S. Davis - 900 Miles

The enemy of my enemy was now my friend—at least for the time being. The odds were too stacked against us. We needed each other to get out of here alive.

I watched the taller of the two boys, who was wearing a red handkerchief around his forehead and a belt of ammunition across his chest, nod back and turn toward the woods with his machine gun.

Teenagers are often plagued with delusions of invincibility. At least, I know I was at that age. Nobody can hurt them, and they’re about as cool in their own mind as they’ll ever be. Mix that with the fact that they know everything, and you have a dangerous combination.

I had the feeling that any thoughts of knowing everything and being invincible left this kid’s mind the day the Zs started to rise. The same day he probably saw his first peer get mangled by the dead.

An image like that will kick start the hell out of adulthood. Everybody grows up much quicker now. Nobody is given the chance to enjoy it.

We’d be working together, trading each step through the blazing forest for the blood of the creatures that were quickly approaching. There was only one chance. We had to make it to the chopper.

The unspoken agreement pulled our two small groups together. Kyle waved his arm at the two boys and they darted over toward us, keeping their eyes fixed on Kyle’s shotgun. No words were exchanged. We knew what had to be done as Kyle threw Jarvis over his shoulder, and we started down the seemingly long path leading back toward the water’s edge.

With the backpack of meds bouncing off my back, every muscle in my body told me to stop. It screamed at me to lie down and rest.

“Keep pushing! We’re almost at the water,” Kyle yelled at me as he realized I was starting to slow.

The two creatures running toward us, completely on fire, helped me jump back to attention. They moved up on Kyle first. Jarvis, still over Kyle’s shoulder, took a wide swing with Kyle’s fence post, knocking both of the melting creatures off their feet. They struggled, trying to get back up, the smell of their burning flesh momentarily filling the air as I leapt over their smoldering bodies like hurdles, and kept moving toward the water.

Don’t look back!… flashed through my mind… Keep moving!

Hitting the trail back at the water’s edge, where we’d initially pulled ourselves out of the lake, Kyle turned back toward our two frenemies.

“The chopper, it’s just past the lake over there, right?” he said, pointing toward where we’d seen it land earlier.

They both paused, unsure of how to respond.

“Yes or no, kid? No time to figure out whether we’re going to kill each other or not!” Kyle barked, prompting the taller of the boys with the ammunition belt across his chest to respond.

“Yes,” Mr. Ammo said timidly, pointing over toward the lights that still glowed from where the helicopter sat.

“Are there men waiting to ambush us?”

Mr. Ammo looked to his friend, then back to Kyle while ever so slightly nodding yes once again.

Kyle shook his head, as I reached a hand up to my face, trying to rub the smoke from my eyes.

Covered in soot, I very quickly managed to dig more black dust into my eyelids, which felt more like sandpaper on the inside than actual skin. Inching toward the water’s edge, hoping to quickly splash them clean, I found myself frozen solid. Through the tears, I could just barely see the tiny seismic splashes that echoed off the nearby bank. It was as if someone was thumping a half-filled cup of milk, and my first instinct was that a bloated Z was floating nearby.

“Holy effing shit! ” I heard one of the boys call out from behind me. Guess they saw it too, and it wasn’t a zombie.

Gazing down the shoreline, I nearly tripped backward as I realized what the source of the waves was. The rhythmic splashes running around the entire lake were caused by something much larger than one monster. The combined footsteps of the dead, marching toward us, were literally shaking the Earth.

The crap in my eyes no longer mattered. Fear pushed me forward as I chased after our little group that had taken off like bats out of hell toward the landing spot.

The horde was audible over the roar of the fire. Their moans, which created one giant whale-like bellow, had my skin crawling as we continued to rush down the trail. Looking over my shoulder toward the loudest point of noise, I could see some Zs dropping into the water across from us. However, the bulk of the horde was still further back.

If this were prehistoric times, I would have thought there was a herd of dinosaurs tearing through the forest. My heart leapt into my chest at the sight of the trees and brush, illuminated by the now clear moonlight, all being pushed down in the horde’s path. This army of the dead was tearing through anything in its way. Trees, fire, water—nothing would be stopping it from overwhelming us in just minutes.

There are bad moments, and then there are moments so epically bad that you’re never quite the same. On a scale of one to ten, one being unicorns jumping out of a pot of gold and ten being ass-raped by a T-Rex… this moment was turning into a twelve.

We were almost at the edge of the tree line that hid the helicopter when I saw that the fire had already spread to the tall dry grass that covered the field. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I nearly vomited it back up as we stepped around the final burning tree to see that the helicopter was covered in Zs, all with flames fuming off of their burning flesh. The chopper appeared to have attempted a takeoff, but had crashed before it could get high enough to escape. It was tipped sideways with all the rotors snapped, and the glass on the front was busted through.

The creatures were pressing their melting bodies against the chopper, tearing apart what was left of the pilot and a few other men. There were enough of them getting eaten alive to tell me that they had indeed stayed back by the chopper… no doubt the final trap to flush us out. Lucky for us, in the end, the only thing they flushed was their lives down the shitter as they were overrun by the creatures who’d gotten there first.

“They tried to take off without us!” Mr. Ammo yelled out, almost surprised to see that they’d attempted to leave him and his friend.

We all stood there, hunched over, trying to figure out what to do next. I watched as Gordon’s boys frantically looked around for any other fallen friends. The smaller of the two boys, who was holding a gun that was clearly too big for his stout frame, was at full alert—ready to blast anything that stepped out of the shadows. He had a shaved head, that giant gun, and a look in his eyes that screamed fear.

Shaking with exhaustion and fueled by terror, I stared out at the sky, watching as the smoke from the forest mixed with the clouds, making it difficult to tell one from the other. The moon was shining, but only barely visible. I was trying to clear my mind, but not a plan in hell was popping into my brain.

We’d rolled the dice, and came up with snake eyes. We all fucking knew it.

Kyle turned toward the group, setting Jarvis down on the ground to rest his back. As the rest of us worked through the various stages of accepting defeat, Kyle stood a little taller, and lifted his shoulders a little higher. Looking at the chopper, then back at us, I could see something in his eyes, and it wasn’t surrender.

“We’re heading there,” he said as he carefully pointed toward the woods with the least flames.

“But that’s back where the horde is,” Mr. Ammo said.

“Then stay here!” Kyle fired back.

Mr. Ammo and his shorter friend stood dumbfounded.

Kyle dug the butt of his rifle into the dirt below him, glaring at us as he belted out, “We are going to survive! We are not going to die like this! It’s time to ask yourself one thing. Do you got the stones to keep going?”