then spun around and snapped off a shot at the undead teenage girl. She went down in a tangled heap, and rolled towards the gutter.
Glenda threw herself in through the open door of the Forester. She scrambled across the seat and smashed the passenger-side window with the butt of the rifle. The glass shattered into a thousand tiny diamonds and sprayed across the road. She thrust the barrel through the opening and fired two more shots. The ghouls were just a few feet away. The sound of their moans grew louder until it became an endless undulating wail. The fetid stench of their bodies hung in the air.
“Come on!” It was Jillian. She slammed the driver’s door shut and gunned the engine again. Slipped the transmission into drive and stomped her foot on the brake to hold the car.
But Cutter wasn’t listening.
Near where the zombie girl lay, was an apartment block. It was an old three-story building with an elegant old world façade and heavy glass entry doors. From one of the top floor windows, Cutter suddenly saw a movement and his eyes flicked to it, expecting fresh danger.
It was a white bath towel.
There was a fresh-faced teenage boy wearing a bulky padded jacket and a baseball cap. He was holding the towel out of the open window, the fabric rippling and undulating gently in the breeze. Written in large hasty lettering was the message ‘We are Alive!’ and then next to it was the sign of the cross.
Cutter stared.
Beside the teenage boy, another figure suddenly appeared, framed against the darkened window. It was a middle-aged man. He was balding. He had a red fleshy face, and he was wearing some kind of a dark coat. The man cried out to Cutter.
“In God’s name, please help us!”
Cutter paused. Time seemed to stand still. He turned back to the Forester. The open door was right beside him. The women were in the car. Glenda was firing again as the wave of ghouls pressed closer like a suffocating wall of death. Escape was right there – waiting for him. He had done it. He had led the women out onto the horror-filled road and they had made it to a vehicle. He had survived.
He glanced beyond the roof of the Forester. Time was up. The ghouls were at the passenger-side doors. He could see Glenda firing, and the undead were so close that the shaft of gun flame joined the muzzle of the AR-15 and a zombie’s head, hurling it backwards like a bundle of rags to the ground.
Cutter decided.
He slammed the door shut and punched on the roof of the Forester. Jillian’s face twisted towards him, pressed against the glass, her mouth open in terror.
“Go!” Cutter shouted. “Head for the suburbs!”
Jillian’s eyes became enormous. She was shouting at him, but Cutter wasn’t listening. Then he felt something crash against his waist and he reeled in sudden fright. It was Glenda. She was shoving at the rear door with her feet, trying to kick it back open. She was shouting to him in fear and desperation. Cutter turned and bent at the waist. He shook his head. Glenda stared at him aghast. She was crying. He could see the anguish and tormented terror in her eyes.
Cutter nodded slowly. “It’s okay,” he said, mouthing the words because he knew she couldn’t hear him above the wail of the ghouls. “It’s okay. This is what I want.”
Then he smiled.
Glenda slumped back against the seat, cold with shock – numb and staring vacantly. Then Jillian took her foot off the brake and the Forester roared away from the clamoring clawing hands of the zombies, lurching dangerously at the intersection and then turning right towards open road in a blue cloud of smoke and burning rubber.
Cutter turned away from the ghouls.
And ran.
* * *
The heavy glass entry doors to the apartment block were twenty feet away. Cutter leaped over the body of the dead zombie girl and slammed his fists against them. They didn’t budge. The glass was darkly tinted and he pressed his face against it. The doors had been
Glenda threw herself in through the open door of the Forester. She scrambled across the seat and smashed the passenger-side window with the butt of the rifle. The glass shattered into a thousand tiny diamonds and sprayed across the road. She thrust the barrel through the opening and fired two more shots. The ghouls were just a few feet away. The sound of their moans grew louder until it became an endless undulating wail. The fetid stench of their bodies hung in the air.
“Come on!” It was Jillian. She slammed the driver’s door shut and gunned the engine again. Slipped the transmission into drive and stomped her foot on the brake to hold the car.
But Cutter wasn’t listening.
Near where the zombie girl lay, was an apartment block. It was an old three-story building with an elegant old world façade and heavy glass entry doors. From one of the top floor windows, Cutter suddenly saw a movement and his eyes flicked to it, expecting fresh danger.
It was a white bath towel.
There was a fresh-faced teenage boy wearing a bulky padded jacket and a baseball cap. He was holding the towel out of the open window, the fabric rippling and undulating gently in the breeze. Written in large hasty lettering was the message ‘We are Alive!’ and then next to it was the sign of the cross.
Cutter stared.
Beside the teenage boy, another figure suddenly appeared, framed against the darkened window. It was a middle-aged man. He was balding. He had a red fleshy face, and he was wearing some kind of a dark coat. The man cried out to Cutter.
“In God’s name, please help us!”
Cutter paused. Time seemed to stand still. He turned back to the Forester. The open door was right beside him. The women were in the car. Glenda was firing again as the wave of ghouls pressed closer like a suffocating wall of death. Escape was right there – waiting for him. He had done it. He had led the women out onto the horror-filled road and they had made it to a vehicle. He had survived.
He glanced beyond the roof of the Forester. Time was up. The ghouls were at the passenger-side doors. He could see Glenda firing, and the undead were so close that the shaft of gun flame joined the muzzle of the AR-15 and a zombie’s head, hurling it backwards like a bundle of rags to the ground.
Cutter decided.
He slammed the door shut and punched on the roof of the Forester. Jillian’s face twisted towards him, pressed against the glass, her mouth open in terror.
“Go!” Cutter shouted. “Head for the suburbs!”
Jillian’s eyes became enormous. She was shouting at him, but Cutter wasn’t listening. Then he felt something crash against his waist and he reeled in sudden fright. It was Glenda. She was shoving at the rear door with her feet, trying to kick it back open. She was shouting to him in fear and desperation. Cutter turned and bent at the waist. He shook his head. Glenda stared at him aghast. She was crying. He could see the anguish and tormented terror in her eyes.
Cutter nodded slowly. “It’s okay,” he said, mouthing the words because he knew she couldn’t hear him above the wail of the ghouls. “It’s okay. This is what I want.”
Then he smiled.
Glenda slumped back against the seat, cold with shock – numb and staring vacantly. Then Jillian took her foot off the brake and the Forester roared away from the clamoring clawing hands of the zombies, lurching dangerously at the intersection and then turning right towards open road in a blue cloud of smoke and burning rubber.
Cutter turned away from the ghouls.
And ran.
* * *
The heavy glass entry doors to the apartment block were twenty feet away. Cutter leaped over the body of the dead zombie girl and slammed his fists against them. They didn’t budge. The glass was darkly tinted and he pressed his face against it. The doors had been
Similar Books
Behind the Yellow Tape: On the Road With Some of America's Hardest Working Crime Scene Investigators
Jarrett Hallcox, Amy Welch
