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  The teeth bit into her long black braids, through the grey sweat shirt and she could feel the creature shaking its head back and forth like a pit bull playing tug a war with a piece of rope. Two ghouls were making their way under the bent garage door and started crawling toward Samantha. Sam covered her face in fear not knowing what to do as she watched the ghoul rip at her mother. Her feet were made of lead and her legs jello. She wanted to do something. She wanted to pull her mother out, but her feet would not move and she could not pull her hands from her face. Her mind raced with hundreds of scenes that she could not comprehend. Thousands of thoughts jammed into clouds that fogged her mind as she watched her mother get pulled into the ghoul’s mouth. Then the sound of groaning blew the clouds from her mind and she turned in the direction of one zombie beginning to stand and another one crawling inches from grabbing her leg. She forced her heavy feet and week legs to jump into the truck. Sam slammed the door and then began to scream. It was a blood curdling cry that made all other sound impossible to hear. It was just then that one of the undead smashed its shedding skin up against her window.

  A loud pop and then a deafening ring sounded in Naomi’s and Sam’s ears. Naomi fell back against Sam as she was released from the grasp of the undead. She pulled the rest of the hoodie off over her head and looked up to see Mr. Cook with his riffle in his hand.

  He had walked to the side of the ghoul that shook wildly and placed the barrel against the side of its head and eliminated the mad beast. “Get out of here, I’ll open the garage.” He mouthed out the words, but Naomi only heard two things, the low tone in her ears from the gun shot and the ear piercing sound of Sam screaming.

  Cook began to pull down on the chain to open the roll up door, but the truck had knocked it out of the track, making it very difficult to do so. It was moving opening, but very slowly. With each forced pull on the chain the old man would have to reach higher for another pull. Every effort moved it slightly popping the door back into the track.

  More undead began to crawl under the door as it reached a little more than quarter of the way open and the zombies soon began to crouch under it. Mr. Cook backed away from their prying and clawing hands trying to work the chain. He could not move away from them any further and work the chain, so he let go. He backed away from the door and drew his rifle. “You have to go! You have to get out of here,” he screamed as he lined his sights on the closest ghoul, crawling on it’s hands and knees. It did not take the time to stand up and reached with excitement as it got closer.

  Naomi heard him scream something as the tone in her ears started to fade, but Sam’s screaming muffled any coherency from his voice. She watched him move closer to the truck through the rear view mirror and then she was able to make out one of the white dogs running through the kitchen toward the garage house door. Behind the white dog was a horde of undead that had filled the house shoulder to shoulder, as they made their way toward the fleeing animal.

  One, two, three shots rang out one after the other as the crawling zombie dropped. He was at the drivers side window now and turned to Naomi. “Get out of here! Go!” She was able to make out what he screamed, but only because she was able to read his eyes and him mouthing out the word go. Sam was still screaming with her legs pulled up to her chest and her hands cupping her ears.

  She pulled the shifter into reverse and that made Mr. Cook believe she had finally snapped out of the daze and was actually going to leave. He lined his rifle on another undead and fired dropping the next one that was behind the crawling zombie. He was walking backward toward the garages house door when he noticed a white blur shoot out from around his legs. He turned to the door to see a wall of undead making its way toward the garage.

  Naomi looked into the rear view mirror and saw nothing, except for the upper torsos of undead that had made their way under the roll up door. She floored the gas as she released the clutch and the truck jolted backward and jutted up and down as the tires ran over whatever undead were behind her. Shards of class flew all around Naomi and Sam’s heads, as the cab hit the garage door, breaking the back windows and stopping the truck.

  The wheels spun out from under them and smoke from the tires began to fill the garage. The undead around the truck now focused on the Mr. Cook who was standing in between two walls of undead making their way toward him. Undead were piling under the garage door and now fighting to get out of the house door and into the garage.

  Naomi pushed the blue truck into drive and moved forward next to Mr. Cook. He made eye contact with her. He stood perfectly still as Naomi pushed the truck back into reverse and began to move backward. The old man looked at Naomi and said as if he were saying a prayer, “God please forgive me.” He put the barrel under his chin.

  The truck moved backward as Naomi watched Mr. Cook pull the trigger. Nothing happened as hands came within inches from grabbing him. He looked panicked. She saw him pulling the trigger multiple times hoping the gun would fire and relieve him of the death he was about to experience. Hands covered him and pulled him down to the ground. He screamed in fear, pain and agony as the undead began to eat him alive.

  The Chevy hit the bottom of the roll up door again, pulling it further from the tracks and then releasing them from the garage. They flew backward running over the rough ground, as they drove off the drive way and over whatever ghouls happened to be behind them.

  She stopped in the middle of the yard and turned the head lights on which revealed hundreds of undead wrapping around the house, with the exception of the path she made full of undead that were crushed, writhing trying to get back to their feet.

  Hundreds of glowing eyes turned to the vehicle and focused on the lights. The undead that were walking around the house and not trying to get into the garage turned to the truck. She spun the wheel away from the house and toward the main gate. The head lights shined on the open front gate and she felt relief wash over her. She saw no undead by the gate and as she made it onto the street, she saw that it was clear.

  Chapter 10

  Trust

  “Just over the bridge is Good Hope Landing,” Eric said as he swung his heavy back pack over his shoulders. “I know a guy from there. We could stop by and hopefully get some rest.”

  A cool breeze on the bridge blew over their faces that gave both of them a sense of relief from the hot September sun. The first few steps on the bridge were easy. The bumpers of the jam-packed cars were either touching the rear bumpers of the one in front of it or they were so close they could not physically shimmy to the other side unless they walked on top of them. A quick look through the vacant vehicles and Eric began to imagine all the people trying to move closer to the car in front of them honking and hollering at each other thinking that they could move a little bit faster. He thought about the people trying to leave, looking through their rearview mirrors, seeing waves of other travelers fleeing from their cars and having a mob of undead running or shuffling quickly and relentlessly after the fleeing travelers. Some of the vehicles were, so close to each other they would not have been able to open their doors, making climbing out the windows the only option. They peered into a few cars with interiors covered with random body parts and blood. No bodies were left in them, but by the looks of the broken windows Eric could picture zombies reaching in with gnashing teeth and grasping claws that grabbed at anything alive.

  “We’ll stick to the right side of the bridge. That way we only need to watch straight ahead and to our left.” Eric said as he guided Drew to the right side of the bridge. He thought of everyone leaving their possessions and running straight ahead away from the mob of undead. How many families were separated during this time and how many families were trampled by the retreating travelers? The road was relatively clean; meaning there were no bodies and too much bloodshed on this part of the bridge. They became used to the bridges and main roads filled with mutilated corpses with hardly any muscle left on them. As they passed one of the vehicles they noticed a blue cooler left in the back sea
t of a light blue Saturn.

  “Score,” Drew said and reached for the cooler. He struggled a little bit to remove it, but pulled it free from the hot car. Upon inspection the cooler contained a few sandwiches that were green with mold, a couple bags of chips and a couple oatmeal cookies sitting in a puddle of dirty water. Drew grabbed hold of one of the oatmeal cookies and tore open the wrapper. This was the first time Eric has seen him smile since before his mother’s death. Drew looked up with his cookie in his hand and the smile on his face reached from ear to ear. Eric smiled at him and opened one of the bags of chips.

  They were coming to the top of the bridge and the wind began to pick up. It was a beautiful morning and while they enjoyed the cool breeze, a foul odor of decay hung in the wind. Eric took note that they were downwind from the rest of the bridge and knew they may encounter some unwanted travelers. Drew took note of this as well.

  He looked at Eric and held his nose indicating he could smell the dead. In the panic of the waves of running people, the drivers of the cars pulled to the shoulder of the road to move up in line faster. That was a good idea, but when hundreds of other stuck and scared drivers did the same thing, they just made the traffic tighter on themselves. They approached the first car that blocked their path. It was pulled in front of them on an angle. Eric climbed over the sedan and stood on its hood. From here he could see most of the bridge with the exception of two tractor trailers that blocked almost the entire north bound lanes. From the looks of it they were standing at the cleanest and most organized part of the bridge. Beyond the sedan lay pools of blood and broken glass from every one of the vehicles and off in the distance a few zombies could be seen wandered back and forth in between the cars.

  Eric grabbed hold of Drew’s arm and pulled him onto the hood of the sedan and knelt down on one knee. “We’re gonna have to start walking in the middle of the bridge.” He pointed to a path of cars down the center. “We can’t keep climbing over the cars.”

  They had to climb over a few cars to get to the middle and each time they climbed they timed it so the ghouls were turned away from them. On the down side of the bridge there were obvious signs of a fight and there were a lot of casualties. They started making tracks in the coagulated blood between the cars; checking every vehicle they passed while trying not to be seen.

  In their slow moving caution, they both jumped when a gnarled hand darted from the front of a car’s bumper just three feet from Eric’s foot. It grabbed a piece of intestine from a lucky corpse that was too badly eaten to become animated. If it were not for Eric standing next to the tire he may have been spotted.

  He signaled Drew to step backwards and move between the two cars on their right to go behind this undead passenger. They moved slowly never turning their backs on the zombie. As Eric stepped in between the cars the ghoul could be seen with the organ shoved in its mouth. The back of its skull was exposed and part of its grey skin was pulled up over the top of its head.

  Moving between the tight squeeze of the cars to the right, Eric was focused on getting behind this one and putting it out of its misery. With bat in hand he moved forward toward the eating undead. Just then Eric felt himself lifted off his feet and he was pulled back to the car on his right. As he was pulled back toward the car, he slipped on the coagulated blood that was spread in deep puddles next to the car. He was forcefully pulled against the car making the horn go off.

  Drew saw the hand reach out from the red Impala’s window and pull his backpack into the car. With each pull of the backpack the ghoul inside hit the horn making it blast. He recognized Eric was in no immediate danger. His backpack was large and the zombie would not be able to fit him through the window with his backpack attached, so Drew quickly scanned the bridge. Undead appeared in every direction. Either twisting around a car or standing from behind one to see what the commotion was about. One was walked directly in front of them from down the bridge. No cars were between them and the surprised undead and the ghoul took off in a sprint running up the bridge toward them. It had been a while since they had seen a runner and as it ran, it let out a screech.

  The horn blasting with each pull acted as a dinner bell for every zombie on either side of the bridge. Drew thought that the undead from the town on the other side of the bridge were leaving their houses just to visit this dinner. He took his hatchet, from his belt and tried to get a shot on the unbreakable hold of the ghoul’s hand, but the backpack was pulled into the window too far. Eric struggled to get it off, but every time he went to stand, the tug of the backpack made him slip on the coagulated blood. Drew opened the back door and climbed in behind the undead driver.

  The ghoul, still buckled into the driver’s seat, was reaching across it’s body and grabbed hold of Eric’s pack with his right hand. The damage that was inflicted on the ghoul looked as if the zombies ate his entire left side. He was missing his left arm, with nothing but loose ripped clothing left to cover his exposed left side of his body. The ghoul opened and closed it’s mouth trying to groan, but was silent from it’s throat being ripped away.

  Drew raised his hatchet as much as he possibly could and swung it down on the ghoul’s head. He connected, but did minimal damage because the head rest blocked most of his swing. The undead driver let go of the backpack and twisted in its seat and grabbed at Drew; as if he were an angry parent reaching to slap one of his kids. Drew flinched back, hitting the back seat hard rocking the car.

  Now that Eric was not being pulled back, he shook his backpack off. To his right he saw the running zombie moving faster and the crouching zombie behind the car, stand up, as the organs it just ate fell from its ripped open stomach and flopped onto the car’s hood. Eric quickly thought that this undead could constantly eat the same meal over and over again by simply picking up the contents that fell from its stomach.

  Shaking, Eric reached into his belt trying to pull the pistol from the front of his pants. The running ghoul was getting closer. It wore black pants with no shoes or socks and had a bare chest that revealed multiple deep gashes that spewed lines of black blood. It tore at the cars pushing itself forward in an attempt to reach its victim faster. Blood and gore sprayed from its mouth as it continually bellowed out it’s piercing screech.

  He began to skip backward while trying to pull his stuck pistol from his pants. After he pulled it he lined the iron sights of the pistol with the ghouls face and pulled the trigger. The hammer fell, but no bullet fired. Eric skipped faster creating more distance, pulling the trigger franticly, but got the same result and the creature got closer with each step.

  Eric turned and began to run. He knew the ghoul was getting closer because the sound of his feet hitting the concrete was getting louder. He tried to examine the pistol while he ran and hit a crashed car parked in front of him. He began to climb over the car when he felt two powerful hands grab hold of his shirt and pulled him down off the hood of the car. Eric saw that the gun was missing something and quickly realized the safety was on. He flipped the safety revealing the red dot arming the pistol and pulled the slide loading another round.

  The ghoul pulled at him, as if he were weightless, sending him flying in whatever way the zombie pleased. Eric tried to slip from his shirt like a sleeve, but his right hand that was holding the pistol got stuck in the sleeve.

  Drew dodged the flailing ghoul strapped into the driver’s seat. It reached behind into the back seat trying to twist and free itself, but the shoulder strap and lap belt kept the zombie tightly in the driver side seat. It arched its back attempting to break the strap, trying to scream, but black and crimson bubbles gurgled from its mangled throat.

  Drew swung his silver hatchet at its face, but most of the swings were stopped by the head rest. Only a few actually connected and the ones that did dug deep into the creature’s skinless face. He took another swing with the hatchet and noticed something moving toward the window to his left. Multiple ghouls were making their way toward his window.

  They hit the window making
him jump back to the passenger side, while hugging the back seat to avoid the wild swing and reaches from an almost blind zombie; due to the multiple hatchet wounds. He pressed against the back door and then heard something shuffle behind him. Drew was too slow to react to the hands that reached through the window and grabbed hold of his shoulders. The boney cold dead fingers dug deep into his slender shoulders and began to pull him out of the car. Drew tried to slide down into his seat, but the ghoul’s deathly tight grip kept him from getting away.

  He swung the hatchet above his head and connected with the ghoul as it tried to bite down on him. He pulled the blade out and felt thick blood with the consistency of syrup pour over his head. The ghoul’s blood slowly rolled over his eyes. He shut his them as tight as he could and began to wipe franticly. He knew he could not get the blood in his eyes or mouth or he would change. He shoved his axe straight up to the car’s roof connecting with the ghoul again. With his eyes closed he pressed up with his axe creating some distance between the creature’s hungry mouth and it’s grip. Drew slid to his back and tried to raise his legs in an attempt to press them against the ghoul.

  He pressed his feet up to the roof of the car and found the creatures head. Drew could feel the ghoul fighting the pressure he was putting on it. He strained his legs trying to crush it’s skull between his feet and the roof of the Impala. The ghoul in the driver’s seat grabbed at his legs and tried to pull them toward it. He pressed hard ignoring the driver and felt the cushions of the back seat compress under the weight he was pushing. He ducked his head under his shirt and strained to crush the zombie’s head. He felt a snap and suddenly his left foot got a little closer to the roof of the car. The creature continued to struggle, but Drew let out a grunt, released the pressure and pressed hard again. The skull of the ghoul felt as if it was a soda can compressing under his feet and then cold thick blood began to crawl down his pants legs.