Mostly Dead (Barely Alive #3) (7 page)

The zombie dragged his feet. Lo
ud sounds jarred the silence of the room like he rummaged through items on the counter and shelves. He could’ve smelled the scent of human all over the place. The gas station reeked of human.

A box of Twinkies above Heather’s head looked enticing. She hadn’t eaten in a while. I pulled it down and handed it to her before motioning
for her to move around the side of the other shelves.

He needed to burn.

We had to get the hell out of there.

With my little flame, I started a different box of treats on fire, but the flames didn’t spread fast. An accelerant… I needed something flammable.

Heather’s feet disappeared around the corner away from the register. At least she had the presence of mind to do what I said and not argue. I moved to my hands and knees and crept into the aisle of supplies. Bug spray stared at me when I’d crawled halfway down. Bug spray wasn’t paint, but aerosol anything would do just fine.

Minimal smoke moved through the air, suggesting a fire had started, somewhere.
Or maybe that someone had lit up a piss-ant sized cigarette. Twinkies hadn’t done more than smolder. Shit. So annoying.

The
zombie noises stopped.

I froze. Nothing would make them stop. What the hell had happened?

Moving toward the doors, I strained my ears for any sound, anything that would give away his position. Heather would be screaming, if he’d found her. He could still be close. I could throw myself between them, if there was any danger.

At the
magazine rack I looked to my left. Heather’s fingers peeked at me from the other side of the aisle.

“Aaahhhaaaaahhhhhh.” Throaty and deep, the zombie’s moan made the hair on my neck stand up.
Shit.
He was right above me. He grabbed my shoulders and lifted me to stand. And bared his teeth.

“Hell, no.” I jerked my arms up and sprayed the bug repellant and flicked the rifle. A homemade flamethrower burst a justifiable stream of heat into his face. He didn’t scream
or even moan. But he dropped me and I faltered, steadying myself by grabbing onto the shelves. “Heather, run!”

Feet pounded
on tile. She at least made it to the door. He turned his head toward her, but didn’t take up the chase. The smoke had obscured his sense of smell.

Firelight
framed his features. A purplish black haze surrounded him. He could’ve been an angel with the red, orange, yellow, and purple hues splashing him in surreal lights. The only thing that made leaving the fire’s hypnotic pull was the too-recent memory of Brian’s painful death.

Not one to
go down without a fight, I grabbed the closest item to me – a box of pasta,
what the hell?
– and used it to shove the zombie-skewer over backwards. I didn’t want flames on me.

He didn’t struggle and landed in the magazines.

B
eside the door, I glanced past the burning man. The forest was dark, sunlight unable to penetrate the foliage and smoke. A shadow shifted in the trees closer to the freeway exit. I couldn’t make out if it was a trick of the light or my imagination… or something else.

Heather waited for me, clutch
ing the Twinkies like a safety blanket. I took her arm – to speed things along but also so I could touch her. I didn’t have long to enjoy the little things. I pushed her in front of me, so I could walk close behind, my hand still on her arm. If I needed to, I’d snatch her up and run. In her ear, I whispered, “I doubt he came alone. There might be something in the trees past the parking lot. I can’t be sure. We need to get out of here.”

A slow nod and she picked up the pace without runnin
g. I kick-started the four-fifty and Heather climbed on. The rumble of James’s bike echoed mine.

He met my eyes and held up five fingers, once, twice, a third time, then only two fingers. He’d counted seventeen lurking in the woods.

The creatures would want people. We couldn’t get out the way we’d come in. They could rip us off the dirt bikes with simple clothesline maneuvers or by jumping on the bikes. We’d have to go through town.

Heather gasped. In my ear, she murmured, “Paul, we have to warn people. This isn’t fair.”

But what could I do? It was still too early to find anyone on the streets. We’d be running from house to house to save what? A bunch of people who… wait a minute. They weren’t infected yet. If I could get them to Sandpoint, we could get them the vaccine.

I could start my own damn army.

Stalling the zombies on our tail wouldn’t give us much time, but it might be enough. They wanted to eat and Heather smelled delicious.

B
ut they’d also want fire.

I held out my hand. “Can I have a lighter?”
I’d dropped my cool one in the store after I’d lit up the zombie inside.

James
arched his brow, but handed a bright red Bic over. Within reach of the nozzle I’d used, I pulled the black hose toward me and yanked the nozzle from its hole. Spraying gas on the cement, the garbage can, and up the sides of the pump took less time than I’d thought it would. The clamp that held the handle in place for hands-free pumping snapped when I clenched it. I dropped the still pumping nozzle to the ground.

A luminescent rainbow spread across the fast growing puddle.
Being a car enthusiast, the smell of gas reminded me of cologne real men wear.

N
apkins twitched in the slight breeze from the window cleaner dispenser. I motioned to James to keep driving. I grabbed a napkin and twisted the blue material into a tight wad. I held it out to Heather and looked over my shoulder.

The zombies weren’t far from us – maybe thirty feet or so. I’d taken too long. “Drop this after I light it.”

A flick of the lighter delivered a small flame, but I didn’t need a huge one. The napkin caught and Heather watched it take hold.

Heather squealed. The zombies answered with a feverish moan and grumble. She swallowed a whimper. I turned from her, hoping she wouldn’t light my hair on fire.

Clu
tch in, shift, clutch out and the motor grabbed. We moved, but I held us back from speeding away. Heather had to drop an intact flame. And she did.

The whoosh when it grabbed the fumes startled me
. I revved the throttle on my bike. We passed James who’d stopped to watch us, his face pale.

An explosion, I honestly hadn’t been expecting, curdled the air around us. An arm and some other debris hurtled through the air and land
ed on the ground. We drove as fast as we could from the gas station toward the center of town, allowing the concussion of the blast to push us further.

We may have totaled seventeen zombies, but that didn’t mean we got all of them, or even a large chunk of them.
All we did was stall.

Small business
es lined the streets, minus any cars. Around a corner past a small gray building, cars packed the church’s parking lot. Over my shoulder, I asked Heather, “Is today Sunday?”

“No.” She shook her head and parts of her bounced against my back. I was still in a thin t-shirt and while I was freezing my ass off, I would
n’t put on a coat or a sweatshirt to save my life. I could feel she was cold, too. The discovery thrilled me.

I
turned into the church lot and parked my bike beside the front doors. All the spots were taken and then some.

James climbed off his bike parked the same way.

We watched the area surrounding the church, but nothing moved. Black billowing smoke poured off the gas station three blocks away, obscuring our view of the freeway and the trees.

“Do you think there are people here?” James muttered, his eyes never leaving the search.

“I hope so. I seriously do not want to go house to house to warn people.” Sighs wouldn’t get me out of being a good guy. Heather would make sure we stayed and at least warned someone. But she was human and had to act humane. I, on the other hand, only had to act however the hell I wanted to act. I was a zombie, too, and short for the world – so what were my consequences?

Heather didn’t wait for us to scope out the building. She pushed through the thick, wooden double doors
and stopped.

A double barrel shotgun pressed into her forehead.

“Wait!” Holy shit, I screamed like a girl. “Wait. Stop.”

Heather paled. Her hands r
ose slowly at her sides. In silhouette, her face had a distressed grimace. I half-expected her to break into tears. I almost did.

I wanted to pass out. Attack the person. Eat something. A damn gun was aimed at Heather. I couldn’t breathe.

James moved to the side, in view of the person holding the gun. His voice carried low and steady. “We came because we saw the cars. You need to get out of here. They’re coming.”

The gun lowered and a deep feminine voice blasted from the dark interior. “How do we know you’re not one of them?”

Truth wouldn’t set us free right then. James had given me time to get a hold of myself. I sidled up beside James and peered into the cave-like hole. Hair spiked up in all directions combined with a robe worn thin in areas with age. The woman’s hard face didn’t offer understanding or ask forgiveness.

An odor of unwashed bodies and spoiled meat hit me in the face from the open doorway. I held up my hands. “Are there
a lot of you in there?”

She lifted the barrel an inch and studied me with red-rimmed eyes. “Why?”

“Look,” I stepped in front of James, “we aren’t here to hurt anyone.” I jerked my head toward Heather. “In fact, she made us stop to warn you. The gas station just exploded, taking about seventeen of them with it.” I paused, unsure how much to tell her. How much did she need to hear to make her get the hell out of there?

Another face appeared
and the new girl pushed the door open further. “I want to hear this.” Four more women joined her, all with eyes wide and mouths pressed tight. From the back, a child’s cry made me close my eyes.

“In Sandpoint there’s a vaccine, so even if you do get bit, you won’t get the virus. You won’t become like them.” Heather spoke up,
ignoring the shotgun inches from her face. She had guts.

“If you don’t follow us, you might
not make it. As it is, we might be too late.” I checked over my shoulder, past the packed parking lot. Shapes moved, outlined by the flames behind them. I pointed and raised my voice. “Look, there are more now. Get in your cars and get the hell out of here. They don’t stop. You can only kill them with fire.” I humorlessly chuckled at the lady swinging her gun out of the door in the direction of the gas station. “They
will
get you. A
gun
? Won’t even slow them down.”

She glanced from me to the shadows by the flames. The five faces disappeared behind her, calling out in fear.

I set my jaw. No way would I wait for a bunch of people who didn’t know when to run.

Heather backed up against me. “You have to get out of here. Come with us. If you get the vaccine, you have more of a chance. I’ve been bit twice and I’m not like them.” She held up her arm, the scabs dark but small on her pale skin.
“It can be a lot worse.” She’d left out the immunity part, but for argument’s sake, who gave a damn?

The robed woman reached into her pocket and pulled out a set of keys. She turned inside
, behind the door, and hollered, “Kids, let’s go.” Kids? The woman had kids. She reemerged with a boy and a girl clutched under each arm. “We can’t get out using the freeway. We’ll need to go north, the back way.”

We needed the escape route, ourselves.

James and I stood guard as one family led by the mother fled the church and filed into their car. Another family and another followed, all devoid of fathers. At first, I worried there would be a jam, but the cars filed out in order. A minivan filled with seven kids and a woman left the lot, leaving two cars with us and our bikes.

I poked my head inside the church, holding my breath against the offensive odor. “Anybody left?”

A small cry reached my ears. I pulled James close. “We don’t have much time. I’m going to check and see who’s left. Get your bike ready. Can you start mine?” He nodded and I ducked into the church.

The darkness wasn’t a trick of
my eyes after being exposed to the bright outside. Paper had been taped to the windows. All the light bulbs had been removed and the doors barricaded with furniture. I followed the frightened sound to the chapel, to the front pews. A young woman about my age held a small girl, most likely her sister, with large eyes.

“We have to go.” I motioned toward the door. “It’s not safe here.”

The older girl shivered and nodded. “I know. But we can’t leave. I don’t have a car and my dad said he’d meet us here.”

We didn’t have long. My stomach twisted with anxiety over Heather and James stranded outside the church. “How long have you been here?”

“Almost twenty-four hours. We haven’t had a toilet or running water since we got here. None of the dads have shown up and they were supposed to be here about noon yesterday.” She gripped the girl hard and swallowed. “You’re the first people we’ve seen after an ice cream truck drove through town.” An ice cream truck? The reference made me ill. Could Dominic have made it? Was it a coincidence that the truck had also driven through here?