I’d been moving at a trot—faster than a walk, slower than a run—a pace I felt I could keep up for as long as I needed. Following the wheeler was easy; the wheels left a burnt smell on the hard packed ground that was simple to follow. The small sliver of Wolf Light was falling behind a distant hill when I got the first hint I was not alone. I began to hear twigs snap in the underbrush on the side of the road. At first it was distant and singular and then it grew in volume and numbers. By the time I chanced a look behind me, more than seven zombies were on the roadway coming after me. It was too much to hope that they were tracking the same two-leggers that I was.
I started running faster. I could do this for a while, but I got the impression they could do it forever. I was looking off to my side, deciding which avenue of escape would be best. To my right was heavy underbrush. I’d be able to move fairly quickly through it while they would get stuck. On my left was a small metal barricade and on the other side of that a somewhat steep drop-off. It looked like I could easily traverse it; the clumsy two-leggers, though, well…they’d be falling all over themselves and that sounded like some decent entertainment. I decided to go the way of the hill. I’d drawn up alongside the metal barricade and was just about to jump over when I spotted a wheeler not too far up. The burning-disc was just beginning to glint off the viewers. Three men were around it, and one of them was Icely.
Then I had a better idea, a much better one. The stupid cat would be so proud of me. Not that it mattered. I was going to lead the zombies right to them. I was getting tired, but hatred burns its own fuel, and I had enough of that to go around. It was Icely that finally turned in my direction. I was close enough to hear them.
“What the fuck?” he asked.
Schools turned when Icely spoke. “It’s the fucking Pied Piper.”
I didn’t know what piper meant, but I sure did like pie.
“Kill that fucking mutt!” Icely screamed.
“I think the zombies following it might be more of a concern,” Schools said, bringing up his bee shooter.
“Fuck them, kill the dog!” Icely demanded, his bee shooter waving around wildly.
I’d done my job. The zombies had seen the two-leggers and they were like Ben-Ben’s bacon to them. I was the cardboard-like dog food in comparison. I could probably stop running and be safe now—at least from the zombies, not the metal bees, though. I hopped over the barricade. I thought about hanging around but thought better of it. No matter who won, the victors would come looking for me afterwards and I needed to get some water, food and rest. In that order.
***
“Son of a bitch,” Schools said.
“Where’d the fucking dog go?” Icely asked. Shots were now ringing out.
“We need to get back in the car.”
“Screw that, I want the dog!” Icely shouted. “Did the zombies get her?”
“She jumped the guardrail,” Schools said as he started pushing Icely back towards the car. “Dent, let’s go.”
Dent was unloading his magazine into the oncoming horde. “Got to be dozens of them,” he said in alarm as he fumbled quickly with a jam.
“Come on, man, we have to go!” Schools said to the both of them. He was still trying to wrestle an unbelieving Icely into the car. “We don’t have the weapons or the position to fight that many!”
Schools finally got Icely into the back and Dent wasn’t too far behind. The zombies were within ten to fifteen feet when Dent’s door slammed shut.
“The fucking mutt led them right to us!” Icely yelled.
“It would appear that way,” Schools said with no small amount of admiration.
“My bitch of a grandmother had a dog, thing used to shit on its own damn bed it was so stupid. Not this dog though…no, we come across a fucking dog that’s read the Art of fucking War. What is this shit?” Icely asked, his question laced with doubt. For the first time since he left Vegas he began doubting his reasons for being there. “Just the crash from the drugs, that’s all.” He tried to prop himself back up.
“You say something, boss?” Dent asked. Schools noticed the man was fumbling around with his pockets. The car began to rock as zombies smacked into it from all sides.
“Yeah, I said get us the fuck out of here.” Icely did his best to keep the rising fear and dread from his voice.
“What’s the matter?” Schools asked Dent. The man’s face had paled considerably in the last few seconds. In truth he was starting to resemble the countenances of those that had completely enshrouded the car.
“I lost the keys,” Dent whispered.
“Fucking find them!” Icely screamed. Dent flinched.
“They’re on the other side of the street,” Dent said, pointing weakly to a guardrail they could no longer see. “I put them on top of my pack of smokes. That way I knew I wouldn’t forget them.”
“Hey, dipshit, maybe you could have just left them in the car. Ever think about that? Fucking moron. Well…go get them,” Icely said as if he was telling the man to get a loaf of bread at the corner store.
“Icely—” Dent started and stopped as the barrel of Icely’s gun pressed up against the side of his head.
“You’ll go get the keys or I’ll kill you. It’s amazing how simple things can be.”
“Icely, he can’t get over there now,” Schools said, trying to alleviate the mounting scene.
“You want to take his place?” Icely asked, waving the gun towards Schools.
Schools shook his head.
“Icely, please, man, I don’t want to get eaten,” Dent pleaded.
“I always told you cigarettes were going to kill your ass,” Icely laughed.
“If he opens that door, the zombies are going to get in.” Schools tried another tactic.
“You sure are sticking your nose deep into my business,” Icely said icily.
“Fuck you, Icely.” Schools squeezed the trigger of the gun he had pushed up to the back of his seat. Acrid smoke rose up from the burning material. A stain of spreading blood formed on the left side of Icely.
Icely was staring at Schools, seemingly in shock that his second-in-command had sworn at him or, for that matter, shot him, Schools was uncertain which. Schools angled his pistol to get another shot, but Icely was too fast bringing his own gun around. He fired, hitting Schools in the side of the head. Skull fragments struck the windshield as the deflected bullet broke through the heavy safety glass. Spider-web cracks radiated out from the strike.
“I’m-I’m…d-d-dying,” Schools stuttered involuntarily.
“Was it your brains leaking out that gave it away?” Icely asked. “Stupid fuck.”
Schools’ mind began to race through images of earlier and better times; anything it could grasp on to keep the reality of the unfolding event from panicking him. “The water is so warm,” he said with a faraway gaze.
“Stupid fuck,” Icely repeated as he drilled Schools in the forehead with another shot. Dent was staring in shock. “You haven’t got the keys yet?” Icely said, swinging his gun back around.
Dent fumbled with his lock. It took some serious force against his door to get it open against the press of zombies.
“Make sure you shut the door!” Icely laughed even as he heard the first of the zombies tear into his driver. “Bet that hurts.” Icely reached over the seat and pulled the door closed quickly while the zombies fixated on Dent.
“Help me!” Dent begged.
“Man, you’re already dead. Oh shit, look at this!” Icely brought his hand out of his pocket. “Shit, I had a spare key on me the whole time.” He pressed the key up against the window. An anguished Dent looked back. A zombie tore his left ear off as another bit through his side. He was dragged down to the ground. “The lesson of the day, kiddies,” Icely grunted as he climbed over the seat, “is to not trust anyone with your life. Once a cop, always a cop, huh, Schools?”
Icely started the car and barreled through the throng of zombies with enough force that some came up the hood and smacked down onto the windshield, further damaging the glass.
“I would have gotten us out of here…sure, after Dent got out, he was too stupid to live. I was doing evolution a favor. But you, man? What the hell?” Icely asked, propping up Schools’ head with the barrel of his weapon. “Nothing to say for yourself?”