Tim Meyer - Less Than Human

Ben and Josh exchanged glances. Ben’s ribs ached like hell. Josh needed a fix. Ross held Landry in front of him, resting his chin on the top of his son’s head. Paul Scott sat in the corner, looking at the Three Little Pigs with contempt, his mind running through the scenarios where he killed all three of them and escaped. Delusions, nothing more. The old dude in the cowboy hat, Bob, rested against the barn door, chewing his own tongue, wishing it was tobacco. Emily latched onto Brit, whimpering softly, hoping no one would notice how scared she was. Victoria stood behind her daughters, tears glistening on her face in the dim light the morning sun provided.

“Here’s the deal-e-o. Ya’ll gonna run, and we gonna chase you,” Otis said.

The Barker family cheered.

“You can’t do this,” Victoria pleaded.

“We can, and we will,” Otis said firmly.

“Look,” Ben said. “The woman I called. She lives near Pittsburgh. She said the government is going to blow everything east of Philly completely off the map. New York, Newark. Trenton. Philly. Boston. Baltimore. All the major cities on the East Coast are completely, one-hundred percent fucked. The government knows there’s nothing that can be done. So instead of infecting the rest of the country, they’re going to blow it all to hell.”

Otis smirked, laughing through his nose. He glanced at his family.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not. Otis, I swear that’s what she said. I didn’t get to finish my conversation with her, but it sounds like we don’t have a lot of time. It could happen at any point.”

Otis shrugged. “Well, I guess if that’s the case, then we fucked anyway. Might as well have some fun, right?”

“Otis, please—”

Bobbi-Jo stepped forward and punched Ben in the gut. He dropped to his knees. She grabbed his cheeks, hard. She steered his head so their eyes could meet. “I can’t wait to watch you die,” she grunted, then spat in his face.

The Three Little Pigs exploded into laughter. Momma Barker bent over while slapping her knee, finding her daughter’s actions hilarious.

Ben didn’t find it funny. Neither did the rest of them.

“We pros at this sheet. Guess now would be a good time to tell ya’ll that no one has ever made it longer than twenty minutes. And that means…” Otis said, gleaming at them as Cooter and Floyd pushed open the barn doors, letting the smell of the dead in, “…that no one’s ever survived.”

Bobbi-Jo kicked Ben out of the barn. He tripped and fell, mud splashing against his face. He glanced up, finding himself inside a corral. There were no horses, at least none he could see. Behind him, Josh was being booted out, tossed into the playing field. The rest of the group was being lined up, ready to be released into the arena.

“Ya’ll get a five minute head start,” Otis said. “Then we comin’.”

Victoria was next. Bobbi-Jo pushed her. She fell to her knees, next to Ben. It was Brit’s turn next and before Bobbi-Jo could give her the same treatment, Floyd grabbed her wrist.

“Dis one and the blondie are too precious to waste. I reckon we can find better uses for them.” Floyd licked his lips, gleaming at Brit as if she were a glazed-ham dinner. Brit’s face contorted. She nearly gagged.

Bobbi-Jo glanced at Otis for approval.

“Fine,” Otis said. “Put them off to the side. We goan have ourselves a little fuckfest when we get back.”

Victoria overheard them and went ballistic. She scrambled to her feet, trying to run back into the barn, swinging her fists and screaming at the top of her lungs. Ben hadn’t noticed any walkers in the area, but if there had been any nearby, they’d be on their way. Before Victoria could grab hold of her daughter, Otis knocked her in the head with the butt of his shotgun. The blow took her feet out from under her. Victoria hit the muddy ground hard. Ben crawled over to her to make sure she was okay. Her pupils rolled behind her fluttering eyelids.

“Stay with me, Vic,” Ben whispered.

Ben looked back into the barn trying to gauge what was happening. He saw Cooter prying Emily away from Bob the Cowboy. Once he had the two separated, Cooter socked Bob in the jaw, then tossed him out of the barn like a rowdy drunk. Bob tumbled across the earthy floor, losing his hat in the process. They gently shoved Tabby and Anthony into the arena. Next came Paul Scott, who didn’t fuss. Ross and Landry were the last ones to enter and they, too, went willingly.

The barn doors closed slowly. Ben watched the wet faces of Emily and Brittany disappear behind them.

Behind the trees, dawn illuminated the horizon.

“Wake up,” Ben said to Victoria, gently slapping her face.

Her eyes fluttered briefly before opening wide. She gasped for air, as if breathing were a foreign concept. She grabbed Ben’s shoulders as she calmly let her lungs fill up with the sweet country air.

“Don’t tell me…” she muttered, tears clinging to the corners of her eyes. She did nothing to stop them from falling. “Please… God…”

“We’ll get your girls back, Vic,” Ben said. “I promise.”

“I think we should get going,” Ross said. “I can smell the dead. They’re not too far away.”

“Me too,” Paul Scott said. “Maybe we can find somewhere to hold up,” he suggested.

“What’s the point?” Bob the Cowboy said, putting his hat back on. “It’s only going to delay the inevitable.” He shook his head. “You heard the sumbitch. Ain’t nobody ever lasted longer than twenty minutes.”

“So what do we do?” Ross asked. “Wait to die?” He shook his head furiously, brow furrowing. “Uh-uh. No way. I’m not going down like that.”

“Well, I’m staying here,” Bob the Cowboy stated. “Ya’ll can go run off and get eaten by zombies, that’s fine by me. But I’m waiting for those sumbitches right here. And they gonna put me down honorably.” He made his hand into a gun and pressed his pointer finger against his temple, then lowered his thumb. “I ain’t gonna be a pawn in their little game.”

“Look. We should spread out,” Josh said.

“What?” Ben stared at Josh wearily. “No, we stay together.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea. If we want to be slaughtered simultaneously.” Josh paced around them. “We break off into small groups. We’ll be able to hide better and they’ll be easier to overtake separated.”

“What if they hunt together?” Ross asked. “Like in a pack?”

Josh looked at him. “That’s why we gotta spread out.”

Ben helped Victoria to her feet. “Okay. Let’s break off into groups of three. Josh, you’re with me and Victoria. Ross, you and your son go with Bob.”

“Told ya’ll. I ain’t going anywhere.”

“Fine. Then Ross and Landry go with Tabby and Anthony. Paul, you’re with us. That’s two groups of four. Good?”

“It’s better than one group of eight,” Josh said.

“Ya’ll are running out of time,” Bob the Cowboy said. “According to my watch, you only have a minute left on that head start.”

The paint-chipped barn doors opened. Bob the Cowboy watched three figures emerge from the shadows within, garbed in full hunting gear. Their faces were covered by handkerchiefs. They wore big orange wool hats, which would’ve been appropriate in the winter months, but seemed odd in the month of June. The fattest of bunch carried a shotgun. Bob assumed that was Otis, the leader. The other fat one was carrying a crossbow. The skinnier of the three was holding a high-powered rifle across his chest. Bob paid particular attention to the scope on the barrel. These boys sure ain’t fuckin’ around, he thought.

“Didn’t you get the memo, old man? We was givin’ ya’ll a head start,” the fat one in the middle said.