Eight

I waited a long time.  The shots started to fade.  Several times, I caught myself on the verge of dozing off.  The last time, I twitched and knew I had to try, now or never.  I opened my eyes and observed Drav for several minutes.  He had closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall.  He seemed asleep.

Taking my time, I got to my feet.  If he caught me again, I’d say I had to pee.  However, this time, he didn’t move.

Carefully, I made my way down the hallway and to the front door. I looked through the window, scanning the street, then slipped outside.

My nerves stretched tight as I sprinted to the first bit of cover.  Alert for infected, hellhounds, and, possibly, a killer shadow man, I bolted for the next bit of cover.  Sprint by sprint, I made my way south-west, further into the city.  Tracking the shooters wasn’t hard.  They’d left a trail of dead infected bodies.  However, the gun shots attracted more infected to the area, too.

A few times, I thought one spotted me.  However, the infected never ran after me like they had on the road.  The more I saw, the more I began seeing patterns.  They shambled fairly directionless until they heard something. Then they ran toward the sound, but their speed only lasted for short bursts.  So, if one heard me, I would need to quietly out distance it to avoid attracting more.

The gun fire grew louder around lunch, and I spotted the shooter.  He stood by his truck, which idled at an intersection.  The gun in his hands remained aimed down the road to the left.  Knowing better than to call out, I waved my arms in the air to get his attention.

“There’s a live one out there,” I heard someone else call.  “Ten o’clock.”

Every infected between me and the shooter dropped, one right after another, gunned down before the man by the truck turned toward me.  Movement near a chimney to the right drew my attention, and I looked up at a man dressed in brown and black.  Blonde hair stuck out from his black beanie.

“I’ve got you,” he called.  “Get to the truck.”

I didn’t need to be told twice.  I sprinted toward the truck, my shoes thumping against the blacktop. The shooter on the ground, dressed in the same black and brown clothing as the man on the roof, waved me past.  A single shot rang out behind me.

I opened the back door of the huge pickup truck and climbed in. Behind the wheel sat a third man dressed similarly to the other two.  I quickly shut the door as he scanned the area around the truck.

“Hey,” I said, a little winded from the mad dash.

He continued to ignore me.  I anxiously glanced out the window and tried to calm my racing heart.

No more pops sounded in the distance. Nervous, elated energy buzzed in my veins. Finding more humans, alive ones, was huge. They had guns and appeared military.  I started to relax in my seat. I’d done it.  I’d made it.  I wanted to grin.

Static crackled from a hand radio before a voice came through.

“Jack’s down from the roof. He said he spotted one of the big grey ones in the distance.”

My grin faded.  Images of the last time I rode in a truck flashed through my head.  No, I thought.  Not again.  I frantically looked out the windows as the driver pulled the radio from the cup-holder.

“Got it,” he said into the radio.  “Girl is in the truck. Get your asses back here.”

The door opened to my left, and I scooted over the bench as the man from the ground climbed in the back with me.

“Where did you come from?” he asked.

“Tulsa. I was at school.”

His eyes swept over me as Jack, the blonde man from the roof, climbed into the front seat.

“Moving out,” the driver called as he put the vehicle into gear.  The engine revved as the truck started forward in a rush.  Jack laughed, twisted around, and offered his hand over the seat.

“You surprised me,” he said.  “Very nice to meet you, ma’am.”

I gave him a weak smile and shook his hand.  After I released it, he turned forward and rolled his window down, his gun ready.  The truck began picking up speed, but not enough.  I knew how fast the shadow men could run.  I looked out the back window, my gaze searching.

“What’s your name, girl?” the man beside me asked.  I met his tired brown gaze and noted the subtle wrinkles around his eyes.

“Mya.”

“I’m Charles, that’s Bill driving, and Jack up front.”

“What were you saying about a big grey one?”

“Damn demons that control the hellhounds,” Bill said from the front.

“What?”  Hellhound-controlling demons?  My stomach lurched.

“Wait until you see one.  Then you’ll know.  Hell’s rising, kid.”

The image of Drav fighting off the hellhounds flashed through my mind. He certainly didn’t control those hounds. They had attacked us. And he protected me from them.  Did it really matter?  I was finally in a moving vehicle in my home city.

I opened my mouth to ask more questions when a boom from Jack’s gun filled the cab. I slammed my hands over my ears and turned in my seat to look out the window. Another infected started an all-out sprint toward us.

Jack fired again. I flinched as the bullet tore through the infected man’s chest and knocked him backwards. Instead of going down, he still kept coming. Jack took another two shots, the last finally going through the infected’s head. I cringed as he crumbled to the ground.

“First time seeing one die?” Charles asked quietly.

He held his gun steadily out the window, too. I had no experience with guns but still wished I had my own.

I slowly shook my head to answer his question. No matter how many I saw die, I doubted I’d ever forget the infected had once been a person.

“What happened here?  My phone doesn’t work,” I said, pulling it from my back pocket.

“Don’t bother,” he said as I checked for new messages.  “We’ve lost communications.  First, the tremors, then communications, then the hounds. Most folks were in their houses for the night when the first wave of mutts came through the city.  They didn’t know what was happening out on the streets.”

“What was happening?” I asked, even though I had a fairly good idea.

“Those hounds attacked anything that was out.  Some people they killed.  Some they bit then moved on. Alive or dead, didn’t matter. The people bitten all got sick, and the sickness spread like wildfire throughout the night. Tinker started to mobilize an evacuation effort around two,” Charles said, referring to the military base in Oklahoma City.  “But, people didn’t understand what was going on.  As soon as they left their houses, they came into contact with neighbors, friends, and family that had been infected. One bite and they were done for.”

Jack fired another shot, and a shudder ran through me.  Would my family have tried to leave?  Would I find them shambling around our neighborhood?

“What happened then?”

“We helped get as many uninfected civilians as we could back to base.  They started flying out survivors to a fenced in location further north.”

“Why are you guys still here?” I asked.

“This is home. We’re not giving up on it.  While we gather supplies and search for stragglers like you, we’re clearing the infected.  If we could manage to kill the hounds and their masters, we’d get our city back.”

I remembered the way the hellhound had kept going even after being shot at the stadium.

“Have you killed any?”

“Hounds?”

I nodded.

“Not sure.  They take off when we put a few rounds in them.  I’m hoping that means they die somewhere.”

“Those grey bastards are a different story,” Jack said without taking his eyes from the passing houses.

“Why?”

“You don’t see them,” Charles said.  “They are shadows that leave bodies behind.  We only know they exist because we caught two on surveillance.  Looked like a couple big men at first. The footage was blurry.  We watched them take down seven armed soldiers.  Shots were fired but never seemed to hit either one.  We thought it was the shadows making their skin grey but learned the truth when one faced the direction of the camera.  Its eyes weren’t human.”

No, Drav’s eyes were far from human.  And it terrified me that there were more of them out there.

“So it’s just the three of you out looking for survivors?”

Jack laughed from up front.

“We’re one of many units,” he said, giving me hope. “After Tinker mobilized, we lost more than half.  But we’re still here.”

The truck stayed quiet for a moment except for the dull roar of the engine and random bangs from the gun.

“Have you found anyone else?” I asked hopefully.  “I’m looking for my family.”

“You’re the first we’ve run into. We have been out since dawn.  But we were double-checking an area already evaced.  Where did you live?”

The past-tense way he said it made my stomach cramp.

“Blueridge.  North-west side,” I said.

“We’ll make sure someone goes out that way to check for signs of life today.”

“What do you mean signs of life?”

“People hang sheets outside windows or doors. Some have painted help in their windows. Makes it easier for us to find them and, hopefully, get them to safety,” Charles explained.

“Can’t we check my neighborhood now?”

“We have orders to go further into the city for supplies,” Charles said.

“Roll them up,” Bill said from the front as he slowed for a turn.

“Did you really just use your blinker?” Jack asked, pulling his gun in and rolled up his window.

“Shut up.”

Jack laughed, and I glanced at Charles who’d pulled his gun in, too, and frowned.

“Why are we rolling up the windows?”

“We’re taking the highway,” Jack said.  “Splatter control.” 

As soon as we turned again, I saw the highway ahead.  In the distance, infected shambled along the road.

“Why are there so many?”

“Failed attempt at a ground-evac.”

“Here we go,” Bill said, taking the ramp.

Bill’s hands tightened on the wheel, and the engine roared to life as he pressed down on the gas. The roar announced our location to the infected. They came running at the truck. My stomach knotted. Bill aimed right for them. Half of one’s body flew over the truck. More came at us like a swarm of gnats.  Bill plowed through them all.  I shut my eyes unable to erase the image of the blood that spattered the windshield.

The squeak of the window-wipers sounded then finally stopped.

“We clean up more of them every run,” Charles said.

Slowly, I opened my eyes.

Jack leaned over in his seat and turned the volume nob up on the radio. Only static crackled out. He switched over to the tune nob, and twisted it around. A high-pitched screech emitted from a station that should have been playing rock. After Jack tried a couple more stations, Bill reached over and turned the radio button off.

“Has there been any news of what’s happening anywhere else?” I asked.

“No. The last I heard, Europe had gone dark just after the local news stations reported sightings of those demonic hounds.”

Yesterday afternoon.  It had only been that long since the first tremor, since Germany fell with the same sickness. Yet it felt like I had lived a hundred years in those few hours.

I looked out the window at the quiet neighborhoods and occasional infected as we continued down the highway.

After taking an exit, the number of zombies thinned for a while.  However, the closer we got to downtown, the more they came out.  Jack and Charles shot out their open windows as Bill drove. The shots didn’t deter any away from us.  Instead, it did the opposite. More started to filter out, beckoned by the noise, and I began to rethink my itch to possess a gun of my own.

It wasn’t much longer until we arrived at a shopping district.

“Bill, you keep the path between the truck and the store clear,” Charles said. “The rest of us are going for the food and water. Take carts.  Get everything you can.”

“Me?” I didn’t want to leave the safety of the truck.

“These supplies are going with you to the survivor camp.  You want to eat, don’t you?”

I nodded.

“We’ll keep you safe.  Just grab a cart and get as many canned and dry goods as you can.  Use the radios. I want to be gone in fifteen.”

Bill drove the truck around the back of a supermarket and killed the engine. The infected that had chased us slowed to a confused shamble in the quiet.  We sat in the truck for twenty minutes, watching and waiting for the infected to slowly disperse.

Charles called all clear, and we went to the employee entrance, where Jack picked the lock.

“Quieter this way,” he said softly when he caught me watching.

As soon as the door opened, Jack lifted his gun and stepped inside.  Someone had left the lights on in the back room.  Pallets of boxes sat just inside the large delivery doors to our right.

I pointed, but Charles shook his head.

“Too big.”

Charles nodded toward the swinging door that led to the main shopping area.  Jack checked the window then eased the door open.  I slowly followed him through.  Everything seemed quietly undisturbed.  Charles motioned for us to stay.  My stomach churned as I watched him walk away and disappear around the corner of an aisle.

A few minutes later, a couple of pops echoed through the store, and I jumped.

“Store cleared,” Charles said softly over the radio.

Jack jerked his head to the left then started moving. I followed him to the front of the store.  The instant scratch off machine had been pushed in front of the door.  Bits of glass covered the floor around it.

“Hellhounds,” Jack said softly.

“Here?” I asked, my panic going through the roof.

He shook his head.  “Here and gone again.  They move fast.”

Exactly why I didn’t want to be in a building with them.

“Get a cart,” he said, holstering his gun.  We each grabbed a cart and started for the shelves.  Another few pops echoed, but from outside.

“Took out two infected. Keep your eyes open,” Bill said over the radio.

Jack went ahead of me and started sweeping the nearest shelf of the nonperishable foods. We filled both carts and went to the water aisle next.  Jack grabbed an abandoned cart and started loading the gallon jugs.

Another pop sounded from outside.

“Head back to the car now,” Bill barked over the radio. Jack grabbed the food cart and hustled for the employee door.

“Grey one headed right for us. Get out, now.”

“Shit.”  Jack spun around.

“What do we do?” I panted.

“Get out before it gets here.  Leave the cart.”

He grabbed my arm and started running toward the back.  I struggled to keep up. Fear solidified in my stomach.

“Bill left the keys in the truck.  Get it started.  I’m almost there,” Charles said through the radio.

We had nearly reached the employee entrance when a scream ripped through the air.  I faltered, but Jack didn’t pause in his running.  He pulled me through the exit. I stumbled, blinded by the sudden sunlight.

Jack kept pulling me, and I squinted as I followed after him. The truck waited, only steps away.

Suddenly Jack’s hand left my arm.  I blinked, looking around in confusion.

When I turned a full circle, I saw Jack’s body slumped against the truck, his neck bent unnaturally. Standing over him was a very pissed off Drav.