The Climax of Mitch is not Your Bitch
This serial began 8/15/15
Stopping only long enough to toss the dead rattler over his shoulder, Mitch headed east, deeper into the canyon, as the zombies poured in from the west. He jogged a hundred yards before the canyon turned to the northeast. Mitch cast a glance over his shoulder and saw the undead behind him stretched wall to wall.
“One mistake and I’m done,” he whispered to himself, but then focused on the tracks below him.
The footprints of the two young men led onward. A single drop of blood confirmed that one of them had been bit by the rattlesnake trap he had set for them.
He jerked when gunfire barked ahead of him. At first he thought they were shooting at him, but then realized that the tweens must have run into some zombies. “Damn kids, firing at shadows. Going to bring hundreds of deaders down into my home.”
After checking his new rifle one more time, he headed after them. It didn’t take him long to reach the three recently slain zombies. They couldn’t be too far ahead of him.
Mitch slowed his pace. From the looks of the tracks, one of the men was helping the other. More drops of blood made dark circles in the dry dust.
Before him the rust colored walls reached greater heights. He knew this could be both good and bad. It might be less likely that zombies could be entering the rift ahead of him, but climbing out would be more difficult.
He paused to listen as he allowed himself a moment to catch his breath. The rough canyon slowed the zombies following him and he had increased the distance between himself and them, but if the youths pinned him down he would be in a tough spot. He could easily find himself with gunmen on one side, zombies behind him, and difficult canyon walls on either side. He went forward anyway.
Then he saw them. The tweens remained far to focused on moving forward to notice him behind them. They had reached an area where the canyon opened wider and loose sand and rocks spread out between the sides of the rugged cliffs.
From the looks of things, Rus had been the one bitten and Mitch couldn’t have been happier. It looked like a leg wound for he was limping while receiving help from Eric, He leaned on the younger teen’s shoulder as they moved over the small dunes of sand created by the infrequent flash floods.
Mitch contemplated his options for a moment. The youths had insulted him, stolen all his gear, and then shot at him. Eric might not have joined in with the shooting and was certainly the most innocent of the original three, but one could never be sure what choices a kid could make under stress. Rus on the other hand have been an ignorant and aggressive asshole from the moment they had cursed Mitch’s life.
He decided that the world would be better off without him.
Mitch found a rock to brace the rifle on. He had never done much shooting before the apocalypse, but over the last year his skills had improved. He got the back of Rus’s head in his sights. Behind him the groans of the zombies drew closer. He would have to make sure he did this right.
A single shot echoed through the hills and Rus fell without so much as a shout.
Eric panicked and fumbled for Rus’s rifle as Mitch stepped forward.
He raised his hands, but kept the rifle in his left. “Hold on, boy. You don’t seem as nasty as those other two. I’d like to let the fight end here. We got plenty of other problems. All this shooting is going to have zombies crawling over these hills for weeks.”
Eric had the rifle in his hands, but just stared at Mitch over the barrel pointed his way.
“What do you say, kid? Whanna try to help each other get out of here? There isn’t enough of us breathers left to be killing each other over scraps.”
“What are you saying? You just killed my two friends.”
“Were they really your friends? Seems more like your abusers to me.”
Eric’s face grew red and his hands trembled as he kept the rifle pointed Mitch’s way. “What would you know about it? We were a team. We survived through a lot of shit.”
“I’m sure you did,” Mitch said as he took a step toward Eric. Behind him the moans of the undead grew in volume. They would be on him soon. “But they tried to kill the wrong guy in the wrong place and there is no going back now. The only question is how do you want to go forward? Sure you could shoot me, but then you would be left alone in an area I’m sure you don’t know well. Or you could let me help get you out of here and to someplace safe…”
Eric’s hands shook and for a moment Mitch thought the kid was really going to shoot him. Instead there was a loud rattle as he dropped the rifle onto the rocks.
Mitch walked forward allowing himself a smile.
* * *
Am hour later for the two men, both young and old climbed out of the canyon and looked back to the west as the sun had just begun to tint the sky over the distant Tucson Mountain range a light purple.
The undead spread over the foothills and continued to hunt them. The next few weeks wouldn’t be easy, but Mitch knew enough places to hide and stay safe that he figured they’d be okay. The mop up would be the hard part, but he was the master of making traps and with Eric’s help they’d figure something out.
With a sigh, he turned his back on the scene and led the way toward higher ground.
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Thanks for reading Mitch’s journey into the second year of the Eternal Aftermath and come back next weekend for the beginning of a new tale.
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You can explore more of the Eternal Aftermath here!
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Bullets
Mitch looked over his shoulder just in time to see Brad pulling the trigger on the rifle he had aimed at Mitch’s head. The gun made a dry click.
“Son of a bitch!” The tween cursed, as he worked the action of the gun.
Mitch filled his left hand with sand and whipped around while flinging the dirt into Brad’s eyes.
“You piece of sh-”
He wasn’t able to finish his sentence before Mitch cracked him in the back of his head with the club he still had in his right hand. “Forgot about all the zombies you shot before you starting firing on me didn’t you?” Mitch emphasized last word by swinging again and taking Brad in the chin.
The young man toppled over backwards and landed on a pile of uneven rocks. Brad moaned and made a pained face, but appeared too damaged to make any serious moves on him.
Mitch kicked away the rifle and lowered himself down to one knee. He hovered over Brad and started to search his pockets for bullets. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, boy.”
“I’ll finish you!” Brad yelled as he hands came up and grasped Mitch by the neck. While Mitch struggled against the younger man’s grip, he heard the sounds of undead being drawn toward them by the sounds of their fight.
Brad’s strong fingers closed around his neck as the zombies moved closer. Mitch had dropped his club, but still had his buck knife in his pocket. He fumbled for it with one hand as the other tried to pull away Brad’s fingers.
The knife came free and he flicked it open. A second later he drove it under Brad’s right armpit. Blood gushed like a river and he guessed the blade had hit the biracial artery.
Brad gasped in pain and his fingers went weak. “Why?” he groaned.
“Let’s see. You came into my camp. Insulted me. Stole my food. Took all my gear. Then when I did nothing more than run, you tried to take my life. You don’t shoot at a man if you don’t want to make him have to kill you.”
He saw the three zombies moving in. They crashed through the bushes. Each of their bodies bristled with hundreds of cactus spines. A one eyed former farmer led them and moaned louder as its arms reached out toward the men.
“Oh man, you gotta save me,” Brad said.
“Nope I don’t.”
Mitch backed up and winced when they fell onto Brad. Fingers and teeth tore the boy apart as his horrid screams ripped through the desert stillness.
He could only take so much and while the undead were occupied he smashed each of them on the head with a large stone. But the screaming drew in more. He looked to the west and saw that the larger horde made good time and would be reaching the canyon soon.
Brad still clung to life and coughed up a mouthful of blood.
“I’ll grant you this one blessing,” Mitch said as he drove his knife into the man’s temple. He thrashed for a moment and then lay still.
Mitch hurried to search Brad’s body as a dozen undead began to move in toward him. He found a large hunting knife, a canteen, and a backpack full of gear. Then he hurried to look through his jacket pockets and found what he was looking for.
Bullets.
He had just enough time to reload the magazine before the zombies moved into attack range.
Hurrying over the edge of the rocky cliff that dropped into the canyon, Mitch lowered himself into the rift and made his way to the bottom. His progress remained slow, but at least the zombies above him were unable to follow. He took his time, for a sprained ankle would be a death sentence out in these wilds even without the horde heading his way.
Once he reached the floor of the narrow canyon, he saw the first of the zombies from Tucson pour in from the west. He jogged east until he reached the dead rattler. Drops of blood could be seen in the dust. They headed east.
He knew that Brad’s two friends were still out there and both were armed, but he headed east anyway as the moaning of the zombies grew in volume behind him.
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Check in next weekend for the next part of Mitch’s journey into the beginning of the second year of the Eternal Aftermath.
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You can explore more of the Eternal Aftermath here!
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Blood Mouth Zombie
Mitch is Not Your Bitch
Mitch cursed under his breath. Not only had those damn three armed tweenies stolen all his gear and then shot at him from no real reason, but all their shooting had worked up three hundred zombies that he was being chased straight into. They came stumbling across the desert sand and rock. Every body had hundreds of thorns protruding from them like he was about to be forced to fight rotting porcupines.
Behind him he heard the hooting and shouts of the young men. I guess hunting an old unarmed man is great sport to them, he thought to himself. They’re also closer than I thought. How the hell am I going to get though this one?
He was just trying to decide it traveling north or south would be better and had picked north since water remained more likely to find in that direction, when he heard a scream come from behind him.
“That old son of a bitch. Ahhhh! Get it off me! Get it off me!”
Mitch allowed himself a grin. “I guess they’re learning a little bit about how to set traps from me after all. Have fun with that rattlesnake, boys.”
Mitch enjoyed his success, but with the crowd of zombies pushing uphill through the cactus, he knew it would be short lived. He turned to head north, but then paused.
He’d given those kids no reason to need to hurt him, but they had tried to shoot him down. Now he’d hurt one of them, so they had a reason to stay on his heels and perhaps seek revenge, but then his thoughts took a darker turn. Between the three of them, the youths had two rifles and a pistol. Mitch had some firearms, but lacked bullets. Having some a few guns for back up wouldn’t hurt his situation at all here in the mountains.
The zombies drew in close enough for him to be able to smell their foulness on the wind. “Screw it,” he said aloud. “Can’t have those punks following me. Poke old man rattler and see what you get.” He turned east and began to circle away from the zombies, but up and back around to where he had set his rattlesnake trap. “I’m not going to be their bitch.”
A lone zombie moaned as it lumbered forward on stiff legs. Black liquid dripped from his eyes like post modem mascara as it tried to block his path, but Mitch still had his club. He rushed in and gave it a homerun to the forehead. He must have scored a good shot for it didn’t get back up.
More shouts echoed through the hills. “I’m going to kill that asshole. Not fast, but slow. Feed him to zombies as inch at a time. Oh damn, this hurts so bad.”
Mitch could tell that it was Rus who had gotten bitten and he couldn’t imagine a better fate for the fat bully.
He had climbed high enough to fall out of sight from the zombies in the foothills below. Looking back, while he caught his breath, he saw that Rus’s shouting drew most of the gathering horde into the canyon Mitch had set the trap in.
“Soon those kids will have far worse problems than me,” Mitch chuckled.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, you old puke,” he heard Brad’s voice say from behind him this was followed by the sounds of a gun being aimed. He had just enough time to curse, before he looked back to see Brad pulling the trigger.
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Check in next weekend for the next part of Mitch’s journey into the beginning of the second year of the Eternal Aftermath.
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You can explore more of the Eternal Aftermath here!
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High Desert Danger
Mitch kept running as rocks splintered around him. A bullet buzzed over his head and he crouched lower as he rushed through the dry wash. A moan of an approaching zombie reached his ears, but it remained thirty feet away and out of the wash. They weren’t his real problem…yet.
Behind him, he heard Rus shouting, “Shoot at that guy too, you damn wimp!”
Mitch allowed himself a grim grin. A little kindness can go a long way.
The shooting stopped when he passed through a deeper canyon. Shade graced him for a moment as he slowed to a half jog. Rough rocky cliffs stretched higher as he moved. A rattlesnakes warning came from his right.
Usually finding the coiled snake would make his day, but on this morning he didn’t have the… A thought came to him. He still had the tangled mess of trip wire with him. Drawing both the wires and his buck knife from his back pockets, he cut a long length of piano wire from the intertwined ball.
He had to hurry. They could be running up behind him for all he knew. Why they would bother was beyond him. They had almost all his gear and long gone were the days he could report them to anyone. But he knew the world had grown more viscous. They might think he would hunt them down or slit a sleeping throat.
If they were following him, this would give them a surprise, he thought to himself as he pinned down the head of the rattler with his club. Taking his time and with great care, he grabbed the western diamondback behind its head. It struggled against him and whipped its tail in a fury.
Mitch slipped the wire noose around its head and threw the snake behind a rust colored rock. He stretched the rest of the wire across the wash floor and then strung it around another rock so the wire rested only a few inches off the ground. It might not work, they might not come this way, but if it did work, they’d have a hell of a surprise when a pissed off rattle snake got pulled into their leg.
With another inner grin, Mitch hurried through the rest of the short canyon. It opened up giving him not only a view of the wide Sonoran Desert spreading before him, but one of the ghost town of Tucson Arizona baking in the relentless sun.
But that wasn’t what Mitch’s eyes stayed glued on. What concerned him were the number of undead the gunfire had summoned. They marched through the thick cactus collecting thorns as they came. Although spread out in different sized groups, they had to number in the hundreds.
And the three armed men behind him drove Mitch straight into them.
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Check in next weekend for the next part of Mitch’s journey into the beginning of the second year of the Eternal Aftermath.
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Screaming Zombie
You can explore more of the Eternal Aftermath here!
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Eternal Aftermath, A Zombie Apocalypse 