Zomb-Pocalypse 3 (6 page)

“I don’t think we
all have to go. It’s safer over here than out there in the open.” Silas opens
his mouth to volunteer to go get the car, but my dad shakes his head again.

“Not this time,”
he tells Silas, patting him affectionately on the shoulder. “I’ll go.” He gives
me a quick hug and I have to bite my lip to keep from begging him not to, and
then he’s gone. I stare after him, watching as he breaks into a run, stepping
through the broken glass and zombie gore as he reaches the front of the store.
The car is parked in front of the cola machine, and my dad doesn’t waste time
as he opens the door and hops in.

A zombie comes
staggering out of the store, stepping through the glass, intent on the car, and
I hold my breath. Silas and I watch as the zombie makes his way over to the
driver’s side window and start to pound and claw against the glass. “Why isn’t
he moving?” I burst out, unable to keep it to myself any longer. I feel Silas
shrug beside me.

“I don’t know,” he
admits.

“Do you think we
should go over there?” I demand, and Silas shrugs again.

“Let’s give him
another minute,” he tells me, and I let out an annoyed huff, even though I know
he is trying to choose the best option for all of us. “Look, something’s
happening,” Silas says, elbowing me, and I squint to see what he’s talking
about. The passenger side door flies open and my dad scrambles out of the car
just in time to meet a second zombie staggering out of the store. Dad raises
his gun and shoots the zombie point blank in the face, making gore and bits of
bone splatter all over the cola machine. The zombie goes down, and Dad pauses
just long enough to shoot the first zombie over top the roof of the car. Then
he takes off running towards us.

“Shit,” Silas
curses under his breath, and my heart starts pounding even harder.

“Barry must’ve taken
the keys,” my dad tells us as he bends over at the waist, panting to try and
catch his breath.

“I’m definitely
going to kick that guy’s ass,” Silas says, and my dad nods his head in
agreement.

“What now?” I ask,
feeling utterly hopeless. It was terrifying enough travelling around when we
had the truck, without it…our chance of survival gets even lower.

“We’re on foot
until we find another vehicle,” Dad tells us unnecessarily, and Silas starts
adjusting the straps on his backpack.

“We better get going
then,” Silas says. His face is calm, and I can’t help but marvel at the way he
isn’t freaking out. He knows what has to be done and he’s just going to do it.
I know what needs to be done too, but it’s a little harder for me to put one
foot in front of the other.

“We should try and
stay out of the open,” my dad suggests, and Silas nods. Without asking me if
I’m ready, they probably know I never will be, they take off, and I’m forced to
follow them or get left behind.

We are both lucky
and unlucky that the Wal-Mart is kind of off by itself, not really around any
other stores or houses. There is a construction site a block down the road, but
who knows what it was going to be. Despite our vow to stay out of the open,
there isn’t a lot of choice in the matter. We try to stay close to bushes and
trees, but they are few and far between, so we mostly end up running in the
open anyway—and we are running. The Wal-Mart is on the end of town, so we
decide not to chance going back through the middle of zombie-ville, even though
that’s the way home, so we head out on the main road instead. Sweat starts to
roll off of me, soaking my undershirt and making me itch. I glance over at my
poor dad and see that he is plastered in sweat too. If anything, he is probably
in worse shape than me. The only one that seems perfectly fine to run forever
is, of course, Silas.

“Silas,” I call
out to him once we are out of town and have been jogging for the last fifteen
or so minutes. Silas looks over at me with a resigned look on his face.

“You need a break,
don’t you?” he asks, like it’s paining him. He slows down and I nod, looking
towards my dad.

“And I don’t think
I’m the only one,” I tell him, making my dad shake his head.

“I never said I
needed a rest, Jane,” Dad tells me sternly, but I know, even though he won’t
admit it, he’s happy with the change of pace.

I ignore them
both, and we walk in silence down the center of the road. It’s nerve wracking
being out in the open like this, but at least it offers a wide open view of the
surrounding area. A few houses dot the landscape, but they are miles from the
road. Even if we walk all the way out to them, there isn’t any guarantee that
we’ll find a vehicle. Silas and my dad agree to wait until we come across a
house that is much closer to the road—it would be pointless to waste all of our
energy on nothing.

We walk for
another twenty minutes and, despite the fact that it’s late autumn, the day
really warms up and the sun shines down on us, making me prickle with sweat
beneath all my layers. I want to stop and take my coat off, but I know I’ll
just have to carry it, and it will get in the way if I have to run or fight. I
decide to suck it up, complaining about it will just make me look weak in front
of Silas and my dad.

“Holy shit,” I hear
Silas mutter, and I look up from the road. I’d been daydreaming and staring
down at my feet, more than I should. I look up and my heart leaps into my
throat. Dad crowds in closer to me, and I feel myself shrink up a little in
fear. I wish I could shrink up completely, until I’m invisible. An enormous
horde of zombies has just crested the top of the hill ahead of us. They see us
as soon as we see them, and they let out a collective moan of excitement.

“It’s time to
run,” Silas says, and I’m reminded of the horde we ran from for hours before we
were rescued by a Camp Freedom chopper. The chances of lucking out like that
again are slim, and I know it. I start running, following Silas as we get off
the road and head into the nearby field. If we keep going, we will run into the
zombies; if we turn back, we will head back into town. The zombies are still
far enough away, and we have a decent head start, so the bumpy terrain might
actually work to our advantage.

“There’s gotta be
something in those trees over there,” Silas says, pointing to a large group of
trees half a mile away. I would usually question him, but from this distance I
can see the driveway that separates from the road and disappears into the
trees.

I’m panting by the
time we get close enough to see the old iron fence that surrounds the lot. “Oh
no,” I say as I stop running and stand staring uncertainly at the cemetery.

Silas ignores my
outburst and keeps running towards it. My dad at least stops and looks back at
me. “Come on, Jane,” he calls, staring back at the large number of zombies that
have fallen behind but will still be on top of us within the next ten minutes
or so.

“Silas,” I hiss as
I run to catch up, and Silas actually stops and looks back at me.

“What?” he asks,
sounding annoyed.

“This is a
graveyard,” I point out the obvious, like that should explain why we shouldn’t
go in.

“Exactly,” Silas
agrees. “And you know what that means?” he asks me, and I have to shake my
head.

“No,” my dad and I
answer as one.

“Everyone in here
is the good kind of dead,” Silas snaps as he motions for me to get moving.
“Come on.” I try and leave my reservations at the gate as we walk in and are
confronted with tidy rows of gravestone markers. I stare hard at them, but none
of the earth looks disturbed, and I relax a little—maybe the dead rising from
the grave just happens in the movies—and I’m grateful. The smell hits us then,
and the overwhelming buzz of thousands of flies.

“What is that?” I
yelp, forgetting about the horde behind us in the heat of the moment. I cover
my nose with my sleeve to keep from gagging. Silas doesn’t answer but he creeps
forward towards a large hole that’s been dug in the ground, and even he has to
cover his nose.

“It’s a mass
grave,” my dad says as we stare down at the bodies that fill the enormous pit.
“They must’ve been dumping the infected out here to try and contain the
situation.” I gag as I look out over the sea of mottled gray faces, rotting and
splitting in the sun.

“Let’s get out of
here,” I say, barely containing my vomit. Silas and my dad stubbornly shake
their heads.

“We don’t have a
lot of time, we need to find somewhere to hide,” Silas answers for them both as
he turns and starts scanning the area. There is a small wooden garden shed
where the groundskeeper probably kept his supplies, but Silas dismisses it. “It
wouldn’t hold up against that many,” he says, and my dad nods in agreement.

“What about one of
those concrete mausoleums?” my dad points out, and I follow his finger to the
back of the graveyard where there are small concrete buildings in a row. They
look like mini houses. Silas and my dad take off towards the closest one and
begin trying to pry the door open, and I follow them.

“It won’t budge,”
Silas pants as he slams his shoulder into the cement so hard I can’t help but
wince.

“Isn’t there a
dead body in there?” I ask, and Silas shoots me an annoyed look.

“Really, Jane?” he
snaps as he tries the next building and has the same luck. “There are hundreds
of dead bodies walking through that field right now and when they get here they
are going to rip us apart until WE are dead bodies!” he yells at me in
frustration. I see Dad frown at his outburst, but he doesn’t chastise him—he
probably secretly agrees.

My dad goes pale
as he looks over at the zombies that are now clearly visible, lumbering through
the field in our direction. “We’re running out of time,” he tells us both, and
I don’t really like the resigned tone he’s using.

“We need to run
and get out of here,” I tell them, panic making my voice high and squeaky, but
Silas stubbornly shakes his head.

“They’re too close
and there isn’t any guarantee we’ll find somewhere before one of us twists an
ankle out there, or we get too tired to run.” His words send a shiver of dread
running down my spine. “And there isn’t any guarantee that the next place will
be any better.”

“Well we can’t
just stay here,” I tell him, beginning to shake. I’m kicking myself for ever
sneaking along on this trip.

“Yeah we can,”
Silas says as he strides towards the huge pit of bodies.

“What are you
thinking, son?” my dad asks him, and Silas shakes his head.

“It’s crazy but…”
he pauses as he shucks off his backpack and his coat and tosses them underneath
a nearby tree.

“What are you
doing?” I squeal when he jumps into the hole and sinks down past his knees into
the rotting bodies. I turn to my dad so he can back me up, but he isn’t looking
at me. He’s staring at Silas with a strange mixture of horror and understanding
on his face. “What is happening?” I demand, planting my hands on my hips. The
zombies are almost here and Silas is screwing around—he’s going to get us all
killed!

“Shut up, Blondie,
and get in the hole,” Silas tells me, and I know he’s not in the mood, but I
can’t help it.

“Not until you
tell me why you’re doing this!” I fire back, and Silas looks like he’s going to
explode.

“Have I ever
steered you wrong?” he demands, and that takes a little of the fire out of my
belly. He hasn’t, in fact, he’s always saved my helpless ass. I shake my head,
not wanting to voice what we both already know. “Then take off your coat and
your pack and get in here before you get torn apart,” Silas hisses at me. His
tone is so serious that I automatically start unzipping my jacket and unsling
my backpack. I toss it under the tree where Silas left his and then I stand
hesitantly at the edge of the hole. My dad starts shucking his stuff off too.

“What do I do?” I
ask, not wanting to immerse myself in the rotting pile of infected meat.

“Get your ass in
here before I get out and pull you in by your hair,” Silas instructs, making a
visible effort to keep his voice low. My dad grips my hand, and together we
climb into the pit. With my first step, the corpse underneath me shifts and I
fall to my knees, my jeans instantly getting soaked with viscera. Silas shifts
a couple of the bodies around. “Lay here,” he tells me, his words no longer
angry but encouraging. It takes everything I have not to scream when I see the
maggots writhing around where he’s pointing.

I catch sight of
the first of the zombies coming through the rusty open gates and I throw myself
down on my belly into the mess. The smell is overpowering. I feel chunks rise
up into the back of my throat, but I swallow them down—maggots are
disgusting—but I will take them over being ripped to shreds any day.

Silas silently
covers me with a couple of the bodies and then burrows in himself. My dad has
gotten the hint and has also blended himself in with the corpses. My eyes widen
when I see the first zombie stagger near the open pit. I feel something grab my
hand and nearly erupt from the pit, never mind the danger. “Shut up,” Silas
mutters so quietly that I barely hear it, but I know what he’s said. The hand
squeezes mine and I realize with some chagrin that it’s my dad. Silas has a
large hunting knife in one hand and a gun in the other.