Murphy's Law (Roads Less Traveled Book 2) (29 page)

“Remember, John will be waiting for you at Route 18.” I gripped her hand in mine, leaned inside and patted Gus on the head, then stepped back.

Mia followed shortly after, leaving Jake alone with his grandma for a few moments. I took several deep breaths as I waited at the garage door, every so often shooting a deadhead between the eyes if he or she got too close, and tried to stay calm. I just kept reminding myself that things could have been worse. We could’ve had the entire horde to contend with, had the snipers not thinned their numbers as considerably as they had. There had only been a few bangs outside the back door, but so far had not escalated into anything worse. Maybe some slower ones had lucked into finding their way down that corridor, maybe it was a runner. There was no screaming, so we still had some time.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Jake said and rushed past us out into the sunshine.

The clouds had broken and if it hadn’t been for the deadhead-littered ground, it would have been a beautiful spring day. Mia cursed and started off after him, and I turned quickly to give Nancy a thumb’s up, then disappeared around the corner. I yanked the radio from my belt and turned the volume all the way up, alerting the roof folks.

“Get ready, Michael, we’re on the move.”

* * *

Michael had been pacing back and forth when Kasey’s voice suddenly called out over the radio. Jonah and his guys were set up along the ledge, picking off runners who were trying to get into the stable. Was this the other runners, the ones who had rained into all the buildings and had been trying to smash their way onto his roof? They had all seemed to realize where the action was, and had been pouring out of various doorways for the past few minutes, all heading towards the stables. Either Kasey’s timing was impeccable, or she was determined to give him a heart attack.

“Get ready, fellas! They’re heading out!” Michael shouted to the shooters after getting Kasey’s message.

He jogged over to the outer edge and checked the cables. They were still securely tied, and so far the ground below was still clear. Hell, the entire field on that side was clear.

This might work after all
.

No zombies meant more time to scale down the wall, and more time to clear out before the runners broke through the stable doors and to the open fields beyond. Jonah motioned the other three shooters to pack up and get to the ledge, while he held off the horde that was congregating in front of the barn.

Michael patted himself down, double-checking his pistol, clips, and the rifle that was slung across his back, then looked over towards the barn just as three horses and their riders burst into view. His mouth dropped open slightly as he watched Kasey and the others make a wide loop around the slower deadheads, herding and gradually leading them away from the garage. Over and over again, they made wide, sweeping circles around the mass, yelling and calling out obscenities, saying and doing anything they could think of to catch the zombies’ attention. He noticed they weren’t shooting, and for a moment wondered why, until he realized that’s not what their jobs were. They were a distraction, to give the people in the vehicles a fighting chance.

After what seemed like an eternity, and after every single runner in the prison complex had arrived at the stable doors, the slower zombie swarm began moving away, being led by Kasey and her gang, towards the eastern side of the complex. The horses were jittery, but moved with their riders as if they had done this before.

“Kasey, I’m not sure how you plan on timing this, but you should know there’s a shitload of runners about to break into the stable,” Michael finally said over the radio.

He saw Kasey snap her head in his direction, then saw her motion to the others with sharp jabs of her hand. Two horses pulled away and galloped back to the stable, while Kasey stayed ahead of the swarm. The two that split away positioned themselves far enough from the back of the barn that Michael could still see them, so he estimated they were fifty feet or so from the back door. The runners were screeching and throwing themselves against the front doors, the old wooden planks giving a little more with each synchronized push.

Jonah finally gave up and slung his rifle, walked calmly to the ledge, and met Michael’s hard stare. They both snapped their heads around a moment later at the sound of a motor revving, watching as a Ford pickup barreled out of the garage and down the south road.

Several seconds later, the pickup crashed through the south gate.

Kasey pulled away from the swarm, which was now at least a hundred yards away from the prison, and came racing back to the stable.

The runners broke through the front barn doors and poured inside.

Another vehicle, a large black SUV, shot out of the garage after the pickup.

And the pickup cut a sharp right outside the gate and came barreling up the outer side of the complex, straight towards Michael and the other men on the roof.

The three riders waited patiently on the other side of the stable, their horses stomping and pawing at the ground. They had their sidearms drawn and their eyes glued to the back doors as Kasey spoke to them. She was too far away for Michael to hear her words, but no doubt she was keeping them calm and giving them last minute instructions. He felt a pat on his shoulder and turned to see Jonah hustling the other three men into line, one of which was already climbing down the cable.

“Stop starin’ and get ready,” Jonah reminded him.

Michael shook himself from his reverie and took up his place in the rear. Forgetting the riders and their safety, he focused on the pickup speeding through the field towards them, and the beagle in the front seat.

“Holy shit, that’s Nancy!”

Jonah just shoved another man to the ledge. The first was already dropping to the ground below, and the second was halfway down. Michael tried to ignore his sudden urge to puke, and his fear of heights, as he watched the last of Jonah’s shooters drop to the ground. Nancy had come to a jerking halt below them, and the three men were climbing into the bed, stumbling and falling over the supplies that filled the back.

“C’mon, Michael, get down that cable!” Jonah was saying as Michael tore his attention away from the ground and the long drop in between.

“No, man, you go,” he said and shook his head frantically, causing his hair to flop into his eyes.

Jonah simply grinned, casually took the cigarette from his mouth, stubbed it out on the ledge, then suddenly grabbed Michael by both shoulders and jerked him forward.

“If that’s the way you want it, I’ll just throw your ass over.” He then proceeded to move one hand to Michael’s jeans, taking a firm hold of his waistline and pushing him further over the ledge.

“Okay, okay!” Michael shoved with both hands against Jonah’s arms. The cowboy let go, then extended one arm out towards the cable.

“Ladies first.”

Michael took a deep breath, glanced back at the barn, and saw the first of the runners explode from the stable. The riders opened fire and jerked their horses around, running at a full gallop in the opposite direction of the south road. Just before Jonah gave him another shove, he saw the three riders move as one, circling around to catch the attention of more runners who had just come screeching from the barn. As Michael bent to grab the cable, he finally realized the organization of their distraction. Once all the runners were clear of the stable and committed to pursuing their mounted prey, Kasey and the others turned east and rode on, with nearly a hundred runners hot on their tails.

“Be safe…” Michael whispered, then flipped himself over the ledge and down the wall, Jonah’s boot heels following right above his head.

March 25
^th
: Mid-afternoon

“This was a
horrible
idea!” Jake wailed.

He was twisted sideways in his saddle, firing on the runner who had caught up with him on his right side. Between each shot he would scream obscenities, loud enough to be heard over both the horses’ hooves and the wild screeching of the runners.

Since leaving the prison, we’d employed the same tactic we had used when escaping our
first
experience with the runners: alternating our speeds over and over, to keep a safe distance between us and them, yet staying close enough to hold their interest. During our last period of hard running, we’d finally decided to stop and rest the horses at the edge of the woods. We’d put at least a mile between us and the runners, but unfortunately a large group had broken away from the main swarm and flanked us, a little fact we had been unaware of until it was too late.

Now we were riding hard to put some ground between us and the ambushers. They couldn’t run any faster than a healthy man, which was a good thing too, or the horses would have dropped dead underneath us some time after crossing into Ohio.

“Shut up and ride!” Mia snapped back to him. She was riding between Jake and I, her bridle reins wrapped around her saddle horn so she could take out the runners ahead of us with her rifle.

Yes, the bastards had figured out the art of working together. More were appearing out of nowhere, popping up over the sloping hills on our right side, and running from the trees on our left. Twice they had flanked us, and twice they had somehow gotten ahead of us. Now Mia rode with her eyes front, while Jake and I protected our sides.

We were miles from West Virginia, and it was probably safe for us to turn and head back, find route 18, and meet up with the others. But we hadn’t been able to figure out how the hell to shake the sonsabitches long enough to do that. We could put plenty of distance between us and them, yet every time we did that, more would show up right next to us.

These couldn’t be the prison runners. They had to be moving in from all over the area, swarming like buzzards.

We also hadn’t been able to get a count of how many still followed. Sure, we’d taken down at least half during our exodus, and I was fairly certain none had turned back towards the prison. We had to do something, and fast, before the horses dropped dead on their feet.

I turned gingerly in my saddle, favoring my left side now more than ever, to look behind us and was a little shocked to see how many prison runners were still left. Not as many as I thought there would be, but they were a helluva lot closer than they should’ve been. Not good. That meant these new arrivals were slowing us down way more than we’d thought.

For the twentieth time since leaving the prison, I wished for some sort of explosive. Whether to blow us up or the runners, I hadn’t decided. Either would’ve been a sweet relief. Everywhere I looked, near and far, there they were. Snapping their dead jaws and rolling their dead eyes, reaching out with their dead arms while their dead legs pumped harder than they probably had in life because now they didn’t give up. They never stopped coming.

Unfortunately, most had run out of their clothes, which brought a whole new level of torment to our eyes.

“We have to shake them! Look for anything that will slow them up!” I squeezed off a few well-placed rounds at three runners who threatened to take Daisy’s legs out from under her.

“Are you shittin’ me?!” Jake screamed. “We’re in
Ohio
!”

Three more shots, then he turned around and reloaded. It occurred to me how well their horsemanship had come along just in the past thirty minutes. To shoot a rifle and reload while sitting on top of a horse running as hard as it could was a skill, one most people couldn’t learn given a lifetime. I suppose it’s surprising what a person
can
learn, and how quickly, when they’ve got a dozen horrors appearing out of nowhere and screaming down their back.

“Goddamnit!” Mia cried.

I snapped my face forward for only a second, trying to find the source of her outburst. A second was all it took. Ahead of us, two hundred yards or so across a vast, grassy field of nothing, stretched a deadhead swarm, much like the one that had followed us to the prison last time we were in the great Buckeye State.

“
What
the
hell
is with
Ohio
?!” I shouted.

We couldn’t slow down, or the runners would catch us again.

We couldn’t turn and go around; the horses would slow down, if only a fraction, and as close as the nearest runners were, we’d be toast.

We couldn’t keep moving forward, or we would run head first into the swarm.

Or could we?

“Head straight for that swarm! And don’t spare the horses!” I gave Daisy another kick. I felt her muscles bunch underneath me as she pulled on her last reserve of strength to rocket forward.

I slid my rifle into its saddle sleeve and grabbed a handful of mane, gripping it tightly with the reins in both hands and gritting my teeth when another bolt of pain coursed through my side. Mia and Jake both looked at me with huge eyes, saw what I was doing, and copied my actions. Their horses bolted forward as well, the three of us coming astride of each other and riding headlong for the swarm ahead of us.