Chapter 11
A Shit Way to Die
Theo
There have only been a few times during my time on Earth that I’ve truly feared for my life.
One of those times was staring down the barrel of a gun from some gangster who was so high he couldn’t recognise that I was trying to help him. I can remember the cold sweat drying on my back, the twist of dread and fear in my gut and the sinking realisation that I could be taking my last breath.
Staring at the horde of zombies spilling over the cars reminds me of that near-death experience.
The same cold sweat, the same fear and dread knotting in my stomach and the dawning horror that I could be turned into a soulless undead monster within the next few minutes.
But, it’s not just myself that I’m worried about, but the three other people at my side.
“Move your fucking asses and head for the bank!” Rhys barks out, causing all of us to jerk out of our fear induced stupors.
Alex is already on the move, weaving through the cars while dodging the flying limbs and open maws of zombies.
Rhys and I are hot on his heels. Ollie forces Bean onward, but they struggle to navigate through the tight spaces between cars.
It’s slowing her down and if they don’t get ahead soon, that horde will tear her apart.
“Ollie!” I call out.
She whips her gaze over to me. She looks like she’s barely hanging onto her sanity, her eyes wide and glazed with fear and her lips pressed into a thin line.
“Ride her further down the road until the cars thin out. You’ll have a better chance of outrunning the horde that way.”
It takes a moment for my words to sink in, but once they do, she nods and digs her heels into Bean’s side.
The mare leaps forwards into a frantic gallop just before the first zombie can reach them.
Harlow surprisingly doesn’t follow. Instead she barks, snarls and attacks the first few of the undead horde that have reached us, slowing them down. While it helps, it’s not enough.
The horde slams into the maze of cars we’re navigating, crawling and clawing their way over the metal.
Inhuman moans, groans and the screech of nails and bone on metal fill the air.
The stench of rot is overwhelming, making me gag as I slam my knife into the eye socket of the nearest zombie.
It crumples to the ground only for another to take its place.
I fall into the fighting mindset I used when I did MMA, allowing muscle memory to keep me safe as I dodge attacks from the zombies and sink my knife into their brains.
It becomes almost like a dance; dodge and stab.
Dodge and stab. Over and over. It’s almost therapeutic, if the lives of me and my friends weren’t on the line.
But I can only fight for so long and fatigue is setting in.
My muscles scream in protest as I kill yet another zombie and dodge an attack from another.
In front of me is a sea of writhing, rotting bodies and to my left, Alex and Rhys aren’t in any better shape.
We’re all sweating and covered in blood, gore and other questionable fluids.
“Fall back!” Rhys orders as he viciously kicks a zombie before sliding his knife into its skull. “Follow where Ollie went and hope we can outrun these bastards.”
Solid plan. Except I’m fucking surrounded by the writhing undead and they’re all clamouring for a taste of me.
“Damn, if only I was this popular at school,” I say as I dodge a set of particularly grabby hands and dispatch the owner. “I would’ve got laid a hell of a lot more.”
“Is this really the best time to think about your dick?” Alex deadpans from the other side of the car I’m pressed up against.
“It’s as good a time as any other,” I say with a shrug as I put down another zombie. “Should we start reciting our biggest regrets?”
Alex just grunts, no doubt focusing on trying not to die like me.
“Okay, I’ll go first. I regret not taking that blowjob from Missy Hastings during our last school dance. She had the best fucking lips and, from what I heard, sucked like a Henry Hoover.”
“There’s really something wrong with you, Theo,” Alex grumbles as he gets some distance between him and the horde.
“No, I got tested, remember?” We all deal with high-stress situations differently. Mine just happens to be with humour; the darker, the better. It’s something I picked up during my days as a paramedic and while it can look cold and callous, it helps me from completely losing my shit.
Like I really want to right now because while Rhys and Alex have got some distance between them and the horde, I haven’t. The fuckers just keep coming.
“Theo, stop daydreaming about getting your dick sucked and get out of there!” Rhys shouts from somewhere behind me. I can hear the strain in his voice, the fear. He knows as well as I do if I don’t make a play soon, I’m toast.
I’ll be no more. Ceased to be. Expired and gone to meet my maker. Bereft of life. I’ll have kicked the bucket. Shuffled off my mortal coil. I’ll be an ex-person…
Okay, I should stop quoting Monty Python and figure out how to get out of this shit.
But it’s impossible to see an escape route when there’s nothing but walking corpses and cars.
No matter how many zombies I take out, another takes its place.
If I survive this, I’m sleeping for a week.
Rhys’s bitch of an ex-wife can fucking wait.
Then it dawns on me. If I can’t fight my way around the cars, then I’ll go up and over.
I turn and scramble onto the car I’m pressed against. Hands claw at my clothes and limbs, trying to pull me to gaping jaws waiting to take a bite. Fabric tears and dirty nails rip into my flesh, but I clamber onto the roof of the car. I allow myself a moment to catch my breath and look around.
Rhys and Alex are about fifty metres down the road, having got enough distance from the horde that they’re able to flat-out run.
Zombies are still trailing them, but they’re no longer in immediate danger, especially with Harlow snapping and snarling at any that come close.
Further down is Ollie, still on the back of Bean, looking like a fucking Valkyrie, with her bow drawn and arrows flying to end any zombie who gets close.
And then there’s me. Still in the middle of the horde with zombies clawing their way onto the car with me.
I run and leap onto another car, barely avoiding a hand aiming to grab my ankle as I land, hard.
Shards of pain slice through my legs and feet, making me grunt, but I don’t stop.
I launch myself onto another car and then the next one, and while I’m gaining some distance from the horde, it’s not fast enough.
My foot tangles on a chain connecting two cars together, causing me to slam hard onto the bonnet of a car.
I groan as pain ricochets across my arms and chest, but I shake it off to untangle my foot from the chain.
My foot gets loose just in time to dodge a zombie flying at me, maw open and ready to bite.
I hear Rhys curse. “Alex, Ollie, stay the fuck away from us and head toward the embankment. Don’t stop until you reach the top,” he orders before changing directions and charging toward me.
Now it’s my turn to curse because the stubborn bastard is going to get himself killed trying to save my sorry ass.
As soon as he’s within reach of the horde, he jumps up onto a car, grabs his rifle, and fires.
Until this point, we’ve all agreed not to use our guns.
Mostly to save ammunition, since that shit is rare as fuck.
But also because guns are loud as hell and can attract not only zombies, but other less desirable people.
Since we’re already in the middle of a horde, there’s no point worrying about attracting attention.
I slide my firearm from its holster and do the same as Rhys, firing shots at as many zombies as I can. But all too soon, the gun clicks, the mag empty. Only a dozen zombies lie dead on the ground and there are at least several dozen more clambering their way toward me.
Rhys is in the same predicament, having attracted his own fan club of zombies. At least there’s less on me now.
“This is a shit way to die,” I growl out as I kick and stab at any zombie that comes close. Even when faced with my imminent death, I have to make a joke about it. Maybe there is something wrong with me.
“Agreed,” Rhys says grimly as he does the same, his own rifle strapped to his hip, empty and useless.
“Well, it was nice knowing you, brother. Sorry I broke your Playstation Two controller while playing COD.” I pause to shove my knife into a zombie’s eye socket. “And your TV.”
“That was you? I thought Harriet did that.”
I snort and shake my head. “Nope. She agreed to take the fall for a tenner.”
Rhys lets out a bark of laughter. “Of course she did. She always had a crush on you when we were kids. Until she realised what a bellend you were and used you as a role model instead.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “Thank God she found Matt when she did.” The girl was in the late stages of her wild teenager years, especially after Rhys left for the military, but Matt was there to calm her down. Or at least make it so that she didn’t get arrested.
“Yeah…” He trails off, the mood turning sombre as he turns his thoughts to his younger sister and her family.
I don’t have any blood relatives left; the only family I have now is out here with me, so my thoughts turn to Alex.
Poor guy is like me, with us being his only family, and he’s about to lose us both.
Guilt gnaws at my insides as I try my best to fight my way out of this mess.
But it’s quickly becoming a losing battle.
Especially when a zombie grabs a hold of my leg and yanks me toward them.