I was holding out my ID when the first soldier turned toward my voice. He moved fast, but in an odd, uncoordinated way. I saw his eyes first, and almost dropped my identification card as I recoiled in horror. His face was slack, like he had had a stroke. His eyes were dilated, the pupils almost the size of his irises, and they were blood red. His skin color was just wrong. A dull greenish color clung to it like he was illuminated by a Christmas tree light. He didn’t exactly glow; it was more of a tint that emanated from every inch of exposed skin.
He snarled at me; his lips drew back, and his teeth were jagged points. I reached for my shotgun, knowing there was no way to get it up in time before the freak shot me with the M-16 he was carrying.
His partner raised his hand and hooted into the air, then stumbled toward me. A cry to my left pulled my attention to the tree line surrounding the roadblock. From out of the thick trees and shrubs, a veritable army of demons poured forth. They had the same greenish tinge to the skin and were in a mish mash of clothes. There were more soldiers but also civilians—both men and women. Had the virus turned them into this monstrous form? If so, it was a far cry from the zombies I saw four months ago.
One raised his gun, but it was unsteady in his hand, as if he were not familiar with the weapon. He aimed it toward me, but his shaky grip almost blew it out of his hand when he pulled the trigger. He staggered back, and bullets stitched the air over my head. I hauled the shotgun up into my lap, chambered a round by pumping the action, and aimed it at the guy. I started to back away, but he didn’t seem to get the message that I was planning to put a hole in him if he didn’t stop aiming the gun at me.
I slammed the car into reverse and hit the gas, but a flood of them were on the way and didn’t look too interested in talking about the plague.
“Ah fuck it!” I yelled, extended the gun barrel, and blew the first soldier back into the barricade. It was flimsy and reminded me of the one I put up at the cabin. Dear God, why did I leave the cabin? I could have made it at least a few more months if I stuck with the hunting.
I jacked the pump and grimaced when my hearing went away. The noise of the shot had been like a cannon in the small space, but I shoved aside the instinct to worry about it and aimed for the barrier as I put the car into drive. The things were an army behind me. I didn’t stand a chance of plowing through them, because they were six or seven deep, and they looked like hell itself had opened up and spit them out.
I fired again, and the gun leapt in my hand. I missed the wooden slats by a mile. Just plowed through them and the other soldier who was standing in front trying to bring his gun up. His mouth opened up in a big O that might have been a scream when my bumper slammed into his midsection, tossing him face first onto the hood of my little SUV. His body made a pretty good cushion as I barreled through the barrier. When I hit it, the thing splintered like balsa wood. The guy clutched at the hood, so I hit my brakes, and his forward momentum kept him going right on over the car and onto the ground. Then a bump as I passed over him.
Gunfire behind me, and I hit the gas to get away. I had to swerve to avoid a pair of gutted cars that lay rusting in the road behind the tiny barricade. Then I was past, and the army of howling creatures was behind me. I kept my focus pinned to the rearview mirror as I accelerated away, which almost cost me my car. I was so fixated on the ones behind me that I missed out on the ones ahead. They were also pouring out of storefronts on either side, flooding the street with fresh bodies. Some howled when they saw me, while other shambled aimlessly.
I had to slam on my brakes or risk barreling into them. I rolled up my window and hit my horn over and over, hand pressing hard against the plastic device. Sweat made me slip off it, but not for long. They crowded in, and I had to drive into the mass. I pushed them aside with the car, but a couple climbed onto the top. I wanted to punch the gas, but I could tell these weren’t the same things I had seen before making my escape from the city.
They looked like regular people, more or less, just hungry. I pushed forward with the car, punching the gas as I tried to swerve through the mass. A pair of them came out with bars, and one smashed my rear door window and started to climb in. They both had glowing green eyes that made me want to bite my tongue in half.
That was the last straw. I tried to play nice and treat the people with some respect regardless of the fact that they were screaming for my blood, but that was obviously the wrong tactic. So I floored it and grimaced as the car thumped over several of them. The guy who was trying to get in had on an old helmet that looked like it was straight out of World War II. He howled, and when I turned to look at him, his mouth was a jagged horror of broken teeth. His parched tongue hung out, but no words came out of his mouth. I maneuvered the gun around the front seat, leveled it at the guy, and pulled the trigger. One-handed, the shotgun was heavy, and it was a struggle to raise it while steering the car to level it at the crazy man. My hearing had been coming back, but was still a dull buzz that made my teeth ache. The gunshot was so loud in the car that it took it away again before I could hear the end of the retort.
The smaller load was great at a distance, but up close it turned the guy’s head inside out. He flopped out of the car, and the pursuers fell on the body like scavenging birds coming across a fresh kill in the desert. That gave me an idea. I rolled the car forward and avoided a stuck car that was completely stripped. I rolled down the window on my side and smashed one of the followers in the face. This time, an overweight woman in a faded sundress that looked like she should be freezing in it. She fell back, so I hit the gas a little more to get some momentum, then stood up in the car and fired a shot at one of the things.
Then I dropped another after pumping a round in. They fell on the fresh kills like they were starving. This gave me some room, so I floored it and leapt away from the pursuers.
My hands were shaking on the steering wheel like I’d just bench pressed a couple of hundred pounds. I couldn’t control them. My breath was fast and ragged, and it took an effort to slow it down. I didn’t want to hyperventilate; I was already feeling lightheaded from the fight.
I needed to find a way back to the main street and get back to the cabin. I’d be damned if I was going to stay stuck in this town with those howling things. I could always hit the convenience store I passed earlier and raid whatever was left of their food.
I started to take a left onto a side street that would lead back to my house. I was here, and it seemed worthwhile to retrieve all of the things I had hidden in the space under the house. I could also gather up any canned goods and add those to my hoard.
I also wanted to check on my neighbors, particularly Devon and his wife. Maybe they were okay and holed up. Maybe they had banded together with some of the others on my block. Maybe they were with the screaming horde I had just fled.
It was looking like I had lost them when they poured into the street again. There were hundreds this time, and they were coming from the trees along the secondary road. I hit the brakes and spun around in a circle then zipped back to highway 322. I could always find another way to get to the old house later on.
When I came up on the main drag, a group of them was busy pushing cars into my path. I spun the wheel to the left, hard, and took to the sidewalk, mowing down several in the process. They thumped off the hood of the car, and one left a trail of blood on the already red hood. Crimson waves of it seemed to smash down on me, as I thought of the end I was facing. I couldn’t imagine what these people wanted, nor did I care to stick around and find out.