Crowded Yet Desolate: A Zombie Novel (8 page)

Chapter 9

From Ryan’s crouched position, the Midtown city buildings in the distance seemed to shoot towards the sky, and Ryan imagined that the buildings themselves were racing to flee from the horror they were about to enter. He lowered his gaze and slid around the group’s cover to look down the street, earning himself some concerned comments from behind. He ignored the comments and looked down this street he had seen a thousand times before, this street now made unrecognizable with human carnage and the streets running red with blood, the zombies feet and hands splashing in it as they scavenged for scraps of left over humans. The sun reflected off the building towards his right, and Ryan again observed the shattered glass, large windows broken open with office chairs and computer monitors. His imagination did not have to stretch far to conjure what horrors those who jumped must have faced in order to choose suicide. It stretched anyways.

But then Tavaris broke him from his thoughts. “We should form a circle,” Tavaris suggested with a voice that Ryan found far too calm. “So we can protect ourselves from all angles.”

Ryan joined the others. The twins agreed with Tavaris, adding that Kayla should hold the baby in the middle of the circle for optimal protection. With the plan set, Ryan began to feel hopeful again, though he couldn’t fully dismiss his suicide solution. Roe took the spot in the front of the circle so that he could clear a path with his semi-automatic weapon. Ryan was encouraged when Roe suggested that he take the place directly on his right.
Maybe I’m not such a horrible shot after all
, Ryan thought. But then he remembered that his biggest problem was actually having the courage to fire the weapon. Everyone circled, Joe taking the opposite spot of his twin. Joe instructed that they should always remain moving, never stopping. If the circle broke, so did they.

Then, with no great gesture, no riveting half-time speech, no stacking of the hands or upbeat music, the circle stepped out from behind their cover and began moving as one down the street. Ryan’s heart was exploding in a rapturous beat, but instead of becoming paralyzed like before, he felt strong and powerful, like he could do anything. It was as if a guardian angel floated above him, serenading confidence to him through song.

As Roe and Ryan led the way, their footsteps alerted the surrounding zombies of their presence. The zombies’ change in pattern alerted others, producing a visible and audible domino effect down the street. The undead, screaming violently, sprinted at the group like a stampede of bulls, a seemingly endless horde of zombies filling the streets and sidewalks. Some were trapped in a nearby building, unable to open the doors and join in the pursuit, and they smashed themselves bloody against the glass to get at the fresh meat. Most, however, were trapped in between walls of decayed flesh, all pushing towards Ryan and the others. Ryan struggled to see a way through the undead masses. There was no empty space, only zombies, vehicles, and buildings. The interstate had to be less than half a mile away, but that is an impossible distance when the path is filled with the walking dead.

Roe fired.

Every time he pulled the trigger, a bullet surged forward and crashed one of the undead to its final grave, a feat that Ryan knew he could never achieve. Roe’s dexterity combined with the speed of the semi-automatic weapon soon layered the ground with the dead. Though covered in gore, a path began to clear down the middle of the zombie-infested street. From the left, Tavaris was firing, making up for his lack of accuracy with the second firearm, and ensuring no zombies filled the path from his side. But zombies were beginning to fill the path from Ryan’s side.

Gunshots roaring around him, Ryan thought,
it’s
now or never
. He readied the rifle and squeezed the trigger. At the last moment, he jerked the barrel left, barely missing his target. The stray bullet hit the head of a distant zombie. He pushed the lever forward and fired another shot as the previous shell fell to the ground. His aim was true this time. A hole blasted through the center of the zombie’s head, and it fell backwards, knocking other zombies down. He fired, splattering blood, pushed the lever, fired, splattering blood, pushed the lever–the rhythm was becoming second nature. He felt like he was in the old west, hunting outlaws. All other senses faded to the kill instinct.

When Ryan tried to fire again, he heard the number seven in his head.
Shit,
he thought, discouraged that he was forced to stop once he found his rhythm. He reached into his pocket and shoved shell after shell into the gun, not daring to take his eyes off the scene ahead. Ryan tensed as he saw the zombies were getting closer. Roe and Tavaris were also reloading, and with no firepower in the front, there was nothing to stop their approach. Ryan kept his feet moving, just as planned. Roe forced his second clip into his gun, then began pushing the line of zombies back one by one.

The group was far into the zombie horde now, and the beasts surrounded them on all sides. Their only hope was to continue blasting a path and keeping it clear as they passed through. As Joe reloaded, zombies sprinted to the rear of the circle, forcing Joe to pull his handgun from his holster and pistol-whip a zombie in the head. Cam sent a zombie’s head rolling on the floor with his machete. The gunfire began again, and space was created between them and the undead horde.

There’s no end to them!
Ryan thought.
If only they had some basic thought or instinct, they wouldn’t push forward so fearlessly!

In this manner, them but a small island under the crashing waves of zombies, they reached the interstate ramp, everybody’s gun now empty. As they reloaded, Ryan saw that interstate road was littered with abandoned cars, which had no doubt once been full of panicky masses hell bent on escape. Now, the interstate was packed and lifeless, with only a few zombies roaming through the deserted landscape.

“We need to run for it,” Ryan said, so quickly he was surprised anyone understood. “There’s no way we can stay in a circle with all of the cars. Hopefully the cars will slow them down just as much.”

But they did. Without discussion, the group broke formation. Ryan led the way down the ramp, weaving in and out of the cars, making sure to avoid open doors. Each time he neared an open car, he imagined a zombie jumping out at him, grabbing hold of his arm and forcing its teeth into his flesh, so he held his gun ready. It never did happen, though. The only undead that warranted worry were chasing behind. The pursuing zombies knew no fatigue or pain–what Ryan was starting to consider one of their more annoying traits–but they also had no dexterity. The blockade of cars was tripping them up, navigating between too difficult for them. One slammed into an open car door, and at its speed, it must’ve broken its hip. Others ran into the backs of cars, slipping as they attempted to crawl over the top. The majority began to fall behind as they tried to squeeze in between the cars, like a mass of people trying to enter a store when it first opens on black Friday.

Once on the interstate, Roe jumped into the bed of a truck and dispatched the ones who had managed to break out, and with each shot Ryan felt freer from the pursuing horde. Roe jumped down when an appreciable safety net had been created, and they ran on. But with miles of the unknown ahead, Ryan didn’t allow himself to relax yet.

No one could have predicted how comparatively safe the interstate was going to be. A few miles past the ramp, they found a pickup truck and decided to rest and reload in its bed. Cam shared the snacks and drinks he had taken from the gun store. Albert inspected Kyle, redressing his wound with extra sheets that they had brought along. Albert announced that Kyle showed no signs of the virus. Ryan smiled, pleased that he might have saved Kyle’s life, but knew they still had to be wary for signs of change.

Even though there were many dead bodies around them, the area was relatively clear of zombies. This puzzled Ryan, but it brought him enough relief that he didn’t ponder it long. The few zombies they had encountered were overpowered and dispatched easily and quietly. When they had been closer to the heart of Atlanta, Ryan thought he had seen people gathered around a fire on the roof of a building. But it wasn’t until they set out from the truck that Ryan received proof of the other humans’ existence. He heard their screams and gunshots echoing from beyond the interstate, where a battle was occurring, a battle that the humans were losing, by the sound of it. Ryan stopped to listen, one hand on the truck, as the screams died away and the gunshots lessened, until there was dead silence. Saddened, Ryan and the others continued on, avoiding open doors and vehicles they couldn’t see into.

As the buildings on the sides of the interstate faded to trees, the sun began to fade. They quickened their pace, and Ryan stared into the distance, searching for the exit ramp. But when the twins got off the interstate, it was not by an exit ramp; they climbed a hill to the right, staring down at the others, who returned with looks of disbelief.

Joe said, “The exit’s not far from here, but if we get off here, we should cut about half an hour out of our time.”

“Should . . . ” Ryan said uneasily.

“We went on a long walk once and found our way to the interstate through these woods. Now it’s just the same thing in reverse. Come on. We’ll be fine.”

Uncomfortable, Ryan followed. About twenty minutes later they reached a thicket of trees that appeared to thicken into a full forest. Pale and frightened, Ryan had to force himself to follow. He didn’t want to be in the middle of the woods in fading sunlight. The treetops blocked what little light remained, and Ryan stumbled on tree roots and pulled sharp, painful thorns from his clothes as they progressed through the woods. Ryan attuned his ears to the noises around him: the crunch of leaves under their feet, birds whistling, crickets chirping. He heard a rustle and abruptly turned. It was a deer, which looked at him, frightened, and scattered away. And suddenly, an act that was meant to warn him to attacks brought him peace instead. The nature surrounding them seemed unaware of the surrounding madness. For the first time in a day, Ryan’s thoughts cleared, and he didn’t feel guilt over Deborah’s death; he didn’t feel scared or weary; his mind was simply focused on navigating through the thick brush.

But all things come to an end. The stars and the moon faintly lit their pat as they exited the woods and found a small two-lane road. After Roe looked left and right along the road, he said, “Good. This way.” They remained silent as they walked, the sound of their footsteps mixing with the sounds of the night. Ryan longed for the serenity he felt in the woods again, hoping their journey would soon be over. His aim was bad in the light and surely atrocious in the dark. An attack now could be their end. He walked on, trying not to think such thoughts.

Slowly, large houses began replacing the woods on both sides of the road. The population of the houses grew denser, eventually leading into neighborhoods. They passed a sign welcoming them into Harpersville, and Ryan could see the town’s faint light shining in the dark.

“At least home still has lights,” Roe said.

“Ya, but for how long?” Ryan asked.

Joe said that they were close, that they should look for a place to set up camp for the night. It was late, dark; the twins lived an hour’s walk on the other side of town. Ryan agreed that stopping would be best. They quickened their pace as they began to hear sounds–either from the living or the dead. No one fancied a battle in the darkness of night. The town, so peaceful and safe from a distance, proved to be less hopeful as they approached. Ryan heard the noises more distinctly now: zombies, all around them, hidden in the darkness. When the twins armed themselves, Ryan gladly equipped his rifle and ensured it was loaded and ready. The group slowed its pace.

The subdivisions bled into offices and restaurants, and the street widened into a four-lanes. Ryan had expected more signs of life in Harpersville, because of its small population and distance from Atlanta, but life here seemed halted in its tracks too. He had expected the outbreak to spread out of Atlanta, but how did it do this much damage so quickly? Everything seemed so abandoned: fast food restaurants, hometown restaurants, convenient stores, and grocery store lined the roads around them. They searched for a placed to stay, but everything seemed too large or too accessible for safety–doors of buildings were left wide open or unhinged, ground floor windows were smashed open. Ryan scanned the streets for signs of zombies, leaving the business of finding a safe place to the twins, but the darkness overpowered the town lights, and he couldn’t see a thing.

The stench first hit Ryan as they crossed under a traffic light near a CVS store. He turned, and, seeing it come from around the corner, barely had enough time to react before the zombie leaped at him. He managed to place his rifle lengthwise across the zombie’s throat as it fell down on top of him. He pushed up on the gun, keeping the zombie’s teeth at bay. The zombie, fat, pressed down with what felt like a ton of force. The longer this went on, the closer it approached his face.
Where the fuck is everyone?
he thought
.
He heard gunshots, his partners dealing with their own problems. The teeth were inches from his face now, and the Zombie’s stinking breath felt hot against his turned cheek as it snapped its jaws and drooled on him. Ryan’s mind recalled the little girl who was bitten in the nose, and as he did he felt the zombie’s moist lips against his cheeks.

He had to do something if he wanted to keep his face intact. He brought his feet in and thrust his pelvis into the air, pivoting off his left foot and rolling over so that he was on top of the zombie with his gun pushing down on its throat
.
The zombie continued in its attempt to bite him. It reached its arms up towards Ryan’s face, and Ryan had to arch his neck back to avoid being scratched. He could see the others now. Multiple zombies were dead, and the group was contending with the others. Kayla held the crying baby against the wall of the CVS, and her husband stood guard over them, protecting them from the mayhem. A zombie with a flattened, broken face lay at his feet.