I followed. Step for step, I followed the Judge's group and their hostages as they backtracked down the snowy lanes they'd come from. I tried to be sneaky, but there was nothing quiet about my movements. Every step I took sounded like an explosion in my ears as my boots crunched through the snow.
My only comfort was in the fact that the sounds I was making were nothing compared to the group's. If they were trying to be discreet, then they were failing miserably. They were so loud with their march that I was able to follow them by sound rather than sight.
It also helped that I had a good idea as to where they were going.
The only immediate issues I faced were the zombies that had begun to straggle behind, following after the noise. Some were ahead of me and some were behind me and I was highly aware that I was slowly being sandwiched in. All I could do was keep my pace steady and keep an eye out for escape routes.
I had only managed to capture glimpses of the group I stalked, but there were a lot of them. More than I could manage on my own. Frankly, I had no idea what I was doing and as the afternoon sun began to fade behind heavy, overcast clouds, I began to wonder what the hell I was thinking. As much as I'd tried to reassure Ian, I was in way over my head.
I'm not going to live through this.
The thoughts in my head began to haunt me and I was deeply regretting my choices. It was my choice to follow the death march, but it was also my choice that led to it occurring in the first place.
You can't stop.
I knew I couldn't. I'd seen the child being carried by a tall, thin man. I had caught a glimpse of them when I'd turned a corner too quickly and had a clear sight of the group. The little girl couldn't have been more than five or six years old.
I have to save her.
But it wasn't just her. I wanted to save all of them – however many there actually were. It took all the strength and willpower I had, but I focused single-mindedly on that thought and, as the walk went on, that thought became a responsibility. Without knowing it or realizing it, those people had become my people and I was going to go to every length necessary to treat them as such.
I gripped my knife tighter, ignored the zombie tailing me, and tried to make a plan. Almost every single one I came up with resulted in my death.
Anton.
Somehow he felt like the key to my success. He was the wild card in all of this mess and if there was even a chance to get him to turn sides, I had to try.
I tried to think of a way to communicate with him, but my concentration had begun to slip. Nausea quaked my insides and I had to keep swallowing down the bile rising in my throat. My side throbbed with every tiny movement and sweat built up on my brow as I was sure a fever was setting in. Something was very wrong with my body.
Finally, I couldn't hold it in anymore. I stumbled to a street sign and clung to it as my stomach emptied itself of the little contents it had. Tears streamed down my face as I retched over and over again, choking as I tried to breathe through it.
I'm dying.
It was no longer a fear but a fact. Something was horribly wrong. I was getting sicker by the hour and it must have all stemmed from my wound. There was nothing I could do about it, however. I had to keep going and even if I gave up on helping the captured people, I still wasn't sure there was anything else I could do to treat myself.
Focus.
I remembered once hearing that if a person was ever kidnapped, they should do everything in their power to get free before getting to their kidnapper's destination or their life expectancy would drop. While our situation wasn't exactly a simple kidnapping, it was still a hostage situation and one I knew the consequences of – the warning still felt dire. With my body failing, too, I knew that acting fast was not only my best option but potentially my only option.
Wiping my mouth carelessly on my sleeve, I spat into the snow before straightening my spine. Behind me, I heard movement. The shuffled crunches alerted me seconds before a zombie lunged, having finally gotten too close.
I threw myself sideways into the snow and saw stars upon impact. Gritting my teeth through the pain, I had almost no time to recover before the zombie hurled itself on top of me. I thrashed blindly, trying to slash at it with my knife.
The zombie was immensely heavy, crushing me down into the few inches of snow. Its teeth clicked and snapped at the air as I used my free hand to push at its neck, but I couldn't get an angle on it with my knife.
Fight!
The thing was blanketing me and I could feel my arms weakening as the struggle went on. All I had to do was get my knife into its skull. I couldn't understand why it was so hard, but alarm began to prick at the back of my skull when I realized that I was pinned.
I pressed my head back into the snow as the zombie's teeth snapped shut a mere few centimeters from my cheek. Giving up on my knife, I dropped it, needing to use both of my hands to keep the thing at bay.
Not like this!
Using my hands and my hips, I shoved at the zombie, knocking the bulk of its weight onto one side of me and giving myself a chance to breathe. Its sour, rotten scent hit my nose but I didn't even have the chance to gag before its weight set down again, landing almost directly on my would.
I cried out, unable to hold back as excruciating pain shot through my body. My spine curled as I tried to protect my side, but there was no escape and nowhere for me to go. I writhed beneath the monstrosity to no relief.
When my hand found my knife again, I caught it up so quickly that I nearly sliced my palm open. As I strained to keep my neck away from the zombie's snapping teeth, I readjusted my grip on my knife and then slammed the tip of it into the zombie's temple.
The thing instantly slumped, crushing me further. I let out a sobbing, shaking breath as I wiggled myself out from under it. Crawling a few feet away, I gagged on my hands in knees as the pain in my side sent waves of agony through my whole body.
Breathe.
I tried. Wiping at my tears, I made myself calm down. I had to get moving before another zombie caught up. Even more importantly, I had to get moving before I lost track of the group.
Steeling my nerves, I crawled back over to the zombie, doing my best to avert my gaze. I gripped the knife and yanked.
Nothing.
I did it again and again. As hard as I could, I pulled on my knife but nothing happened. No matter how I wiggled and pulled, it wouldn't come free. It was too deeply lodged into the zombie's skull.
Fuck.
Zombies were still all around me. The group was getting too far away. And now, I was weaponless. Kneeling back on my heels, I let out a small, bitter chuckle.
It is what it is.
I could waste time breaking into houses to try to find another weapon, but it was likely that by the time I found anything, I'd have no chance of catching up to the group before they got to their destination.
I should have moved faster.
It was just another regret I'd have to live with. In the meantime, I got to my feet, gingerly holding my side as I stumbled into a walk and then a run.
At least my group is safe.
It was a silver lining. No matter how bad my situation turned, I trusted Ian to get them out and to keep them safe. Even if I failed, I'd still succeed because they'd be okay. The selfish part of me also found comfort in knowing that Ian was moving farther from danger. His safety gave me the bolster I needed for what came next.
Find Anton.
I made him my focus and thought of nothing else. My strides were uneven and unbalanced, but soon enough I found myself parallel to the group, creeping through alleys and backyards as they walked along a long, flat stretch of road.
My eyes stayed glued to Anton once I found him among the dozens of moving bodies. I didn't even lose sight of him when one of his group members took down a zombie with an effortless swing of a bat. The sound of the ping, when the metal bat hit its skull, made the captives flinch, but the Judge's group was eerily calm.
How many zombies have they dealt with?
To have survived as long as they had, I could only assume that they had dealt with everything I had and so much more. They were fearless in a way that only came from being exposed to the most horrendous acts humanity could show them.
How many acts did they commit themselves?
I couldn't forget for a moment what the group was capable of – not when they had more innocent lives in their hands – but I also couldn't forget that Anton was a part of that group. He may have been hesitant but he was also complicit. Putting any hope on him was a massive risk.
And still, one I have to take.
Anton was guarding the side of the group and getting him to break off for any reason seemed impossible. I was mulling over ways to do it when I ducked through a hole in a backyard's fence and then froze. There was a zombie.
It looked no older than Jamie, but was missing half of its left arm – everything from the elbow down was gone. Flaps of torn skin wobbled as it raised its arm towards me, wanting to reach me.
I felt the bile in my throat again but I suddenly knew what to do. Without letting myself overthink it, I dashed headlong for the zombie and caught hold of its arms. It made a move to try and bite me, but I was stronger and used my strength to twist it around and get it in a headlock.
The thing fought me and licked and nipped at my sleeve, but I made it walk with me to the other side of the house where a gate was left open. I ushered the thing as fast as I could, kicking its heels with my toes as the two of us made it past the gate, around the side of the side, and to the street. The group had only just started to pass when I shoved the thing towards them.
The first person to notice the zombie was Anton, but just as I had hoped – he noticed me too. It didn't matter if the others saw me as well. He had seen me and that was enough. I backed away from the street, knowing he would follow.
I backtracked all the way to the back of the house and held my hands up, waiting for the inevitable. Sure enough, within two minutes, Anton came charging around the side of the house, looking over his shoulder frequently.
"They saw me?" I asked, keeping my hands up to show that they were empty.
"You have less than a minute," Anton stated. "You will be caught."
"Probably, but that doesn't matter. What does matter is you have the wrong group."
Anton's face scrunched in confusion. "What?"
"You have the wrong group. I don't know those people."
I watched as Anton's head swiveled between me and the side of the house, looking back as if he was trying to see the group from where we stood. When he faced me again, his gaze was almost accusatory. "They aren't your group?"
"No." I lowered my arms. "They aren't. They're innocent."
Anton's confused expression settled into a deep scowl. I could tell he was mulling over my words, but he was also deeply unhappy with them.
"So." I raised my chin. "What are you going to do about it?"