The Survivors Book III: Winter (5 page)

The sound of my own breathing rattling in my ears felt deafening, like it would lead the undead right to me.
 I tried to breathe quietly, but that just made me even dizzier.  My footsteps sounded like an elephant crashing through the brush.

The fact that I could hear anything at all over my own noises was a miracle, but I did.
 I heard the growls closing in on me.  Every so often one of them would start to get further away, then another one would shriek and draw it back into the hunt.  There was definitely more than one, and I had no doubt that they were following me.  Stalking me.  I was wounded prey, and they were after me.

"
I'm not prey," I told myself softly, shifting my shotgun around into a defensive position.  There was a soft click as I eased the safety off again.  I had a handful of spare shells in my pocket for easy access, so I pulled them out and carefully reloaded them by touch as I jogged eastwards.  The combat shotgun held eight shells, which was usually more than enough.  Would it be enough now?  How many were after me?

"
There's at least two," I murmured.  There was no point in trying to be stealthy when I couldn't move quietly.  If talking to myself helped me stay grounded, then so be it.  "At least two, maybe more.  I think there's more.  I gotta conserve my ammunition.  I think I should hit the road soon.  That's good.  Clear line of sight.  Yeah.  I am not prey."

I took a deep breath and spurred myself on, forcing myself to pick up the pace even though all my body wanted to do was lie down and go to sleep.
 I couldn't do that.  Sleeping meant death.  I was too damn stubborn to die.  My family needed me.  Michael needed me.  The future of my species needed me.

For some reason I couldn't define, that thought steadied me and helped me to keep going well beyond the point of collapse.
 Adrenaline and determination meshed together into some kind of bizarre hybrid emotion that erected itself like a wall between my conscious thoughts and the desperate, panicked animal instincts that pressured me to just drop everything and run for my life.

"
I'm running, but I'm not running away," I told myself firmly.  "I'm running, but I'll fight you.  I'll fight you all, if I have to.  I am no one's prey!"

As if understanding my words, a blood-curdling screech behind me drew my attention.
 I spun and dropped into a crouch, aiming my shotgun from the shoulder so that I could sight along the barrel.  Every shot had to count now.  There would be no firing until I had a clear target.  I drew a deep breath and held it, so that I could hear the sounds all around me as clearly as possible.

There, to the right!

A twig broke beneath a humanoid foot.  I swivelled around and stared into the long grass, watching, waiting.  They were like a school of piranhas, circling me before they closed in for the kill.  As frustrating as it was, I knew that following them into the grass would be suicide; eventually, when they were ready, they'd come for me.  They had no brains, so surely they had no patience either.  But, as the seconds stretched out into minutes, I started to wonder.  They were there, but they weren't showing themselves.  Were they waiting for me to pass out?  Or were they just waiting for my guard to drop a little?

Whatever they were doing, I wasn't about to sit there and wait until they decided to kill me.
 I did have a brain, and it told me that every second I was away from the safety of cover as one that I'd end up regretting – if I lived to regret it at all.  I took a deep breath, then I launched myself back to my feet and raced off towards the east again.

In the process, I almost bowled over the creature that had been working its way around to take me from behind.
 I screamed in surprise, swung my shotgun around, and frantically fired at it before it had a chance to recover from my unexpected movement.  I would love to say that my success was based on skill and awareness, but in this case it was just pure luck.  If I'd waited a few seconds longer, then the thing would have had me.

My heart hammered in my throat as I leapt over the buckshot-riddled pseudo-corpse and ran for my life, and this time it was fear that kept my head steady.
 Pure, animal terror.  The creature had been so close that I could still smell its stink, still feel the unnatural chill that radiated from its body.

"
Oh, Lord.  Screw this.  Screw this!"  I gasped as I fled, using the words as a mantra to keep me going.  "Screw this shit right out of the goddamn water!"

Behind me, the creatures lost their pretence of stealth and began shrieking in what sounded so very much like rage – but it couldn't be, they didn't have emotions.
 They didn't have thoughts or feelings or anything that made us human.  They were hollow shells that did nothing but kill, kill, kill.  And if I stopped, they'd kill me, too.

I found the old roadway quite by accident.
 As Anahera had warned me weeks earlier, it was in terrible condition, a shattered grey ribbon broken into uneven strips, with grass sticking up through the cracks.  Still, it was relatively flat and straight, and that would give me a chance.  I dashed out onto the tar seal and pulled my radio off my belt as I sprinted along as fast as I could go.

"
Michael?"  I called into the receiver.  "Michael, I'm following the old east-west road.  They've found me.  Please, please hurry."  I risked a quick glance over my shoulder, and saw half-a-dozen dark shapes emerging from the long grass behind me.  "Oh, God!  There's so many of them.  I see… at least six—no, seven.  Please, please hurry!"

There was no answer, but I didn't expect there to be one.
 He was too busy driving to answer.  I could only hope that he'd at least heard.  With no other choice but to rely on myself for now, I shoved my radio back onto my belt and ran as hard and as fast as I could.

Every so often, I glanced back and saw the creatures chasing after me, but they didn't seem to be gaining any ground.
 The problem was, I couldn't keep that pace up forever, not with my head the way it was.  Right at that moment, I was fuelled by nothing but panic, and as powerful as that was it wouldn't keep me upright forever.  Stars began to dance around the edge of my vision, warning me that a faint was incoming sometime soon if I didn't stop for a rest.

But the moment I stopped, they'd be on me, and I'd be dead.

Even with my particularly good sense of direction, I had lost track of how far it was to home.  It could be a kilometre, or it could be ten.  I couldn't outrun them, so I'd just have to outsmart them.

"
Okay," I panted.  "Okay, think smart.  What can you do that they can't?  Um… aside from thinking.  Love?  No, that's useless.  Christ, come on, Sandy."  I paused for a moment to jump over a particularly wide crack in the road, then lifted my head and scanned the horizon for any signs of Michael.  Nothing.

"
Wait, no.  Not nothing," I exclaimed.  "Yes!  Inspiration!"  With an unladylike whoop, I channelled what little reserves of strength I had left into one last burst of speed, and raced towards the buildings in the distance.  Even with my vision wobbling and my head throbbing in time with my racing feet, I could see that one of those buildings was a barn, with a pair of doors up high that indicated there was a hayloft above it.

The kind of hayloft that would have a ladder.
 A ladder that would require human coordination to climb.  If my undead friends couldn't operate a door handle, then it seemed unlikely that they'd be able to climb.

Seconds later, I raced across the overgrown courtyard in front of the barn, and plunged into the pleasant darkness within.
 I felt instant relief, after being out in the sun's glare, like plunging into a cool swimming pool on a hot summer's day.  My pupils must have already been dilated from the concussion, because it only took a second for my vision to adjust to the gloom; the first thing I spotted was a ladder leading up towards the loft, and safety.

I shoved my shotgun back on its shoulder strap and darted forward, dodging around a few rusted farming implements and pieces of equipment.
 Right behind me, I could hear the creatures screaming.  Their prey was out of sight, but they were closing on me fast.

I threw myself at the ladder and raced up as fast as I could go, but not quite fast enough.
 I was one rung away from safety when I felt an icy-cold grip close around my ankle.  I kicked out and felt my foot connect with something solid, but I couldn't see what I'd hit.  It didn't matter; it was enough for me to pull free.  A few seconds later, I was at the top of the ladder, and safely out of reach.

"
Thank God," I gasped breathlessly as I threw myself onto the dusty platform of the hayloft.  If there had been any hay up there before, it had long ago turned to mulch, then to dirt, and eventually to dust without enough access to sunlight and rain for the grass seeds lying dormant within it to grow.  Frankly, I didn't care how dirty it was.  I didn't care if there were slaters, spiders, or even wetas making their home up there.  Anything was better than the mutants.

As if reading my mind, one of the creatures below me let out a blood-curdling screech, which was quickly answered by a second and a third.
 Enough light filtered in through the open doors for me to see them circling around beneath me, like sharks waiting for their prey to come back within reach.

A sudden flash of anger clouded my judgement.
 Before I realised what I was doing, I had my shotgun back in my hand, and trained on one of those circling creatures.  The shot rang out in the silence like a clarion call, and sent birds shrieking up into the clear blue sky from their nests nearby.  One of the undead collapsed in a mound of blackened blood, its limbs writhing and flailing grotesquely around its shredded torso.

"
I am
not
prey," I growled, taking aim at a second undead.  Before I could fire, it retreated out of my line of sight and left me seething in impotent rage.  I lowered my gun and gritted my teeth, then took a deep breath to calm my tension.

"
I've been prey before, but I won't be prey again," I said softly to myself once the blind anger started to drain away.  "Never again.  Not for you.  Not for him.  Not for anyone.  I am no one's prey."

***

I sat for a while in that dirty hayloft to catch my breath, and let my spinning head recover.  Just as I'd predicted, the creatures didn't seem to be able to climb up after me, nor could they jump high enough to put me at risk.  I could still hear them growling and circling around below me, but it was a frustrated sort of noise that told me that they couldn't get at me.

Once I had my breath back, I inched back over to the edge to see if I could remove the ladder and haul it up after me.
 Unfortunately, it was firmly bolted to the deck, so it wasn't going anywhere.

"
Well, shit – there goes that idea," I muttered to myself, then paused.  "Sorry, Mum.  I'm sure you'd understand.  There has to be something else, though.  Something I can use."

I drew a deep breath to steady myself, and hauled myself back to my feet.
 Now that I was relatively safe, the adrenaline was starting to drain away, and with it went the frantic burst of energy that had kept me going through the pain and the dizziness.  I quickly searched through the equipment that had been stored in the loft, but came away with nothing more useful than an old shovel.  Still, if I ran out of ammunition, I might need it.

I could feel my strength beginning to wane by the second, so I went over to the loft doors and tried to open them while I still could.
 They squealed in protest on ancient, rusted hinges, but with enough brute force I managed to let in the afternoon sun.

"
Christ, that's bright," I mumbled, easing myself down to sit on the edge of the loft with my legs hanging over the edge.  I wasn't a fan of heights, but I was too dazed to care.  When I went to pluck my radio off my belt again, I found my fingers trembling uncontrollably.  It took three tries before I managed to successfully line my fingers up with the receiver and press the button.  "Michael?  Michael, if you can hear me, please stop for a second.  I need to talk to you.  Please?"

The wait was only a few seconds in reality, but it felt like it took forever.
 Eventually, the radio crackled in my hand, and then I heard his deep, reassuring voice in my ear.

"
I'm here, sweetheart.  Are you okay?"

"
I'm… I'm not doing so hot, to be honest," I admitted.  "But I am kind of safe for now.  I found the road, and I managed to get to a barn.  I'm up in a hayloft, out of their reach.  Apparently they can't climb, so that's pretty awesome.  Downside is that I'm trapped up here.  I have some food, but my water's almost gone.  I managed to shoot one, but there are six more down there.  I don't think they can get up here, but… I don't know."

"
I'm almost there.  You just need to keep it together a little bit longer, okay?  Now, tell me exactly where you are."

"
Yeah… yeah, okay.  Yeah."  I paused and blinked up at the sun, trying to get my bearings.  "I'm a little bit north of the road that runs westward out of Ohaupo.  There's a house.  It used to be painted blue, but it's faded now.  So, you know, faded blue.  It has a collapsed roof in the front.  There's a barn about a hundred meters further back.  That's where I am.  There are mutants in the barn, though.  Be careful.  I don't think I… I—" Tears welled up in my eyes.  I knew I was rambling, but that was the concussion kicking in.  "I don't think I could handle it if anything happened to you.  I love you.  I love you so much."