Escaping the Horde

The last two days have been a nightmare. I feel as if I have been looking down on myself from above as we struggle through the streets, each step a miracle of survival. Until this moment, I haven't had a single moment in the last 48 hours to stop and reflect. We have lived in a state of perpetual action, punctuated here and there by a few moments of sleep so deep we might as well have been dead.

In the first days since we left the apartment, the neighborhoods have been empty. We were accompanied by constant fear and anxiety. We never knew when a zombie might surprise us and attack. It seemed so stressful and difficult, and I longed for it to end. In contrast to the last two days, those first days now seem like paradise.

Carl woke us up very early two days ago, before the sun was up. Something was going on outside the office. There must have been a dozen zombies or more milling around outside the door. We could not see under the door, so we had to guess. There was plenty of moaning and shuffling of feet. Chairs and desks and equipment were being pushed around. From our experience with the zombies before, we knew the creatures were milling around aimlessly, sometimes bumping into walls or desks or each other.

The three of us discussed our options--the first time I had heard Ellen speak in several days--and decided to wait and see what might happen. Maybe they would leave on their own. We waited until nearly noon, but there was no indication they were going anywhere. Finally, Carl said, "Let's just get the hell out of here. I think we can outrun 'em." Ellen nodded, but I think she just wanted a chance to bash some zombie skulls.

"Find a weapon," Carl said. We looked around but didn't find anything better than what we already had--a shotgun, a shovel and a table leg.

"As soon as we open the door, rush to the front of the store" he said. "If we can force our way to the street, we can get clear and run."

Carl and Ellen both looked ready to get moving, but I was nearly paralyzed with fear. I was willing to wait here for days, if necessary, until the zombies went away on their own. But I also knew that we needed to refresh our supplies of food and water. We were getting very low on water.

"Ready?" Carl asked.

Ellen nodded. I said, "No, but we've gotta go anyway." I gripped the shovel tightly.

"Mike, you go out first and be ready to swing that thing. Maybe you can push the zombies away from the doorway."

"Why not just use the shotgun?" I asked.

"We need to save our ammo."

He was right, of course. I stepped to the doorway.

"I'll open it, and then you start swinging."

I squeaked out, "Okay." I was about to vomit.

"Now!"

The door opened, and I was hit by a rush of foul air. It was the stink of death. A zombie stood in the hall with its back to me. For a moment, I was frozen. Then, it turned its head to look at us. Even though the zombie eyes look dead, I could see a flicker of...what...a predatory spark? That got me going. I swung down hard on the side of its head.

The creature staggered backward, and I stepped forward and took another swing. It went down. Ellen slid past me and started bashing its head in with the table leg.

I moved out of the room and turned toward the front door, facing 78th St. When I saw the office crowded with nearly motionless zombies I almost turned back. Carl, though, had moved right behind me and he gave me a shove. "Keep moving. Fast!"

I churned my legs as fast as I could, but the muscles were tired and weak. It was like being in a bad dream where my body simply wouldn't move. I kept moving, though, and eventually built up a little steam.

I came close to a zombie, still standing like a statue, and swung the shovel like a baseball bat. The zombie dropped to its knees and toppled over. I didn't stick around to watch.

I was only a few feet from the front door when a deafening BOOM sent me sprawling toward the floor out of instinct. I scrambled back up against the wall.

Chris was reaching down to help me up. "Get up. Keep moving," he growled.

I saw the splattered remains of a zombie on the floor beside me, its middle blown through by a blast from the shotgun. The creature had been right on me. If Chris hadn't fired, its long fingernails would have been in my neck.

The blast seemed to alert all the zombies in the place. I heard a ruckus behind me, turned my head, and saw Ellen wailing away with her table leg at the zombies reaching out for us. I started running again.

We got outside and ran right into the middle of the street. I heard Chris say, "Oh shit." I thought something must have happened to Ellen. I turned to see, but instead of Ellen, I saw a wave of zombies rushing up behind us. There must have been 50 or more. They were definitely not slow, and I wasn't sure we could outrun them.

"Up to Dalton and turn left!" Chris shouted.

I ran as fast as I could. As we reached the corner, more blasts from the shotgun caused me to jump. Chris had picked off two undead that darted out from an alleyway. These things aren't the same slow, stiff creatures from Night of the Living Dead. They are quick. And relentless.

No matter how far and how fast we ran, they kept coming. I didn't know how much longer I could keep it up, and we had only gone a few blocks. Chris must have been thinking the same thing, because I heard him say, "We've got to find a place to hole up."

A few yards further, and I heard Ellen's voice, cold and hard, "Fire escape." We turned to look, and already she was running toward the red ladder in an alcove. The zombies, of course, followed.

"You first, Ellen," Chris ordered.

She started scrambling up the ladder, and we turned to face the horde. The lead zombie was a man in a police uniform. His grayish face was caked with dried blood. The creature was only about six or eight feet away when Chris let him have it. The head exploded in a shower of blood and bone, and the momentum carried the body forward. It slid harmlessly between us.

"Grab the gun." I admire how cool Chris has been in the midst of the worst. I reached for the shotgun.

"No, the officer's gun. Grab it."

Oh, of course. I didn't want to take my eye off the rest of the charging zombies, but I reached down, unsnapped the policeman's weapon.

"The ammo, too."

I grunted and collected extra clips from the officer's belt. When I looked up, the horde was upon us. Only a blast from the shotgun saved me.

I took a swing and my shovel drove a zombie in a bus driver's uniform backwards. Chris slammed the butt of the gun against the forehead of another. He loaded a few shells. The creatures were swarming all around us now. I felt something rip into the side of my shoulder, turned, and pushed out with both arms. The force held the zombie at bay--for the moment. We were fighting a losing battle.

"I'm up. Somebody else get up here." It was Ellen from the landing on the second story.

"Throw the gun up to Ellen," said Chris.

I had dropped it at my feet in the rush and stooped to pick it up again. A zombie pounded on my back until Chris put a hole in him. I tossed the gun up toward Ellen. She reached out, and for a second, it looked like she would miss it. A poor toss. But her fingers wrapped around the trigger guard, and she pulled it in.

Chris didn't have to give Ellen any instructions. She immediately began shooting, and zombie skulls began exploding all around us. In moments, she had emptied the clip. There was a bit of breathing room, and so I tossed up a clip. I warded off a couple of zombies, and tossed two more.

"When she starts firing again," Chris said, "get up there."

I nodded my head. When the shooting began, I swung my shovel as hard as I could, tucked it in my armpit, and started climbing. A zombie grabbed my foot and pulled, but Chris shot its arm off at the shoulder. I kept climbing.

About halfway up, I looked down. Chris was covered, shoving and hitting violently to keep himself clear of the long nails on the creatures' fingers. Ellen was firing more slowly now, aiming carefully. With each shot, another zombie head disintegrated.

"Your turn, Chris," I said as I reached the landing. I pulled myself up and watched helplessly as Chris, already halfway up, kicked at the zombies trying their best to overwhelm him. He yelled in pain as a zombie latched itself around his ankle. The damn thing had cut deep into him. Ellen fired, and the zombie dropped to the ground.

Once Chris was up, it was easy for us to shove the zombies back down as they clambered up the ladder. Ellen and Chris stopped shooting, and simply hit and shoved. Eventually, the undead stopped coming, and the whole city seemed to become quiet. It felt--and looked--like a graveyard.

We sat together on the second floor landing of the fire escape in silence for a long time. I counted at least 65 dead zombies at the foot of the ladder. They were heaped in a pile, limbs hanging off the torsos at odd angles, many with only stumps where their heads had been. The red-black zombie blood was everywhere, even on us. My face was sticky with the stuff.

After a while, I felt pain. My left shoulder had two jagged gashes, nearly an inch deep. Ellen saw this and began to wrap a bandage tightly around my arm and shoulder. Chris poked at the deep cuts on his ankle. There was little bleeding, but a large flap of skin dangled there. And then there was the exhaustion, not just physical, but mental, too. While Ellen wrapped me up, I almost fell asleep and dropped to my death.

Not one of us dared to say a word. Finally, Chris just said, "Let's go." He slid down the ladder and waited for us to join him. I wasn't ready to go anywhere, but when Ellen climbed down, too, I had no choice.

We walked along Dalton for many blocks, and the zombies were everywhere. Fortunately, most of them were alone or in small groups. We hit them with our weapons as much as possible to save ammo. One of the zombies was another policeman, so I collected his gun and ammunition.

We did face a couple of small hordes, and every battle slowed us down even more. By the time it was getting dark, we had only gotten to 93rd. There were nearly thirty blocks to go to the promised "safe house." That meant at least another day's travel, and because the creatures were so thick, we hadn't had much time to scrounge for food and water. We were really hurting.

Nevertheless, we thought it suicide to travel at night. That's when the really strange zombies seemed to come out of hiding, and we didn't want to meet any of them. So when Chris suggested we stop, I readily agreed. Ellen, as always, merely nodded her head.

Fortunately, we found a secure room quickly. The place was a meat locker at South Side Deli. Apparently the cooling system was turned off, so the locker wasn't cold, and it had a solid metal door, which was even better. We had light in there, which was always a comfort. We'll left it on all night.

The only bad news was that there was almost no food in the deli. Our stomachs were growling. Our muscles were cramping and sore. But at least our hearts were still beating. That's what counts.

I can't write anymore tonight. I thought I was tired yesterday, but today has really taught me the meaning of the word exhaustion. I'll leave today's adventures for the next entry.