Amongst the Dead (21 page)

The farther she traveled, the chillier her body grew. Her boots tripled in weight by the absorption of water. With chattering teeth and blue lips, she trudged onward. By car, the trip to the city would’ve taken no longer than thirty to forty minutes. She had no idea how long it would take by walking. She wished it would stop raining, or at least stop coming down so ferociously.
 

She thought about turning back, but decided against it. She was already in motion and returning home, especially if Joanne was waiting, would only prolong the inevitable.
 

To her surprise, about ten minutes later, the rain began to let up. Its pelting fierceness became a gentle mist. The moon showed itself occasionally through the rapidly moving clouds.
 

Riley smiled, feeling as if she’d made the right decision and luck was on her side. She was still mostly dry except for her feet. Making a fire was out of the question, both time-wise and the fact that the logs and kindling would be soaked through. She trekked on.
 

An hour later and she’d made it to Birchwood Road. From there it was only a short way to the highway that would lead her into the city of Poughkeepsie. Hopefully, while traveling along the highway she’d run into a zombie and not have to enter the metropolitan area.
 

Not having slept, cold and her legs growing tired, Riley realized it would be best if she sat for a few minutes. It was still dark, but the rain had all but left, leaving the sky clear with a half moon overhead. The surrounding woodlands were pitch black, but the road was illuminated brightly enough, allowing her to see the way.
 

Ready to pop a squat in the middle of the road, she heard a dull scraping noise from ahead. Looking up, she saw a figure coming toward her. It was a black silhouette, rocking from side to side as it approached. Riley’s weariness vanished as her heart pumped faster. Her first impulse was to run to the side of the road and hide, but she remained where she was. Whoever it was had most likely seen her. It wouldn’t do her right to take cover anyway. She had a weapon and was a crack shot—the lone figure an easy target.
 

Riley readied her rifle, keeping an eye on the figure as it neared. The soft scraping sound grew louder as the figure seemed to walk faster. Hesitant about simply blowing away whoever was approaching, she waited to get a better visual. The person’s arms were at its sides. Any movement that looked threatening and Riley would send a warning shot. The figure drew nearer.
 

“Hey, you there,” she said, receiving no reply. As the figure drew closer, the moonlight hitting its body, Riley saw the reason it didn’t answer.
 

The undead’s hobbled side-to-side walk was due to it missing a left foot. For as many times as she’d seen the horrible creatures, Riley cringed, disgusted by the abrading sound its tibia and fibula made scraping along the road. Its scalp hung to the side, flapping up and down like a piece of latex. Now, closer, the zombie raised its arms, revealing its interest in her.
 

Normally a person might panic upon seeing a member of the living dead, but Riley found herself pleasantly surprised. She would no longer have to head into the city. She was tired, much more than she’d thought she would be, and her ankle, although mostly healed, had begun to pain her.
 

Now that she had her zombie, she had to figure out the best course for allowing it to bite her without being mauled. The undead thing was drawing nearer, its moans clearly audible.
 

A shotgun would’ve worked better for what she planned to do, but she’d have to make use with the rifle. She took aim and pulled the trigger, silencing the zombie’s annoying moans temporarily. The baggy pants the thing wore made a precision shot difficult, but she’d hit her mark. The zombie’s leg, from the knee down, fell away as if swatted by an invisible force. It tumbled to the ground and kept crawling forward, as if nothing had happened to it. It didn’t care about its leg, only that fresh meat was near and it needed to feed.
 

She began gagging as her nostrils filled with the pungent odor of death and decay like a dead fish lying at the edge of an algae-infested pond.. Holding a hand over her nose, she shouldered her weapon and took out the machete. Approaching the downed-but-not-out zombie, she saw how badly decomposed it was, the dingy white of its skeleton showing through on most of its face and arms.
 

The zombie’s eyes glowed eerily with life as if its body had no effect on the evil in its head. Riley had never been sure if they were good or evil, or just things reacting to what they were. But now she knew that only evil could cause such things to exist.
 

She darted to the left side of the zombie and sliced the arm above the elbow, severing it. The machete had cut easily through the rotten flesh and brittle bone. With one of the zombie’s arms no longer in play, Riley skittered away as it swiped at her with its other appendage. The severed arm’s twitching slowed as its undead life faltered.
 

Riley backed away as the sorry creature continued its pursuit of her flesh, the remaining arm its primary source of locomotion. She waited for the zombie to stretch out its arm to pull itself forward, then leaped in and sliced it off just below the shoulder. Like a dying maggot, the withered limb convulsed and shuddered for a few seconds before falling still.
 

With only stumps for arms, the zombie still tried crawling. If the scene weren’t so grisly, she might’ve thought it was comical. Its legs kicked in conjunction with its stubs, but ultimately it made no forward progress. Regardless of its very limited ability to move, the thing kept opening and closing its jaw, snapping fruitlessly in Riley’s direction.
 

“I’ll give you what you want,” she said with revulsion, staring down at the thing’s face. It was still a dangerous move, but with the zombie unable to grab her she felt confident that after a few nibbles, she could easily pull away. Doubt concerning what she was about to do began entering her mind. Without further thought, she removed her right boot, placed her foot at the zombie’s mouth and waited.
 

It didn’t take more than a second before she felt the pain strike her ankle. A cool sensation, like lying naked in snow, gripped her, quickly followed by the searing heat of her flesh ripping as the zombie’s rotted teeth sank into her muscle tissue. Riley fought against her body’s natural reaction to pull her leg away, wanting to make sure the zombie got a decent bite.
 

It hadn’t occurred to her until now that she’d used the same ankle that was previously wounded. If she’d thought about it, maybe she should’ve offered her unblemished one. Now walking would be harder for her as the ankle had already started to bother her. Then again, maybe it was better to have one wounded ankle as opposed to two. Either way, it was too late now.
 

She clenched her jaw tightly, letting her breath out slowly like a gas leak to keep from screaming out. And even though the zombie had no emotion, no feelings, she wouldn’t give it the satisfaction of knowing how much distress she was in.
 

Blood poured from the zombie’s mouth. A thick flap of skin was hanging from her ankle. She’d given it enough of herself. Riley yanked her leg away, but the zombie was quick, closing its jaw around the piece of dangling meat, tearing it free.
 

The pain in her ankle was intense, as if she’d been stung by a thousand wasps. It was no longer just the ankle that aggrieved her but her leg too, as the pain rapidly traveled up. “Damn,” she muttered, hoping she hadn’t let the thing have too much.
 

Dismayed, watching the zombie chew on her flesh—the sound of her own juicy meat being devoured—Riley hoisted the machete high above her head and brought it down on the corpse’s neck. She heard the snap of its vertebrae before the blade came to a sudden halt as it met the asphalt below. The zombie’s head rolled a few inches away from the body.
 

Using the bottled water she brought, Riley doused her leg and cleaned the wound as best she could. To her alarm, she saw that she had let the zombie take too much of her. A rather large, gaping hole showed, revealing tendon and muscle, but no bone. She would need stitches. The blood was flowing fast.
 

Rummaging through her pack, she removed gauze and wrapped it around the wound. Immediately, a red bloom appeared on the gauze, soaking it to an almost black color. She took more of the bandages and continued to wrap the wound until the roll was finished. It would have to do for now.
 

With nauseating pain, she managed to slip her boot back on, tying the laces tight. She zipped up her pack and went to stand, when she cried out and stumbled to the road. Using the rifle like a crutch, she managed to get to her feet, keeping the weight off her damaged leg.
 

She tried walking, putting the least amount of weight on her ankle, but the pain was immense. She wanted to punch herself in the head for being so stupid. If she didn’t die from the bite, she might die from infection or starvation if she couldn’t find help. There was no going back now. She could only move forward with her plan. She would have to deal with the pain, having no choice in the matter. Now that she’d been bitten, she’d have to wait it out, see if she’d survive. If she became sick and joined the undead, none of this would matter anyway. Going back to the house and possibly endangering Joanne and Eric was out of the question. Now she had to walk into the woods, find a tree and handcuff herself to it.
 

Wincing through the pain, she began limping toward the woods, ready to proceed with the next part of her plan, when she heard a moan. She stopped in her tracks, refusing to look in the direction it came from. A tinge of what felt like electricity traveled up her spine. Was the zombie she beheaded still alive? No, that was impossible. Turning, she stared at the severed head. It was motionless, clearly dead for good this time. She began wondering if she really had heard something when it came again, but this time the moan became moans. A chorus of the all too familiar sound rang out from down the road. Movement caught her eyes. Looking up, she saw what appeared to be a thick, almost black fog moving toward her—the over-hanging tree limbs, like lovers holding hands, blocking out the moon’s illumination.
 

She balanced herself on her uninjured leg, putting most of her body weight on it, and readied her rifle. The moaning grew louder as the dark fog came closer. Riley’s heart fluttered as she swallowed. Dread began to fall over her like the pelting rain from before. Then as the fog came out from the canopy of trees—the moon’s glow falling upon it like a gigantic spotlight—Riley saw what it truly was. A cacophonous horde of undead was ambling her way.
 

Her body shaking as if the ground was rumbling, Riley eyed the mass. There were too many of them for her to even think about shooting. They moved together, like one huge insect of rotting and diseased flesh. At least thirty had come into view and still she saw no sign of the end. Riley spun around, shouldering her rifle as she did so, forgetting about her ankle. As pain radiated throughout her body, her ankle screaming at her, she collapsed to the ground.
 

She’d royally screwed up this time. Even without her damaged ankle, she’d have a hard time getting away, but with her ankle as it was, she was a sack of zombie food. She wasn’t able to outrun them, even the slow ones would prove fast by her. Turning her head back to the crowd, she saw that there were runners among them, making their way to the front of the pack.
 

Raising her rifle as she sat on her haunches, she fired at the closest runner, turning its head to dust. Then, the second went down as quickly as the first. She’d bought herself some time as the others were slower, but to what end? There were surely to be other runners amongst them, working their way to the front.
 

Another runner broke through, barreling down at her, arms out as if sleep-running. Riley fired, missing. She fired again, this time hitting her target in the head, blowing the top off. The zombie went down, but rose up quickly, causing her to have to fire again. This time the zombie stayed down after the bullet tore through its face.
 

Firing from a seated position was harder than she thought, her body taking more of an impact from the weapon.
 

Another zombie came forward, the crowd parting as it came through the front lines. Riley aimed, her arms weakening, and fired. She missed, hitting a female zombie in the front of the crowd in the chest. She waited, letting the runner draw nearer and then fired a bullet, hitting it between the eyes. But it almost didn’t matter as the horde drew close enough now that she could smell their decaying odor like a forewarning of what was to come for her.
 

Riley realized her death was imminent and that she’d never get the chance to know for sure if she was special. She wouldn’t become a member of the undead, which she would be thankful for, but she didn’t want to become zombie food either. Fear gripped her chest, her breathing constricted, like a python. She tried getting up again, using the rifle as a crutch, refusing to give up. She would fight to the end, regardless of the futility of it all. Forgetting about the pain and the damage it would cause, she took a leap forward, hoping to run through the agony, but she only fell forward, scraping the palms of her hands. “Damn it,” she cried. She couldn’t outrun them and even if she had time to shoot them all, she had not nearly enough ammo to do so. Sitting up, facing the crowd, Riley closed her eyes and prayed.