"Lane! Fuck! Lane, get up!"
Something slammed on my side of the car, waking me up with a fright. Jumping, I had my blade half out of its sheath in a blink, looking for the threat. I swore. The car was at a stop – why the hell wasn't it moving? – and walkers were surrounding us. They were everywhere, wherever we turned, and more were coming from the woods on the far side of the road.
"Hell Sean, what's happening?! Why aren't we moving?"
"No gas, that's what's happening! There's some in the trunk but there's too many of'em, we can't just go outside and take it!"
See, I told ya we needed someone crazy enough to get beaten up every time shit happens.
Liz hollered. Cradling her head between her thighs, she looked like a fucking babe crying for its mother. She was shaking and I'd bet my finest blade that she'll be sobbing in about two seconds. Neals had Mary-Ann in a protective embrace, his eyes darting from one walker to the other. When they finally landed on me, I saw dread and fright reflected in them. If we were to lose, what would happen to sweet Mary-Ann? She'd be torn limb by limb, that's what.
No way in hell I'd let that happen.
Swearing, I reached for the handle and pushed.
Half a dozen hands immediately rushed through the sudden opening. From the other side of the half opened door, the moans and grunts of the walkers grew deep and frantic. I quaked with fear, almost certain that they would cram on me and bite, everywhere, and tear me to tiny bloody pieces, but then Mary-Ann screamed and the hazy fog of sheer fright which was blinding me suddenly tore and left me bare. My senses exploded with awareness and I felt the familiar rush of adrenaline crashing through my bloodstream. My vision cleared, my hearing had never been so sharp and my hand found its way to my hip. My blade hissed and tore through rotten meat and hollowed bones. One walker fell, then another, and another, until I lost count and just moved. I was a killing machine, something unfeeling but very much alive. My hands were swift and deft, I could feel the deep burning of my straining muscles and knew that there would be hell to pay the day after, if I survived long enough to see it. Sometimes along the fray, Sean and Jay had joined me. I could hear them swearing and grunting, battling with the same fervor as I did. Liz had stopped screaming, and I briefly wondered if she'd fainted on the backseat. The woman was bloody useless in a close fight. Gareth wasn't in the car anymore, I knew, for I heard him shouting at us to make way to the back of the car. In the confusion, it took me a while to register his order – why were we fighting again? – but then I remembered the car, the gas and Mary-Ann, and clung to the threads of consciousness that had emerged among the madness in my mind. Sean and Jay were already fighting their way toward me when what I had to do finally registered in my mind. Falling into step with them, I hacked at the crowd and did my best to ignore the newly torn stitches on my thigh. Liz would have to get over herself pretty quickly to patch that up again. Keys in hand, Gareth stayed behind us and sidestepped along the car, his eyes stuck on the walkers. And then we were there and he opened the trunk, went straight for the can of gas and shouted at us to keep them at bay for a while – just a little while longer.
Take my place, man, would ya? Then we'll see how well you keep'em at bay.
Grunting, sweating, huffing and most of all swearing, I did my best to comply, to give him time to fill the tank – but hell, couldn't he go faster?
From the corner of my eye I could see him fumble with the can, almost drop it, catch it, try again. His hands were shaking and his eyes were constantly darting to us. I swallowed the need to shout- don't bother with us, ya idiot! Focus on the fuckin' gas so we can get the hell outta here! A sudden cry on my left tore me from my angry musings and I barely had time to spin on my heels before a walker – must've been a woman, this one, judging by the frilly pink dress she wore – crashed against the blunt of my blade and pushed me to the side, right into the arms of a dead cop. Sean shouted for me. I saw him try to get to me but waves after waves of corpses crashed into him.
"He won't make it", I thought. "I won't make it."
The woman pushed against my blade. No way I could take it back without having her at my throat. Behind me the cop's broken teeth were bared, ready to sink into my neck and I thought I was a goner when someone fired. The cop fell against my back. His grip on me slackened and I kicked him backward, freeing myself. The woman went next with a clear shot to the head. Three other walkers followed shortly after.
Neals, I thought, but when I looked at the car it was Coal who returned my gaze with a smirk, then aimed again. Other walkers were already taking the fallen one's place, I had to get back to the car and quick.
Again, my blade danced. And again, I found myself at Gareth's side, fighting like the devil. I lost track of time there. I can barely remember Gareth shouting something and Sean pulling me to the door, the last slashes I delivered to a snarling cadaver, Coal grabbing me and firing a last shot over my shoulder and then the sound of the engine roaring and the sudden pressure of Mary-Ann's body all over mine. She'd stopped doing that, grabbing me I mean, after the fifth month we spent outside. But here she was, hugging me and clutching at my clothes, my hair, my arms, as if I would disappear if she were to let go for even a second. I didn't respond. Not at first. I was still in survival mode, still a machine plugged on blood and murder. Neals was the one who soothed her and disentangled her from me so I could breath and get my bearings. Get down from my high. And I did – in time. My breathing slowed and my grip on my blade relaxed inch by inch. My body gradually sagged in the backseat. The rational part of my brain came back.
"Bitch, ya okay back there?"
"Dude don' talk t'her, 'tis not that often she shuts the hell up."
Jay barked in laugher at Coal's comment. Sean huffed a breathless laugh and Gareth shook his head but soon returned his eyes to the road – and the wheel. Scowling, I scrunched up my nose and sat straight, taking in the state of our crew. As I thought, Liz was passed out against the door. Mary-Ann was frightened, but unharmed, as were Neals and Gareth – even if the old man could certainly use a cup of gin. Sean and Jay both sported a nice collection of bruises, but no bites. As for Coal, he could go and die for all I cared. Sadly, I knew he was alright by the way his big mouth just wouldn't stop running.
"Ya know", I said, "one day I'm gonna shove your gun so far up your ass you're gonna cough bullets."
Jay cackled loudly, Sean sighed and Neals snorted.
"Oh yeah, she's more than alright."
You bet, man. You bet.