Chapter 26 #2
“There’s nothing here. Let’s check the other bedroom,” Keisha says, moving with purpose.
I follow her into what must be the farmer’s bedroom.
There are two more shotguns hanging on the wall.
I know they’ll only draw the carriers to us, so I leave them.
On top of the dresser are a few folding knives and another lighter.
I sweep them into my bag. Behind me, I hear Keisha rummaging through the closet.
“Anything?” I ask.
“Just clothes and old boots. Oh! Straw hats! I’m taking these,” she says. I can hear the smile in her voice. Inside a jar of change I spot a small tube of lip balm. It isn’t cherry flavored, but I know Keisha will love it. I tuck it into my pocket to surprise her later.
“Okay, let’s get out of here. If the carriers aren’t here yet, they will be soon, and this guy could come back any second,” I say. “Grab those pillows though,” I say, nodding toward the bed. Keisha complies with a big grin, knowing our canoe is about to get a whole lot more comfortable.
Once we’re outside, I look at our haul. We have a very big pile of food and supplies, and it’s instantly clear that it’ll be way too much for us to carry and maybe even too much for the boat.
We can’t risk two trips, but I don’t want to leave any of it behind.
The clock in my mind ticks. We’re running out of time.
“We’re going to need a wagon or a cart or something. Otherwise we’ll never get all this back to the river,” I say, my anxiety growing with each second we’re still here.
We check the garage for anything that will help.
It’s difficult to see in the dark, but a sliver of moonlight illuminates a shiny red wheelbarrow hanging from a nail on the wall.
Lucia spots it first, and we work together to lift it from its nail and set it onto the ground.
I steer it back to the bushes at the front of the house and we begin piling our supplies into it.
Before we can finish, a screech fills the air like nails on a chalkboard, followed quickly by another, then another.
Shit. I silently curse the farmer and his shotgun and his obnoxiously loud pickup truck too.
“They’re here,” I whisper. “Grab the wheelbarrow. Lucia, you help to hold it steady. I’ll cover you. Stay close.” Keisha nods, and we creep back toward the road. I cringe as the gravel crackles under the weight of the wheelbarrow, but it’s no match for the roar of the fire.
Smoke still fills the air as the chicken coop burns. I glance to my right and see the flames reaching toward the night sky. The fire illuminates the entire backyard, and soon I can see the source of the screeching.
Half a dozen carriers run disturbingly fast, screaming toward the chicken coop, throwing themselves against the burning walls, flailing wildly.
“Keisha, look!” I whisper. She pauses and turns to see what I see. The flames have drawn the carriers’ full attention, and with no sense of self-preservation, they’re burning themselves alive. Relief fills my chest, and I start to hope we might actually get away unscathed.
More and more come, drawn to the flames like a magnet.
I can’t take my eyes off the scene, and it ends up costing me.
I hear the quick footsteps before I see what’s coming.
My eyes dart away from the bright fire, looking for the source of the footsteps, but my eyes can’t adjust quickly enough to search the darkness.
I swing my machete on pure instinct, connecting with something I can’t yet see.
A second later the smell of rot nearly chokes me.
It’s a carrier. Which means that swipe of my machete isn’t going to slow it down.
“Quinn, watch out!” Keisha yelps from beside me.
My eyes finally begin to adjust, and the shape of a large, decomposing woman with a gaping chest wound comes back toward me with outstretched arms. I duck underneath her limbs, hoping she’ll follow me and not the sound of Keisha’s voice.
Luckily, she keeps her empty eyes on me.
When she turns, her face is illuminated by the fire beside us. The sight is horrific.
Her teeth drip with black bile, and the chest wound I gave her oozes with thick congealed blood.
The smell nearly chokes me. My body aches to turn and run, but I’ve seen these things move.
I’d never outrun her, even in that condition.
I breathe through my mouth and use every ounce of determination I have to move toward her.
I know the only way to gain the advantage is to get the carrier off her feet and onto the ground where I can reach her skull.
I use my tried-and-true method, sweeping my leg toward her knees.
She tumbles backward, and her head thuds onto the gravel road.
I move quickly, standing on her chest, feeling my boot sink into her chest wound.
I gag but manage to lift my machete high, then bring it down onto her skull.
It splits, and she goes still. I exhale, relieved, then use my boot to pry my machete from bone.
When my weapon is free, I turn to check on Keisha and Lucia.
“You okay?” I whisper into the darkness.
Keisha stands firm with her knife up. It drips in the light of the fire, and I look down to see a carrier lying motionless at her feet.
Pride fills my chest, and I can’t stop the smile that breaks across my face.
In all the chaos I had no idea another carrier had arrived.
I wish I could have seen it. I wish I could have seen her. She did it.
“I’m fine. We’re okay. Let’s move,” she says, smiling back, the thrill of the kill giving her a fresh glow. In that moment I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.
Lucia is glued to Keisha’s side, tears streaming down her face.
Lucia is unraveling more quickly than I would like, and, once again, I worry that she’s going to become a liability.
I shake the thought away. We need to move.
Keisha grips the wheelbarrow and pushes as fast as she can.
Lucia holds on to the side just in case it begins to wobble.
I keep my eyes out for more carriers, listening for the grumble of the farmer’s truck as we race back toward the river.