Chapter 5
Crossroads
Eric watched out the back window as the group of zombies started to separate. The zombies who were still able to walk began pushing up out of the scrum of bodies and pulling their legs under themselves. The zombies who were now crippled tried to pull themselves out from the bottom of the pile of bodies but failed. As more zombies got to their feet the one who could no longer walk began clawing their way forward the flesh of their hands and fingers shredding on the asphalt as the desperately pulled themselves forward.
A part of Eric knew he should feel sorry for them. For the people they had been before they had been bitten. He truly was sorry for those people, the soccer moms, the husbands, the children, but he didnt care at all about the ravenous and dead things they had become.
The patrol car moved at a slower pace now cruising at about ten miles an hour. Eric wondered if Officer Sanchez was pulling off the gas to give anyone still alive a chance to break for the car and save themselves. Eric fought the urge to ask.
Eric turned back to stare out the window of the patrol car. He watched as the eight or so zombies who still managed to walk split into two smaller group, a handful still pursuing the cop car, three others peeling off and tramping hedges and flowerbeds as they started towards a house to Erics right. Shouldnt we be checking the houses for survivors? he asked over his shoulder.
Cant, Sanchezs voice was low but firm. He had assumed the role of lead Officer with Davis death and Eric wasnt going to argue with the mans authority but he didnt like the blunt finality of the Hispanic officers words. Eric used the rearview mirror to watch Sanchezs eyes. They were distance with only the slightest hint of activity. He was in shock. Eric had seen it in the E.R. enough to know. Sanchez believed what he was seeing and was responding as best he could but his mind was shutting out the parts of his new reality that the officer just couldnt handle.
We dont have enough bullets to go house to house looking for survivors. Kirk had jumped into the gap of the conversation sensing both mens internal struggles threatening to spill into open conflict. Theres what, fifty homes on this quarter mile stretch of road alone? Maybe more? Assuming between three to five occupants per house and assuming theyve all been bitten already were looking at a hundred and fifty to two-hundred and fifty zombies to kill. We dont even have enough bullets to kill that many of them assuming every shot was prefect and youre not that good of a shot Eric.
Erics neck flushed in anger but he held his tongue. He knew it was a true statement. If he managed to make every third shot count then hed be doing better than he did at the gun range.
Before Eric could stay anything Kirk continued, Then you have to figure that zombies from other streets might follow the sound of the gunfire and wed be swarmed and dead in minutes. If there are survivors we have to hope they can take care of themselves until we can organize a rescue.
Beside we dont have much gas either. Eric watched through the safety partition as Sanchezs chin dipped to his chest and his eyes fell on the gas gauge. Eric couldnt see it from his seat so he was stuck waiting for Sanchez to report on their fuel status. He didnt have to wait more than a second, we just dipped below a quarter of a tank.
Who much in gallons does that mean? Eric asked trying to figure out how far away from the madness swallowing Spokane they could get it need be. Guilt swept over him as that thought jumped to his mind. He hadnt thought about Lindsey. How she was doing, was she alive, and should he try to save her. His mind had forced her out of his head in the few minutes since his life had first been threatened. He was ashamed his subconscious mind had abandoned her so quickly.
About four gallons of gas maybe get us sixty to eighty miles. Sanchezs voiced was hallowed out by the primal state his mind had devolved to. His thoughts would be on little else but escape until the shock wore off.
Thatll get us to Ritzville but not much father, far enough away from this mess though. Kirk was calculating the miles per gallon the cruiser would get against their fuel supply. Eric didnt care his thoughts were focused elsewhere.
Were they real going to abandon Spokane and the pockets of survivors that might be holding their own against the dead? These were two police officers, trained men who confronted difficult and deadly situations every day. Would they really leave their friends and loved ones behind? Was it any different for Eric? He hadnt given Lindsey more than a brief moment of thought since the officers had shattered his world.
The car slowed further as the cruiser approached the intersection of 37th and Grand. Eric turned his eyes back to the cluster of zombies ambling towards the car. Eric wasnt a gun nut, wasnt a survivalist, wasnt a fighter, he wasnt the tough guy type. This world of the dead, the dying, and the few fighting to stay alive was a world he wasnt equipped for. He was alive but because of other better trained men then him and one of them had died saving him. A better man then Eric.
Eric looked out the front window of the patrol car. Across the street was a grocery store. Somewhere near two dozen cars, vans, and SUVs sat silent and reverent like headstones. Eric could see a grey SUV with its passenger door open. The grey interior of the door was splattered with blood like an artist tossing a can of paint on a canvas. Eric thought he could see a car seat back there. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him; they were over fifty yards away. Erics vision drifted to the other side of the street where his eyes fell on an elementary school. The four storey brick structure looked like a fortress from the outside but the bloody hand print on the window of one of the lower floor class room poked a hole in that faade. Eric turned away from the scenes across the street.
Staring through the back window at the zombies as they staggered and lurched with uneven steps closer to the patrol car something broke inside Eric. His soft reality of social media updates, videogame binges, streaming internet videos, and twenty-four hour TV was gone. That world was dead, deader than the creatures stumbling towards Eric and the two police officers. He looked at Baxter sitting on the seat next to him. Eric scratched the behind the dogs left ear for a second. The buzz of conversation in the front seat of the two officers talking about the best course of action was unintelligible in Erics ears. As they continued to debate their next move Eric leaned in a whispered to his dog, stay put.
Eric grabbed the door handle with his left hand and threw his shoulder against it. The force of his body against side of the car forced the door open and Eric jumped out. He raised his Springfield Armor pistol up putting his hand on the slide and pulling back chambering a round. He raised the gun in front of him elbows slightly bent and stared down the barrel at the closest zombie. He pulled the trigger slowly like his Grandpa had taught him and watched down the sight as the bullet caught the zombie just above the right eye and blew blood and grey matter out the back of the creatures head.
Eric quickly swiveled to the left and fired as soon as his sights settled on another head. Eric squeezed the trigger and another zombies head jerked back with the impact of the bullet. He turned a quarter inch to the left and fired a quick shot as the black eye of the barrel lined up with the third zombie. The zombie, a late teenager boy crumpled backward like a marionette with its strings cut. Eric swung back to his right and fired two shots in four seconds and the last of the little band of zombies that had been following them for nearly a quarter mile fell to the ground truly dead this time.
Erics arm fell to his side and rested against his thigh. He could feel the heat from the barrel of the gun through his jeans. The sulfuric smell of burned gun powder hung heavy in the air and fed the high Eric was riding. He started to shake uncontrollably. His eyes drifted to the dead bodies laying in the road. His eyes stayed there until the clean shaved face of Kirk swept into his line of sight. The man had Eric by the shoulders and was shaking him. Eric was just coming back to reality catching Kirk in mid sentence.
had to hear that. Weve got zombies in the school and the grocery store and all these houses. What the hell were you thinking? Kirk was furious his fingers digging deep into the flesh of Erics shoulders.
Eric turned from the officer without a word and walked back to the patrol car. Eric ducked his head into the back seat and spoke to Sanchez, theres a gas station on the other side of that gym. Eric pointed with his left hand at a forty-five degree angle
Alright get in. Sanchez said he jerked his head backward signaling Eric to climb back in the car.
Eric climbed in without a word. He set the pistol down on the seat next to his left hip and stretched his right hand out to scratch Baxter behind the ears again.
Kirk climbed into the passenger seat a few seconds later slamming the door with more force than was necessary. What the hell was that crap? You could have killed us all you prick.
I couldnt sit do nothing, Erics words felt like they were drifting out of some deep dark cave as they echoed in his ears. How many people will those things kill or turn before someone like use kills them, three, five, more? I just gave at least five people a better chance to live.
Kirk was still flustered and angry. He looked like he wanted to spit some nasty words at Eric but Sanchezs voice silenced the junior officer with just two words, numbers game. Kirk turned to look at his senior officer and Eric threw his two cents in before Kirk could muster an argument.
The more of us left alive the more of us there are to kill those things. Eric settled back into the seat for the short trip to the gas station one block away as Kirks jaw hung open in stunned silence.
Crossroads
Eric watched out the back window as the group of zombies started to separate. The zombies who were still able to walk began pushing up out of the scrum of bodies and pulling their legs under themselves. The zombies who were now crippled tried to pull themselves out from the bottom of the pile of bodies but failed. As more zombies got to their feet the one who could no longer walk began clawing their way forward the flesh of their hands and fingers shredding on the asphalt as the desperately pulled themselves forward.
A part of Eric knew he should feel sorry for them. For the people they had been before they had been bitten. He truly was sorry for those people, the soccer moms, the husbands, the children, but he didnt care at all about the ravenous and dead things they had become.
The patrol car moved at a slower pace now cruising at about ten miles an hour. Eric wondered if Officer Sanchez was pulling off the gas to give anyone still alive a chance to break for the car and save themselves. Eric fought the urge to ask.
Eric turned back to stare out the window of the patrol car. He watched as the eight or so zombies who still managed to walk split into two smaller group, a handful still pursuing the cop car, three others peeling off and tramping hedges and flowerbeds as they started towards a house to Erics right. Shouldnt we be checking the houses for survivors? he asked over his shoulder.
Cant, Sanchezs voice was low but firm. He had assumed the role of lead Officer with Davis death and Eric wasnt going to argue with the mans authority but he didnt like the blunt finality of the Hispanic officers words. Eric used the rearview mirror to watch Sanchezs eyes. They were distance with only the slightest hint of activity. He was in shock. Eric had seen it in the E.R. enough to know. Sanchez believed what he was seeing and was responding as best he could but his mind was shutting out the parts of his new reality that the officer just couldnt handle.
We dont have enough bullets to go house to house looking for survivors. Kirk had jumped into the gap of the conversation sensing both mens internal struggles threatening to spill into open conflict. Theres what, fifty homes on this quarter mile stretch of road alone? Maybe more? Assuming between three to five occupants per house and assuming theyve all been bitten already were looking at a hundred and fifty to two-hundred and fifty zombies to kill. We dont even have enough bullets to kill that many of them assuming every shot was prefect and youre not that good of a shot Eric.
Erics neck flushed in anger but he held his tongue. He knew it was a true statement. If he managed to make every third shot count then hed be doing better than he did at the gun range.
Before Eric could stay anything Kirk continued, Then you have to figure that zombies from other streets might follow the sound of the gunfire and wed be swarmed and dead in minutes. If there are survivors we have to hope they can take care of themselves until we can organize a rescue.
Beside we dont have much gas either. Eric watched through the safety partition as Sanchezs chin dipped to his chest and his eyes fell on the gas gauge. Eric couldnt see it from his seat so he was stuck waiting for Sanchez to report on their fuel status. He didnt have to wait more than a second, we just dipped below a quarter of a tank.
Who much in gallons does that mean? Eric asked trying to figure out how far away from the madness swallowing Spokane they could get it need be. Guilt swept over him as that thought jumped to his mind. He hadnt thought about Lindsey. How she was doing, was she alive, and should he try to save her. His mind had forced her out of his head in the few minutes since his life had first been threatened. He was ashamed his subconscious mind had abandoned her so quickly.
About four gallons of gas maybe get us sixty to eighty miles. Sanchezs voiced was hallowed out by the primal state his mind had devolved to. His thoughts would be on little else but escape until the shock wore off.
Thatll get us to Ritzville but not much father, far enough away from this mess though. Kirk was calculating the miles per gallon the cruiser would get against their fuel supply. Eric didnt care his thoughts were focused elsewhere.
Were they real going to abandon Spokane and the pockets of survivors that might be holding their own against the dead? These were two police officers, trained men who confronted difficult and deadly situations every day. Would they really leave their friends and loved ones behind? Was it any different for Eric? He hadnt given Lindsey more than a brief moment of thought since the officers had shattered his world.
The car slowed further as the cruiser approached the intersection of 37th and Grand. Eric turned his eyes back to the cluster of zombies ambling towards the car. Eric wasnt a gun nut, wasnt a survivalist, wasnt a fighter, he wasnt the tough guy type. This world of the dead, the dying, and the few fighting to stay alive was a world he wasnt equipped for. He was alive but because of other better trained men then him and one of them had died saving him. A better man then Eric.
Eric looked out the front window of the patrol car. Across the street was a grocery store. Somewhere near two dozen cars, vans, and SUVs sat silent and reverent like headstones. Eric could see a grey SUV with its passenger door open. The grey interior of the door was splattered with blood like an artist tossing a can of paint on a canvas. Eric thought he could see a car seat back there. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him; they were over fifty yards away. Erics vision drifted to the other side of the street where his eyes fell on an elementary school. The four storey brick structure looked like a fortress from the outside but the bloody hand print on the window of one of the lower floor class room poked a hole in that faade. Eric turned away from the scenes across the street.
Staring through the back window at the zombies as they staggered and lurched with uneven steps closer to the patrol car something broke inside Eric. His soft reality of social media updates, videogame binges, streaming internet videos, and twenty-four hour TV was gone. That world was dead, deader than the creatures stumbling towards Eric and the two police officers. He looked at Baxter sitting on the seat next to him. Eric scratched the behind the dogs left ear for a second. The buzz of conversation in the front seat of the two officers talking about the best course of action was unintelligible in Erics ears. As they continued to debate their next move Eric leaned in a whispered to his dog, stay put.
Eric grabbed the door handle with his left hand and threw his shoulder against it. The force of his body against side of the car forced the door open and Eric jumped out. He raised his Springfield Armor pistol up putting his hand on the slide and pulling back chambering a round. He raised the gun in front of him elbows slightly bent and stared down the barrel at the closest zombie. He pulled the trigger slowly like his Grandpa had taught him and watched down the sight as the bullet caught the zombie just above the right eye and blew blood and grey matter out the back of the creatures head.
Eric quickly swiveled to the left and fired as soon as his sights settled on another head. Eric squeezed the trigger and another zombies head jerked back with the impact of the bullet. He turned a quarter inch to the left and fired a quick shot as the black eye of the barrel lined up with the third zombie. The zombie, a late teenager boy crumpled backward like a marionette with its strings cut. Eric swung back to his right and fired two shots in four seconds and the last of the little band of zombies that had been following them for nearly a quarter mile fell to the ground truly dead this time.
Erics arm fell to his side and rested against his thigh. He could feel the heat from the barrel of the gun through his jeans. The sulfuric smell of burned gun powder hung heavy in the air and fed the high Eric was riding. He started to shake uncontrollably. His eyes drifted to the dead bodies laying in the road. His eyes stayed there until the clean shaved face of Kirk swept into his line of sight. The man had Eric by the shoulders and was shaking him. Eric was just coming back to reality catching Kirk in mid sentence.
had to hear that. Weve got zombies in the school and the grocery store and all these houses. What the hell were you thinking? Kirk was furious his fingers digging deep into the flesh of Erics shoulders.
Eric turned from the officer without a word and walked back to the patrol car. Eric ducked his head into the back seat and spoke to Sanchez, theres a gas station on the other side of that gym. Eric pointed with his left hand at a forty-five degree angle
Alright get in. Sanchez said he jerked his head backward signaling Eric to climb back in the car.
Eric climbed in without a word. He set the pistol down on the seat next to his left hip and stretched his right hand out to scratch Baxter behind the ears again.
Kirk climbed into the passenger seat a few seconds later slamming the door with more force than was necessary. What the hell was that crap? You could have killed us all you prick.
I couldnt sit do nothing, Erics words felt like they were drifting out of some deep dark cave as they echoed in his ears. How many people will those things kill or turn before someone like use kills them, three, five, more? I just gave at least five people a better chance to live.
Kirk was still flustered and angry. He looked like he wanted to spit some nasty words at Eric but Sanchezs voice silenced the junior officer with just two words, numbers game. Kirk turned to look at his senior officer and Eric threw his two cents in before Kirk could muster an argument.
The more of us left alive the more of us there are to kill those things. Eric settled back into the seat for the short trip to the gas station one block away as Kirks jaw hung open in stunned silence.