I was so tired that I started daydreaming about men in white coats who surrounded a pair of zombies bound in shackles. They poked and prodded, and one even used a pair of pliers to snip off a fingertip. The thing moaned and groaned but didn’t acknowledge the pain.
Shaking my head, I snapped out of it. Was there a place in the city where they made a study of the dead? Was there a clinic that was looking for some sort of cure? The government had to be in control of something. They had to have a plan. Was this really how the human race was meant to go out? In a flash of undead that devoured the world? I refused to believe it.
Scott nodded at me, so I reached down and urged Haley to her feet. She sighed as I helped her up, then looked at me with blank eyes. I tried to look reassuring, but it was a struggle that she didn’t bother to acknowledge. When I reached to touch her head again, she did not pull away. She was hot, like she was running a fever, probably from all the running. Not to mention living in filth and cold for days. I shouldn’t be surprised she was getting sick. When was the last time she had eaten?
“Let’s roll, hombre,” Scott said, and I nodded.
I tugged Haley along behind me, and her tiny hand burned in mine. We headed in the direction I hoped was away from the camp. The rain fell again, and it just added to the misery. I stumbled over a fallen branch, then slid across a pile of leaves that gave out as I stepped on them. My foot got stuck every time I squished over a mud hole. My shoes were a mess, but at least I still had them. They grew heavier and heavier as they accumulated more and more gunk.
I ran smack into someone or something and threw a halfhearted punch. It was a jab with little force behind it and, of course, I missed by a mile. The figure stumbled back and held his hands up. He hissed at me, and I dropped my arms to my sides. Another survivor.
“It’s me, from the cage. Name’s Jack.”
I remembered him from not so long ago. He was the one who wanted to go back and destroy as many of the ghouls as he could in a suicide mission. I stretched out one exhausted arm and placed it on his shoulder. Somehow, I managed a nod that I hoped was somewhat friendly.
“Nice to meet you, Jack. Welcome to the boy scouts from hell.”
“And girl scouts,” Haley muttered.
He gave a sharp chuckle at her gallows humor. Scott slid up beside me and studied the man in the dark.
“Where are the others you escaped with?” Scott asked.
“I don’t know. We ran together, but I got separated and backtracked. I think there’s a road around here somewhere. Seems like when they brought us in, we weren’t too far from some houses or maybe a farm.”
“A farm? Hiding out there would be appropriate,” I said.
“Huh?” Scott looked at me like I was crazy—again.
“Like the old zombie movies. People boarding up houses and hiding out while the dead figure out ways to get in.”
“You are one morbid mother fucker, you know that?” Scott said.
I shook my head and pointed into the dark. How much longer until light? If the dawn arrived, we might have a better chance, but the dead would also have a better chance at finding us. Stepping away from the men, I assumed they would follow, while I let my instincts guide me toward who knew what.
The sound of birds tweeting all around us was reassuring. It gave the air a sense of normalcy, as if we were on a camping trip and not running for our lives. For the past hour, we’d made our way through the woods, hoping we weren’t going in circles.
Jack was a big man, but he seemed to have more energy than either of us. He crashed through whatever we came across with a sense of purpose, like he was on a mission. I admired his drive, since mine was all but gone. When was the last time I’d had a real meal? The few mushrooms sat in my stomach and made me queasy, because they demanded company. But the night held little in the way of relief. I came across another patch of mushrooms, but I didn’t recognize them. They taunted me, and for one crazy minute, I imagined them sautéed and placed atop a massive porterhouse steak.
We were sitting with our backs to trees on a slight incline. I wanted to close my eyes and sleep for a few hours, but I settled for drifting off, then shaking my head when I had waking dreams. The thought of sleeping was tantalizing. It would be so easy to just let it go and drift off for a while, but there was no telling what all was out there or if they hunted us. An hour ago, we had heard a scream in the distance. We looked at each other with wide eyes. My back broke out in goose bumps.
We were tense, expecting them to come upon us at any time—a horde of the undead intent on either dragging us back or simply eating us. I didn’t think I had the strength to last much longer.
Then I heard someone talking.
I put my hand on Scott’s knee, and with the other, I motioned for him to be quiet by putting one finger to my lips. He opened his eyes and stared at me like I was a stranger. He was just as muddled as I was.
I motioned toward my ears, but I didn’t know if he understood, so I did a little movement with my hand, the thumb and first two fingers coming together as if I were casting a shadow puppet on the wall. Scott shook his head again.
Then a branch snapped nearby, and the voice came again. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but it was male. Maybe it was a survivor. Maybe it was a ghoul. I held my breath and rose ever so slowly to my feet.
A shape drifted nearby; it rose in the gloom then slipped away like a shadow. I took one step after it then another. A second shape followed not too far from the first. They moved in a direct line—not confused at all. I knew the sort. These were either military or trained individuals.
A flash of camo reassured me of my assessment. I had to be careful, very careful. If they were tightly wound, they might shoot before asking questions. I knew I would.
“Scott. Do we have any dry wood for a fire?”
My voice echoed in my ears like I had just shouted in a deserted warehouse. Scott just about leapt out of his skin; his eyes went wide as he stared at me.
“The hell, man?”
“Go with it.” I made a rolling motion with my hands, hoping my gestures would guide him.
The shape didn’t move for a few seconds, and I imagined a gun coming up to take aim at my head or Scott’s. I play-acted as best I could, which probably wasn’t very well. Leaning over like I was scrounging for wood nearly made me fall flat on my face. I pushed aside some leaves and brush, the ground cold and wet against my hand. There was an earthy smell, and it made me think of my body buried in its depths. That was how I wanted to go out—not in someone’s stomach.
“Don’t move,” a voice said to my left. He was good; he had moved from his location with barely a sound.
I hoped he didn’t mean it, because I put my hands up and then slowly straightened my back. When he didn’t shoot my fool head off, I decided that maybe he wasn’t as trigger happy as I had assumed.
“Someone there?” My eyes darted around the dark space as I searched for his form.
“You know I’m here. And you know I have a gun pointed at you, so stop the dog and pony and tell me just what in the fuck you are doing out here?” The voice was gruff but sounded young, based on the timbre and the way it wavered ever so slightly.
“Okay, but can you lower the weapon and show yourself? There are four of us, and one is a young girl. You are probably scaring the crap out of her.”
“Sorry. For all I know, you’re one of them and this is a trick.”
“No trick. We just escaped the zombie camp back there.” I motioned in the general direction from which we had come, but to be honest, with all the walking and confusion, I could have been pointing in the opposite direction.
The man stepped out of the woods. He was tall, lanky, and held his gun like a pro. I took one look in his eyes, which were hard, then I looked at his rifle. It was a very nicely kitted-out AR-15 with short stock, laser sight, probably fully automatic. He could cut us down in a split second.