Zombie Apocalypse Box Set 2 Page 11

  Sarah paused. "Where are you?"

  She watched as a head poked out from behind one of the mannequins. The girl's face was dark, but Sarah could see a relieved smile spread across her face. "Over here!" the little girl squeaked out.

  Relief washed over Sarah and her heart began to settle. She let out a deep breath and felt her shoulders relax. She stepped forward to go for the girl, starting to put the gun back in her waistband when one of the mannequins next to the girl moved. It reached its rough, pale hand out for her, its scratched and broken fingernails waiting to dig into her flesh and pull her close.

  Sarah took the gun out in a flash and aimed at the shape looming over the little girl. She fired a shot and a brief flash lit up the area around her. The bullet hit the zombie in the shoulder and it spun around and stumbled until it crashed into a rack of blouses. The little girl stared stunned at the zombie as it wrestled with the clothing it was tangled in.

  "Move!" Sarah yelled. She ran forward and grabbed the girl by the arm, yanking her away from the zombie. She didn't have a free hand anymore to feel in front of her, and she was more concerned with getting away than bumping into things, so when her kneecap slammed into a column stretching up to the ceiling, she bounced off of it and let go of the girl's arm as she howled in pain. She stifled the sound coming out of her throat and suffered in silence, trying to put herself together. When she looked around for the girl, she was met with only darkness. "Where did you go?"

  Silence.

  "Fuck!" she said in a harsh whisper, and she wandered around the spot, looking at each illuminated part of the store.

  There was a flash of shadow that went by one of them in her peripheral vision followed by a faint squeaked word.

  Sarah ran after her, being very careful as she moved. She saw the girl run by in the next patch of light several yards away, and as she went for it another zombie stepped into the light, its face partially mangled at its jaw and its eyes glowing like white moons. The sounds of the first zombie were still behind her... frustrated, angry groans... and this one was in the first stage of spotting a meal and getting itself worked up about the concept before it moved. She took the opportunity to aim and blast the zombie like the previous one. The bullet hit it in the neck and tore off a chunk of flesh, leaving a sprinkled trail of blood that sailed through the air and looked black in the light before disappearing into the darkness. The zombie stumbled, but it was far from taken out of commission.

  Sarah changed direction and ran for the girl who went somewhere to her right, frustrated that she was missing shots that she should have made. Eventually she stopped, realizing that she had been running for quite a ways and no longer knew where the girl had gone or where she was. She listened and heard the zombies rummaging around somewhere far away, but she heard nothing else. She took a few furtive steps, trying to get her bearings. Then she felt something touch her leg. She jumped and aimed the gun down at it.

  "Is that you?" the sweet, squeaky voice asked from below.

  Sarah yanked her arm away from the girl and slapped a hand to her mouth, stopping herself from shouting "Oh my God" into the store. The girl had nearly given her a heart attack, and even worse, she nearly shot her.

  Sarah crouched down. "Yeah, it's me," she said and then she felt around in the darkness for the girl, finding her crouched behind a display counter. She knelt down next to the girl. "We have to get out of here, it's not safe. It's too dark to see anything."

  "I'm sorry," the girl whispered. "I got scared."

  "That's okay," Sarah told her. She wanted to hug the child to comfort her, but she thought that would be too overwhelming to her and would risk making her run off again. But she did grab a hold of her arm. Just as the sound of one of the shambling zombies came from right behind them...

  She felt the little girl tense up under her grip, but she held her tight, making sure she didn't go anywhere. She wanted to whisper a word of comfort in the girl's ear, but she didn't dare. She quietly slid herself across the smooth floor and hid behind the counter next to the girl. They were completely shrouded in darkness, as was the zombie, and unless the thing actually bumped into them—and even if it did—as long as they didn't make any kind of noise or movement, they would probably be safe.

  They both held their breath as the zombie came around a column and walked across the opening of the counter right beside them. They couldn't see it, but the way the sound of sticking flesh accompanied the clomping sound of its shoe told Sarah that its shoes had been worn down to nothing and the rest of it was probably just as old and disheveled. The zombie moaned almost in agony, wanting to find the meal that had fled into the darkness. Its breath wheezed in and out of its diseased lungs, creating a scratching rattle in its throat that would have been inaudible if they hadn't been right beside it. It paused next to them for a moment and then its shoe kicked Sarah in the side of the thigh, making her bump into the girl.

  Sarah quickly wrapped her arm around the girl and pressed her hand over her mouth. She knew the girl was scared, and she felt her squirm underneath her arm, but she held her tightly to her side. The zombie stayed right next to them and let out a long, bellowing breath as if it was announcing its displeasure.

  Then finally, it left, leaving only its half-shoed footfalls the only sign of it as it faded into the distance.

  "We're okay. We're okay," Sarah cooed to the girl. "We're going to go and find a way out now, okay?"

  But before they could even rise, glass shattered somewhere in the distance and the sound of the wailing wind from outside flooded into the store. A quick set of footsteps pattered into the department store. Harsh, throaty grunts echoed in the darkness, sounding like a zombie, but meaner, more aggressive.

  Sarah's heart sank as they listened to the scratcher roam through the store. It already sounded so frenzied and moved with such determination that it seemed not to care about whatever it couldn't see and might bump into. And bump into things it did. Before long, it began to sound like a bull in a china shop. The sounds of the other two zombies in the store were but faint whispers compared to the fury of the scratcher, and as Sarah continued to helplessly listen, she realized what was happening.

  The location of the scratcher's noises and that of the other zombies began to coalesce until they came from the same point of origin. And that's when the scratcher became even more frenzied and the wet and smacking sounds of chewing echoed in the large space.

  "Oh God," Sarah muttered and she immediately wished she didn't. She felt the little girl still under her arm start to shake violently with fear. She tried to pull away but Sarah wouldn't let her. "Hey! Hey... listen to me. It's okay. Tell me what your name is," she said, trying to distract the girl from what was happening in the store. "Just tell me your name, okay? My name's Sarah. What's yours?"

  But before the girl could answer, the scratcher's business was done, having homed in on the other two zombies like it had a laser-guided system, and now it was coming toward them.

  The girl squirmed badly under her grip, and she tried to calm her down. "It's okay, it can't see us in the darkness," she whispered. "Just stay with me and wait for it to go away, just like last time, okay?"

  After the scratcher had enjoyed its brief feast, its rate of activity had dropped and it began to calm down and take a more lackadaisical tenor as it stumbled through the darkness. It came close to them, though not as close as the last zombie, and Sarah heard its path start to change direction at its closest point and move away from them.

  But just as she began to let out a silent breath, the scratcher paused. It made a faint noise, but it was hard to hear over the growling and angry sounds of the other two zombies in the distance who were now scratchers as well. And then, just like that, the one near them was upon them.

  Sarah felt a very brief whoosh of air before the mass tackled her. She instinctively shot herself away from it along the floor, falling over the little girl who wormed her way out from underneath and backed away. Sarah shot out her ha
nds and feet as hard as she could, trying to knock the corpse away, but it was incredibly strong and fast and came right back at her each time. She couldn't see a single thing in the darkness and she knew all it would take was one bite and it would be game over. She managed to pull her handgun out just as she landed a blow at the base of its neck with her foot. She didn't know exactly where it was or where to aim, so as she knew it would be launching itself at her again, she pointed the gun in its general direction and started unloading the magazine at it.

  The scratcher fell on top of her quicker than she had expected, and she managed to press her arm against its neck and keep its gnashing teeth at bay after she had pumped round after round into its torso. The quick volley of shots managed to distract it, if only briefly. It took a moment of pause that allowed her to move the gun through the darkness and bring it up to the scratcher's head. She squeezed the trigger again but not quickly enough before it regained its cognizance and started attacking her again, causing her to blow off its chin in a disgusting shower of blood, bone and sinew.

  It let out a bloodcurdling cry, not in pain but in fury as it came at her ceaselessly. She felt wetness drip down onto her face and neck, and she couldn't tell if it was blood or saliva, probably a mixture of both. Her arm was starting to slip against its blood-slicked neck, and she aimed the pistol again where she thought its head was and fired a Hail Mary volley of shots until her gun clicked empty, which was only three.

  But they did the trick, and in the brief muzzle flashes, she could see one shot go through its cheek and the final shot drill into the side of its head and into its brain. Then it slumped immediately against the counter next to them, its broken head slamming against the wood, and then its dead weight fell on top of her.

  Sarah squirmed out from under it, using her coat sleeve to frantically wipe the fluids off her face. She felt around in the darkness behind her for the girl and by some miracle, she was still there, waiting and watching in horror. She grabbed hold of her arm and got both of them up to their feet, stowing the empty gun in her coat pocket. She guided the little girl away from the scene of carnage, knowing the other two scratchers would be upon them any moment.

  They heard the sound of the wind gushing into the store from outside, and that was the one single sign that they had—a marker telling them where the exit and salvation lay.

  But the remaining two scratchers were very vocal, letting out every whine, grunt, groan and shout that they had in them, and they were both coming from the direction of the wind, blocking their escape.

  Sarah moved them through the darkness, trying to get far enough away, but not so far that they would risk bumping into something and making further noise. She found another counter ahead and they hid behind it as the scratchers reached the scene of the dead one behind them and prowled around. The edge of the counter around them was sitting in some rays of moonlight, painting it into depressing blues. It was just enough to illuminate the interior of the glass counter and all the long-forgotten bottles of perfume that sat inside.

  She couldn't understand how the scratcher had found them when they hadn't made a single sound or movement in the darkness, and the zombie before it had passed by without an incident, even bumping into her. She had been racking her brain for the answer and, staring at the pale edge of a perfume bottle half in the light, the answer came to her.

  They could smell her and the girl. Not the normal zombies, but the scratchers could. And maybe that was how it quickly found the other two zombies in the darkness as well, but when it came to humans, it took until the scratcher was almost directly beside them for it to smell them, and Sarah suddenly figured out what the soft noise was that it had made: the soft puffing of its nose as it sniffed the air for them, more animal than human.

  Sarah put her hand on the glass in front of the perfume bottles and it thankfully slid open without any lock holding it into place. She grabbed the first bottle that her hand fell around and pulled it out, and she practically doused herself and the little girl in it. "Hold still," she whispered. "They can smell us, so we have to put this on to hide from them."

  The little girl was filthy and had already worked up her own smell in the who-knew-how-long time that she had been alone, and maybe her human scent was already masked by the dirt and grime covering her, but Sarah spritzed her all over with the perfume anyway.

  When they were done and reeked to high heavens, Sarah softly put the bottle down and got up. "Okay," she said, "we're going to try to get out of here. Do you hear the wind?"

  The girl didn't make a sound but Sarah knew she was nodding.

  "That's the way out," she continued. "We're going to go slowly, and then we'll be out of here, okay?"

  She didn't wait for a response before she started gently tugging on the girl's arm. The scratchers were still between them and the door, and she worked her way through the darkness on an angle away from them so they could skirt around, using the pillars of light coming through the skylights to guide the way, but never entering them.

  As the scratchers became more and more frustrated that they couldn't find the two of them and then calmed down as apathy set in, Sarah and the girl had already made it three-quarters of the way through the store. In the final stretch, she heard one of them change direction and come close to them. She tried not to freak out, trusting that the perfume would mask their scent, but there was no way to be certain. The gun was in her pocket, but it was out of ammo. She had more of that too, but she had no hope to reload in the darkness.

  They just continued to slowly make their way toward the wind that was practically shouting at them now. And the harsh, abrasive noise had never before sounded like such music to her ears that night.

  The scratcher grunted and moaned behind them.

  Sarah clamped on to the little girl almost to the point of hurting her, but the rest of her stayed calm. She could hear the scratcher sniffing in the darkness, and maybe it had been attracted by the perfume, but perfume didn't agitate it.

  Just when they reached the point where the wind was so loud that it masked the noises of the scratcher completely, leaving them deaf to its advances, it changed course and slipped back into the darkness.

  Sarah and the girl made it to the door and went through the shattered frame into the night. The street seemed clear in the vicinity and Sarah waited until they got around the side of the building before pausing. She took off her coat, pulling out the gun first and stuffing it in her pants, and she put it around the little girl. "Are you okay?" she asked.

  "Yeah," the girl said.

  "We have to get you somewhere safe. I have a nice place with a lot of people where there's food and water and no way for the zombies to get in. Does that sound good?" But as soon as the words left her lips she saw fright come across the girl's face and she pulled away from her a little. She realized the girl must have been alone for so long that any kind of human contact frightened her half to death. "It's okay," Sarah added. "Why don't we just find somewhere safe out here? Just the two of us?"

  The little girl nodded in agreement.

  "Can you show me where the scratchers are coming from?" Sarah asked.

  "Yeah," the girl said softly and took her hand. "It's this way."

  The two of them walked down the street as Sarah kept her eyes open to make sure they had a safe passage.

  "My name's Amanda," the girl said, finally answering Sarah's question.

  "Amanda. I like that name."

  11

  Rebirth

  Amanda had a frumpy way of walking, Sarah noticed. Underneath all the dirt and grime, the girl looked beautiful, fit for angelic service, even. But the way she moved was a testament to how she had been alone for too long, too lost and too downtrodden to have the grace to match. Her tiny feet shuffled on the pavement and her shoulders shifted back and forth like a caveman's. Sarah found herself stealing glances at the girl, and each time the girl would innocently gaze up into her eyes, showing the softest, roundest cheeks and the most h
aunting blues she'd ever seen.

  "Come here," Sarah told her. She knelt down and licked her thumb then started to rub some of the grime away on her face. Amanda recoiled at first, her eyes lighting up in that familiar look of terror, but then they softened and she acquiesced, yet only for a time. Eventually she pulled away.

  "My face is cold," she pleaded.

  "I'm sorry, honey," Sarah said, wiping her face with the sleeve of her own sweatshirt. She got most of the dirt off, leaving semi-clean skin peeking out from a grimy rim around the edges. A sudden gust of wind struck through them and Sarah shivered violently.

  "Are you cold?" Amanda asked her, swimming in Sarah's coat with her arms extending only halfway into the sleeves and the rest of them drooping down like a couple of lifeless snakes.

  "No, I'm fine," Sarah said as her teeth rattled. "Why have you never had a coat, though? Or a change of clothes? What you're wearing is filthy."

  "I can't take it off," Amanda said.

  "Why not?"

  "My mama always told me I have to look my best. She always made me wear this when we would go to church."

  Sarah was confused. "Go to church? How old are you?" The girl made it sound like she used to have a completely normal life like anyone else before the zombies came, but she couldn't have been old enough to know what that was like.

  "Six, I think," Amanda said. "My mama and daddy would take me to church on Sundays. And I always wore this dress."

  "Was this after the zombies?"

  Amanda stared at her blankly and a horrifying realization dawned on Sarah. The girl had absolutely no idea what she was talking about; it was clear that she had never known a world without zombies and death and depravity, but unlike David, she had never been told that it didn't always used to be that way.

  They carried a moment of silence as they kept walking down the street, the girl's frumpy little shoulders moving almost robotically now.