Amy could see the strain on Katherine’s face. She couldn’t recall when either of them had last slept. Sweat glistened on Katherine’s tanned skin, and her glance said that this was it, the end for both of them. All that remained was deciding how they would die: either hide here and pray, or go out fighting to reach the van. Amy already knew what Katherine would choose, even as the ex-cop stood up with her shotgun and blew a hole in the nearest creature’s chest.
Amy wanted to leap to her feet and help her friend, but she refused to believe that all their suffering had been for nothing. Deep down she wanted to live, and she was forced to admit that Katherine’s pointless exit strategy was just macho bullshit.
Amy, still hidden behind the crates, watched the creatures charge toward them as Katherine pumped a round into her weapon and shot another psycho in its stomach, loosing its intestines onto the dock. Despite her bulging muscles, Katherine appeared helpless in the face of the horde closing in around her.
With tears in her eyes, Amy turned away as the things reached Katherine and tore at her with their nails and teeth. She tried to block out the screams for help as she crept towards the edge of the docks and eased herself into the water below.
Amy let the currents carry her into the dark beneath the planks, hoping the things would be too occupied with Katherine to search for anyone else. As far as she knew, they had not seen her.
Katherine fell silent, and Amy began to weep.
Hours later, when the sun had set and the docks had grown still, Amy hauled herself out of the water. None of the creatures had stuck around. Even Katherine’s body was gone, leaving only smears of blood where she’d fallen.
Dripping wet and wrinkled from the water, Amy stumbled to the van, her muscles aching from hours of keeping her afloat. She carefully checked the vehicle to make sure nothing was waiting inside, then slid into the driver’s seat. She clawed the extra set of keys out of the glove box and shoved them into the ignition. The moment the engine roared to life she knew the creatures would come pouring out.
She turned the key, and her heart froze as the van sputtered loudly without catching.
Amy tried again as she noticed movement on the docks and in the shadows of the buildings; the night came alive with the sound of hungry howls.
This time the engine turned over and she peeled out towards the main road, laughing hysterically as the van lurched over a speed bump, onto the interstate.
Despite the wreckage and abandoned cars littering the roadway, Amy found her foot getting heavier and heavier on the accelerator. Adrenaline rushed through her exhausted body as she swerved this way and that, dodging obstacles. She felt free, as if she were losing her mind, and it was okay. It would have been so easy to just keep going faster and faster until her reflexes couldn’t keep up and she died in a fiery crash. It would be a better death than being ripped apart like Katherine.
Amy reached to click on the radio, knowing she would only find static across the dial, but something flickered in the rearview mirror and caught her eye. The van almost collided with what was left of an overturned eighteen wheeler as she jerked upright in her seat.
Slowing down, Amy studied the police car that had come up an exit ramp behind her to give chase.
“What the hell?” She knew it wasn’t possible. Everyone in the world was either crazy from the effects of the wave, dead, or on the run like she was. Yet seeing the car’s flashing lights brought back feelings of hope. Maybe her flight was over and the officers would look out for her and take her somewhere safe. Maybe somehow in this city people had survived and organized.
She brought the van to a stop as the police car pulled up beside her. Amy was in the process of rolling down her window as she glanced into the car. A man in a tattered uniform with yellow-tinted eyes stuck a .38 out his window and aimed for her head.
“Oh God!” Amy snapped around to the steering wheel and rammed the gas pedal to the floor. The officer’s shot slammed into the van’s side just behind her door.
“Oh God, oh God, they’re not supposed to be able to drive!”
In the rearview, she saw the thing’s partner trying to lean out the passenger-side window to shoot at her.
He’s going to blow out my tires, Amy thought. There was no way she could outrun them, not in this van, not with the roads the way they were. But the creatures could die—they were just people driven crazy by the wave—so she did the only thing she could think of.
Making sure her seatbelt was fastened, she hit the brakes. Tires squealed as the van came to a halt—and the police car smashed into its rear.
Despite her seatbelt, Amy was thrown forward. Her forehead struck the steering wheel and her world faded to black.
She came to with a start. Something wet trickled down her face. Amy wiped at it and her hand came away covered in a warm, wet red. Her head was pounding, but otherwise she seemed okay. She reached over and dug a .45 from the glove box and unsnapped her seatbelt. When she opened the door, she sprawled out onto the road, unable to keep her balance.
The police car was still there, a mass of broken metal wedged into the van’s rear. The driver was clearly dead; pieces of windshield glass jutted from his face, and his head dangled at an unnatural angle.
Amy pulled herself to her feet and stumbled closer, holding the pistol ready. When she got close enough to see inside the car, she noticed the other officer’s bottom half resting in the blood-soaked passenger seat. The top half of his body was nowhere to be seen.
She slumped to the ground beside the car. It was only a matter of time until more of the creatures came out of the night around her, but both the van and the car were totaled. She needed a plan. She couldn’t just sit there and wait to die, regardless of how much she hurt or how tired she was. Her eyes were heavy with sleep and it fought to wrap her in its embrace. She shook herself awake, and her head throbbed from a fresh burst of pain. Her only chance was to find a working car with the keys still inside.
She got to her feet once more and walked down the interstate to start her search.
11
Geoff lay back against the tree trunk, perched high above the ground on a narrow branch, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. He massaged the corners of his tired eyes with his finger, then blinked several times to clear his vision.
Below him, a kid moved slowly up the mountain trail. Normally Geoff would have radioed the base to let them know and to get orders on what to do. Fuck that: normally he wouldn’t have been out here, risking his life to do the job of the base’s malfunctioned external sensors.
He hoisted his rifle to his shoulder and peered through its scope. The kid was in his later twenties and was dressed like a punk in ratty jeans and a T-shirt of some stupid rock band. Geoff could have dropped him right then and there, problem solved, but something kept his finger away from the trigger.
The last few days hadn’t been a cakewalk, even for him. He wondered how the punk had managed to survive, much less come so close to finding the base. Maybe Geoff had seen enough death over the last few days, or maybe he was just getting old; either way, the kid got to keep breathing.
He carefully took the cigarette from his lips and slipped it back inside the pack, then stuffed the whole thing into his jacket pocket. “Ah… shit,” he whispered to himself and started down the tree.