Timothy Long - Beyond the Barriers

They weren’t moving fast, but they were being driven. I noticed green and felt the urge to grab the machine gun, pop the top, and lay into him. I couldn’t risk it, however; not with Katherine bleeding next to me. With every bump, she groaned, and more than once cried out in pain. I reached over and put my hand on her leg, but she didn’t respond to my gestures.

We made it to the gate, and I ignored it, assuming we would never return, and this time punched the gas. I took out one more of the things and smashed through the wooden planks as if they were kindling. The green aura faded behind me as I swung the car to the right, so that the ghoul was no longer in my rearview mirror. I set it at thirty-five and, when the road was clear, took it up about ten miles per hour. I hadn’t gone this way and didn’t know what to expect. I had driven toward town before, and that didn’t turn out so well, so I went the other way. I had no idea where this led, except deeper into the mountains. I did look at maps the last time I was here, with Allison, but the memory of those was long gone.

“You okay?” I asked.

“It hurts,” she whispered. I could hear the pain in her voice but could do little for her. I drove on as indecision gnawed at me. After another mile, I pulled over to the side of the road and had a chuckle at myself—at my old habit of getting out of the way. No one was going this way except us. I bet I could have stayed there for a day and not have spotted another soul in an automobile.

“Let me see.” I turned on the overhead light, which barely illuminated the interior. It was dim and dull, as if the light bulb were going out.

“Just drive,” she said softly.

Turning, I took her bloody hand in mine. I pulled it down gently as I stared into her eyes. She held on at first, gripping her sweatshirt like it was her prized possession. Then, after a very brief battle of wills, she gave in and let down her guard. I tugged at the shirt as gently as I could, but she winced and gasped as I touched the wound.

Her pale skin was marred by the puncture. It puckered out above her shoulder blade, and I worried about fragments of bone exploding from the shot and causing more damage. I tugged her forward and verified that there was an entrance and an exit wound, so at least the bullet wasn’t stuck in her. How the hell had this happened?

“Did you see who shot you?” I reached for the glove box and found some old paper towels. Probably left over from the last time I cleaned the car, months and months ago. I tore off the first few and threw them in the back, then folded one into quarters and pressed it to the wound. She cried out and moved to push my hand out of the way, but I batted it aside.

“I’m sorry it hurts. I’m concerned about the blood loss, so please keep these packed close.” I tried to sound reassuring, but even a wound this small could be deadly. She needed antibiotics, a doctor, stitching at the very least. I would settle for a vet right about now.

Portland. The name rang in my head, and I knew that was where we needed to go.

“No,” she said.

“What?”

“I didn’t see who shot me, but it couldn’t be one of those things. One of the zombies. It had to be a ghoul, which means they are getting smarter, learning our ways.”

“They used to be us. I would say they already know our ways.” I folded another paper towel and put it over the back of the wound, then carefully slipped her shirt back over it and put her hand on the wound. “Hold that tight.”

She settled back in her seat and pressed on her shoulder. I flipped through the glove box and found an old bottle of Advil. I wasn’t sure if it would thin her blood out, but a couple might at least take the edge off. I rattled the bottle in her direction, and she gave me a half-smile. Opening the lid, I asked her if she wanted two.

“Give me four.”

Nodding, I handed them over, and she dry swallowed them. I grew thirsty watching her suck them down. I would have given anything for a glass of ice-cold water right about then.

Starting the car, I looked back the way we had come. If I went forward, we might drive for hours before I found a way out of the gorge between the mountains. If I went the other way, I knew we could make it back to Vesper Lake, but I was sure it would be just as bad as the last time I was there, when the things almost got me. Now I would be with someone who was wounded, which meant keeping a constant eye on her. I couldn’t count on help from the Walmart crew; they should all be long gone. I would have to get to town and find a back way out of it without attracting too much attention.

“I think we need to head back to town, pass through and either catch up with the caravan or get to Portland. They are waiting for us there.”

“How are we going to get out of there without the things tearing us apart? I know how many there are, and how much they want our blood. There’s no way, Erik. No way.”

“I’ll have to find a way around,” I said, glancing at the gas tank, which was about a quarter full. I was sure we could get there, and then maybe halfway to Portland. We would have to stop and fill up somewhere. I was thinking that we could drive around and find a trucking station, maybe a car dealership. They always had gas on hand, and we only needed four or five gallons to get us there. The problem was that we could well run out before we found a place to fill up.

“It’s dangerous.”

“So is letting you bleed to death.”

“I won’t bleed to death. It’s slowing now; the paper towels are helping.”

Leaning over, I kissed her. Her lips were cold, and she was tense from the pain. I turned up the heat and put the car in gear. After doing a one-eighty, I punched the gas. The metal plates on the outside of the vehicle rattled and groaned as I sped up.

We went past the road that led to the cabin, and I glanced up it, but in the dark I couldn’t make out anything. There could be fifty of them and I wouldn’t know it.

I kept Katherine’s gun at my side as I drove up the freeway. I was still concerned about things on the road—abandoned cars or rocks, people, zombies, or even ghouls—so I kept the speed down. She sat beside me, in silence, suffering. I set the gun in my lap and took the wheel with my left, then put my hand on her leg to comfort her. I could feel her staring at me, and when I looked over, she was watching me in the pale light. Her eyes were almost luminous, and I felt very deeply for her in that moment. I felt that I should tell her how much I cared about her, but I was afraid she would not return my feelings.

Out of habit, I turned on the radio and scanned the channels. I found the station that was playing old songs again, and I was surprised when she sang along with Rock and Roll Hoochie Koo under her breath. Having been hurt before, I knew how it felt to want to keep your mind on anything but the pain. I took a knife to the arm once in a brawl in a place I’m not supposed to talk about. Oh hell, who am I fooling? No one gives a shit about that stuff anymore.

The road was lonely, cold, and desolate. A chill seeped through the windshield in icy mockery of the car’s heater. I wanted to reach out and touch the glass, feel the dread that waited on the other side, but I kept my eyes on the road and ran along at a steady speed. When we were a mile or two from town, I took a left and went down a main road that ran parallel to the highway. I slowed down but kept my high beams on.

The road was draped in a curtain of trees. They were already starting to encroach on the asphalt, and I figured that in a year it would be completely overgrown. The road itself was covered in branches, leaves, trash, and the bones of things I wished were animals. There were also corpses pushed into ditches and hanging out of cars. In some cases, it appeared people had died in their vehicles, or their heads were blown off while trying to get out. It was all a harsh reminder of the fate we had escaped.