back.
Carrie Martinez’s mouth stopped moving. Her head sank forward, and for a moment she looked as though she were bowed in prayer. Her long black hair reached down to the carpet. It glistened with moisture in the flashlight’s beam.
Sweat, Carl thought. Just like her hand was sweaty. That must be another symptom. Part of the fever or something.
A man appeared in the window behind Carrie Martinez’s impaled body and placed his hand on her back, using it for support as he got his first leg up, trying to work his way through the window.
The rifle had landed several inches away. Calmly, Carl leaned over and snatched it up, took his time aiming, the man so close that his head was all that could be seen through the rifle’s scope.
Carl fired. The top of the man’s head disappeared and he fell back through the window, landing on the ground with a wet thud.
“I’m an army of one,” Carl said, laughing, as he pulled himself up off the floor.
More of the rabid things appeared in the window.
Lining up like ducks in a row, Carl thought, taking aim with the rifle.
He picked them off one by one until there were none left. Taylor watched, knowing he should put a stop to it, but he was caught up in the thrill of it just as much as his brother.
In the end, he had put down all five of them, not counting the two by the car or Carrie Martinez. He had experienced that rare surge of adrenaline, but it had worn off as quickly as it had come, leaving him breathing heavily and physically drained. He lowered the rifled, resting the stock on the floor, leaning on it like a makeshift cane.
Carl approached the window slowly and poked his head through, careful not to touch Carrie Martinez’s slumped over body.
“That’s a massacre,” he said. His stomach went queasy; something hot and nasty got as far as the back of his throat before he managed to hold it back. He gagged, dropped the rifle, and held a hand to his mouth. “I’ve gotta use the bathroom.” He fled from the room.
“Is he going to be all right?” Tina asked.
Taylor nodded. “I think so. It’s not every day you kill someone. Even if they aren’t human anymore. But he’ll be all right. Give him a couple of minutes to himself. I’ll check on him after that.”
He walked over to where the rifle lay on the floor and picked it up. He undid the bolt and ejected the spent casing. The flashlight was on the floor, the beam pointed at the shattered window, illuminating Carrie Martinez. In the weakening light, her hair was the color of canned spinach. He stared out the window. “We can’t stay here. It’s not safe. More of those things will have heard the gunshots and they’ll come running.”
On the street, Tina’s Escort was idling quietly. It wouldn’t last much longer if they didn’t feed it gas, but Taylor wondered if any of the pumps would work. Nothing else did, so it was hard to believe their luck would turn for the better.
Carl entered the room, wiping his mouth with his forearm. Taylor held the rifle out to him, but he shook his head. “Why don’t you hold onto it for now.”
“Nice shootin’.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks. I guess.” He felt like baby brother again. It made him feel ashamed yet comfortable. It was an easy niche to fall into. You could take a lot of excuses with you into a role like that. “On second thought…it’s not like you’d be very handy with this thing. You never did like to hunt.”
“Wasn’t for me.”
Carl turned to Tina. “He couldn’t bring himself to hurt an animal no matter how small.”
“I could never see the fun in it,” Tina said.
“So are we getting out of here or what?”
They made their way to the car, vigilant as they hurried down the narrow sidewalk. Carl glanced back at the house before getting into the car, sadness in his eyes.
“The town seems so empty,” Tina said.
Carl said,
Carrie Martinez’s mouth stopped moving. Her head sank forward, and for a moment she looked as though she were bowed in prayer. Her long black hair reached down to the carpet. It glistened with moisture in the flashlight’s beam.
Sweat, Carl thought. Just like her hand was sweaty. That must be another symptom. Part of the fever or something.
A man appeared in the window behind Carrie Martinez’s impaled body and placed his hand on her back, using it for support as he got his first leg up, trying to work his way through the window.
The rifle had landed several inches away. Calmly, Carl leaned over and snatched it up, took his time aiming, the man so close that his head was all that could be seen through the rifle’s scope.
Carl fired. The top of the man’s head disappeared and he fell back through the window, landing on the ground with a wet thud.
“I’m an army of one,” Carl said, laughing, as he pulled himself up off the floor.
More of the rabid things appeared in the window.
Lining up like ducks in a row, Carl thought, taking aim with the rifle.
He picked them off one by one until there were none left. Taylor watched, knowing he should put a stop to it, but he was caught up in the thrill of it just as much as his brother.
In the end, he had put down all five of them, not counting the two by the car or Carrie Martinez. He had experienced that rare surge of adrenaline, but it had worn off as quickly as it had come, leaving him breathing heavily and physically drained. He lowered the rifled, resting the stock on the floor, leaning on it like a makeshift cane.
Carl approached the window slowly and poked his head through, careful not to touch Carrie Martinez’s slumped over body.
“That’s a massacre,” he said. His stomach went queasy; something hot and nasty got as far as the back of his throat before he managed to hold it back. He gagged, dropped the rifle, and held a hand to his mouth. “I’ve gotta use the bathroom.” He fled from the room.
“Is he going to be all right?” Tina asked.
Taylor nodded. “I think so. It’s not every day you kill someone. Even if they aren’t human anymore. But he’ll be all right. Give him a couple of minutes to himself. I’ll check on him after that.”
He walked over to where the rifle lay on the floor and picked it up. He undid the bolt and ejected the spent casing. The flashlight was on the floor, the beam pointed at the shattered window, illuminating Carrie Martinez. In the weakening light, her hair was the color of canned spinach. He stared out the window. “We can’t stay here. It’s not safe. More of those things will have heard the gunshots and they’ll come running.”
On the street, Tina’s Escort was idling quietly. It wouldn’t last much longer if they didn’t feed it gas, but Taylor wondered if any of the pumps would work. Nothing else did, so it was hard to believe their luck would turn for the better.
Carl entered the room, wiping his mouth with his forearm. Taylor held the rifle out to him, but he shook his head. “Why don’t you hold onto it for now.”
“Nice shootin’.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks. I guess.” He felt like baby brother again. It made him feel ashamed yet comfortable. It was an easy niche to fall into. You could take a lot of excuses with you into a role like that. “On second thought…it’s not like you’d be very handy with this thing. You never did like to hunt.”
“Wasn’t for me.”
Carl turned to Tina. “He couldn’t bring himself to hurt an animal no matter how small.”
“I could never see the fun in it,” Tina said.
“So are we getting out of here or what?”
They made their way to the car, vigilant as they hurried down the narrow sidewalk. Carl glanced back at the house before getting into the car, sadness in his eyes.
“The town seems so empty,” Tina said.
Carl said,
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