keeping the same tempo as the dinging of the Mercedes that was now long gone. Ring! Christmas! Bells! Stab! Stab! Stab!
Ricky watched in paralyzed fear, legs pulled up to his chest, chastising them both in a hysterical voice that was barely above a whisper.
“Do you know what you've done?” he asked, his whole body shaking as tears leaked down his dirt streaked face. “That man is part of their gang. They'll kill us all now!”
“What gang? What are you talking about?”
“One Blood,” the man cried. “One blood, one blood, one fucking blood. Shit man. We're screwed. You don't even get it. They don't show mercy, man. They don't make exceptions. You either join them or die.”
“They sound like ISIS,” Adam mocked. “Did they cause this? Do you know?”
The girl seemed to come out of her trance. She stopped stabbing Marcus and turned her attention to the man in the corner, her face emotionless now, a paralyzing determination in her unblinking eyes that reminded Adam of a creepy doll in a horror film.
“They're worse,” Ricky obliviously blubbered. “And if you kill or maim one of them they hunt you down and torture you to death. It's their only fucking hobby, man. First they cripple you, then they make you fight zombies hand-to-hand until you lose. That's what they do when they find out what happened here! Jesus fucking Christ!”
“That's not gonna happen,” Adam assured him, calmly leaning over and putting his hand on the terrified man's trembling shoulder. “Because no one is ever going to tell them, especially not you, pal.”
“I won't tell them,” Ricky whispered, closing his eyes, snot running from his nose. “I won't tell anyone. I won't tell. I won't tell.”
“I know you won't,” Adam calmly replied as he brought his blade up and cut the man's throat. Ricky's face went pale white. His hands reached up, trying desperately to keep the blood in as it trickled in bright red spurts through his fingers, like a babbling, scarlet brook trickling over a bed of chalk white rocks. He coughed and a fine mist of blood escaped him with a wheeze, lingering for one terrible moment in the air in front of him like a genie before coating his clothes in a delicate spray of fine drops of fresh blood. Adam turned to the girl. She pointed her knife at him, her eyes wide with fresh fear.
“Did they hurt you?” Adam asked, ignoring her threatening gesture. “I mean, you know... down there?”
“No,” she answered, shaking her head back and forth for emphasis. “Just my face and neck.” Her right eye was swelling over now, turning a dark shade of purple.
“That's good,” he said feeling only slightly relieved. “What's your name?”
“Sarah,” she mouthed, still looking distrustful of him.
“That's good, Sarah. I'm Adam. We've got to go now. Take my hand.”
He reached out to her, but she stared defiantly back at him. There was a loud clanging sound as the first few zombies reached the metal door of the fast food bathroom and began beating their fists against it in anger. Soon there would be too many to fend off and they'd be trapped. He knew they had only seconds to make it out in one piece.
“We're running out of time, Sarah, if we want to survive this,” Adam insisted over the sound of the man in the corner choking to death on his own blood, and the hungry growls of the flesh eating former humans waiting for them in the parking lot. She relented, placing her tiny hand in his at last.
“Just know if you try to hurt me I'll kill you,” she warned, gripping her switchblade tighter in her other hand. Adam felt a burst of pride as he fought back a laugh.
“Good for you, kid,” he managed. “Always go down swinging. Now listen up. When I kick the door we're going to break left, away from the street and over to the hospital. You got that?”
She nodded in reply.
“Just keep moving and we should be okay,” he assured her. “Don't get bit, and no matter what happens, don't let go of my
Ricky watched in paralyzed fear, legs pulled up to his chest, chastising them both in a hysterical voice that was barely above a whisper.
“Do you know what you've done?” he asked, his whole body shaking as tears leaked down his dirt streaked face. “That man is part of their gang. They'll kill us all now!”
“What gang? What are you talking about?”
“One Blood,” the man cried. “One blood, one blood, one fucking blood. Shit man. We're screwed. You don't even get it. They don't show mercy, man. They don't make exceptions. You either join them or die.”
“They sound like ISIS,” Adam mocked. “Did they cause this? Do you know?”
The girl seemed to come out of her trance. She stopped stabbing Marcus and turned her attention to the man in the corner, her face emotionless now, a paralyzing determination in her unblinking eyes that reminded Adam of a creepy doll in a horror film.
“They're worse,” Ricky obliviously blubbered. “And if you kill or maim one of them they hunt you down and torture you to death. It's their only fucking hobby, man. First they cripple you, then they make you fight zombies hand-to-hand until you lose. That's what they do when they find out what happened here! Jesus fucking Christ!”
“That's not gonna happen,” Adam assured him, calmly leaning over and putting his hand on the terrified man's trembling shoulder. “Because no one is ever going to tell them, especially not you, pal.”
“I won't tell them,” Ricky whispered, closing his eyes, snot running from his nose. “I won't tell anyone. I won't tell. I won't tell.”
“I know you won't,” Adam calmly replied as he brought his blade up and cut the man's throat. Ricky's face went pale white. His hands reached up, trying desperately to keep the blood in as it trickled in bright red spurts through his fingers, like a babbling, scarlet brook trickling over a bed of chalk white rocks. He coughed and a fine mist of blood escaped him with a wheeze, lingering for one terrible moment in the air in front of him like a genie before coating his clothes in a delicate spray of fine drops of fresh blood. Adam turned to the girl. She pointed her knife at him, her eyes wide with fresh fear.
“Did they hurt you?” Adam asked, ignoring her threatening gesture. “I mean, you know... down there?”
“No,” she answered, shaking her head back and forth for emphasis. “Just my face and neck.” Her right eye was swelling over now, turning a dark shade of purple.
“That's good,” he said feeling only slightly relieved. “What's your name?”
“Sarah,” she mouthed, still looking distrustful of him.
“That's good, Sarah. I'm Adam. We've got to go now. Take my hand.”
He reached out to her, but she stared defiantly back at him. There was a loud clanging sound as the first few zombies reached the metal door of the fast food bathroom and began beating their fists against it in anger. Soon there would be too many to fend off and they'd be trapped. He knew they had only seconds to make it out in one piece.
“We're running out of time, Sarah, if we want to survive this,” Adam insisted over the sound of the man in the corner choking to death on his own blood, and the hungry growls of the flesh eating former humans waiting for them in the parking lot. She relented, placing her tiny hand in his at last.
“Just know if you try to hurt me I'll kill you,” she warned, gripping her switchblade tighter in her other hand. Adam felt a burst of pride as he fought back a laugh.
“Good for you, kid,” he managed. “Always go down swinging. Now listen up. When I kick the door we're going to break left, away from the street and over to the hospital. You got that?”
She nodded in reply.
“Just keep moving and we should be okay,” he assured her. “Don't get bit, and no matter what happens, don't let go of my
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