5. Chapter 5 #2
However, as we continue our trek, I stare at my shoes. Will I ever respond to an altercation without the instinct to flee? My life with Ben only took up three years but the things he forced me to learn are so ingrained, it might as well have been a lifetime.
These are the thoughts that circle my brain as trees turn to fallow fields, and we cross the occasional road which we bypass by unspoken agreement. Up and over fences we go and through more trees and fields and beyond.
In the distance, I spy homes interspersed with land and rolling green grass but without knowing what might linger inside, I’m glad to avoid the specter.
I’m starting to fade as, cautiously, I step through the debris left by hundreds of years of falling trees, but my counterparts are not so circumspect, and the footfalls draw attention before we can change our course.
“Over there,” Nora whispers, pointing to just beyond another small incline, where I see the weaving bodies that mean nothing good.
“Shit,” Cason swears and Larry nods, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
My heart jumps into my throat when the frontrunner turns.
Thankfully, I can’t see much beyond the branches and nature between us, but what I do see is more than I need.
This poor soul’s jaw hangs from the joints by what can only be a thread of sinew and muscle, leaving the teeth on the top a gaping maw of blackness and, ugh, bone.
My preference would be to run but when the group slows, I do too.
The wet sound of it’s groans sends a chill through me, and I glance down, grabbing a hefty branch from the forest floor.
It’s got a spray of smaller branches leading off from the main part but it's long and my arms protest the weight, so it’s strong.
Cason slows and raises the gun, but he hesitates because more noise will only bring the masses. Meanwhile the group spreads out and although my heart is beating violently in my throat, I swallow past the fear and step forward, swinging with all I have.
When the branch scrapes across the poor fucker’s cheek but doesn’t deter him, I suck in a breath, and swing again. I’m not exactly physically fit unless you count running from my piece-of-shit husband and absently, I consider my ability to even last long in this world when my arms tremble.
You’re a useless cunt. Ben’s acidic tone rebounds in my head and I whimper because the useless, stupid, pathetic part of me that allowed that rotten asshole to rage wants to throw in the towel, but I can’t.
I won't let Ben’s nasty words be the last thing I hear before I die.
Today or at least right now is not that day.
“Fucker,” I whisper on a broken sob before slamming the branch into his face again.
This time, he drops like a top and swings his arms around. It’s only a matter of time though before he'll roll back to a standing position although coordination does not seem to be one of their strengths.
When Cason steps past me, I glance at him sideways and wipe my brow. Unfortunately, what’s left of the contents of my stomach swishes around when he proceeds to stomp on our assailants head once, twice, three times before it stops wriggling around.
I know it’s them or us but the brutality of what I just witnessed leaves me breathless. I don’t get the chance to process it because the next one appears between the trees and Larry shoves it in the shoulder where it staggers back before dropping to the ground.
Unfortunately, another half dozen emerge in those few moments.
There are too many to fight. Now we have to try and outrun them, which I hate to do because they’ll stalk us anyway.
It’s far preferable, my noodly limbs concede though and I drop the branch, pick up Bean and follow as Nate leads the way.
The sun beats down on us before we move under a canopy of branches before emerging again. Without the sunglasses I stole what feels like a lifetime ago now, I’m forced to squint against the brutal rays.
My heart still thumps wildly, and I breathe deeply which does nothing for my panic. How much can your heart take before it gives in? Wasn’t the last fucking three years enough? Is this karma?
I think my muscles are completely numb when we reach the end of another field and step back into the trees.
Once again, my eyes struggle to adjust while I dodge limbs and fallen logs.
This area is denser than those from before and I’m just turning back to see if we can go around when I hear someone grunt in front of me.
Of course, I walk right into Larry’s outstretched arm and stumble back, clutching Bean to my chest. When he doesn’t so much as twitch, I move to the side and freeze.
Poor Hank, who’s now on his hands and knees, raises his head and meets my gaze, his mouth open in a silent scream. The ravenous grunts of his attacker are the only sound and a shiver rolls through me when the dead, or undead bastard emits a shriek, more animal than human.
Do these things feel? Or was that the sound of an animal celebrating its kill?
Unfortunately for Hank, the former woman’s dark jeans and flannel blend almost seamlessly with the forest floor, a reminder that nowhere is safe as long as these creatures live.
More disturbingly, it took mere seconds for Hank to lose his life, and I cover the keening sound coming from my own lips when the former woman with pale blonde hair and gnashing red lips pulls Hank forward and bites into his neck with vicious intensity.
It shouldn’t be possible to tear into a human’s skin that easily but nothing about this shitty new world makes sense.
Strangely it makes me think of a documentary once detailing the power of the human jaw. We were all once animals at some point. The only distinguishing factor between humans and savages was our supposed humanity. With that ripped away, what’s left but the predator beneath?
Everything up to this moment felt like a slow-motion dream until Hank’s screams pierce the air followed by a guttural groan.
When Cason swears quietly before gently pushing me forward, I bow my head and follow Nora's stiff shoulders blindly. There’s not much I can say to make this shit storm better and I guess I’m not going to have to lie because Cason says over my shoulder, “There’s nothing we can do.”
It’s true. Even if we killed Hank’s attacker, he’s going to turn. Perhaps it was cruel to walk away but survival is paramount, and we can’t afford to take extra risks.
He’s dead either way. Just maybe not in the form he anticipated when he thought of the end. Do their souls go to heaven or are they trapped in those bodies for an eternity?
Pressing my fingers to my lips, I pull my thoughts away because going down that road will lead to sure insanity. This is fucked up enough as it is and the day isn’t over yet.
To my right, I spy more of the fuckers weaving between the trees. Whether it was Hank’s cries or that fucker’s weird animal call, our cover has been blown. Once again, we don't have time to waste, and I mentally groan as we silently agree to pick up the pace.
Dodging fallen logs and swaying limbs, I jog behind Larry, searching the ground militantly for more of them.
Of course, in no time, I’m out of fucking breath but to slow means death, so I keep going and going. However, the stumbling, crunching, moaning presence of them creates a buzz in my ears and before too long, I'm mumbling, “Shut up. Shut the fuck up.”
The words drop from my mouth over and over until Cason appears beside me, his dark eyes assessing mine. The man must be a machine but I’m not complaining because one of us needs to maintain their composure and it clearly isn’t me. I manage to muster a wan smile though when he says, “Easy.”
Exhaling slowly, I close my eyes. I can do this. I can. Of course, stupid move because before I know it, I’m on my knees, forcing Bean to jump away with a yelp.
While I sit there dumbly, staring at the offensive log that did the honors Cason says, “Shelby?”
“Hm?” I mumble before pushing to my feet. The movement sends a shard of pain through my ribs, and I stifle a groan which turns to a gasp when Cason touches my arm.
With my heart in my throat, I flinch away while he raises his hands. When an awkward silence descends between us, I dip my chin and whisper, “Sorry.”
“You, okay?” he asks, cocking his head.
No, I’m not okay. I don’t think I'll ever be okay again, but I’m pretty sure he's not asking about my mental status, and I don’t want to speak about my inglorious fall or how I flinched away from him like a beaten dog.
Instead, I brush off my knees, glance behind him and nod before marching forward.