Dead Tropics (19 page)

After ten minutes of battling the current and uneven ground in the dark, I was completely exhausted. I was beginning to doubt whether I could make it all the way to the bridge. I focused on placing one foot ahead of each other, blocking out the rain, the moans and the occasional scream.

Finally, the dark structure of the bridge took shape before me. With shaking limbs, I pulled myself up the bank under the bridge. I lay there for long minutes, trying to catch my breath and clear my head. When I could stand up without falling, I crept cautiously out from under the bridge. The bridge and road appeared to be clear.

Forcing myself into a jog, I headed home, keeping to the middle of the road so I wouldn't be caught unawares. I reached the entrance to our street without trouble. Hiding in the long grass at the side of the road, I tried to work out the best approach to take. I could see shapes wandering up and down the street, milling around the lit homes or standing still, just waiting.

If I stuck to the ditch beside the road, I decided, I could make it to our driveway undetected and then I should be able to outrun the zombies up the steep driveway without any problem. Sighing, I I forced myself to move. The ditch was less than two feet deep but, lined by long grass, it should be enough to allow me to escape notice at night. Hunching over, I crept up the ditch towards our house, keeping a close eye on the zombies shambling nearby. They did not appear to see me, thankfully, although I had a moment of sheer panic as one wandered right up to the ditch. It stood a mere two feet away from me, staring uphill. I held my breath as I crouched, frozen, at its feet. Finally, it turned and stumbled down the street.

Releasing a shaky breath, I continued my journey. The house sat silent and dark at the top of the steep driveway. It seemed so close and yet so far away. A zombie stood at the foot of the driveway while another stumbled across the sloped garden. The angle seemed to be difficult for them to negotiate. Even as I watched, the zombie tripped and tumbled down the slope.

With a deep breath, I jumped up and charged up the steep driveway. It was impossible to move as fast as I wanted to but I trusted that I was still moving faster than the zombies. My calves burned but I pushed through the pain, focusing on making it to the stairs under the house before the zombies in the garden did.

As I reached the house and prepared to climb over the barrier blocking the stairs, I thought I saw a shadow move beside it. Pausing, I pulled out the gun and aimed nervously into the shadows. Multiple shadows shifted and formed into three, no, four, corpses lunging at me. Panicked, I fired a shot wildly, missing completely. Backing up, I found myself pressed against the side of the car. Trying to still my shaking hands, I took another shot and hit one of the zombies in the face. As he collapsed, the other three surrounded me.

As their hands grabbed at me, shots rang out repeatedly. Instinctively, I closed my eyes as blood and matter from the zombies' heads splattered on me.

"Had enough exercise tonight?" A dry voice asked. I opened my eyes to see Mike leaning over the barricade, looking at me with a familiar raised brow. I resisted the surprising urge to fly gratefully into his arms and settled for scowling at him disdainfully as I clambered over the wooden barrier.

8

The rain poured down in force all night, blocking all sight and sound. As the new day dawned, the deluge lessened once more, revealing the full extent of the damage done during the night. It looked like a tornado had cut through the street. Up and down the street, the houses lay open and broken. No window remained intact, doors were broken off their hinges, pets lay torn on the lawns. It was a scene of devastation.

Peering through the curtains in the living room, I spotted familiar faces amongst the zombies. Although her face was torn beyond recognition, I recognised the familiar plump figure of Mrs. Branson standing blankly in front of our mailbox. My heart seized for a moment as I spotted the slim figure of Jasmine staggering up our driveway. Blood marred half her face but her long fair hair made her instantly recognisable. Poor, poor child.

All through the night, zombies had gradually made their way to our property. Now, with the lessening rain, I could hear the continuous moans of the horde shuffling beneath the house. Nervously, I wondered how long the barricade would hold.

Looking down the street, I could see that the only other house that seemed to interest the zombies was the boys' home down the end. There were a dozen or so zombies gathered around it. I wondered if that meant there were still people alive in that house. I hoped so. With their cyclone shutters down, maybe they could withstand the zombies until help arrived.

Turning away, I looked at my group, scattered around the living room. The babies sat in front of yet another dvd as we tried to keep them as quiet as possible. My heart contracted at the sight of Sarah lying quietly on a beanbag beside her brother. The medication was keeping the pain under control making her groggy but she seemed to have accepted the loss of her arm with a complacency that only a three year old could display.
If only her mother could accept it as easily.

Blinking, I looked away. Emma and Kaye sat on the sofa behind the babies, talking softly as they drank coffee. On the other sofa, the men and the teenagers were gathered around the CB which had been placed on the coffee table. Jessie sat on the floor near them, playing with Phoebe the chihuahua.

As I moved to join them, I heard a sound from outside. I paused, frowning. It came again, a sound like a kitten's cry.

Michele looked up. "What was that?"

"I'm not sure but I think it was someone calling out." I slid the security door open and stepped outside onto the verandah nervously. Although I understood intellectually that the zombies already knew we were here, it still seemed like I was running around in front of them, waving a flag saying 'come and eat me'. Mike moved up beside me, a quiet and comforting presence. The others followed.

The cry came again, weak and thin. I saw that the zombies were starting to head towards Jodie's house.

"It must be Skye!" Michele said excitedly. "She's still alive!"

"Whoever it is needs help." Kaye spoke quietly, a frown on her slender face.

I met Mike's eyes. The urge to charge out and rescue the girl was powerful but after my last outing, I knew how quickly the situation could become dangerous. Our group had to come first. I just had to keep reminding myself of it.

"It just mightn't be possible." I hurried on as I saw the protest on her lips. "Maybe if we can come up with a low risk plan..."

I chose to ignore the ironic lift of Mike's brow.
Do as I say, mister, not as I do
.

"We need a distraction." Lucas offered, dark hair as rumpled as ever. Michele shot him an admiring look.
Oh boy.
"Something that will draw the zombies away from the house."

Mike nodded thoughtfully. "Good thinking, Lucas. How fast are you? Maybe you can run down the street and draw them away that way."

Emma gasped in outrage.

I rolled my eyes and gave Mike a shove. "He's teasing, Emma."

She sniffed as the big man grinned at her. "Haha."

The faint cry came again, drawn out and filled with pain and fear. I closed my eyes, trying to remain detached, even though I knew it was futile. There was no way to block out the cries of another human being in need, especially a child.

"We could place a radio in one of the other houses." Lucas suggested. "At maximum volume, it would act like a beacon."

"The Bransons have a surround sound system." I offered. "Not that I have a clue how to operate it."

Lucas interjected eagerly. "It would only take me two secs to work it out."

Emma stepped forward angrily. "No, Lucas! I won't allow it."

The boy looked at her in annoyance. "You're my sister, not my mum. You don't get to tell me what to do."

As Emma opened her mouth to retort, I held up my hand. "We're not going to let you put yourself in unnecessary danger, Lucas."

"I'll do it." Kaye interrupted. "I've had to listen to Billie Holiday so many times at afternoon tea over there that I could probably operate that system blindfolded."

I didn't like the thought of Kaye being outside one little bit. It was one thing to place myself in danger's way but the thought of anyone else leaving our little sanctuary sent me into a panic. I wanted to stamp my feet and say 'no way!' but that reedy, frightened girl's voice was impossible to ignore. If it were my daughter, I would want someone to help her.

"As far as I can tell, all the zombies are gathered either around our house or the boys' house down the road, so as long as you're careful and stay out of sight, you should be alright." I said reluctantly.

Kaye looked so slender and fragile; I had to remind myself of the way she had delivered a kick-ass blow to Roy yesterday.

Mike picked up a black backpack. "Lucas, you and Michele will be lookouts."

He pulled out two walkie-talkies. "It will be your job to give us the heads up if we are about to have unwanted company."

The boy looked a little mollified as Mike pressed a walkie-talkie into his hand. Mike looked down at me, square jaw grinding yet another piece of gum into submission. "As soon as we get the all-clear, I'll head out the back door into the forest and circle around to the girl."

I raised my brow defiantly. "
We'll
circle around to the girl." Like I said, it was easier to place myself in harm's way than sit by and watch others do it.

Mike nodded expressionlessly. Still, there was something in his eyes that made me think I had reacted exactly as he had expected. It irritated me for some reason. I guess no girl likes to be predictable.

Through the kitchen window, I watched anxiously as Kaye slipped out the back door into the nearby forest line. In her dark clothes, she slipped unnoticed through the trees until she was right behind the Bransons' back door.

As I waited for her signal with mounting anxiety, Mike appeared and silently handed me a pistol. I tucked it into my belt beside my trusty parang. To think I had once thought the knife was only good for chopping chickens. To my immense relief, the sweet sound of Billie Holliday suddenly blasted over the street.

"Sorrow has taken you

Angels have no thought

of ever returning you

Would they be angry

if I thought of joining you?"

I shivered at the gloomy words.

As hoped, the music started drawing the zombies towards it. The zombies that had been in Jodie's house stumbled back into the streets. Quite a few of the ones under our house shambled across the steep landscaped lawn. I saw, with relief, Kaye darting back into the forest as zombies made their way up the Bransons' front lawn.

"Time to go." Mike murmured. I nodded, following him to the back door. Michele grabbed my arm, eyes sharp with concern.

"Please be careful, mum."

"Don't worry, honey. See, I'm armed to the teeth." I patted my weapons reassuringly. "Anyway, if I have to, I'll throw Mike in the zombies' way to save myself."

My daughter rolled her eyes but smiled, reassured, anyway.

"Nice." Mike muttered as he opened the back door. "I'll be sure to watch my back."

I grinned at him. "It'd
only
be as a last resort, Mike!"

We made it through the forest and across the road at the bottom of the hill without detection. Then we slipped down to the riverbank and made our way through the tree line to the back of Jodie's house. The backyard seemed clear so we ran across and pressed ourselves against the back wall.

"We're going to have to be quick." Mike murmured. "Once they realise there aren't any people in the Bransons' house, the zombies will be heading back here."

I nodded and peered through the broken back window. It was one of the girl's bedrooms and looked like a train wreck.

The girl's incoherent cries were much clearer now. I tracked it to the garage.
Great
. With the roller doors down, the only way to get to the garage was through the house. From the look in Mike's eyes, I knew he had realised the same thing. Cautiously and as quietly as I could, I climbed over the windowsill into the bedroom. It was likely that some zombies had stayed behind to find the source of the cries.

Once Mike was inside, we walked as lightly as we could through the corridor. Mike braced an arm across my chest abruptly. Catching my eye, he pointed at the room on the left. A quick glance revealed a zombie standing in the middle of the room, staring through the window. We slipped past the open door with all the stealth we could muster.

We found the garage door next to the kitchen. At least we assumed it was the garage door as a zombie was banging its hands against it, futilely. Pulling a thin knife out, Mike slipped up behind the creature and pinned it against the door. Before it could emit a sound, he efficiently plunged the knife through its eye. Immediately, its body slumped down, allowing Mike to quietly lower the body to the floor.