Zombies close to the road, or in our way, made good target practice without taking an inordinate amount of time. In our own small way, we felt pleased to reduce the overall number of enemies roaming day and night in constant search of humans to devour.
A few miles past the Minnesota state line, Kira suddenly blurted, "Look! Off to the right across that field." She shifted her slender body forward in the seat and peered intently through the glass. "Over there. Two people are being chased by a pack of zombies."
I drove toward where a line of hedge trees ended near the road where the couple was bound. If they could stay ahead of the undead horrors long enough, we could help them. I didn't hold out much hope; they were at least one hundred and fifty yards from the road, and they were clearly struggling. The drainage ditch on my right was too deep and narrow for the truck to cross, and there were no field entrance crossings nearby.
The human couple moved as if they were young, maybe eighteen or twenty. Both were thin, but their movements looked tired and haggard. I stopped along the highway short of the end of the hedge row and honked the horn to make sure they saw us and knew we were waiting for them. They glanced in our direction and surged ahead on the newfound energy a promise of hope gave them.
Outside the truck, I raised binoculars and observed the chase. Sadly the zombies were gaining, and the humans were losing.
The five zombies closest to the humans were all fast runners. The slow members of the pack, at least eight, stumbled along a hundred feet behind and lost ground by the minute. It wasn't at all unusual for one to trip and fall then go through absurd, animated, gyrations to get righted.
Marilyn and Kira groaned sorrowfully as the woman slipped and fell to one knee. The young man grabbed her arm and lifted her, dragging her onto her feet without stopping. Gallantly, he continued to support her as they sprinted ahead. The zombies closed the distance to about fifteen feet. The young male wore a light weight blue jacket and she wore a gray hooded sweat shirt, both unzipped despite the cold. She carried a big melon of a belly for such a slight frame. I heard Kira fire twice, then again. Marilyn and I leaned across the truck's hood and aimed. I hit my weaving, bouncing, target a bit low and punctured the female's rotted chest area below the neck, only slowing it momentarily. A second shot shattered its hairless cranium.
The fastest zombie surged ahead and quickly closed the gap to the struggling couple to ten feet. It was apparent the youngsters were fatigued. Their steps cut erratically across the rough terrain as they slipped and stumbled on mud and slush from melting snow.
Kira and Marilyn both fired several rounds, and the lead zombie fell to the ground. It was quickly replaced by another screeching undead horror in a burst of speed that brought it within an arm’s length and then into contact with its female victim. The woman screamed, terrorized as the rotting beast gripped her shoulder with its powerful emaciated fingers. I shuddered under the reality of what was about to happen. No matter how many times I'd watched similar scenarios unfold, their final endings were always the breeding ground of horrible nightmares for weeks on end.
Marilyn groaned audibly as Kira said, "My God, they're not going to make it."
The man grabbed the zombie's decomposed wrist and forcefully yanked it away from the woman. She tripped and fell and tumbled to her hands and knees as she screamed intermittently. High pitched, pitiful, fatalistic screams.
The zombie had both hands on the young man and wrestled him to the ground. The wailing woman scurried backward on her hands and knees like a crawfish in a futile attempt to escape the horror befalling her friend. Her screams became shrill and constant and carried across the cold air. Her pitiful cries of fear only whetted the appetite of the beasts in pursuit. We kept firing and had some hits on the bobbing, stumbling targets. My fears became reality when two more zombies fell onto the pregnant woman and commenced feeding on her. The screams of both humans mingled with the moans and screeches of the rotting undead were unforgettable and seared my mind as chunks of flesh and bone were ripped from the couple’s bodies.
In desperation as I aimed, I softly said, "Target the humans." I fired and my target shuddered. Marilyn and Kira stopped firing and turned to me with mouths open and eyes wide. "They're done for and shouldn't have to endure being eaten alive until they die. They'll only transition into the monsters devouring them and have to be stopped anyway." We three shot until it was evident the young man and woman were dead. A sick feeling lodged in my stomach and I gagged as I resisted the urge to vomit; but there was still work to do. We turned our rifles on the remaining zombies that were noisily feasting. The slow movers plowed ahead with loud moans as we finished the fast ones. Slowly we picked off the stragglers until all the zombies were prone on the ground. I watched Kira and Marilyn deflate and slump at the same time I did.
In the overpowering silence that descended, we stared in disbelief at the remains of the people we had mercifully killed. That was a new experience for all of
