Better Lucky than Good (Records of the Resistance) (21 page)

The melodic grind of gravel under foot continued as the pair strode along the isolated road. Although only a few days had past since their meeting, the disorder of the following days had felt more akin to weeks. Melanie and Clay were again alone together, just as they had been at the onset of their journey.

It was Melanie who would break the silence of their walk first.

"Clay, can I ask you something?" she said, keeping her voice to a whisper.

"Shoot." Clay responded.

Melanie hesitated for a moment, deducing a delicate way to propose her question.

"Have you thought about the possibilities of what you might find, once you get home?" she asked.

Clay too allowed a short pause before answering. He had in fact only briefly thought about the subject and not in much depth.

"Brooke is either alive, or dead." Clay answered.

"Yah... But... Have you actually thought about those two outcomes?" she continued.

"I'm not sure what you're asking me, Mel..." Clay answered.

"I mean, how you are going to feel about either of those scenarios?" Melanie continued.

"And what happens if she isn't there at all? What's the plan then?" she prodded further.

"Well, if she isn't there, than that's it. I suppose it might be different if I knew where she was... Like, if she left a note or something. If that's the case, then I'm taking you back to Jamie and Tim. I told you that as long as you were coming with me, then there would be no deviation from the plan." Clay answered, beginning to sound irritated.

Truthfully, Melanie hadn't been the source of his irritation. Clay simply felt uncomfortable talking about his feelings towards the likelihood of Brooke having survived the outbreak. Talking to her was unlike talking to Kevin or Tim. For her he had to remain confident and strong, knowing Melanie required that from him.

"Clay, I'm not trying to irritate you. But I've seen infected who I knew when they were still people. It's a difficult thing to process. I'm just trying to help you prepare yourself for whatever we find inside..." Melanie said apologetically.

Clay continued walking, while offering no response to Melanie. The grinding of the gravel echoed through the cool night air. He appreciated what Melanie had been attempting to do and likely would have done the same had their roles been reversed. However, it still remained that Melanie required him to maintain as he had been since the day they had met; calm and calculated.
 

"The bridge is just ahead of us... See it?" Clay asked, changing the subject to the task at hand.

"Mmhmm..." Melanie answered, recognizing immediately that he had ended the discussion.

The river's width increased exponentially as it approached the big city. The bridge spanning the breadth of the river was supported by three pairs of steel-reinforced concrete pillars, with thick beams running along its length.
 

Clay peered through the grating that made up the surface of the bridge, in an attempt to establish whether or not the military had in fact planted explosives along it's supporting pillars. While the darkness inhibited his ability to locate any installed explosives, Clay remained doubtful that the army had successfully done so. Even if they had of learned the fate of the soldiers that they had found on the road, it was unlikely that they would have the resources to make another attempt on the bridge.
 

Crossing the span was a particularly perilous part of their journey. Should they find that there were infected awaiting their arrival on the opposite side of the river, they would have no choice but to retreat in the direction that they had come. There was no surrounding bush to escape into and hide from their pursuers, much like they had on the night the farmhouse burned. The sound of gravel under their feet had been replaced with the hollow ringing of the grated bridge surface, which echoed through the night with every step. With every progressive movement, Clay envisioned approaching infected, if only for a moment, understanding quickly that his tired eyes had again played a trick on him.

Although unnerving, the bridge crossing proved uneventful. With their feet returning to the shifting gravel of the road, Clay immediately recognized that his plan would need some adjusting. They had arrived at the point in their journey where they should begin using the wood lot to bypass the road and observe the suburb from the field edge before infiltrating the ant farm of houses.

"We have a problem..." Clay said, staring into the black of the woodlot.

"What's that?" Mel asked.

"Well... Our chances of navigating through that woodlot in the dark are pretty poor. Not to mention, without any moon or stars, the going will be slow. We probably won't get through it before the sun comes up." he replied.

"So? What's the plan then?" Melanie asked.

"Well... We're going to have to stick to the road. It skirts the edge of the suburb. As long as we keep quiet, the privacy fences will keep us out of sight. The disadvantage of not cutting through the woods, is that we won't be able to scout the neighbourhood from a distance. We'll be going in blind." Clay answered.

"Okay... Let's get moving then." Melanie said.

*****

Tim and Jamie had made steady progress in gathering up what was left of the equipment. They had amassed a huge inventory of rifles, several light machine guns and a single general purpose machine gun. The latter having had been mounted to the G-Wagen positioned at the vanguard of the column. During the process, Jamie had made a grim observation in regard to how such a heavily armed and well trained convoy could fall to the infected. The majority of the magazines in the weapons had all been empty. Although the heavy weapons would decimate entire ranks of the undead, the loud report that accompanied their use would only draw additional undead to the battle. It appeared that it was only a matter of time before the soldiers had been overrun by the undead. Their powerful ranged weaponry and finite ammunition had left them vulnerable to a mass attack by the infected.

From his observations, Jamie and Tim had both garnered a higher level of respect for Clay who had ordered that firearms be only used in the most dire of circumstances. At the time of Clay's instructions they had known his reasoning, but had now come to understand it in seeing the results of doing the opposite.

Even still, with all the spent casings blanketing the grounds surrounding the convoy, Jamie and Tim were able to find an impressive quantity of ammunition in the back of one of the two trucks. Along with it were explosives, directional mines and hand grenades. It appeared that Clay had been correct about this too, having guessed that the convoy would have been tasked with blockading one of the city's exits.

Their best find had been that which they were currently working to retrieve. The rear G-Wagen had a heavy machine gun fitted to its turret, resembling the fifty-caliber machine guns that Tim had seen on the big screen. Unfortunately, the vehicle it was mounted on was currently at rest in the field to the right of the convoy.
 

Tim and Jamie had been discussing how they would remove the massive weapon from the vehicle's turret when they heard movement on the gravel road behind them. The pair spun around, simultaneously raising their weapons and preparing to charge.

"That's enough boys. I'd hold it right there..." said a man from the road.

Even from their position in the field, the pair could make out at least twelve figures, who were all currently pointing assault weapons directly at them.

*****

"Clay, you hear that?" Melanie asked.
 

"Yah. It doesn't sound good, does it?" Clay answered.

The pair had reached the fence lined border of the suburb, and had been following it in silence until having heard the hair-raising sounds coming from within the maze of houses.

"It sounds like it's coming from the church. We'll be able to get a look up ahead. It's about a block away from us." he continued.

The pair cautiously moved along the road, being concealed from any nearby infected by the tall fences. Upon reaching a break in the houses, Clay and Melanie were afforded a glimpse of the commotion's source.

A church located halfway up the street from them was completely enveloped by the largest horde that either Clay, or Melanie had seen to date. The ranks of the undead were deep and concentrated mostly on the heavy cathedral doors that were facing the street. Additional undead were steadily streaming in to join their repulsive comrades in their assault on the ornate fortification. The entire scene was quickly becoming illuminated by the rising sun, bathing the setting in an unsettling sepulchral glow.

Melanie remained silent. Yet without her having to say a word, Clay could discern her thoughts based entirely on the cadence of her breath.

"There's nothing we can do Mel... The sun's coming up. We've got to keep moving." Clay said apologetically.
 

Melanie had again been drawn toward thoughts of the horrifying events surrounding the fall of the farmhouse. The thought that those inside of the church could face a similar end, made her nauseous.

Clay gripped her arm, pulling gently on it and leading her across the street. The activity surrounding the church made it almost too easy for the pair to travel along the suburbs fringe, having drawn the attention of every infected within ear shot.

After traveling only a few more blocks, Clay finally stopped and approached the fence.

"Alright. Eight fences and we're home..." Clay said, removing his pack and kneeling on the ground.
 

"Clay... There's no way that I'll be able to get over this fence." Melanie said.

Clay busied himself with securing the shotgun to his pack by means of the bags compression straps. After having finished, Clay stood and slung the bag back onto his shoulders.

"It's okay. I'll boost you. As soon as you haul yourself onto the fence, I want you to throw yourself over and get ready for any infected that might be in the yards. Don't straddle the fence and sit straight up. You'll skyline yourself and any undead in the area might see you." Clay said, whispering his instructions to Mel.

Mel nodded in reply. Clay kneeled at the base of the fence and patted his knee with his open hand, indicating to Mel that she should use it as a stool. Melanie placed her foot onto his thigh and sprung up to the top of the fence, laying her rifle across its top as she pulled herself over. Doing exactly as Clay instructed, she rolled her body over the apex of the fence and disappeared from the sight of Clay.
 

The descent from the top of the fence to the plush suburban lawn was rougher than Melanie had anticipated. She was however, able to recover quickly after the shock of the landing, bringing her rifle to bear on any potential threat.

Only a few seconds had passed before Clay slammed to the ground beside her, Drawing his tomahawk from his belt immediately upon landing.

The two repeated this maneuver several times. Each backyard looking almost identical to the one before it, the only differences being subtle ones. Whether it was the lawn furniture, a neglected ornamental pond, or a barbecue. What remained constant was the out of character state of the suburban lawns. The grass had almost reached to Melanie's knees, having been neglected for over a month now.
 

Melanie threw herself over another tall fence. Clay, having become accustomed to hearing only Melanie's landing, was caught off guard when he heard the muffled report of her rifle on the other side of the fence. He quickly hauled himself over the fence after her, attempting to come to her aide.
 

From his position, Clay could see the fallen figure of a woman laying prone in the tall grass. This had obviously been the recipient of Melanie's silent assault. It was the still upright form of a small boy, stumbling towards Mel in the custom manner of the undead that provoked Clay to act. Melanie was frozen, certainly having seen the infected boy's approach but being hesitant to pull the trigger. Being perched on the fence directly above his unmoving companion, Clay threw himself from its height and directly on the child's small frame. The tiny figure folded violently under the descending weight of Clay, who rolled with the momentum of his fall. After regaining his footing, Clay jumped to his feet and fluidly drew his tomahawk. The broken body of the bantam infected hideously thrashed about, trying to further press its assault on Melanie. Clay strode towards the boy and brought the head of his tomahawk to bear on the diminutive skull, in a vicious downward arc.
 

Clay yanked the blade from the repulsive form, returning it to his belt.

"... Clay... I'm sorry... I just couldn't..." Melanie started, finding the display before her to be entirely heartbreaking.

Clay too had not been unaffected by the brutal act which had just been committed by his own hand. Although, unlike Melanie, he did in fact realize that these were no longer people. They were undead and regardless of how distasteful the act had been to him, as long as he drew breath he would not let harm come to Melanie.
 

"They stopped being a boy and his mother, a long time ago Melanie. Now come on. We're almost there. Just two more backyards." Clay said, trying to calm her nerves.