Chapter 3 - Shed
It was dark by the time I reached the riverbed again. I burst through the trees and doubled over to catch my breath. The air was still, and if not for the persistent moonlight, pitch black. Collecting myself, I hurried to the bank, leaping across some submerged boulders to the middle of the river.
Something moaned. I ducked into some reeds, squinting against the shadows. The man from before, the one who stole Clem's backpack, had stirred from his final resting place. The walker got to its feet, cocking its head, looking for me. I steadied my breathing, feeling around the dirt until my fingers closed around a rock. My bad arm was coming free of the sling and throbbed around the stitches. I hissed quietly, cursing. Fuck it. I reached up, pulling the sling free of my shoulder and letting it fall to the ground. I flexed my arm. It hurt like a bitch, but I needed it. I dug the rock free from the loamy earth and held it to my chest. It was smooth, probably about the size of a football. It would do. I wasn't leaving those cigarettes, though. I shoved the carton into my jacket.
Slowly I rose, creeping up behind the walker. It caught my scent and turned, spitting in my direction. I ducked, raising my leg and kicking it in the back of the knee. As it crumpled, I leapt upon its back and smashed the rock into its skull. Again. Again. And one last one for good measure. Blood spattered my face, seeped through its skull and onto my hands.
I scrambled off the body as if burned, the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I rolled the walker over and lifted its shirt, feeling around the pockets of its jeans and waistband, withdrawing a large buck knife. I stood, taking a few steps back. The trees shifted in a sudden breeze and I could smell death everywhere. But something else, too. Something living.
I knelt in the dirt, tracing the mottled footprints from our earlier escapade.
I could almost hear Clem's voice as I followed her ghost across the water. I remembered the splash from when she tripped there, trying to follow Nick. I hopped to the opposite bank and saw the path back to the cabin, clear and inviting. And then I saw her tracks again, leading back into their side of the woods.
I latched the sheath of the knife to my waistband and headed for the woods.
When I found the shed, it was overrun with walkers. I took a knee in the grass a few yards away, watching them. What a horrible hiding place. The structure was built into the side of a knoll, so even the roof and windows were accessible from ground level. At least it was made of stone and not wood. If Clem was in there, she was safe. I decided the best thing to do was wait, so I scrambled painfully into a tree and watched.
I didn't mean to drift off. These days sleep found you whenever it could and it was almost always impossible to say no. I think most people welcomed it, because it brought with it the promise that maybe you'd die while dreaming whatever it is you dreamed about, and there was no death more pleasant than that anymore.
But still, I awoke. I awoke to the sound of glass breaking, every few seconds, like clockwork. It couldn't be Clem. She wasn't stupid. I rolled over on the branch holding me, peering down at the shed. The walkers were fewer now, bored with pounding the door and now ambling in circles around the knoll. I crept down from the tree, landing softly in the grass and withdrawing my knife. Giving the walkers a wide berth, I snuck to the shed's far side, and knelt again in the brush. I could see into the window. It was pitch dark.
Crickets sung obliviously, almost masking the sound of a raspy cough. Clem. Shit. I felt around the ground, found a pebble. I reached back, took aim, and threw it at the window. It bounced weakly against the glass. But it did the trick. I watched as Clem scrambled up, peering out into the darkness. I waved from the bushes. She raised an open hand. Wait.
She disappeared, and after a few seconds, the wooden doors creaked. I crept back around to the front. Clem stared at me from the crack in the doors and gestured to the walkers. I hurried forward softly, ducking behind a boulder, out of their view. She nodded and hunched over, tiptoeing toward me. "Nick's in there," she whispered.
Just then, a walker stepped out from behind the shed's other side and spotted her, raising its arms. Clem gasped and broke into a run. "Follow me!" she rasped. "I know where the cabin is!"
I didn't need more persuading than that. We ran.