Radiation Point

Forty Six

I gripped the rough bark of the tree, praying they wouldn't look up. There was no way they could know where the dart came from. My body shaking, I suppressed a whimper as the ranks of undead marched underfoot.
The first rows of undead marched by without glancing up. My hands were sweaty on the bark of the tree, my hand sliding slightly. As my hand slid, a upraised piece of bark tore at the palm, blood dripping from the red welt.
Clamping my mouth shut, I smothered any noise I would have made from the pain. I sat frozen, my bleeding hand poised in the air. My terror was tangible as I sat perched above the army as they marched past. Blood dripped down my palm, but I didn't dare move, fearing movement would draw their eyes up to me.
It wasn't until the blood fell from my palm that I realized my mistake.
A single drop of blood fell from the tree and splattered onto the shoulder of an undead. He stopped instantly, causing the ranks behind him to stumble.
Then he tilted his head up, his dark eyes meeting mine before his rotting flesh split into a smile.
He had spotted his prey.
Chaos erupted.
He let out a gurgle of delight, reaching a decaying hand to point up to the tree where I sat. The soldiers behind him snapped their heads up to stare at me with hungry eyes. Some even moving to the side of the tree and digging their nails into the bark.
The front of the line fell still when they noticed the commotion. The line would have broken in a mad rush to my tree if it weren't for the undead in the center of the first row. He slammed the spear he was holding-fashioned from the sharpened end of a branch-and growled at the undead around him; his yellow teeth snapping at them threateningly.
The undead around him immediately returned to attention. They once more stood in the straight lines, eyes facing forward-perfect undead soldiers.
The solider with the spear walked back through the ranks to stand at the base of my tree.
My heart was beating out of my chest, as I desperately thought of my options. I could run, but with an army at my heels I wouldn't make it very far. I could fight, but these were more than monsters I would be fighting. They were battle ready soldiers. I could stay, but only on one condition.
That they couldn't climb trees.
The undead at the base of the tree were gurgling in excitement, groans slipping out of their throats as they licked their lips at me. They were getting restless. Even the solider with the spear couldn't control the restless ranks, who were gnashing their teeth at me; looking more like the contaminated I knew so well, rather than soldiers.
Then the spear holder did something that forever shattered my image of the contaminated.
He handed his spear to the undead next to him, his lips twitching as he fought to say a single word.
"Climb."