Less Than Human (13 page)

But that would take time—time Otis decided he didn't have. Besides, he spotted a trail of footsteps leading away from Floyd's body. Four different sets.
They got away,
Otis thought.
Sumbitches got away and Floyd didn't.
The fact that the contestants had (so far) survived this apocalyptic obstacle course and his brother hadn't enraged him. He felt his face grow hot and it wasn't because of the orange globe in the sky or the bush on his face.

Otis marched on, following the contestants' trail, more motivated to claim a kill than he ever had been.

J
osh was not quite finished puking into a bush when Ben Ackerman strolled along side of him. He glanced up, a thick strand of upchuck hanging from his mouth. Ben loomed over him. He put his hand on Josh's back.

“
Is it the smell or the withdrawals?” he asked.

“
Both,” Josh answered. “I think.” Vomit exploded out of his mouth once again. “They're close? The zombies, I mean?”

“
About twenty paces back. It's hard to lose them.”

“
How many?”

“
Enough to give us problems if they catch up,” Ben said. “Plus, there's still two more Barker brothers out there.”

“
Unless Ross and his crew did as well as we did,” Josh said, sounding somewhat hopeful.

“
Yeah,” Ben replied. “But we can't be too sure of that.”

Josh brought himself to his feet, feeling a little better. His stomach remained uneasy. The feelings his body produced from the lack of drugs was still riding him like a pissed-off demon.
The dragon needs to be satiated.

Victoria and Paul Scott jogged over to them.

“Guys!” Victoria gasped, almost breathless.

“
What?” Ben quickly asked.

“
It's Ross and the others.”

“
What about them?”

“
They're in the middle of the field,” Paul said nervously. “Just standing there.”

“
What?” Josh asked. “Why?”

“
Dunno,” Paul said. “But they better do something quick. If the zombies don't get to them, those sick bastards are sure to find them.”

“
Shit,” Josh muttered. “Have they lost their minds?”

“
Sure as shit seems like it.”

Ben opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by a thunderous boom. It had come from the direction of the open field, where previous contestants' vehicles lay not-so-hidden. The four of them rotated toward the thunderclap.

Ben and Josh exchanged glances. Then they ran.

“W
here tha fuck ya'll think yer goan?” a familiar voice spoke from behind them. “Ya'll left my brother fer dead. What'dja ya'll think ya were goan just walk outta here 'live?”

Zombies limped toward them. Despite the approaching killer, the foursome continued walking towards the pack of corpses. Towards a longer, more agonizing death.

The shotgun bellowed. Over the stench of the dead, gunsmoke prevailed.

“
Stop moving, or I mow ya'll down right-fuckin' now!” Otis screamed.

Ross stopped, holding his son from taking another step. Tabby put her arm across her son's chest, stopping him from moving toward the zombie herd that had gained numbers.

Slowly, the four contestants turned toward their psychotic host. He gleamed at them, a wide southern smile spreading his fluffy beard apart.

“
Thas' better.”

“
Just get it over with,” Ross muttered. “That's the least you can do.”

“
The least I can do? Naw, naw. Ya'll let those fuckin' dead things tear my brother 'part. Ain't nuthin' but blood and guts left of him.”

“
We had no idea,” Ross said. “Please.”

“
We didn't even see your brother,” Tabby added.

“
Bullsheet,” Otis said, raising his gun. “I saws the arrows. He was trackin' ya'll. I ain't fuckin' stupid.”

“
Please...” Tabby pleaded. Tears rolled down her face. She looked over her shoulder. The dead were closing in. If Otis didn't hurry up and shoot them, she was going to have to make a run for it. She didn't have a choice. Running was better than becoming zombie food. At least it gave them a chance. “Please, just let us go... there's no need for this... madness.”

“
Don' think so, lil lady.”

Tabby cried harder. “Goddamn you... Goddamn all of you...” Behind her, she heard snarls. Then, something gentle—perhaps the wind—brushed the hairs on her neck. She screamed, grabbing Anthony's hand. She took off, toward the tree line, as fast as her legs could carry her.

Otis followed them, firing in their direction. As soon as the gun clapped, pain exploded into his kneecap. Before the big oaf knew it, he was on the ground. The gun flew from his hands. It landed in the tall grass, several feet in front of him. He wasn't exactly sure what had happened, but he knew he was hurt. He rolled over onto his back and looked down. His kneecap was not where it had been for the first thirty-eight years of his life. It had shifted to the side of his leg. Pain he never knew before infiltrated his body.

Standing over him was Ben Ackerman. Otis remembered smacking the stupid bastard over his head when he was in the middle of a very important phone call. Something about his ex-wife, or kid.
Sheet
, he couldn't remember. The pain that entered him overcame his thoughts. Ben waved a tree branch in the air, threatening his other knee.

“
Hi there,” Ben said.

“
You sumbitch,” Otis replied, then screamed when Ben took the branch to his other leg. He watched as his other kneecap became detached, floating to the side of his leg. Beneath his camouflage pants, he felt his legs become wet with blood.

“
My friend wants to shoot you,” Ben said. He nodded to Paul Scott, who held his brother's gun across his chest. “But you won't be getting off that easy.”

“
That's Cooter's gun,” Otis grumbled.

“
Not anymore,” Paul said, grinning.

“
Where he be?”

“
Let's just say, Cooter won't be going on any more hunts,” Paul boasted.

Otis rolled his eyes, grimacing. “You sumbitches.” He tried to move, but couldn't. His legs went numb and useless. He was too rotund to bring himself to his feet anyway.

“Now...” Ben said. “About a way out of here. I believe you have a certain pickup truck you'll no longer be using.”

S
he felt the bullet penetrate her leg, but kept running until the strength abandoned the lower half of  her body, causing her to fall. She ate a mouthful of freshly-dewed grass. Anthony screamed—a silent version of one. He fell to his knees next to her, flapping his arms wildly in confusion, not knowing what to do. The other bullets had just missed them, a few landing in the earth a only feet away. Panic set in. The only thing that made sense to Anthony in that moment was to cry and try to help his mother to her feet.

She wouldn't budge. She groaned in agony, flailing around on the ground like a fish in need of the ocean. Anthony helped flip her over and she shrieked, attracting the attention of a few nearby zombies.

“Son...” she rasped.

Anthony nodded, tears flowing steadily from his eyes. They gave his face a spectacular sheen.

“I love you...” she spoke softly, moving her lips slowly so he would understand. “With all my heart.”

Anthony nodded. Then he felt pressure on the muscle between his shoulder and neck. Then pain. All around him the dead appeared. They lunged for him, taking bites out of his arms and legs. He heard his mother scream as she thrashed around, trying to dodge the horde's attacks, failing. She, too, fell victim to their savagery.

The flock of zombies smothered their quarry, shredding through their tender flesh.

B
ehind him, the zombies gnashed their teeth in his ears. Ross turned, pushing away the closest corpse. “Run,” he told Landry. “Toward Ben and the others.”

“
I'm not leaving you!” Landry shouted back.

Ross turned to him, his face contorting. “Now!” he commanded.

Landry didn't disobey his father twice. He sprinted toward Ben, Paul, and the fallen hunter. He glanced over his shoulder and saw his father battling the zombies as they grew closer. The zombies fell like uncoordinated children. However, they immediately rose to their feet after stumbling to the ground. Ross realized his efforts were not only futile, but apt to get him killed. He followed his own advice.

A runner came sprinting out of the woods, moaning loudly. Blood caked the front of his tattered shirt. Ross noticed half of the fast zombie's face was missing. It had been stripped away, revealing puss pockets and decayed muscle. An eyeball hung from its socket, bouncing around spastically while on the run.

Ross noticed its target.

Landry.

“Hey!” Ross shouted. “Over there!” He was pointing to the runner, hoping that Paul heard him. He was the only one currently holding a firearm. “The runner!”

Paul looked up and saw Ross pointing, but it was too late. The runner had closed in on Landry, its arms outstretched and grabbing. Paul raised his gun, but by the time he steadied his aim, the zombie had tackled Landry to the ground. Screaming his son's name, Ross took off without caution. He prayed what he was seeing wasn't real, that this was all some strange nightmare they'd soon awake from. But it wasn't a nightmare and the zombie didn't hesitate sinking its teeth into the meaty flesh on Landry's shoulder. The kid screeched, a terrible cry that rattled Ben's nerves. The zombie twisted its head back and forth, making sure it had a firm hold of Landry's muscle. Then it snapped its head back, taking a mouthful from the kid's shoulder. Blood and sinewy matter flew in the air. Landry let out a scream that could've been heard in neighboring counties.

Ross stumbled, fell to his knees, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes. “No...” he muttered mindlessly. “No...”

Something that sounded like a crack of lightning interrupted the following silence. Ross flinched as the zombie's head jerked. Blood spurted out of the hole that appeared in the back of its head, the dead body falling onto the grass beside Landry. The boy squirmed back and forth, holding his shoulder. He whimpered, holding in screams.

Ross dug for strength. Once he was able to feel his limbs again, he hurried over to his ailing son. Landry wailed, unable to suppress it any longer. His blood soaked the ground beneath him. He was losing a lot of it, and fast. Ross took his shirt off. It wasn't exactly clean, but there were no alternatives. He tied the dirty shirt around the gaping hole in his son's arm.

“
He needs medical attention,” Ross said. Sobbing made his words almost impossible to understand. “We need to take him to a hospital.”

Ben and Paul looked at each other. Neither of them spoke.

“Now!” Ross screamed. “I said right fucking now!”

Josh came over to them. Victoria emerged from the tree line. For a minute they had forgotten about her and where she escaped to once they had disarmed Otis. They crowded around Ross and Landry, carefully keeping their eyes on the approaching zombie herd. They didn't have much time to waste. Zombies stumbled from the shadows the woods harbored, into the morning sunlight. They came from every direction, the shuffling crowd quickly gaining mass.

“What are you people standing there for?” Ross asked. “Do something!”

“
What would you like us to do?” Josh asked. “I don't mean to come off as insensitive, but what exactly
can
we do?” 

Ross turned his attention back to his son. Blood had already soaked through the shirt he had used as a tourniquet. It flowed from the wound steadily with no signs of yielding. Landry's eyes fluttered. The kid fought the darkness that invaded his vision.

“Stay with me, son!” Ross shouted. He slapped his son's cheek lightly. Then he put pressure on the wound with both hands. The bleeding continued despite his efforts. “Please...”

There was little that could be done. Except to wait out the inevitable. 

Landry was dead within minutes.

“I
hate to suggest this,” Paul said, “but we really should be moving.” He looked around. The dead encircled them. Their moans grew louder, their stench intensified. The group listened to the shuffling of many feet with instant dread.

“
I can't leave,” Ross muttered. He pressed his ear to Landry's chest. Nothing there. He raised his head, tears pouring down his face. He closed Landry's eyes. They would never open again.

Unless he comes back...

Yes, he would come back as one of them. Wouldn't he? Wouldn't he become a member of the dead parade that seemingly outnumbered the living? Ross couldn't allow it. He couldn't watch his son transform into a monster trapped between the world of the living and the world of the dead.