DEAD: Confrontation (14 page)

They reached the fence and crawled through. Looking around, Kevin began to angle them
towards the direction of where he was pretty sure the highway would be. The sun came out and brought on a whole new set of problems as the glare from the snow started to become too much for their eyes to handle.

Sunglasses. Something so simple that could make all the difference in the world right now and not only did he not have a pair, it was unlikely that they would be coming across any in the near future. His eyes were beginning to water, and he was squinting tighter than Clint Eastwood.

Time stopped having any meaning as they continued on. But every time he looked around to see if the coast was clear, dark shapes danced in the watery distance that his vision allowed him to see. There was no actual clear path, simply ones that offered the most distance between them and the relentless undead.

As the sun reached its zenith, Kevin felt cramps threatening to render his legs useless. He knew that he would fall the m
oment that he stopped for more than a second. On multiple occasions they came within yards—sometimes just a few feet—of one or more zombies. He was no longer leading an attempt to escape, he truly believed that he was simply putting off their inevitable deaths.

More than once he glanced at the girl beside him. Her face showed nothing. No happiness, no sign of the exhaustion that was threatening to drop him in his tracks. For all of the fuss that she had made back in the farmhouse, she was silent and seemed to be able to maintain this pace forever.

A fresh wave of guilt slammed into him and threatened to buckle his knees. Despite the fact that it had been her carrying on that initially brought the undead on them, she now looked to be holding up better than he was as they continued on just managing to stay a few steps ahead of the undead as the snow became an unwitting equalizer.

***

The relative darkness of the empty Walmart made it easy for Kevin to hide his expression. Why couldn’t Darrin just shut up and mind his own business?

“I just don’t see how you can abandon them, sending your mom and sister up into the woods while you plan to head hal
fway across the country,” Darrin’s voice carried easily enough from a few rows over as the pair continued to fill shopping carts with whatever they could find.

“Why is everybody so worried about
my
family? It’s not like you all are calling your relatives for this little trip,” Kevin snapped.

“Mike’s dad is a cop and hasn’t been heard from since the third day, and his brother is in the Air Force stationed in Germ
any. Cary is a flake and still thinks this is a game.” Darrin didn’t need to mention that his mom and dad had died in a car wreck two years ago. In fact, it had been Mike’s dad who delivered the news that rainy night. “Your sister is gonna be a handful for your mom, and if we are even sort of right…you are sending them—”

“They’ll be fine,” Kevin hissed, cutting the rest of that statement off. “And I doubt this thing lasts more than a few months. They are someplace safe and I personally stocked the cabin myself. I stock it every year at the end of summer.”

“What about her meds?” Darrin asked.

That question hung in the air. Kevin scowled and headed towards the far end of the store away from Darrin. It was no s
ecret that his sister required certain medications. As if Down’s syndrome had not made life for her difficult enough, she was also diagnosed with diabetes around her seventh birthday.

He knew that his mom was really good about keeping the insulin schedule, but had she remembered to bring everything in all the insanity of the neighbor trying to get in? And how long would the supplies last even if she had brought everything from the house. That stuff was month-to-month as it was
; maybe if he hit a pharmacy on the way out and convinced the guys to swing just a bit off course.

And can you look your sister in the eye and then leave her with all that is going on…all that you know will happen in the coming weeks and months?
a voice in his head taunted.

Kevin took a deep breath. This was about survival. If this were a movie, he would be the leading candidate for the story asshole, but it wasn’t and he was going to survive. He thought about a tee shirt he owned. It read,
If the zombies do come…I’m tripping you
. Funny thing was, he had bought that shirt pretty sure that it accurately described his thoughts on the subject.

***

Up ahead, he spied something that took his mind several moments to identify as a wall of cars that had been piled to create a barricade. His fatigue had reached such extremes that his mind could not ferret out just why that was so important. Still, he trudged on towards that wall of vehicles, certain that it meant something, and that
something
was important if not actually beneficial.

Valarie was the first to actually notice the approaching fi
gures heading their way. Twice she tugged Kevin’s arm to get his attention. Finally she simply stopped and yelled his name at the top of her lungs.

“Huh?” Kevin stopped and looked around.

He looked back at Valarie who was pointing towards the wall of vehicles off in the distance. Kevin turned and saw the dozen or so dark shapes heading his way. He looked over his shoulder. The dead were still coming at their slow-but-constant pace.

They were trapped.

6

Catastrophic Loss

So many thoughts go through your mind when you know that you are about to die; every moment that you wasted on stupid things instead of spending time with friends and loved ones, all the choices that you made…that were wrong, things you wish you would have said to those that you care about, things you wish you would have said to people who pissed you off, some of it is pretty trivial, but the overwhelming feeling is that you didn’t make the most of your life.

At least that was going through my mind as I saw the sha
dow creeping across what I assumed would be my final resting place. Well, at least until I got up and started eating people.

“This sucks,” I whispered.

I tried to move my left arm, but it was useless. My right arm was fine, but fighting off a zombie is more of a full-body experience. Sure, I wouldn’t go down without doing everything in my power to survive, but I just didn’t see how this would pan out any other way than me ending up dead. Oh yeah, and then there was the shootout taking place all around me. I never realized that you could actually hear bullets whizz past.

I heard the crunch of the snow as death approached.
My right hand fumbled around for any weapon that I could lay my hands on. I found the handle of an axe that I hadn’t even realized was dangling from my belt. As I worked it free, a figure appeared above me. Of course all I could see was the dark outline.

“Steve?” a familiar voice said.

“Doug?” I managed through the overwhelming relief that almost equalized the pain.

He crouched down and actually seemed to burrow into the snow beside me. He rested a hand on my chest and was giving me a look that took me a moment to decipher: fear.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Umm...” he seemed to struggle with the words. Finally he just nodded to my head and shot a glance to my shoulder.

“Oh,” I sighed, “yeah, I took a good one to the shoulder. The head wound probably looks worse than it is. You know what they say about those.”

“Can you walk?” he asked.

“If you help me to my feet, you better believe it.”

“Okay,” he said with a nod. “Just be careful. We have zo
mbies pretty much on all sides. They are having a hell of a time in this snow, though. The raiders seem to be backing off. I saw Jon and he told me that this group is falling back, but that he thinks this may have only been an insurgence…or something like that. He thinks they are part of a bigger group.”

“Wow, you are full of all sorts of good news,” I mumbled. That seemed to fluster Doug for a moment.

I thought about it and realized that I hadn’t really spent too much time getting to know Doug Coates…or his wife for that matter. They had joined us a while back after a bunch of us basically rescued them from a pack of zombie wolves. But other than the occasional pleasantry and morning greeting, I didn’t really know this guy. Yet, Jon had selected him to be part of the group that stayed behind to fight while the others made a run for it.

“If I help you to your feet, can you walk on your own or do you need my help?” Doug had already dismissed my comment and was back to the business at hand which was survival.

“I am pretty sure I can walk.”

“Okay, then I am going to take off for some trees nearby. DeAngelo is there
and is actually the one who saw you go down and sent me to you.”

I only had a second
to wonder why he hadn’t bothered to come himself. That’s because Doug grabbed my right wrist and yanked me to my feet. I only had another second to marvel at how strong he was before the sound of a rifle and a puff of snow right beside me reminded me that I needed to move my ass.

I was pretty sure that I could not have made it had it not been for Doug clearing the path. As it was, the pain from my shoulder coupled with
the loss of blood, and the fact that my leg was reminding me that it was not entirely healed either, had me moving slowly and with a drunken stagger that rivaled my craziest New Year’s.

Looking around, Doug had not been exaggerating. Zombies were visible
on all sides. A few had come though that opening that I’d created. Others were floundering in what was, in my mind, reminiscent of dinosaurs in the La Brea Tar Pits. Every so often, I spotted a creeper moving across the surface of the snow, but even those were slowly sinking.

My mind flashed back to Emily. I was pretty sure that was how we’d lost her. If we survived this, I would have to pass along that the snow would need to be treated like a mine field from now on.

I passed within just a few yards of three zombies that were up to their waists in the white, frozen quicksand. All of them strained and thrashed about as they reached for me to no avail. It was very difficult not to react and take them down, but they were of almost no consequence, I was in no condition to fight, and there were still people shooting. However, I honestly could not tell who was shooting at whom. If not for the occasional puff of snow exploding nearby, I would almost feel safe.

We reached the trees and I collapsed. Now, to clarify…we had maybe travelled twenty feet! It had seemed like a thousand, but it was really not all that far.

“Man…you scared the crap out of me,” DeAngelo said with obvious relief.

“How so?” I rolled over onto my back and tried my best not to just pass out from the pain.

“If I had to be the one to tell Melisa and Thalia that you didn’t make it…” His voice trailed off and I could tell he was more than just upset about the fact that he might have to be the one to pass on news of my demise. He winced as the tree he was leaning against shuddered from the impact of a bullet. Bringing his rifle to his shoulder, he snugged his eye up to the rubber cup attached to the scope. I heard him take one deep breath and hold it. His rifle roared once…twice.

I waited for another shot, but it was not forthcoming. Not only that, but a strange quiet fell. Eventually I could make out an occasional moan or groan from one of the undead…but the gu
nfire had ceased. We had made it! The big man looked down at me with what I first mistook for a wicked grin.

Then I looked at him closer.
His eyes were already showing the black tracers.

“Dammit, DeAngelo,” I said around the giant lump that had suddenly formed in my throat.

He glanced down to the long rip on his left arm. I was pretty sure he hadn’t just snagged himself on a stray branch or piece of jagged metal.

“Yeah…well if it wasn’t for Jesus…” He took a deep breath and I was pretty sure that the pain he was swallowing had not
hing to do with the visible injury that was going to be his death sentence. “That bastard came out of nowhere just as a pack of those things had trapped me. I was in the trench we had cleared at the edge of the parking lot. Jon had found me and told me get back up to the house. He said that the raiders hadn’t made it up there and that he was pretty sure they were falling back. He wanted me to secure the area and make sure.”

“Jesus had just found me and we were already on our way,” Doug spoke now as DeAngelo closed his eyes and pressed his lips tight in obvious pain. “There were a couple of walkers mil
ling about on the porch. Jesus had me wait while he slipped inside. I heard one shot. When he motioned me inside, there were three bodies. One with her throat cut just in the entry, another pinned to the wall by the fireplace by a big knife, and the third right at the base of the ladder to the crow’s nest. I waited while he went up the ladder. He came down a moment later saying that it looked like whoever these people were, they were backing off, but he said it as he sprinted past me.”

“
He must have seen that I was caught between the two groups of zombies—” DeAngelo started, but Doug cut him off.

“I don’t think so. He kept saying something about how it couldn’t be possible and some stuff in Spanish that made no sense to me…and one name.” Doug shot me a look, but he couldn’t keep eye contact. A chill that had nothing to do with the snow wrapped itself around my heart and threatened to steal my breath.

“Emily,” I breathed.

“But you took her out into the woods.” Doug was giving me a look that I could not read. DeAngelo was a different story alt
ogether.

“You couldn’t do it.” The words were not an indictment. They were stated as a simple fact. When I looked up at the big man, I saw understanding.

“I tried,” was all I could say.

“So that day that you took off…”
DeAngelo started, but he squeezed his eyes shut again and slumped to his knees.

“I took her way out into the woods. When she stopped breathing, I laid her down and waited.” I explained the strange behavior that I’d witnessed in the child-zombies and how I had to know if there might be something left in Emily…if maybe there might be something different with her be
ing a child…hell, I don’t know.

“Was there?” Doug blurted. “Was
there something different?”

“I don’t know,” I said with a shrug.

I thought back to that moment when she climbed to her feet. I hid behind some nearby trees and watched as she seemed to look around. At one point, I had been certain that she was staring right at me. But then she turned and wandered off. I knew as I watched that she was no different. Except for the fact that she was still Emily as far as my heart was concerned and I could not bring myself to end her.
What was one more of them in the big picture of things?
That was the rationale that I used to ease my mind as I had returned home that day.

Any chance that we had of delving deeper into this conve
rsation ended when Jesus seemed to explode from a nearby snow bank. He was about ten feet away and just to our right.

“Run!” he snarled as he bounded towards us.

I got to my feet and was rewarded with the world choosing that instant to simply tilt sideways. At least that is what it felt like. I ended up on my side with snow clogging my mouth and nose as I gasped and sucked it in.

I felt myself lift up and found Jesus’ face right in front of mine. He wasn’t happy.

“You didn’t kill her.”

That was all he said, but he really didn’t need to explain, we both knew just what he was talking about.
My mind reeled. How could she have come back? She had wandered off almost in the exact opposite direction of our location.

“She killed Nickie,
” Jesus was almost touching my nose with his now.

“Oh my God,” Doug moaned.

For just a moment, I felt the exact same way. My weakness had led to the death of another. For so long, I had tried to do everything right for the group. I had tried to be the strong one and make the tough decisions. But the truth remained that I was no leader. I was a survivor. Nothing more.

“Jesus!” Doug screamed.

I felt something brush my leg. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Jesus and I both looked first at Doug, but then our eyes tracked to where he was staring.

DeAngelo.

The big man was on his hands and knees. With one of his enormous hands, he reached out and grabbed Jesus by the leg. What I had felt brush my leg was his arm as it came between us. It was merely luck of the draw (and I will die thinking so…I refuse to believe DeAngelo had any or made any choice). Jesus was the loser as DeAngelo’s hand wrapped around Jesus’ ankle and yanked him from his feet.

The three of us tumbled to the ground with me landing on the very top. I have no idea where DeAngelo bit, but Jesus screamed. I pushed off and barely made it to my feet. That proved even worse as DeAngelo was able to rise up just enough. Had there been no sound, you could have thought that the two men were about to kiss.

There was sound. Lots and lots of sound.

At some point, Doug had decided he had enough and bolted. I looked around and caught just a glimps
e of him vanishing over a hump of white back in the direction that Jesus had come from. Something in my mind was trying to connect, but it was like the first time I had tried to drive a stick shift. I must have missed two or three times trying to get it into gear.

Then Doug screamed.

That was when I realized Jesus had been running
from
that direction. I used a small tree to get all the way up to my feet, fighting the swoon; I knew that if I did not start moving right this second that I would die here. Part of my brain said that maybe I deserved to do just that.

When the snow darkened with shadows, I still stood there. I honestly do not know if it was because I was actually conside
ring the possibility of simply giving up, or if it was because I was weak from blood loss, dazed from the past few minutes, or close to blacking out from the pain in my shoulder.

When the dozen or so zombies stumbled through the ope
ning that Jesus had created, most with fresh smears of blood on their hands and faces, the spell was broken. I pushed away from the tree and plunged back out towards where Doug had rescued me a lifetime ago—at least that is how it felt at the moment.

In my mind, I just told myself,
left foot…right foot…left foot…right foot
. I was doing okay as long as I stayed in our shoveled out paths or in the tracks made by others—living or dead made no difference as long as I did not have to bound through the snow; almost waist deep at the thinnest, but up to shoulder deep in other spots.