Undead 02 The Undead Haze (10 page)

I liked the melee weapon, but it wasn’t looking too good. In fact, it was unusable. Even the strongest bat couldn’t hold up to constant head bashing. I plucked a small sliver of wood from Barbara as a token and slid it into the side pocket of my pack. I gently placed Barbara on the ground and said goodbye. I hoped she fared well.

Before I claimed my new prize, I checked my surroundings once more. Beau still wasn’t back at the truck. I bent down and pried the gun from the creature’s hands and raided his vest. I turned him over and tugged off his pack. The Marine ended up being useful in the afterlife, too.

The Z had three clips of ammunition for the M-4, one clip of 9MM rounds, and a gun kit. More than I could’ve asked for. I stowed them in my pack then dropped the clip in the rifle and counted ten rounds, plus one in the chamber.

After my encounter with the Marine, every step I took made me wonder if the monsters in the cars were trying to escape their seatbelts. I didn’t want to see either way, so I walked back to the truck and waited for Beau.

Minutes passed, yet I didn’t hear or see any sign of him. I took the time to assess the rifle, but that went by quick, too. It was jacked. It could be repaired, though time and patience would be needed. The gun kit would help, as would rags and oil.

The pet store caught my eye again. Beau wasn’t back, so I decided to head in.

The front window was smashed and bird cages were tipped over, with skeletal remains stashed among the old newspaper and bird feed. Enough light shone in through the window to show nothing was in there. I stepped around broken glass to the front door. There was no movement from the hair salon to the right or the café to the left.

Pet stores were familiar to me. It was a nonissue to find the rodent section and the untouched store of Mazuri dry food. I grabbed the five pound bag and cradled it in my left arm while I let the carbine balance in my right. I avoided looking at the aquariums and rodent cages, knowing they’d be full of dried out carcasses.

I stepped out of the pet store and heard a faint clinking noise to my left. Moving back into the building for cover, I leaned out of the doorframe just enough to look down the street. A subdued breeze sent pieces of old, torn paper up in a swirl. I still heard the noise but didn’t see anything.

Finally, Beau came into view with a chain slung over his shoulder, keeping close to the buildings. I didn’t think staying close to the buildings was a good idea. If we couldn’t see any undead outside, it probably meant they were inside. I went to the truck to drop off the pet food and met Beau halfway.

The clinking grew louder as I approached. Beau took care not to let the chain drag on the ground. I came up behind him and took up the slack to speed things along.

“Once we move those cars, it’s clear as far as I can see,” I said. “But the noise is going to attract anything in the vicinity. If they aren’t already on their way.”

“I’m aware,” he said. “We’ll go fast and hope for the best.”

Just as we made it to the truck, I felt my neck prickle. I glanced behind me and saw two waiflike forms coming over the crest of the hill. They almost blended in with the gray cement.

“Company. They’re slow.”

Beau looked back, sighing. “Let’s get one of the cars out of the way. We have time for that before they get close.”

We had to move fast. Beau and I got into the truck, slamming the doors a little too hard. He started the engine and pulled a u-turn in the three lane street, backing up to the wreck.

I exited the car without a word, dragging the chain with me. If the wreck had been more reasonable, we could’ve put the car into neutral and pushed it out of the way. But the two cars were tangled, one of them seeming to morph into the other. I went to the back of the larger car, a Jeep, and started wrapping the chain around the hitch.

It didn’t take long before I attached the other end to our truck. The undead I saw before were getting closer, close enough that I heard their agitated groans. Once satisfied with the chain, I withdrew my handgun and gave Beau the go-ahead. I jogged away from the truck and toward the slows. They were coming faster than I originally estimated. I knew bullets would have to be spent. I thanked the Marine again. That one clip he had could mean the difference between life and death for me.

To my right, the chain snapped. The scrape of metal on metal sounded as the cars slowly pulled apart. The screech was so deafening, I dubbed it a zombie dinner bell. The Z’s in front of me stepped faster. Bringing up my sight, I tracked one of their heads, waiting till the perfect moment to pull the trigger. It crumbled to the ground, but its companion kept coming, unfazed. I repeated the process, and that one went down too.

The kills only bought us minutes of safety, but I hoped that’s all we would need. More of them came from the cross streets and hill ahead. I glanced behind me at the wreck as the Jeep completely dislodged from the other car. Beau dragged it until there was plenty of room to maneuver out.

I rushed back to the truck then dropped the gun off in the front seat. Beau was already getting out, his mouth set in a grim line. He ran toward the Jeep while I unhooked the chain from our vehicle.

One zombie was manageable. Even two weren’t an issue. But when the moans and snarls of a horde drifted downwind, my nerves went into overdrive. There were maybe fifty, but it could’ve been a thousand and we’d be just as fucked. Instead of shaking in my little boots, I stopped thinking about dying.

Beau came up behind me with his end of the chain as I finished. We heaved it into the back of the truck and went for the cab.

The undulating sea of undead moved closer together. I hadn’t seen that many in weeks. I buckled my seatbelt and stared as more came from buildings to join the ranks. Beau pulled a u-turn again and drove to our new exit, leaving the angry mass behind us.

I wasn’t a seasoned zombie-fighter anymore. Due to weeks of inadequate supplies and firepower, my confidence plummeted and fear struck me whenever I had to deal with one. All it took was a fair amount of guns and good health to make me think I was unstoppable.

I wondered if Blaze felt the same.

Beau wasn’t speaking. That didn’t bother me. As long as the road was clear, we didn’t need to do anything but drive. Our truck wasn’t the quietest of vehicles, but the sound was comforting in a way. The heater blew a steady stream of hot air into the cab. A convenience I’d almost forgotten existed.

Outside, dark gray rainclouds moved in. Enough drops already pelted the windshield for Beau to turn the wipers on the lowest setting.

“It’s going to get dark soon,” he said.

Driving took twice as long as it should have for two reasons. First, navigating around even the smallest wreck slowed us down considerably. Second, Beau continued to drive slow, for caution’s sake. Even though there were relatively few wrecks, there was plenty of debris on the ground. Suitcases, coolers, and abandoned bikes all implied people tried to make it on foot. Hitting one of these could result in crashing the truck or doing irreparable damage to it.

It was going to get dark soon. At this time of year, the sun went down around four. Technically we could press on—why not, since we had headlights? But that was exactly why we couldn’t. The noise from the engine was bad enough, but adding headlights would make us a moving beacon for the undead. Once they caught sight of us, they’d be able to follow our general direction for a while. At least in the daytime we blended in with most of the drab surroundings.

We took an exit leading to a town called Lake Stevens, stopping when we spotted an old farm house to the side of the road. The house was shrouded in the white mist of lazy rainfall. It was off the side of the highway in an overgrown field. Behind it was more forest. I’m not sure why the house was there of all places, but it seemed like the best spot to stay.

Beau turned onto a winding dirt road. When we came up to the home, I wasn’t surprised to see most of the downstairs windows broken. Curtains fluttered. I couldn’t see any movement inside.

“Maybe we should stay in the car?” His hesitation was illuminated by green light from the dashboard.

“We’ll be seen,” I said. “Let’s go in and take a look. If it doesn’t seem safe, we can risk it in the car.”

He nodded and pulled around to the back of the house to provide the truck with more cover. The windows here were also shattered and the backdoor was shut.

Pickle looked weak and her breathing was shallow. I found her underneath the back seats curled up inside of a sweater. How could she make it any longer? When I picked her up, she didn’t move or protest. She knew exactly what was happening, and just looked defeated when I zipped her into my pack. I whispered an apology and swung the rifle over my shoulder before getting out of the car. Beau manually locked the doors to avoid the usual loud beeping acknowledgment.

We navigated through the overgrown backyard as best we could, stumbling over unseen clumps of wheatgrass and mole holes.

“Hold off on using your flashlight until we’re inside,” I said.

A twig snapped, Beau tripped, and he cursed. Once he righted himself he asked, “Why?”

“Do you
want
to turn us into a fucking beacon for whatever is out there?”

“No. But you don’t need to be snappy about it.”

Chapter 8

When we reached the house, Beau stopped me. “I should go first. I’m in better shape than you. If there’s something in there, we need to react fast.”

“Right.”
If there is something in there, I’d rather it get you first,
I thought as I motioned him in front of me.

We moved close together at the backdoor and Beau reached out. “Locked.”

Strange. “Come on. Let’s look through a window.”

I brought out my flashlight, making sure not to turn it on until it was pointed only at the window. We flanked the pane next to the backdoor and I leaned in. The curtains were parted, so I shined the light through the small crack. No movement. I nodded to Beau, who pulled the drape aside.

The kitchen was wrecked. All the cupboards were open and ransacked. Broken dishes littered the counters and floor. The sign of a struggle was marked in old blood on the tiled floor. Beyond the kitchen was a single arched doorway.

“Climb through,” I told him.

Beau took a breath before handing me his pipe. He placed his hands on the window ledge and lifted himself up, climbing through. I glanced around while he entered. There was nothing coming from the garden shed or forest beyond.

I turned back to give him his pipe, but he was gone. A moment later the door clicked and swung open.

“Smells old in there,” he said. “But not like they do. Just…unused.”

I knew what he meant. After I went inside and closed the door behind me, I inhaled deeply through my nose. The house smelled stale and abandoned, but lacked the oily rot of the undead. I wouldn’t write off the chances of them being in there, but it was still reassuring.

“Stay on guard. We don’t know anything for sure.”

Neither of us wanted to risk separating, so we began searching the first story together. Each room revealed the same tale of struggle. Chairs were overturned and broken in the dining room. The living room sofas were slashed with long, knife-like cuts that burst with stuffing. Family pictures hung askew on the blood-smeared walls. Despite all the signs of violence we encountered no bodies, living or dead.

Before we went upstairs, we checked the front door. Also locked. I wasn’t sure how the windows were broken, or how there could be so many signs of struggle, while the doors remained locked. Anything could get in through the window. Why bother locking the door? Something was up.

Beau and I stopped dead in our tracks when we heard a floorboard creak upstairs. I pointed the flashlight up the stairs and sharp shadows cast against the walls from the railing. We waited, but heard nothing else.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“It could be nothing.”

“It’s always something.”

I gave him the light and brought up my handgun, aiming at the stairs. We kept walking, slower than before, until I reached the top. Beau came beside me and looked down the long hallway. There were open doors to the right, and at the end was a bathroom. The flashlight revealed dirty white tile. A misplaced wooden chair stood intact near the end of the hall, but nothing came from the doors to the right. To the left there was a single closed door.

“If they knew we were here, they’d be out by now,” Beau said.

“Let’s just wait and give them a chance.”

Minutes passed and nothing came out. The sun had completely set and the house was pitch black, except for features illuminated by our flashlights. Outside, rain beat on the roof. It made hearing difficult. Wind invaded through the busted windows, howling as it passed over jagged glass and split wood.

I shivered despite my gloves and sweaters.

Beau clicked his flashlight off and put it in his pocket. “I can’t do any damage with one free hand.”

“I have the gun. You hold the light,” I told him.

We walked down the hallway and I stayed by Beau’s side. I wasn’t about to let him go up front and be in the line of fire. None of the rooms revealed anything different from downstairs. Furniture was broken and gore dried on the wooden floors. All the rooms we cleared were bedrooms, two of which were clearly boys’ rooms and the other a girl’s. The doors were intact and unlocked.

After checking another room, we turned and stared at the last door at the far end of the hallway. Nothing creaked and we heard no moans from behind the wood.

“Look.”

Beau focused the flashlight on the bottom of the door, where a blanket was rolled up and shoved against the crack. We approached it, waiting for another sound. It came from above us. A slight shift. There was an attic entrance.

“Do you think—”

The whisper triggered the undead in the attic. More urgent shuffling began when Beau spoke. Before we even moved away from under the opening, wood groaned and a form broke through the attic entrance.