Chapter Four
AUDREY
"Chris!"
The cry has barely left my mouth before the storage room door is shoved open so hard it hits the wall and cracks the glass panel. The lead Corpse charges toward Chris and he takes it down by slamming the butt of his rifle into its face. Instinctively, I draw my gun and start firing into the pack. Everything around me dissolves into madness and it's all I can do to focus on keeping myself alive. I lose track of Chris and Duke in the mess as I duck behind a shelf for safety and check the clip in my gun. Assured that it's still usable, I roll sideways out into the aisle and take a carefully measured shot into the head of a red-haired Corpse woman. She makes a sickening noise as she crumples to the tile. Not wanting to stay in the eye-line of the Corpses for too long, I pitch myself back into my safe spot.
A hulking Corpse barrels around the corner of my shelf from the other side and I hastily pivot. It has just lunged when I take the shot, and I get it point-blank in the jaw. As it falls I quickly put another bullet in its brain, just in case I missed the first time. I hear a startled shout and round the corner to the next row to see Duke flying through the air. He hits the shelf and slumps to the ground in a heap, and the Corpse that threw him is bearing down hungrily. It takes me three shots before the Corpse's skull fractures and sprays congealed blood across Duke's unconscious figure. I hurry to check his pulse and make sure he's alive - the steady throbbing beneath my fingertips is the most welcome relief - before I straighten up and start searching through the fighting for Chris.
"Chris?" I yell but I can't see him anywhere. The last I saw he'd jumped onto a countertop for better vantage, but he's not there anymore. In fact it seems like all of our party is gone now, their still bodies littering the floor and twisted at grotesque angles as the Corpses tear into them greedily. "Chris!" I'm the only one still up and moving, and as far as I can tell I'm the only one still alive apart from Duke, who hasn't woken up from hitting his head yet.
A Corpse stands up from behind a counter and I feel its clouded eyes fix firmly on me. My heart leaps frantically and I lift my gun as it steps forward. Aim, breathe, squeeze, I remind myself of my gun training. I sight the gun on the Corpse's forehead and, letting out a shaky breath, pull the trigger. The hollow click of the barrel sends a whole new wave of panic through me. Empty. The chamber's empty.
Dropping the useless weapon, I grab the knife on my belt and throw it, hoping to slow the Corpse down enough for me to find a way out. The blade sinks into its chest with a squishy thunk and the Corpse pauses, and for a moment I think I see a look of surprise on its face but then its gone. Couldn't have been there in the first place. Corpses don't have feelings. It's just the terror and adrenaline playing tricks on me. I back up carefully, my eyes panning around for some escape route, but there are clusters of Corpses eating in front of either entrance to the room. There's nothing. My back hits the shelf. I'm trapped. I'm about to die.
My knees go weak and I fall to sit on my heels, curling in on myself defensively. There's blood and gore on the Corpse's chin, in its teeth, as it kneels in front of me, and I hold back a sob. Even if I could get away from this Corpse, there are still a half dozen of them between me and freedom, and that's providing I could outrun them long enough to get to the van. I'm going to die. I hope it doesn't hurt. The Corpse mumbles something, a hoarse, guttural sort of noise and I flinch. I wish it would stop staring at me like that and just get it over with.
"Awh-dree."
My head shoots up and I stare at the Corpse in shock. Did it just...? It was weak and forced, like the word cost it a lot of effort, but I could've sworn it just said my name. But that's impossible. Corpses don't talk. They don't think. And how the hell did it know my name in the first place?
The Corpse meets my gaze with its ghostly blue eyes, wearing an expression of almost self-satisfaction, and dips its head slowly. "Awh-dree."
"How-?" I can't even begin to process this. This Corpse just talked. And not just that, but it said my name. How does it know my name? I glance over the face but it's unfamiliar. Not some lingering memory from before being turned then. Of course not, that's impossible. But then so is talking Corpses and I just saw that happen so...
The Corpse looks around and its brow furrows ever so slightly before it turns back to me. I cringe as it sticks two fingers into the gaping bullet wound in its shoulder and pulls it out covered in the stagnant, muddy blood of a Corpse. It reaches for me and I can't stop myself from flinching away with a whimper. Here it comes. Its going to grab me, hold me in place as it bites in. The Corpse places its hand along the side of my face, dragging its fingers down in a sick imitation of an intimate gesture. I feel the thick, slimy blood smearing down my skin as it does, sticking to my cheek and jaw and neck. The Corpse leans in and sniffs deeply and then sits back on its haunches without so much as touching me.
What the hell is going on here? Why is it drawing this out? I would think it was some twisted, psychological torture except Corpses aren't capable of thinking. So what is this one doing then? It is staring at me with those foggy blue eyes, head tipped just a bit to the left, and beneath the gore and pale skin and scars it almost looks - compassionate.
The Corpse suddenly looks around again as the others start moving and frowns. It stares straight into my eyes - when did Corpses learn to maintain eye contact? - and speaks again. "C-come." Before I even have time to consider what this means, it takes my wrist and tries to tug me up with it. I dig my heels in but all that accomplishes is that the Corpse drags me behind it like a doll. Corpses may look thin and emaciated, but they are deceptively strong and this one is no exception.
After sliding gracelessly along the dirty floor for a few feet I finally get my feet underneath me and manage to stand. The Corpse hasn't broken its stride the entire time, shuffling dutifully across the room after the others.
We're out of the hospital before it occurs to me just what is going on. It's taking me with it, back to wherever this pack of Corpses came from. It's going to take me home and I'm going to be the fresh meat they store away until they get hungry again. I might even be their snack, the thing they take the occasional bite or two from to curb cravings. Is it going to be all of them or just this one? Either way, it's going to be a slow, miserable, painful death. My legs shake beneath me, threatening to collapse, and I can't stop the sob that bubbles out of me.
The pack of Corpses shambles on in silence apart from sporadic groans and scuffing of feet all through the night. I try several times to get away, but I can't break the Corpse's grip on my wrist, and eventually I'm too tired to try anymore. My muscles ache, especially my legs, from the miles we've covered as we travel down the vacant highway. I shake from fear and hunger and exhaustion, and my eyes burn from the tears that I can't control.
Just as the sun is coming up we reach a town, the sort of place that might have once been a charming colonial village but is now a dirty, ghostly remnant of the millions of lives lost. The Corpses are beginning to branch off and go in different directions like they have places to be. Weird, I always thought they stayed in their hunting groups for the most part, that they had formed kind of packs like other predatory animals.
Does this mean I'm destined to be a meal for just the one Corpse? Will it just steadily snack on me until I finally bleed out or die of infection and come back as one of them? The idea is horrific and I make one more bid for freedom with a squeak of, "please." The Corpse turns back to me, its eyes wide with - fear? No, Corpses don't feel fear. It holds a finger up to its lips in a childish gesture for quiet, a motion so human I falter in surprise. The Corpse continues to walk me around the back of a building, the chipped paint in the front window declaring it "Faerie Tale Books." It opens the back door and drags me inside, and then closes the door with a distinctive click.
As soon as the Corpse releases me, I put as much space between us as I can. I press myself back against the wall and return to my defensive foetal position. The adrenaline is starting to ebb and exhaustion has kicked in with a vengeance, and all I can do is curl up and shake, waiting for the inevitable. I watch the Corpse, wanting some warning of when the pain will come, but it doesn't move. It stays in its spot by the door and stares back at me with that unblinking, blue-eyed stare.
"Awh-dree," it stutters out but I don't move. I can't. "No..." it crudely mimes biting, pieces of flesh still in its bloody teeth and I cringe away. "Eat." There's something different about this Corpse. This must be some new evolution in them, the ability to speak and emulate, even if its awkward and poor. They must be changing to become better killers. If I take my eyes off it for a second, it might attack. It cocks its head to the side and lowers its voice as it says, "S-safe."
Then, to my utmost surprise, it turns around and walks back out the way it came, leaving me alone in the empty building. I stare at the closed door in confusion. Did it really just leave? Legs shaking, I stand and peer out of the nearest window but I can't see the Corpse. Does it expect me to just stay here and wait to be eaten later?
I cross to the door and yank it open, ready to run, but freeze. There is a different Corpse on the other side of the wide alleyway and it looks up at the sound of the door. Panicked, I snap the door shut and plant my back against it. It's not safe to run, not yet. There's no way I'd even make it out of town, let alone all the way back to the Compound. The truth rings in my head again.
Trapped...trapped...trapped...
I retreat to the corner, curl in on myself, and give in to the hopelessness and tears.