I left the sidewalk and there were more of them. I was within sight of the Walmart I had raided a few months ago, what seemed like a lifetime ago. They were everywhere. I honked at them to get out of the way, but they just snarled at me as I bumped into them. Without risking serious damage to the car, there was no way to push through them.
Not all of them moved fast. Some were slack jawed, empty eyed, hands raised as if in supplication. They were not frenzied as the green ones.
One threw something under the car, and I felt it give way and collapse to the side with an audible pop. They had flattened the tire with some sort of spike. The thing had been flat, with nails driven into it, and looked like a club one would see in medieval times. If I could get my hand on it, I was going to make the fuckers pay dearly before they took me down.
I drove as hard as I could, but it was soon on a metal rim. Another pop forced me to slow down. One of them darted forward and slashed the rear tire on that side.
It wouldn’t be long now. I took my hands off the wheel and jammed as many shells as I could into the shotgun. I lost count of how many rounds I had fired, and just filled until no more would go in. They surrounded the car, and I tried to keep my foot on the gas, but the weight of them combined with the flat tires slowed me to a stop. I guessed the rear window would be my undoing.
I opened the sunroof and slithered up onto the seat. One of them was climbing onto the top of the car, so I blew a hole in his midsection first. I planted my hands on the side of the car, so I would have a chance to run and not get stuck inside when they took me down. I lifted up and sat on the edge of the roof and shot another one. The blast took her in the shoulder, spinning her into the crowd with a massive spray of blood. I swung my leg up and stood on the top of the car so I had a full view of the area around me. The metal underneath me was flimsy and buckled as I jockeyed for position.
I kicked another one with my size twelve boot, and then shot another in the face.
There were too many of them—a veritable ocean of the things. I wondered if I should just put the barrel under my chin and do myself in. I didn’t want to be eaten by these things. So let them feast on my corpse and choke on it.
I swung the gun up and braced it against my body as a pair climbed onto the blood- and brain-splattered hood. I smiled at one—a big, full-mouthed grin—and then pulled the trigger.
Click.
Not good!
I fumbled for a shell. It fell out of my pocket and rolled down the side of the car. I bashed the first freak over the head with the stock of the shotgun. Big hollow thunk as he went down. I lashed out behind with one foot and caught a tall, skinny kid in the gut. He fell on his face, so I smashed his head into the roof with my foot.
Went for another shell, got it, slid it home. Now I was surrounded on every side, and I would never get the damn thing up to blow my own brains out. One of them rose in front of me with a howl. His mouth was wide open, but my ringing ears didn’t hear him. I whipped my hand up to slash at his throat, but he teetered on unsure feet, and I ended up slashing him across the chin with the edge of my hand. I had planned to smash his throat. Another scrambled up behind me. Well, here we go.
A shot rang out, and I half-expected to feel a punch as it struck my body. The one in front of me dropped, then another shot sounded in the distance, and one dropped onto the hood of the car.
I spun around and punched the guy behind me. A full blow with the shoulder behind it that rocked my wrist, even though I stiffened it just before impact. He flew back, and then there were gunshots all around.
“Get the fuck down!” someone called out , and I didn’t look around to see if the guy was serious. Instead I dropped to the hood of my car and started popping shells into the shotgun.
Blasts bounced off the SUV or settled in the metal. There was screaming, which came through loud and clear as my hearing returned. Bodies dropped on either side, heads exploded, chunks flew, blood misted; it was like a warzone. I slithered onto the car via the sunroof, banging both elbows and my left knee in the process. I ended up with my ass in the air, staring at the gas pedal as I tried to right myself.
The things outside the car were no longer interested in me, having discovered the much more accessible flesh of their fallen comrades. What sort of creatures were these? Since I rolled into my old town, I had no time to stop and consider the things. More shots broke up the mob, and they soon got the message and cleared the street. I forgot to turn the engine off in my haste, so all I had to do was pop the car in drive and hit the gas. The SUV squealed as two metal rims skittered over the ground, but it did move.
There was a group of men on the little ridge that lined the road leading up the rise to the big Walmart. Ironically, they were in the same spot that I had been in when I shot the attacking zombie in the face a few months ago. That fateful day I had made my run to the store to collect supplies to hole up and wait it out.
As I squealed up the small road, I noticed that a giant metal fence surrounded the place. They stood before it, five or six of them, and laid down fire, gesturing for me to hurry up. I must have looked pretty ridiculous in my car, rubbing metal on the road, sparks flying as I tried to outrun a bunch of bloodthirsty demons.
I made it to the little road leading up the hill, and then pulled up and into a giant metal gate that they were opening for me. The men—well, men and women. I saw it was an even mix—shot as they ran, three dropping to their knees and shooting at any of the things that still followed me. The other three ran a few feet, and then laid down covering fire for the others. They moved with a military precision that impressed the hell out of me.
The parking lot was a mess of cars, trucks, and even a couple of semi trucks. They were scattered all over the place, and most looked to be in good condition. The heavy metal fence slammed shut behind me. I pulled over, but a man gestured me forward, so I steered the squealing car along a road that ran up toward the big store. When I reached the front of the store, I pulled into a parking spot.
I fell out of the car more exhausted than I had been since Special Forces school. I left the guns in the SUV and stood up to greet my rescuers. One of them, a tall man with gaunt features and a long, straggly beard of brown and gray, walked toward me. He slung his assault rifle over his shoulder—M-16 or AR-15 from my very brief glance. He had a big smile on his face, as if we were old friends. Then he tugged a handgun from a holster at his waist and pointed it at my head. He stopped a good five feet away, too far for me to try any heroics like a grab and sweep. Professional all the way, or he had learned a lot over the last few months.
“Tell me who you are, how you got here, and, more importantly, why I shouldn’t blow your brains out.”
Things were just getting better and better.
“Name’s Erik Tragger. I been holed up in a cabin for the last four or five months. I bugged out when the shit went down.” I tried to keep my voice neutral, but having a gun pointed at my face wasn’t making me a happy camper.
“That’s a great story, Tragger. Only the goddamn ghouls have gotten better and better at sending in people closer to being, well, people.” On the outside, he was all polite, but there was a sense of tension that told me I didn’t have much time to convince him my story was true.
“I wish I knew what you were talking about. Look, man, I been out in the woods for months. Living on MREs and what little I could hunt or fish. I have been out of the mix. I don’t have the slightest fucking clue what’s going on, except some crazy guys that don’t look much like the zombies I gunned down months ago just tried to take me apart.”