“We’re fucked,”Gary moaned, tugging at his leash. The other end had been securely tied to a fire hydrant.
The dead fell one by one without a sound but others merely crawled over the inert bodies and continued with the advance. Ayaan and Fathia knelt together and spotted for one another, thinning out the ranks of those closest to us but even as their rifles snapped and spat more of the dead spilled out into the street. I could remember this place in happier times and just how crowded it had been then but it was nothing like this. The noise we made must have been drawing every animated corpse in the Village.
“If I kill enough,” Ifiyah shouted, “they can learn, andinshallah they will runaway!” I don’t know who she was talking to-she certainly wasn’t looking at me.
I moved back just to scout the side streets and saw that they were blocked as well-not with the solid wall of the dead that stood between us and the river but with dozens of straggling corpses moving toward us from every direction. To the east-away from the river and therefore farther from safety-the street looked relatively clear but who could know what we would find even if we ran now?
Right next to me one of the girl soldiers-a skinny one with scrapes on her kneecaps-switched her rifle over to full auto and sprayed bullets at the oncoming horde. Panic had gripped her-at this range it would be impossible to get accurate head shots firing that quickly-and Ifiyah moved quickly to smack at her hands and make her stop. She was wasting bullets if nothing else.
I could see the girl’s eyes as she felt the cold intensity of her commanding officer’s anger suffuse her. I had expected to see fear there but instead I found only shame. The soldiers were ready to die here if Ifiyah ordered it, certain that to die for a noble cause is better than to live without honor. They had never known anything else but this perfect discipline, this unquestioing subservience. They weren't old enough to understand that authority figures can be wrong, too.
Personally I’d rather live even if it meant having the word COWARD tattooed on my forehead. When the dead emerged from the side streets and began to flank us I snatched at Ayaan’s arm and howled into her ear our need to retreat. I figured if anyone could talk some sense into Ifiyah it would be her.
The air went out of me as the stock of her AK-47 slammed into my stomach. “You don’t give me my orders!” she shrieked over the noise of the company’s rifles. “You give no orders at all,gaal we’el! Sedex goor I tell you this, and still you chirp like a baby bird at me!Waad walantahay!”
The dead came at us thick and fast while I tried to get my wind back. They came right for us, never deviating, never turning aside. The bullets weren’t even slowing them down. Ifiyah ran back and forth shouting encouragement or abuse at one or another of herkumayo sisters. A dead woman in a green cardigan and wingtip shoes came up on her left, somehow having slipped through the cracks in the girls’ defense. She reached for Ifiyah trying to get a handful of her jacket, her headscarf, her flesh and she cut the dead woman in half with automatic fire, literally separating her torso from her legs in a roiling haze of torn skin and bone fragments.“Sharmutaada ayaa ku dhashay was!” Ifiyah howled, her face lit up with exultation.
The dead woman didn’t even pause. The second she hit the ground she began crawling toward Ifiyah again. The commander emptied the rest of her cartridge into the body but somehow missed the head. Before she had a chance to reload two skeletal arms were wrapped around her calf and broken teeth sank deep into her thigh.
Two of the girl soldiers pulled the corpse free from Ifiyah’s leg. They stomped on the dead woman’s head with the heels of their combat boots until there was nothing left but grey pulp. It was too late, though. Ifiyah clutched at her wound, her rifle forgotten, and gazed up at her charges as if looking for ideas.