900 Miles: A Zombie Novel (12 page)

The noise ran for almost two full minutes
and then stopped as suddenly as it had started.

“What the hell?” Michael said out loud as Kyle and I just stood there, expecting the worse.

Eyes wide open; my senses were at full alert. At first, it sounded like a distant squirrel rustling through the leaves on the forest ground. However, the single small movement began to multiply, getting louder as it headed in our direction. My hands were shaking with anticipation as we drew our weapons and started stepping back towards the Hummer. We all knew what was out there.

The first creatures came stumbling out from the darkness of the forest one or two at a
time, and they all seemed to be converging towards where the siren stood.  Small packs and larger swarms followed from every direction, they were all over the place, being pulled in like moths to a light.

“Get in the Hummer!” Kyle screamed.

Slamming the doors shut, I gunned it backward and then headed in the same direction as the cop car.  There was no going back down the road we came from.

At the top of the hill, I stopped the Hummer and swung open the door.

We heard a few screams and some gunshots coming back from behind the tree line.

“Do we check it out?” I asked.

“I’m thinking we go down to that house overlooking the trees, and see what we can see from there.  Let’s just make sure nobody knows we’re still hanging around.”

I nodded in agreement
and then we headed down to the house.

Smarter men would have taken off and not looked back.
Our curiosity was what got the best of us.

We made sure that Michael was comfortable in the Hummer, which I had concealed around the side of the house.  Kyle and I made our way around the rear of the home, passing through
well trimmed bushes, a fountain that looked like it cost more than my car back home, and a swimming pool that still had the automatic cleaning unit attached to a large hose, which was buzzing around through the water.

We came to the overlook, and had a clear view all the way to the siren.  To our amazement, there was a group of what looked like live people standing in a circle around the siren.  They were all holding various farming tools
, which included shovels, pitchforks, and axes.  There was even one guy that was walking around wearing a black apron and a clear plastic face plated helmet while wielding a chainsaw.  The people had used the CAT backhoe parked nearby, to dig a deep ditch around the siren, giving them a sizable perimeter to which they were all standing in the middle of.

We watched in fascination as the dead slowly but surely dropped into the circular ditch, getting stuck.  Those alive would simply walk over to each zombie as they fell, and swing their weapon of choice down, killing each trapped creature as it desperately tried to climb back out.

“That’s why this place is so devoid of creatures,” I spoke out loud.  “This group is thinning them out.  Pulling them in with the siren, and then killing them all.”

I caught Kyle’s attention, pointing beyond the group, as they were finishing off the last of the zombies. We saw the bonfire that I noticed the night before.  It was clear now; these people were burning the bodies of the dead.

A brilliant plan, I thought to myself.  Thin out the problem, keeping the area relatively safe.

In that moment, we watched as a car drove up to the outside perimeter of the circle.  The creatures had all been taken care of in one massive onslaught. There was someone from inside the circle laying down a plank to create a bridge across the gap.

Two people got out of the car.  They were holding their hands up in the air.  The crowd in the circle seemed agitated, screaming and pointing at the people.  I figured that they heard the siren too, and were drawn in like the creatures.

“Are those people like us?  People trying to get help?” Kyle whispered, even though we were hundreds of yards away.

That’s when the guy holding the chainsaw swung a shotgun from around his back and opened fire.

The shots tore through the first person, puncturing his chest, dropping him to the ground on impact.  The other person turned to run, and got the full barrel of buckshot blown right through his back.  He flew into the car, creating a spider web of
blood-covered cracks on the windshield.

I was standing at full alert with my hands stuck to the top of my head, watching in horror, when Kyle pulled me back down to a crouch. I couldn’t believe what I had just seen.  People were killing people…

“Don’t let them see you,” Kyle said sternly.

A few of the others from inside the circle crossed the bridge and one
by one took the bodies over to the fire-pit, tossing them in with the same level of remorse they had for the zombies they had just slain.

The cop car pulled up minut
es later to help with the clean up.

I’m going to ask you a simple set of questions.

The sky was turning pink with white waves of clouds as the sun started to set over the tree line.  Kyle and I were discussing what to do next when we heard a rattle of the door handle behind us.

In a panic, we both ducked behind a nearby bush.  Peering through the leaves, I watched as a slender woman with dark brunette hair and a revealing black swimsuit stepped out.

She lazily walked to the overlook where we were hiding, and stood at the railing of the deck just above us.  I heard a click, then another. I smelled the familiar smoke from a freshly lit cigarette floating in the air.

Not moving a muscle, Kyle and I were both crouched down, attempting to stay concealed.  I watched a bead of sweat start from Kyle's brow, run down the side of his face and consequently, his neck, and into his shirt collar.  He didn’t flinch.

My legs were starting to shake when I heard a car door echo shut from the town below.  The people had finished their cleanup and were heading back into the neighborhood.

The finished cigarette was flicked over our heads.  Ashes fell from the butt like a tiny rocket as it floated downward.  We could hear the woman’s feet touch each board softly as she padded back to the pool.

We need to get the hell out of here, I thought to myself.  The Hummer was on the side of the house, and not obvious to anybody who was just driving by.  However, it could be seen if you moved close enough to the house. After all, its yellow exterior wasn’t exactly designed to blend in.

Kyle’s expression told me that he was thinking the same thing.  We began creeping around the exterior of the deck, still crouched as low as we could get.  It didn’t matter if this woman saw us.  We’d be at the Hummer in just moments.

Her feet were splashing in the pool, and her back was to us.  She was sitting down, leaning back on both arms.  Soft, graceful, and methodical, her movements were not unlike those of a small house cat.

We could hear people talking in front of the house and cars driving by.

Hearing the rattle from the rear door once again, Kyle and I dove behind the fountain. Lifting my head up from the grass, I could still see the woman slowly moving her feet back and forth in the water.  The noise was from someone else joining her.

The black plastic apron and chainsaw told me he was the zombie chopper.  He stepped through the door, and walked to a garden hose by the side of the house, setting down his weapons against the wall.

The woman didn’t even look up at him
; he didn’t say anything to her.  The air was silent except for the pounding of my heart and the water hose.

He rinsed off his boots, black plastic apron and helmet.  We were close enough to see a watered down
crimson pool of blood flow into the flowerbed.

Once finished, he lumbered across the deck to stare down at the little town. He was heavier built, and each
footstep came down on the boards with a loud echoing
thump
.

“You’ve been smoking again,” he growled.

The woman didn’t reply.  Her feet were still playing in the water. He paused.

“The
Zs are cleared out.  We pulled them in from miles around.  This system is working,” he said, almost looking for approval.  He received none.

“More people showed up down there.  I took care of them.” He sounded more macho now, but still received no response from the woman.

“Our very own security force, Officers Dumb and even Dumber, said that they found a few people driving around the neighborhood in a yellow Hummer.  Those fucking idiots simply escorted them out of town.” After a moment, he went on.

“I’ll put a bullet in those rent-a-cops, if those people come back with any friends.”

He set a small handgun on the wooden railing, as he gazed across the now darkening sky.  Turning around, he looked down at the woman, watching her kick in the water.

They remained there in silence as the minutes ticked by.  Kyle and I looked at each other.

“What the fuck?” he mouthed. I could only shrug.

“What’s with the silent treatment?” We heard from the guy on the porch.  I could hear his feet thudding across the deck once again.

“Are you still pissed because we’re not going to Avalon?”

Kyle and I glanced at each other in question; other people knew of this area?

“That place is for fucking pussies.  Don’t you get it?  They are going to wall themselves up into a cave, and hope this shit passes.”

Feet still kicking in the water, no response.

“Oh, I get it.  All your girlfriends got the season pass, so you need to be there, too, huh?  It’s not good enough to stay here, safe, in our own new house.”

Her feet stopped kicking.

“Mother fucker!” she screamed.  “Mother fucker! My family is at Avalon.  All my friends are there.  You want to stay here, surrounded by this group of free loaders and poor people.  This isn’t our house.  This is our coffin!”

He was standing over her again.  Just as he was about to respond, we heard a bang and screaming from the side of the house.  Kyle and I knew what had happened instantly.  They found the Hummer.

Moments later, the two cops emerged from the other side of the house, pushing Michael, who appeared to be in handcuffs in front of them.

“What the fuck is this?” snapped the guy on the deck.

“This is one of the guys from the Hummer, which is currently parked on the side of
your
home,” one of the cops said sarcastically. “You didn’t see the large banana next to your house?”

“He wasn’t alone, so we can assume there are two more adult males somewhere around here,” the other cop noted.

“You should have taken care of these fuckers when you had the chance.  You should have
never
let those people go!” the guy bellowed.  Nobody bothered to respond. The woman’s feet were kicking in the water once again.

“Bring him over here and cuff him to the
table,” the house owner said, as he motioned towards a black wrought iron table sitting near the pool.

As the cops hauled Michael over, it was obvious he couldn’t walk on his own and clearly was still very much in pain.

The man on the deck picked up the small handgun on the railing, and walked over to where his black apron sat.  He slid it over his chest, and then stuck the handgun between his pants and his back as he walked back over to Michael.

“I’m going to ask you a simple set of questions. 
Either you can answer these questions, or you can decide not to.  That is a choice you have to make.  However, I want you to understand what your choice means.”

Michael’s one hand was cuffed to the
table; his other was covering his stomach.  There was a look of terror in his eyes.

Kyle and I were close to the side of the house.  We could easily escape.  I looked at him. It was an unspoken question; do we save our own ass, or do we rescue our passenger?  Kyle motioned toward the deck.  I nodded, and quietly slid my hammer from my belt.  We wanted our wounded companion back.

The man on the deck continued.

“Life is full of choices.  People make them every day.  Today, you have ten choices.” As he spoke in a sinister voice, he reached into the front pocket of his black apron and his hand emerged with what looked like pruning shears. Flicking the spring release on them, he held them in front of Michael's face.  One cop grabbed Michael’s bound wrist and held it to the table, while the other officer pinned his body down.

“Where are your friends?  But before you answer, I want it to be clear what your choice is.  If you chose not to tell me what I want to hear, you lose your left index finger.  You will have nine more choices if you answer this one wrong.  Are we clear on your options?”

He gazed down at his prey.  Utterly stunned, Michael did not respond. The man on the porch opened the sheers and placed
them around his index finger.

I started to stand up
, but Kyle yanked me back down.  He made a hand signal that looked like a gun, and shook his head.  He was waiting for a bigger distraction.