Dead World (Book 2): Headed North (8 page)

15

Hardin, Montana

A loud knock comes on the door. Peter stirs groggily reaching up to wipe his eyes. He sits up in bed and the knock sounds again.

“Coming,” he says to the wall. He rolls out of bed pulling on his jeans as he heads to the door. How many damn times am I going to get woken up this way, he thinks, heading to the door. He swings it open and the same young man from a few nights ago stands before him. His facial hair has grown out and he looks disheveled and rough.

“Sir,” he snaps a quick salute. “We have some trouble.”

“Of course we do,” Peter mumbles under his breath. His joy at finally being able to relax last night replaced by the hellish world he is in once again. It never lets up.  “What happened?” he asks louder.

“It looks like they are coming from Billings,” the boy says, worry lacing his voice.

“Billings?” Peter asks, connecting the dots.

“Our sentries saw them coming in from the west sir. It must be every damn person that was in Billings. At least a couple hundred thousand of them moving toward us like a swarm.”

Peter would question the boy’s sanity. He would say that he is a fool to believe such a thing, but the obvious fear in his eyes gives him a sinking feeling in his gut. It makes sense after all. If they group up wherever there is food then why not here. Where he put the biggest damn meal those things are likely to get.

With dawning realization it hits him that he hasn’t saved anyone. His wall isn’t going to keep those things out. It may have bought them a few weeks at best, but if anything, it has turned them from a safe refuge into a can of sardines. Just ready to be opened up.

“Let’s get to the walls and pray to god they hold.” Peter says, throwing his coat over his bony shoulders. His breath forms small clouds in the icy air, and a layer of snow covers everything. The snow mixes with ash to create an ugly slush. Hope hangs by a thread in his heart as he wills them to be able to hold on long enough for the real cold to get here and freeze those bastards over.

They make it to the wall in a hurry. What looked like a lot of bodies pressed against the barrier earlier is now a sea of dead faces. They are all pressing against the wall. The weight would be enough to break it but the dead don’t know to use leverage. They are simply packing in waiting for an opening.

16

Outside Hardin, Montana

Daniel taps the brake as he approaches Hardin. The first thing he notices that sends alarms racing through him is that there is smoke coming from inside the city. Everything should have burnt out by now. The dead don’t light fires. And so he hopes beyond hope that could mean there are people living here.

The sun is fully up now, moving towards mid-morning. Everyone is awake and they stare at the smoke realizing what it means.

“There must be people in there,” Isaiah says what they are all thinking.

“Why would they have fires lit?” Valentine asks, “Won’t that draw the dead?”

“I think it will,” Daniel replies. They are still a dozen miles outside the city but the only way to continue north is going through. The highway resumes on the other side of the city where they can make the final leg of the journey to Canada. Otherwise they would have to backtrack a few hundred miles.

“Well, what do we do?” Sasha asks from the back seat.

“I think we have to go through,” Isaiah says, tracing a finger across the map. “I don’t think we can go around.”

“Besides if there are people maybe they will know more about the safe zones,” Valentine adds.

The smell of charred meat drifts towards them and they all wrinkle their noses. The smoke grows thicker with every passing minute, and the smell of burning bodies is harsh.

“What if something bad is happening?” Chloe asks, her childish innocence overriding her fear for the moment. “They might need our help.”

“We shouldn’t risk it,” Isaiah says, “Even if people in there need our help, we would be putting ourselves in too much danger.” 

“Where would we be if those people hadn’t helped us with the rifle?” Valentine counters. “We can’t just leave these people if they need help.”

“What can we even do?” Isaiah counters.

“Well we can’t just sit by, and the only way through is right through the town,” Daniel says, “let’s just take it slow. We can see what is happening when we get a little closer.” He turns the engine again and pulls forward heading deeper into the city. They pull off on Old US 87. There are a few wrecks but much less than they have seen in other cities.

Old US 87 wraps around into town and the follow it heading towards Hardin proper. The smoke grows thicker in the sky and the closer they get the sound of the moaning grows louder, a constant hum in the back of his skull.

“It hasn’t been this bad since Denver,” Isaiah says.

***

Peter stares in horror as the flames grow close to the wall. He isn’t sure how it started. The flames were growing out of control before they could react. There was rumor that one of the nervous soldiers had thrown a Molotov into the horde. He thought that maybe it would burn them off. The idiot didn’t take into account that the dead wouldn’t run. They would stay so close to each other that the fire would continue to spread and then when it got to the zombies next to the wall it would light the wall on fire.

But now the conflagration is engulfing the wall eating up the dry wood hungrily. The inferno burns just as cruelly back into the hordes that wait on the other side, but as if they can sense the weakness and with no fear of the licking flames they are grouping around forcing their weight against the weakening wall.

The snap and pop of the burning wood and the groan of it straining against their weight fills him with dread. This is going to be the end.

“We need to get these people out of here now!” he yells to Terry who is watching dumbfounded. His rifle hanging at his side as the wall is consumed. There was no contingency plan for this.

Terry turns to look at him a grim expression in his eyes. They knew this was going to come. Maybe not in a blaze of flame but eventually they would run out of time. None of them thought it would go this fast though.

Screams echo around them as people flee the burning walls. Chaos falls on the group of survivors. Holding the walls is pointless and there are only minutes at most before the barrier collapses all together. In a horde of stampeding feet they fall back into the buildings.

Peter watches it all in mute horror unable to do anything, unable to take control of the madness. From where he is on the roof he can see everything unfolding. His people fall back through the houses, running through the streets screaming. No organization whatsoever. All the training they had done the past month out the window, useless when the real threat happened.

“We need to run,” He says again to Terry, grabbing him by the arm. Terry snaps his head around, back in the moment. He nods his head and turns pulling the rifle to his shoulder. He fires into the writhing mass of burning bodies.

Several of the zombies fall to the ground as the shots punch through their skulls. The intensity of the flames claim many more as it cooks off their brain matter and leaving behind charred husks. So many zombies are consumed by the flames but from his vantage point he can see that there is no end to them. They stretch back for miles in an endless horde, pressing against the fence with fervor.

Peter turns them both around and runs to the edge of the roof swinging down onto the ladder and heading towards the ground. It is useless trying to combat the dead. There is no winning this fight. He hears the loud snap of wood and then a blistering rush of heat as the wall collapses from the press of bodies.

The zombies press themselves into the collapsed section lunging over each other and their own desiccated kind to get at the fresh meat inside. The blackened timber and scraps of metal shoved aside like a cracked floodgate. Now that the bodies have forced an opening it will only get larger.

Terry pulls his pistol out and fires into the mass of burning bodies. Their flesh melts off like wax, as he drops them with well-placed shots. Several of the survivors stay to try and defend the wall. They unload their magazines into the zombies dropping a few but not even denting the horde that spills in.

The dead move with fervor, as if the meal at hand has awakened them. Their moan is deafeningly loud.

Terry fires as fast as he can still pulling back on the trigger after his gun has run dry. He doesn’t even hear the sound of the click of his empty magazine as he pours everything he has into the horde. Peter grabs his arm and whips him around screaming into his face to run.

They turn and flee, chased by zombies still aflame. The school is their best bet.

Smoke pours up from the burning wall and the flood of undead in thick roiling black clouds. The rancid smell sticks in his mouth like ash, so disgusting that it is nearly enough to make him throw up. He clutches his gun tightly as the bile rises in his throat.

The undead swarm everywhere, pulling people down by sheer weight of numbers. The few brave souls, or maybe they were just fools, who tried to guard the wall are dead now and there is nothing to even slow the tide.

Peter watches as a man grips the rifle to his shoulder. He fires off rounds into the crowd and brings down a few zombies. But most of his bullets just fly into the thick of them doing no damage. They swarm him and he swings the rifle like a club trying to batter them away. It is useless though. In moments he is surrounded and pulled under them. The screams continue on for a long while as he is slowly eaten alive.

Peter whips around trying to figure a way out of their situation. He spots an alley and pulls Terry into it. Terry is reloading his rifle and cursing at their damned luck. It might buy them a couple minutes at best. The dead rush by, and the screams of the living echo in the confined space.

The drone of the thousands of undead throats moaning to each other threatens to overwhelm Peter. He can feel himself slipping, his sanity on the edge of an abyss, these things threatening to pull him down with them. His heart races against his chest so hard he fears it might break.

Terry’s gunshot so close to him startles him back into the present.

“We need to move,” he yells to Terry. It is too late for them to save anyone. Right now it is the best they can do to get themselves safe. The High School is where they stacked a lot of the food supplies. Where most of the weapons are. And the only place with doors that are reinforced and small enough to hopefully hold out against this relentless mob of bodies.

“Where are we going to go?” Terry asks sighting down the rifle and firing at a zombie who just turned the corner into their shaded alley. The thing jerks back, its momentum arrested by the bullet. Brain matter and bits of bone splatter across the wall behind the corpse.

“We need to try to get to the school,” Peter points across the street to where the school is. The dead are everywhere, but it is more or less a straight shot. “It’s maybe a couple hundred yards. We can make it if we just run.”

“You think that’s the best bet?” Terry asks, seeing the hordes of zombies roaming around tearing down people who happen to be in their way.

“We can’t just wait here,” Peter says, “It’s the only option.”

The sounds of cars revving in the distance can be heard. Maybe some of them think to make it out. Peter tried the streets before, driving through that many bodies will never happen. Maybe if they had a tank they could just roll through the corpses, but that is as helpful wishing they were on Mars, impossible to the fullest extent of the word.

“On my cue we are going to run for it,” Peter says. Terry looks back at the crowd once but then nods.

“Whatever you say, sir.”

***

The sounds of screaming and gunshots fill the air. Daniel drove them through Old US 84 and before he knew it they were surrounded. The zombies pour out between buildings and alleys. There is a swarm of them ahead. Daniel looks in the rearview mirror and sees that they have closed in from all sides.

Sasha twists around in her seat and gasps when she sees that they have no way out. “What do we do?” she cries.

“Oh shit,” Isaiah says, realizing what has happened at the same time. From outside the city it was impossible to see how many there were. Daniel looks around frantic, trying to figure a way out. The dull slap of a dead hand on the glass beside his face makes him jump. He presses the accelerator as far forward as he can, forcing the car into motion. It jumps with a growl, the full weight of the Humvee loaded down with supplies.

“Hold on!” he yells. He gets it up to fifty before he hits the thinnest part of the crowd. The vehicle slams through the bodies sending them flying. He careens through the mob fighting with the steering wheel as he rolls over corpse after corpse. The wet meat-bag thud of the bodies rolling under the tires is sickening.

Chloe is crying as Sasha tries to cover her eyes. Valentine holds the door, white knuckled terror in her eyes. They lurch over the bodies draining off speed. Daniel can feel the tires slipping, their traction lost in the slush and gore. The press is just too thick. He yanks the wheel and turns them into a sidewalk that cuts across to a different street when they see the wall.

A ramshackle collection of plywood and metal sheets topped with barbed wire. Blood and viscera coat the tires of the heavy car and Daniel feels the car losing control. He wrestles to stay in place but it is a losing battle. The Humvee slides sideways into the wall, collapsing a large section and dragging bodies behind them.

Inside the wall is chaos. Living people run from chasing dead. A fire rages in the distance coating the sky in oily black smoke. In the rearview mirror Daniel can see zombies pouring in through the shattered barrier. But there is finally a little space for Daniel to maneuver.

Seeing the opening Daniel slams on the gas again and launches the car out of the crowd into the space beyond. Boarded houses race past as he hurtles away from the crowd.

His heart is pounding as they race through the crowded streets. With a sinking realization he counts how many survivors there were here. It must have been hundreds, and the living are too easy to spot. They move too quickly. They move like they are afraid. Soon there will be no more living here. Daniel knows they need to get out now.

“What do we do?” Valentine asks, seeing the people. “What is happening here?”

“They must have got in,” Daniel says hope seeping out of his voice. The scene before him unfolds with rapid chaos. Zombies collapse on their position from behind and in front of them. Daniel looks around quickly. The street sign nearest them says 5
th
. He slams on the accelerator and rockets them forward again.

They fly past boarded up houses and other defensive positions. These people were here to stay. Now it is little more than a corral. The dead have them trapped, a meal for the picking. In front of them Daniel sees where the smoke was coming from. Buildings are on fire and through the heat haze Daniel can barely make out swarming bodies, the dead pouring into the place from another section of the wall.

Gunshots are going off all around them now.

“How many people were here?” Isaiah asks. There must have been hundreds from the sounds of the gunfire. Daniel whips his head around the different sections of broken road. Zombies are everywhere now flooding into the walled off refuge.

A man with haunted eyes runs out in front of the Humvee and waves them down. He holds a rifle in his hands like he knows how to use it. Behind him another man is crouched, firing into the bodies moving towards them. Daniel yanks on the wheel and pulls them into a school yard. The place is a veritable fortress, completely walled off.