
and scale making it all but impossible to see out of.
  He would either have to open the door or head
upstairs if he wanted to see what was out there.

Taking the stairs two at a time he climbed to the second
story and made for the back wall. Tom
found a small bedroom that had a set of backyard facing windows.
  The room was covered in dust and looked like
it had not been used in years if not decades.  
To one side sat a twin bed, its sheets missing, exposing a stained
yellow mattress.

Stepping up to one of the windows, Tom peered down toward
the back porch. Standing on the porch
were two infected. A small woman,
wearing a shredded sundress, was methodically pounding her forehead into the
door. The other, a well-dressed business
man, paced back and forth behind her, like an anxious salesman.
  Blood stained the back of his suit where a
large hole was torn in the fabric.

Looking further out toward the field, Tom saw there were
several undead staggering in the direction of the house.
  Just along the tree line was one of the
demented, racing back and forth between a couple large pine trees.
  His behavior was erratic.
  This is the first Tom had seen one that was
neither chasing someone nor slowly plodding around.
  Tom knew the longer they stayed in the old
farmhouse the more infected would arrive, and if they stayed too long they
might get pinned in.

Hurrying back downstairs, Tom headed for the kitchen.
  Kelly was leaned over Rachael, and Hank stood
to the side, worry oozing out of him.  
“Help me out real quick.”   Tom
said to Hank.

Needing no prodding to get out of the kitchen, Hank nodded
his head and walked over to Tom. “What’s
up?”

“There are a couple at the back door and more on the
way. We need to get out of here, but
help be block the back door with the couch in there.”
  Tom said while pointing to an old flower
print sofa in the living room.

Tom’s heart raced when he did not find Sam lying on the
floor where he left him. Panicking he
shouted, “Sam.”

“Look daddy.”   Sam
said from over by one of the front windows.  
“I named her Jill...she looks like her, from my book.”

Tom was relieved to have found him, but seeing an infected
standing at the window, staring in at Sam, just a foot away, gave him a whole
new stress. “Step back from the window
bud...slow.”

“It’s okay dad, I’m naming them.”

Tom did not like the plural “them.”
  He said, “Are there more?”

“Yip, see Jack back there by the barn.”

Jill still stood there, staring down at Sam, barely shifting
from side to side.

“Sam...slowly back away.
  Come over here buddy.”
  Tom said, while raising his rifle to his
shoulder. Putting the dot on Jill’s
forehead, he waited to see what she would do.  
Sam began to ease away from the window.  
The infected’s eyes remained on him.

Continuing to back away, Sam turned his head toward Tom and
said, “Maybe she‘s friendly.”

Tom never took his eyes off of Jill.
  As Sam got farther away from the window, he
noticed that she was beginning to shift her head around, looking agitated.
  Another couple steps and she began to pound
her head against the glass. Sam
panicked, turned and ran for Tom. Jill
freaked out and slammed her body up against the window, causing it to crack in
several directions.

From next to him, Hank said, “That other one is coming from
behind her. The window’s not going to
hold.”

“Let’s shove this...”  
Was all Tom could get out before the glass shattered and Jill came crashing
into the room.   
She caught herself on her hands and knees, and began to rise.
  Placing the red dot on her head, Tom pulled
the trigger. The boom was deafening in
the enclosed space. Sam covered his ears
and screamed out.

Tom could see Jack staggering their way, attracted to all
the noise. “Head for the kitchen
guys...I’ll take care of the other one.”  
After Hank and Sam were out of the room, he finished off Jack and went
over to the broken out window.   Looking
out, he could see more infected in the distance.
  Listening, he could no longer hear the one on
the porch banging at the door. Knowing
they need to get out of this death trap, Tom made for the kitchen.

Kelly and Hank stood next to Rachael discussing something
when Tom entered the room. Both of them
stopped and turned toward Tom.    “More
are coming, we have to move.”   Tom said.

“We need wheels.”  
Hank said.

Kelly looked down at Rachael and said, “She’s nowhere near
stable...she needs medical supplies.”

Tom nodded his head and said, “I’ll go out, see if I can get
us a vehicle.”

“Nobody’s lived here in years.
  I can’t imagine there is anything.”
  Hank said.

“I saw another house down the road...maybe a quarter mile.”
  Tom replied.

Kelly looked worriedly at Tom, “You can’t go out on your
own.”

Tom glanced at Hank, and then back at Kelly.
  “I’m not leaving anyone here alone.”
  Reaching for his pistol, Tom felt his empty
holster and remembered leaving it where Rachael was attacked.
  Grabbing his spare from his ankle holster, he
held it out toward Kelly. “Take
this. You guys cover each other, listen
for my return. “  
Pointing at Rachael, he added, “Is she ready to move?”

Kelly shrugged her shoulders.
  “I’ll have her as ready as possible.”

Tom nodded and headed for the living room, figuring an exit
through the already broken window would both cause the least disturbance and
give him the greatest chance of avoiding a face to face confrontation.
  Looking out through the void, he could see
several undead still out front, but they were quite a ways off and were of no
current threat.

“Hey Hank, you have a couple walkers headed this way...200
yards out. They might go after me, but
you might want to cover up this window with the couch.”
  Tom said.

Hank walked into the living room as Tom was finishing and
said, “Roger that.”   After a bit of
hesitation, Hank added, “Stay tight out there.”

Tom nodded and stepped out through the window.
  He debated circling around the house and
going for his pistol that remained in the field, but quickly dismissed the
idea. Instead he glanced left and right,
and then moved toward the old barn, planning to use its protection to get a
better view of the neighbor’s house.

On the backside of the barn, Tom found a junkyard of rusted
farm equipment. A couple old tractors, a
combine, and a variety of implements that Tom did not recognize dotted the
landscape, weeds trying to hide their forms.  
Keeping his rifle raised, he worked his way along the barn, hugging its back
wall to minimize the directions threats could come from.
  Side stepping along the wall, he peered
between the equipment, scanning the shadows and tall grass for any movement.
  Not seeing anything, he continued on to the
far corner.

Nearing the corner, Tom
sliced
the pie
to minimize his exposure to any near threats.
  Not finding any, he crouched down at the
corner and surveyed ahead. Far to his
left were the three undead he had seen earlier, slowly staggering along the dirt
driveway. None had noticed Tom, and they
continued toward the farmhouse. Directly
across from the barn sat the neighbor’s house.  
It looked to be nearly a half mile distant, quite a bit farther than he
had thought initially. Not having any
other options, Tom crouched low and started across the field.

After making it partway across the open space, he turned
toward the three undead. They still
slowly moved along the driveway, a slow, but inevitable march toward the one’s
he loved. He had to change their
course. Kelly and Hank could take care
of them, but he’d rather not take chances.  
Tom debated gunning them down, but the shots could draw more attention
than he desired. Instead, he held his
hands to his mouth in a funnel shape and shouted, “Hey!
  This way!”
  The trio continued their slow onslaught.
  A little louder, “Over
here!”   Their little parade ground
to a halt, and all three turned toward Tom and began shuffling his way.
  Good enough.  
Turning back toward the neighbor’s house, Tom began a slow jog.