Better Lucky than Good (Records of the Resistance) (23 page)

"Are you sure you're okay?" Clay asked.

"Yah, I'm good." she replied.

Clay gripped her hard by the waist and lifted Melanie into the air, seating her on the counter top they had only seconds before been propped up against.

"Have a seat. I'm going to have a look at the street through the windows. I'm not convinced that you'll be able to haul that pack the entire way back to the car." Clay said.

Leaving Melanie sitting on the counter, Clay began moving from window to window. Peering cautiously through both curtains and blinds, he searched the street for signs of either wandering infected or a means by which they could escape. Several undead were aimlessly wandering the street in front of Clay's home. Although each could be easily dispatched by his tomahawk, Clay was concerned with Melanie's current state should they need to abandon whatever vehicle they would attempt to start.
 

A school bus which had likely been abandoned during the onset of the outbreak, had been parked crookedly on the side of the road. It sat idly across the street and only a few houses down from where they now stood. Although having had been equipped by Tim with a battery booster, Clay recalled clearly what had been said about industrial sized vehicles and the likelihood that their engines would start without the need of a boost.
 

Clay leaned against the window frame, staring through it's glass and into the street. Boosting a car had it's risks. If the car wouldn't start on its own, he would have to lift the hood and supplement the battery. Even that wasn't guaranteed to work and would immediately attract the attention of the infected presently occupying the street. The bus on the other hand would likely start, but there also stood a reasonable chance that it would either be out of gas or missing the keys to the ignition. The engine powering the school bus would be powerful enough that they could drive through any infected barring them from exiting the city. Depending on the condition of Melanie, having now been given some time to rest after her beating; the bus may serve another purpose.

Clay wandered back into the kitchen, where Melanie was in the process of cleaning her face of blood with a damp cloth.

“Well, you feel up to a little excitement?” Clay asked.

Melanie straightened up from her hunched over posture in front of the sink.

“Can you elaborate on what exactly you define as excitement?” she replied, peering slightly over her shoulder towards Clay.

Clay chuckled sarcastically at Melanie’s hesitation to commit to his cryptic proposition, prior to hearing it’s details.

“Well, there’s a bus a few houses down the street from here. I’m not sure if it’s got the fuel to travel or if the keys are still in it...” Clay began.

“Clay, why do we need a bus when a car would do just fine?” Melanie tiredly asked, interrupting Clay while he was still in mid sentence.

“We, don't need a bus. But the people stuck inside that church we snuck past might.” Clay answered.

Having previously been powerless to assist her friends who had been besieged in the farmhouse by a horde of undead, Melanie’s vigour began to renew at the prospect of a victory for the living. Melanie spun to face Clay.

“What do we need to do?” she asked.

Both Clay and Melanie readied themselves at the front door of the house, preparing to enact their hazardous scheme. Each were systematically tightening the harnesses which secured their bags to their backs, and slinging the newly acquired rifles in their soft-sided cases across their shoulders.

"I'm going to have a hard time shooting with this rifle across my chest..." Melanie warned.

"Don't worry about it. Just get the bus started. If you can't get it started, then get off the bus and we're taking off on foot. We've only got one shot at getting this right. When I open the door, move as fast as you can directly towards the bus." Clay said, drawing his tomahawk and tightening his grip around his brass knuckles.

The moment Melanie nodded, Clay threw the front door open. Melanie was first to exit, running as fast as she could while being weighted down as heavily as she was. Clay kept pace with her, slightly to the rear. The instant they had passed into the street, every wandering infected within hearing distance turned towards them, being alerted by the sound of the door. As they ran, their packs bounced awkwardly on their backs making it difficult to maintain their balance. Clay attempted to calculate the approaching undead as they sprinted towards the bus.
 

"The doors are open!" Mel shouted.

"Get inside and look for the keys!" Clay replied.

As Melanie attempted to make her entrance into the bus, the rifle slung horizontally across her chest caught on the frame of the door; slamming hard into her body.

Clay was right behind her, dropping his cargo at their feet and moving to assist Mel with her equipment.

"Just get inside, I'll toss this shit in after you." he said hurriedly, lifting the strap of the rifle case over her head.

Melanie lowered her pack to the ground and hopped up the steps and into the drivers seat, followed closely behind by her equipment which was being heaved up the stairs by Clay.

Melanie landed heavily into the driver’s seat of the bus. "The keys are still in the ignition!" she yelled.

Clay pitched his own equipment up the steps, leaving him standing with only his choice weapons.

“Then, what are you waiting for?" Clay asked, turning to face the oncoming undead.

Having spun just in time to catch an infected at arms length, Clay darted to his right barely avoiding the commencement of its attack. Clay countered by driving his tomahawk into the side of his attackers head, splitting its ear horizontally in two.

Clay heard the loud Diesel engine of the school bus struggling to turn over behind him, as three more undead fell upon him. Ducking under the attack of the first, Clay quickly returned to his upright posture and grabbed the next closest infected by the shirt. With a quick jerk, he was able to throw the woman off balance and drove his shin into the back of her legs; sending her crashing downward onto her back. With an upward stroke of his edged weapon, his tomahawk cut upward through the chin of the third infected. Although not being a fatal blow, it was enough to stop the dead man in his tracks. Clay freed his tomahawk from the man's jaw by spinning his body a complete three-hundred and sixty degrees. Utilizing his momentum, he instantly followed up his initial strike with a killing blow. His first attacker came at him again, throwing a clumsy punch, aimed poorly at his head. Clay easily leapt safely out of the man's reach and in turn lopped his arm off just below the elbow. Stepping forward and quickly delivered a brass back hand; his attack exposing the man's neck to a strike from his tomahawk. The heavy blow that followed cut deep enough to bite spine, dropping the infected instantly; his head grotesquely attached by only a few inches of muscle tissue. The woman whom he had grounded earlier was only just getting back to her feet, being bent fully over with her palms on the ground. Clay capitalized on the circumstance by driving his tomahawk into the back of her head, the force of the blow driving her face into the pavement.

To his relief, Clay heard the bus' engine finally start. With his tomahawk deeply imbedded into the back of an undead skull and more infected being alerted to their presence by the loud engine, Clay had little choice but to draw his side arm.

Quickly emptying the small caliber handgun's magazine into the encroaching group of infected, Clay managed to land enough head shots to slow their approach. With the fall of each undead, he managed to generate a domino effect of sorts with the nearby companions of the killed, tripping over their tumbling comrades. With the emptying of the weapon’s magazine, the slide locked in its open position, indicating to Clay that it was time to move. He stood on the back of the woman's neck, whose head had retained his tomahawk. Jerking it free like a gruesome sword having had been magically entrapped in a stone, Clay bolted from the scene.
 

Leaping into the bus, Clay exasperatedly yelled, "Drive!".

With the crank of a nearby lever, Melanie closed the bus' door behind Clay. The machine jerked and the transmission ground before Melanie eventually found the gear. Clay ejected the magazine of his pistol from its port within the gun's grip, issuing directions to Melanie as he thumbed ammunition back into it.

In less then two minutes they were speeding towards the church, the amassed horde quickly becoming visible through the wide windshield.

"Okay Clay, what do you want me to do?" Melanie asked, a hint of panic in her voice as they quickly neared the fleshy blockade.

Clay placed both of his hands on the back of the seat in front of him, tightening his grip.

"I want you to speed up." he said calmly.

The engine revved harder in response to Melanie pressing the accelerator to the floor. It appeared to them as they looked through the windshield, that the infected hadn't even realized their approach until it was too late. Their heads turning as the bus slammed into the flank of the massive horde congregating around the front doors of the church.
 

In an instant, the bus which had once harmlessly transported children to school was turned into a seven ton, diesel powered missile. The horde, whose ranks stretched from the front doors of the church to well across the wide street, was effectively cut in two. The heavy machine's high rate of speed and massive weight decimated any undead who were unlucky enough to come into direct contact with it. Those who were not turned into garish piles of torn flesh and shattered bone, were tossed aside and into the air; landing within the dense groups of infected on either side of the bus. For a few seconds, anyone observing within the horde would have felt the rain of shattered and torn bodies crashing down on their heads. The bus' windshield could endure no more punishment, cracking as the severed limbs and torsos unrelentingly pelted it.
 

Amidst the repulsive sound of metal contacting meat bag, Melanie heard the voice of Clay yelling, "Brake! HARD!".

Melanie removed her foot from the accelerator and slammed it back down onto the brake pedal, sending her into the steering wheel as the huge machine skidded to a halt.
 

"Reverse! Reverse! Drive us right into the doors!" Clay yelled, only after picking himself up off the floor.

Grinding the gears again, Melanie finally found home with the shifter. The engine revved high again as Melanie began to reverse the bus, wheeling it around in a ninety degree turn. The innumerable cluster of undead receiving further punishment at the hands of Melanie. The slower speed of the bus having a much different, though no less lethal effect on the undead. The suspension swayed and bumped as the infected who weren't fatally struck, were pulled beneath the many wheels of the vehicle. The windows which had only moments prior, afforded the occupants of the bus a full three-hundred and sixty degree view, were quickly becoming painted with gore.

"Straight! You're headed right for it!" Clay shouted, stumbling his way towards the rear emergency exit of the bus.

The heavy doors were typical of a cathedral style church, being both taller and wider than the bus. The suspension bounced heavily as Melanie began to reverse up the wide concrete ramping that lead up the church's entrance.
 

Clay dove between two seats at the rear of the bus, yelling "IMPACT!" at the top of his lungs.

The monstrous seven ton machine collided with the thick wooden cathedral doors, splintering them upon contact. Melanie had been hovering her foot above the brake pedal for just this moment, pinning it to the floor the instant she felt the bus smash it's way inside the building.
 

For a moment, the scene fell under a blanket of near silence. Clay laid on the floor in the back of the bus, hearing only the raining of splintered wood and the settling of other unknown debris. The chaotic moments which had transpired only seconds before, felt as though they were a distant memory during the quiet.
 

The moment however, was short lived. The repulsive sounds of the undead again became audible as the infected in the street enveloped the bus. The massive vehicle swayed from side to side as the weight of the horde pushed against it's flanks.

"Clay, you okay?" Melanie shouted towards the back of the bus, having to yell over the noise of the horde.

"Yah, I'm good!" Clay replied.

"You better hurry! If they get on the hood, this windshield won't keep them out for long!" Melanie said, standing to her feet and retrieving her rifle from under one of the seats.

Clay raised himself up from the floor of bus and repositioned in front of the rear emergency exit. Grasping the emergency exit release lever, he took a deep breath and jerked it hard. Despite the damage sustained during the crash, it was still operational and the door swung into the interior of the church. Clay drew his side arm from its leg holster and leapt down into the building's foyer.
 

Raising his weapon to eye level, Clay began to slowly walk into the main hall of the church.

"Hello?" Clay shouted.
 

Instead of a vocal response to his hail, a scuffling echoed throughout the hollow building. Clay began to consider if he had made a mistake in coming here and that the occupants who had been the focus of the horde outside may have already expired.