Fall of the Risen – Week 14 – Clark
It was day four since I’d jumped off of the wall into a sea of zombies and fought my way to the forest surrounding Sisco. A long soak in a nearby stream washed away the blood and guts from dozens of the dead. No bites. Must’ve had a horseshoe up my ass.
There wasn’t much cover around without a car for travel, and I wasn’t getting too far from Sisco. My friends were still in there, and for all I knew they were next to be walled. I couldn’t stop that from happening, but I’d do everything I could to make sure they lived through it.
I floated around a lot. Staying within earshot of the settlement, eating what I could find—which was mainly tree nuts. I could have caught a rabbit or something, but I hadn’t found any supplies for making a fire. I hadn’t found many supplies of any kind.
Jack and I had already found mostly everything in the area surrounding Sisco. Occasionally, I came across a car that had been overlooked or dismissed, but even then, the average car didn’t have a lot to offer. They were pretty useful for sleeping in, though. Safe, protection from the elements, and some of them were even comfortable.
I slowly approached Sisco, staying in the safety of the treeline but close enough to look at my old settlement. It was quiet. It usually was, but seemed even quieter. Maybe it was just my state of mind, or maybe that’s just what we looked like to an outsider.
A low moan sounded behind me. A single zombie was wandering my way. I didn’t know if it had seen me yet, but it was heading my way. Maybe to join the thick ring of dead that eternally surrounded Sisco.
“See that, pal?” I asked the zombie. “That’s Sisco. Not a bad place, by today’s standards. Nice people. Some of them, at least. A few of them suck.”
I wasn’t about to carry around a volleyball with a face on it, but it was nice to talk.
The zombie gurgled a response. It definitely knew I was there.
“I know what you’re going to say. If it’s so nice, what am I doing out here? Just because I got kicked out doesn’t mean I’m going to stay out.”
The zombie’s arm came up as it closed in on me.
“And it doesn’t mean I can’t help protect the place.” I stepped forward, plunging my machete through the zombie’s face. I slowly lowered the corpse to the ground, letting it slide off my blade.
“Thanks for listening.”
I looked at the horde in front of me, stretching around the bend in both directions. It was the same around every foot of the perimeter. Either they noticed people going in and out, or they could smell us.
With my machete in one hand, and my knife in the other, I stepped out of the tree line and gave a battle cry. Only a few zombies turned to look at me, but as they went to the ground with ruined brains their friends started to take notice of me.
This had become a daily ritual for me. Approaching the army of dead from behind enemy lines and slashing until I could barely lift my weapons.
I backpedalled as I fought. The first day I had attacked, I stood in one place and quickly found myself surrounded. I almost went down as a result, so from that day forward, I backpedalled.
By the time I stepped into the treeline, some of the zombies lost sight of me and lost interest, turning back for Sisco’s walls. The few that followed didn’t stand a chance. I was used the trees to impede and confuse them. They died exactly when and how I wanted them to.
I spared a moment to make sure no more zombies were following, and to admire the corpses that marked my trail of destruction. It wasn’t thousands, or even a hundred. All told, there were just over a dozen corpses. With enough persistence and daily attacks—sometimes twice a day—dozens would eventually turn into hundreds, and then thousands. It wasn’t efficient, but it was progress.
I headed toward a small pub that I remembered scavenging with Jack, and hoped there was a room or a cellar that we had missed. Even if there wasn’t, I remembered a few cars sitting in the parking lot. At the very least I’d be able to turn in for the night.
After a quick sweep of the pub, I was pleasantly surprised to find a bit of food. Four days of eating tree nuts and what did I find? A half bag of peanuts. At least they were salted.
In the parking lot, I crawled into a dark blue mini-van. The middle and rear seats folded down into the floor of the vehicle and gave me more than enough room to stretch out. After days of trying to curl up in the backseat of four-doors, it was damn near luxurious. It didn’t run, but I added the keys to my meager belongings and planned to make the van my semi-permanent home.
The way I’d been spending my days was fine so far, but it wouldn’t be enough for much longer. I had my sights set on Sisco and I wasn’t shifting my gaze anytime soon.