Drink in case of Emergency (28 page)

“Besides, if you guys could shoot, we wouldn’t have to worry about biters anyway.”

“But there’s too many to shoot.” Jessica’s voice sounded far off as she stared at the mass of zombies moving slowly toward them.

“Hey!” Scott snapped. “Stay focused. We don’t have to shoot them all, just the ones between us and that truck.”

“Straight line. Maybe twenty or thirty at most. Maybe fifty if they close around us too quickly.” Brooke said as she tipped the bottle of vodka to her lips.

The bottle made two more passes, and there were several gagging noises, as Amy had neglected to grab a chaser when she had grabbed the booze.

“Now does anyone have any questions before we…” Scott gave a quick hiccup, and let out his breath slowly. Standing next to him, Jessica thought she could smell the acrid stench of vomit that he had held in. “before we…” The hiccup seemed to have interrupted his train of thought.

“Before we fuck shit up!” Brooke finished for him. Her statement followed by cheers from the rest of the group. Jessica would have been nervous, were it not for the warmth spreading from her belly, just the same as her friends were experiencing. Before their mad dash began, Jessica had one final coherent thought.

Guns and alcohol are a dangerous combination.

Perfect for the end of the world.

The group began their charge, directly into the thick of the zombies. They formed a loose square. Four on the outside, with Brooke and Justin in the lead, and Amy and Chris taking up the rear. In the middle were Tyler, Jessica and Scott. The plan was that the group would move forward at a brisk walking pace, shooting their way through the crowd. Each time someone on the outside needed to reload, one of the group from the center would rotate out and trade places with them.

             
The plan worked like a charm for the first fifty feet. As they moved forward, the heads of the zombies before them dissolved into a purple mist. It was awkward, climbing over the bodies of the fallen zombies, but there were only a few stumbles, and the group in the middle was ready to steady anyone before they fell.

             
After the first fifty feet, the group was rotating out, when Chris and Justin both stumbled over a zombie that had a bullet hole going through it’s mouth and out the back of it’s head, but still had the audacity to twitch and shudder on the ground. This co-stumble opened up the rear flank for a moment, before Amy and Jessica began firing, closing it quickly.

             
“Hurry!” Tyler shouted from the front of the group. He had Brooke had continued moving forward, unaware of what was happening behind them, until Tyler turned back and saw two of his friends on the ground, while Jessica and Amy were struggling to hold back the swarm of zombies that was closing around them.

             
He was grabbing Brooke to pull her back toward the group, when four zombies closed in behind them, cutting off his line of sight between him and his friends.

             
“We were cut off. Let’s go back.”

             
“We don’t have time, this isn’t working!” Brooke shouted in between shots.

             
Panic was setting in. And Tyler felt it’s icy fingers creeping up his spine as well.

             
“We need another plan!” Brooke shouted. Tyler felt his mind racing, firing rounds at point blank range into the drawn out faces of zombies.

He couldn’t get his brain to slow down enough to form any kind of a plan. Too much was happening. There was nothing they could do. They were all going to die, in a shitty man made canyon in the middle of Iowa.

             
Tyler felt himself giving up. He heard his gun give off a ‘click’ sound instead of a ‘bang’. Part of him wondered how much it would hurt, being eaten alive.  

A lot, most likely.

             
So he closed his eyes, tried to get his life to flash before them. It wasn’t so much a replay, as more of a highlight reel. A quick snapshot of firsts and bests. He remembered birthdays, camping trips growing up. His first kiss with Patricia Raynor, she was not impressed.

He remembered graduating high school and feeling like the whole world was in front of him.  Then college, and again, the whole world was in front of him.

             
Then he saw flashes of half formed memories. Drinking games that Chris had invented in the last few days, arguing politics with Jessica over a bottle of wine, until Amy pointed out that it didn’t matter anymore, as all politicians were dead. Feeling the satisfying pain in his body after fist fighting with a zombie, after an entire life of not punching a single person.

             
His final thought, before he blacked out, was not a memory, but just a face. The face of a young girl, maybe fifteen years old, her smiling teeth covered in braces. Elizabeth. That was her name. Little Lizzy.

             
Tyler found himself sitting in a stiff chair in the middle of a small, dark room that he recognized. There were levers and dials covering a complicated looking control panel. The panel, like the room, was dark, but he could sense that he wasn’t alone.

             
“Wh...Where am I?” He let the question out in a whisper, a little afraid of what his whisper might awaken. He heard a young, female voice respond.

             
“On your way. The same as always.” Tyler felt confusion at the answer to his question.

             
“On my way to where?”

             
“Now, that is a better question.” The voice answered. The owner of the voice leaned forward, and her face was caught in a sliver of sunlight that came through a window to Tyler’s left. It was Elizabeth. Tyler recognized that he was back in the train again. He was dreaming, or was this something else? He remembered being surrounded by zombies.

             
“Am I…” Tyler let out the question that popped into his mind, but Little Lizzy finished it for him.

             
“Dead?” Liz didn’t react to the word, but Tyler felt himself flinch in response to it. “Don’t know...to be honest.” Liz’s gaze turned to the window where the light was coming from, and she fell silent again. Tyler turned to look out the window with her. The sun was just barely visible over the horizon. He couldn’t make out much, but he could see the shadows of trees and fields in the distance. A question came to mind that seemed strange to Tyler, but he felt like he had to ask it.

             
“Is this a sunrise, or a sunset?” Tyler was a little surprised when Liz didn’t answer him. He turned to look at her, but she kept her eyes focused on the scene outside. The sun either setting or rising. Tyler waited for a full ten seconds without any response.

             
“I think it’s a sunrise.” Tyler heard himself say, continuing to watch her face to see how she reacted. But she didn’t, her lips curled into a small smile.

             
Tyler waited for her to say something. For her to give him some kind of direction or cryptic message, but she simply sat and looked at him. Frustrated, Tyler got to his feet and walked the two steps to the window overlooking (what Tyler had decided was) the sunrise. He felt a little tickle at the back of his neck, and an idea of what he should say next.

             
“It’s going to be a good day.” He spoke in almost a whisper, but the words still seemed to hang in the air like a fog. He watched out the window, seeing the sun creep up over the horizon, and the scene before him starting to brighten. He waited for what felt like a minute before Liz responded.

             
“It’s not going to be easy.” Tyler felt himself become more sure of his words.

             
“Nope.” He turned away from the window. “It’s not.”

             
“You might get hurt.”

             
“I might not even survive.” Tyler felt his heart begin to beat faster.

             
“That’s true.” Liz gave a little frown as she spoke, but it went away as she continued. “But if you do, it really looks like it’s going to be a great day.”

             
“A good day to be alive.” Tyler whispered. In his mind, he said goodbye to Elizabeth for the last time.

****

             
It felt like someone was pitching his left shoulder with needle nosed pliers.

             
Tyler opened his eyes, and was confused for a moment when he couldn’t see anything. Just darkness. As he twisted to relieve whatever pressure was on his shoulder, he realized that he couldn’t see anything because someone was on top of him.

             
Tyler pushed hard through his right arm, pushing the body on top of him just far enough for him to spin around and get his legs beneath him. There was no way of knowing just how long he had been out for, but he could still hear Brooke’s handgun going off, so he knew it couldn’t have been for that long.

             
With his feet below him, Tyler was able to push off and rise into a crouching position, pushing away the bodies of zombies that crushed in against him. His mind continued to race, but this time he let it. He didn’t try to formulate a plan, but just reacted to what his instincts told him to do.

             
First, he crouched lower and began to push and shove in the direction of the handgun he heard. With a lower center of gravity, he was easily able to push through and around the five zombies that were between him and Brooke.

             
Brooke was facing away from him, firing into the crowd of zombies that were closing in. Tyler was confused when he saw that she was only firing in two directions, leaving her backside open, and the zombies there were only a foot away now. Tyler continued his crouched charge, barreling into the group and pushing them back.

             
“Brooke! Follow me! Down low!” Tyler shouted as he continued his charge. He paused for only a moment in order to glance back to see that she was following. He saw that she had a few gashes covering her arms, but there wasn’t that much blood, yet.

             
Bite wounds.

             
Tyler remembered his left shoulder and looked down to see it covered in blood as well.

             
One thing at a time.

             
Tyler continued charging forward. He realized it was much easier to move this way through the zombies. When crowded together, they couldn’t see much, and if you crouched low they couldn’t see you at all until you were right in front of them. And they were so slow to react that Tyler was already a few feet past them before they reached for him.

             
This would have been helpful to know two minutes ago, Tyler felt the thought race by before he continued charging forward.

             
“Where are we going? Our friends are back that way!” Brook shouted from behind him. Tyler only shouted one word in reply.

             
“Truck!”

             
Altogether, it probably only took a minute to crouch crawl their way through the zombies to where the dump truck was parked, to Brooke it felt like an eternity. She still had her pistol in one hand, although she couldn’t remember if she had one or two rounds left in the clip.

             
When they pushed their way through the final throng of zombies and reached the truck, Brooke was surprised with how large it was up close. The tires each came up past her waist. She would have marveled at this for longer, but Tyler was grabbing and pulling her to her feet. He pointed and helped her climb up onto the truck and into the back end, which had been tipped back up after depositing its load of zombies.

             
This wasn’t too difficult, she felt cold hands grab at her ankles once or twice, but they were easy to pull away from. In another ten seconds she was pulling herself over the edge and into the hard, metal interior.

             
She was surprised with how cold it felt, despite the fact that it had been full of squirming zombies. She looked up and saw Tyler peek over the edge that she had just fallen over. She expected him to fall in beside her, but he was apparently just checking that she made it safely, before he disappeared again.

             
The interior sides of the dumptruck were sloped, so it was easy to climb up to peer over the edge to check on what Tyler was up to. When she looked, she saw that he had opened up a toolbox that was built into the frame of the truck and pulling out something small and dark. He hefted it in his hand a few times, and Brooke was able to make out that Tyler had found a small sledge hammer.

Father O’Connell watched in the side mirror of the truck as the young group of miscreants began moving through the crowd of God’s chosen. They just couldn’t help themselves, they had to destroy more of God’s good work. He felt himself becoming nervous when they continued coming toward the truck. They were halfway between the wrecked cars and where he sat with the truck idling when he saw them stumble and fall.

Father O’Connell felt glee fill his chest when he saw the crowd of God’s chosen swarm around them. They would be smothered in God’s love. He watched for thirty seconds before he was satisfied the job was complete. His work here was done.

Closing his eyes in prayer, Father O’Connell took a deep breath and waited for God to come and take him as well.

Halfway through his prayer, he felt God begin to take him. A ear-splitting crack rang out and Father O’Connell felt his heart overwhelm with joy. This was it, this was the moment. He could feel a cool breeze cross his cheek, which he knew was impossible, in the stuffy interior of the cab. This was his moment. He felt tears of joy begin to run down his face.

Then a voice called out to him. God was actually speaking to him.

             
“Hey! Fuck you! Guy!”

             
Father O’Connell began to open his eyes as he felt his shirt being grabbed tightly and pulled. Father O’Connell saw that it wasn’t God. It was one of the young men. He had broken in the window and was pulling Father O’Connell from the cab of the truck.

             
With seemingly inhuman strength, Father O’Connell was pulled free and thrown from the truck and onto the pavement of the street. His shoulder struck the ground first, with a loud crack he felt his collarbone break. Father O’Connell could taste blood in his mouth from biting his tongue. His vision was blurry, but he could make out moving shapes, God’s chosen, mingling around him.

             
He was too confused to cry out, to do anything. How could this have happened? Why had God forsaken him?

             
These thoughts raced through his head as Father O’Connell felt the first pair of teeth sink into his broken shoulder, tearing the skin and causing a rush of pain around his upper arm.

             
There were more bites to come.