Three figures materialize in the trees at the closest point. Breaking into the open, they begin sprinting directly toward Trip and me. The zombie peeking around the tree is to my left, the three directly in front and, to my right, I see two other speeders break out of the tree line and run into the fields. It’s a classic, tactical move. The very nature of it and that they are using it gives me the absolute creeps.
Well, that’s not good.
There’s no time to contemplate it further. The three racing toward me are the immediate threat. They aren’t screaming or moaning, just running full tilt. Shifting slightly to orient more directly toward them, I bring my M-4 to my shoulder, center the reticle on the one to the left, flip the selector switch to ‘semi’, and fire.
I select semi because I need headshots and I don’t want the barrel dancing around. Their heads are bouncing and moving, but the distance is close. The subdued sound of a round leaving the barrel rises slightly above the sound of their feet pounding across the ground. The projectile rapidly closes the distance, impacting high upon the first one’s forehead. A splash of dark liquid sprays outward from the forceful connection of bullet and bone.
The speeder’s head rocks backward and it nearly tumbles backward from its continued forward momentum. Recovering with a stumble, it resumes it dash, only to meet up with the second round I sent flying. This one sails through its open mouth, knocking out the lower teeth before hitting the upper palate and rocketing into the brain tissue. Its motor skills suddenly cease and it’s driven to its knees, sliding forward for a foot before falling onto its face.
I quickly shift my aim, targeting the next. My first round bounces off the side of its cheek, taking a large chunk of skin and gouging out a huge crevice. It doesn’t even flinch from the injury but crashes to the ground from the second round entering through the nostrils. The third, seeing its partners go down, veers to the side. It only manages to turn its head slightly before a round takes it just below the temple. It falls so quickly that my second round sails over its head, impacting a tree along the edge of the forest with a solid thunk.
Seeing the three down, I wheel around searching for the other two. I’m thankful their timing is off. They should have attacked along with the other three. My sight takes in Trip, who is crouched behind me and eating a cracker while staring at the woman behind the tree.
“I don’t think she likes you,” he comments, taking another bite of the wafer.
“It’s a good thing I’m not trying to date her, then. Now…could you please move? I’m expecting company from behind,” I state.
“They’re over there.” He points off to the side without even looking. He shifts to the side a couple of feet, all the while not taking his eyes from the woods.
How in the fuck does he do that? I think, not doubting him and orienting in the directing he is pointing.
Sure enough, I hear the sound of someone moving through the grass a couple of seconds later…exactly from the direction Trip indicated. The two speeders that exited from the woods previously emerge from the tall grass on the run.
“You’re a little late,” I mutter.
My sight was almost centered on one of them, so I barely have to move the barrel before firing. Four rounds later, the two join the other three in whatever afterlife zombies have. I turn toward the woman, who is still peeking out from behind the tree. I had expected her to join in on the fun to make it a three-sided game, but this appears to be a spectator sport for her.
I slip my zoom to the 4x setting and her face rushes into more clarity. She has one hand on the side of the trunk while looking around the massive bole. Her eyes are glazed over, but her expression is…what? Thoughtful? It’s also apparent she doesn’t think I’m a good aim. I can’t imagine an intelligent zombie showing only its head. It’s the only vulnerable part, but here she is presenting me with a stationary target. Who knows what is going through that dead mind of hers?
Well, I know what will be in just a second.
I center the small crosshair and pull the trigger. Compensating only a little for the anticipated bullet drop, after all, she’s not that far, but sub-sonic rounds aren’t known for their ability to accurately reach long distances. The carbine bucks slightly, but her head doesn’t entirely leave my field of view. I’m awarded with a spray of dark blood which splashes across the tree trunk. Her head vanishes from view as she falls to the side from her cover. I keep my scope on her, but she doesn’t move.
I rise and cautiously advance toward the barricaded road, wary of any zombies that might still be hidden. Arriving near the military vehicles, near where the woman lies at the edge of the woods, I halt. I don’t move for some time, until it becomes apparent that there isn’t anyone else around. Unlike the roadblock we just left, cars are crammed close to the barricade of the military-style vehicles. However, they are shot up in the same manner as the first one we came across. The vehicles are bullet-ridden with bodies lying in all positions, some draped out of windows, others lying on the pavement or grass. I can’t see what shape they’re in and I’m not really interested in doing so.
The sunlight reflects off spent cartridges that litter the ground, inches deep in places. Gazing out over the plains, I wonder where the people were headed and why the military was trying to stop them. It could have been that the people were just fleeing, but I’m not sure why they would be stopped here. Was the military hiding something, or preventing something? I’ve wondered if the creatures we encountered were brought in with Mike, Trip, and me, or whether there were some here to begin with. Mike certainly seemed acquainted with the zombies, and the night runners are like the ones from my world, so that’s entirely possible. However, something certainly happened here that the people were fleeing.
Without seeing anything that warrants halting any longer, we make the rest of our way to the blockade.
“Yack, you should come here,” Trip stated.
“Did you just call me, Yack?” I ask, exasperated. Trip might have an angel on his shoulder, but he’s a devil to deal with sometimes.
“Why would I do that, Jack?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Is there a reason I should come over there besides you showing me that you found another Twinkie? I’m not sure I could stomach watching you eat another one,” I comment. Even though the wrapper says different, I still think of them as Twinkies.
“There’s FTEs,” Trip says, pulling a heavy cardboard box out of one the Humvee-style vehicles.
“Those look a lot like MREs,” I say, approaching. “It’s not fine dining, but I’m starving.”
“Hey, man, I found them.” Trip declares, shielding the carton.
“It says there’s twenty-four in there. I’m pretty sure not even your endless stomach can handle that much.”
“There’s only eighteen, and I’m pretty hungry.”
I walk over and snatch one of the meals before he has a chance to protest further. He’d probably tear into them and devour them before I could get one otherwise. The only thing left would be a confetti of plastic wrapping drifting slowly down and carried away with the breeze. I hear him snort in derision but ignore him.
“Not cool, man. I already had to share with someone else,” Trip says, pulling out two empty plastic wrappers.
I sit on the side rail of the vehicle and pull out one of my knives to cut into my package. Making a slit in the gray plastic, I scan the area. Seeing one plastic wrapper Trip discarded, I rise to take a look; more out of curiosity than anything else.
“Hey, wait a minute. This one has been opened, and not that long ago,” I state, now alert and looking around for more signs of someone around.