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I killed a puppy - murdered it, actually. I shot it right between the eyes with a gun and didn’t feel even a little remorseful. It didn’t bother me. In fact, at the moment of pulling the trigger, it was the right thing to do.
Awaking to tears on my cheeks, I couldn’t remember when I last cried. It must have been a year before or even longer, when little Julie Rayzor was just an innocent pup herself. Sleep escaped me the rest of that night. I dried my tears and slowed my breathing to avoid waking anyone else up. To pass the time I listened to the sounds of the military hospital compound that we called ‘Fort Tulsa’. Through the barricaded windows set high-up in the warehouse I saw the September sky as the false dawn forewarned of the coming morning. I thought that the night patrols should be back soon[t1] , and maybe Jim Barnett would return from his mission. It had been three days with no word.
We moved into the street - which street we were on, I did not know. We were lost in the dark. The moon was the only landmark and near its peak, it told me only which way was north. Escobar helped Conners walk, Wilcox taking up the rear guard, while Jill, Lopez, and I watched for Zombs as we moved from car to car checking for keys in the ignitions.
Jill found one in the middle of the street. When she turned the key, the solenoid clicked.
“It has gasoline. It just won’t start,” she said.
“The solenoid or...” Escobar said.
“The battery is dead.” Wilcox finished his thought.
Lopez found another car and the engine turned over but it wouldn’t start.
“No gas,” he said as he looked at the gauge.
“What if we put this battery into that car?” I asked.
“Good idea. No time. No tools.”
We moved down the street.
Zombs followed us. On rooftops and through windows and doorways I saw movement. They would appear and then disappear before I could shoot. From some hidden place, Leaders were tracking us. They kept their zombie slaves just out of range. When one of us took aim, the Zombs all moved as if given a standing order, ‘move now, any direction.’ When out of our sight, they seemed to stop. Total silence filled the space between their shuffling feet and raspy wails.
The night became like a choreographed dance. It was Thriller sans the Eighties clothing and bad makeup, but much deadlier. This was nothing like shooting fish-in-a-barrel. Every time I got close enough to draw a bead on one, it would move from the window or down the alleyway.
Sometimes Jill or one of the men fired. I thought it a waste of ammo, until Wilcox laughed, “I got one.”
This shooting gallery was distracting us from finding a car, but still I wondered why they didn’t attack us with full force as they had in the tower.
“Back to work,” I hollered. “We need a car.”
Lopez tried a white pickup truck, a Toyota. It had keys and started with a strain and a grudge.
“Half a tank of gasoline,” he said with a whoop.
Escobar and Conners had fallen back, slowed by the wounds in Conners’s leg.
“Help Conners,” I said to Jill.
She ran back down the street to cover the two men and let loose a blast that stopped a solitary Zomb running toward them.
I scanned right, left, and behind. Wilcox ran back to Conners, having passed him in the excitement. He threw his M4 over one shoulder and bent to lift Conners over his other shoulder. We all moved toward the pickup truck.
The Zombs came at last. They seemed to have received a command to attack as if the Leaders anticipated our escape.
“Into the back,” Lopez yelled to Wilcox. “No time.”
Wilcox dumped Conners over the tailgate and jumped in. Conners groaned at the impact, but we would be safely away in seconds.
Jill jumped into the front with Lopez while the rest of us piled into the tiny bed of the Toyota. Lopez stepped on the gas and ran down a zombie blocking the road. It bounced off the hood with the crunch of bones.
I watched it in the moonlight struggling to try to get back up onto its broken legs. It was a woman, maybe someone’s mother. Was. For the first time in my life, I felt no pity. As we drove away, I noticed something odd about the way she lay on the ground. She looked... pregnant.
