A twenty mile hike through the desert had Devon and Emily more ready for a fourteen hour sleep than entering a hostile town filled with who knew how many walking dead. Still Devon realized that it was time to rise above such concerns. Everyone at the ranch was counting on him to do something. If he didn’t, they would soon be fighting four hundred zombies without his and Emily’s guns to aid them.
As they entered the darkened town, Emily asked, “So what’re we trying to do again?” Tumble weeds sped over abandoned roads. In some areas the desert winds had dislodged enough sand to obscure the pavement beneath. “This place is like a real ghost town.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” He let his pistols lead the way. It had been an easier hike without his shotgun, but now he wished he’d brought more fire power. “And as to your question, we’re here to get whatever we can, be it information, guns, or maybe even reinforcements.”
It didn’t take long before the first undead started to make themselves known. A dozen unbreathing lungs moaned before they had made it a hundred yards.
“Quiet or loud?” Emily asked.
“Loud, we don’t have the time. Besides, I’d rather know what we’re facing.”
“Remember,” she smiled past the grit, “there’re still about a hundred on our trail.”
“I know, but I still think you should do it.”
“Do what?” She asked, while taking aim with her rifle.
“One of your screams,” he said before he shot the closest Walker in the head.
“Oh, a piercer,” she said with a smile before she let out a violent scream that left Devon wanting to cover his ears.
“Okay, now we’ll know what we’re really up against. Come on, we saw him leaving the high school gym before. Maybe we’ll get lucky and that’s his base. Let’s fight our way over there.”
* * *
After what felt like an eternity of waiting, a man he had seen a few times, the one that always wore a shit kicker hat, came into the room they held him in. Haeds erupted in anger, his wrists strained against the handcuffs, as he called out, “Is that daylight? Where are you holding me? You’re keeping the king of the zombies in a fucking shack! I should have them eat you one inch at a time. Then I will-”
He rant ceased when the butt of a shotgun slammed into his stomach. “That’s just to let you know that you just became the king of crap and can feel free to call me God, you dumbass corpse lover.”
“You might think you’re something special, but I just think you’re another breather stupid enough to shoot at us. We’ve put down everyone who has done it so far and I could easily add you to that long list. It seems like your precious Queen or should I say Anna would certainly have no problem if I did.”
Brown leaned in with his lip drawn back in a snarl. His fierceness caused Haeds to draw back involuntarily. “I just came back from talking to her. She told me what you did you sick freak. And now I assure you that you are about to tell me everything you know that I want to know. Either that, or we start playing Mr. Piggy, the hard way.”
* * *
“This isn’t right.” Mitch looked over at him. The marching zombies created a snake of darkness that twisted along the road. Spencer scratched his head. “Let alone the general weirdness of this whole man that’s ignored by zombies thing, why are they marching this way when Devon and my sister should have been able to lure them away? My sis is walking zombie bait. But besides all that, where are they? They should be able to run circles around these Walkers.”
“Did they ever tell you to come back and pick them up?” Mitch said, while he eyed the slowly approaching horde.
“We didn’t really go over it.”
“I’m glad you’re so organized. I think we need to let them take care of themselves. We should be more concerned with this army of Walkers heading toward our ranch. Maybe we should think about bailing.”
“Screw that. Besides we can’t do anything until we hear from Devon and my sister.”
Mitch eyed Spencer for a moment and then gazed back at the shambling corpses. “We had better get back. And they better show up.”