Roads Less Traveled (4 page)

“Stay behind Zack and don’t get blown up,” Jake said before stepping up to the door. He looked around at the others, who had edged away from him, then gripped the ax tightly in his right hand and kicked the door open.

* * *

The first zombie fell on Jake before he had a chance to get the ax up. He planted a foot against the thing’s chest to hold it back, successfully pinning himself against the doorjamb in the process. The zombie’s teeth gnashed together, its fingers clawing at Jake’s jean-clad leg. He raised the ax high and brought it down hard on the zombie’s head. Its skull cracked, then gave way as the blade buried itself deep within its brain. The zombie immediately went limp and Jake kicked back on its chest, pulling his ax free as the dead bastard fell to the ground. Not wasting any time, he bolted out the door, swinging wide and landing a hit on a small Asian student who had come up on his left. Before she even hit the ground Jake was turning and lopping the head off his Organic Chemistry instructor.

Ben watched as Jake kept moving, going from one to another, taking them down with relative ease. Granted, they moved slowly (you were right Mr. Romero), but he couldn’t get over how simple and straightforward it seemed. Jake had progressed about twenty yards before looking back and waving them forward. They started out at a jog, Ben lighting his bottle of Ethanol and throwing it as far as he could to the left. It exploded as soon as it hit the pavement, lighting up several nearby deadheads and sending glass shards flying through the air. They all ducked behind a Buick, covering their heads and swearing.

“C’mon, let’s move. Jake’s getting too far ahead,” Ben said after the tinkling of brown glass had finally stopped. They started again, running this time, and after about fifteen feet Mike lit his and threw it. They dove behind a Civic, expecting the rain of glass this time, and kept their eyes ahead on Jake. He had made it to his Jeep and was swinging the ax left and right as a swarm of zombies were threatening to overtake him.

“Shit,” Ben muttered and took off running. The others quickly followed suit, ducking and dodging the staggering heaps of burning flesh. They reached Jake just as a campus security guard, or what was left of him, had grabbed Jake’s collar and was about to tear his throat open. Zack was on him first and slammed the zombie’s head into the Jeep’s door so hard it splattered gray matter all over the glass. He grabbed its wrist and yanked the guard away from Jake before finally letting it fall to the ground.

Mike had already kicked another guard in the back of the knees before landing another kick to its head, sending it sprawling. Ben and Kyra were stabbing at another pair of zombies with car antennas they had ripped off a Hummer, piercing them in the eyes and forcing the pathetic weapons into their brains. Jake, now free to rejoin the tumble, took down the remaining zombies with a few well-placed swings of the ax.

“Keys! Keys!” Ben yelled as he pushed Kyra towards the Jeep. Jake dug in his pocket, jerked out the keys, and hit the unlock button as he ran to the driver’s side. Zack climbed in the passenger’s seat next to Jake, with Ben, Kyra, and Mike scrambling into the back. After all the doors had slammed shut and the engine had roared to life, Zack sat upright and looked outside.

“Oh my God, where’s Sarah…” He started to push his door open when Jake grabbed his shoulder. Zack looked at him with eyes wide with panic. Jake simply pointed back the way they came. Everyone turned their heads, simultaneously seeing what Jake had before jumping in the Jeep. Two zombies, still “alive” and on fire, had Sarah on the ground. She was burning, her arms had been torn off, abdomen splayed open, and half her face was missing. Kyra covered her mouth to keep from screaming, Mike simply stared with his mouth open, and Ben beat his fists against the window, cussing like an ironworker. Zack’s hands fell from the door as he stared at what was left of Sarah.

“Get us out of here,” he said, his voice again disturbingly composed. Jake shifted the Jeep and hit the gas, speeding away and maneuvering through the parking lot.

Chapter Three

Later that day

The ringing of the phone and Gus licking my face startled me awake. After showering and doing another check around the house, I had decided there was nothing left to do but sit and wait. Falling asleep evidently fell under that category. I jumped up and ran for the phone.

“Hello,” I said as I rubbed dog slobber from my cheeks. I pointed a finger at Gus, mentally making note never to fall asleep on the job again.

“Kasey, it’s me. We made it out of town and we’re headed to the old McKinley farm.” Ben didn’t sound right, but what the hell did anymore?

“Good. How soon will you be there?” I asked as I drummed my fingers on the kitchen counter and kept a careful eye on the yard.

“It’s been slow going. A lot of cars were left in the road, and we’re having to run over a lot of people.” Ben really wasn’t sounding very good. I empathized with him and tried to comfort as best as I could.

“They’re not people anymore Ben. You need to remember that.”

He sighed and I could hear other people talking around him. I was glad he wasn’t alone, or else he’d probably be holed up in his dorm room preparing for starvation.

“Yeah, I know. You’re right. Listen, Jake says it will probably take about three hours to get to the farm with all the holdups and obstacles. With any luck Bill and his wife are home and okay. How are things there?”

“Still quiet,” I answered. “Listen, I’m safe and secure here so don’t distract yourself worrying about me. Just stay alive, and get in touch with me when you get to the McKinley’s. Oh, and don’t forget weapons.” The McKinley’s were Jake’s grandparents, and we had already decided some time ago that their farm was far enough away from town to serve as a safe way-station for a short time.

Ben chuckled. “Yeah, you know I won’t forget that. Jake’s had a hard-on for them since we hit the road.” Ah yes, Jake was a man after my own heart.

“Good, I’ll talk to you soon,” I said laughing, and hung up. I walked over to the fridge and grabbed a Dr. Pepper as I thought about their trip. It was hard to comprehend what would normally be a twenty minute trip taking three hours. But of course they weren’t in rural America like I was. Here, everything outside appeared as it should. It was early fall, the leaves had just started to change, and the air was getting that familiar crispness we associate with football and hunting season. I sighed, realizing there would likely never be another football game played.

As far as hunting goes, I knew I would be doing a great deal of that if I wanted to eat this winter. I couldn’t assume the power would stay on long, though with the high-tech of the 21
^st
century, who knew? I drained the pop can and tossed it in the garbage as I headed to the basement, taking the phone with me just in case. I wanted to gather the remaining rifles from the gun safe and set one up in each of the second floor windows. Sooner or later, they would come, and I wanted to be ready.

* * *

The first one arrived about an hour after I talked to Ben. I had just finished carrying the weapons and ammunition upstairs, each one propped up and resting against the wall by their designated windows, when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I squinted against the afternoon sun, not quite sure what I was seeing. I hurried downstairs into the kitchen, grabbed the binoculars, and ran back to my bedroom. By this time Gus was starting to throw a fit. After attempting to shush him to no avail, I crouched down next to the windowsill and took a look. Just as I suspected: it looked like Mr. Crousley had been into town that morning and had met with foul company.

I scanned the surrounding area for other movement and saw nothing. Mr. Crousley had made it to where the end of my drive breaks through the woods-line by the time I found him again in the riflescope. About a 300 yard shot; not one I would willingly make hunting whitetail. I put the crosshairs on his forehead and exhaled slowly as I squeezed the trigger. I didn’t notice the recoil as I watched Mr. Crousley crumple to the ground. I slid the bolt and ejected the spent shell, then slid it back into place, loading another into the chamber. I flipped the safety and rested the .243 against the wall. I shook my head and wondered what had happened to his family. My knees popped when I stood, Gus finally quieting down and watching me carefully.

“C’mon boy,” I whispered. Before going back downstairs I checked the other rooms, each one giving me a different view of my property.

Roughly three acres of lawn surrounded the house, which was edged on three sides by woods, and on the fourth side by pasture. The barn was no more than 100 feet from the back of the house next to the pasture field. I considered the woods line to be the perimeter, and I could keep that clear just from keeping watch from the various windows in the house. As far as the pasture field went, I would have to put in more effort and do some patrolling. It was a larger area, and the terrain surrounding it would make it nearly impossible for a zombie to stay vertical if one tried navigating it, but I was paranoid. Expect the unexpected. Once Ben and his group were here, things would be easier.

* * *

The local TV news anchor had been talking for almost five minutes before I finally noticed. For the past hour or so, the only thing on had been a newsreel reviewing all the day’s events, set on a loop. I’d gotten tired of watching the same thing over and over, so after trying to reach my family again over the phone and getting no answer, I had begun boarding up the ground level windows with plywood I’d brought up from the basement. I was halfway finished when I paused, hammer next to my head, to listen to Megan Clearwater. “Hmm,” I grunted and walked into the kitchen. I turned the volume up on the small countertop set and pulled over a chair.

She looked very tired, but who could blame her? I bet the only people still at the station were her and the camera guy. And as far as I could tell, she had been the only person at the news desk since I first checked it after getting back home. I listened as she ran through the list of shelters and hospitals that were now closed. Big surprise, they had been overrun by the infected. I shook my head, chuckled, and lit a Camel. She talked a little about the National Guard and the news she had heard from them. Which, to be perfectly honest, was next to nothing.

They had a “safe zone” set up “somewhere south” of the general viewing area, and if anyone could, they should report there immediately for medical treatment. It all sounded very much like horseshit and an attempt to keep everyone’s hopes up. If there was anyone still watching, that is. Well, I was watching, so perhaps there were others as well. Then she started rehashing the reports from “reporters in the field” as video clips were shown. Mostly they were shaky accounts, literally, as the camera guy ran for his life, the picture bobbing back and forth as he bolted from the scene.

In one shot the camera actually caught the field reporter being jumped on from behind by what looked to be two older ladies in housecoats and slippers. I snubbed out my cigarette and turned the volume back down. I had more pressing matters at hand, but the background noise would be a welcome, albeit disturbing, comfort.

I dragged the three remaining sheets of plywood into the living room and went back down the hall for the ladder. I hated to be boarding my windows like this. It looked so dark in the house now and it made me feel gloomy. It’s not like I wasn’t gloomy already, but if this was going to be my “fortress of solitude” I’d have to do what I could to make it safe. Well, if the plan went without a hitch it wouldn’t actually be “-of solitude,” but I could think of a better name later.

I also wondered, while walking back to the kitchen table to retrieve the hammer, if I was starting to lose it. Go crazy. Shy a few marbles. Not playing with a full deck. Screws loose. I expected this though, had actually thought about it at great length, while drawing up my Zombie Plan. Anyone who survived something like this and expected to make a new life for themselves living in a world full of the walking dead would have to be on their way to a shithouse rat state of mind.

I glanced down partway through my ruminating to see Gus watching me very closely with his head tilted to one side. I smiled and patted him on the head, then went back to work. With any luck, I would have these three sheets in place and get some patrolling in before dark.

* * *

I looked at my watch and saw I had forty-five minutes before Ben should be calling, so I decided to patrol as much as I could behind the barn. The pistol I was wearing, a .45 Colt, was heavy and threatening to pull my pants down, but I didn’t feel safe going without it. I tried to decide which rifle to take from the ones I had strategically placed upstairs, but none felt as comfortable as my old .243. So I retrieved it from my bedroom, making up my mind that as soon as I got back I would replace it with another so I could keep the deer rifle with me wherever I went. The only drawback to this particular gun was that it could only hold five shells, and that was if you slid one in the barrel before closing the bolt. But after being together for so many years it felt like a part of me. And besides, I really didn’t think I would see more than five zombies.

After an argument with Gus (one in which he was clearly victorious), we headed out. I caught myself wanting to lock the front door and instead just pulled it shut. With my rifle up and ready, Gus and I walked around the house and towards the barn. Gus was doing his thing, nose to the ground and occasionally sniffing the air, as I scanned the area. I figured I could rely pretty heavily on my dog’s nose, and if there was something close that I couldn’t see he would let me know about it. I stopped just short of the barn’s drive as I looked out over the pasture. The sun was starting to dip in the sky now, and I definitely didn’t want to be caught out here at dusk without a flashlight. Hell, even
with
a flashlight.