Patrick D'Orazio - Coming the Dark

His eyes never left the growing crowds that were about to merge on the street behind them. He gunned the engine to sixty. It amazed him that bodies were still pouring out the schools.

“Jeff…JEFF! Look out!” Megan screamed in his ear. He swung his head back around and swallowed hard as he slammed on the brakes.

The military had not only built a wall back up the road, they had built one here as well, at the edge of the school campus. Neither Jeff nor Megan had seen it when they had stopped and were too busy gawking at the crowds behind them to notice until they were almost on top of it. This wall was different than the other one. There were no concrete barriers or razor wire this time, just a row of trucks stretching across the road and into the grass on both sides.

The anti-lock brakes on the van kicked in, and they ground to a halt short of the wall. Jeff quickly turned the vehicle around to face the oncoming horde.

Megan looked behind them at the assortment of big rigs and military troop transports that had been cobbled together to form the barricade. Looking closer, she could see wire peeking out from the various openings and nooks that might allow someone to sneak through. She quickly realized that much of it had already been pushed out of the way, and there was movement on the other side of the vehicles. As she looked, several hands peeked through, grabbing for purchase as they pulled and scratched their way over and under the mechanical fortification.

“We’re going to have company behind us pretty soon.”

Jeff ignored the comment and focused on what was in front of them: the schools, the jammed parking lots, and the wooded areas beyond. The van was no four-by-four and would not make it off road. Heading back the way they had come was becoming less of an option every second. A line of infected was strung from one side of the road to the other, three deep at the weakest points and thicker in most places. There were a few gaps, but nothing they could plow through.

There were hundreds of them, and more were coming. They crept over and around the trucks behind them, and the buildings ahead kept dispensing an endless supply of corpses. The infected were everywhere.

Gritting his teeth, Jeff turned to Megan. She was afraid but looked composed, surprisingly enough. Her semi-calm state helped him stay cool as he spoke.

“I think we have one chance. It’s not a good one, but…”

Megan nodded, ready for him to get on with it. She looked at the slowly advancing army and reached for her revolver. Gripping it tightly, she stared ahead.

Looking out into the crowd of rabid faces, Megan locked onto one. It stood out as different in the sea of gray, green, and black rot that covered most of them. It had been an adult, probably a man, although most of its hair had been ripped away-along with its scalp-and gave no hint as to its gender. Its clothing, a shredded t-shirt and what were probably blue jeans that had been split up the seams, also gave no clues. There were no breasts, but the stomach was swollen, filled with corrupt fluid and undigested meat. What stood out about this one, what had made her zero in on it, was the face. It was purple. It was not bloated, and the damage was minimal. Both eyes remained, set deep within a sea of violet flesh that drooped but still retained the shape of a human visage. They were pig eyes. The purple wasn’t just old dead veins showing through the skin filled with drying blood; it was as if the ghoul had been dipped in dye. Megan hadn’t seen a stiff quite that hue before. She gripped the gun tighter when she realized that it was staring back at her.

Jeff floored the minivan and turned the wheel sharply to the right, heading for the wide parking lot that the junior high and elementary schools shared. Between the two buildings was a massive glut of ghouls, and behind them, a small road running between the buildings. He swiftly dismissed the idea of trying to get past the crowd and down the road when he saw a logjam of more vehicles there that would prevent their escape.

“Hang on; this might get a little rough.”

Megan braced herself; the van dipped down and rose back up as they traversed the shallow ditch at the edge of the parking lot. She shifted the revolver to her left hand and gripped the handle above her door. They avoided the paved entrance to the lot, which was crowded with bodies. The van went airborne for a split second and landed roughly on the pavement.

Megan closed her eyes and cringed as several bodies bounced off the bumper. As the fat rear end of the Odyssey swung sideways, she heard more bodies being knocked over behind them. Jeff floored it again, spinning the wheel frantically left and right, trying to avoid the larger pockets of rotters. He moved in close to the junior high and, at the last moment, turned sharply to the left, weaving around like he was on an obstacle course. More and more thuds were heard as the infected bounced off the van in rapid succession.

Jeff gripped the wheel like he was strangling it, refusing to let it direct him, which it seemed desperate to do as the front wheels hit more and more bodies and were forced to turn in directions other than that in which he wanted to go. His foot hit the gas and brake in rapid succession, slaloming around the human pylons he was trying to avoid.

They worked their way across the parking lot toward the church, and Jeff set his sights on the road. They had to try to return the way they had come. It was the only reasonably clear path remaining. The crowd heaved and quivered like a single entity and refused to grant the leeway they needed.

Jeff hit the brakes. A moving fortification of bodies was closing in from the front and sides. He looked in the rearview mirror, hoping he could throw the minivan in reverse. Seeing it was even worse behind them, he knew going forward was their only option. The bodies were several deep up front, but he knew that if he could gun the engine and build up some speed, the van might be able to break through.

That was when he saw the others: the crowd that had been following the van from the intersection, the ones they had left behind not so long ago. The newcomers were getting closer and blending in with the infected from the schools, creating an impenetrable wall of rotten meat in front of them.

A whimper escaped Jeff’s throat. He had forgotten all about them. The horrid parade of infected streamed down the road, swelling the ranks of the horde. In no time, they would overwhelm the van and crush it with their sheer volume. There was no place left to go.

“I’m so sorry.”

Jeff couldn’t look at Megan. A cacophony of moans surrounded them, rising in pitch and increasing in volume by the millisecond. The ghouls would be on top of the van in moments.

“I am so sorry, Megan…so, so, sorry.”

He felt her finger sliding under his chin, raising it up. Jeff tried to avert his eyes, but Megan moved his face toward hers. He felt her lips, cool and dry, on his cheek.

He opened his red-tinged eyes. They were bloodshot, tired, and sunken. He had nothing left to offer, but Megan was smiling at him. She looked calm, almost serene.

Even as she touched his face with her hands, she retained her grip on the gun. She shook her head to quiet Jeff. “This isn’t your fault. None of it is.” She touched his forehead with hers, and they huddled together, the gun cold and rigid against Jeff’s cheek, a contradiction to the warm and human touch of Megan’s hands. They looked at one another and realized that there was nothing left to say. All that mattered was that they were together.

The pounding on the van began, and the vehicle rocked beneath the blows. The moans were overwhelming. The two survivors embraced one last time, Jeff nodding when Megan slipped the gun down between them. She held it and waited.