other guys do that only to shove their hands into waiting mouths. I got lucky. I pushed back and sat up as I straddled his struggling form, keeping my hand on his throat. A gargled moan came from his lips as he struggled and thrashed at my arms. I drew my sidearm and, shoving the barrel in between his eyebrows, fired once, ending the zombie once and for all.
I stood up and surveyed the damage. Two members were definitely down and finished. I walked over to where the bludgeon lay and picked up the heavy stick. I went back to the two still forms, and with two very swift swings, ensured that they would not be coming back for dinner. Sometimes the virus reanimated people killed by zombies, sometimes it didn’t. Better to be sure, I always say.
I went over to the survivors and spoke with the other pinner. “What happened?’ I asked.
The pinner, Bill Cross, shook as he looked over his dead squad members. “I’m not sure. One minute we were doing just fine, then all of a sudden this trio of fast moving zombies comes out over the hill and jumps our Shooter. He got one of them, but the other two split up and came at us while we were dealing with that fat one over there.” He indicated with a wave of his hand the large corpse laying a few feet away.
“Wait. You said they split up?” I asked, not sure I had heard correctly.
“Yeah. One of them went after the Shooter and the other came at us from behind. Christian never knew what hit him until the thing had dragged him down. That bought enough time for the rest of them to swarm and hit us as a mob.”
That made sense. Not a lot, but it did. “Where’s your shooter? Where’s Steve?”
Bill looked out over the hill. “He’s down that way. Looks like he’s coming back.”
I followed his gaze. Sure enough, I saw my other Shooter coming back. He walked a little stiff, like his leg was hurting him. I walked over to the top of the embankment and started towards him. He stopped me with a raised hand. “Sorry, John. That’s as close as you get.” He said, keeping me about twenty feet away. “What happened, Steve?” I asked, not wanting to hear the answer. “Fuckers came out of nowhere, moving faster than I ever saw these bastards move. Just wasn’t expecting it, you know?” I knew, having seen a couple of them myself. “Yeah, I dealt with one myself.” “Was it the guy in the red shirt?” Steve asked. “That’s the one.”
“Never saw nothing like it. Four of them came fast, only managed to get a lucky shot off that dropped one of them. The other three charged, but only one attacked me. The other two stopped for a second, looked at me, and then went off to the squad. It was like, like…” I finished his sentence. “Like they were thinking things through and made a choice.” “Exactly!” Steve thought for a second. “It was like he knew I would kill him, so he went after easier prey.” “Need to think about how this changes things, don’t we?” I said. “You will. Not me.” Steve showed me his hand. It was bloody at the wrist and a chunk was missing.
I didn’t know what to say. Steve was a great guy, not prone to panic, and hated zombies with a passion for killing his wife and children. He knew he wasn’t going to make it and didn’t want to risk anyone else. “I’m sorry, Steve.”
He waved me off. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve avenged my family a dozen times. At least now I can go be with them.” His voice trailed off as he looked around him. I knew what he was doing. He was taking a last look around and just appreciating all the good things he could see. I did that myself, once, when I thought all hope was lost and it would be better just to end it all for Jake and myself. It was different for Steve, though. His family was gone.
“Do me a favor?” Steve suddenly said.
“What’s that?” I asked, although I already knew the answer.
“I can’t kill myself. Thought I could but a while ago knew I couldn’t. Guess that’s what made me such a badass with the Z’s. I wasn’t fighting so hard to kill them, I was fighting so hard so I wouldn’t have to kill myself.”
I understood where he was coming from. Steve was my friend, and I had to kill him before he got sick and turned. My heart was heavy as I answered him. “I’d be honored.”
Steve locked eyes with me. “Thanks. I’m glad I found a friend like you in this mess.” He put his guns down and made a pile of the gear he took off. His guns would go to another shooter, his clothes would be burned, and his body would be buried on the hill overlooking the creek. He would join the 27 others up there, killed in a battle that some, even myself, were wondering why we bothered.
Steve walked away from his gear and stood facing the field. I could see the other corpse out there, the one that Steve killed; the one that killed him.
I walked a little to the right until I was about fifteen feet behind him. I had a hard time with my sights, because something got into my eyes. But I knew what he wanted and as a friend I could not do less. I would want someone to end me the same way should I get bitten. I said a quick prayer for Steve and quick request for forgiveness, and pulled the trigger.
The high powered round took Steve in the back of the head, killing him instantly. His body fell straight over, not bending or crumpling in any way. I smiled slightly to myself. That was just like Steve. No compromise. I looked skyward, raging inside at what I had become, what I was forced to do. But nothing was going to change what had happened that day. I lowered my rifle and walked back to the groups waiting for me. I picked up Steve’s weapons and slung them over my shoulder. My mind went back to the days when I had to kill another person, when the all the killing began.
16
Cleanup went fairly smoothly, although there was a definite pall in the air. People were angry that three of their number were down, and more than once I had to stop people from going “hunting” on their own, looking for some kind of revenge. When you were angry, you didn’t focus, and when you lost your focus, especially against this kind of enemy, you were killed. It didn’t get any simpler than that. Screw up and die, there were no second chances.
A large pile of corpses was dragged to the baseball diamond, where we had dug a hole in the pitcher’s mound a while ago. Bodies were unceremoniously dumped, covered with gasoline siphoned from cars, and set on fire. We have a pastor who once wanted to say a prayer for the dead, but after a particularly scary moment where his wife was nearly bitten, his prayers usually consisted of “Fuck you and burn.” I didn’t think that helped morale any, so we stopped the practice.
Frank was the consummate complainer. He whined about how heavy the bodies were, how bad they smelled, how much his back hurt, are we sure they were completely dead, why can’t he be a pinner, why can’t he be a shooter. Nate Coles was about ready to shoot the little bastard. Can’t say as I blamed him. I fully expected Frank to go completely childish and ask “Are we there yet?” each time he dragged a body over the bridge.
I was busy myself, hunting a lurker that had managed to avoid the eradication crews by falling into the wooded area on the north side of the creek. Two of the groups had indicated that they were sure something was in there. I hated the woods, because it was hard to see. The leaves hadn’t fallen yet, but there were enough on the ground to make silence impossible. What made it worse was the trees were small and close together, so rifles were hard to use. Yippee for me. I positioned two other shooters to cover the woods on the north and south, and I was going to enter through the west side along the creek. Why the thing hadn’t come out yet was a mystery. Did it catch a stray round that had luckily put it down? Who knew? All I knew was I had to go get it. Part of being a leader, I guess. Never ask someone else to do something you wouldn’t do yourself.
I edged along the creek with my gun out, held low. My senses were on hyper alert, and I strained to hear anything that might give me a clue as to where he or she was. I stopped at the edge of the woods and called out, “Here, Stinky, Stinky, Stinky!” No response except a snicker from one of my shooters. I tried again. “Come on out, you cute little pus-bag, you!”
No luck. I started to think there was nothing here. But I still needed to check the woods to be sure. I went in slowly, stepping along the creek. The bank of the creek was steep, and footing was difficult. The water was noisy, covering any sound Stinky might make. I walked a little bit further, and still saw nothing. What the hell? I could see the end of the woods a little further ahead, and no sign of any zombie. If they knew I was here they’d be out already, so my guess was nothing was here.
I turned to head out and the creek exploded upwards behind me. The ghoul had apparently fallen in the
