The Famished Trilogy (Novella): Bailing Out into the Dead Page 3

  With two guns in my hands, I kicked the station door open, alerting nearby zombies of my presence. Stepping out, a hand latched onto my ankle. I jumped back, slamming my shoulder blade against the doorframe. A high-pitched moan announced the zombie as his mouth went straight to my leg. I jerked away, stomping the zombie’s head to the ground. It took a couple of times, but the thing finally stopped moving after its brains leaked from the skull. Judging from the short hair and clothing, it had been male. Gulping, I brought my fist to cover my nose. The stench was killer and ten times worse than the corpses I had killed earlier. It was hard not to stand and stare at the vacant eyes and the tongue lolling out of its mouth. Bloody fluid dropped to the concrete, mixing in with the thick blood from its head. The uncanny paleness of the skin gleamed blue in color and was see-through.

  More grunts brought my attention back. Luckily, they moved slowly and jerkily, reminding me these were no longer people, but they were too close for my liking. It was me or them. It took a few bullets for each, blood spraying the concrete behind them as they fell. I wasn’t an excellent shot, arrows were my specialty, but I was okay and could get better with practice.

  Moans sounded from the alley across from me. The gunfire was drawing more zombies out. As the echo from the shots trailed off, their feet scuffing across the loose rocks of the cement and the sounds of hunger were alarming. The only noise. Usually one would hear cars passing, people chatting, or even insects singing. It seemed so vacant and eerie.

  I needed my bow right about then. I had another one at home I used for competitions. If I was going to make it, it would have to be a priority. Zombies shambled out of houses, coming from around the alleys, and out of shops. All of them anticipated fresh meat.

  I went right for the police cruiser, hoping I had the correct key to it in the bag. I didn’t want to, I didn’t know what I would find there, but I was going to Baton Rouge.

  The solemn ride grated even more on my already-shot nerves. The back roads were deserted but for one lone car. Smoke billowed from the propped hood. A guy stepped out, waving his arms frantically. I almost rode by him, but I couldn’t leave someone stranded out here.

  I stopped in the middle of the road, rolling down the window, and kept my hand around the standard law enforcement 9 mm but out of sight. I couldn’t trust anyone just yet. The current situation was primetime for anyone to take advantage.

  He looked shocked I wasn’t a police officer. I got right to business. “You’re not bit, are you?”

  The guy swallowed, shaking his head. He looked like he dressed in haste, and his blond hair was a little worse for wear. “My wife and I are going to the quarantine in Tennessee. I broke down.” As if it weren’t obvious he was in a bind.

  “What quarantine?” I asked him.

  “Emergency broadcast. Requesting survivors go there. At first, they told us to stay put, and help was on the way.” His face full of regret, he said, “Different story now.”

  I had a destination. “I need to get to Baton Rouge, but that’s my next stop,” I told him with determination, getting out of the cruiser. “You’re welcome to tag along.” I watched him over the top of the car.

  He glanced up and down the road as if looking for another option. “Well, my wife is pregnant. And…and sick.” I walked around, staying cautious and peeked in his car. She had long sandy hair. Her hands rested on her stomach. She was asleep, looking pale and feverish. “How come you didn’t know about the quarantine?” He asked me like it should be common knowledge for survivors, but I suspect he wanted to distract me from his wife.

  I shrugged, with my eye still on her, and told the truth. “I was in jail.” I glanced at him. “Might be what saved me.”

  His eyes widened, looking at the police car then back at me, taking in the bloodstains splattered on my clothes from my first zombie kills. From the look on his face, he assumed I was a serial killer or rapist.

  “I got in a bar fight,” I said, feeling irritated and running my hand through my hair. I froze and balled my hand into a fist, suddenly remembering the fight was because of the brunette. Fucking women.

  My statement seemed to put him at ease. I, however, wasn’t at ease because blood seeped through the woman’s dress on her leg. It was safe to assume she was bitten. “You can come, but your wife stays here.” I sounded harsh, but my survival instincts were screaming at me.

  “No, no. They will make her better. We just have to get to the quarantine. Please. You don’t understand.” I looked away from his pleading eyes and desperate stance. Maybe I didn’t understand, but I highly doubted anyone could do anything for her.

  A thud announced the newly risen inside of the car. We both jumped away from it. She slammed her face against the window and scraped at the glass with an eyetooth. Her lip pressed against it. It was a sharp tooth, her lip got caught, but she kept chomping at the glass and smearing blood on the window.

  “My God! Missy!” He moved toward the handle.

  I cocked the gun at him, impressed with myself at the speed with which I did it. “Don’t fucking open that door, I won’t hesitate to shoot her.” The guy started trembling, his face drained of color as hopelessness took place in his eyes. I felt for him, I did. “Get in the car.” I motioned toward the cruiser. I wasn’t going to leave him here. He was a living being, and I didn’t know how many zombies were out there. “If you want to live. Get. In. The. Car.” I snapped through my clenched teeth. My jaw was going to get locked if I didn’t stop.

  That’s how I got stuck with a crying man. I always thought a crying woman was bad, but nothing was worse than a man bawling his eyes out.

  “What’s your name?” I asked him. Talking to him would be my way of comfort. The guy just left his pregnant zombie wife on the side of the road.

  He hiccupped to a stop. I hoped I didn’t look as relieved as I felt. “Taylor.” His voice cracked as he swiped his hands down his face. In my opinion, it was better than sobbing.

  “I’m Rudy.”

  He sniffed before asking, “Like the football player?”

  “Like the reindeer,” I mumbled too low for him to hear.

  “Huh?”

  I sighed and gripped the wheel. “Yes, like the football player.” I would ask him where he lived, but I didn’t want to talk about the past at the moment. It wouldn’t do him any good. I couldn’t think of anything else to say for comfort that was deemed appropriate. I blamed my lonely childhood for my lack of social graces. I needed a beer.

  The closer we got to Baton Rouge, vehicles started piling up in the opposite direction, as if there were a back-up after an evacuation. Trapped zombies scuffled inside a few of them. Eventually, the highway came together and more cars littered both sides. A few of the dead roamed about. I even hit some out of necessity, not that I wanted to, not really. Taylor recoiled every time.

  “We should have shot her,” he stated. I didn’t disagree with him, but it surprised me he said so. I wanted to tell him how lucky he was for not being in the car with her, but I kept it to myself. He looked to be in shock, staring at our new reality walking around. I expected him to ask what we were doing, making a dumb move by going to the city, but he never did. I didn’t think he cared if he lived or died at this point. “It was a girl.”

  “Don’t. We aren’t going to talk about the past. It’s over and we need to keep moving.” I turned the radio on. Static blared out, but the crackle of a recorded voice followed us the rest of the way.

  4

  Then

  Darkness had fallen by the time Taylor and I arrived at my apartment complex. I was half in shock from learning a little about what was going on. Radio broadcasts informed survivors about a military base in Clarksville, Tennessee. Taylor had been right about that. The base was a quarantine for the living until whatever had been unleashed upon us could be contained. Our infrastructure was trying to retain some kind of order and wanted no one to panic. They wanted no one else dead. Half the world’s population was already
gone. Big cities, gone. From what I had seen in the small town, the local government underestimated the situation and it was blowing up in their faces.

  Sitting in the parking lot, much like the other night, I felt no hope. Cars still sat in their spaces. There didn’t seem to be any sign of living people. A few zombies roamed around, but we caught their attention upon parking. My heart hammered as I watched them through the window. We had to act fast. Looking at Taylor in the dark, his body shook, but he kept his sobs quiet.

  “Taylor, we have to get out of here. See?” I point to the zombies shuffling their way through the maze of cars. Their moans muffled through the windows. We weren’t far from the lit breezeway so we could make it if we hurried.

  He shuddered and sucked in a big breath. “Dear God,” he said. His voice cracked and his body seized with fear.

  I grabbed his arm in a tight grip. “Taylor, listen to me. If you want to die, tell me now so I can use you as zombie bait. I don’t have time to coddle you.”

  This seemed to wake him from whatever trance he was in. He jerked his arm out of my grip, locking his steely gaze with mine. A terse nod from him let me know he was ready.

  I swallowed and glanced to the apartment window while sticking the 9 mm in my jeans. What would I find there? Popping the trunk, I opened my door. “Wait a minute,” I whispered and stepped out, keeping low all the way to the trunk. Gargled groans echoed through the air. I needed a distraction.

  After searching the trunk, I found what I needed, plus a first aid kit and a baseball bat. The flare gun wasn’t hard to load. I pointed it in the direction the zombies were coming from. A burst of fire shot out when I squeezed the trigger, making the noise and light I needed it to. Without waiting to see if it worked and keeping low, I waved Taylor out. To my surprise, he was ready with the vinyl duffle in hand and didn’t take much time to climb out of the driver side door.

  I handed him the flare gun, extra flares, and the first aid kit. “Stay behind me,” I whispered, holding the bat as if I were on home plate.

  Glancing around, I noticed the flare did the job. Several zombies congregated around the general area of the flare. A rocky scuffle brought my attention back in front of me.

  “Jesus, help us!” Taylor whispered in a harsh tone. I was getting tired of his asinine requests to a higher power. It could be his own mindless reaction, but God was not helping us, and neither was Jesus, apparently.

  I gestured for him to be quiet. Through the darkness, I couldn’t make out the zombie’s features well. The silhouette ambled at a slow pace, not making any sounds. Its movements were slanted and unnatural. It hadn’t noticed us yet. I stood, shifting into the moonlight. It let out a gurgle, speeding up its shuffle. I stepped forward when it got close and swung the bat, hitting it in the temple with a meaty pop. It tripped sideways into a car. I kicked it down so my range of motion would be greater and cause more damage. I used a chopping action this time and whacked it in the forehead a few times. I stopped when cold drops splattered my arms.

  Taylor breathed heavily behind me as if he were the one doing the work. I glanced back, waving him forward.

  We made it to the lit breezeway I’d been in thousands of times. I remembered many flirtatious encounters with the strawberry blonde, either at the mailboxes, the Stop and Shop up the street, or right here in this exact spot. Her light blue eyes would blink at me in appreciation. Her curves moved as if to tempt me to follow her into her apartment. I stopped Taylor with my hand. I was frozen. Rooted to the ground I stood on, a vivid memory flashed from a particularly bad day.

  My breathing had been ragged as I stretched my calves. Standing, I wiped sweat from my face and neck with my T-shirt before throwing it over my shoulder. I brutalized myself with this run. Making my way to the stairs, she stepped from the lower level apartment. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of me before a slow grin emerged across her face.

  “Look at you. Nice run?” She bit her lip as her eyes traveled the length of my body, but today I wasn’t in the mood for it.

  I threw her a mirthless tilt of my lips, slid my T-shirt back on and shrugged. Grabbing the banister, I made it a couple of steps before her fingertips gliding down my arm stopped me. The blue in her eyes had given way to concern.

  “What are you doing with her? She makes you miserable.” I swallowed at her caring tone. She didn’t deserve my attitude. I had felt myself softening toward her and changing my mind about blowing her off until she opened her mouth again. “You know she has someone with her when you’re not here, right?” My insides had started to ice over as her blues leveled on me and she squeezed my forearm. “You could have someone on the side, too.” It wasn’t the fact she decided to tell me about Jules, but the fact that she assumed I would want to do the same.

  I bent down in front of her face. The excitement had been palpable in her demeanor. “You got it wrong. She shares him with me.”

  Her eyes widened and she stepped back, perusing my body in a new way. The grin never left her face. For fuck’s sake. My erroneous statement had backfired. I grinned wide at her because maybe one day, I’d give her what she wanted.

  The memory shattered as her ravenous moan cut through the open corridor. The brazen sparkle that usually lit her features was vacant. Her face was bitten halfway off. Her leftover eyelid drooped over the bloodshot blue iris. It needed to be killed before it killed us.

  “Sorry,” I said to her walking corpse. I felt I had to say it before beating her in the head with a baseball bat. I kept my eyes closed for the most part. The wet smacks made my arms tremble. I huffed with my chest rising and falling rapidly. I never knew her name—an indication we wouldn’t have worked anyway. Surely, if I had a special interest in her, I would’ve asked for her name.

  Taylor audibly gulped beside me. “Is that who we’re here for?”

  “No.”

  “But…you hesitated,” he managed, looking back and forth between the corpse and me.

  I looked at the mess. Her legs were sprawled and twisted. I wasn’t going to stop telling him the truth now. “I’m pretty sure she wanted to hop in the sack with me.” What I didn’t tell him was that on most days, I hated it. On the other days, I hated myself for liking it. Taylor’s face scrunched as he gazed back down with renewed interest.

  I sighed, looking to the second floor apartments, knowing exactly why I never hopped into the sack with her. Taylor and I didn’t run into any more zombies when reaching the door of my apartment. Our door. That was locked. I stuck my ear to it and heard nothing.

  Not sure the best way to go about this because I never found my own keys or wallet. I lightly tapped the door and listened for movement. After a few minutes of nothing, I clenched my jaw using the strength in my leg to kick it open with as little noise as possible. A yelp sounded from the back room. I took stock of the apartment. Everything was in order.

  “Jules?” I called quietly and a sharp gasp came from the back bedroom. I grabbed Taylor, pulling him in before closing the door behind us. The lock and chain was busted. We needed to leave soon.

  I turned to find her standing at the edge of the hallway with a flashlight shining in my eyes. I flipped on the living room light. Her curly fair hair was a mess, her face puffy and red but underneath pure white.

  “Rudy? Where have you been?” Her voice bubbled with extra saliva. “What’s going on? I saw….” She trailed off, looking at the window blocked by her stupid gauzy curtains I paid a small fortune for. I glared and grabbed the throw blanket off the couch and began to cover the window so light didn’t shine out.

  My jaw tightened and twitched. “I’m glad to see you’re alive, too. Taylor. You can sit on the couch.”

  She watched him stumble to the couch before blinking, finally seeing me and taking in my gory appearance. Her little mouth opened. No doubt to beat me down.

  “What have you done now?” Her body visibly trembled, shock coming to the surface. “And who is that?” She gestured toward Taylor.
<
br />   “Taylor. A survivor. Leave him alone. He’s been through enough. You need to eat, Jules. We have to leave for Tennessee. We’ll be safe there.” I bent and took her face in my blood-splattered hands. I looked into her blue eyes and pushed back all the feelings of betrayal and resentment. I’d tried so hard to fall back in love with these eyes but love takes two.

  I sat her at our little dinette table. No telling when she ate last. I jerked the duffle from the floor and tossed some wrapped cakes at her and Taylor, who looked at me gratefully. I felt a twinge of guilt for not offering before now. Julie, however, just stared at them.

  I sighed, unwrapping one for her. “Eat.” The demand came out harsh. She took the cake out of my hand, sparing me a glare. I returned it as I laid a gun on the table. “If one of those things comes through that door, shoot it.” I turned to the fridge. That bastard left me one beer. One beer. I grabbed it, not staying to fuss and watch her eat.

  I made my way to the hallway, but Julie jumped up before I could enter it. “Wait!” She ran to me. “Um….” Sweat beaded on her top lip and her hands quivered.

  “Ju-lie.” I turned toward the hallway from where her name was spoken by a weak voice.

  I turned slowly to stare at her wide eyes and pointed my finger down the hall. “Who. The. Fuck. Is. That?” I stabbed the air with every word.

  She swallowed a whimper, but I marched down the hallway while Julie started babbling at my heels. “Um, a neighbor. H-he saved me at the mailboxes. He’s r-really s-sick.”