After 30 Days

Sixteen - Day 39*

An answering whoop sounded. Reacting on pure instinct, I grabbed Rex by the collar with one hand and pulled my machete free from my belt with the other. I didn't even realize that I'd dove back behind the food stand until I registered the feel of the sun warmed metal against my back.

"Quiet," I whispered to the growling dog. I sent up a prayer of thanks when he actually fell silent. That was quickly followed by a wordless plea when I looked around me and realized that I couldn't see anyone else.

Looking around wildly, I tried to find a safer place to hide. One where a zombie couldn't simply charge around the corner and into me. Many of the stands had been closed up before their operators abandoned them, and they offered no refuge.

My backpack, which had been slung over only one shoulder, slid down even further. It hampered movement in that arm and I realized that I was going to have to let go of Rex. I needed to fix the pack, and I would never be able to effectively swing at a zombie with one hand attached to the dog. Stomach tight with nerves, I reluctantly let go.

Rex was still alertly staring in the direction the zombies had sounded, but he stayed still. I was going to have to trust him.

The carnival grounds had fallen frighteningly silent. The only sounds were the breeze in the grass and trees, and my own harsh panting. The lack of noise was ominous. A cold sweat made my skin clammy. The zombies could have been anywhere.

I'd let Shawn get out of my sight as I wandered between the stands. I thought that he was to my left and not far, but I wasn't certain. With zombies roaming the carnival, twenty feet felt like twenty miles. Fear threatened to freeze me in place, trying to convince me that whichever way I chose, that was the direction I would find bloody death.

I couldn't just stand there. It was too exposed. My friend might need me. I had to move.

Bracing myself, I inched toward the back of the stand. At the back corner I hesitated. Sure that I was about to come face to face with a living nightmare, I took a breath to steady my shaking hands, and stepped around the corner.

A tiny yelp escaped me when I ran straight into a solid body. Jerking back, I untangled myself from reaching arms.

Troubled grey eyes, not wild and blood red, stopped my arm from following through with the machete swing.

Looking equally startled and absolutely terrified, Shawn grabbed for my arm and drug me behind the stand with him. He leaned in to breath in my ear, "They're fast."

I had already guessed that by the screams. Decaying zombies didn't scream, just growled and moaned. I blinked up at Shawn, wanting to talk to him, but too afraid to make any sound. My mind felt almost sluggish, unable to work out how we were going to get back to the car when two zombies were likely between it and us.

Inclining his head, he indicated the direction he wanted to go. I nodded understanding. Keeping close behind him, we slid along the back of the stand. The walkway between rows of food stands was at least ten feet wide. I thought my heart would leapt out of my chest as I darted through the open space.

Around the back side of the next booth, we found Marcus, who appeared to have been waiting for us. He looked momentarily relieved when Shawn rounded the corner with me in tow. The guys must have already worked out a plan, because they didn't hesitate. Marcus led the way as we tried to silently circle the grounds and get back to the car. I kept expecting to run into Brad, but there was no sign of him.

The silence held. I flinched every time someone stepped on a piece of trash, or Rex's tags jingled. The sounds seemed amplified as I strained for any indication of exactly where the zombies were. My hand cramped painfully with the death grip I clutched my machete in. Our progress was slow and seconds crawled by.