Chapter 55- It's time for your bloodbath

This was it. The zombies had a firm grip on my skull, I could feel their bones piercing my cheeks and cutting into my ears. Any minute now I expected to feel the bite of some monster's teeth sink into my skull.

It's interesting the things you think about in those last moments of life. I remember seeing a zombie movie. An 80's era remake of George Romero's classic night of the living dead, at least I think it was. I don't remember the plot, if there even was one, but a particular scene stood out to me. They were in a jail or prison or something, someplace with bars separating the living from the undead. Somehow the person in the scene turned their back on the zombies and they grabbed him, pulling him toward the bars and biting into his skull. It crumbled like it was made of paper mâché. I assumed then that Zombies has supernatural strength, that their jaws and teeth were somehow imbued with a power normal people did not possess. How else would something as hard as a skull be crushed so easily? Skulls were hard, something I learned many times over as a young child, yet these demonic creatures seemed to squish it with ease, feasting on the delicious brains inside with voracious enthusiasm. Could they do the same to me? Was my skull suddenly soft like the skin of a grapefruit?

Tracy would be all alone. If she was there at our storage unit, how long would she wait? Was Whitney right? Would the storage unit not be enough to protect her? Tracy had mentioned a cabin up in the mountains. Some place owned by her parents. Would she make her way there? I pulled uselessly against the strong grip of the creatures holding me through the window. This was it. I was going to die.

I felt my stomach lurch as a heavy weight pounded my abdomen. Oliver had leapt on my stomach and was swinging his hammer ferociously. I heard the crack of bones and the tearing of flesh mixed with his short heaving breath and the little grunts of exertion. I looked up and saw his hammer smack the forearm attached the hand grasping my hair, and felt the grip loosen. I tried to pull away from the window but another hand on my shoulder and a third gripping my left ear held me firmly in place. I knew my ear was bleeding, and could feel one of the bony fingers inside it. I couldn't hear anything out of it, had the beast broken my ear drum, or was its finger simply plugging the hole? I strained against it but the vice-like grip was relentless.

How did these creatures have such power, such strength? I wasn't a scientist or a doctor, but I could only assume the nerve centers that tell us we're tired or in pain were somehow cut off from the brain. While I might run a mile and be winded, perhaps they could run indefinitely, until their muscles or organs failed. I remembered someone telling me when I was younger about the difference between a donkey and a horse. I always assumed donkeys were less intelligent, perhaps because of the ridiculous "he haw" sound they made, or those silly ears and large snout, but the truth was actually the opposite. Donkeys were known to be stubborn because they refused to work when they were tired, a sign of distinct intelligence. Horses, on the other hand, would run at their master's request until they dropped dead from exhaustion and muscle fatigue. I was the donkey and these zombies were like horses, they wouldn't give up, the wouldn't release their grips, they wouldn't relinquish their pursuit unless their bodies failed. It would be our job to make that happen, or become their next meal.

Oliver smacked his hammer on the hand gripping my ear, and I felt a sharp pain as the bony finger plunged deeper into my ear. The grip immediately loosened, and I pulled away a little. I felt the finger still lodged in my ear cavity and felt a tearing like I was ripping apart a chicken wing at KFC. Oliver must have broken its hand, allowing me to tear free.

Oliver knelt on the seat, his hands holding firmly to the hammer held firmly in his little hand...

I pulled hard against my attackers. "Come on, drive!" I heard him yell, the sound only entering my right ear. I pulled the broken finger from my ear hole and discarded it to the floor. Shifting the truck into gear, I slammed on the gas. As it heaved forward the creatures grasping at the hood disappeared and I felt the slippery crunch of their bones under the wheels. I leaned away from the reaching hands trying to grab me through the window and kept pressure on the pedal. The truck pulled free of the bodies trapped beneath us and we began moving down the freeway once more, making distance between us and the limping, lurching horde behind us. Oliver knelt on the seat, his hands holding firmly to the hammer held firmly in his little hand, his eyes glued to the pack of monsters behind us. A small look of triumph spread across his blood spattered face.

Chapter 54- In their site

I hopped down and pulled the tarp from the truck bed, looking for a chain or tow strap or anything I could use to move the cars from our path. A duffel bag full of climbing gear seemed promising, but the rope, while strong, would have too much stretch to be much use in this case. I looked back at the floral van behind us. A light commercial vehicle, perhaps they had an adequate roadside assistance kit. With my crowbar in one hand, I tried to open the driver's side door but found it locked. Cupping my free hand around my eyes I pressed my nose to the glass. The interior was dark and I could just make out the shelves of flowers stacked in back. I circled around to the rear and found the back doors locked as well. I contemplated just smashing the window but knew there was no guarantee I would find chains or straps inside. I tried the handle of a nearby hatchback, but found it empty with the exception of a few cigarette butts and an opened energy drink. The sun was beginning to peek through the buildings, raising high enough into the sky that some of the shadows were beginning to disappear. As it reflected off the windows of the various buildings I shielded my eyes, squinting to keep the bright sun from searing my retinas. As I turned my head away from the light I saw the familiar glint of yellow painted metal, and saw a construction site surrounded by chain link fencing. A large gate was locked securely with a short chain, and a temporary office lay just beyond the fence. Several different trucks sat quietly in the yard, waiting for their operators to arrive on the 8am train. Diamond plate tool boxes were mounted in the back of each truck, and the keys would undoubtedly be hanging on hooks or in a bin on the desk inside the office. Scaling the fence would be easy enough, and I hopped the guardrail and moved quickly toward the site. Grasping the fence firmly I pulled myself upward, wedging my toe in the fence as best as my shoe would allow. The fence rattled loudly as I pulled myself toward the top, wobbling back and forth in an ungainly fashion.


As I leapt towards the ground I made sure to keep my feet together so I wouldn't break an ankle, and dropped to one knee as I absorbed the impact. The fence rattled back and forth, echoing in the silent morning air. I looked back at the truck and saw Oliver watching me from the window. I turned toward the office and walked up the steps cautiously. As I approached the door I saw the handle move. A scuffling sound came from inside. I paused, immediately assuming the worst. Peeking through the window I could see a dark shape shuffling slowly inside. I stepped slowly backward, looking around the yard. While only a moment ago I felt safer inside the chain link perimeter I now suddenly felt trapped, contained. The door rattled again, as though something inside was trying to get out. I moved toward one of the trucks, keeping one eye on the office while I lifted the lid of the toolbox mounted in back. The rusty metal hinges creaked as I opened the diamond plated lid and searched its contents. As my fingers laid hold of a thick chain I smiled with success and pulled them from the box. The heavy links scraped loudly on the box and clanked together, creating more racket than I intended. As the sound echoed off the buildings above, I heard a distant moan coming from the shadows under the bridge. I heaved the thick chain over my shoulder, feeling its weight across my back. The cold metal sent a shiver down my spine and I looked nervously from the office door to the darkness under the freeway.

Oliver looked understandably nervous as I attempted to climb the fence. The extra weight made it much more challenging to climb, and I struggled to find footing in the chain link. I neared the top of the fence and stood on the latch while I tossed the chain over. It crashed to the ground, the loud ringing reverberating once more against the bridge above. The moans grew closer, and something began to throw its weight against the office door behind me. It buckled and bent, shaking the thin walls and threatening to rock off its cinderblock foundation. As I pulled myself over the top the door burst open, and two hulking construction workers filled the doorway, their thick yellow eyes pointed upward as they listened, searching for something or someone. As my smell his their noses they turned toward the fence, rushing toward it like berserking animals. The first one smacked into the fence, the grey pallor in his face pressing hard against the metallic net. As he arrived, the second stumbled into the first, smashing his face against the fence and causing a large gash to appear on its forehead. Thick black ooze seeped from the cut, congealing almost immediately as it hit the air. It pushed backward toward the other, and lunged back at the fence, rocking it dangerously toward me. Afraid it might topple under their collective effort, I backed up, lifting one end the chain and dragging it toward the truck.

"Come on!" Oliver called out to me, glancing nervously toward the tunnel. "They're coming!" He called out. I glanced down the road that ran underneath the tunnel and saw dozens of shapes lumbering out of the darkness. A wave of panic filled me with dread and I ran up the road past the stop sign. Squeezing between two of the cars blocking our path, I heaved the chain into the truck bed and climbed into the driver's side door. "What about the cars?" Oliver called out, panicking as he pointed at the blockade in front of us. I turned the key and pumped the gas, fruitlessly urging the truck to start. "We can come back later, or take a different ramp." I said, pausing a moment before trying the key again.

A large crash to our right made Oliver jump in his seat. The fence was down, and the two infected construction workers began moving rapidly toward us. They were still a hundred or so feet away, but were closing rapidly. On the left a pack of these hungry monsters emerged into the light, their pale skin making their faces appear colorless. They wedged between the cars in front of us, eagerly attempting to get to us at the same time. I tried the ignition again, failing once more. "Come on!" Oliver said, his voice raising by an octave and his hands shaking. One of the monsters broke free of the pinched horde and lunged toward the hood of the truck. He wore a torn suit, his tie hanging loosely from a ripped collar and one sleeve of his jacket missing. His face was full of blind fury and he tore at the hood with his scabby black hands, unwilling or unable to understand that the easier way to obtain his goal would be to walk around to the doors.

I twisted the key again, pumping the gas pedal. "Come on!" I called out, willing the engine to turn. Oliver looked at me desperately, gripping his hammer so tight his knuckles were turning white. Two more broke free of their entanglement and burst toward the truck as the engine roared to life. I pumped the pedal vigorously and tossed it into reverse. Looking behind us, I began driving backwards, pulling around the flower delivery van and past the smaller cars behind it. The beasts kept pace, clawing the hood like enraged animals. The cars were so tightly arranged it was impossible to build up any speed, and watched nervously as several more began advancing toward us. As we returned to the freeway I saw almost a dozen right on top of us. I swung around and slammed on the brakes hard, spinning the passenger's side away from the growing horde.

The glass on the driver's side door burst as one of the beasts heaved a large rock through the window. Angry hands reached through the glass, grasping my hair and the collar of my shirt. I could smell the putrid stench on their hands and felt the bony tips of their fingers as they struggled to pull me out. One managed to pull his face through the broken glass, his teeth snapping at me, desperately trying to bite me. I heard Oliver's screams and felt his small arms struggling to pull me back toward him. "No! No!" His little voice called out desperately. "Run Oliver!" I called to him. "Run, and don't stop!" I managed to turn my head enough to see the tears in his eyes. I could see his terror, his fear of the situation mingled with his fear of being alone. I struggled against the collective strength of my attackers but was unable to bak their grip. With every moment they pulled me closer and closer. I looked back at Oliver, feeling myself mo worried for him than myself. A tear ran down his dirty face and I saw him sob. "Not you too..."

Chapter 53- Off ramp

A sign above us read "Elm Street 1/2 mile" and I moved over into the right lane. I could see the off ramp in the distance, packed with abandoned cars. The virus must have mutated just before the peak of rush hour because there was a significant number of abandoned cars lined up as though waiting their turn to exit. I felt a pang of sorrow for the fathers who would never see their families again, for the children who wondered why mommy never came home. How many children were unintentionally abandoned, like Oliver was, and how many more watched as their loved ones were attacked by these monsters, only to have the blood stained faces turn and slowly approach them next?  The cries of a child being attacked by its own mother sent a shiver up my spine and feeling of nausea in my throat.  

I moved my head from left to right, trying to get a better view of the traffic congestion ahead. Most of the vehicles seemed to be lined up patiently, waiting for their turn to exit, but it was apparent that the change had caught a few by surprise. I slowed down as I passed a minivan burned to a crisp. It was still smoldering, the entire front half crumpled into the back of an SUV. I did't have the stomach to look inside the windows. Another car had climbed up over the barricade, it's front wheels hanging idly in the air. The driver's side door hung open and I could see deployed airbags hanging limply from the steering wheel and dashboard.

"Where'd they all go?" My young passenger asked. Oliver's voice was filled with that wide eyed wonder characteristic of boys his age, where curiosity always overpowers danger. I steered the car between a large truck and an overturned motorcycle. "They're probably all looking for food." That satisfied him, probably because he imagined cute little families rummaging about the local grocer, helping themselves to the abundance of food abandoned by the world's conversion. Conversely, the thought immediately put me on edge, knowing that these drivers and passengers had probably been changed into infected ghouls, hell-bent on attacking any soul who hadn't been changed by this latest mutation of the virus. What my little companion didn't realize was that, the "food" these monsters were looking for was the few remaining people like us, and that by charting our course into the city we were practically driving onto a dinner plate. Unlike the relative safety of staying along the bypass that circled the city where we could maneuver around a few stragglers, we were now willfully advancing into the heart of the population where we would be in almost constant danger, trapped between towering buildings and countless abandoned vehicles. Compared to the numbers we'd encountered the previous day on the road we would be faced with hundreds more, and the false sense of security created by this vacant scene only meant they may have collected in even greater numbers deeper within the confines of the city.

 I bit my lip, thinking of Tracy. Had she even made it to our supply cache? Would she still be there? The thought of stepping foot in what would most likely be not just my death but the demise of my new young friend gave me pause. What if she wasn't there? Was I unnecessarily putting our lives in jeopardy for mere hope? No, not hope, but something stronger, something that drives me to survive.  I realized Tracy meant more to me than mere companionship, she and I had a deep connection, something neither of us had dared to speak of but I was sure we both felt.  It was more than romantic love, more than lust or infatuation, and I found my heart yearning for her, to protect her, to be near her, to keep her safe at all costs.  At this thought I steeled my resolve.  She wouldn't abandon me, and I certainly wouldn't abandon her. Resolutely I turned off the road, guiding our vehicle slowly and deliberately through the maze of empty vehicles on the off ramp.

The buildings of the city poked up from the ground like thick spikes, their steel and glass facades quietly reaching skyward, but their interiors teeming with certain danger. Could they get out, or were they trapped inside these man made prisons, unable to retrieve the cognitive power to use simple mechanics like a elevator button or stairway door handle? What were they doing right now? Wandering mindlessly about the office like the group we ran into on the freeway, or were they actively pursing the last remaining survivors, those poor souls who locked themselves in a supply closet or made their way to the roof? I wondered about that moment of change, when smiling men and women in their cubicles put down their phones and abandoned their laptops, and began staring at the wall. I thought of my own office, the round glass conference room where the managers spent hours debating various issues and pouring over detailed analytics. I thought of a manager standing at the front of a conference room, trying to direct attention to his carefully prepared PowerPoint presentation while the department heads stared at him blankly. Did he notice their eyes changing color? Did he think they were playing some sort of prank on him? Did he demand at the top of his lungs that they "cut out this nonsense!" and focus back on the company's top priority, some obscure financial goal that now meant nothing? I thought of the Jeff, Marcie, and Dwayne. Did they all change too, or stand around in curious shock when it started? As the transformation completed did they realize what was happening in time or were they run down near the water cooler or devoured by the copier? I shuddered and focused back on the vacant scene ahead.

As I neared the bottom of the off ramp the freeway loomed above our heads ominously. The massive cement pillars cast deep shadows across the road, making it difficult to discern the way ahead. We pulled around a large floral delivery van and immediately had to stop. Cars occupied all three lanes and a fourth had pulled around them onto the shoulder, stuck solidly in a space that was clearly too small to fit through. An impassible barricade, this obstacle would require we either abandon our truck or find a way to move a few cars out of our way. I pulled to a halt and opened the door, stepping on the door sill and standing up to get a view of the road beyond. Past the blockade the road was almost vacant, a few cars here and there but a clear way to move deeper into the city. There was no sign of roaming monsters that I could see, but the large buildings of the downtown area cast massive shadows in which almost anything could hide.

"What do we do?" Oliver asked, leaning over onto the driver's seat and looking up at me where I stood. "Stay in the truck," I commanded. My eyes scanned the shadows, looking for movement. I looked back at Oliver, expecting to apologize for my harsh tone but smiled as I saw him sitting back in his seat, hands gripped firmly around his hammer. A small, confident smile sat in his lips as he vigilantly looked through the front windshield. He looked strong, capable, and confident.  I was impressed with his ability to cope with the atrocities we'd encountered thus far, especially when you considered what trauma he had been through just before we met.  He was stronger than I was, stronger than anyone I knew.  He was meant for this new world, and the thought of that scared me.