S. Davis - 900 Miles

Before we knew it, there were a dozen of them filling the parking lot. One of the rotting bastards still wore his forest ranger hat and sported the familiar, but bloodied, light brown t-shirt and dark brown shorts. He was dragging his leg behind him as if it has been crippled at some point.

Another few were still wearing their backpacks, which had pots and pans dangling from the bottom by what looked like carabiners that glistened in the reflection of the fire. One of the campers was missing an arm, and the other had a hole blown through its chest. I found myself wondering if they’d turned on each other while alive. Poor bastards probably came here trying to find refuge as the world turned to shit… that, or they were enjoying a nice trip when all hell broke loose.

As the stench of the horde hit us, I recalled the office building I’d worked in prior to Z-Day. The memory of that putrid smell. It floated through the halls each time some poor soul would build up enough courage to clean out the building’s communal fridge. A smell ripe with rotting sandwiches and mold-covered yogurt, left over from a wasteful set of fat asses who traded lunch for the quick burst of sugar calling to them from the vending machines.

Even as I write this passage, I’m not quite sure which made me sicker. The horde or that damn fridge.

The fire continued to spread up an enormous tree leaning across the trail. Almost as wide as I am tall, the tree had crooked branches that dwarfed the surrounding forest. I remember thinking that it looked old enough to have heard the world’s first scream. I watched in horrified amazement as the fire leapt from limb to limb, seemingly lighting the clouds on fire.

Glancing over at Kyle, I saw the metal on the shotgun he carried was gleaming, reflecting the madness of the fire’s fury as it took over the hill. He stayed steady, with the shotgun pointed in the direction of where we’d seen the flashlights go out. He was waiting for them to split up, and I knew he only had two rounds to use before having to refill. That meant one man would have the drop on him if we couldn’t time things correctly.

“Shit,” I cursed under my breath once again. Gordon’s bastards just sat there… waiting for what came next. They seemed to sense a trap. Any hope that they’d charge in like Rambo to find us quickly fell to the wayside. I could hear it in my head. HOLD… HOLD. Wait for them to fuck up.

Thinking back to Rodgers, the phrase, patience wins wars, ran through my mind.

There was no movement as both the living and the dead stared at the giant campfire. That is, until I heard a scream.

The sneaky bastards had been distracting us as much as we’d been trying to distract them. Aside from the three men with flashlights, there were another three creeping up behind us. It wasn’t until one of the sons of bitches behind us took a bite to the face that we had any clue they were there.

Unfortunately, for them… the same went for the creatures in the parking lot.

I looked back in time to see one of the men pull his trigger twice. Once for the creature, and once for the man with the bite across his face. Wincing at the shots, I glanced back over my shoulder toward the parking lot. To my horror, every mangled creature out there was looking right in their direction. Kyle was still down in the dirt along with Jarvis while I was busy becoming one with the tree I was hugging. Meanwhile, Gordon’s men repeatedly rang the dinner bell as they fired off shots at anything that moved.

At first, they were more than capable of holding back the slower creatures from the parking lot. The fire was creating enough light for them to aim, braining each of the Zs as they approached. However, before they had time to react, the creatures coming out of the woods behind them made it impossible to control the situation. Totally surrounded, horrified shrieks of pain were all that followed the clicks from the empty weapons once they ran out of ammunition.

Expecting the group with the flashlights to jump in, I was surprised to see that they sat still, hiding from the chaos that was taking place less than fifty yards away. With the flashlights now turned off, they knew we were still out there, and their patience was almost as terrifying as the monsters lurking around looking for their next kill.

The blazing fire tower, now completely engulfed, crashed down, smashing across the roof of the office building. Nothing like breaking a one hundred-year streak.

Smoke was filling my lungs and I was fighting back the urge to cough by holding my forearm across my face. The forest was at full blaze, and we needed to make a move.

Making eye contact with Kyle, I threw my hands up ever so slightly as to say “What now?” He pointed toward the fire, and ran his arm around the tree line that led to Gordon’s men. Then he lifted his gun a bit, and pretended to shoot it.

The fire was spreading around the tree line. With their spot in the woods closer to the blaze, it was only a matter of time before it reached them. I only prayed that the creatures wouldn’t find the three of us before the fire found them.

Looking out across the parking lot and field, I saw that there were more Zs stumbling around now. Their shadows from the fire were elongated across the far side of the forest wall, giving the illusion that they were at least thirty feet tall. Each step they took, amplified through their shadows, showed just how mangled their lifeless bodies were. I could hear the pots clanging together from the back of dead backpackers’ gear. Each step created a small ding that rang through the night sky.

Beyond the clanging cookware, the crackling of the fire was getting louder. Trees and branches were incinerating quicker than I would have ever imagined. I found myself completely amazed at how easy it was to start a forest fire.

Yep, no doubt about it, Smokey the Bear would have been super pissed.

Snapping back from watching the blaze, I realized that the cracks were louder than they should have been. With the fire still across from us, the noise was coming from the woods behind me. Not moving a muscle, with my face still pressed against the tree, I listened as each step broke another set of limbs and dry leaves. Clutching the hammer in my right hand, I fought hard to control my breathing.

It was right behind me, but I had no idea if I’d been seen. It came closer, and I could almost feel its fingernails running down my spine. Another twig snapped under its feet, seemingly inches from where I sat. Thoughts of not moving, playing dead, pretending I wasn’t there, all ran through my mind. In the end, I wasn’t waiting for chance to make the decision as to whether I was going to see my son again.

Patience, John, I thought to myself. The creature needed to be close enough for me to make one swing. I wouldn’t get another chance at this. No noise. No screaming. No alerting the others. Everything depended upon me cracking the skull in one quick move. Everything depended upon me doing this right.

A small bit of cold saliva ran down my neck. That felt close enough.

Gripping the hammer with every bit of strength I had in my fist, I swung around toward the darkness. Connecting squarely with the creature’s chest, I completely missed its head. Clenching my teeth together as it let out a grunt that I’ll never forget, I brought the hammer back down across its skull. Bone fragments shot across the dry leaves, making it sound like someone had thrown a handful of stones into the forest. The creature dropped with a thud across a fallen tree to my right.

Realizing the thing had grunted pretty damn loud, I crossed my fingers as I slowly turned around, only to find three more creatures honing in on my position. This was about to get nasty… and fast.