Siege (As the World Dies #3)(130)

The Durango sped past the cluster of zombies at the crossroads and Bette fought her instincts to flee and slowed it down enough to keep the zombies interested. Twisting around in her seat, Linda looked back toward the creatures now stumbling after them. “They’re following,” she whispered, both terrified and jubilant.



Then the runners appeared.





3. Running with the Dead

“We have runners!” Greta’s voice was so sharp and loud in their headsets that Curtis yelped.

Kevin scrambled to the window and looked down. “Shit! Where the hell did they come from?”

“They’re gaining fast,” Curtis answered.

“Ed,” Kevin said, motioning to the grizzled old hunter seated near the door.

“Got it,” Ed answered.

The old geezer double checked his harness, then slid the door open. Wind buffeted them and Kevin pressed his clipboard tightly to his chest. Flipping off the safety on his rifle, Ed took aim as Greta swung the helicopter down low for him to get a good shot.

“What do I do?” Bette’s voice was crackling over the radio as Linda screamed, “Runners! Runners!”

“Go! Go! Go!” Kevin answered firmly. “Gun it!” Below them, the runners were now racing alongside the Durango, smashing their hands against the SUV, howling with hunger. There were at least thirty of them.



The Durango lurched forward in response to Kevin’s order, leaving the shambling dead behind, but still being pursued by the shrieking runners.





*

“Babe, calm down,” Bette said firmly.

Linda was fighting her panic with all her might, but she couldn’t help the trembling of her hands. She gulped, twisting around in her chair to look out the back window. The runners were keeping pace. The road was winding and Bette couldn’t risk going too fast for fear of flipping them.

A disgusting, bloody figure kept pace beside the Durango. Its mouth was open as it screamed. The entire lower half of its face had been torn away and its gaping maw was the stuff of nightmares. Its head suddenly exploded and it fell, tumbling along the roadside, before it landed in a bush. “They’re shooting them,” Linda said, feeling the knot in her chest lessen.

Bette didn’t answer as she concentrated on the winding road ahead and kept a diligent eye on the throng behind them. As the Durango began to take a long slowly arcing curve, Bette’s eyes widened as a large portion of the zombies merely ran into the field, ignoring the road.

“They’re going to head us off,” Bette gasped. “Greta! Greta! They’re going to head us off!”



“I’ve got you covered,” Greta answered. The helicopter began to zoom as low as possible over the zombies in the field, buffeting the running creatures from above. A few fell, but the more persistent, less mutilated ones, kept their breathtaking sped toward the road. Linda wasn’t sure how many fell from the wind drafts or the sniper shots from above, but quite a few of the zombies fell into the deep grass, disappearing from view.



“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Bette’s knuckles went white as she held firmly to the steering wheel as the first of the runners reached the road ahead of her and charged them. Linda grabbed hold of the handhold over the door and braced herself.

The Durango slammed into the zombies and there was a sickening lurch to one side as something caught in one of the wheel wells. Bette regained control and the undead were tossed away from the front of the truck like chaff in the wind. Some of them were still smart enough or something akin to that to dart out of the way then leap onto the side of the Durango, hooking their gnarled fingers around the luggage rack.

Linda screamed as one snarled at her through her window and began to beat his free hand against the window with all his might.

More zombies leaped onto the road and managed to avoid being struck outright by the Durango. They, too, leaped onto the truck, holding on, even fighting with each other as they tried to get at the two women inside.



The banging of the bloodied fists and feet against the windows and doors had both women shaken. Trying hard to compensate for the extra weight as she drove on, Bette whispered a soft prayer. The zombie pounding on Linda’s window was getting more and more agitated, his blows seeming more fierce. Linda took a deep breath, raised her gun, flicked off the safety and placed her finger on the button to roll down the window.

“Babe,” Bette said. “What are you doing?”



“I got it,” Linda assured her. She pushed the button. As the glass slid down, she shoved the gun through the gap and fired point blank into its face. The zombie dropped off the Durango and tumbled away into the ditch. But Linda had forgotten that the window would automatically scroll all the way down if she didn’t stop it. When it kept rolling down, she panicked. Grey, bloodied, shredded arms began to thrust in the window at her and she began to scream.



From above, Curtis watched in fascinated horror as one zombie tried to climb into the Durango as others tore at it, trying to get in instead. The Durango abruptly swerved and for a long moment was airbourne before it slammed down into a field at an angle. It slid across the unplowed, hard ground, shedding zombies as it went, then hit a piece of equipment hidden in the wild grass and flipped completely over. It tumbled maybe two times before coming to a stop, zombie-free, but a mangled wreck.