24. Chapter 24 #2
It’s weird to be the only one out here but it’s also a boon because I don’t particularly feel up to sparring with a group of them. Still, I wonder if there’s life behind any of the curtains drawn closed as I approach my target.
How many people survived the initial incident only to die at the hands of their loved ones? Do we stand a chance against the numbers that grow by the minute?
Setting aside my worries for another time, I stop before the house I plan to enter.
The roof of the second story will provide the line of sight I need which is why I chose it despite the gory ass woman waving from the window.
I don’t see any shadows behind her, but it would be stupid to make assumptions.
A chill rolls down my spine as I ascend the stairs and make eye contact.
The woman or what used to be a woman tracks me like a fucking predator and I pause on the porch before glancing around.
I mean, these fuckers are creepy enough as it is, but this one is too .
. . something that I can’t put my finger on.
It could be because she’s not scratching at the glass or snapping her teeth in anticipation. Either way, when she cocks her head as I approach the door, I ignore the secondary chill and wrap my fingers around the knob.
It’s locked, of course and when I turn my head and meet her icy blue eyes boring into the side of my head once more, she bares her teeth.
“C’mon, Bo,” I say before stalking to the window on the opposite side of the door and pulling my weapon free of the holster.
The woman disappears from her perch in the other window, and I silently sigh as I bang the butt of my gun against the glass.
After a small crack forms, creating a web of lines, it breaks free and falls to the porch creating a pinging sound that inspires me to look over my shoulder.
With nothing to cover my movements, it’s possible that I’ve invited a new set of fuckers to head my way. At this point though, I’m too busy dealing with the bitch who jumps into my face with a hiss as soon as the barrier between us is gone.
Her fingers are curled into claws, and she once again cocks her head, swiveling it around while she watches me.
The preternatural move scares the shit out of me and when all the hair on my nape stands on end, I slowly raise the rifle, content with using the ammo I have little left of if it means ending this one’s life.
Bo whines behind me before emitting a low growl. When I move, her muscles coil and she drops down but I pull the trigger just as she springs, sending a spray of black, viscous goo to the floor behind her.
Ignoring the sweat slicking my back, I clear the remaining glass before stepping through the frame and assessing the room. Although I probably could have used a quieter method to subdue the woman, I’m about to climb onto the roof and purposely draw them in my direction anyway.
Once I’ve let Bo inside through the door, he moves around the mess with no need to urge him despite the woman’s fingers, still twitching against the floor.
Thankfully the remainder of the home is clear and after checking the last room on the second level, I slide through the now open window facing the funeral home before gazing over the area.
From here I can see the edge of the building and a few stragglers surrounding the fence. The remainder are hidden amongst the trees planted to surround the property.
Thankfully the fucker Shelby subdued had a high-powered rifle with a digital scope allowing me to check the area with more accuracy.
The first shot flies over the mass of gyrating bodies and I grunt my annoyance before moving to a new target.
My next two shots down a gnarly fucker with half his face torn off and a young woman who might have been a teacher.
It’s an assumption but her skirt and sweater seem too sweet to be anything other than one of the faculty at the boys and girls club.
Although they’re too stupid or maybe too far away to figure out where the shots came from, the sound sends them into a frenzy, and they lose their focus on the funeral home, stumbling away.
Thankfully it’s in the opposite direction of the area in the fence where we planned for everyone to go over, although we created two back up plans if that didn’t work out.
Now I wait, ensuring enough of the mob disperses to allow safe passage for the group and once I’m satisfied, I climb back through the window.
Bo wags his tail when I brush my hand through his fur as I pass him for the stairs.
Now that I’ve done my part, I need to get out of this house and around the block before any of those undead fuckers change direction.
My goal is to make a giant loop which shouldn’t take long, assuming I don’t run into any roadblocks. I chose a street two blocks north of the funeral home.
The streets form a giant square which means if I have to divert, there should be another route back around. I do worry that I’ve brought the horde into the neighborhood, but I can only control so much and so far, I haven’t seen anything to indicate there are people in the surrounding homes.
The old house creaks when I descend the stairs. Bo follows along, his head swiveling as he takes in the sights and sounds with his keen senses.
Comforted by his presence and the hunter that resides within the dog, once I’m outside, I turn left away from the funeral home and jog down the street.
Beyond the low rumble of them in the distance, the only other sound is my boots, beating against the pavement and the patter of the rain after the sky opened up a few minutes ago.
I wipe my brow as we approach the next street before slowing. Mostly residential, other than backtracking or hiding in another home, I need to go through to get to the truck in time.
At the intersection, I spy five of them loitering before a house, the front runner scratching against the window with an intensity that makes me pause.
Although I don’t see movement from the windows, there is or was something alive inside.
It’s the only reason these fuckers seem to find their focus and I decide to take advantage of their distraction, but I do slow as we pass, hoping to keep any sound to a minimum.
Bo’s ears perk but he doesn’t growl to which I wonder what he senses about these things that we don’t. Shit, even Bean who yaps at everything has been suspiciously quiet since they joined our escape.
It’s lucky the animals found us when they did. Rosanne was allergic to pet dander so we never had our own, but the two dogs couldn’t resist a new human to beg for affection every time I visited my neighbor.
I still remember the fire in her eyes the first time I came home after a particularly long night of shooting the shit, unaware of the dander covering my clothes while Rosanne began to sneeze and wipe away her tears.
She was so angry that she went to bed in a pout, but we made up the next morning in a delicious splay of limbs across the bed.
I think that was one of the last times she looked at me and I saw the woman I fell in love with. Still, the memory soothes my raw soul as I pass through the park we walked through two days ago.
The bodies of the dead we took out remain and I skirt around them with a silent sigh. It brings me no peace to end their miserable existence despite knowing that their humanity has long since gone leaving nothing but a ravenous husk behind.
Halfway through the park, the sprinkles of before turn to a full-on sheet and I brush the rain from my eye as I round the last corner and approach the truck.
Two small heads huddle beneath the carport which I assume to be Zoey and Amanda. As I get closer, Larry, Lance and Nate standing by the cab become clearer but when I don’t see the rest of our group, I ask, “Where’s Shelby?”
Nora looks away, her chin bowed to her chest, and I grab her arm, rasping, “Where the fuck is she?”