Love in an Undead Age by A.M. Geever (good non fiction books to read .TXT) đź“•
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“We backed up from the edge because we thought it might be unstable,” Connor explained. “Maybe they were farther back, too.”
Connor glanced again at the cars on the other side of the divider since he couldn’t see through Gabe’s footrest to look for the turn. A bang on the roof made him start with alarm.
“The turn is just ahead,” Gabe yelled.
The Humvee slowed slightly, then took a sharp left. The remnant of the street was narrower and more cluttered with cars and debris than the highway. Mike slowed their speed rather than risk crashing as they bounced and jolted along. Grasses, trees, and shrubs filled the abandoned yards of enormous McMansion-style houses, forlorn with neglect. Connor opened the Humvee door and latched the carabiner clip on his belt to the loop inside the door as he stepped out on the running board. As they descended from the highway, the fog wasn’t as thick, but the landscape still felt ominous. Moans seemed to come from all directions, but mostly from behind. He ducked back inside.
“They’re coming.”
They rounded a sharp corner and the road straightened out. The Humvee picked up speed. Connor heard a pop, then another. The Humvee began to slow down.
“Mike, let’s go!” Doug cried.
“It’s not me,” Mike barked, frustration filling his deep voice.
The Humvee lurched to a halt.
Connor pushed the door open, Miranda close behind him. Mike was already on his knees as Connor dropped to look under the Humvee. Bright-yellow straps were wrapped around the axles like stretched out pieces of chewing gum, all connected to a round disc pulled taut against the Humvee’s undercarriage.
“It’s a SQUID,” Mike said. He deflated like a balloon. “This thing isn’t going anywhere.”
“What the hell is a SQUID?” Connor asked.
“It explodes straps that wrap around the axles to stop speeding cars. Police used to use them,” Mike said, distracted, as he got to his feet. He started scanning the street. “We need a different vehicle.”
Doug and Mario popped up on the other side of the Humvee.
“Grab what gear you can,” Doug commanded. “We’ll fall back and secure a house if we have to.”
Connor turned to Miranda. She had dropped the stone-faced mask she wore earlier. Her blue eyes flashed with determination.
“I’m sorry about before, Miri. I wasn’t saying that about you.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
She turned away and leaned in the Humvee door to grab provisions. Connor didn’t see any zombies behind them as he joined the others at the back of the Humvee, but the moans grew steadily louder. Gabe crouched in the cargo area, pulling out magazines for the .50 cal as Seffie yanked their supplies out of the opened back door. For a precious minute they devoured everything in front of them like hungry sharks, stuffing pockets and rucksacks until they bulged.
Gabe lobbed his rucksack at Doug.
“Take my bag,” he said. “The serum vials are in there, back center zipper pouch. I’ll get on the gun and buy you some time.”
Doug looked at Gabe for what seemed an eternity. “Thank you.”
Gabe shrugged and flashed an insolent smile. “De nada, Padre. No hard feelings. I’ll catch up when I can.”
Gabe climbed to his perch.
Doug said, “Let’s go.”
Delilah raced ahead. Seffie tripped and stumbled under the weight of her overloaded rucksack, but Mike pulled her upright. Doug seemed to take his lead from Delilah, veering them off the road to follow the path the dog blazed. Just before Doug ducked into the brush, the deafening chung-chung-chung of the .50 cal erupted behind them.
Connor looked back. A tidal wave of zombies shuffled around the bend in the road. The vanguard crumpled under Gabe’s gunfire, slowing the press behind them. Gabe aimed at the largest concentration of zombies, but it was not going to be enough. There were too many, coming from all directions, and zombies never got tired or winded.
Connor’s feet struck the ground. His lungs emptied and filled. The sharp report of the .50 cal remained steady and controlled, but he could feel Death’s breath tickle the back of his neck.
All she could hear over the rush of blood in her ears and the rasp of her breath were moans. Connor’s stride matched her own. Slowing down, she thought, they never slow down. Delilah ran at Miranda’s side, inches of pink tongue exposed from her exertions.
Miranda risked a look over her shoulder. They were in sight again, hundreds of zombies, tripping and lurching toward them, getting closer. Gabe had slowed the hoard down, but it wasn’t enough. The fleeing humans were attracting zombies from other directions, too. A few times, they had needed to dispatch one that got too close. Soon they’d all be too close.
“Son of a bitch!”
She saw the downward arc of Mike’s machete. Disgust and fury filled his face, darkening his brown eyes almost to black. Mike yanked his leg free, checked his ankle, and kept running.
Miranda glanced down as she passed the spot. A wasted form still in a diaper, like a grotesque child’s toy, its head cleaved in two.
Connor slowed as he looked. “Oh God, a baby.”
“That hasn’t been a baby for a long time.”
She yanked on his arm and he picked up the pace. Ahead, Doug scanned the houses along the street. Zombies straggled down from the forest on all sides. They only had a few minutes more before they would be surrounded.
Given the housing bubble and building boom in the years just before the ZA, Miranda could not believe they had managed to get stranded in an old neighborhood like this, full of one-story cottages set far apart amongst the redwoods on a twisty mountain road. They would have been better off back in one of the newer houses where the Humvee got stuck. They needed to get above ground level.
They reached a spot where the narrow road crossed another. “Got one!” Doug yelled. “The blue house!”
Miranda could see it: a plain mid-century house with blue vinyl siding. The house sat at the top of a steep rise, but the prospect of refuge energized everyone. Sensing the group’s excitement, Delilah raced ahead, then backtracked to bark encouragement.
Miranda grabbed Delilah’s collar as they stopped on the small stoop.
“Miranda, Mario, Seffie, clear the second floor,” Doug panted. He stood in front of the door, handgun drawn. “The rest of us will clear the first.”
Mike opened the door. Doug and Connor ducked inside.
“I’ll take point,” said Miranda.
She paused inside the door, squinting into the shadowy interior. Except for a layer of grime and an overall sense of neglect, the house seemed intact. Doors banged and intermittent shouts of “clear” came from other rooms as Doug, Mike, and Connor checked the first floor.
The stairs creaked beneath Miranda’s feet as she, Mario, and Seffie hurried to the second floor. At the top of the steps, four closed doors ringed a central hallway.
“That’s probably the bath,” said Miranda, gesturing to the door opposite the stairs. “I’ll take the room on the left, you two get the ones on the right. Whoever gets back here first, check the bathroom.”
Seffie and Mario moved into position.
“Now.”
The doors behind her banged open as Miranda pushed the door in front of her open. The room was suffused in gloom apart from narrow strips of light seeping in around the curtains. She pressed her back against the wall and slid over to the window. Filmy light filled the room as she tugged the curtains open.
Miranda jerked when a shot rang out from across the hallway, then Mario called clear.
There was nothing in this room. No furniture, no bodies, not even a rug. The sliding doors of the empty closet were missing.
“Downstairs clear!”
“Clear,” Miranda called as Seffie did likewise. She shrugged out of her heavy pack and dropped it to the floor.
“Bathroom’s clear, too,” Mario told her as she entered the hall. He swayed, his eyes unfocused.
“Upstairs clear!” Miranda yelled down the stairs. She turned back to Mario and Seffie. “Are you okay, Mario?”
“I’m fine,” Mario said. He took an unsteady step toward the stairs and collapsed.
Miranda darted to Mario’s prone form on the floor. His eyelids fluttered as she and Seffie knelt beside him. His pulse below his jaw was strong and steady against her bandaged fingertips. He opened his eyes and looked around, confused.
“What happened?”
“You passed out,” Miranda said, her nerves too frayed to pretend she wasn’t worried. Mario dying was all they needed. She pushed his tangled hair out of his eyes so she could make sure his pupils weren’t uneven.
“I’m fine,” he said, waving her away, but his clammy gray skin did not bolster his credibility.
“You lost a lot of blood when you got shot, and you’re probably dehydrated,” Miranda countered. “And you have rib fractures.”
“I wonder how that happened. I’m not going to die, Miranda. Not soon enough to suit you.”
Miranda recoiled, remembering what he had said at the reservoir. She had made a mess of things. She was angry with Connor.
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