Gregory Norris - Down with the Fallen - A Post-Apocalyptic Horror Anthology

At night, however, they seemed more comfortable, their attacks more accurate. In the day they staggered around in larger groups or even crowds whereas under the cover of darkness, they split off into smaller packs.

It interested me to watch them. I suppose it would be easy to say that during the day they were the stereotypical bumbling zombie we have all watched in films and TV series. The sheer quantity that gathered together made them a bigger threat. At night, though, they moved with animalistic poise and purpose. They became sleeker, faster and more like a hungry animal hunting and stalking through the streets.

At night they moved faster, and their hearing seemed attuned to the slightest of sound. They seemed most at home in the darkness. Of course, being gathered in smaller groups made them easier to circumnavigate but their heightened senses made them all the more deadly.

Although there were only six now between me and the marina, I knew that I was putting myself in an almost impossible situation.

Readying myself, I pulled a knife from my waistband and prepared to move.

As I went to step around the corner, something grasped my arm and pulled me back roughly.

My heart sank and as I sliced the knife through the air, my other hand was caught mid-swing.

Instead of a face of torn flesh and blood, I was confronted with a survivor . A human face stained with dirt and grime stared at me with wide frenzied eyes.

“Please,” she pleaded, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

Immediately I relaxed my arm, and she released her shaking grip on my wrist. I dropped the knife to my side and looked down at her.

She was young, too young to be alone in this new world. Matted black hair was tied in a rough ponytail, and her clothes looked two sizes too big.

“I need your help,” she began, but I silenced her with a hard stare and indicated around the corner to the stalking monsters.

Before I dared to speak, I chanced another glance around the corner.

We had gone unnoticed. They were still focused on the shattered wooden crate in the middle of the courtyard, most with their backs to where we now stood.

I watched for a handful of seconds before turning my attention back to the young girl.

“Who are you?” I hissed through gritted teeth. Everything about this situation was making me feel exposed and vulnerable.

“My name is Cassy, I’ve seen you watching this place and need someone to help me. I’ve got nothing, and I don’t want to die.”

“How have you survived this long?”

I was dubious.

That’s how much this world changes you. Before all this happened, I would have done anything to help someone in need. Now, in the face of impending death, it was a matter of staying alive. I hadn’t made it this far by giving lifts to strangers or offering help to those who also fought for survival.

“I was hiding in my school,” she pointed to the old high school across the street from where we stood.

That confirmed my suspicions. Cassy must have been no older than sixteen, but of course, she had aged in the days since the outbreak. The dirt and grime did nothing to compliment her and while I expected she had no doubt been a teenage heartbreaker, right now she looked weathered and tired.

“Why should I help you?” It sounded harsher than I intended and she looked wounded.

“I can’t make it on my own, and my dad owned a boat in there. If it’s still there, I know where the keys are and how to sail it.”

I knew that would be more useful than blindly trying to locate a vessel to board. The young girl was right, I had never been on a rowboat never mind trying to sail a ship, no matter how modest-sized the boat I managed to get hold of.

“I’m quite capable of sailing myself, thank you.” I tried to sound confident, but her raised eyebrow told me she didn’t believe me.

“You don’t look like a sailor.” She was right on the money.

Time was wasting.

This was survival, albeit not how I had planned but I didn’t have the luxury of turning away now.

Something in me told me she knew that.

“We haven’t got much time,” she pleaded.

She was right, the sound of shuffling feet on tarmac suddenly carried in the air.

Only it wasn’t coming from the courtyard, it was coming from the road behind us instead.

We were trapped.

I pushed her hard against the wall and held her there. Raising a finger to my dry lips, she took the hint and pressed herself hard against the stone.

I knew where the six of them were in the courtyard, I didn’t need to check them again.

My biggest concern was the shuffling sound from the other end of the building.

I moved as silently as I could, walking on my tiptoes back along the wall from where I had come. When I reached the far end of the building, I could see the source of the noise.

This one was a grisly sight. I couldn’t tell if it had once been a man or woman. The body was burned beyond recognition. As it limped across the tarmac, smoke still billowed from its charred flesh. Whatever it was dragged its left leg awkwardly behind it which had been the source of the noise.

White lidless eyes darted around frantically as it staggered and limped toward us.

We had no time, we had to move.

Staying in the shadows, I quickly moved back to Cassy who had not moved from where I left her.

“There’s one coming from that way, I don’t know if there are more, but we need to move.”

She didn’t protest, just nodded.

“Have you got any weapons?” I asked as I reaffirmed my grip on the knife in my hand.

“I have these,” she whispered and withdrew a pair of battered kitchen knives from her bag.

“That’ll do,” and for the first time in days I cracked a smile.

It was time to move.

Little did I know that I was right then walking myself toward my own demise.

I moved first, and Cassy followed. We stayed low as we rounded behind the half-dozen gathered around the crate. I could hear them mumbling, I could almost make out words caused by the random electrical impulses in their dead brains.

The smell became almost unbearable as we moved silently closer to the group that was between us and the perimeter fence of the marina.

I dodged behind a battered car that sat to the side of the nearest zombie. Peering through the dirty glass of the windows, I watched the closest one as it shuffled around as if assessing the contents of the crate.

Suddenly, it stopped.

I saw its body tense and its demeanor changed. Whereas it had seemed relaxed, dead arms swinging lifelessly by its side, it now tensed. The undead woman slowly raised her head upward and in the silence of the night, I could hear her.

She was sniffing the air.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she seemed to taste the air. A swollen and blood-stained tongue poked out from between her torn lips as if tasting something. Slowly her head moved from side to side until finally, something caught her attention.

She rounded in an instant.

Her body lowered, and she looked ready to strike.

Her gaze settled and it was fixed squarely on the car behind which Cassy and I had hidden.

“Stay down,” I hissed and pushed Cassy down. “They know.”

No sooner had the words left my mouth than the undead woman leapt onto the roof of the car, shattering the windows with the impact. Glass rained down on us, and Cassy squealed uncontrollably.

That was all the others needed.

All six pairs of undead eyes were now focussed in our direction, and they moved like a pack of hunting wolves. Scrambling back away from the car, I pulled the young girl close to me as we moved.