The Undead Situation (25 page)

“You have guns,” Michael said. “We don’t have any way to defend ourselves. We’re too weak.”

Angie cut to the chase. “You can kill them so we can take the church back.”

“Take it back?” Blaze said. “You must’ve had a dispute with them?”

Naturally they had to delve into a huge story.

When word of the Zs came to Startup, Washington, the entire town worked together to gather resources and fortify the big ol’ church across from the tennis courts. Everything worked out for the hundreds of survivors until zombies actually came strolling into the town. People became polarized on who they thought should lead, what decisions they should make. And, as expected, some people went a little crazy.

Angie and Michael were married, and they led the half of the survivors who didn’t agree with the crazy half. They wanted them to get it together or leave, which they wouldn’t. Hence the murdering, crucifying, and general bad behavior.

Since they’d been kicked out weeks ago, the crazies had been tracking them down and killing them. None of them, Michael explained, had eaten anything substantial in a long time. They ventured from house to house when they thought it was safe and ate what they could.

There were a hundred of them in the beginning, and only forty were left.

After hearing their story, I wasn’t moved. Surprised? I didn’t feel outraged or too biased toward one side or the other. Actually, I was more eager to get out of there than anything else. I knew it wouldn’t be that easy though.

“How about this? We give you some guns once we get back to our car, then you defend yourselves. We have some shotguns and rifles in the back, with ammo.”

Michael and Angie looked at each other, exchanging silent dialogue. Angie glared at us and said, “You’re condemning us to death.”

“It’s our fault?” I was about to say more when Michael reached out and touched my shoulder.

“Let’s go upstairs to talk.” He gestured towards the other survivors, who were getting riled up by our confrontation.

The upstairs wasn’t boarded, and as we came up we saw another handful of people sitting away from the windows. At Angie’s command they slinked away, squeezing in with the rest downstairs. We stayed towards the back of the house where our visibility from the outside was reduced.

Blaze, who picked her fights at the most random of times, stepped forward and into the shorter woman’s space. Angie was at least a head shorter than her, and probably weighed eighty pounds less, too.

“You condemned yourselves to death when you decided to hole up in a church with other people. Didn’t you consider the repercussions of cramped quarters and psychologically stressful situations?”

Angie opened her mouth to speak, but Blaze rammed right on, invading her personal space. “No, you didn’t. And now, like the fucking commie you’ve become, you want us to ride in on our white horses to save you. I don’t think so. We’re alive because we aren’t as fucking stupid as you are.”

Michael wrapped his arm around the demoralized Angie, pulling her close to him. “I can see why you’re still alive. You have no heart.”

Blaze’s mouth twitched, one corner turning up into a smirk. “Exactly.”

I stepped in. “We’re not doing more than giving you a few guns. There’s no point in talking anymore.”

“Fine,” Angie said. “At least stay up here until we calm everyone down, then we’ll come get you.”

We agreed. As they walked down the stairs, I heard Blaze mutter, “Fucking commies,” one last time.

* * *

A kid stood near the willow, partially shrouded in the opaque whiteness of fog. She had her back to me, but I’d seen what she looked like earlier when she was still shambling around.

Besides the vicious slit in her throat, she looked quite normal. Long brown hair, still in pigtails, lay against her back. She wore a pink shirt under denim overalls. Ropes were still wrapped tightly around her wrists. Evidence she was one of the crazies escaped victims. I’d been watching her for at least an hour.

I wasn’t worried about looking out the back window. The willow tree blocked vision from the few buildings behind us, and since Blaze wasn’t interested in conversation, I was left to make my own fun. Watching an undead child wasn’t necessarily fun, but it was something mindless to do.

When we first went up there, while watching the backyard, a handful of zombies broke through the weak gate and shambled in. They banged on the wall and backdoor for a while, but as per the norm, left upon finding no lunch available.

The noise must’ve scared the survivors because neither Michael nor Angie had come up yet.

“She gone yet?” Blaze asked.

“No.” I sighed. “I’m about ready to help her along.”

Stiffly, I stretched out my legs. The hollow upstairs amplified the sound of my boots scuffing against the plywood floor. I pictured everyone downstairs cringing, thinking the crazies outside could hear it. How could they live like that? Rats, scurrying into dark corners whenever a threat presented itself. I’d rather die.

I checked on Pickle a few times, but didn’t let her out. She seemed tired. When I pet her, I noticed her breathing was shallow. All the stress was piling up on her, but I couldn’t help that. Every part of me wanted her to make it through this. Whenever I looked at her, I denied the possibility of her dying.

The sound of engines startled me from my dark thoughts. Shouts and movement outside followed the idling engines. I moved to the front windows, keeping my body to its side, and peered out.

A ring of men formed. They were faced away from the house, rifles pointed at the oncoming undead. Behind them was a smaller, inner ring of men scanning the perimeter. There were so many, they formed a fence from bodies. They picked off the Zs that drew too close.

To top it off, three ATVs waited with gun-toting men. Another six were visible, standing around near them. They formed a protective triangle around a big truck with a flatbed. Right below me, on the side of the house, four of them moved along the wall. The pleasant sunshine of late morning lit the entire scene.

These must have been the ex-followers Michael and Angie were going on about. They certainly looked crazy and on a mission.

I returned to Blaze. She looked up at me, and then ground her cigarette into the floor. In that flat, unmoved voice of her, she said, “We’ve got a problem.”

Picking up my rifle, I slid out the clip. My wishing paid off. I had a full clip inside the carbine. To my dismay, my vest pockets yielded no more ammunition.

“Yeah. They’re here,” I said.

“I think we should just stay up here.” Blaze sat up.

Downstairs we heard a few loud bangs, like knocking on a door.

“Why’s that?”

“We know they want to come in and steal a few. They’re
all
down there, and there’s going to be a hell of a lot of chaos. They might not even come up here, especially since the upstairs looks abandoned.”

I grinned. “Clever, Wright. Very clever.”

She leaned against the wall, rifle in her hands. I did the same.

“You know what Gabe would’ve done if she were with us?”

Blaze shook her head. Her eyes flashed as she rolled them at me.

“She would’ve demanded we try to save them. It would’ve ended with the butt of my gun in her head,” I said.

“You think too much, Cyrus. We just hang out up here and wait things out. If it ends without them coming up here, it’s over with and we leave.”

“Think too much? I don’t think so.”

“You should take up smoking.” She pulled a carton from her jacket pocket then handed the silver and red Marlboro box to me, waggling her eyebrows. “Never too late to start.”

Just to please her, I took the cigarettes and put them in my backpack. The idea of pleasing Blaze appealed to me. I wanted her recognition.

“They’re coming in downstairs,” she said. “Don’t lose your cool.”

Grinning, I replied, “Do I ever?”

The door gave way. A loud crash was followed by screams and scuffling. A yawning sense of guilt ebbed into my mind and I couldn’t push it away. There were people downstairs that were going to—

Gunshots rang out. A bullet burst through the plywood a few feet away from us, sending dust and shards of wood everywhere. Downstairs the shrieks elevated. Commands were shouted, but I couldn’t make anything out at first.

“Go upstairs…” “woman” “…camouflage.”

My mouth went dry. I looked at Blaze, who frowned pensively and brought her rifle up, aiming it at the top of the staircase. They must’ve been watching us since we drove into town and left the Mustang.

Feet pounded up the stairs, bringing a flood of grimy survivors rushing for the corners. Blaze didn’t open fire, but I followed suit and aimed as well.

Then a man wearing a ski mask, holding a shotgun, rushed up and in the room. I let Blaze take the shot, which she did with accuracy. The man’s head jerked back and blood splattered onto the wood behind him. His heavy body thudded down the stairs, creating outraged shouts.

“We need to get out of here!” Blaze yelled. “Alternate route!”

I didn’t like taking commands, but she was right, and a better shot than I. I assumed she would provide cover while I found another way out—which would be where, exactly?

While pushing skeletal figures out of my way, I ran to the window. My hopes were fulfilled. None of the men on the ATVs, or any others, were visible. They either went into the house or were somewhere else. Where they were, I didn’t care. What mattered was the porch covering right underneath the window I was at. All I had to do was open the window, then Blaze and I could easily jump onto the roof and tumble off into the yard. It was only a ten foot drop, and we might get hurt, however…

What other option do we have?
I thought. It
’
s not like we can run downstairs. Who knew what the fuck was going on down there, or how many of the crazies were below rounding up people to take.

I flipped the tiny lock on the window and slid it open. Lucky for us, it opened to the side, which granted a lot more room for escape.

Blaze let off another round, and I spun around to find survivors and crazies alike pushing past each other to get upstairs. All the commotion reminded me of stirring old fruit and watching fruit flies spread out. I wasn’t sure where her bullet went, but I shouted for her as I kicked the screen out and flung a leg over the windowsill.

Hot sunshine beating down on me, I stood on the roof ready to go. I slung the rifle on my back and shifted so I could help Blaze through.

Except she wasn’t there. She was being dragged to the staircase by two beefy men. With great vigor she struggled, but the two thugs were taller and definitely heavier. She didn’t have a chance.

Rage filled me as I clumsily climbed back through the window. The two saw me, clearly understanding my mission, and shouted for help.

In a swift movement, I released my 9mm from its holster and brought it up.

“Let her go, you fucker!”

They didn’t reply, but kept moving toward the staircase. There were only five or six feet between us. Her captor’s bloodshot eyes gleamed and his sweaty, thick hands clenched her arms.

I squeezed the trigger and a bullet soared right into the left one’s shoulder, knocking him back. He let go of her, but they had already reached the staircase. Two more crazies showed up, dragging her down.

My emotions got the best of me and I couldn’t see straight. I had to save her. I took aim and fired at the one coming toward me, but I only grazed his arm. Before I knew it, he had me on the ground, beating my face in.

Blood filled my mouth, and a second after that I saw stars. While they beat me to death, some of the fucking lunatics led Blaze away.

I didn’t see things happening this way. Actually, I couldn’t see anything at all after he smacked my head into the ground a final time.

Nothing was worse than waking up from beating-induced unconsciousness. Well, I’m sure some things were worse, but at that moment, I couldn’t think of anything that was.

Sticky, thick blood coated every crevice of my mouth. I inhaled and wheezed in pain at the tight feeling in my chest.

“He’s waking up,” someone whispered.

Just because I knew I had to, I cracked my less inflamed eye open and looked around. Dirty, frightened people stared back at me. They kept their distance, pressing up against the walls.

A face I knew hovered over me.

“They’ve taken two of us. A little girl and a woman,” Angie said coldly. “They also took that woman who was with you.”

Like I didn
’
t already know.

Mentally bracing myself, I sat up. My back popped and cracked as I moved, stiff from being on the wood floor for so long.

“How long have I been out?”

Angie’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not like I keep track of time around here.”

Michael came up the stairs and saw me, so I asked him instead. His forgiving, kind self smiled gently at me. “I’d say it’s been at least two hours. You were still breathing, so we didn’t worry.”