“He needs medical attention,” Ross said. Sobbing made his words almost impossible to understand. “We need to take him to a hospital.”
Ben and Paul looked at each other. Neither of them spoke.
“Now!” Ross screamed. “I said right fucking now!”
Josh came over to them. Victoria emerged from the tree line. For a minute they had forgotten about her and where she escaped to once they had disarmed Otis. They crowded around Ross and Landry, carefully keeping their eyes on the approaching zombie herd. They didn’t have much time to waste. Zombies stumbled from the shadows the woods harbored, into the morning sunlight. They came from every direction, the shuffling crowd quickly gaining mass.
“What are you people standing there for?” Ross asked. “Do something!”
“What would you like us to do?” Josh asked. “I don’t mean to come off as insensitive, but what exactly can we do?”
Ross turned his attention back to his son. Blood had already soaked through the shirt he had used as a tourniquet. It flowed from the wound steadily with no signs of yielding. Landry’s eyes fluttered. The kid fought the darkness that invaded his vision.
“Stay with me, son!” Ross shouted. He slapped his son’s cheek lightly. Then he put pressure on the wound with both hands. The bleeding continued despite his efforts. “Please…”
There was little that could be done. Except to wait out the inevitable.
Landry was dead within minutes.
“I hate to suggest this,” Paul said, “but we really should be moving.” He looked around. The dead encircled them. Their moans grew louder, their stench intensified. The group listened to the shuffling of many feet with instant dread.
“I can’t leave,” Ross muttered. He pressed his ear to Landry’s chest. Nothing there. He raised his head, tears pouring down his face. He closed Landry’s eyes. They would never open again.
Unless he comes back…
Yes, he would come back as one of them. Wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t he become a member of the dead parade that seemingly outnumbered the living? Ross couldn’t allow it. He couldn’t watch his son transform into a monster trapped between the world of the living and the world of the dead.
Like his mother.
Ross assumed she was out there somewhere, eating her way through the rest of her days. A thought inappropriately popped into his head, triggered by the memory of his wife; what would happen when there’s no more food left? Sooner or later, all humans would become zombies. Or the humans would regain control. However, judging from what he had witnessed, Ross placed his money on the first scenario.
The entire East Coast… Gone…
That’s what Ben had said. It was overrun. The government was going to blow it to hell. Maybe there are doctors in the west that can help Landry, he thought, looking down at his son’s corpse. Don’t be stupid. He’s gone. Dead. Ain’t coming back. At least, not as the Landry you knew and loved. Ross didn’t want to witness his son’s reanimation. He closed his eyes, tears still finding their exit regardless.
“We really need to go,” Josh said. “C’mon.”
“You guys go. I’m… staying.”
“Ross, he’s dead,” Ben said. “I know it’s hard, but there’s nothing you can do about it. Now come on.”
He shook his head. “What would you do if you got to Pittsburgh and your kid was dead, Ben?” Ross asked. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do anything different.”
Ben didn’t say anything.
“That’s what I thought.”
For ten seconds, no one spoke. Ben nodded. A lump of air nestled in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak.
“Don’t say anything,” Ross said. “There’s nothing left to say.”
A low, raspy voice cackled. “Very touchin’. Ya’ll got me teary-eyed.”
The group turned their attention to the crippled hillbilly. He was giggling, amused by the whole situation. Ross stood up, finally able to take his eyes off Landry. He limped over to Otis. He looked down at the beached whale, the one partially responsible (if not fully) for his son’s demise. The images of the fast zombie ripping Landry’s shoulder apart replayed inside his head.
“You…” Ross spoke softly.
“Nagger…” Otis muttered. “How’s that boy of yours? Don’ look so good from ova’ hur.”
Ross screamed. He raised his right foot in the air, bringing it down on Otis’s face with all of his strength. Something cracked, sounding like glass being caught between a shoe and the pavement. Ben assumed it was the bones in the fat man’s face. Otis opened his large mouth and howled. Ross repeated his motion, his face stricken with rage. He watched with satisfaction as several of the hillbilly’s teeth disappeared down the back of his throat. Otis choked. Ross stomped on him again. Blood pooled around his nose, then dripped down both sides of his face. Again. More blood. Gashes opened above his eyes, on his forehead. Again. More blood. More gashes. Cracking sounds. Screams. Ross kept marching on his face, furiously, as if he were trying to put out a small, yet potentially-dangerous fire.
Once Ross finished, his foot tired and aching, the psychopath’s face was nothing but bloody chunks of bone and brain matter. He stopped when the splattering became too much. He glanced up from the fat man’s grisly display and saw some of the zombies were getting too close for comfort.
“Go,” Ross told the group.
“What are you going to do, man?” Ben asked.
“I’m going to bury my son,” he croaked tearfully.
Ben opened his mouth to argue.
“Go.”
Ben fixed his eyes on Ross, who avoided his gaze. Finally, Josh walked up behind Ben and placed his hand on his shoulder.
“Come on. We can’t stay any longer,” Josh told him.
“We need to get my daughters,” Victoria told them.
Reluctantly, Ben began walking away from Ross. He watched the somber man bend down and scoop his boy into his arms.
Ben turned toward the Barker’s house, wishing he could have done more to change the man’s mind.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Victoria stopped in front of the barn. “How do we find Brit and Emily?” she asked. She turned to the others. Behind them, an army of zombies had gathered. The survivors had put distance between them, but there were more of them than they had anticipated. One hundred or so corpses had found their way into the corral.
“They probably put them back in the cages,” Josh suggested.
“We should split up,” Ben said. “Victoria come with me. Josh, go with Paul. You guys go around to the front of the house. We’ll take the back. We’ll clear the house and meet up in the basement.”
“What if that crazy bitch and her mother are still inside?” Paul asked.
“We’re going to clear the house,” Ben repeated.
Paul nodded, understanding perfectly.
“Okay. Let’s do this,” Ben said, heading toward the barn, which led to the back of the house.
Josh opened the front door. He glanced back and saw the pickup truck sitting on the front lawn. He was relieved to find the yard void of zombies. As long as they survived whatever waited inside, they’d have a clear shot at the highway with no obstacles.
He crept into the door, weaponless. Paul followed.
“Maybe you should go first,” Josh whispered.
“Good idea,” Paul agreed. “Which way?”
Josh pointed to the right of the staircase, down a long corridor leading to the kitchen. Paul followed his direction and crept forward, cringing each time he planted his foot and heard the creak of the old wooden floorboards. Josh’s nerves swam violently, fearing the noise would alert their enemies. He suspected their intrusion wouldn’t go unnoticed, in fact, he would find himself surprised if the two Barker women didn’t already know about their arrival. He was worried they would find Brit and Emily dead, murdered for what had happened to the Three Little Pigs. The women were probably watching the entire hunt on the surveillance cameras.