The Virus Within: The Unranked (Book 4)

Ch. 10: To Rescue or To Lecture

The trucks continued honking – a desperate cry for help – as I pelted down the road at my top speed. I was getting closer, but so were the zombies. The people started to shift and panic as they continued to catch up to the exposed trailers. Several threw bows and empty quivers at the zombies, which distracted a couple of them momentarily.

Now that I was closer, I noticed a quarter of the people were covered in soot and bloody bandages. Other than a few pointed sticks and clunky swords, I didn't see any weapons. The people sitting on the edge held the weapons in shaking hands as those behind them held onto their shoulders so they didn't fall off the overcrowded flatbed trailer.

I was halfway there, but four zombies were going to reach them before I did. My lungs heaved for air as I pushed for speed, trying to get close enough to throw the pipes.

Then someone jumped off the trailer.

I snarled as the middle-aged man staggered and almost fell before stumbling to the side, waving his arms and shouting at the zombies. Even if his actions hadn't already caught their attention, the bloody bandage on his leg would have lured them in like sharks.

Numerous people cried out and tried to call him back. A young man also jumped off the trailer, landing with far more grace, and ran between the injured man and the zombies. He waved his arms and shouted as he ran to the side, trying to give the first man a chance to escape. Several on the trailer threw their sharpened sticks but missed the zombies.

Without slowing, I hefted one of the pipes and whipped it forward. The foot-long piece of pipe whooshed through the air, turning end over end, and struck the shoulder of the closest zombie. The zombie was knocked off balance and fell down.

The next pipe was already airborne and slammed into a second zombie's head with a crunch that made both men pale. The third airborne missile took out another zombie, leaving just one running toward the men, unbothered by its companions' fates.

Fortunately for the injured man, the zombie was focused on the closest target, who happened to be much more agile. The first zombie staggered to its feet, but it had fallen behind and wasn't an immediate worry.

As I raced past the trailer, my sudden appearance elicited some surprised screams and attempts to scramble back into the crowd. I ignored them and charged toward the zombie trying to grab the man who was keeping just out of its reach, not bright enough to go after slower prey.

The man's eyes widened when he noticed me, and he turned to run away. On his fifth stride, his shoelace caught on a shrub, sending him tumbling to the ground and prompting more screams from behind me.

I snarled, trying to distract the zombie, but it ignored the sound and hungrily ran toward the meal scrambling backward on the dirt. I launched myself at the zombie, tackling it squarely, then pushed off with my arms to twist midair and land lightly on my feet as it skidded across the dirt. The pounding of horse hooves announced that help was almost here.

As the first zombie ran toward us, mistakenly thinking I was human, I bit back a growl and waited for it to get closer. When it was within reach, I twisted sideways and kicked it hard in the side, sending it flying into the previous zombie who had just stood up. Both went rolling through the shrubs.

A chestnut horse charged past us to intercept other zombies who'd been lagging farther behind and lure them away.

A second rider slowed down as he approached the men. "Can you make it to the Stronghold if we keep the zombies away?"

"Y-yeah," the man with an injured leg said.

The rider nodded and waited for the two zombies thrashing in the bushes to get up. He had to hold onto his horse's reins tightly as it fidgeted and pranced in place, objecting to the smell of zombie blood and my proximity.