Rescue: 100 Miles, page 7
part #1 of Rescue: 100 Miles Series
The clouds were lightening up now to a shade of pale grey, the rain was moving off. The wind had dropped, the fire was still warm enough to heat the room and that heat crept out into the hallway and up the stairs. Layla had got up twice and left the room and returned in the time they waited for the storm to pass. The storm had lasted for over an hour and now it was gone. Porter went over to the armchair and gave Rex a nudge. He woke up sharply, blinked and then looked around the room before recalling exactly where they were, and why they were here.
“Storm's over. We have to get moving,” said Porter.
Layla came back into the room. The light from the oil lamp was glowing to chase away the dullness of the weather outside, but it did nothing to hide the fear reflected in her eyes as from upstairs, something between a screech and a snarl could be heard. Rex and Porter exchanged a glance and as Porter turned to Layla, her eyes were wide.
“My sister...”
“Wait here,” said Porter, and dashed for the stairs, drawing a pistol as Rex followed.
“No!” yelled Layla, taking the stairs two at a time to catch up with them.
As Porter approached the open door, one glance summed up the situation: At least Layla, despite hoping her sister wouldn't change, had the good sense to tie her down, just in case the worst happened. And the worst had certainly happened now. Jodie was straining at her bonds, face pale and eyes dead white, snarling and mouth running with slime as she fought so hard the bonds cut through flesh and spattered her nightgown with a spray of red. Porter raised the gun.
“NO!” Layla yelled again.
Porter raised the weapon skyward, panicked as Layla dived in the line of fire. On the bed, Jodie was thrashing and snarling. The bite on her arm was deep and dark as pitch.
“She might get better!”
“No, she won't,” Porter said, “Get out of the way!”
“She's my sister!”
“Maybe you shouldn't do it,” Rex said quietly as he stood there looking on.
Porter was thankful for his moment of lucid insight, and held out the gun to Layla.
“She's not your sister any more. She's a zombie. And you're a zombie killer.”
For a moment they just looked at each other as the newly transformed Jodie thrashed and snarled and the sound echoed about the room. Layla slowly turned her head. The creature that used to be Jodie bared teeth and snarled with hunger in its eyes. The moment of hesitation was over.
“I am a zombie killer,” said Layla quietly, and she took the gun from Porter's hand, checked the weapon, then stepped closer to the bed, holding it in well practised firing stance and squeezed the trigger. The bullet was a direct hit, sending blood and brains spattered over the pillow and the bed sheets as the creature fell still. Layla lowered the weapon, staring at the sight of the dead zombie that had once been family. The gun hung limp in her hand as Porter took it back.
“You did the right thing.”
That hardened look was back in Layla's eyes. Now the worst had happened, it was time to move on.
“I need some help to shift the body,” she said, looking to the creature that was no longer her sister, “Zombies stink bad when they die.”
They placed the body in the field, far from the house. Porter stripped the sheets from the bed and dumped them over the fence. Layla had quietly accepted what had happened with the kind of resolve only the young could possess. Porter wanted to get moving again. It was a long way to go in zombie infested territory, and they had no vehicle and limited weapons. Thoughts had shifted back to family, and the fact that two nights after leaving, and eighty miles covered, there were still miles to go and that uncertainty was starting to rip at hope and the desperate need dwelling in heart and mind to know they were both still alive. What if it was too late and they were dead? It was something Porter couldn't bear to think about. But the fear lingered as every moment crawled by and with it came the realisation that there was no way to calculate how long this journey would take, because out here, anything could happen and soon, bullets would run low. If they came up against a horde, it would be the end...
Porter was still thinking on those facts after getting cleaned up. Taking sheets and pillows off a bed spattered with bone and blood and brains was a messy task, and so was the clean up of the room.
“Thanks.”
Layla stood in the doorway, a look of resignation in her eyes. The worst had happened and she had handled it.
“You did the right thing,” Porter replied, turning from the now spotless room where no trace of blood or brains remained.
The coldness and sorrow lifted briefly from Layla's gaze.
“Most people are selfish fuckers these days. Out for themselves. But you're actually alright.”
“Thanks.”
“What did you do before?” asked Layla, “You must have had a really good job... Doctor, teacher, or maybe something with some action to it... firefighter?”
Porter smiled.
“Nothing so important.”
“What did you do, you must have been really good at something?”
That question made Porter's heart ache, looking away to blink back a sting of tears, along with memories of a bright room and splashes of colour and the company that made life worth living and a memory of the sounds that made existing a joyful experience...
“It wasn't something that mattered to the wider world, but it was everything to me,” Porter replied.
“Are you okay?” Layla sounded worried.
Porter looked back at her, pushing away thoughts that were too painful to dwell on as memories crowded in and fears for family grew heavier.
“I have to leave. Tonight will be the third night since they were taken. I can't hang around.”
In that moment, Layla didn't seem like a hardened zombie killer any more, just a scared mid teen who didn't want to be left alone in a world infested with the undead.
“I wish you could stay.”
“They need me,” Porter reminded her, “I have to find my family. What about you, what are you going to do now you're on your own?”
“Kaylee said she's coming to fetch me once she gets a car,” she replied, “She's my best friend. We've got a plan to get on the road, find a better place. Or we might stay here, it depends. I want to look after this house but if we get any trouble we will have to leave....” she frowned, “I haven't seen her for weeks, I hope she's alright.”
“I hope she is too,” Porter replied, “I'd offer you to come with us, but -”
“No, you can fight Sinclair's people without me, I've got no plans on getting shot! Sorry, but that's how it is!”
“Just stay safe, Layla.”
“Of course I will, I'm a zombie killer!” she said with optimism shining in her gaze.
They went back downstairs. Rex was in the kitchen, washing his hands to clean away the last trace of blood from the messy clean up. The wind blew stronger outside, rattling a window as for a moment, it seemed to carry a moan with it. Rex turned off the tap. It dripped and then stopped. Porter and Layla froze, the three of them standing there listening, hearing nothing but the rattling frame as a breeze hit it once more. The moment had passed. In a world where the sound and stink of the undead – or even a suggestion of it – heightened fear from zero to one thousand in a second, all three of them were breathing out slowly in relief as the wind whipped about the house. Just the wind. It made sounds. Ordinary sounds, so easily mistaken for flesh eaters in these altered times...
“It was nothing.”
Layla shifted the curtain aside and looked out to a field where beyond, the wind stirred leaves in trees and smaller branches shivered. She laughed, hiding her unease.
“It happens, you hear noises, think the worst... there's nothing out there.”
“Do you know where Sinclair is based?” Porter asked.
Layla paused of thought.
“Long way from here – a few miles. And there's a town coming up, once you get to the end of this road and cross the motorway, it all changes. It's full of zombies. We never go further than the petrol station at the end of the road. It's not worth it. But it's a long walk around to avoid town – I don't have a car, I'm sorry. I can't do any more to help. Just don't go through the town...but if you want to find Sinclair, you hit the coast after the town. Then you'll find him. I hope you don't die. But I think you will. You need more people, with guns – fucking big ones!”
Porter thought about the odds. But fear of dying was nothing at all when sat beside the very real possibility of losing those who mattered most.
“I'll take my chances. I have nothing to lose by trying. They're all I care about.”
The wind dashed and howled about the old place again. That sound was louder now, and as cold air escaped into the room, with it came an unmistakeable stench of rotting flesh. The spike of panic that cut through the air was like an electrical charge, everyone instantly on high alert as a scraping and moaning came from the front door. Bumps and thumps could be heard around boarded windows and against cracked walls. Rex looked about in panic. Porter handed him a gun as Layla spoke up.
“We had this once before... three of 'em, wandered down the lane and straight up to the house. We shot them. This sounds like more than three!”
Layla darted from the room to fetch her weapon. Porter pushed aside the curtain, looking out the see a small gap in the fencing and the field beyond, where shuffled past the unmistakeable shape of one of the undead, stumbling, as snarls and moans of more filled the air. Then the window was obscured by a rotting corpse as it scratched at the glass with sharp, bone exposed fingers. It opened its mouth and hissed as it set sights on the living within the house. Porter turned from the window, eyes wide. A moment ago, it had all been silent out there save for the howl of wind that brought to mind the zombies, then silence had fallen as the three of them all felt like paranoid fools. And now, the worst was happening...
Porter hurried from the room and made for the stairs as Rex followed. Layla was already up there, leaving the bedroom and crossing to the upper hallway, where she looked out, seeing a small horde stumbling towards the house from the road, they were roaming around the building, mostly concentrated at the front, but as a corpse in rags looked up and dead eyes spied the face at the window, it snarled and then others did the same, crowding in as the front door bounced, straining at the vulnerable spot where damp wood met and served as a temporary lock.
“There's a few out the back, in the field,” said Layla, But they're mostly at the front of the house... “ she was loading up her weapon now, and then grabbing a box of ammo.
“You need to go out the back way. You'll have to run. That door won't hold much longer!”
“What about you?” Porter demanded.
“Don't worry about me, I'm going up!”
Porter handed a gun to Rex, placing a hand on his shoulder, then speaking clearly and slowly, giving a deadly warning:
“I know you think you can't see them. But those creatures are real and you have to shoot them out of the way. I'm going first, you're behind me, right?”
Rex looked at the gun in his hand, a trigger for instant retreat into a fantasy world where no horror could touch him.
“I don't know what a zombie is -”
“Okay then, suspects, get in armed response mode! Shoot the armed suspects, can you do that?”
Rex looked down the stairs and nodded.
“Yes I can...” he was breaking into a sweat as the door visibly bounced with a thump of the weight thrown against it from the outside.
“I'm going up. You'd better get ready to run when I start shooting!” said Layla, and then she darted into the bedroom, opened up the window and climbed out.
Porter stared after her, and Layla glanced back as she found her footing on the roof.
“Go!” she urged, and then she began to scramble higher, and was no longer visible from the open window.
Porter took a deep breath, seeing that door vibrate again with the sheer force of the undead ramming against it. Any moment now it would burst open. They had to get down the stairs, past that door and out through the back way and then out the kitchen, across the garden, then out the gate and into the field. Layla would be on the roof. She could only take out so many...
“Let's go!” said Porter, and ran down the stairs, guts twisting with fear.
Rex followed, clutching the pistol tightly. They made it to the kitchen just as the sound came that they had been dreading : The front door burst open, as the sounds and stink of the undead filled the house. Porter opened up the back door as a lone zombie staggered over the threshold, mouth open and snarling. Porter fired off a single shot that sent brains and skull fragments spattered bloody on the kitchen ceiling, then stepped over the body, fired off another shot and felled a second creature.
They ran across the lawn, Porter wrenched open the gate and looked back to see Layla standing on the roof, weapon in hand, aiming out into the field. A shot rang out with a crack and downed a wandering corpse as it stumbled closer. More were crowding in the house now, and spilling into the garden. Cold dead hands reached out, snagging Porter's combat clothing and Rex raised his weapon, sending a bullet into the zombie, smack between the eyes. There was a roar as something part staggered, part ran from the tall grass. As it came closer, it was clear to see the creature was partially burned and part covered in ripped and scorched clothing. It ran at them as Porter led the way, making a dash for the trees, striking the jaw of the creature with the butt of the pistol, the blow was heavy, bone rattling, wrist jarring, and Porter gave a yell on impact, but the creature had now veered off to the right, where it staggered, salivating, blood oozing dark as it swayed, dead eyes fixed on them, and now missing a whole jawbone.
As they stopped running and breathlessly looked back, Porter stared at the sight of the lone teenage girl on the rooftop of a house surrounded by zombies as more crowded in, aiming her gun carefully, turning in a circular motion as she picked off the creatures one by one. Still they were coming out of the house to join the others, scratching at walls, arms reaching upward as they moaned and snarled. Another shot rang out taking one down, but there were more to go and she was one person against so many... She was so young. And so alone on that roof as the creatures below crowded in...
“Porter!” Rex said urgently, “We should go. I need to request back up, far too many armed suspects...”
Porter turned away from the house in the distance. Rex was now walking on ahead, talking to himself, or any number of imagined characters he saw as he adjusted his top hat, strolling as if it were a summer's day, oblivious to the Autumn chill that hung sharp in the air. And as more shots rang out in the distance, Porter looked back with a heavy heart. There were still miles to go. Time was precious. But in those seconds spared, the sight of that lone girl picking off zombies from the rooftop was one that would stay forever burned into memory.
“I hope she makes it,” Porter murmured, silently cursing who or what ever had created a world that had come to this.
Then they walked on through the clearing, out on to the motorway and then crossed it. Beyond the barrier, the town stretched out. It ran the length of the barrier into the distance, and the only way to avoid it would be to keep walking on the motorway, adding miles to the journey. A crazy thought came to mind:
Fuck it, we can cut straight through it, then we reach the coast...
But at what cost?
One look said it all, the place was heavily infested.
The road was empty but would add miles and cost precious time...
In the distance Porter could see them, undead figures, some staggering, others stumbling, some moving more swiftly, and all in varied states of decay. And all starving. Rex asked the million dollar question.
“What now? Do we cut through town, or take the road?” he asked.
Porter said nothing in reply, still weighing it up. Cutting through the town could add hours or even longer to the journey – assuming they made it out alive. As for the road, they would be walking miles before they found an alternative route to avoid the place completely. It would be nightfall by then... There was no easy or safe choice. No option remained to serve as a simple route. They were stuck. This was what shit creek looked like, and they were well and truly up it without a paddle...
Chapter 6 : Bitten
They started to walk, Porter leading the way. The road was wide and empty. All around nothing could be heard but birds singing in far off trees, their song carried on the light air. The sun was hiding behind cloud as the wind changed direction, bringing with it the moans of the undead, far off in the town beyond the barrier. Porter stopped walking.
“There must be people left in there.”
“Looks like a lovely place to live!” Rex put his hand to his top hat in defiance of the breeze, looking to the town, silent save for the sounds of the undead, clearly retreating back into a reality where he was more comfortable, able to cope, able to shut out the nightmare of a life that had become too much to bear.
Porter walked on slowly, eyeing a section of the barrier far off in the distance. Beyond it, there was a break in the heavily built up area. Maybe it was a road. Perhaps looking through that gap would give some kind of indication how bad that place was – maybe it wasn't as heavily infested as Layla had believed it to be – she had gone no further than the end of the road and had only heard rumours that would have sprang up months back. A lot could change in a few months. If most people had shipped out, it figured the dead wouldn't linger there with no food source. Porter had a theory that this was where many of the hordes came from, wandering on, in search of fresh meat when their food supply ran out. Clearly, there were still some creatures in the town itself, but they wouldn't know how many until they took a look... They would go no further than the gap in the barrier. If what they saw was too risky, they would be forced to walk even further on a journey that would add miles to the destination, and waste precious time. They would also be travelling at night, something that even the open, empty road could hold no assurance with – in the dark, they wouldn't see them coming until it was too late...
