To Whoevers Listening

Sixteen : Welcome Back

Like David said we should, we make it to Goldview before night fall.

We approach the town cautiously and crouch low to the ground as we walk along the last stretch of road leading down from the mountain. I cling close to David, afraid that if I turn away and look back again, he might be gone. But he sticks with me and I'm grateful every moment.

We come to the edge of a building on the outskirts of town and I sit down for a minute to catch my breath – and try to psych myself up for whatever could come next.

“We should try not to be out at night.,” David whispers back to me as he peers around the building. “More zombie folk seem to come out when the sun goes down.”

I look over at the setting sun. It's about three fingers width away from the horizon, but rapidly falling.

I get back up and come over to crouch beside him to get my first good look at the main street of Goldview since I last drove down it ten days ago.

Cars are parked on the curbs and some have been abandoned in the street, their car doors left wide open. A thin layer of snow covers the pavement and buildings and the criss cross pattern of footprints can be seen in the fading light. One building, which would have once been a book store, has been set alight, the black charring of dead flames left behind on the walls of the two buildings on either side of it who have both been miraculously spared from the fire. But the book store itself has been reduced to rubble and ash. Several other buildings up and down the street have had their front windows smashed in, leaving shards of broken glass in the snow.

But the abandoned cars and vandalized buildings aren't the reason why my heartbeat spikes and my breath catches in my throat.

There are people in the street; dozens of people in various different types of clothing, some wearing their pajamas and others wearing summer gear like tank tops and bikinis, both incorrect for weather like this. The people stumble and shuffle along the street, aimlessly moving forward.

Even from where I'm standing I can see the blood on their bodies; the chunks of flesh missing from their throats, arms, legs, chests; the broken bones that they walk on, uncaring for the pain you'd think it would be causing them.

The entire main street of Goldview is filled with biters.

I grab hold of David's arm to stop myself from falling over.

He looks back at me but I can't seem to tear my eyes away from the horrible sight. Tragedy has a way of catching your undivided attention.

“Moira?” he asks. “Are you okay?”

I blink and finally break away to look at him. I nod.

“Where should we go?” I ask.

“I'm not sure.” he says. “There's too many of them for us to take on alone.”

I agree with that.

David steps back from the corner and leans against the brick wall. He taps it.

“Do you know what this building is?” he asks me.

“Uhh...” I close my eyes and try to recall from memory. “A hardware.”

“Do you know what side the door is on?” he asks. “Left or right?”

“Right, I'm pretty sure.”

He leans back around the corner and scans the street.

“There's three biters in our close vicinity. We can probably make it to the door and break the glass, but at least two of them will be on us by the time we do that.”