Deathly Contagious (45 page)

The fence rippled and rattled again. The electric wire sizzled and popped as it shocked the zombies. The scent of burned rotten flesh filled the air. Oxygen entered and exited my lungs at a fast pace. I caught a glimpse of Hayden’s face in the side mirror; he looked every bit as stressed and anxious as I felt.

“I’ll come down and get it!” Jason shouted and his boyish face disappeared from the glassless window in the tower. I grabbed the flare and leapt out of the truck.

Jose, Noah, and two A2’s were in the SUV in front of us. I spit out a summarized explanation to them after I handed the flare off to Jason. Hayden was speaking to someone on the walkie talkie. I jumped back into the bed of the truck and picked up a rifle. Hayden backed the truck up, put it in park and leaned out the window holding a gun.

Not wanting to accidentally shoot anyone with the built in machine gun, Rider flicked the safety off a pistol. We watched the flare sizzle to life and fly through the air in a perfect arc. It dimmed slightly when it landed on the ground. I held my breath and waited, praying that the zombies would notice. I considered shooting at the zombies through the fence but decided against it on the notion that it wasn’t worth it to risk damaging the weakening fence.

It was hard to see over the SUV. My eyes were wide and my body felt like it was alive with fire. Finally, the gates opened. Jose stomped on the gas and the SUV flew through, hitting a zombie. Noah emerged from the sunroof, taking on a stance and fired. The A2’s that I didn’t know the names of rolled down the back windows and opened fire as well.

Knowing that we could easily miss and hit the guys in front of us, I kept one eye on the tail lights and the other on the zombies that pushed past them. I pulled the trigger, hitting an S2 in the head. Gunfire boomed around us, echoing in the vast darkness. My ears were already ringing by the time the gate closed.

Seven zombies had gotten through. Within thirty seconds they were dead…again. The SUV raced down the street in the direction of the farm.

Hayden revved the engine of the truck and pulled it forward, ready to burst through as soon as the metal hinges swung open.  Rider and held onto the side of the bed when the truck lurched forward.

We shot at the stragglers that staggered into the grounds of the compound. I wasn’t sure if we got them all but I didn’t worry; there were still guards stationed at the entrance of the compound. Hayden jerked the wheel left, away from the farm. Rider and I began shooting at the stragglers that banged on the fence.

A walkie talkie had gotten shoved inside the bag of weapons. I heard muffled voices shouting and responding. Ignoring them, I continued to send bullets flying into the heads of our foe.

“Underwood!” a different voice bellowed into the walkie talkie. I had to feel around in the bag for it since I wasn’t about to take my eyes off of what was in front of me. “Underwood, do you copy?”

It was Fuller’s voice. I picked up it up and pressed the button.

“Yes. I mean I copy. This is Orissa.”

“Where is Underwood?” Fuller asked, losing his professional composure over his worry about Hayden.

“Here. He’s fine,” I said shortly, not thinking I should give too much attention to the conversation. I fired two shots into the open mouth of an S2 that was limping her way over.

“Get to the farm,” Fuller commanded.

My heart skipped a beat; things must be
really
bad at our farm if Fuller was willing to let zombies tear down our fences.

“Ok,” I said dumbly into the walkie talkie. I set it down and relayed the message to Hayden. I tried to catch a glimpse of Jason as we sped past. If only he stayed in the tower, he’d be safe. Hayden turned left, tore down the driveway and then jerked the wheel right, remembering to slow so he wouldn’t throw Rider, me or our weapons out of the bed.

A blood red sunset crept up over the horizon. Shots rang out and echoed all around us. I heard someone scream and turned just in time to see two zombies ripping into one of our soldiers. Trenches—six feet wide and ten feet deep—had been dug along the pastures surrounding the barns to protect the buildings in a similar way a moat protected a castle.

Only we didn’t have a drawbridge. Two U-shaped moats surrounded the pasture, leaving two paths of land intact, enabling the animals, people, and vehicles to move in and out easily. And tonight, it enabled the undead to move in.

The gates had already been pushed through; dozens of zombie hands pounded and pushed on the metal doors of the barns. The lights on the barn shone like a neon diner sign for the zombies. It shuddered and rattled under the literal dead weight.

Hayden parked several yards from the barn and got out of the truck. Rider and I jumped out of the bed and raced to Hayden’s side. Rider raised his machine gun.

“No!” Hayden said and put his hand up. “If you miss, you’ll kill our animals.”

“If they don’t first,” Rider said bitterly, shooting a disgusted glance at the undead. “What do we do?”

“Pick them off, one by one,” Hayden answered and shoved a clip into the hunting rifle he was holding. “Riss, cover us; get the strays that wander over. Rider and I will shoot the bastards at the barn.”

I nodded and we rushed into position, adding to the deafening sound of gunfire. I wanted to look about and see who was still alive. I was so worried about not only my friends but anyone and everyone that it made me sick. I didn’t have time for that. I had a job to do.

With my back to Hayden’s, I fired at the zombies that slunk away from the barn in the direction of humans. It was mass chaos; they were everywhere. I wanted to believe there was an end to this. I wanted to believe we would win, lose nobody, and be merely annoyed with the broken fences in the morning.

But I was wrong. Turning from side to side, I continually pulled the trigger. Blood splattered in the air each time a bullet lodged itself into the putrid brain of a zombie. Their arms would flail ever so slightly before they dropped.

Smoke and gun powder hung heavy in the air. I was out of ammo. Out of habit I reached down to pull another clip from my pocket. Goddammit, I was wearing pajama pants. A decomposing S3 limped at me. I swung the rifle and hit him in the head. Bits of pus covered brain matter oozed out. Another zombie took his place as soon as he fell.

She reached her torn and bloodly hands at me and picked up speed. Half of her face had been ripped off, exposing the muscle and bones of her cheek and jaw. Blood crusted clumps hung in her black hair and she smelled worse than week old road kill in the middle of July.

I leaned back, brought my foot up and kicked her in the chest. She stumbled backwards and fell on her ass. Using the heel of my boot, I stomped on her forehead. Her skull cracked, though not enough to kill her. I kicked her in the temple. She rolled to her side and wrapped her decomposing hands around my ankle. I raised the rifle and brought it down on her face; she released me and went limp.

I made a mad dash to the truck, cursing my stupid gray and pink polka dotted pajama pants for not having pockets. I traded the rifle for an M9, the gun I was the most familiar with. When I reached around in the dark bed for more ammo, my fingers closed around a survival knife leg strap. My heart beat so fast and my fingers almost didn’t work as I quickly fashioned it around my thigh. I stole a quick glance to my left and saw Brock and Ivan battling a group of zombies.

I looked back and Hayden and Rider; they were still taking down the zombies that surrounded the barn. Nothing limped in their direction so I rushed to Brock and Ivan. A spry S2 clocked me on my way there. We tumbled over each other and the gun flew out of my hand. He landed on top of me, his head hitting me hard in the stomach.

The red glow of the sunrise illuminated his grotesque face. Half was burned off, one eyeball loosely dangled from the socket, and maggots crawled in the rotting holes in his cheek. His boney hands were covered in thin flesh and deteriorating muscle; he moved them with surprising speed, shoving my shoulders down. He opened his mouth and roared; his breath was so foul I nearly puked.

I brought my leg up to knee him in the stomach. The zombie must have just had a feast; his very full stomach popped like a balloon. Guts, bile, blood, and poorly chewed body parts spewed out all over me.

Grimacing, I put both hands on the zombie’s shoulders and pushed him away. I hated how much I struggled. This piece of shit was dead with the contents of his stomach soaking through the thin tank top I was wearing. I should be stronger than him.

I brought my knee up again and desperately reached for my knife. The tips of my fingers graced it but I couldn’t get a firm enough grasp to pull it out of the holder. With one hand on the zombie’s chest, pushing him away, I felt around for my gun. That, too, was out of my reach.

Drainage leaked from pustules on the zombie’s face. He fought against me, his large size and heavy weight almost too much to resist. I needed to do something—anything—if I wanted to live. I shoved my free hand up and inside of the zombie’s open abdomen. I nearly gagged when my fingers punctured through another organ.

I pushed my hand up until I found the spine. I wrapped my hands around it and yanked it down, tearing the nerves that ran from the spine to the brain. The zombie sputtered and went limp.

Panting, I rolled him off me and wiped my hand in the grass. Not convinced he was actually dead, I pulled the knife from around my thigh, and stabbed him three more times in the head before I scrambled up. An S3 was doing her best to rush at me with two clearly broken ankles. I scooped up the M9 and shot her in the temple.

“Brock!” I shouted, not wanting to sneak up on anyone. I was covered in enough blood and guts to be mistaken for a zombie. “Brock!”

He half turned and smiled when he saw me. He and Ivan were advancing on a group of zombies that clawed at the smaller pole barn that contained our chickens. Four A2’s were with them and I didn’t know any of their names.

If we made it through this, I swore I would learn everyone’s name. With careful aim, I fired my remaining shots into the heads of zombies. I let the empty gun fall from my grip and I yanked the knife from the leg strap once again. I turned away from the barn and rushed at a young S2 that ran at us.

I dropped to the ground, extended my leg, and spun. The zombie tripped and fell. I brought the knife down into its forehead. I put one hand on the zombie’s face and forced the knife out of the bone. Not taking the time to flick the goo from the blade, I took on the next zombie that came toward us. This one was big and had dark eyes that looked almost alive. The skin around his mouth cracked and flaked from dehydration and had a several inch long cut on his arm had blackened with necrotic, rotting tissue.

I sunk the knife into his neck, severing his spinal cord and nerves. When his body went limp, I pulled the knife back and kicked him in the chest as he fell in order to move him away from me. Another took his place. This one was a child and couldn’t have been older than six or seven when she turned. She was still nothing more than a zombie. It still sickened me and hurt every fiber of my being to push the sharp blade into her eye socket.

Panting, I looked around. The sound of gunfire was decreasing. Ivan, Brock, Alex, and the A2’s were finishing off the zombies at the entrance of the chicken barn. I was about to take off and go back to Hayden when I heard someone call for help.

I jerked my head around to find the source.

“Help!” I heard again. “Down here!” someone yelled.

“Oh my God,” I breathed when I realized that someone had fallen into the trench. I raced over and dropped to my knees. “Hey!” I shouted. “Where are you?”

“Here!” a male voice answered. I recognized the voice but couldn’t place it.

“I’ll pull you out!” I called and rapidly moved down to where the person was. “Give me your hand!”

Weak sunlight reflected off the blood splattered across his face. Jones, I remembered at once: A young A3, the soldier who had taken me to my room my first day at the compound.

“Are there zombies down there?” I asked

“Tons,” he said. “Most are dead,” his voice shook as he spoke. “I think.”

“Quick, give me your hand!” I laid down on my stomach, set on pulling the kid out. He stepped on a dead zombie for leverage. His fingers locked with mine. “Ok, go!” I said, not wanting to waste time counting to three. Jones pushed off the dirt wall with his feet and I tried to hoist him up. I strained but managed to pull him up. His fingernails dug into my skin as I exhaled, taking a second to catch my breath. “Push!” I instructed, meaning for him to use the wall to propel himself upward.

His left hand slapped the ground. Not letting go of his other, I pulled back once more. He grabbed and handful of grass and hoisted himself up and out of the trench. Out of breath, I rolled back. A zombie lumbered at us. Neither of us had time to move out of the way.

Acting on their own accord as a reflex, my hands covered my head. The zombie’s foot got caught on my side; I flattened myself and wrapped both hands around its thigh, causing it to trip and painfully land on me before toppling into the trench.

“Nice,” Jones said. He rose to his feet.

“Wish I could say I planned it,” I panted and got up as well. My eyes darted all over in search of Hayden. When I couldn’t find him, panic threatened to take over. My body momentarily froze and I didn’t know what to do. In just a second I snapped out of it and ran back toward the cattle barn, jumping over and dodging dead zombie bodies.

I didn’t think it was possible to panic even more. The barn door was slightly ajar and neither Hayden nor Rider was anywhere to be seen. I wanted to scream his name and fought every muscle to keep my mouth shut. I was almost inside when the door slid shut.

I wasn’t aware Jones had been following me until we both crashed into the metal door. Knowing that if I opened the door I would likely get shot, I softly and rhythmically knocked. After only a few seconds, it opened.

“Riss?” Rider asked.

“Yes!” I desperately blurted.

He slid the door open enough for Jones and me to get through. The middle light had been turned on, creating a soft glow over the dim, dusty barn. Rider put his hand on my shoulder and I smiled at him, glad he was ok too. I immediately looked past him.