I aimed the gun in the wan light, but all I saw were half shapes—shadows of things that were barely visible in the three-quarter moon. The trees around the cabin made it twice as hard to see, rendering it darker than it should be.
I wanted the darkness now; I wanted to fade into it and hunt the monster down. It was just a dead man who would soon have no head. They didn’t have any special powers, and they certainly didn’t possess strength beyond that of a human. What they did have, from what I had witnessed in my few skirmishes with them, was a rage that went beyond anything I had ever seen before. Soldiers on the front line didn’t even act that insane. The ghouls had shrugged off wounds, gunshots, kicks to the head, and came on more pissed off than before.
“Where are you?” I whispered to myself as I panned the gun around the area.
I heard Katherine moving behind me on the porch. I risked a glance back, and found her leaning against a post that supported the porch roof, so she blended into the darkness like part of the cabin.
She blinked, her eyes bright white against the dark, and I grinned at her.
Turning, I took a step toward the woods and stopped right at the edge. I didn’t move, stood as still as I could for a few minutes, but I didn’t hear any movement. I was prepared to admit I was seeing things; one of those dreams you have in the day when you close your eyes for a few minutes. I had probably slipped into that half realm of sleep and didn’t even realize it. But as I prepared to go back to the cabin, I heard movement.
It was to the right, so I swung the gun that way. Then movement to the left. I backed up a step and panned the gun around me. Whipping my head around, I tried to focus on one sound, but movement in front of me threw me off.
I heard Katherine gasp and turned to look. She had taken a step down the stairs and stood on the bottom one, staring away from me, into the darkness. Following her gaze, I saw a figure move into the moonlight. It was a woman in torn clothing, and she moved like she was injured. I ran in that direction, gun locked against my shoulder.
“Hey, hey! Are you hurt?” I knew the words were stupid right after they came out of my mouth. She was a zombie—had to be. Living people didn’t move like that. That slow, shambling half-stagger like a drunk trying to look sober—but less coordinated.
I didn’t get a chance for further inquiries, as Katherine pulled the gun up to eye level, aimed, and put one right between the woman’s eyes. The woman stopped as if in shock, then sank to her knees and fell face forward into the dirt with a finality that sickened me. Her arms didn’t even flop; her legs and arms didn’t twitch.
I spun around as something crunched across the grass, catching sight of an enormous man with no shirt on, who moved in slow motion. He was dressed like a farmer—overalls on, suspenders half off of his massive frame. His mouth was missing its jaw, and ribbons of flesh swayed from his head, just like they did at his open gut. I followed my girlfriend’s actions by raising the gun and blowing his head off.
No matter what you think about me from reading this tale, I do not take any pleasure in killing. I flinched when I did it. I don’t think taking a life is an action that anyone should ever contemplate, let alone perform. But it was necessary, and the fact that they weren’t exactly alive helped propel me along the path to becoming a mass murderer.
His head half-disappeared, and he fell backwards as the buckshot threw him off his feet.
Katherine’s gun popped a couple of times behind me, so I spun around. She was contending with a pair of zombies that came out of the woods. From what I saw of them, it looked like they were on a hiking trip before they died. An older man and woman, they were both covered in blood. He stooped as he staggered, and, despite missing an arm, his backpack remained on one shoulder. He carried it low, like some bizarre hunchback.
They both dropped, and I had to back up as three more came out of the woods toward me. Curse the night. It made them almost impossible to see unless they were right in front of us. I fired low, intent on at least hitting them if I couldn’t make a headshot. I was backing toward the cabin, gun level, and I knew that Katherine had my back. The gun fired again, this time twice, and one more of the things dropped.
I moved toward her, toward the sounds she made as she lifted the gun and fired. At one point, I thought I was right next to the cabin, but I was much farther away than I estimated, and I took a look back. I met her eyes, and they gleamed in the dark. While I hated killing the people in front of us, she loved it.
Then I swung my attention back as more came at us. I saw a flash of green in the woods, and I knew that the one in charge had shown himself. I aimed in that direction and sprayed with buckshot, even though he was about forty feet away. I didn’t really stand a chance of killing him, but I would settle for a wound, maybe a lucky eyeful of shot.
“In the cabin,” she yelled, and I turned and hit the step. Then I reconsidered. If we went inside and more of the things arrived, we would be stuck, forced to defend four sides against them, because as soon as the windows broke, they would be on us. If the dead things weren’t driven by the ghoul, I was pretty sure we could disappear in the cabin and they would go away, not bothering to look inside.
“Let’s get out of here, Katherine. Let’s get in the Honda and go!”
She nodded. “Where are the keys?”
“Kitchen. Right next to the stove in the big wooden bowl.”
“Okay.”
She dashed in through the open door, and I heard her stumble into something. Then something else fell over. I should have prepared a bug out kit, a backpack with weapons, food, ammo, but it just hadn’t seemed all that necessary. I saw at least five of them closing in on the cabin, but I was busy shoving shells into the shotgun.
“Get me some more shot for the shotgun,” I yelled at the door. Rifle loaded, I put it to my shoulder and shot one of the things in the throat, which punched it backwards where it flopped to the ground. I jacked another shell in, lifted the gun, aimed carefully, and took one’s head off.
The darkness was getting to me. The blasts of the gun stole my sight away each time. I didn’t have time to get used to the dark after I fired. I stayed at the foot of the stairs and waited patiently for Katherine. I heard her back into something else in her haste. We didn’t really put things anywhere with any logic, and I cursed the poor planning. Usually, I was much better at that kind of stuff, but I wasn’t seeing the future as brightly as I should have. I should have been better prepared. Should have, could have, and would have—no use in dwelling on mistakes.
“I can’t see!” she yelled, and I heard things thrown about as she felt around in the dark. The gunshots had to have stolen her eyesight as well, and it would be a while before she had her night vision back. I’d have given about a million dollars for a pair of night vision goggles right about then.
One was almost on me when I shot him in the chest. At least I think it was a he. The figure was just a blur in the dark. It moaned, deep and long. I spun to my right and dropped another one. Some of the shot went wide, taking one of the zombies behind this one in the leg. That zombie fell down and started crawling toward me.
“Got ‘em!” she yelled. I wondered if she’d gotten more bullets or the keys or both. She came dashing out, just in time to drop one in her tracks. The zombie was dressed in bright orange sweats that made her stand out, even in the dark.
Katherine handed me a box, and I hoped it was the shotgun shells. I dropped to a crouch, dumping the container on the ground. Big shells went everywhere, and I scooped them up, putting them in my pockets as fast as I could. She covered me, ejecting a magazine and slamming one home in one quick motion.