With the girl dead, we had two left to deal with, and they were coming at more leisurely pace. I directed the squad to the closest one, while I moved out to keep the other occupied. I thought I heard a scream from the other side of the building, but I was not about to go look just yet. Standing rule was you finish what was in front of you before you went looking for seconds.
As the zombie got closer, I was amazed once again at the virus that continued to animate these corpses. This guy must have been dead for a while, as he was shirtless and his mottled grey skin was torn and hanging off in various places. I didn’t see a wound which meant he likely caught the virus through secondary contact. His mouth was a bloody ruin, and one eye was missing, as if he had been in a nasty fight for his last meal. He lurched towards me on legs that had seen too many miles. His femur was showing through a hole in his pants leg, and he reached out with claw-like hands to grab hold as he moved slowly closer. I backed up a few steps, keeping an eye on him, but also stealing a glance around for any others.
My squad killed the other zombie, a small Hispanic female with only one arm, then moved over to mine. They dropped the man, pinned and bashed him in short order, then we all looked around for more targets. None in sight.
I breathed a sigh of relief when the screams started again, this time they were more like shrieks, and there were several gunshots coming from the side of the building.
I yelled at the squad as I ran to the side of the building “Weapons out, weapons out!” I didn’t know what I was going to find, but we were not going to be unprepared I stopped them about ten feet from the edge of the building and motioned them to stay behind me. I had the heavy firepower so I was going to go first. I angled away from the building and started forward, “cutting the pie” as the term was called from my old IDPA days. Never thought I would actually be using those skills, but I guess that was the point of the competition.
I rounded the corner and saw chaos. Two members of a squad were down, and each had four or five zombies on them, eating whatever they could tear off. The other members of the squad were in a small group, facing outward with their poles, pushing zombies away that got too close. They couldn’t take their eyes off the Z’s long enough to draw their weapons, which explained the standoff. I could see the poles of a pinner and a basher on the ground, which made sense as to why the remaining members could not deal with the zombies in front of them. I briefly wondered where their shooter was, but then I heard a shot coming from the field just west of the road that led to the parking lot in the back of the building. Time to work.
“Take out the feeders! Heads shots! Now!” I yelled, earning me grateful looks from my team. They spread out and four guns barked as one, dropping the zombies feeding on the basher from the besieged group. They ran to the next group and their guns barked again. I went to work on the standing zombies, and I shot like a metronome…aim, fire, aim, fire, aim, fire. I shot four zombies and the fifth turned his head to look to me. That was wrong. They don’t ever take their eyes off prey. What the hell was going on? First the ducker, now this. The zombie, a guy about thirty, turned from his attack on the small group and came at me, his legs moving quickly. I didn’t have time to line up a killing shot when he was on me, knocking me to the ground. My rifle was between us and that was likely the only thing that saved me. His head reared back for a bite, his mouth opening wide. I shifted the gun’s muzzle and jammed it into his mouth. His yellowed teeth clamped on the barrel, and two of them chipped to jagged points. His hands clawed at my back and arms, trying to get me in for a killing bite. I pushed at him, trying to get my hand on the trigger to blow his head off, but his clothing had gotten in the way. I rolled to the left, pinning the zombie beneath me, still keeping the rifle between us as a way to keep from being bit, my back was hurting like hell where the Z had been clawing at me. The good news was scratches didn’t turn you into a zombie. Bad news was you nearly died from infection from the rotting things.
“Fuck this.” I said, taking my hand off the rifle and shoving it into his throat. That was a risk. I had seen other guys do that only to shove their hands into waiting mouths. I got lucky. I pushed back and sat up as I straddled his struggling form, keeping my hand on his throat. A gargled moan came from his lips as he struggled and thrashed at my arms. I drew my sidearm and, shoving the barrel in between his eyebrows, fired once, ending the zombie once and for all.
I stood up and surveyed the damage. Two members were definitely down and finished. I walked over to where the bludgeon lay and picked up the heavy stick. I went back to the two still forms, and with two very swift swings, ensured that they would not be coming back for dinner. Sometimes the virus reanimated people killed by zombies, sometimes it didn’t. Better to be sure, I always say.
I went over to the survivors and spoke with the other pinner. “What happened?’ I asked.
The pinner, Bill Cross, shook as he looked over his dead squad members. “I’m not sure. One minute we were doing just fine, then all of a sudden this trio of fast moving zombies comes out over the hill and jumps our Shooter. He got one of them, but the other two split up and came at us while we were dealing with that fat one over there.” He indicated with a wave of his hand the large corpse laying a few feet away.
“Wait. You said they split up?” I asked, not sure I had heard correctly.
“Yeah. One of them went after the Shooter and the other came at us from behind. Christian never knew what hit him until the thing had dragged him down. That bought enough time for the rest of them to swarm and hit us as a mob.”
That made sense. Not a lot, but it did. “Where’s your shooter? Where’s Steve?”
Bill looked out over the hill. “He’s down that way. Looks like he’s coming back.”
I followed his gaze. Sure enough, I saw my other Shooter coming back. He walked a little stiff, like his leg was hurting him. I walked over to the top of the embankment and started towards him. He stopped me with a raised hand. “Sorry, John. That’s as close as you get.” He said, keeping me about twenty feet away. “What happened, Steve?” I asked, not wanting to hear the answer. “Fuckers came out of nowhere, moving faster than I ever saw these bastards move. Just wasn’t expecting it, you know?” I knew, having seen a couple of them myself. “Yeah, I dealt with one myself.” “Was it the guy in the red shirt?” Steve asked. “That’s the one.”
“Never saw nothing like it. Four of them came fast, only managed to get a lucky shot off that dropped one of them. The other three charged, but only one attacked me. The other two stopped for a second, looked at me, and then went off to the squad. It was like, like…” I finished his sentence. “Like they were thinking things through and made a choice.” “Exactly!” Steve thought for a second. “It was like he knew I would kill him, so he went after easier prey.” “Need to think about how this changes things, don’t we?” I said. “You will. Not me.” Steve showed me his hand. It was bloody at the wrist and a chunk was missing.
I didn’t know what to say. Steve was a great guy, not prone to panic, and hated zombies with a passion for killing his wife and children. He knew he wasn’t going to make it and didn’t want to risk anyone else. “I’m sorry, Steve.”
He waved me off. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve avenged my family a dozen times. At least now I can go be with them.” His voice trailed off as he looked around him. I knew what he was doing. He was taking a last look around and just appreciating all the good things he could see. I did that myself, once, when I thought all hope was lost and it would be better just to end it all for Jake and myself. It was different for Steve, though. His family was gone.