HUNGER: The Third Circle of Hell
Chapter VI
“I agree,” Clutch said as we shoveled mud into the hole where Jase’s parents now rested. “Zed sludge is the foulest odor in the world.”
I would’ve chuckled except I was still too focused on breathing through my mouth, my bandana doing little to block the stench. The mud stuck to our shovels, making the process tedious, but we both agreed that Jase needed to know that his parents had received a proper burial.
“I’ll finish up here. You want to finish loading the truck?” Clutch asked.
“Gladly,” I said and jogged away before Clutch could change his mind. I sucked in fresh air, though hints of decay still saturated the air.
Jase had made one hell of a mess in the living room. Frank’s wife hadn’t been too nasty, just a zed corpse with a headshot in the earliest stages of bloating. But Frank could’ve been an extra in a horror film. His head had been nothing but pulp, and from his chest up, he’d been covered in dried blood and sticky brown goo. The blood, if I had to guess, was canine.
Propped outside the front door sat bags and boxes filled with everything we’d found useful in the house. I grabbed the other two rifles Jase had told Clutch about and slid them behind the front seat before loading the remaining food from the cabinets and supplies into the back of Clutch’s black pickup truck.
This morning, Jase had also asked for us to grab his Xbox, and Clutch snorted out a “hell, no” before going off about how we were about to find ourselves in the dark ages. I grabbed the Xbox, anyway.
By the time I’d loaded the last bag, Clutch was headed my way.
He tugged down his bandana and didn’t look happy. “Ready to hit the next stop?”
I swallowed and gave a tight nod.
Neither one of us spoke on the drive to the corn bin where we buried the girl. We strung the bodies of her assailants together with a tie strap and propped them against the corn bin.
Finished, I pulled out a can of red spray paint I’d found at Jase’s house and painted large letters on the bin above the men: R-A-P-I-S-T-S.
I stared at the letters for a couple minutes. With no law enforcement, it seemed fitting to somehow note these men’s crimes. When I tossed the can on the ground, Clutch gave me a nod and headed back to the truck.
We drove around for an hour, scanning for the minivan, and only saw a zed here and there. The bastard was either long gone or had gone to ground, and neither option did us any good. I felt like our duty wouldn’t be done be until we could find the fourth rapist. Only then would the poor girl finally be avenged.
All in all, taking care of corpses took us five hours. We sat in the truck and ate the sandwiches I’d made this morning.
“Check out the warehouse next?” I asked between bites. I had the bolt cutters along, and Clutch had been hankering to get his hands onto all the surplus gear.
He nodded while he chewed.
Not even a minute later, thunder rolled, and the damn rain picked up again. I watched heavy drops pelt the windshield. “It’ll be tough watching for zeds in this.”
“Agreed. We’ll try again tomorrow,” he grumbled as he wiped his hands on his pants.
“At least the storms should keep other looters away, too,” I offered.
He grunted. “We can only hope.” And he started the truck.
By the time we’d returned to the farm, the rain had become relentless. Jase stepped out from his cover under a nearby shrub. With the rain parka, he blended seamlessly into the foliage around him. He unlocked the heavy chain and pushed at the gate. Metal screeched as he shoved it open. Something clanged, and the gate broke free from its rollers and swung out at an odd angle.
“Damn it. I knew we were going to have problems with that piece of shit gate,” Clutch muttered before gunning the engine through the open space. Once through, he jumped out of the truck and I followed.
It took all our strength to right the gate. The wind pushed against us and the hail pelted our heads. Once the gate was back in place, we tied it to the barbed wire fence we’d reinforced with chain link on each side. It wasn’t pretty but it would at least hold the gate and slow down anyone—alive or otherwise—trying to get onto the farm.
A thunderous boom shook the ground. A crack echoed through the air, followed by a large branch off an old maple tree slamming into the ditch behind us.
“C’mon!” Clutch yelled out, his voice a whisper over the wind. “We need to get inside. Now!”
We ran to the truck. Even though there was a backseat, Jase and I both tumbled onto the front bucket seat.
The truck lurched forward, buffeted by the wind that seemed to come at us from every direction. “This one’s going to be bad,” Clutch muttered.
Going to be? Spring storms in the Midwest were known to get nasty. But, maybe because I’d lived in a city where buildings tempered the winds, I didn’t remember a storm this bad in a long time.
Hail bombarded the truck, the noise deafening. When we reached the shed, both Jase and I tumbled out to slide open the large door. The hail hurt, and the wind had become vicious. The sky had turned an ominous green. We started pulling the door shut while Clutch drove the truck into the shed. Once in, he jumped out and helped slide the large door closed.
Hail sounded like an atrocious muddle of drums on the shed’s metal roof.
Then the screaming winds mysteriously stilled and the hail stopped.
We all stood and looked up as if we could see through a metal roof. Chills crawled over my skin.
“That can’t be good,” Jase said.
“We should get to the cellar,” I said. I headed to the side door to make a break for the house, but Clutch stopped me.
“No time. This way.”
Jase and I hustled behind Clutch through the winding stacks of seed corn waiting to be planted and to the far corner of the shed. He moved aside a couple empty pallets to reveal an earthen-colored tarp. He lifted the tarp and opened a round steel hatch.
“Cool! A bomb shelter,” Jase said from behind me.
“I wouldn’t call it that,” Clutch said, getting down on his hands and knees and pulling out a lantern. He pressed a button, the light clicked on, and he handed it to me.
The winds picked up again, howling like banshees, touting impending doom.
Holding the lantern in one hand, I gingerly climbed down the ladder into the dark hole. The small light lit up the dismally small space below. It couldn’t have been more than a five-by-five-foot hole, with the walls taken up by shelves of food, water, and a shotgun vacuum-sealed in plastic. A small square fan covered what I assumed to be the only air vent in the bunker.
Jase landed right behind me. “Cozy.”
The walls were rough concrete, but it still smelled of dank earth. “What is this place, Clutch?” I asked.
“My TEOTWAWKI hole,” he replied after locking the door above us. “Made it myself.”
Sudden silence boomed in the small space.
“The end of the world as we know it,” I clarified to Jase when he shot me a confused glance. Clutch had used the acronym the day I met him, back when I could still rely on the Internet to get my answers.
“I built it to support one person for fourteen days. But it’s tornado-proof, so we’ll be safe for tonight. There’s no way anyone or anything is going to get in here without a blow torch and several hours of extra time.” He tore open a plastic bag and pulled out a metallic sheet. “I have only one blanket, so we’ll have to share.”
As I sat next to Jase and dried my pistol, I wondered what would await us in the shed when we went to open the hatch in the morning.
****
“We could set up a fenced-in pasture out back,” I offered while we sat around a huge breakfast feast, cleaning out the last of the food from the freezer and refrigerator. Since the storm had blown the power out, the mood was somber. My final bite of steak marked the beginning of rationing. Clutch said we’d get used to being hungry. I wasn’t so sure.
More so, it was an eerie feeling to know that there was no one left to bring the power grid back up. Even though Clutch had a generator, he’d made it clear that it was for winter use only. It was old and loud and would only attract attention. It also used diesel fuel, and he had only a couple hundred gallons left in the diesel tank out back that had been used for his farm equipment before the outbreak.
No more TV, radio, or ice. No more Internet. No more email to my parents.
“Livestock will attract zeds,” Clutch countered, bringing my attention back. “Besides, that’s too much meat for the three of us. It’ll go bad too quick.”
“Not if we find goats,” I said.
“Have you seen any goats around?” Clutch said.
“What if we smoked the meat?” I asked.
“Mm, I love jerky,” Jase added. “Can we try it, Clutch?”
He scowled. “That means we’d have to keep a watch on the fire. If it puts out smoke that can be seen over the trees, then we can’t use it. The smell of smoked meat may also pose a risk. It could attract attention.”
“We’ll make sure it’s good and sealed,” I said. “Any risk whatsoever and we won’t use it.”
He watched me for a moment. “And you know how to make a smokehouse?”
I shrugged, and then smirked. “No, but I bet you have something in your library.”
He sighed. “See what you can find. But I check over anything you build before you start a fire in it.”
“Deal,” I said, and Jase gave me a high-five.
“Don’t you first need to build that chicken coop you’ve been talking about?” Clutch added.
I’d planned a pen out of chicken wire and two-by-fours to be connected to the smaller shed so that zeds, wildlife, and raiders couldn’t easily get to the chickens. It wouldn’t be pretty, but it would do the job. “I saw chickens at a farm a couple miles that way.” I pointed. “I’ll pick them up today and put them in the shed until I’m done with the coop. They won’t last long on their own.”
“That’s the Pierson’s,” Jase added. “They’re nice. Moved in just a couple years ago.”
“We’ll stop on our way back from Home Depot if there’s time,” Clutch replied. “If we don’t get that roof patched, we’re going to have serious problems, no thanks to all these rains.”
While we’d huddled together in our underground tomb, a twister had blown through. We’d been fortunate. The machine shed and two smaller surrounding sheds were left untouched except for some dents and bent corners courtesy of wind damage. The storm had uprooted one tree and split another in the backyard, but we decided to leave them where they fell since they provided decent obstacles for zeds.
One of the wood covers had snapped off a ground-floor window—a quick repair. The only real damage was to the roof of the house. When we checked out the roof the next morning, all Clutch said was, “I’ve been meaning to get that roof redone one of these years.”
“And the surplus,” I added. If Clutch thought there was some badass stuff tucked away in the warehouse, it was going to be Christmas for us. I was keeping my fingers crossed for a Jeep.
“It’s going to be a busy day,” Clutch said.
“I’ll stay back and guard the house,” Jase offered.
“Negative. You’re both coming. Home Depot is big. If I knew where I could get shingles anywhere else, I would, believe me. I need extra eyes and ears there.”
“But who’s going to protect the farm when we’re gone?” he asked.
“We’ll lock the gate up good and tight before we go. That should cover us for a few hours,” Clutch replied. “And you can carry in today’s water before you gear up.”
Jase slumped.
I gave him a reassuring pat. With the power out, we had to get our water from the manual pump outside.
A thump against the outside wall sent us all to our feet. “I’ll check it out from the living room,” I whispered, pulling out my pistol. Clutch had upgraded my .22 to a Glock 9mm after the run-in with the rapists, and the weight felt good in my grip.
“I’ll take upstairs,” Jase whispered before taking the stairs three steps at a time.
Clutch nodded and reached for his rifle.
I headed toward the source of the sound and paused, waiting for the next thump. When it came, I took the window on my left and slid open the peephole. The yard looked clear under the overcast sky, though with the peephole, I couldn’t see anything against the walls.
I turned to Clutch who was now behind me and shrugged. When I turned around to look outside again, I found a jaundiced face staring back at me. I jumped. “Shit!”
“Ahhnn.” The zed pounded on the wood and began to chant the meaningless sound over and over as though it was saying, “Let me in.” The window frame vibrated under the pressure.
“Cash?” Clutch asked.
I lifted my pistol, held it just inside the sniper hole, and fired. The pounding stopped and daylight shone through the hole once again.
Jase came running down the stairs a moment later. “The yard’s clear. That was the only one I could see.”
“It never should’ve gotten this close to the house. We need to take shorter breaks with the three of us together,” Clutch said. “No more than fifteen minutes without anyone on guard every three hours.”
“That gives us less time to plan and report status,” I said.
“We should use treadmills,” Jase said.
“What?” Clutch and I asked at the same time.
Jase gave us a wide grin. “Treadmills. We should surround the house with them. Any zed who comes up to the house will step onto a treadmill and will just keep walking and walking. Then we don’t have to stand guard at all.”
“Exactly how are you going to power a hundred treadmills?” Clutch asked.
Jase shrugged. “Solar power, maybe.”
“Oh, solar power. Of course. I’ll pick some up on my next grocery trip,” I said drily.
Jase flipped me the bird. “Jeez, can’t you guys take a joke.”
I smiled, though Jase had a point. It was too hard to find humor in a world that had given up.
Clutch sighed. “C’mon. Let’s hit the road.”
Jase’s smile dropped. “I’ll grab my stuff.”
As we headed out to repair the gate, the weather reflected Jase’s mood. The sun refused to shine, giving reign to a gray mist instead. I felt sorry for the kid. Going into Fox Hills would bring back a lifetime of memories for him. Where he went to school, where his mom picked up groceries—everything we’d drive by would be a stark reminder of what he’d lost.
With the gate back in place and operational, Jase sulked in the backseat while Clutch drove down the gravel road. Jase feigned nonchalance, but in the side mirror I noticed that he stiffened as we drove by the empty ranch house he grew up in. It looked deceptively welcoming, the scene of death hidden within its red brick walls. My overactive imagination feared that Jase’s parents somehow had come back again and dug out of their graves. Fortunately, the house disappeared behind us with no sign of zeds, those related to Jase or otherwise.
Another mile down the road, Jase and I got out to move a small tree that had fallen across the gravel. Broken branches littered the gravel, and one low part over a culvert showed signs that the road had been underwater a few hours earlier.
A bloated zed lay floundering under the shallow rapids of a rushing creek beyond the culvert. Trapped under a log, its arms flapped clumsily at the water.
“I don’t get it,” Jase said from the backseat. “That thing’s probably been underwater all night. How can it still be alive?”
“They’re not alive, they’re just…echoes of life,” I answered honestly. It’s what I told myself every day so that I no longer thought of them as people. When the time came to kill—not in self-defense like when Melanie had attacked me—if I believed that they still felt or thought, I wasn’t quite sure I could go through with it.
When we reached Fox Hills, we had to lay down plywood in the muddy ditch to get around the roadblock. From there, Clutch drove down Main Street, straight through the center of town. The store we needed was on the opposite side of town, and rather than burn precious gas, he’d made the call to risk driving through the more populated areas of town. It also gave us a chance to see how many zeds we’d have to deal with if we were to start looting houses.
Last night’s storm had wreaked havoc on Fox Hills. Plastic trash bins that had lined driveways the day of the outbreak were now strewn about. Garbage was scattered everywhere. Diapers, magazines, and milk cartons littered every open space, looking like the aftermath of a wild party. Every now and then we saw a zed with its head shoved in a garbage bag, going after an easy meal.
“They’ll eat anything,” Jase said.
“Yeah,” I replied, though we all already knew their favorite meal.
Clutch drove around trees that had been ripped from the ground, and their branches crunched under the truck’s tires along with garbage. A tree had smashed a convertible. A Honda and a Chevy were slammed together like bumper cars. Every now and then, we saw a zed lying motionless on the ground, which meant they must’ve taken serious blows to the head during the storm. But the storm hadn’t taken out nearly enough. More zeds than I’d seen last time wandered aimlessly outside, open doors and broken windows the only hints as to where they’d come from, though I suspected most of the zeds still lumbered around inside their homes.
I held the pistol on my lap. I had the tanto, but it was still in its sheath. My real confidence builder was the crowbar I’d found in one of Clutch’s sheds. Whenever we left the farm, I carried the crowbar since the knife was short and required me to get awfully close and personal to do any damage. The crowbar, on the other hand, was a power driver of cold iron.
At the sound of the truck’s engine, zeds turned and lumbered in our direction, sniffing at the air, but as we put distance between us and them, they soon lost focus and returned back to their eerie shuffling.
“Hey, you!” Jase yelled, opening his window. “Over here!”
Several zeds emerged from the shadows, coming at us. At the way their expressions changed when they homed in on us, I could imagine their mouths watering at the sight of three healthy people.
“Damn it, kid. Are you calling every zed to us?” Clutch spat out, stepping on the gas.
“What are you doing, Jase?” I asked.
He kept waving, not answering our questions, but after a moment, he slumped back in his seat. “I saw someone. A lady. But she darted around the corner of that house over there.”
“We ain’t a search-and-rescue, kid,” Clutch said, then added more softly, “Roll up the window.”
“But we have to help others if we can,” Jase countered.
“She didn’t want our help,” I said. I’d seen her, too. She looked in her late fifties or early sixties, and she’d been carrying a baseball bat. We’d made eye contact just before she ran. Was it bad that I was glad that she’d run away rather than toward us? Any orphan we took in was another mouth to feed.
I was pretty sure I saw another couple—a man and a woman—watching us through shuttered windows from a small starter home. I didn’t mention them to Jase. I figured if they needed help bad enough, they’d run to us.
It wasn’t our job to play hero.
Selfish? Hell, yeah.
But honest. And necessary to survive. After all, I was only human.
Besides, after seeing what had happened to the girl at the corn bin, I realized that laws and scruples were no longer viable in this new world. Now, people scared me as badly as zeds.
What I saw next made me burst out laughing.
The guys turned to me, and I pointed. “Look. A zed kabob.” Off to my right, a zed had somehow gotten itself skewered onto a still-upright parking meter, with the thick round top of the meter embedded in its ribcage. Its arms and legs flailed uselessly like it was trying to air-swim. The guys didn’t find it funny, and we continued on.
A stoplight was down in one intersection, and we had to turn around and find a detour. Two more detours past smashed cars and fallen power lines, and we were back on Main Street. I carefully noted every obstruction on a small notepad.
It took us twenty-three minutes to drive six miles through town and to our destination. Home Depot was a new massive store on the outskirts, sidled up against an old elementary school of all things. A wood privacy fence went out from behind the school to enclose what I assumed to be the playground.
A sense of bad omen settled into my stomach. I turned in my seat to face Jase. “When the outbreak hit, when did they let out the schools?”
He shrugged. “I don’t think they officially closed, but I know some parents picked up their kids, anyway. It all happened so fast. At the high school, some of the teachers let us out early, and I drove my bike home. But those who rode buses…I-I don’t know how they got home.”
I grimaced. “I’m guessing school is still in session.”
“You have a bike?” Clutch asked.
Jase nodded. “Mom and Dad got me a kickass Suzuki for my birthday. I’ve been practicing up for motocross. I’m going—I mean, I was going to race at the county fair this summer.”
I could hear the enthusiasm in Jase’s voice bleed out as he spoke.
“The bike’s at your house now?” Clutch asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“Because a bike is the perfect vehicle for us to scout the farm and surrounding area. We’ll pick it up on our way back. Don’t worry. You’ll get plenty of motocross practice in.” He sighed as he turned into the large parking lot. “Add the bike to our ever-growing to-do list.”
Jase gave a low whistle. “That’s a lot of cars.”
“Are you sure there’s nowhere else that might have roofing supplies?” I asked.
Clutch grimaced. “’Fraid not.”
He pulled into an open area toward the back of the parking lot. If zeds came at us, the one thing we had on them was speed. Having the truck at a distance from the store could be a lifesaver when it came to putting space between us and hungry zeds.
We checked our gear and weapons. We left the Kevlar vests at home since they were heavy and zeds tended to go for the face or extremities. With the black Kevlar helmets and gloves, we looked like Special Forces, but I felt nothing like an experienced soldier.
Clutch looked at both of us. “All right, we’ve got to be smart about this. No screw-ups. We get what we need, then we’re out of there. The other supplies in there aren’t worth the risk, not until we know the place is cleared out. We go in silent and we stick together. We know zeds hunt off their senses, so we move slow and silent. Always keep a direct line to the exit. If either of you screw up, I might decide to leave your ass behind. Got it?”
Both Jase and I nodded.
Clutch left the keys in the ignition in case we needed to make a quick getaway, or, worse, in case he didn’t leave the store with us. “Let’s do this. Exactly as I taught you. Follow my lead. Silence from here on out,” he said and opened the door.
I gripped the crowbar. We moved as a trio of dark-colored shapes slowly through the parking lot. I’d expected that we’d have to take out a couple zeds in the parking lot, but nothing emerged from around the cars. Not a good sign. Because the owners of those cars had to be somewhere.
We flattened against the wall on either side of the wide glass entrance, and Clutch bent around to scan the area. He frowned and led us down the sidewalk to the exit door. He scanned the interior longer this time before finally nodding. Forcing myself to breathe, I stepped next to Clutch, holding the crowbar up. The sliding door didn’t automatically open. Just as we’d expected, the power grid for the entire area was down. Clutch pulled at the door while I stood ready to knock back any zed that may attack. Jase stood at our backs, a rifle slung on his back and a long wood-handled axe in his hands.
Clutch pried the door open just enough for us to squeeze through one at a time. Clutch went in first. Once through, he crouched and flattened himself against one of the checkout counters. He held his machete out while he checked the area behind him.
When he gave us the all-clear, I went in next, moving exactly as Clutch had done. When Jase reached me, he tapped my left shoulder. Ready. I did the same to Clutch’s shoulder, just like how he’d made us practice.
Clutch moved to the edge of the counter and looked left and right. After making a quick hand motion, he crossed the aisle, keeping slow and low, until he flattened against the other side. I moved but abruptly pulled back when I saw the zed in the aisle, sniffing at the air. Taking a breath, I waited until it faced the other direction, and I crossed the aisle. Jase followed.
We continued this process, avoiding zeds and following Clutch, as we moved deep into the belly of the store. For the number of cars outside, there were surprisingly few zeds meandering around, which made me wonder exactly where all the drivers to those cars had gone.
Clutch clearly frequented this store because he led us to the aisle we needed without any wrong turns or detours except to bypass zeds. I opened the duffel, and he slid in several heavy stacks of shingles. Jase stayed at my back and scanned the entire time.
“Uh, guys?” Jase whispered.
I glanced up to see a zed come around the corner and into our aisle. It’d been badly gnawed. One of its arms was nothing but white bone and stringy sinew. We didn’t move, hoping it wouldn’t see us.
We weren’t that lucky.
It only took a couple seconds for the zed to sniff the air and home in on us. It moaned and stumbled toward us. It’s like a friggin' bloodhound, I thought to myself. Clutch stood, walked right up to it, and swung, his machete taking off the top of the zed’s head with a single powerful slice. The zed collapsed, and he caught the body just before it hit the floor and laid it down quietly.
He returned and grabbed the duffel as though nothing happened. On our way out, we nearly walked into a small group of zeds and were forced to backtrack. As we neared another aisle, Jase nudged me. “Look,” he whispered and pointed at a glass display case.
My mouth opened, and I tugged Clutch and then pointed.
He saw the display case, looked around, and then headed toward it. On proud display behind the glass was a little piece of heaven. Small camping axes, knives of all sizes, and the Cadillac—black machetes. While Clutch’s arsenal of rifles and pistols was impressive, he had few blades, with the exception of a machete and a wood axe, his blades were knives.
He felt around the back of the display case, then around the edges. When the glass didn’t slide open, he grabbed Jase’s axe.
“It’s locked. Get ready to move fast,” Clutch whispered. “Know what you want, and grab it. Don’t try for everything. We head straight to the truck two seconds after this breaks.”
He stood, laid an empty duffel against the glass, and then brought down the heavy end of the axe. Even with the fabric, the sound of breaking glass echoed through the store.
Clutch grabbed a couple small axes in one swoop, and then got out of the way. Jase and I were smaller and could reach in at the same time. We both went for the machetes, and then I grabbed an axe, sliding both into my belt.
“Let’s go,” Clutch said aloud, and we headed down the aisle.
We made it two rows over before we hit a roadblock of a half dozen zeds. We turned to the left and ran. Jase pulled ahead, though Clutch was quick. I struggled to keep up, my shorter legs a clear detriment in outrunning zeds.
The guys came to a screeching halt in front of me. The zeds had discovered the opened door, and had flocked toward it, moaning as they pressed through. That was, until they saw us, and their moans grew in volume as they changed direction en masse toward us.
A quick glance at the entrance door proved no better option.
Clutch looked around. “There’s a door to the lumberyard on the side.” He took off at a run. We followed, weaving around stray zeds. Clutch kicked the door open, and we burst outside.
I sucked in a breath.
At least fifty zeds turned our way. They must’ve fled outside when the outbreak happened, only to be corralled in the lumberyard. The herd moaned and came at us. We ran toward the front gate, only to find it locked with a big ass padlock.
“Oh, shit,” Jase said. “We’re so dead.”
We couldn’t go back inside because we’d already drawn the attention of every indoor zed. The herd closed in. Some were wearing orange vests with nametags, others in casual jeans and T-shirts.
“We need to get to higher ground. Stay with me,” Clutch called out and led the charge.
He ran toward the herd, and then cut to the left to dodge outstretched arms. Jase was insanely fast and moved ahead of Clutch in no time. By the time I reached the corner, the herd had blocked off the aisle the guys had taken, and I cut to the right, jumping over a stack of hoses. A zed stood in my way, and I swung the crowbar, smashing its head and knocking him to the side. I kept running, dodging zeds, swinging only when I had to, until I found the guys again.
Jase was climbing the lumber stacks on long shelves lining the back wall. Clutch had climbed into a forklift and was headed straight toward me. I ran to the side as Clutch skewered the closest zed. He jumped off the still-moving forklift and quickly caught up to me. “Get your ass in gear, Cash!”
With one final surge, I flung the crowbar onto the second shelf before leaping for a stack of two-by-fours. I’d been working out, but one week of strength-building didn’t cut it. I awkwardly held on to the end of a two-by-four and prayed it wouldn’t give. When it didn’t move, I swung, trying to get my leg over the edge. A zed grabbed onto my foot, and I kicked out. Its grip relaxed enough, and I used its head to step off, pushing myself onto the shelf.
Clutch had also leapt onto the shelf, though he made it look easy.
Gasping for air, I got back on my feet, and followed Clutch. I grabbed on to a metal shelf post, and pulled myself up to the next level. A gloved hand reached out from above, and I grabbed on, letting Clutch pull me up to the stack he and Jase were on. I hugged on to him as soon as I felt the solid surface under my knees.
Still on a knee, Clutch pulled back and looked me over. “You all right?”
I nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”
“Come and get us, you stinky zed bastards!” Jase yelled out, flipping the zed the bird. Jase was on his knees, panting, looking over the edge.
“Jesus,” I said. “You’re a freaking mutant, Jase. I’ve never seen anyone run that fast.”
He grinned. “State 100-meter and 400-meter relays. Twice. Not to mention Fox Hills’s varsity football team’s best tight end.”
I couldn’t help but smile. Until I looked over the side. The zeds gathered below, looking up, reaching and groaning, as though begging us to come back down. Some tried to climb, but they fell back after the first step.
We’d use up all our ammo to clear out the herd below. And who knew how many more the noise would draw out. Already, the zeds from inside the store were filtering outside to join the soggy herd already surrounding us. Why were there so many here? It had taken Alan nearly an hour to turn. That should’ve given most of these folks time to get home and turn there. Though, I remember the news had said that the worse the injury, the faster they turned. Many of the zeds below had serious bites.
And they looked ravenous.
I glanced at Clutch, who seemed to be thinking the same thing.
“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s get to the top.”
I poked my head out and looked up. There were three more shelves to climb. The fact that I was scared of heights did nothing to help my nerves. Jase took the lead. He climbed like a monkey, amped up on pure adrenaline. Clutch went next. Even with the heavy duffel and being laden with weapons, he climbed like he carried little extra weight. I double-checked my weapons to make sure they were secure, and I started to pull myself up the side. It was like climbing a rope on a jungle gym, except the bars were unforgiving, and if I fell, I’d get eaten.
At each level, Clutch helped pull me up, and we took a few minutes to rest, although I think it was mostly for my benefit. If it hadn’t been for the gloves, my hands would’ve been raw. Even with the gloves, I felt blisters forming.
Once we reached the top, I lay down on the stack of thick plywood and panted. Clutch scanned the area, and I pulled myself up to gauge the situation. Large shelves holding stacks of wood, blocks, and boxes lined the three walls. We had plenty of horizontal movement up here, but getting to the ground without becoming zed-food would be a challenge.
Clutch set down the duffel. “You two stay here. I’m going to check things out.”
I pulled myself up as Clutch leapt onto the next shelf over. He moved slowly but with a gracefulness that belied his size as he leapt from one shelf to the next. I looked out over the wall to see open countryside. A zed shambled along here and there, but otherwise, it was wide-open. The problem was we were a good twenty feet up, without any ladder or rope to get down the wall.
“We’re so dead,” Jase said at my side. “We’re going to die, aren’t we?”
I punched him in the arm. “I don’t ever want to hear you say those words again. Clutch will figure out something.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied quietly.
We sat in silence after that. When Clutch finally returned, Jase didn’t complain, not once.
“Find anything promising?” I asked.
Clutch pulled off his helmet and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s a hell of a jump, but the roof of the elementary school looks like our only shot. Our other option is to wait it out and hope these guys move on.”
“You think they’ll move on?” I asked.
“No chance in hell,” Clutch quickly replied.
I slid my gloves back on. “I guess we’d better get going then.”
The shelf we needed was four over from the one we were on, and I moved more cautiously than Clutch. Once I reached the shelf, I looked over at the school. “For once, I wish you were exaggerating,” I grumbled. When he’d said it was going to be a big jump, he should’ve said it was going to be an Olympian feat. Not only was the roof nearly a good five feet lower, there was what looked like an eight-foot gap between the shelf and the roof. If I didn’t make the roof, the fall would likely kill me.
To make matters worse, a lone zed was stuck in the alley, blocked on one side by the playground fence and the other by a car. It was on the ground, its legs mangled as though it had been caught between the car and the fence at some point, and it had dragged itself around in circles, if the brown trail was any indication.
“Oh, Jesus—”
My glare cut off Jase’s words and he clamped his mouth shut.
“If I go first,” Clutch said. “One of you will have to throw me the duffel.”
I almost chuckled at the absurdity. There was no way I could throw a fifty-pound bag two feet, let alone fifteen. “I’ll go first,” I said. “I’ll catch.” What I meant was, I’ll use my body to block the bag’s momentum and hopefully not die upon impact.
He nodded, and I backed up to the edge of the shelf overlooking the lumberyard. If I thought about it, I knew I’d freak, so I didn’t wait. I took three big breaths before sprinting forward. At the other edge, I kicked off into a scary-as-shit long-jump. Just when I thought I’d never reach the edge of the roof, I landed on the flat surface, falling forward instantly. The air whooshed from my lungs, and my teeth snapped shut painfully when I hit my chin. I slid down a couple feet before coming to a stop on the abrasive shingles.
I rolled over and coughed and wheezed.
“You okay?” Clutch called out, and I held up my thumb.
Once I could breathe again, I pulled myself up and inched my way back up to the peak. “Throw me the bag.”
Clutch held up the bag, and I held out my arms and swallowed. Jase stood off to the side, watching with wide eyes. Clutch swung the duffel in a wide arc and released it with a grunt. I stood there and waited for the smack-down, and Clutch’s aim was dead-on. The duffel hit me square in the stomach, and I fell backward, holding it to me. I slid several feet down the roof, but the duffel’s canvas helped slow my descent. By the time I sat up, I found Clutch on the roof with me.
“Nice catch.”
I coughed and handed him the duffel. “I don’t think I have tits anymore.”
He gave that deep rumble of a chuckle, heaved the bag onto his back, and winced.
“Your shoulder?”
He rubbed it. “Yeah. Twisted it when I threw the duffel.”
He reached out with his other hand and helped me to my feet. We looked over at Jase. He stood there, frozen. The zed in the alley was groaning, reaching up.
I motioned him over with one hand while still holding my bruised ribs with my other. “You can do it, monkey boy.”
He looked down once more and then slowly backed up. With a half-crouch, he rocked back and forth before kicking off. He easily closed the distance and landed solidly on the roof. But his footing gave way, and he kicked out and went tumbling down the side. He grabbed at the roof but kept sliding until he disappeared over the edge.
“Jase!”
Clutch and I moved cautiously down the angled roof to the edge. Jase was on the ground, holding onto his ankle. Instead of the parking lot side, Jase had fallen into the playground. Shit. I scanned the enclosed area but saw no movement.
Jase winced. “My ankle. I think it’s broken.”
“Can you stand?” Clutch asked.
Jase grunted, was able to get to his feet, but he favored his right leg.
“Good. Now, do you see a door in the fence? Or, is there anything around you can use to climb back up here?”
As Jase looked around, I scanned the privacy fence, but found only a gate at one end, and it had a large, shiny padlock on it.
“There’s nothing down here,” Jase said, holding up his hands in defeat.
“Jase, do you see any zeds around?” I asked.
“Not out here. I see some inside, though. Oh, God. They see me.”
“Bloody hell,” I muttered. “I’ll handle this.”
Clutch eyed me. “Cash…”
“He’s injured. I’m not. You can pull me up once we get Jase to safety.” Before I had a chance to think about how dumb the idea was, I shimmied down, holding onto the edge until I had to let go. The drop sent shockwaves up my shins, but I landed without twisting anything.
“Godammit, Cash,” Clutch said from above.
I also heard a small pounding behind me. I turned to see children watching us through a classroom window. They were young, one of the earlier grades, and they were no longer alive. They watched us hungrily, smacking their small hands against the glass.
I hooked my fingers together to make a step. “Climb up, and be quick about it.”
Jase didn’t argue. With a grunt, he stepped into my cupped hands with his good leg. I lifted his weight as high as I could, using my legs. Clutch reached down from the roof. It wasn’t quite enough. Jase stepped onto my shoulder, and then his weight vanished. I looked up to see his legs disappear onto the roof.
Clutch reappeared an instant later. “Now get your ass up here, Cash.”
I jogged around the playground, looking for a jump rope but finding only rubber balls and jungle gyms. I fidgeted with the padlock at the gate, but I had nothing to pick the lock with, not that I even knew how to pick a lock. I tried to jump up to grab the top of the privacy fence, but it was too high. With a sigh, I looked at the windows, each filled with hungry, hollow little faces.
“Is there any rope in the truck?” I asked.
Clutch thought for a moment. “I’ve got tie straps.” He moved. “I’ll come down, and you can go grab them.”
I held up my hand. “No. Then you’ll be stuck down here. Go for the truck.”
Glass shattered, and I jerked around to find a teacher stepping through the now-broken window. I pulled out my new machete. “Get Jase to the truck. I’ll catch up.”
“We’re not leaving,” Clutch yelled back.
I swung the machete, nearly decapitating a teacher with its hands and forearms covered with little bites. “Go. Hurry!” I wasn’t used to the blade, so my aim was off. The second swing killed it. Small zeds tumbled out of the window. A gunshot rang out. A boy in jeans and a sports jersey dropped. Another shot. A girl with pigtails dropped. Several more shots and the rest of the zed kids dropped. The ones still held inside were pounding harder on the glass now, in a frenzy to get out.
I looked up at Clutch to find him reloading. “The shots will draw more zeds to the school,” I yelled up. “Take Jase and get to the truck before the parking lot fills up.”
“No,” Clutch replied.
I watched him. More glass behind me shattered. “I won’t let you die for me.” After a quick glance at the newcomers, I went for the only door that I knew would be unlocked.
“Cash!”
I pushed open the glass door with my left hand, and swung the machete at the first zed with my right. The kid went right down. The hallway was not nearly as congested as the classrooms, which I noticed nearly all had their doors closed.
I jogged down the hallway, shoving zed kids out of my way, thankful for the thick gloves and jacket I’d worn. A zed could bite through it eventually, but at least it’d have to work at it.
I turned the corner into the main hallway and froze. A couple dozen three- and four-foot tall zeds with three adult zeds turned to face me. One growled, and the groans began. They lurched forward.
I spun around to backtrack, but the hall had filled in behind me as well, with a zed wearing a tag reading HALL MONITOR leading the group. I lunged for the double door to my left and jumped inside. After making sure the door was shut tight, I spun on my heel.
“Shit.”
I’d found the school cafeteria. Food trays were scattered across the floors. The buffet line had been ravaged. Several bodies, with most of their skin and muscle gone, were sprawled on the floor, covered in writhing maggots. And now, the large room was full of food-stained, bloodied zeds, and every single one of the bastards were focused on me.
They staggered toward me with outreached arms, and I jumped up onto a table, then onto the next table, sliding through spaghetti sauce that I knew wasn’t really spaghetti sauce.
I slid the machete in my belt and leapt, grabbing the fluorescent light hanging from the ceiling. Surprisingly, it held. Miraculously, my adrenaline helped me pull myself up, safely out of reach of the small arms. But larger arms connected to zeds in lunch lady uniforms reached perilously close.
“I’m not going to die,” I muttered and punched up at the ceiling. The white panel moved, and I realized this was one of those drop-down ceilings that allowed space for wiring and cables.
Gripping the metal frame, I swung and kicked up, knocking out another white panel, and catching my foot on the frame. Using the strength of my legs, I was able to pull myself up and above the frame.
A sea of jaundiced dead faces looked up at me, growling, reaching, and chomping. I moved carefully and slowly onto the next frame, careful to distribute my weight over two rows of metal framing. I had no idea how much weight these ceilings were meant to hold, but they sure as hell couldn’t have been built for human travel.
I crawled over one panel to the next, pausing every few panels to catch my breath. My directions were jumbled in the darkness. I had no idea if I was heading toward the parking lot, back to the playground, or if I was going in circles. I lifted the edge of the panel to find that I was still in the cafeteria. Zeds stood under the opening I’d made in the ceiling in the opposite side of the room, still looking up, sniffing the air, reaching, mouths opening and closing like baby birds.
A crack of light filtered in through the corner I’d lifted and lit up the wall of concrete blocks in front of me. Shit. The ceiling ended where the wall separated the cafeteria from the hallway. My arms and legs were already shaking. I had to figure out something or else I’d fall right down into the cafeteria again. Except this time, I’d never have the strength to get back up here.
But there was nothing up here except space, wiring, and…air ducts. My attention shot to the large duct leading straight through the center of the cafeteria and through the concrete wall. Many smaller ducts ran off it like a spider’s legs. Ducts looked so much bigger in the movies, but I prayed that this one would be big enough. It had to be.
I made my way toward the metal duct. Sweat burned my eyes and tickled my neck as rivulets ran down to soak my shirt. By the time I reached the duct, I was exhausted and clumsy, nearly tumbling off the ceiling grid twice. I moved alongside the duct until I found where one section ended and another began. Both were held together by screws. I pulled out my tanto and used the tip to unscrew the first screw, and then the next. It was a painfully slow process to take out the six screws on the sides I could reach.
I pushed against the duct but it didn’t budge. Trading my knife for the axe, I pulled back a few measly inches and swung. The metal clanged and dented, echoed by moaning and shuffling below. A couple dozen hits later, the duct broke open. I slid the axe inside and shoved myself through. Sharp metal from the axe’s damage dug into me, but I continued to squeeze into the tiny boxed-in darkness until I filled up the area of the duct.
I sneezed in the dust-laden air, causing the zeds below to echo with moans. Using my elbows, I pulled myself forward. I could see nothing except light filtered in from vents every eight feet or so.
At each vent, I paused and looked down. The hallway was filled with shoulder-to-shoulder zeds sniffing the air. When the duct split into three pathways, I decided to head left over the hallway, hoping it would bring me to the front doors. I followed the duct, through several more intersections.
I sobbed out in exhausted frustration. My cramped muscles burned. My helmet clanged against the metal, but there was no space to take it off and leave it behind. When I finally reached a vent where I could see the front doors, I rested my head against the vent and nearly cried.
The glass doors were blocked by zeds.
Biting back a whimper, I backed up about ten feet until I came to an intersection and I took the first right. This duct led to a room with a couple office-style desks. It wasn’t a classroom, which gave me some hope.
Seeing no movement below, I fidgeted with the vent until I figured out how to remove it, and it dropped, landing on the floor with an echoing clang. Something moaned, and a shadow moved. A female, wearing khakis and a blue blouse with dark stains, stepped on the vent and looked around.
“Can’t I get a break?” I muttered.
Moving slowly, I reached out of the duct with the axe. The zed must’ve heard something because it looked up right as I swung. The axe caught it in the forehead, and it tumbled back, taking the axe with it.
I grabbed my machete and waited for another one, but none came. I breathed in and out and waited. Dropping down feet first into a room with possible zeds was not my idea of a good time.
Careful to not bang my helmet on the metal, I lowered my head out of the vent to scan the room. It was an office with two desks and glass walls. The principal’s office was just on the other side of the glass wall to the right, and it was still occupied by a zed in a tailored skirt suit. She rocked on her feet, looking out the window.
The other glass walls faced two angles of the hallway, giving full views of the zed near the front doors. At least both doors were closed, but I had no idea if they were locked or would hold back the weight of zeds pushing against them.
I’d be in a fishbowl the moment I dropped.
Like the principal’s office, the fourth wall had a nice wide window overlooking the school parking lot. I could make out only one zed, and it was trapped inside a car. Maybe the zeds who’d escaped the Home Depot had followed Clutch’s truck when he left with Jase.
God, I hated maybes.
Unless the window was heavily tinted, the sun had nearly set, which meant I’d been crawling around this place for at least eight hours. I wasn’t the least bit surprised, not with how exhausted and thirsty I was. I even wondered if I’d be able to stand once I got out of this duct. My stomach had quit growling hours ago. My throat was parched, and my clothes were soaked.
I pulled my head back in, and shimmied forward over the opening so that I could back up and drop feet first into the room. I would’ve preferred to go head first to see around, but the opening was too tight, and there would be nothing to grab onto to keep me from breaking my neck from the drop.
After sliding the machete back into my belt, I squeezed through as quietly and motionlessly as I could to not draw attention. About halfway through, I heard a pounding on the glass. I shoved myself through the rest of the way, and I finally popped through, dropping onto the floor.
The moment I landed, every zed, including the principal, clambered to get to me. Putting a foot on the dead zed’s chest, I grabbed the axe handle and yanked it free. I ran to the window, swung the axe, and the glass shattered apart. The hallway door behind me cracked. I saw a handbag under the desk. I grabbed it and jumped on the desk and through the window.
I had no time to barricade the window, and I started running through the parking lot. Clutch’s truck was long gone, which I’d expected. They would’ve been idiots to wait around to get overtaken by zeds for the slightest chance that I’d survived.
Three zeds came out from around a minivan in front of me. I stopped, dropped the purse, and pulled out my Glock. Three shots. Three went down.
Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I ran to the car where I’d seen the zeds and ducked behind the trunk. I dumped out the contents of the large purple purse, and sifted through the pile of crap that had tumbled out until I found the one thing I needed. Coming up on a knee, I held up the car key, and hit the unlock button. Lights flashed and chirped on a car parked near the front door.
Five zeds had already emerged through the broken glass window. It wouldn’t take long for the parking lot to be flooded. With the Glock in one hand, the key ring dangling off my pinky, and the axe in another, I ran toward the car.
The zeds staggered toward me, but I was faster. With a cursory look through the car’s windows, I yanked open the car door and climbed inside.
Dropping the axe on the passenger seat and the gun on my lap, I slid the key into the ignition. The engine started with pop music blaring from the speakers, and I shoved the gear into reverse. The car barreled over the zeds coming around behind and struggled as it dragged itself over the bodies.
I needed a tank. I got a Prius.
Zeds stumbled at the car, and I swung the car around, shifted gears, and peeled out. I took off my helmet and threw it onto the seat next to me and turned off the CD player before picking up speed. I barreled right down Main Street, taking out another four zeds on my way through. The Prius was no truck and one of the zeds clung onto the hood for several blocks before I finally managed to throw him off.
The compact car wasn’t made for demolition, but I was counting on its gas mileage. It showed a near-empty tank of gas (who the hell drives on an empty tank?), but being a Prius, the computer indicated it had plenty to get me back to the farm. I sped straight back through town the way we’d come this morning, and nearly ran into a Humvee at the second detour. It was full of people, including the couple I’d seen this morning.
The blond guy manning the .30 cal machine gun on top waved me down. He might’ve been a soldier, or he might’ve been friends with the bastard raiders from earlier. I stepped on the gas, and the tires actually squealed as I sped away.
The Humvee followed for several blocks before slowing and breaking away. I checked the rearview mirror all the way back to the farm to make sure I wasn’t followed. When I reached the lane, I found the gate closed but unlocked, and I frowned.
This wasn’t like Clutch. He never made mistakes like this.
I didn’t have the strength, but somehow I managed to slide the gate open and then closed and locked it. As I drove down the lane, I scanned the trees for raiders and zeds, but my eyes could barely focus. My body was way past its limits. I prayed that the farm was still safe because I wasn’t sure I could defend it.
When I pulled into view of the house, I cried out with relief. Clutch stood at the truck, holding two rifles and a shitload of ammo. He set everything down. “Cash!” he yelled, jogging toward me.
I got out of the Prius, and stumbled to my knees. Adrenaline had abandoned me, leaving me utterly without strength. But then Clutch was there, picking me up.
“You’re safe now,” he murmured as he carried me into the house.
Sighing, I rested my head against his chest and listened to his steady breathing. I laid my hand over his pounding heart. It felt good to feel something alive again. I’d killed children today. Even though they were zeds, they still wore the guise of innocence. And still, I found killing was easy.
It’s the living with yourself afterward that’s tough.