“Glad you’re alive, Captain,” one man called out.
Durkee saluted him and said, “You and me both!”
Above the soft chatter of those on the move, there were also the rising, sweeping voices of the dead.
I could swear the people began moving slower as the voices of the dead grew more distinct. These civilians had never seen revenants close, never heard them singing, never been the victims of a long hunt.
“Vibeke!”
Captain Durkee had apparently decided to get in on this mission—he was jogging up the driveway of a home across the street. “They’re coming,” he called out to me. “Move faster!”
Fucking shit. I was coldly rebuffed at the next house, and the one after that; even pointing at Durkee making the rounds across the street did nothing.
I decided to try a new tactic—that of hardened fighter—and used the STG to knock on the next door I approached.
It opened, revealing a group of teenagers.
“Hi,” I said.
They stared at me, evidently nonplussed by the sight of the gun.
I was so surprised by their youth that it took me a moment to gather my thoughts. “Where are your parents?” I finally asked.
“They were in Harkin,” the eldest of the bunch spat. He strode out onto the front porch and tried to knock the STG’s barrel aside. I held the gun firm.
“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded.
Oh, fuck this. I leveled the gun at his nose. “I’m here under orders. This street is being evacuated. Grab what you can and go to the main gates.”
“Why?”
I gaped at him for a good few seconds. “Because the zombies are coming?”
“Really?” The glee in his voice was unmistakable. He turned around to face his group, a broad smile slashing its way across his face. “Shit, boys, this is what we’ve been waiting for! Get your guns!”
“You have guns?” I thought Keller had cleared them all out.
His smile vanished, a scathing expression coming over his face. “Not all of us kowtowed to that shitsucking captain. We knew this day would come. And Clan Dragonhawk is ready for it. The dead are rising, and so are we!”
I cleared my throat. “I’m not sure that sounds the way you want it to…”
“I’ve got the AR!” someone chirped behind him. “Get me my binoculars!”
“Leave the safety on!” the kid in front of me barked. “This isn’t a fucking raid!”
Oh. I’d found gamers.
“You ever seen the undead?” I asked. “I mean, besides on a computer screen.”
He was clearly trying for a cold, battle-hardened stare, but the darkness of his expression was ruined by the clear glee bubbling up inside him. Here was a kid who had trained his entire life for this day. Granted, he had done most of his training with a video game console, but at last his moment was upon him.
“You know it’s not like a video game,” I said.
“Didn’t ask you.”
He shut the door in my face.
“Thanks,” I said. “I hope you get eaten.”
Gunfire bounced down the street, accompanied by Tony shouting. I forgot the other houses on my row and sprinted several houses down to the cul-de-sac at the end of the block, shoving through groups of migrating people and dodging around those who had just stepped out onto the sidewalk to see what was happening.
Tony was standing on the front porch of a pretty blue house. He knocked a zombie down the stairs and shot it in the back of the head. He did the same to another that came rolling out the door. Then another.
“It’s like a fucking clown car,” he said when I stepped over the bodies to join him. He stepped into the house, then put up his gun as another figure lurched out of the darkness. He twisted around, knocking the zombie to the ground, and then slammed the butt of his rifle into its forehead over and over again. Something cracked, and brain spilled outward.
A foul smell and thin wails broiled out of the house. My spine prickled, and I had to fight to make my feet move forward. “Holy shit.”
He stuck his head inside the house, then jerked it back out just as quickly. “There’s half-eaten bodies all over.”
“What happened?”
“You want me to make something up? Probably some sort of cult. You want realism? One guy got sick, they didn’t lock him up, and he turned on the rest of the house.” He pulled the door shut behind him, cutting off the worst of the smell. Something heavy crashed against it an instant later, rattling the entire frame.
A handful of people we hadn’t reached yet, no doubt attracted by the shooting and shouting, tentatively approached us. “Why are we being evacuated?” one of them asked.
I sighed. I’m of the opinion that if you are being evacuated in a place where zombies exist, it’s a good bet the zombies caused the evacuation…but we needed to be gentle with these folks.
I held a hand up, and the mutterings ceased. “Hear that?” I asked. The low undertones of the dead rumbled through the neighborhood.
They heard it. They just didn’t get it.