Rickett adjusted the
driver’s seat to make room for his long legs. He sucked in another deep breath,
expanding his stomach in hopes to slow the adrenaline, but before he could
exhale, a cough ripped through his throat. He quickly stifled it with the crook
of his elbow and the thick gray sweater, fumbling the revolver into the
passenger seat. Keeping the sweater pressed to his mouth, he secured the bat,
handle up, next to the gearshift.
Rickett slid the key into the ignition and hesitated. Tendrils of smoke climbed up and over the car as the nearby fires continued to consume and move closer. I left them him in there to die, he thought to himself. Rage overtook him and he slammed his fist against the steering wheel. I could have tried. I could have done something—anything—other than run away!
“Coward,” he growled through clenched teeth. “Damned coward.” Rickett slammed the side of his fist repeatedly into the passenger seat’s headrest until guilt replaced the rage. He let out a deflated sigh and sunk into the driver’s seat.
We made it this far, looking to rescue her, Gavin’s sister, and now I sit alone in her car while everyone else gone. Now what? What’s left when the world around you burns? He knew that turning the key would bring the biters to him. Not igniting the engine only prolonged their assault. What do I do now? I have no clue where I am or who else is out there.
Rickett slid the key into the ignition and hesitated. Tendrils of smoke climbed up and over the car as the nearby fires continued to consume and move closer. I left them him in there to die, he thought to himself. Rage overtook him and he slammed his fist against the steering wheel. I could have tried. I could have done something—anything—other than run away!
“Coward,” he growled through clenched teeth. “Damned coward.” Rickett slammed the side of his fist repeatedly into the passenger seat’s headrest until guilt replaced the rage. He let out a deflated sigh and sunk into the driver’s seat.
We made it this far, looking to rescue her, Gavin’s sister, and now I sit alone in her car while everyone else gone. Now what? What’s left when the world around you burns? He knew that turning the key would bring the biters to him. Not igniting the engine only prolonged their assault. What do I do now? I have no clue where I am or who else is out there.
He pushed on the brake and turned the key. The engine came
to life. I just have to keep moving.
Someone has to be out there. Maybe Addison’s still out there. And if she is,
someone needs to let her know how hard her brother fought for her. How he
sacrificed everything for her.
And like a volcano, the
smoke induced coughing fit he feared erupted and burned his chest, throat, and
every muscle between them with each paralyzing hack. Harder the coughs came,
and Rickett dry heaved at the end of each brutal eruption, doubling over the
gearshift and coughing harder and faster and more violently until his body
seized and slumped, and his sight filled with exploding blue and yellow lights
before tumbling into darkness.
***
“Wake the fuck up, old
man!”
The yelling echoed in his head
and jolted him awake. His vision was blurred, so he flailed his arms around,
unsure of where he was, banging his hands against glass, plastic, and cloth.
When the voice dissipated, a sharp ringing in his ears remained.
With blurred vision and his throat afire, Rickett called out
to the disembodied voice. “Benny!” The name stumbled over his lips in a coarse
the whisper, the coughing fit having stolen his voice, and he groped wildly,
longingly, into the passenger seat. But Benny wasn’t there. He knew no one was
there, that no one could be there.
Not here, not now, and maybe not ever. Benny’s voice was left over from trauma,
trauma that seemed to have no end.
Thuds and groans overlapped static from the car’s
radio he had switched on when flailing. Fluid shadows slithered across his
watery vision. Blinking was not helping, and neither did rubbing the heels of
his palms into his eyes. Although he couldn’t see clearly, he knew the hive had
found him. The only thing that protected him from their hunger was the shell of
a small, yellow Volkswagen beetle.
When his vision started clearing, he saw their broken, jagged
teeth scraping against the windshield first. His sight expanded to include
their taught, bruised salivating mouths and emaciated faces. Finally, their
milky, mucus covered eyes rolled violently around in their sockets looking for
the prey. Looking for him. But could they actually see him? He wasn’t so sure.
He looked to both sides of the car, and the teeth and eyes
were there, too. Even behind him. He had been swarmed by a hive of hunger.
Hundreds of teeth, snapping jaws, and searching eyes all honed in on him.
“Shit!” he hissed. Fingers raked against the soft top
covering his head. He had to go now; if he didn’t, there’s no telling how long
the top would hold out against these creatures. He would have to make some
room, and that meant ramming the car into numerous bodies. Why didn’t her parents get her an SUV for graduation? he asked
himself, shaking his head. He shifted into reverse and stomped on the gas.
He felt the contact through the car’s vibrations: bones
breaking as the car forced itself backwards into the biters. He heard growls
and groans, thuds and wails. Bodies slid from the car’s hood. When the car
wouldn’t move anymore, he shifted into drive, the headlights highlighting the
gaunt faces and milky-white eyes. Those that slid from the hood struggled to
rise under the crushing weight of the hive’s second wave of biters. They would
do anything to consume, even if it meant crushing others. While they amassed in
hives, their motive was individual, singular: devour to sustain forward motion.
He pounded the gas again, thrusting the car into the bodies
awash in the headlights’ yellow glow.
More vibrations, more sickening noises. He turns up the radio’s volume,
blasting the white noise to drown out the sounds.
Again he shifted into reverse and accelerated. And again he
shifted into drive, this time closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to watch the
gore. Even though these things wanted to eat him, they were human at one point.
Sons and daughters. Brothers and sisters. Parents. At some point in time, they
all wanted to make it to the next day like him. He already had enough human
blood on his hands, so he didn’t want to watch more spill across the parking
lot and the car. But when he closed his eyes, his mind returned to the hallway,
to the dying boy mouthing the word “help” over and over.
Reverse. Wheels grinded bones and bodies. Drive. More bones
and more bodies. Rickett repeated the process over and over until he was able
to break free.
Once he broke through the outer layer of the hive, he turned
off the static and maneuvered through the parking lot as well as he could,
given that he didn’t know his way around the campus and the thick smoke
obscured his vision. Rickett’s anxiety and urge to escape accentuated every
bump, and when he turned, pops and clicks from the front wheel well echoed like
thunder in his ears. He should’ve known the car couldn’t handle running over
numerous bodies, but he didn’t have a choice. The car was his only way out, but
he was worried his getaway vehicle wouldn’t get him very far.
Rickett did his best to weave through the lighter patches of
smoke when he felt like he was on an open road. He didn’t know how many more
creatures inhabited the smoke or if any of the local militia were lurking in
the night beyond the fires.
After a few turns, Rickett entered a thick patch of smoke,
spotting the glow of fire to his right. He slowed down to a crawl, unsure of
where the road ended on each side of him. The world outside the car was smoke
and fire, orange and ash.
Suddenly, silhouettes appeared to his left and he knew what
they were by their shambling movements. If the biters were on his left, and the
fires were on his right, he knew he needed to be on the other side of the
flames. He remembered the fences of fire from the trip into Lincoln, how they
contained the biters.
He sped up a bit, closer to ten miles per hour, hoping to
accelerate his escape. The smoke thinned before Rickett came upon a crudely
made barrier that had yet to burn. Orange construction barrels with reflectors
showed bright in the headlights. The barrels, along with a mixture of wood and
chain link fencing, stood between him, the fires, and the hive of biters. He
could chance driving through it, but the car had sustained a good bit of damage
already, as had Rickett. He didn’t need to take any more hits to the body; he
would need to keep what strength he had left. Have to keep moving, old man, as Benny would say.
He cut the engine and pulled the keys from the ignition. He
shook them around in his hand as he considered his next move. On the ring was a
small silver tennis racket, a potential keepsake for Addison, but for Rickett,
these keys were the only thing he had left to remember his purpose: to keep
fighting like the boys had. To keep searching. He closed his hand and shoved
the keys into his pocket before grabbing the revolver and bat.
Rickett breathed deeply. No
more cowardice. Guilt and rage and
anger and hate are all fine, but no more cowardice. Gavin and Benny didn’t know
shit about guns or surviving, but they pushed on. And so will I.
Rickett opened the door, and with weapons in hand, he
approached the poorly built but stable barrier. It was about shoulder high, and
he scaled it with ease. He looked back briefly, wondering if and when the
biters would eventually overtake the barrier and escape this particular
containment area. He thought about all the bodies left behind, both human and
biter. Yes, there is guilt and anger, and
that’s human. To be human is all that’s left, and I won’t let the world take
that from me.
He turned away from the college campus and entered
into the night, this time with a renewed sense of purpose, similar to that of
the bees, the biters: sustained forward motion.
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