“Fuck me,” swore someone behind her.
“They’re not going down,” said another, a woman.
“Get ’em in the head, take out the brains.”
The virus must be mutating, evolving to survive. Infected were running out of food so the plague made them hardier, harder to kill.
The boy stumbled toward her. Her first bullet flew past it but the second punched into the side of its forehead and it fell. Head shots worked. Blood soaked into the bandage on her shoulder. Felt like she’d ripped some stitches. She gritted her teeth as pain coursed through her. Without the meds she’d have been rolling on the ground in tears.
“Watch out for the train tracks,” Nick said.
Someone called for ammunition and another answered. Something tugged on her foot. An infected lay on the ground, its mouth stretched around the toe of her boot. It had no legs below the knees. She could see one bloody stump, the white of bone. It was all so surreal. If only her hands would stop trembling. Her gun muzzle jittered all over the place. She bent and placed it against the thing’s head and pulled the trigger. Brains splattered her arm and shoe. Disgusting didn’t cover it. She straightened too fast and the world slid. Deep breaths. They had to make it. If she fell now she was screwed.
A big building loomed ahead, blocking out the stars. It might as well have been a world away. They’d come to a complete stop. There were too many infected. Ammunition was running low. Zombies surrounded them.
Sean reversed his rifle and slammed the stock into the face of an oncoming infected. Bone crunched and the thing dropped dead. Roslyn’s head swum woozily. She shook it off and aimed at the next target, trying not to see too much. An old woman. A child. A man missing an arm, with his neck torn open. They were all monsters now.
Blood soaked her bandage. Her left arm felt numb and her hands were slick with sweat. Sure enough her boot caught on a train track and she lost her balance, almost falling on her face. Nick hauled her upright, not missing a beat. She almost sobbed in gratitude. Maybe she did. The noise of the guns was unending, and it was impossible to hear anything over it.
They were going to die here. If something didn’t happen soon, they were not going to make it.
“We need a distraction,” yelled Nick.
“Yeah, we do.” Sean plucked the semi-automatic from her hands.
“Hey,” she cried, startled.
“Get them out of here, Nick,” he ordered. He flicked on the little flashlight and shone it in the faces of the oncoming infected, then he dove into the crowd. “Come on! Come on, you f**kers!”
“Captain!” one of the other men yelled. “Shit.”
The lunatic Viking ran deep into the seething mass of the horde, flashlight waving madly. It didn’t distract all of them, but it distracted enough of them. Heads turned in his direction. Feet shuffled away from them. Suddenly the group of survivors moved forward again toward the building. Nick tugged at her arm, leading her on. She could barely hear Sean yelling hoarsely somewhere, lost in the crowd. The bright beam of the flashlight cut into the night. She stared at it in horror, hand fumbling over the grip of her spare pistol. The grip was smaller and slid in her damp hands. She struggled to hold it, pins and needles filling her left arm and shoulder screaming bloody murder.
What Sean had done was suicide.
“Move,” someone said behind her.
“Hurry,” Nick kicked in a door on the side of the building, a pistol in hand.
Gravel gave way to concrete as she felt her way up a step.
Holy shit, they’d made it.
Inside was no darker than out. The other side of the building seemed to be missing, or maybe it had always been open, and part of the roof had fallen in. Several zombies shambled toward them. Her shoulder throbbed. Her finger jerked at the trigger until the gun clicked uselessly empty. Nick and another man pulled at a tarp and it slid free, revealing a black SUV.
“Come on, Ros,” Nick said.
A man ran past, reaching for another tarp covering yet another vehicle. More infected stumbled into the warehouse. They started pouring in from every direction. Shadowy figures shambled towards them. Nick pushed her into the back seat of a vehicle, still firing at the oncoming horde. An engine roared to life and headlights flicked on, blinding her with their sudden brilliance.
“Move!” someone yelled. “Ali!”
The doors opposite her flew open, both front and back. People jumped in. A man gunned the engine. The brunette slid in beside her and slammed the door shut. Nick climbed in and shut his side. There was no sign of Sean. Of course there wasn’t. He’d be dead by now, ripped apart. He’d sacrificed himself so they could make it. She barely even knew him. He’d given up his coat to keep her warm. Everything was numb inside her.
“Go,” said Nick.
The SUV powered into the darkness, throwing her back against the seat and rattling her brain. It ploughed down the infected in front of them with barely a hiccup. Behind them the second vehicle followed.
“Do we even know where we’re headed?” asked the brunette beside her.
The man in the passenger seat turned, bracing himself against the console. It was a hell of a rocky ride. “There’s a place we scouted about two hours from here, an old convent. It’s got good high walls and the gate is still intact.”
“St Catherine’s,” said the brunette, her voice flat, defeated.
“Yeah.”
The man turned back and the brunette stared out the window into the dark. Never had the world seemed so horribly unwelcoming.
Nick laid open her jacket and swore. “First-aid kit?”
“Here,” The guy in the front produced one and the brunette flicked on the little interior light.
“S’okay,” said Ros, her eyelids dragging downward. Keeping them open was too much hassle. She could sleep for years with the aid of her friends the pain pills. It felt so good just to give into the pull of them. “It’s just bleeding a little.”
“Fuck,” hissed Nick. “She’s torn it open.”
Had she? Huh. It didn’t even hurt. She was so damn tired.
Nick started to say something but sleep had already claimed her.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Nick stood on the frosted front lawn of St Catherine’s as the sun came up. The once-immaculate gardens had run wild and the front door stood open. Without a doubt, there’d be zombies inside the walls of the big old mansion. But the stone walls stood a story tall and the modern steel gates worked just fine.