that are chasing us. Ryan pulls out his huge hunting knife and approaches the creature. Moving so that fast he’s almost a blur, he spikes the zombie in the head before wiping the black goo off his blade with the things own shirt. He tucks it back into the sheath at his waist, and I wince at the goop.
“He had to have come from somewhere, hopefully there’s a farm around here.”
I try to feel motivated and relieved by his words, but I can’t help but wonder what will happen to us when we finally do bunk down and that horde behind us catches up. I hate this running across the countryside stuff, but I know I will hate being trapped inside four walls by two hundred monsters even more.
We take another short walking break before Ryan ruthlessly prods us back into a jog. I am beginning to envy the unfeeling state of the zombies, and I don’t initially notice the noise as the wind whistles past my ears. It starts off as a weird noise that I can’t place, but then it begins to get louder and louder. I finally realize what I’m hearing. It’s the whirring sound of helicopter blades. All four of our heads turn to the sky. We stop running and wave our arms as an olive-drab combat helicopter comes flying into view.
The sound sends a thrill through my body, but also terror at the amount of noise and attention it’s attracting. Ryan doesn’t hesitate. He starts waving his arms around and jumping up and down like a crazy person. The girls and I join in. I try to jump as enthusiastically as Ryan, but it isn’t easy on legs that are on the verge of collapse. The helicopter starts to circle, and I get my hopes up that maybe someone is going to rescue us. Suddenly, the helicopter flies off and heads back towards the herd behind us.
I fall to the ground and cover my ears when the deafening roar of a machine gun starts blasting off. The others follow me down, and we huddle in a terrified pile for a minute. When no bullets pierce through our bodies, we slowly sit up and turn back to see the helicopter hovering in front of the zombies with a huge machine gun rattling off round after round. The zombies fall to the ground in a huge messy pile of slick, black blood. Some of them aren’t dead for real yet, despite the numerous bullets punched through their flesh. Their torso’s wiggle around, slipping in the gooey mess made by their fallen comrades.
When nothing is left standing, the helicopter turns back to us. I feel a huge rush of wind and dirt sting my eyes and face. I stand still and close my eyes, bracing myself for the bullets, but they don’t come. The wind is increasing so drastically that I am almost blown over, and I realize that the helicopter is landing. It touches down lightly on the grass—no more than fifteen feet away. The doors are thrown open, and six army men in combat fatigues, carrying large automatic guns, come barreling out.
They form a complicated-looking formation that covers every angle with the business end of their rifles. It’s smart, but I don’t like the number of guns pointed at us.
“Have any of you been bitten?” One of the army men comes and stands so close to us that his spittle hits me in the face. He’s practically screaming to be heard over the whirring of the chopper blades. We emphatically shake our heads no, and he seems satisfied.
“Come with us,” he motions to the helicopter, and I don’t even hesitate. Once I move forward, Ryan and the others follow. Large, gloved hands reach down and help us up while the rest of the men remain outside to cover our backs. The rest of the men pile in after us.
They don’t speak for a minute. One motions to the pilot with a hand signal, and then we are lifting up into the air.
I close my eyes and grip Abby’s hand tightly; she knows that I hate heights. Though, given the choice between this helicopter and running in the field, I will choose the helicopter every time.
As one, the men in the helicopter remove their combat helmets, and I get
“He had to have come from somewhere, hopefully there’s a farm around here.”
I try to feel motivated and relieved by his words, but I can’t help but wonder what will happen to us when we finally do bunk down and that horde behind us catches up. I hate this running across the countryside stuff, but I know I will hate being trapped inside four walls by two hundred monsters even more.
We take another short walking break before Ryan ruthlessly prods us back into a jog. I am beginning to envy the unfeeling state of the zombies, and I don’t initially notice the noise as the wind whistles past my ears. It starts off as a weird noise that I can’t place, but then it begins to get louder and louder. I finally realize what I’m hearing. It’s the whirring sound of helicopter blades. All four of our heads turn to the sky. We stop running and wave our arms as an olive-drab combat helicopter comes flying into view.
The sound sends a thrill through my body, but also terror at the amount of noise and attention it’s attracting. Ryan doesn’t hesitate. He starts waving his arms around and jumping up and down like a crazy person. The girls and I join in. I try to jump as enthusiastically as Ryan, but it isn’t easy on legs that are on the verge of collapse. The helicopter starts to circle, and I get my hopes up that maybe someone is going to rescue us. Suddenly, the helicopter flies off and heads back towards the herd behind us.
I fall to the ground and cover my ears when the deafening roar of a machine gun starts blasting off. The others follow me down, and we huddle in a terrified pile for a minute. When no bullets pierce through our bodies, we slowly sit up and turn back to see the helicopter hovering in front of the zombies with a huge machine gun rattling off round after round. The zombies fall to the ground in a huge messy pile of slick, black blood. Some of them aren’t dead for real yet, despite the numerous bullets punched through their flesh. Their torso’s wiggle around, slipping in the gooey mess made by their fallen comrades.
When nothing is left standing, the helicopter turns back to us. I feel a huge rush of wind and dirt sting my eyes and face. I stand still and close my eyes, bracing myself for the bullets, but they don’t come. The wind is increasing so drastically that I am almost blown over, and I realize that the helicopter is landing. It touches down lightly on the grass—no more than fifteen feet away. The doors are thrown open, and six army men in combat fatigues, carrying large automatic guns, come barreling out.
They form a complicated-looking formation that covers every angle with the business end of their rifles. It’s smart, but I don’t like the number of guns pointed at us.
“Have any of you been bitten?” One of the army men comes and stands so close to us that his spittle hits me in the face. He’s practically screaming to be heard over the whirring of the chopper blades. We emphatically shake our heads no, and he seems satisfied.
“Come with us,” he motions to the helicopter, and I don’t even hesitate. Once I move forward, Ryan and the others follow. Large, gloved hands reach down and help us up while the rest of the men remain outside to cover our backs. The rest of the men pile in after us.
They don’t speak for a minute. One motions to the pilot with a hand signal, and then we are lifting up into the air.
I close my eyes and grip Abby’s hand tightly; she knows that I hate heights. Though, given the choice between this helicopter and running in the field, I will choose the helicopter every time.
As one, the men in the helicopter remove their combat helmets, and I get
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