Another line of zombies was coming our way. They were between us and the cars, strung out in a very thin line. The closest was not three feet behind me. She was butt naked.
“Fuck,” I screamed. “Wash!” I dropped the shell I’d been about to load and cocked the shotgun, loading the shell into the chamber. I braced the shotgun on my bad thigh and fired at her. The shot hit her in the throat, taking out most of her neck and spine. The gore flew out behind her and splattered on the next zombie. I cocked another shell in the chamber to take her out but she collapsed to the ground. Her head rolled to a stop at my feet.
A wave of agony rolled through me at the kick back of the shotgun on the goose egg in my thigh. I bit back the scream and gained my feet. Fired at the zombie behind the naked chick and felled him quickly.
“Wash!” I screamed again. “They’re coming from behind us.”
“I know, dammit!” He yelled back. “But we have a problem up here, too.”
I looked back at the horde in front of us. They must have called in reinforcements as the numbers had swelled back up to near 20. Shit.
The next zombie was no more than three feet from me, arms outstretched and blood-encrusted fingers reaching for me. I brought the shotgun back up to bear and shot him. Tried to, at least. The click of the empty chamber seemed extra loud on the night air. The zombie’s fingers closed around my throat.
Panic welled up in my brain as my breath cut off. The others had no idea what was going on. I could still hear their guns firing from a few feet away. Black spots welled up in my eyes as I held my arms and the shotgun in front of me trying to keep the zombie at bay. I fumbled in my pocket for a shell as the zombie began to squeeze harder. My fingers finally found one, but it skittered away from my touch. Darkness closed in on me and I knew I was only moments away from unconsciousness and then death. And then undeath.
My fingers finally found the shell again and I closed my hand hard around it, bringing it out of my pocket. I gave the zombie a shove with the shotgun, using the last of my breath to give it a little extra oomph. It didn’t release or loosen its grip, but its feet slid back in the mud and gave me a few extra inches to work. I quickly slid the shell into the chamber and did my best to cock the shotgun where it was pressed against my chest.
I didn’t have the time or leverage to brace the gun as I brought the barrel underneath the zombie’s chin. My finger finally found the trigger and I pulled it. The top of the zombie’s head flew off in a spray of blood and bone. His fingers tightened for a second on my throat and then let go and he collapsed backwards onto the ground. I fell back to my knees, wheezing and trying to catch my breath. I reloaded the shotgun as quickly as I could, eyeing the line of zombies coming up.
Suddenly the head of the zombie nearest me burst apart in a spray of blood. I looked over toward the line of cars as I heard the pop pop of a handgun. Rodriguez was coming up the lane holding his gun in one hand and firing at the zombies while pulling the boy behind him with his other hand. The boy could barely keep up and kept slipping in the mud but Rodriguez had his hand in a death grip.
Apparently Rodriguez was a crack shot. Every bullet from his gun took out the head of another zombie. The line of zombies behind me was quickly eliminated. Thank God. I gripped my throat, feeling for any breaks in the skin or any blood but all I felt was what I’m sure would become a nasty looking bruise by the morning. I’d been very lucky that the zombie hadn’t had a hangnail or gotten the chance to take a chomp out of me.
I turned around to see how Washington and Felix were doing and saw them putting the last two zombies down.
We had a break in the action, thankfully. Felix held his hand out to me and I took it, rising to my feet slowly. My breath came to me slowly and the lining of my throat was burning. Felix kept a hold of me once I was standing to make sure that I was okay on my feet.
Washington grabbed me by my other shoulder and stepped in close. “You okay, Duke?”
I nodded at him and whispered, “Yeah, just peachy. Can we get out of here?”
We all turned to look at Rodriguez. He’d stopped just in front of the last car and was reloading his gun. The boy, some young pup on the verge of manhood that I didn’t recognize, was leaning back against the car, hands covering his eyes. From the look of him I’d say that he’d be lucky if he didn’t live the rest of his life in an insane asylum. He whispered something and Rodriguez stopped in the act of pulling a clip from his back pocket.
“What’d you say, boy?”
He spoke a little louder. “Where’s Tamara Rogers? She was right here a few minutes ago. That’s why I stopped crying for help. She was trying to get in the car.”
Tamara? Oh, hell.
Rodriguez looked at the boy with a confused expression on his face. “Who?”
She came out of nowhere, rising out of the dirt behind Rodriguez and the boy. Rodriguez cursed and jumped back, dropping the clip in his hand. The boy was looking at Rodriguez and didn’t see anything. He didn’t have a chance. She reached out and used her long, manicured fingernails to rip his throat open. He collapsed to the ground without a sound, his neck in tatters.
Tamara was looking right at me. She looked just as we’d seen her this morning: beautiful, torn and deadly. Her eyes were locked on my throat. It was like she didn’t see anyone else. She seemed to be walking better than the other zombies had as she took several steps toward me. Rodriguez, God bless his soul, stepped in front of her, brandishing his gun like a club. She didn’t even notice him, digging both her hands into his shirt and simply shoving him away. I don’t know if she was that strong or he was just that much off-balance. He landed next to the boy, who hadn’t yet had the chance to finish dying. The boy was flopping like a fish on the ground with his throat gushing blood.
I brought my shotgun up to my shoulder, sighting for her head. It was so easy. She was just heading in a straight line for me. She was maybe moving a little faster than the others, but she was still a zombie. Still only had eyes for my throat and my meat. I could sense the others bringing their guns to bear next to me. I whispered to them, “No, please. Let me do this.”
I could sense them waiting as I whispered an apology to Tamara. I said it mostly under my breath but I hoped that on some level she was truly there and she could hear me and maybe it gave her some easement from her pain.
I shot her in the face.
She took another shambling step or two toward me and then collapsed forward, her head at my feet. My tears dropped on the hole in the back of her head.
The pop of Rodriguez’s gun filled the air as he re-killed the boy. Tears were streaming down his face, too. For some reason it’s always harder to kill a child.
The Acres were now truly silent.
17.
We made it back to the House without further incident. Maybe it was because we ran like bats out of hell. We no longer cared about being quiet or hunting for the zombies. We only wanted to rest in the last bastion of humanity and wanted to shelter in the light.