Seth’s group was almost to us when the last soldier was tackled by Sanchez. He screamed in pain as Sanchez bit through his arm. I raised my rifle to shoot, but Seth grabbed me before I could. “There’s no time.” The truth was I hated Sanchez in that moment. All the pent up rage I’d been suppressing for the last week bubbled over and was aimed at him. I wanted to break free and shoot the fucker until he didn’t move, and then shoot him once more for good measure. We had become the main course in this fucked up meal.
I looked back one more time, taking in the scene. Sanchez’s left pant leg had been rolled up, and I could see a circular bite wound on his ankle. Gauze hung off the small wound and was held in place by a single remaining piece of medical tape. All eyes were on us, and their legs propelled their mangled bodies in our direction. We fled to the back room and up the stairs.
The only thing that separated us from them was a rusted fire door. I knew it wouldn’t hold them for long as they pushed and scrabbled their way to get to their prey. Seth jumped into the pilot’s seat and started up the helicopter. The wind began to whip into a frenzy around us as we piled into our only means of escape. I watched the mattress and bedding sail off the roof and plummet out of sight.
Even with all the equipment we’d removed, there wasn’t enough room for us all. The chopper was meant to hold only ten. We had eleven plus a dog. Even if I were willing to give up Daphne, which I wasn’t, her small mass wouldn’t create enough space for someone else.
Margie passed Gabby to Adam and stepped back.
“Margie, what are you doing?” I asked.
The look on her face was one of resignation. A lump formed in my throat as I realized her decision. She was sacrificing herself, her life, so that we might live. Gabby fought to reach her in Adam’s arms. She kicked and screamed, begging through tears for Margie to come with us. Margie took another step back, outside the reach of Gabby’s clawing hands. I looked at the faces that filled the helicopter. Most of us looked down at our laps in shame, for fear of being deemed less important somehow and thrown from the aircraft.
The door began to bulge. Puffs of rusty dust rose from the hinges. Seth yelled back to the group. “We need to go.” He pulled back on the throttle and the landing skids raised imperceptibly. We were overweight. The gravity of our situation was too heavy to consider. Someone else needed to stay behind lest we all perish. No one wanted to die, and exiting the helicopter was suicide.
A soldier stood on each of the skids. I felt the weight of the craft shift and we tilted to the left as one of them stepped off, sealing his fate. He stepped next to Margie and pointed his weapon at the failing door that finally burst apart. The fresh corpses of our group fell out. Those unlucky enough to be at the front of the line were trampled as others made their way out of the small opening.
Gabby was still crying for Margie to join us as we hovered precariously mere feet above the roof.
The soldier positioned himself in front of Margie and began shooting the undead as they came through the door. There were too many, and they were on him in the blink of an eye. Adam turned a struggling Gabby away from the gory scene as they fell to their knees around the soldier and used their hands to carve him like a Thanksgiving turkey. I closed my eyes as they began to eat Margie and as her tortured screams reached me.
Seth yelled at the controls in a fit that could rival even the brattiest kid, attempting to bully the rotors into speeding up faster. It still wasn’t fast enough and fetid hands began probing the opening. The soldier on the landing skids wrapped his arms around the metal frame of the door and tried to pull himself into the cabin. His eyes betrayed his fear as he fought to gain purchase and lift his legs out of biting reach. The helicopter lifted off the roof, but it wasn’t fast enough.
The soldier’s body lurched as they pulled at his lower extremities. The bones of his fingers snapped backwards at the knuckles, one by one, until his grip released. A look of sheer agony clouded his features and his mouth formed a silent Oh as the deafening sound of the rotor blades drowned out his screams. I gripped his outstretched arms and pulled with renewed strength, but my efforts were fruitless compared to the horde below.
Time stood still as his arms slipped slowly from my hands and his jaw cracked on the floor of the chopper. Bloody, broken teeth shot out of his mouth, leaving a trail of red spittle, as his body was dragged out of the opening.
The helicopter steadied itself and began climbing. Breaths of relief escaped us all, and the atmosphere quickly became one of grief. Mrs. Talbot stared out the window, no doubt mourning the loss of her husband, Jim. Meg sat next to her; her eyes stared blankly at nothing. Gabby cried openly for Margie as Adam comforted her. The pregnant couple huddled together, faces devoid of expression. I felt the shaking of Daphne’s tiny body against my side.
Our numbers had been cut down to eight. The dead now ruled our home. The roof and parking lot revealed the bloody forms of friends and family members as we flew away. The fuel tanker sat near the store’s front wall. Sanchez, that rat bastard, stood next to it and stared hungrily up at us as we made our escape. His face was too much for me to bear. I lost myself in anger as I looked at him and before I knew I was even moving, I had raised my rifle and sighted down on him.
The glare from the fuel tank’s shiny body glinted in the scope and I adjusted my aim. Two short bursts on automatic were all it took. One burst to puncture the tank and let the fuel spill to the pavement. A second burst to ignite the vapors. The aircraft lurched as the energy released from the explosion radiated outward. Seth, thankfully an experienced pilot, regained control and hovered at a safe distance.
We all watched as the flames licked up the walls of the store. The explosion had demolished a large part of the front wall, and sent flames through its aisles. The clothes of the store’s former inhabitants ignited on contact and turned the undead into charred crisps stumbling among the wreckage, refusing to die. This was the new world’s way of holding a funeral. The dead crumbled on their pyre, and Seth turned us toward the lighthouse.
Chapter 18
Merry Fucking Christmas
It turns out Mrs. Talbot had a first name after all. Adam addressed her as Nancy as he apologized for the loss of her husband. I felt selfish. After living with nearly one hundred people for over a week, I knew only a handful of them. I had made no efforts to connect with them, and that would change. This ragtag group of misfits was all I had left.
We were right about Sanchez. He’d hidden a bite from the group. I don’t know if it was denial or the act of a coward not wanting to be put down like a wounded animal. Upon return from our scouting mission, he’d told Ellis, I think that was his name, that he needed to use the john, and wasn’t seen again. Whatever his reason, he never left the men’s room after we returned from our failed search and rescue mission.
Nancy told us Jim woke to use the restroom sometime before dawn and never returned. He walked into the bathroom as unsuspecting prey to receive the kiss of death from Sanchez, who had been lying in wait for the door to open, his reanimated brain not smart enough to turn the knob. Once he turned, the two of them made easy work of the sleeping group. Lieutenant Dan and his men were alerted by the screams, but by the time they made their way from the barricade, the situation was beyond containment.
The ride to the lighthouse was considerably faster than it would have been on land; there were no obstacles in our path to navigate. It was immediately apparent that our Plan B location was a bust as we crested a group of trees and saw the landscape below. The area was teeming with undead. More than we had bullets to dispatch. Plan C was in effect and we changed course to reach Cape Harbour and search for a houseboat.