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Authors: D. A. Roberts
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left, and through the trees I could make out the shapes of cars. I motioned for Gunny to follow me and headed into the trees, careful to make as little noise as possible. Odin led the way, making hardly any sound at all. Once inside the tree line, we knelt down to conceal our presence from whom or whatever was up ahead.
I was down on one knee, just in case I had to get to my feet quickly. Slowly, I eased the safety off on the Henry, and then released the catch on the Army Colt. I already had a round chambered in the Henry, so I was ready to go. Gunny was checking his weapons, as well. Then he gave me a grave nod.
We didn’t have to wait long. Through the trees, we could see six zombies moving down the road. It was an odd assortment. They all moved slowly, like Shamblers , but that could be a trick. I’ve noticed that Sprinters tend to stay in groups with others until time to attack. Then their terrifying speed becomes apparent. The Shriekers did the same thing. Looks definitely could be deceiving.
Two of the zombies were dressed like deer hunters. Both wore woodland camouflage and boots. One still had a pistol strapped to his hip. Two were women, dressed fairly normally. One had been a tall red-head and the other a blonde of average height. The other two were men, dressed semi-professionally. Both wore khaki’s and button-up shirts. All of them had the usual horrific wounds to limbs, faces and torsos.
It appeared that they would just keep shuffling down the road without noticing us when something unexpected happened. One of the redneck-zombies stopped and started cocking its head from side to side. I shot a quick glance at Gunny, surprise on my face. He just shook his head in the negative. He hadn’t made any noise, either.
Then the redneck-zombie started moving towards the edge of the road. It seemed like it was sniffing the air. This was something completely new. I’d never seen a zombie track by scent, alone. Well, not unless the quarry was already bleeding, and neither of us was. I don’t know if it smelled us or the dog, but it was definitely following the scent of something.
When it reached the edge of the road, the other zombies noticed that it was no longer shuffling along with them and turned to follow it. This situation was turning bad, in a hurry. Once the redneck-zombie reached the ditch, it seemed to lock onto our scent and turned to look directly at us. Then it let out a blood-curdling growl and the others immediately keyed onto it and started coming towards us, only much faster.
It was officially crunch time. We either had to run like hell or risk firing our weapons. There was no way we were going to take six zombies with hand weapons while carrying this much gear. I didn’t wait to explain it to Gunny. I just raised the Henry and shot the redneck-zombie right in the forehead. It went down in a heap, spraying gore into the air behind it.
Gunny didn’t wait for an invitation, and started engaging targets of his own. He’d shot both of the business-zombies before I’d finished working the lever on the Henry. My second shot drilled the second redneck through the mouth, blasting teeth, brains and black blood all over the red-head. Gunny shot her next and she fell twitching to the ground. His shot had only clipped the spine, not the brain.
I worked the lever on the big Henry and shot the last zombie at less than ten feet away. Her momentum carried her forward a few more feet and she fell right in front of me. Gunny snapped off one more shot and ended red’s flopping. In the silence that followed, I could hear my heart thundering in my chest.
“We’ve got to get the fuck out of here,” hissed Gunny.
I
I was down on one knee, just in case I had to get to my feet quickly. Slowly, I eased the safety off on the Henry, and then released the catch on the Army Colt. I already had a round chambered in the Henry, so I was ready to go. Gunny was checking his weapons, as well. Then he gave me a grave nod.
We didn’t have to wait long. Through the trees, we could see six zombies moving down the road. It was an odd assortment. They all moved slowly, like Shamblers , but that could be a trick. I’ve noticed that Sprinters tend to stay in groups with others until time to attack. Then their terrifying speed becomes apparent. The Shriekers did the same thing. Looks definitely could be deceiving.
Two of the zombies were dressed like deer hunters. Both wore woodland camouflage and boots. One still had a pistol strapped to his hip. Two were women, dressed fairly normally. One had been a tall red-head and the other a blonde of average height. The other two were men, dressed semi-professionally. Both wore khaki’s and button-up shirts. All of them had the usual horrific wounds to limbs, faces and torsos.
It appeared that they would just keep shuffling down the road without noticing us when something unexpected happened. One of the redneck-zombies stopped and started cocking its head from side to side. I shot a quick glance at Gunny, surprise on my face. He just shook his head in the negative. He hadn’t made any noise, either.
Then the redneck-zombie started moving towards the edge of the road. It seemed like it was sniffing the air. This was something completely new. I’d never seen a zombie track by scent, alone. Well, not unless the quarry was already bleeding, and neither of us was. I don’t know if it smelled us or the dog, but it was definitely following the scent of something.
When it reached the edge of the road, the other zombies noticed that it was no longer shuffling along with them and turned to follow it. This situation was turning bad, in a hurry. Once the redneck-zombie reached the ditch, it seemed to lock onto our scent and turned to look directly at us. Then it let out a blood-curdling growl and the others immediately keyed onto it and started coming towards us, only much faster.
It was officially crunch time. We either had to run like hell or risk firing our weapons. There was no way we were going to take six zombies with hand weapons while carrying this much gear. I didn’t wait to explain it to Gunny. I just raised the Henry and shot the redneck-zombie right in the forehead. It went down in a heap, spraying gore into the air behind it.
Gunny didn’t wait for an invitation, and started engaging targets of his own. He’d shot both of the business-zombies before I’d finished working the lever on the Henry. My second shot drilled the second redneck through the mouth, blasting teeth, brains and black blood all over the red-head. Gunny shot her next and she fell twitching to the ground. His shot had only clipped the spine, not the brain.
I worked the lever on the big Henry and shot the last zombie at less than ten feet away. Her momentum carried her forward a few more feet and she fell right in front of me. Gunny snapped off one more shot and ended red’s flopping. In the silence that followed, I could hear my heart thundering in my chest.
“We’ve got to get the fuck out of here,” hissed Gunny.
I
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