Dead Ones

Chapter 28: Whispering

The thundering sound of hundreds of pairs of feet grew louder evermore. The whispers of the dead echoed through the trunks of trees standing proud and tall. The Screamer clawed its way through the trees above us like a large, four-legged spider. There was fighting going on all around me. Sophie was stuck in a struggle with a dead one. While she fought, another one approached her from behind. I struck the dead one over the back of the head with the back of my forearm. It shuttered and turned to face me. I pressed the barrel of the shotgun against the side of its face and pulled one of the triggers. Flesh and bone exploded away from the rotten fleshy body. The corpse dropped to the ground limply. Sophie finished off the dead one in front of her. She turned to me briefly. "Thanks for that," she said with a smile. "Don't mention it," I replied. I popped open the gun and exchanged the empty shell for a fresh one. Juggernaut was the first one to break free from the dead ones around him. He propped up next to a tree and let his machine gun rip into the crowd of the fast approaching dead. Many of the ones in the front of the crowd buckled and fell, being trampled by the ones behind them. The Screamer positioned itself in the tree above Juggernaut and began climbing down the trunk towards the big man. I raised my gun but I wasn't quick enough. Moments before the foul creature got to Juggernaut, an arrow flew by my head. No sooner had the outstretched claw of the Screamer ripped through the stuffed monkey on Juggernaut's shoulder, the arrow impacted it on the right shoulder blade. The creature halted instantly, raised its head, let out a scream of agony, then turned and rushed back up the tree trunk. I took two shots from my shotgun at it but missed both as it traveled from tree to tree. I turned to see the source of the arrow. David was holding his bow outstretched, still aimed in the direction of the shot. "I appreciate you not hitting me with that," I said. He lowered the bow and nodded. A dead one approached him from behind. I aimed my shotgun and squeezed the trigger, but it was empty. Quickly, David yanked the mace off of his belt and whipped it around with enough speed to cave in the side of the dead one's skull. He was an impressive fighter. I knew why he was fighting too. He wanted a future for his daughter. I popped open the shotgun and reloaded two rounds into it. The group cleared the dead ones that had sprung up around us. I took a count of everyone, making sure they were all okay. Dr. Charlie was cowering by a tree, trembling while holding his pistol at his side. I grabbed him by the cuff of his coat and forced him to his feet. I pulled him in close. "You see all those dead ones out there running at us?" I asked. "Y-yeah," he stammered. "Good. Shoot that way," I said, releasing him. He paused for a moment, but then listened to my words and directed a few pot-shots in the direction of the approaching enemy. "John!" I shouted over the gun fire. He shopped shooting for a moment and looked at me. "When they get close, give em hell!" I shouted. He nodded. He slipped off his backpack and pulled out two pipe explosives and the 70-150 rifle from the bag. He opened the bolt of the lever gun and loaded in five rounds. I hoped they were all HE rounds. We needed all the blunt force damage we could use right now. The horde got within about fifty yards from us. John ignited the pipe explosives and hurled them to his left and to his right into the crowd of the dead. He then raised his rifle. He fired a single shot into the center of the mass of the dead. At the point of impact, the two improvised explosives detonated. Three loud explosions sounded, shaking the trees and disorienting the group of the dead. Body parts and blood particles rained down from the sky. John racked the lever and fired again. The dead one the bullet hit detonated and a few others around it also dropped to the ground. Again, he racked the lever. He shot another dead one in the head. Bits of skull fragments and brains came flying back at us. He dumped the last two shots into the crowd. After he was finished he slipped off his backpack again and slid the rifle back inside. He pulled out an incendiary grenade and chucked it into the crowd. When it detonated, the surrounding dead ones were torn to bits and set alight. The fire spread quickly from one animated corpse to the other. John stood again with his shotgun at the ready. Juggernaut continued to let flurries of bullets spray into the masses. Together, with everyone concentrating their fire, we thinned the ranks of the dead rushing us. The number almost looked manageable. I fired my shotgun until I had two shots left in total. I reloaded the shotgun and set it aside in some brambles, in case I needed those last two shells. I pulled my pistol from my holster. I let out a primal war cry and began sprinting in the direction of the dead ones. I ran past my fellows and as I passed I saw them look at me with confused or intimidated expressions on their faces. I hoped that my demonstration of pure bravery or stupidity would motivate them. I got up close to the group of the dead. I fired two shots into the chest of the nearest one. I bent down as I ran full force into it. I grabbed its arm and used its fleshy and bony body as a shield from the teeth and nails of the others. I directed my other arm, placing accurate head shots into the nearby dead. Two in the side of the head. One under the chin. One in the forehead. I brought the gun up to the head of the dead one wrapped around my back and blasted its skull open. I ejected the empty magazine and replaced it with a full one, closing the slide. I cracked the base of the handgun on the skull of a nearby dead one, causing it to fall into the group of the others, slowing them down. I raised my left arm, directing my armored plates outward, protecting my neck from any outwardly reaching fingers. The flowing motion of close quarters combat came back to me. I was like a well oiled machine. Two shots to the torso, one to the head, just like they taught me. People say things move slower when you're in a fight. Not for me. Time was flying past as I dropped the dead heads left and right. Time was moving by so quickly that I had barely noticed that I was almost out of ammo. There were two full magazines left: the one in my gun and the other one in my pocket. That was fourteen rounds. I quickly holstered my handgun. A dead one rushed me and grabbed me by my left arm. I smashed my head against its skull, stunning it momentarily. I clenched my right first and drove a punch purely fueled by rage. My first connected with flesh and bone and broke through both with a sickening crunch. Pain shot up my forearm. Part of that crunch wasn't just the dead one's head. My forearm went numb and began to tingle. I had either sprained it badly or broken something. I pulled my machete out of its sheath with my left hand. I flipped it upwards to the correct holding position. I let out a roar of anger and anguish and swung the blade wildly. Split skulls down the center or clean horizontally in half. Sometimes decapitating the dead ones entirely. My head began to spin as I watched former human beings be obliterated by my own hand. I was shouting with rage and swinging the bladed weapon without a second thought. I wasn't even paying attention to my surroundings. What I heard, I only heard last-second. A second too late. A skittering sound of claws of a tree trunk was sounding somewhere behind me. Something hit me in the back of the head hard. The impact made me black out...