Mitch and Bonnie Miller sat in their car trapped in the middle of a traffic jam. They had each been trapped in traffic before, but from the looks of things, this would be the last time it would ever happen to them. Because, unlike the other traffic jams they had suffered through, this one also had zombies and about a dozen of them were slapping the car windows with bloody smacks and pressing their snapping teeth up against the glass.
“What are we going to do?” Bonnie pleaded, while grabbing his arm. “Please, I don’t want to die like this.”
Mitch didn’t answer right away, instead his mind went back to the first person they had seen get torn apart by the raving maniacs that the media were only recently calling the walking dead. It had been their mail man of all people. His prim shorts became drenched in blood as five of the things had drawn him to the ground. The man’s screams had seemed to go on forever.
That had been the moment that Mitch had decided it was time to flee Tucson. Unfortunately so had a few hundred thousand other people.
Bonnie’s voice drew him back to the present. “Come on Mitch, we might not have much time.”
He eyes traveled to the back seat of their hybrid. They mostly held food and clothes, but he had grabbed a few butcher knives. He handed one of these to Bonnie, but kept rifling through the gear until he located his old hammer. It had a small sledge head, but the handle stretched only about eighteen inches long. It had been his father’s and the only thing he had ever seen his old man use it for was driving the tent stakes into the hard packed earth when they went camping.
“Okay, at least we’re armed.”
The moaning grew in volume as two more of the wandering dead took up posts outside of the compact vehicle. So much blood covered the windows they had become opaque.
Bonnie looked down at the knife clutched in her quivering hand. “What do you expect me to do with this anyway? You can’t possibility think that we can fight our way out of here.”
“No I don’t. At least not yet.”
“Calm down, will you. I’m trying to save us.”
“Calm down? How do you expect me to calm down? This moaning is enough to drive me mad. We’re about to die.”
“Not if I can help it.” Mitch’s greying hair was drenched in sweat and he wiped it out of his face. “I’m going to try something.”
He rolled down the window. Only about four inches, but that proved enough to send the freaks into a frenzy. Mouths pressed against the opening while fingers struggled for a grip. The moaning rung in his ears.
Mitch went into a frenzy of his own—chopping at the fingers and faces. Several severed fingers dropped to the floor of the car while he kept stabbing and cutting.
Bonnie might have been screaming.
One face dropped lower and Mitch yelled, “Got yeh!” and stabbed forward. The blade took the madman in the eye and he fell back with a final gasp. But more tried to grab the window. “Crap,” he said and attempted to roll it up. He got less than an inch from his goal, but at least ten fingers still protruded into his car. He set to hacking them.
It proved a gruesome affair. The whole time he chopped at them, Bonnie begged him to stop.
“I can’t stop, they could break the window.”
Her hysterical cries sounded loud in the enclosed space, but after two more minutes, he had cut enough fingers away that he was able to roll up the window.
Her face stayed buried in her hands. “Why didn’t we run away from our car like everyone else? Why is this happening to us?”
“I’m sure there are plenty of others trapped in their cars all around us and it would be my guess that these people attacking us could very well be some of the people that did run away.”
This seemed to sober her slightly. “But what are we going to do? You can’t kill them all through the window.”
For a long moment the only sounds heard were the continuous moaning and the violent hand slaps. Then Mitch said, “Don’t worry, I have a plan”
The Story continues next Saturday!
Brown felt like his heart had been hit by a rock. Where are they? He didn’t dare yell for them because it could attract more of those flesh eating things. Scanning the area behind the burning convenience store, Brown saw that one direction headed deeper into a junk yard of rusted vehicles. Their black silhouettes cast thick shadows and he figured that was about the last place he’d want to go and the others would have probably thought the same.
The other direction proved to be the more dangerous of the two for he came to the road right away. For a moment he almost panicked, especially since he couldn’t see any of the others. Five of the walking dead crossed in the road. It didn’t take long for one of them to spot him and take up their horrible moans.
The fire must draw the things for some reason.
The polished bat still filled his hands and with a yell, he made a roundhouse swing on the nearest one. For once, the blow was enough to take it down without any argument. The second went down and he was going for his third when he heard the moaning increase. Looking around he saw that another dozen of the wailing things had exited the restaurant across the street.
“Must be thinking they’re about to get barbecue,” he grumbled as he pushed one zombie into another, which sent them both tumbling to the ground.
The fire roared behind him and plumes of toxic smoke bellowed ever closer. Damn, I can’t go back the way I came and before me isn’t looking too much better. This might be it, Brown-man.
Bright headlights blinded several of the zombies. They, along with Brown, turned to look into the lights of an approaching vehicle. Brown couldn’t be sure what it was at first, but it seemed damn big.
With a loud hoot, the driver ran down four of the approaching zombies. Not willing to stop there, he threw the rig, which Brown could not see was a monster-sized tow truck, into a one-eighty and then run down another three.
By then, Brown could tell that Trevor drove and a smile crept over his face. He watched as the rig neared and it almost cost him his life.
Pain tore through his arm as violent fingers dug into him. A mouth wasn’t far behind and would have gotten him if his bat didn’t fence and smash the thing in the center of its face. It stumbled back and then Brown smashed his bat down on its fingers. It took two tries, but it lost its grip.
Changing to a two handed grip, Brown took the swing of his life and the neck snapped loud enough to be heard over the tow truck’s engine. Another one drew in close and received the same treatment.
“Are we going to get out of here,” Trevor called down to him, “or do you have to kill all of these sick things before we do?”
“No, I think we’ve done our share for now,” He said as he leapt up onto one of the running boards. “We can let the soldiers clean up the rest.”
Laura wore a smile for the first time since they met. She hugged her daughter tighter to her chest as Brown climbed into the tow truck.
“Where too?” Trevor asked.
“We need to get these two somewhere safe,” Brown said. “Head into Tucson. I’m sure they have the resources to keep whatever’s happening under control there.”
Turning back toward I-10 the small group left the growing flames of the convenience store behind them.
The growing mob of zombies watched them depart until another vehicle exited the highway. As one, the zombies moaned as the vehicle slowed for the stop sign.
Thank You for reading Cowboys Versus Zombies
A new story will begin next Saturday!