Dead Ones

Chapter 22: Quiet

The next day came swiftly. Another sleepless night came before. I had spent the night outside, listening to the sounds of the surrounding area. I left my rifle in my room where I stayed. I began walking to the gate at a comfortable pace. I wanted to scout a small area on the one side of the community to be sure none of the escaped dead ones followed us. I walked up to the gate. Wolf and Rose greeted me. I gestured for Wolf to step away from his post for a moment so I could speak to him alone. "Make sure no one comes looking for me. I won't be long," I said to him in a low tone. "Loud and clear," he said. I stepped outside of the gate. I knew exactly where I wanted to start: The woods. I walked to the treeline and walked along the inside of it. After a few minutes of traveling, I had found what I wanted to find, which was the burned out bus. I approached the charred remains of the vehicle. I placed a foot on the first step into the bus, pressing down hard. The bus creaked under the light pressure. The stability of the frame of the vehicle was questionable. I propelled myself upward anyway, entering the bus fully. The leather coating each of the seats had been burned away. Charred bodies and equipment littered the burnt framework of the seats and the floor. Some of which were trying to climb over one another to escape the once flaming structure. Quite pitiful if you ask me. There was movement stirring from within the bus. A blackened head wearing a helmet rose stiffly from the ashes. It outstretched a charred arm towards me. I watched as it opened its mouth and clacked its teeth hopelessly at me. I raised the bat over my head and brought it down hard, smashing the helmet on its head to pieces. The impact knocked its head against the floor. The shock of the strike shook it free from its captive state. It drug itself across the floor towards me. I stepped backward and raised the bat. A hand reached out from another pile of bodies and ash and grabbed my ankle. I tipped over and fell backwards, dropping the bat just out of reach. I tried to scramble backward, out of the grasp of the hand that held me, but to no avail. Its grip on my ankle was strong. Towards the back of the bus, more bodies began to rise from the ashes and shuffling or crawling towards me. Faint whisperers began to echo through the interior of the hollowed out bus. "It burnssssssss," "You did this to usssss," they whispered. "Help me," whispered a blackened head on the ground laying next to me. I punched it hard in the forehead. "Shut up," I said to it as it smacked against the wall. I drew my pistol from its holster and sat up. I placed the muzzle against the wrist of the hand that held me. I squeezed the trigger, blowing apart flesh and bone. Its hold on me was no more. I pushed hard against the floor to scoot backwards. One of the dead heads stumbled over the hand of the amputated one and fell on top of my legs. I cracked it over the head with the base of the pistol grip, smashing the skull. I grabbed one of the supports of the nearest burnt out seat and helped myself to my feet. I raised my arm and fired a shot through the head of the first dead one in the line. Two others behind it also dropped to the floor limply. I holstered my pistol, bent down and picked up the bat, and made my way to the door quickly. Once outside, I turned to face the open doors of the bus. Slowly, one after another, a blackened armored body would fall out of the open doors and hit the ground hard with a thud. The first one that had fallen, lay there for a moment before attempting to get up. When it tried, another fell on top of it. The top dead one smashed its jaw into the back of the one on the bottom's head. They both struggled to their feet. I raised the bat threateningly. The one that was closer to me veered to the side slightly, as to attempt to avoid me, but something drove it towards me still. I swung the bat hard sideways, cracking it hard against the side of its head. The one behind it, I smashed the bat over its head. The nails on the blunt object were very effective. I looked at the stairs leading into the bus. There was a Crawler making its way down them towards me. Its upper half was blackened and burnt. Its lower half was so incredibly mangled and disfigured that it could not possibly stand. It dragged itself to me. It was now on the ground in front of me. I let it get close. I took a lazy step backwards and swung my right leg back, preparing a blow. "Join us," it whispered to me. I brought my foot down hard, smashing the dried out skull into the dirt. It made a dry and dusty noise upon impact. I climbed back into the bus. I bent down and picked up the speaking head on the ground. It stared at me, lifelessly. I pulled my knife from its sheath and rammed it into the side of its head. I twisted the blade hard and ripped it from the crispy skull. I dropped it onto the ground with a dry thud. I turned and made my way out of the bus for the very last time. I stared and surveyed the quiet of the surrounding area. Since I had fired off two gunshots, the surrounding nature was silent. A twig snapped to my right. I turned my head to see what had disturbed the peace...