Hamsikker: A Zombie Apocalypse Novel (7 page)

Terry knelt down and shook Randall’s body. “Randall, wake up, man. Randall?”

“I think he’s in shock,” said Quinn.

“What can we do for him?” asked Terry. “Do we have a first aid kit with us?”

Peter had been rummaging around in his rucksack, but he was shaking his head. “We’ve got nothing. Just a couple of paracetamol, but…”

“Mrs Danick, give me your shawl.” Terry held out his hands to her. “Well come on. We need to bandage this wound and stop the bleeding.”

Mrs Danick drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders and stepped back. “I’m sorry, Terry, but you know we can’t do anything for him. Not now.”

Terry’s eyes scanned the group. “Will someone help me? This is Randall, not a stranger. Erik, Pippa - he looked after Freya for you. You can’t just leave him.”

“Sorry, Terry, but Mrs Danick is right,” said Jonas. He crouched down and noticed Randall’s chest was moving up and down, but slower than before. It wouldn’t be long now. “I’m sorry, Terry, but we need to go.” Jonas slid an arm around Terry’s shoulders. “Randall’s not coming back from this. Even if he comes round, how long has he got?”

“You don’t know,” said Terry. “We haven’t had to deal with this before. None of us have been bitten.”

“Terry,” said Jonas firmly, “those things are only just over the hill, and undoubtedly heard the gunshots, if nothing else. You know as well as I do that Randall won’t recover from this. He
can’t
. We’ve seen it before. You’re bitten, you die. We saw it countless times at the start. It’s no good pretending this isn’t happening. I don’t like this any more than you, but…”

Terry shrugged off Jonas and stood up. “So you’re just going to leave him? Leave him out in the street to die like a dog? You’re going to leave him to come back as one of those zombies, one of those disgusting things?”

“No, we’re not.” Erik stepped forward and cocked his gun. “He won’t feel a thing. It’ll be quick, I promise you.”

Terry muttered something under his breath and marched toward the main road.

“You’d better go,” said Jonas to the others. “Quinn, make sure Terry doesn’t do anything stupid?”

Dakota nodded to Jonas, and then followed the group back to the road, leaving Jonas and Erik alone with Randall.

“It’s not fair. What did Randall ever do to deserve this? He was only trying to help.” Erik looked forlorn. “Randall helped me and Pippa a lot. Freya was a handful. Well, you remember what she was like at the start.”

“I know, but Terry’s right, we have to end it for him,” said Jonas.

Jonas looked into Erik’s eyes and wondered if his friend was feeling the same. Shooting one of the dead was easy. Shooting a friend was altogether different. Even though Randall had a death warrant, it still felt like murder. It still felt wrong.

“Do it quick,” said Jonas, “and then we get the hell out of here. That pack will be back any minute.”

As Jonas walked toward the group, he tried to find Dakota’s eyes. Brimming with tears, she was staring into the distance, back at Jeffersontown. A single gunshot rang out, and Jonas didn’t look back. He knew Erik would do what had to be done. When the time came, he could be counted on to step up. Jonas wondered what he would do if it had been Dakota. Shuddering, he pushed the thought from his mind. The day was far from over, and they had lost nearly half a dozen of their group already. The alliance they had formed was teetering on extinction, and if they didn’t find somewhere safe soon, it was liable to get much worse.

Passing the group, he could feel Terry’s eyes burning into his back. Jeffersontown lay before him, and a horde of dead were at their back. Where could they go? Realising the only sound he could hear was his own footsteps, he turned around. Everyone was looking at him, their faces a mixture of sadness, fear, and anger.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he asked.

“Shouldn’t we say something?” Quinn was standing by Terry who was ashen and shaking. He kept wiping his face, as if trying to hide his tears. “A prayer, or…”

“There’s no time for that now,” said Erik as he took Pippa’s hand. “They’re coming. I can smell them.”

Jonas opened his mouth to speak, and then suddenly the first of the dead were in sight: runners. Six or seven of them came over the top of the hill. Arms swinging loosely, their loping zigzag run suggested a lack of cohesion, a lack of understanding of how the human body worked, but the dead were mobile and focussed, and the group of living were within sight now.

“Run!” Jonas shouted, and the group forgot clean about Randall and prayers. They ran back toward Jeffersontown, running for their lives.

CHAPTER FOUR

Javier left the house, trotted down the steps into the yard, and started the bike. Rose looked at him expectantly.

“Nothing,” he said. “Just a dead dude and some empty cupboards. Someone’s already ransacked the place.”

When they’d seen the house from the main road, Javier had hoped they would find something of use, anything, and more than anything, he’d wanted to find the farmer’s shotgun. Rose had taken out a couple of runners who had veered into the road, and they were down to their last clip. The bike was running low on gas too, and if they didn’t find somewhere to fill up soon, they were going to be on foot. That was a prospect he didn’t relish, especially with such a lack of firepower. Rose embraced him as they took off, leaving the deserted farmhouse behind them.

After leaving Jeffersontown, they had ridden around, not really knowing where to head. Using the sun as a compass, they tried to go north, only to find the roads blocked. Even on the Yamaha, trying to navigate a path through a mountain of burnt out cars was impossible. All the lanes across the highway, including the emergency shoulder were blocked, and they were forced to turn back on several occasions. Eventually, he headed to what he thought was east, and found the farmhouse. It was useless, offering nothing at all. Now that it was after noon, he was getting thirsty. He constantly had to wipe his visor. With so many dead around, the flies were not just annoying, but a menace. Swarms of them flew through the cities and towns, and Jeffersontown was no exception. Javier’s gloves were covered in the remnants of dead, black flies, and his visor was smeared with their blood. Turning onto another road, he was feeling uneasy about the day ahead. Rose had been complaining about a headache since leaving Jeffersontown, and she was trigger-happy, too quick to shoot whenever they saw a zombie in the road. At least it appeared they’d now found a way out of the city, and the roads were slightly clearer the further out they got.

As they drove, he saw Rose raise the pistol out of the corner of his eye, and he brushed her arm down. “No need,” he shouted back to her, “it’s too far away. Save it.”

The regular zombies couldn’t keep up with the bike, but the runners were lethal. They were the only ones Rose was allowed to pick off, the ones who suddenly appeared in front of them. A collision with one of them could bring the bike down, and they so often appeared at the last second that driving around them was tricky. Back outside of Baton Rouge, they had almost come unstuck when a runner had appeared in front of them, and Javier had swerved around it, only to drive straight into another. Luckily, the zombie was old and fragile, and it had exploded into a storm of blood and guts on impact. Javier had lost sight of the road as his visor was smeared in gunk, and only narrowly avoided driving them straight into a ditch. After that, they had agreed to shoot the runners, rather than take any chances. Rose seemed to take it as a green light to shoot anything that moved though, and Javier’s patience was wearing thin.

The road they travelled now was refreshingly clear of traffic, and he spotted only a few zombies away to the side, in the fields and side-roads. He knew he was going to have to siphon some gas out of one of the abandoned cars soon. It was a nasty job, and he hated doing it. The taste was foul, but he was more concerned about the dead. Rose did her best to cover him, but he would rather not put all his trust in her. She was too easily distracted, and whilst lining up a kill, another zombie could be headed right for them. Other than complaining of a headache, Rose had been quiet ever since they’d left Jeffersontown. She’d been quiet since they’d left Noah. He wondered if she felt sorry for the boy. If so, she could soon drop that attitude. The kid was done for, a lost cause, and no way was Javier going to let them be dragged down by helping the boy.

As they wound their way up a hill covered in shadows, Javier slowed down. He didn’t want to run into any surprises at seventy miles an hour, particularly ones with teeth. At the crest of the hill though, the afternoon sun suddenly came back into view, temporarily blinding him. Using one hand as a shield, he looked at the road ahead. It was packed full of zombies. At least thirty were gathered in the road, and still more off to the side. He slammed on the brakes, and as one, the zombies looked at him. He swore he could feel their dead eyes on him, telling him exactly how they were planning on eating him. The bike ground to an abrupt halt, and instantly, the zombies were running toward them. There was no time to turn around, and if they ran for it, eventually, the zombies would catch them. They were running on fumes, and he wasn’t sure how much juice the bike had left in her. The farmhouse was too far back, and they had barely a handful of bullets left.

“Shit,” said Javier as he dismounted. “Fucking runners.” He grabbed Rose’s hand. “Go for that diner. Quick.”

He could see the fear in Rose’s face, and he sprinted ahead of her to the only place that might be able to offer them somewhere to hide. The diner seemed to be in good condition. The windows were not broken, and there were still some cars in the parking bays outside. If they were lucky, they could hide inside until the zombies found someone else to chase, and then try one of the cars. The bike was nearly done for anyway, so a fresh pair of wheels wouldn’t go amiss. The diner was some sort of cheap fried chicken place, the sort of establishment that never tried to be anything more than it was. A large sign out front read ‘Captain’s Bucket only 9.99!’ and the door was plastered in stickers announcing ‘hot wings from 99c,’ and ‘AC seating for paying customers only.’

“Rose, hurry up,” demanded Javier.

As they reached the diner, he didn’t need to turn around to see what was behind. In the reflection of the large glass frontage he could see a crowd of dead running for them, their dead arms waving, and rotted teeth gnashing. He pulled on the door, but it was locked.

“Of course it is,” said Javier, ruing his luck he had run into the only place left in Kentucky that still had a locked door.

Rose screamed as a runner reached her. Javier watched as it grabbed her hair, and she fell to the ground with the zombie on top of her. Realising she still had the gun, he hesitated. If he went back to help her, they were both liable to be swarmed by them, buried beneath a pile of moving corpses, and he had no intention of dying today. He wasn’t quite ready to abandon her yet though, and looked around for a weapon. Before he found anything he heard the gunshots, and whirled around to see Rose pushing the dead body off her. She ran toward him, her face covered in gore.

“Round the side - the door’s locked,” he shouted, pushing her ahead of him. Rose thrust the gun at Javier, and he took it, tucking it into his pants. He prayed there was a side door, or a back entrance, otherwise, they were history. The zombies chasing them sounded like a pack of hungry dogs.

The roadside diner was a small building, and it didn’t take long to realise there was no way in. Both side doors were locked, and the rear entrance was boarded up. For once, Javier began to doubt they were going to find a way out of the mess they’d gotten themselves into. The diner was being surrounded by the dead, circling it, and in turn, circling Javier and Rose. Punching a whole through the zombies seemed like a long shot. He might be able to take a few down, but there was no way they could both get through. As much as Rose was only an accessory to his life, like the bike, Javier wasn’t quite prepared to abandon her just yet. He needed time to think.

“Help me,” he said to Rose. Grabbing the side of a dumpster, they began pushing it toward the wall of the diner. It stank of rotting meat, and the metal sides were filthy, covered in flies that swarmed over something sticky. They quickly pushed it into place, and Javier gave Rose a boost up onto its lid. They made it up on top of the dumpster just in time, and the nearest runners ran straight into it, moaning in frustration as Javier and Rose kept their feet and legs out of reach. More zombies clattered into the dumpster, rocking it as they slammed into it. Looking around the parking lot Javier could see vehicles, but getting to them was a suicide mission. There was no way of knowing if any of them would even work, or had the keys still in them. There was no time to hot-wire them, so they were going to have to find a way into the diner. He looked up at the roof, about five or six feet above him. There was a gutter around the edge, and if he could get them up, there might be another way in, perhaps through a skylight or ventilation shaft.

Javier jumped, his fingers fleetingly touched the guttering, but failed to get any purchase, and he fell back onto the dumpster. He barely managed to stay upright, and Rose pulled him back before he fell into the mosh pit of zombies waiting below.

“Give me a bunk up,” said Rose. She handed Javier the gun, and put her hands flat on the diner’s wall. “Look, I can’t help you, but I’m lighter than you, so give me a lift up. I pull you up when I’m up there.”

Javier was reluctant to let Rose go ahead of him, but he knew he had little choice. He clasped his hands together. Rose put one foot into his hands, and Javier turned up his nose as his hands were coated in blood from her grimy sneakers.

“Go,” he said, as he took her weight in his hands.

Rose jumped up and easily grabbed hold of the guttering. Within seconds she was up, and climbing onto the roof. She looked back down at Javier.

“Fuck, you should see it from up here. They’re everywhere.”

Javier could see her looking around the diner, but he wasn’t interested in the view. The zombies were clawing over each other, and getting closer to reaching the top of the dumpster. He needed her to hurry. He reached an arm up, and looked into Rose’s eyes. “Get ready to grab me.”

Suddenly, Rose disappeared from sight, silently sinking back onto the roof without saying a word.

“Rose? Rose, what are you doing?”

Javier felt a hand around his ankle, and he looked down to see one of the dead had managed to clamber over the others to get within inches of him. Whipping his gun out, he put a bullet in its brain, and then shoved it back off the dumpster into the melee beneath him.

“Rose! What the fuck are you…”

Suddenly, she appeared back above him, smiling. “Look what I found. This’ll make life easier.”

Rose slowly lowered a plastic summer chair down to him, its green canvas back held together with thin metal legs. Javier took it, and planted it firmly on the lid of the dumpster. He used it as a springboard to get onto the roof, and the extra few feet enabled him to get a good grip on the guttering. Rose helped to pull him up, and then he was safely out of arms reach of the dead.

“Next time you feel like doing your own thing, maybe let me know, yeah?” Javier wouldn’t admit it, but he had been scared back there, wondering if Rose was going to abandon him.

Javier watched as the zombies who had been piled up against the dumpster got on top of it, only seconds after he had escaped it. Clumsily, they staggered about, and the chair was trampled on before it was knocked off to the ground. There was no way the dead were getting any further.

“Shit, that was too close,” said Javier. He stood and looked around. Rose was right. They were everywhere. The diner was totally surrounded, and they were effectively trapped.

“I found the chair over there,” said Rose proudly. “Looks like someone used it as a breakout area.”

The roof was almost flat, sloping slightly down from a central point. In the middle of the diner lay another chair and more importantly, a skylight. Javier smiled.

“Perfect.”

Javier examined the skylight, and knew they had gotten lucky. It was still unlocked, and he pulled it open to reveal a step ladder beneath.

“Ladies first,” said Rose as she kneeled down besides the opening.

Javier put an arm across her, barring her way. “Not this time. We don’t know what’s down there. I’ll go. You come down when I give the all clear.”

Javier was soon down the step ladder, and found himself in what was apparently an office. At one point, the manager had probably used the room to run the place, but it had long since lost its primary purpose. Javier noticed that someone had been staying in the office, using it as a bedroom. Crumpled, dirty sheets lay in two corners of the room, spread out like beds, and in another, the desk had been turned over onto its side, as if to give the occupants privacy. The room smelt funky, like a fifteen year old boy’s bedroom, and the room’s solitary window clearly hadn’t been opened for months. Javier listened, but couldn’t hear any noise from inside the diner, only the clumping, thumping noises from outside as the zombies tried to get in. Perhaps their luck was holding. If the diner was empty they could search around, maybe even find some food. Javier looked up at the skylight beckoning Rose to join him.

Once she was inside, Javier opened the office door to find a narrow hallway. The grey walls were adorned with menus, and certificates of hygiene that had faded over time so as to barely be legible. The corridor had two more doors. One led into the diner, the other apparently to the bathrooms judging by the outlined pictures of a man and woman on the exterior. Their way was dimly lit by a small, square glass window in the door to the diner. Javier nodded in the direction of the window, and Rose followed him. They went quietly, keeping their footsteps light, just in case the dead were inside. Javier drew his gun, and indicated to Rose he was going in, but she should wait again until he had given the all clear.

Pushing back the door slowly, Javier waited for the inevitable creak as reluctant hinges sprung to life. Instead, the door opened quietly, without the slightest squeak, and he took a step into the room. The diner was deserted. He saw rows of chairs and tables, food wrappers and napkins scattered about the floor, and a faint smell of burnt chicken. The diner’s frontage was still intact, and the dead were pressed up against it, unable to get in. Javier smiled. They were safe.