Marcus skidded down the steep embankments, ignoring the trails that would lead him more safely down to the river's edge. He could hear Ed complaining behind him. Marcus hit the first trail and dashed across it, moving to the next embankment, looking down at the river. The survivor was almost across the river now, and there were more zombies following them. He had to hurry. He began descending the next steep hill, grabbing on the occasional tree that for support. At the end of this one, the last one, he tripped and canted sharply forward.
He grunted, then groaned as he hit the final path, the rocks and dirt tearing at his palms. He picked himself up off the ground as Ed joined him.
"Yeah, I'm the out-of-shape one," he said, helping Marcus up.
"Oh, shut it," Marcus groaned.
The pair ran the rest of the way down the path. The survivor, he saw it was a thin woman with dark hair pulled back into a short ponytail, was holding a pistol. Now she had finished crossing the river, which he realized was really more of a creek and less of an actual river, and turned to face her undead pursuers.
"Make sure none of them get too close, Ed!" Marcus called, pulling his pistol out.
The woman turned back to look at them briefly, then returned her attention to the zombies. Marcus looked down at the gun in his hand. After college, he'd finally decided he should buy a pistol for home protection. He went out and did the whole song and dance, getting his license, waiting for it to arrive, then going out and buying a gun. He'd picked up a nine millimeter gun that seemed steady enough and some ammo for it. He'd then taken it down to the local gun range about twice a week for a month, banging through a few hundred rounds.
When the thrill of actually firing a gun had worn off, he'd put it in a shoebox beneath his bed and there it stayed to this day. But during that month, he'd discovered that he was actually a pretty good shot, and had only gotten better with the practice. Now he was going to have to rely on his steady hands to save his life.
A gunshot went off. "You gonna use that thing!?" the woman snapped.
Marcus raised the gun. He didn't want to use up his only six bullets and possibly draw the attention of others, but it looked like he was committed to the situation. He counted off a baker's dozen splashing across the river towards them. Taking aim, he saw the woman had a black and silver pistol. She held it with both hands and fired again, putting a shot directly into the forehead of the lead zombie, which dropped to the ground, tripping up a few of the others.
Marcus took aim, zeroing his sights on another outdoorsman in a hunting vest and work boots. He squeezed the trigger. A split second later the creature's right eye exploded in a plume of dark red gore. He let out a small laugh, then made himself focus. The zombies were getting closer. He ended up using every last one of his bullets putting down the creatures, as a few other stragglers ended up joining the undead crusade to cross the river.
When it was done, the last body falling in a splash that sounded suddenly loud, the woman abruptly turned and pointed the pistol at Marcus, taking a step back so that she had both him and Ed in front of her.
"Who are you? What do you want?" she asked.
"Just...just to help," Marcus managed, his heart hammering in his chest harder than ever at this new and abrupt development.
The woman seemed to consider this for a moment, then lowered her pistol. "Okay, fine. My name's Maya." She took a deep breath and let it out.
Marcus studied her. She was young, had to be around his age, but she seemed older somehow, more composed, mature. She had Hispanic features and was dressed in an army camouflage jacket with tight, black yoga pants and tightly laced combat boots. She extracted the magazine from her pistol, fished out a handful of bullets from one of the pockets in her vest and began feeding them one by one into the magazine.
"Marcus Campbell," Marcus said.
"Ed," Ed said simply. "Uh...are you okay?" he asked.
"Other than the fact that my two best friends are dead and a bunch of insane people are trying to eat me? Fine, I'm just fine," Maya replied, slamming the magazine back into the pistol. She turned and began walking away, towards the paths that led back up to the campgrounds.
Marcus and Ed began to follow her. "What are you doing out here?" he asked.
"I was out here hunting with a few guys from my unit. Colton and Strand. We've been out here for almost two weeks now, camping in the deep woods. We got jumped on the way back. These psychofucks tore my friends apart. I've been running and gunning ever since."
"Your unit? You in the Marines?" Ed asked.
Maya stopped for a minute, part of the way up the first trail. She turned to face them, rolling her eyes. "Army," she said. After a moment, she holstered hers pistol. "My turn. What the fuck is going on here? What's the sit-rep?" she asked.
"It's not good. We pretty much just stumbled out of the woods an hour ago, too. We found five survivors up in the ranger station, but two of them are badly wounded. They didn't really tell us anything, they asked us to check out the park, see if there was anyone else alive. We'd just got through the campsites when we heard you," Marcus explained.
Maya stared at them for a moment. "And no one knows how far this thing has spread? How it got started?" she asked.
"I know for sure it's at least in Spencer's Mill, because that's where some of the survivors came from. They were coming up here to look for others. I'd guess that it's spread across the whole valley and we're on our own," Marcus replied.
"What makes you think that?" Maya asked.
"Because the guy up here looking for survivors isn't official. There aren't even cops handling this thing," Marcus replied.
Maya frowned, then nodded. "Okay, so we finish searching the area. That can't take too long if we're quick about it. Come on."
She turned and continued walking up the path. Marcus and Ed followed. Marcus found himself immensely relieved to have her there. Maya seemed extremely capable and an incredible shot on top of that. Even if, like them, she was making it up as she went along, having someone like her along would vastly increase their chances for survival. At least, he hoped so. As they wound their way back up the trail, Marcus began studying Maya. Particularly her backside. She was wearing some very tight pants that showed off every curve.
He blinked and made himself focus, but it seemed difficult. Which didn't make any sense. He was in literally a life or death situation, why the hell would his brain suddenly suffer a lapse in logic and divert critical thinking towards focusing on some woman's ass? Even if it was a particularly nice, tight, well-formed ass. He wanted some cold water to splash on his face. Maybe it was just the situation. He remembered thinking that his brain was now like a boat adrift at sea, which was probably an apt description.
It meant that his thoughts were open to any sudden wave that came up and pushed them in another direction. It had been a while since Marcus had been with a girl. His last relationship had ended painfully six months ago and he hadn't really felt like dating since then. But now that zombies were up for grabs, he supposed his mind was free to wander anywhere. As they came back up to the campgrounds, Marcus honed his focus.
Another zombie had wandered over during their time down by the river.
Maya raised her pistol.
"Wait!" Marcus whispered harshly.
"What?" she asked, not lowering the pistol.
"Noise draws them. Gunshots are pretty damned loud. I heard you all the way from over by the ranger station."
Maya sighed and lowered her pistol. "Then what do you suggest?"
Marcus raised his crowbar, Ed his pipe. She stared at them for a moment, then smirked. She stepped back and motioned towards the approaching zombie.
"Be my guest."
"Uh, you sure you don't wanna?" Marcus replied, offering the crowbar to her.
"Nope."
Marcus sighed and moved towards the zombie. He hefted the weapon, gripped it with two hands like a baseball bat. Maybe a bat would be better. No, it'd probably break pretty quick. Marcus stopped moving, not wanting to be in motion for his swing. The zombie came to him. When it was within arm's reach, he swung.
Maybe it was the adrenaline or even the fear, but Marcus swung much harder than he had to. The crowbar connected with the zombie's skull and sent it spinning. Bits of bone and a lot of blood flew out in a visceral spray, staining the ground. The zombie crashed to the dirt, issuing no more movements, no sound.
"Damn," Maya said, walking over and staring at the head. "Look at that dent."
Marcus didn't want to. He was surprised at how well he was reacting to the whole killing people thing. Only they weren't people. He kept telling himself that. They weren't people, they were monsters. Mindless, hungry monsters.
But he knew he was likely headed for some kind of crash. He was in emotional shock right now. His brain wasn't allowing him to process the horror of what he was doing, because it knew that if it did, he would simply sit down and cry.
And that would get him killed.
"Come on, let's get that bathroom checked out," Maya said, making for the brick building.
Marcus lingered briefly, staring the body he'd produced.
Ed walked over, put a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"
"Yeah...I...yeah, come on," Marcus managed.
He turned and began walking. Ed kept pace with him. They watched Maya walking ahead of them. Marcus gripped the crowbar more firmly, telling himself he had to get through this, he had to carry on. There was no other choice.
They reached the bathroom and began the hunt. They split up. Maya took the girl's room and Marcus and Ed the boy's. Marcus found that funny, in some small way. He pushed the door open, melee weapon ready for action. The bathroom was dark and smelled awful. After waiting a full five seconds and hearing nothing, the pair went inside.
Ed propped the door open because all the lights had died. Marcus looked around the men's room in the thin gray light. The tiled floor was filthy with dirt and grime. The walls were gritty and worn down from time. The mirrors were cracked and stained. Everything in this place spoke of decay and abandonment.
"Come on," Marcus murmured. "Let's check the stalls."
They moved deeper into the room. There were a pair of stalls built into the wall along one side, another trio occupying the other. They split up. Marcus pushed open the first door, saw nothing. He repeated the process, again found nothing.
"Oh, god," Ed moaned suddenly.
Marcus turned. Ed was standing in front of the middle stall across the room, the door open. His body blocked the view. Marcus approached, but stopped briefly. The awful smell that was lingering on the air was worse than ever.
"Ed, is it..."
"Yeah. Dead guy," Ed muttered. He stepped aside.
Marcus caught sight of a man seated on the toilet, his wrists slit, a straight-razor clutched in his pale right hand.
"Jesus," Marcus whispered. He reached up and closed the door, unsure of why he did. Maybe out of respect for the dead.
They checked the last stall and found it vacant. The pair left the bathroom, coming back out into the sunlight and the semi-fresh air. Marcus opened his mouth to say something, but stopped as they heard a muffled gunshot.
Then another. Then two more.
"Maya," Marcus said.
They began running.