Our Undead (20 page)

"He didn't even stop or
take a look back to see if my dad was okay. I just stood there
shocked, holding the door open for everybody, watching my dad
scuffle to his feet with those things right on his tail. I wanted
to run after him, but it was literally a "deer caught in the
headlights" moment for me. It's something I'm really ashamed
about.

"My dad… He was able to get
to his feet, but he was just a second too late. The zombies were on
him, and he struggled to get them away, punching and flinging them
off of him. He was so strong. I still couldn't move, but like
lightning out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Australian guy
take off toward him. My dad was prying himself away from one last
zombie that had him by the arm when the Aussie guy had made it over
to him, but then another one grabbed my dad on the
shoulder.

"God, I wish I could
remember this guy's name. The Australian hero Baby-Ruthed the hell
out of the zombie that had my dad by his shoulder. It allowed him
to rip his arm away from the other one. I noticed in his face, that
he winced when he had done it. After that, they managed to make it
to the door pretty much just in time, but we found out later, when
everyone was safely inside, that my dad had gotten scratched by the
zombie he pulled away from. If it weren't for that chicken shit
bastard my dad wouldn't have gotten infected."

<><><>

The end of her story brings
us back to Margaret, Abe and Billy, walking down the dusty, dirt
road at sunset.

Margaret:
Humans are naturally mean spirited cowards.

Billy:
The
Australian hero wasn't a mean spirited coward.

Margaret:
Maybe not… but maybe he just didn't want to be the
only
strong male
left in the group. If my dad had died that guy
probably would've felt responsible for all of us women, plus the
asshole fat-ass. When it comes down to it, he saved my dad for
selfish reasons.

Billy:
I
guess it could've been selfish, but it sounds like it was the best
thing for your group at the time.

Margaret:
(sighs)
All I'm saying is that
zombies can't help but try and eat brains. They're brain dead so
how can you blame them. Humans, on the other hand, have the ability
to make decisions, and most of the time they choose to be cruel.
What type of shit is that?! I bet
you
probably turned because of
the actions of some thoughtless human too. Am I right,
Abe?

Margaret turns to Abe who
is following not too far behind and chucks a small rock at his
head. She nails it.

Margaret:
Yesss. Right in the noggin'.

Billy:
I
don't know if I can believe that. I think everyone is just
different.

Margaret:
Yea, I know everyone is different. I'm just saying that the
majority…

Billy:
Wait
. Shhh...

Billy stops Margaret short
again with his hand, Frank Costanza style.

Margaret:
What? You see something? Rabbits again?

Billy:
No.
I don't
see..
. Listen.

Margaret concentrates on
her auditory sense. She can't hear anything at first, but soon her
ears begin to catch a soft shuffling sound, a sound that has become
all too familiar to her during the last almost two
weeks.

Margaret:
Shit… Zombies?

Billy nods and pulls
Margaret by her sleeve closer to the cover of the cornfield. She
pulls Abe over with them as well, and the three lay low in the
shadow at the side of the road. Although she can hear the shuffling
getting louder, it's really difficult to tell which way the sound
is coming from. Margaret wonders what Billy must be thinking, and
soon she finds out. Billy taps her and points in the direction that
they were headed in.

About fifty feet ahead of
them, a dark figure in the shape of a human trudges out of the
cornfield and on to the road. They stay crouched and quiet. They
need to be sure that the thing is a zombie and not a wandering
survivor. It stands there for a few seconds, and then is joined by
a second silhouette, also emerging from the cornfield, and then
another. Ten seconds pass and four more humanoid forms come out
from the cornfield. At this point, the girl and boy are certain
that the black figures are undead. Billy whispers to Margaret his
plan.

Billy:
Okay, we'll make our way around them using the
cornfield.

Margaret:
But they're coming from the cornfield. Shouldn't we go back
into the woods?

Billy:
No
way. They'll hear us walking through there in a second. Just follow
me, and move slow for now.

Margaret:
Then let's head back first, and
then
go into the
woods.

Billy:
They're already heading this way. If we go back they'll just
catch up to us, and the sun is almost set. We can't risk getting
caught. Pushing past them is our best chance. Trust
me.

Needless to say, it's
pretty hard to deny Billy's conviction. What did she have to lose
anyhow, except her life? She gives Billy a nod of approval, and the
three of them enter the tall browning leaves of the cornfield. They
walk cautiously for several feet through the stalks of dead crop,
pushing each one aside as they make their way through. They can
still hear the shuffling, but now it truly sounds like it is coming
from every direction. In her mind, Margaret says a little prayer,
but it gets cut short when Billy prompts her to stop. He speaks
with haste.

Billy:
Margaret, can you do something for me?

Margaret:
What?

Billy:
I
need you to lift me up on to your shoulders. I need to see above
this field.

Margaret:
Fine. Fine.

She drops her duffel bag
and crouches, offering Billy her shoulders. Billy takes off his
knapsack and gets settled on the back of Margaret's
neck.

Billy:
Okay, go up slowly.

She does just that, lifting
Billy up as slowly as she can manage. Billy is as light as she
expected so lifting him is relatively easy, even with most of his
weight on her good left foot. When Billy feels that he is high
enough, he taps Margaret's shoulder.

Billy:
K,
that's enough.

Margaret stops ascending,
and Billy gets a relatively clear view of what lies ahead of them.
From above, he can see that the six or seven zombies that they saw
on the dirt road are not alone. The field in front on them is
literally teeming with dark figures of the undead, all who are
slowly heading in the general direction of the trio. Billy isn't a
boy that is easily shaken, but the sight of the hoard that lies
ahead puts a nauseated look on his face. The hoard is broken
horizontally into two halves, and Billy notices the break in
between the two separate groups. With the dimming daylight, it is
hard to notice, but to him it looks like a pause in a sea of dark
undulating heads. He taps Margaret on her crown.

Billy:
Bring me down.

Margaret squats down, and
Billy hops off her shoulders with a stone cold expression. What
stands ahead looks quite daunting, but he doesn't want to worry
Margaret by looking troubled, a practice in keeping himself calm as
well.

Margaret:
What did you see?

Billy:
Uhh… I saw about two hundred walkers coming through the field
toward us. They're not too far ahead, about a hundred feet
away.

Margaret:
What the hell, Billy Tell?!

Billy gives her an odd look
for the little rhyme she created and wonders how she could be
cracking jokes at a time like this. Maybe it was an accident. It
isn't her fault that "Tell" rhymes with "hell".

Margaret:
So are you ready to head back
now!?
You're not seriously still
considering pushing forward are you?

Billy:
We
have to. I don't think you want to tangle with those things in
fifteen minutes when everything is pitch black.

Margaret:
Shit… Well, you'd better have an amazing
plan.

Billy:
I
do. You're going to keep heading to the right. Just keep going
deeper into the field. It looks like they're only coming from up
ahead, so the rest of the field should be relatively safe, apart
from the zombies that may have strayed from the pack. It was too
dark for me to see any solo walkers. Just keep heading that way,
but be careful… You can even use Abe as a buffer. Let him walk in
front of you, like a human shield. It'll give you some extra time
to react if you run into anything.

Margaret:
Aah, okay fine. What are you gonna do?

Billy:
I'll be back.

With that Billy gets down
on his knees and bolts off in the direction of the hoard of two
hundred. Margaret watches the kid disappear into the dark cover of
the field, astounded, but she brings herself back to reality
quickly and grabs Abe by the arm.

Margaret:
Okay, Abe. Let's get moving.

She takes her duffel bag up
in her left hand, slinging it on to the same shoulder and takes the
knife out of the side of her shorts with her right. She uses the
same right hand to guide Abe from the back.

Margaret:
You're taking the lead this time buddy. Go
on.

She pushes him forward
with her knife hand, and it doesn't take too long for Abe to
understand want she wants. He begins walking forward, and Margaret
follows close behind. As the sun sets, it gets increasingly
difficult to see. The tall stalks of dead corn don't help anything
either. It gives good cover from the undead, but the cover works
both ways. Both prey and hunter cannot see it each other. Margaret
wonders who has the better advantage, and then she wonders which
she is, the hunter or the hunted. Billy is definitely
not
the hunted. She
wonders next what he could possibly be doing.

The skinny black kid from
Portland shuffles through the field on his knees, and soon he is
not only quickly crawling through the bases of thick stems, but
begins to pass the beat up feet and legs of walkers. The zombie leg
to corn stalk ratio increases quite rapidly, and it quickly becomes
harder for Billy to crawl around unnoticed, especially as he
brushes past their legs. The walkers start taking heed of the boy,
and they begin following him. Billy takes notice as well, but a
clever boy such as this is not easily unnerved. He reaches into his
back pocket as he crawls and takes out a small pocketknife. He
unsheathes it and begins slicing through any approaching Achilles
tendon. They'd still be able to follow him, but there is no way
they would be able to keep up. He also makes sure to impale any
heads that fall too near by.

In a much calmer section of
the field, Margaret and Abe are still cautiously making their way
through the giant leaves. Abe still takes the lead, and Margaret
plays the role of observer, keeping an eye on all directions and
peeking over Abe's shoulder every once in a while to make sure he
doesn't run into one of his cousins. Everything seems to be fine,
although, she is beginning to wonder how much farther she should
continue walking. At least Billy was right in telling her that
there isn't anything dangerous over in this area. That was how she
felt, until a sudden groan puts her entire body and every hair on
it at full attention. A quick survey of her surroundings, and she
sees nothing, but the groan gets louder and is soon accompanied by
the crackling of something stepping recklessly through the plants.
She pulls Abe's t-shirt from the back, signaling him to stop, and
they stand still, waiting for whatever might be coming their
way.

Abe is the first one to see
the walker that emerges from the thick in front of him. The two
zombies stare at each other, each one looking the other over, but
when Margaret pokes her head over Abe's right shoulder and sees the
monster, she pushes Abe forward in a sort of panicked yet
controlled thrust, an automatic reaction she didn't expect. Abe
bumps violently into the zombie in front of him, sending the walker
to the ground.

Margaret:
Fuck.

Shaken but not stirred,
Margaret drops her bag, passes Abe, full mounts the fallen zombie,
and gives it three, quick, double-handed stabs to the cranium. She
barely has any time to rest or react, when a second walker comes
through the unflattened stalk. It immediately lunges on top of her,
and although she is able to make a quick turn, she winds up on her
back, fighting for her life.