Decay: A Zombie Story (15 page)

I began to crawl towards the highway to get away from our vehicle, just in case. Sharpe followed me after he got back to his feet. I looked back at the charred and burning remnants of the other SUV and couldn’t help but think that I hoped they were already dead from the crash. And, while I wished we had gotten to them sooner, there was a chance that we’d be dead now too.

After a moment of staring at the wreck site, I took out my walkie-talkie and attempted to reach base for an extraction as Sharpe and I were officially on our own out here with no transport. However, the walkie-talkie seemed to have been damaged during the crash because all I got was static.

So, we tried Sharpe’s as I was sure the MPs would have had the better equipment. To no avail, his was the same result as mine. We decided to give it a minute to be sure our vehicle wasn’t about to go up in flames as well, then we would retrieve whatever useful gear we had inside and head out on foot in search of transport.

After retrieving some ammunition and our canteens, we headed out, taking a mile-or-so of the highway on foot. As we got a little further away from the crash site, I tried the walkie-talkie again, still to no avail. We were on our own for the time being and we both knew that could be quite a long time—especially if we couldn’t find a mode of transportation. We both agreed that we would continue our mission and search for survivors while we looked for a way out for ourselves. After all, any survivors we might find could end up having a car that we could use to get back to Berlin.

As we came to a highway onramp that would lead us into town, we cautiously went in, keeping an eye out for survivors and infected people. We both knew from experience that the more thickly settled areas would harvest more infected. So, we moved quickly and quietly with our weapons ready.

Upon entering the town, we found many broken down and abandoned cars and trucks. However, many of them were without keys. If they did have keys, they were either totaled or left on in some way so that the tanks were empty or the batteries were dead. We kept moving down side streets and didn’t see anyone—alive or otherwise, except completely dead corpses littered among the streets and sidewalks.

Just as we were about to give up, we came to an intersection where we looked a little further down the road and saw a couple of large signs hanging from the roof of a building. One was blocked by a tree, but the other said
SOS
in huge letters. Of course there was a chance these were put up a while ago and the people had come and gone or had left on their own accord. Regardless, we decided to check it out.

As we got closer, we noticed it was some kind of shop, a hardware shop. But, even if there were once people inside, there wasn’t anymore. The entire place was crawling with infected hosts, lurking around the parking lot and on the inside.

There was a red convertible in the lot, but between the dozen stumbling around the lot, we decided not to risk our lives for something that wasn’t even certain. After observing this mess for a moment, we both decided we should quietly get out of there before being spotted by one of those things. They weren’t so bad if it was just a couple, but dozens gets more than overwhelming.

So, we continued on our way. After cutting across another smaller highway, we came to another thickly settled area. However, this place seemed to be more sprinkled with infected loiterers. We approached with extreme caution.

After passing several blocks, we came to an intriguing scene. There was a car that looked like it was used very recently. The skid marks leading up to its parking space were dark on the pavement and very fresh. To say you could smell the burnt rubber would be a bit of an exaggeration, but I didn’t doubt that we only missed that sensation by a few minutes. Also, behind the car were two corpses that looked to have been bashed in the head with something, the pools of thick blood around them were definitely fresh and made us wonder if there were some survivors around.

The car was in front of a large brick factory building that looked otherwise void of people. After a moment of keeping ourselves hidden behind some trash cans on the other side of the street, a few of the infected came stumbling down the street. As Sharpe looked around for a few moments, he noticed something very strange. A man on the roof of the building, holding a gun and pointing it down to the ground.

We didn’t know his intention; whether he wanted to take the infected out or if he was going to take us out. We also didn’t want to take the chance that he took out the infected and then us by accident as I’m sure he hadn’t seen many people with a heartbeat walking down these roads lately.

So after a moment of watching him watch us or the road or the infected, I decided it was time to make him aware of our presence. I readied my gun, aimed and fired—taking out one of the Arthriphagy carriers. As the creature’s head exploded, it fell to the ground. Sharpe kept an eye on our mystery shooter as I took two more well-aimed shots, ridding us of the problem of the infected for the time being.

At this point, we had likely severely startled this shooter on the roof because as Sharpe watched him, he was frantically pointing his gun in all different directions. After a moment of realizing that this man was definitely no professional, I stepped out carefully, still holding my gun I. “Drop the gun!” I shouted to him.

From my vantage point, I could tell he was nervous and wasn’t about to fire. So, I lowered my gun and told Sharpe to do the same. Reluctantly, he followed my orders and did so.

“Take it easy up there!” I said once more.

Then, out of nowhere, the large front doors to the factory clicked and creaked loudly as they began to open. Immediately, Sharpe and I raised our weapons once more when we noticed that the man on the roof had run away.

As I began to sweat, not knowing what we had walked into here, the doors opened all the way and a man stepped out slowly.

“Freeze!” I said, aiming my gun cautiously.

BACK ON OUR FEET

PETER

W
e were all exhausted as we sat on the side of the highway. The sun was rising and none of us had the energy to move—but we had to. We had to get back moving and find some kind of shelter. There were figures moving off in the distance and we had no immediate plan.

Tara crouched down next to Jen and rubbed her back as Joey looked up and down the stretch of highway with me. A handful of the undead were lurking about in each direction. They probably didn’t know we were here yet, but it was only a matter of time. We observed the cars as well—scattered throughout the road, many with doors ajar and cracked up bumpers and sides.

“Should we try one of the cars?” I asked.

Joey looked around. “Seems like our best bet,” I said.

“Lots of gas tanks are probably empty and I’ll bet the batteries are long dead by now,” Mike said. “I was in a similar situation to these people and I don’t think I took the time to turn off my car when I had to take off.”

“We might as well check out a few,” I said.

Mike nodded and began walking onto the road and towards the nearest sedan. Joey and I followed, keeping a close eye on the lurking undead off in the distance.

As I began checking the idle vehicles, I noticed something moving inside a small sedan. Intrigued, and also a little nervous, I slowly approached the vehicle. At first, I thought it was a dog or something.

I peeked through the back windows and saw that it was a child that had been infected with the A. Phagy disease. He was buckled into the backseat and lacked the motor skills to unfasten the belt. I watched him for a moment as he slowly moved from side-to-side, trying to free himself from the safety harness that was now providing more safety than ever originally intended.

“Pete, you okay?” Mike asked.

“Yeah,” I said as I quickly turned away from the disturbing sight of such a young person succumbing to this sickness. “I was just checking the car. You have any luck?”

Joey then hopped into the driver’s seat of the oversized gas guzzling truck. Mike and I stood at the door and watched nervously as Joey slowly turned the ignition key. The engine coughed for a long moment and then rumbled to life. We were hopefully home free—or
somewhere
free.

At the sound of the engine starting, Jen and Tara both stared up at us with hope. I could see Jen wipe her face with both hands. She was broken after the loss of Sam, but she knew there was limited time to mourn.

They began to pick themselves up as Joey leaned out the driver’s side door and waved them over. There was no removing the smile on his face. Mine too.

Despite all the crap we had just gone through, we had caught a break; a working engine with a quarter of a tank of gas. Like I said, we were
somewhere free
.

JOEY

I
was psyched to have found the pick-up. Despite it not being the most ideal or sporty vehicle, it would work just fine for what we needed—a way out.

We were officially back on our feet. Jen and Tara piled into the extra small backseat of the truck while Peter sat in the passenger seat and I got the nearly forgotten pleasure of driving. Mike hopped in the bed of the truck and had his gun ready.

So, we got the truck going and headed down the road—I think we were heading north or northeast. Cars and the infected were scattered all over as I slowly drove through, trying not to hit anything.

The truck wasn’t in the best condition and we couldn’t risk stranding ourselves again.

As we drove through the chaotic highway, the undead hosts perked up like starving animals at the first sight of prey. Their mouths hung wide open as their weak looking arms flailed in our direction.

When I looked in the rearview mirror I could see Mike holding up his gun. He was quickly moving the weapon left and right and I could feel his fear as we got dangerously close to each of the undead.

As we continued through the still scene, which was once a fully functioning highway, we began to find cars clustered together more and more.

The exit was not far ahead on the right, but the paths between the cars seemed to bottleneck as we got closer. We could see the exit clearly and saw that no cars had been taking it as it was clear as day. However, getting onto the exit would be another story. The cars were either idle or had crashed all over the road, and it became questionable if we would have enough room to make it through.

Soon, we would have to come to a complete stop and survey the mess of cars and hopefully find a way through the wreckage. As we stopped, Mike shouted, “We’ve got to keep moving!”

Peter and I both looked back and saw that the dozens of infected people we’d passed were all headed our way. They were moving slow, but if they caught up to us, we would have to deal with more of them than we probably could.

“What should we do?” I asked.

Peter pointed to the last row of cars on the right. They were bumper-to-bumper—some literally touching bumpers—and very close to the metal guard rail. It seemed like our only route would eventually lead straight to the exit.

“Do you think we can fit?” Peter asked.

I shrugged and slowly pulled the truck in that direction. We were not going to fit. The opening was roughly a foot smaller than the width of the truck.

I looked around for a moment and saw no other opportunity. We could try to squeeze through, but if we became stuck, we could very well end up trapped, with no way out, waiting for the undead to snack on us.

“Just try it!” Mike shouted once more as the undead were getting closer and closer to the truck.

I looked back as I threw the transmission into reverse. Then, I backed the truck up ten or fifteen feet before I put it back into drive and slammed down on the gas pedal.

“Hold on!” I said.

The exhaust roared and smoked as we pushed the truck as hard as we could into the thin opening. Slamming into the small car in front of us, I was able to push it a few feet forward, creating enough room for us to squeeze into the little pathway.

With each side of the truck scraping up against the railing and the cars, we struggled as we slowly pushed forward. I could see Mike in the rearview mirror, struggling to hang onto the back of the cab as we jerked back-and-forth.