A feeling a dread built within her soul, as the small convoy approached what Rik and Trent claimed was a safe house. The place looked more like a medieval fortress to her. Huge walls had been constructed from what might have been demolished homes and the like. These haphazard walls stretched twenty feet into the air and were surrounded by several hundred Walkers. Fires burned every hundred feet or so and as the sun dimmed down behind Gate’s Pass, she could see figures moving before this scattered flames.
“Sure doesn’t look like the place is deserted to me,” Mar said, as a chill caused her to shiver uncontrollably.
“That could be a good thing,” Jonathan said. “Looks like a secure spot to me. Don’t worry, people always welcome a doctor.”
“I have a bad feeling.” She grasped his arm. “Please just turn around before it’s too late. If the others want to throw their lives away, that’s their business, but we still have time to escape!”
“Marry, relax, will you. Not everyone is evil. And escape where, I might add,” he said while turning his older face toward her. “We’re going to see this through. Look they’re helping us. Those horns of theirs are herding the zombies to the other side of their fort. We should be able to enter easily.”
“That’s what I’m afraid off.”
* * *
They were finally prepared and as Spencer looked out over the simmering desert, he discovered that it was just soon enough. His eyes squinted against the glare, despite his shades, as he tried to take in the lumbering mass of undead that plotted toward them.
They came by the score, maybe four hundred in all. Their clothes hung in rags that were black with filth. They looked thin to the point where he wondered how they could still be moving. Although some here and there looked well feed and figured that was Hades doing. He wouldn’t put much past that freak.
His eyes shifted back to the quickly constructed trap before him. Two miles past the ranch, a narrow cement bridge spanned a deep canyon. It was just wide enough for Spencer and Brown to have parked two pickup trucks facing each other in the center of the bridge. Over these vehicles that had secured four by eight plywood boards and covered them with motor oil and any other types of grease they could dig up.
When these fly-bags come for us, they will try to climb over these puppies and get a big surprise, he smiled to himself.
All of those people that had remained behind were there with him, including Haeds and Spencer seriously hoped that he would be taken down a notch by being forced to watch his precious ‘family of zombies’ tumble down into the ravine below.
He knew this could still be a difficult battle, ten people versus four hundred Walkers, but it was his sister and Devon that his thoughts kept clinging to, even as the undead army neared.
* * *
They had only made it halfway across the large cafeteria when Devon last pistol ran out of bullets.
“Why the hell are there so many Walkers in here?” Emily yelled, as she fired her rifle close enough to a zombie to be sprayed by its gore, after its head exploded.
“I think he stored his reserves here,” Becca shouted, as her bat cracked into the head of a zombie that couldn’t have been older than fourteen when it died. Despite their efforts, there had to be over thirty undead still lingering within the cafeteria and more poured in from the hallway every few seconds. “My evil shithead brother was always hung up on high school, because he was such a loser here. Even though he’s twenty-four, he never moved past it.”
“Great,” Devon mumbled as he drew his machete. Three girls, who might have been preppy before the years of decay set in, lunged toward him. He fenced forward, stabbing one through its rotten face. Another got to close and a well placed kick sent her tumbling into the third and they both went down. He was able to finish them off before they regained their feet, but others were coming at them from every side.
Officer Dells picked up and table and heaved it into a large group that blocked their path. “Retreat!” Devon yelled. “Fall back. Draw them away from that hallway and we might be able to circle around and make it through.”
“Unless more keep pouring out of there,” the sheriff shouted.
“I guess we better hope they don’t,” he growled, as be led the others toward the kitchen.
* * *
The punker tiffed. “Yeah cuz zombies are so fucking smart.”
“You’ll see, you little prick,” he replied, while straining against the cuffs.
“I should burn your eyes out with my smoke, you butthole. You’re nothing but a wanna be super villain and about the worst one I’ve ever seen. Even the Toad would kick your ass.”
“Oh yeah, I’ll remember that while my family is crewing on your bones.”
Both men fell silent as the horde approached the plywood covered trucks. How well these losers and some to be meat pie’s trap would work was about to be tested and Haeds gritted his teeth as the front of his army started across the bridge.