Pathogen - Chapter 13

The zombies were staggering towards the house with a dark purpose. It would only be a matter of time before they had the house surrounded, and the four friends were already feeling trapped.

“We have to get out of here,” Aaron insisted.

Steve had to brace his arm against the wall to help get to his feet. Unsteadily, he reached out to take the cart of provisions. He’d broken out into a sweat and his skin had taken on a gray hue.

Cliff noticed his friend’s unwellness. “Are you going to be okay to move?” he asked with genuine concern.

Meeting Cliff’s gaze with a glossy eyed stare, Steve asked, “Does it look like I have much of a choice?”

No more words were exchanged, because there wasn’t any time to waste. Together, the four friends ran down the stairs, hoping to escape out the back before the house was surrounded by zombies. Aaron was the first to make it to the first floor, and as he leapt from the bottom step into the kitchen he could hear glass shattering. The walking dead were making a mess of the picture window and were fighting against each other to clamber into the living room.

The gang didn’t look back and ran straight for the sliding glass door in the kitchen. The blinds were pulled across the window, and Aaron neglected to look through them before he threw the door wide. To his dismay, a zombie was standing on the other side and lunged for him. Aaron tried to slam the door shut, but the dead man’s arms were already through. They wrestled with each other, Aaron trying to get the door closed still while the zombie fought to get inside.

“Get out of the way!” Cliff bellowed as he ran for the door.

Aaron took a look over his shoulder and saw his friend running straight for him. He scrambled out of his friend’s path. Without Aaron to hold the door shut, the zombie succeeded in pushing the door wide enough to get inside. In that moment, Cliff leapt straight for the zombie. With an outstretched hand, he seized the dead man by the face and allowed his momentum, and their combined weight, to carry them into the brick patio. The zombie’s head split like an overripe melon.

Rushing through the open door, Grace, Aaron, and Steve ran into the night air while Cliff picked himself up. They could see zombies shambling towards them in the moonlight, coming around either side of the house.

Cliff spotted the shotgun he’d foolishly left outside, propped up against the corner of the house. A zombie was between him and it, and Cliff fumbled through his pockets looking for his baton. Aaron noticed Cliff’s situation and stepped up to help. He whipped the handgun from his pants, took careful aim at the zombie’s forehead, and turned the gun sideways for dramatic effect. Pulling the trigger, he was rewarded with a dry clicking noise and panic.

“What the fuck?” he asked as he backed away from the approaching zombie, “Why won’t it shoot this time?”

“You have to chamber the round,” Steve explained.

“Chamber the what?” Aaron couldn’t think clearly.

“There’s no bullet in the gun, they’re all in the magazine.”

Aaron was completely lost, “But I put the bullets in the gun,” he insisted.

Cliff had finally retrieved his baton and had it unfolded with a flick of the wrist. He set upon the approaching zombie, swinging in terrifying but deliberate arcs. While he was protecting his friends’ safety, Steve snatched away Aaron’s gun.

“Why did you want this thing so badly,” Steve shouted at his friend while he pulled back the slide to allow a bullet to leave the magazine and enter the receiver, “If you can’t even fucking use it?”

With one final swing, Cliff cracked the zombie’s skull. It fell heavily to the ground, and Cliff wasted no time stepping over it. He snatched up the shotgun and stepped back to be huddle in with his friends.

Grace was watching Steve lose his temper at Aaron, but at least he returned the firearm. “Steve,” she asked uncharacteristically meekly, “Do you want my rifle? I think you’d know how to use it better than I could.”

“No thanks, I don’t think I could hold it steady right now. I’d never be able to hit anything,” he explained as he turned around, “Oh shit! Look out!”

Steve was pointing at something behind Grace, and she whirled around to see what it was. She wasn’t terribly surprised to see the zombie a few feet away and raised her rifle. The barrel was practically touching the zombie’s head when she pulled the trigger. The back of the skull blew out and the man fell over dead once more. Remembering how Mrs. Withers had operated the gun earlier, Grace pulled the bolt back and chambered a fresh round.

“You’re a natural,” Steve complimented her.

“We really don’t have time for this,” Cliff interrupted, “We have to get out of here.”

Aaron was the first to start running, and he took off diagonally across the yard. “This way,” he hollered over his shoulder to urge his friends to follow him.

He was hoping to lure the zombies away from the car. They could then run around the neighbour’s house and double back to the street. The Withers’ property was surrounded by a white picket fence a scant three feet high, which he hoped might impede the zombies a little. However, he knew he couldn’t put much faith in it. For all he knew, they’d just plow into the thing.

Being the first to arrive at the fence, Aaron placed one hand onto the fence as he ran. Swinging his legs up, he vaulted over the obstacle. Grace and Cliff were only a few paces behind and stepped over the fence when they arrived. Aaron had already taken off running across the neighbour’s yard when Steve arrived at the fence. It was a tremendous effort for him to wheel the cart over the grass, but now he wasn’t sure if he could get their supplies over the fence.

The zombies were fast closing in while Steve struggled to overcome the obstacle. He groaned as he hefted, and grunted as he heaved, but he just couldn’t lift the basket more than a few inches off the ground. Illness had made him weak, and he despaired. The lead zombie was only a few paces behind him now, and Steve felt melancholy as he realised he was going to let his friends down.

Cliff had noticed his dire straits, however, and had rushed back to his rescue. “Duck,” he ordered as he levelled the shotgun at the nearest zombie.

Not needing to be told twice, Steve immediately dropped to the ground and wisely covered his ears. A split second after he was clear, a deafening report and a brilliant flash erupted from the barrel of the shotgun. Scattered pellets travelled at an incredible velocity and caught the first zombie full in the chest. The sheer force of the assault carried the zombie, throwing it bodily to the ground a few feet away. It wasn’t dead, but Cliff had bought Steve a few precious moments.

Steve climbed to his feet and found Cliff waiting for him with an outstretched hand. He took up the offered hand, and allowed his friend to help him over the fence. Cliff then reached over the fence again for their supplies. He dragged them over the fence with a grunt, and set them down in front of Steve.

“Let’s get out of here,” Steve suggested as he took up the cart once more.

Nodding, Cliff couldn’t agree more. Together they ran to catch up with Aaron and Grace, who had just rounded the corner of the neighbour’s house.

Aaron was running between the side of the neighbour’s house and a taller privacy fence with Grace following a few feet behind. His path was totally clear until a zombie staggered around the corner to him. Without breaking his stride, he raised the gun. Pushing the barrel into the zombie’s face, he pulled the trigger. The gunshot was louder than years of video games had led him to believe, but the zombie fell over dead all the same. Beaming, Aaron was happy that the gun finally had worked for him.

Together he and Grace ran into the street. Vernon was across the street and to their left, and there wasn’t a single zombie between them and it. However, there were still a number of zombies milling around the Withers’ porch. They’d heard the gunshot a moment ago and were beginning to shamble towards Aaron and Grace.

Putting on a burst of speed, Grace fished her keys out of her coat pocket. “Hold them off while I get the car running,” she called out to Aaron.

With a nod, Aaron agreed to the plan. While Grace crossed the street at an angle to meet the car, he ran down the sidewalk to stop in front of the Withers’ house. Planting his feet firmly against the pavement, he raised the gun to take aim at the nearest zombie. Unsure of the range he could be accurate to, he waited for the zombies to get closer.

Steve and Cliff were running now, following the path between house and fence that Aaron and Grace had used. Burdened by the heavy cart, it wasn’t long before Steve fell behind Cliff again. Gritting his teeth, he redoubled his efforts. Keeping up took everything he had, but Steve had resolved not to be a burden to his friends.

As noble as Steve’s ambitions were, his body screamed in protest. The moment his feet hit the pavement of the street, Steve knew he’d pushed himself too hard. With blurred vision and an overpowering sensation of dizziness he struggled to keep his heading. It was impossible, and barely a moment later Steve stumbled, tripped, then fell. Although he didn’t feel anything when he hit the ground, Steve was dimly aware that it should have really hurt. Another wave of nausea washed over him as his stomach heaved. He tasted the toxic flavour of bile and saw the yellowish brown liquid escaping him.

Lifting his head was a struggle, but Steve fought hard to get a look at his surroundings. He was having trouble focusing, but he was sure that he could see Cliff and Aaron standing together in front of the Withers’ house, guns at the ready. Cliff’s shotgun’s muzzle erupted in a brilliant flash, and Steve heard a deafening report that to him sounded hundreds of kilometres distant. He couldn’t see Grace anywhere, and fought to turn his head the other way. A lone figure was moving towards him, and at first he thought this must be his missing friend. A moment later the truth dawned on him: it was a zombie arriving late to the party.

Placing his palms flat on the asphalt beneath his shoulders, Steve tried to push himself up. His arms trembled and shook, and the dizziness became a hundred times worse. Slumping to the ground in defeat, Steve tried to call for help. No words would come to him. Inwardly cursing, he tried again to rise to his feet, but once more he ended in failure. His gaze was fixed on the approaching zombie. Steve knew it was death coming to claim him, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

His only job had been to carry their food, but Steve knew he was going to let his friends down. The very notion infuriated him, and his fury found a voice. With a roar, he tried once more to gain his footing. Pushing against the road with everything he had, Steve could only lift himself above the ground a few inches. His arms buckled underneath his weight, but he had succeeded in pulling his right foot beneath him. With a push, he lurched unsteadily to his feet. Incredibly dizzy, he couldn’t help but stumble a few paces before finding his footing.

Whirling around to face the zombie, Steve was only mildly surprised to find its outstretched hands a few inches away. In as fluid a movement as he could muster, Steve yanked from his pants the knife he’d traded with Aaron for his gun, thrusting it at the oncoming zombie. In a moment, it was buried to the handle beneath the zombie’s chin. The blade had lodged itself in the brain and the zombie immediately became deadweight. Steve made no effort to retrieve his weapon, for he knew he didn’t have it in him to fight anymore.

Miraculously, the cart of provisions had managed to remain upright. Steve took up the handle and dragged it behind him, slowly working his way to Vernon.

Aaron looked over at the approaching figure. For a moment, he mistook Steve for a zombie, and raised his gun at him. It was an easy mistake to make, with Steve’s ashen countenance and harried gait. Seeing the cart he was pulling, Aaron realised his mistake and hoped he wouldn’t have to tell Steve he almost shot him.

Steve had a much easier time rolling the cart on the pavement, which he supposed was its intended purpose. It wasn’t long before he arrived at Vernon. Wrenching the back door open, he crawled inside and struggled to pull the cart in behind him.

While Steve struggled to secure their supplies, Grace was wrestling with the starter once more. She had tried a dozen times already to get the engine to turn over, but Vernon just wasn’t having it. Burying her head in her arms against the steering wheel, Grace admitted defeat.

“Car trouble?” Steve piped up.

“It won’t fucking start,” Grace explained.

“It definitely won’t start if you don’t keep trying,” Steve pointed out.

“What do you know?” she spat.

“I almost died a minute ago,” Steve shrugged, “Nobody noticed, and they probably wouldn’t have until they found the zombie eating my face. But I kept trying.”

Grace asked in surprise, “You almost died?”

“Yup,” Steve nodded, “And I’m definitely going to if you don’t get this car running.”

Although she wasn’t facing him, Steve could still feel Grace’s eyes on him. He had to admit that she had a very potent glare. Still, he had goaded her into trying again, and together they hoped she could get Vernon running.

Outside, the boys had amassed a sizeable collection of zombie corpses. Aaron aimed once more at the nearest zombie, double checked to make sure he had the shot lined up, and pulled the trigger. The anticlimax of a dry click startled him.

“Steve,” he shouted, “Not working!”

“Out of bullets,” Steve diagnosed. Fortunately, he hadn’t closed the door he’d climbed through yet, or else the two of them couldn’t converse in this fashion.

“What do I do?” Aaron called back for directions as the zombies still approached him.

“Hit them with your gun,” Steve suggested.

“I’d like to,” Aaron agreed as he stepped away from the zombies, “But I’m out of bullets!”

The nearest zombie was only a few paces away when Cliff stepped up. Demonstrating Steve’s point, he slammed the stock of the shotgun into the zombie’s temple. Its skull caved in and the zombie fell over.

“Oh,” Aaron remarked sheepishly, “I understand now.”

Vernon chose that moment to spring into action. After countless attempts with the faulty starter, the engine finally caught and turned over. Grace signalled their imminent departure with two swift blasts of the horn. Aaron and Cliff looked up to see their chariot awaiting. They bolted towards the car without another word.