Reach: A Zombie Apocalypse Short Story Read online

  Baileigh Higgins

  Reach

  A Zombie Apocalypse Short Story

  Copyright © Baileigh Higgins, 2018

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  First edition

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  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1 - The Wait

  Chapter 2 - The Outside

  Chapter 3 - The Bunker

  Chapter 4 - The Escape

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  Sneak Preview - Death's Children

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Many thanks to my family and friends for their tireless support and dedication to me during good times and bad. Also, a shout-out to Daqri from Covers by Combs for the lovely book cover she designed for this story.

  I love and appreciate you all!

  Chapter 1 - The Wait

  I fingered the bracelet clasped around my wrist while I waited, hunched in the darkness that was my home. Though I could not see them, I could feel the outline of the engraved words that ran along the length of the silver band. “To my wife, Lucy. With all my love. Thomas.”

  Lucy. That was my name, though everybody called me Luce for short. Or bitch, depending on their prevailing opinion of me. It hardly mattered. Nothing mattered except the hunt.

  My lips curled upward into a wolfish grin. Day had come, and soon, soon I’d be able to leave this cramped basement and run outside into the open air. I closed my eyes and imagined the thrill of the chase, the freedom that would course through my veins, the sheer rush of the kill when it―

  “Luce? Luce, are you there?”

  A gravelly voice interrupted my thoughts, and I ground my teeth together. “What is it, Stacy?”

  “We have a lot of new recruits with us today,” Stacy answered.

  “Yeah, so?”

  She sighed. “Can I count on you to stick with the group? Just this once?”

  I bristled. Nobody told me what to do. Not even her, my superior. It was an unspoken rule. “I’ll see.”

  “Please, Luce,” Stacy pleaded which must have been hard for the woman who’d been the leader of our little group for more than a year now. Tall and brawny, she could almost pass for a man with the black stubble that covered both her head and upper lip.

  I rolled my eyes but gave in, prompted by my good mood. “Fine, Stacy. I’ll babysit the newbies, all right? Don’t expect me to do it every time, though.”

  “I’m worried about Robbie, in particular. He’s not cut out for this,” she continued.

  “Then he shouldn’t be here,” I said, feeling little sympathy for the scrawny kid with the zero coordination and poor eyesight who’d insisted on joining our group. Stacy’s sixteen-year-old cousin. “He can’t even catch a ball, for crying out loud.”

  “I know, but maybe after today, he’ll realize that and stay at home.” She shifted again. “He only got in because of me. Because he felt it was his duty to his family.”

  That was true. Usually, only the strongest were selected for the Hunters. We were the best. The Killers. The Protectors. Robbie was none of those things. “He’s a wimp.”

  “No argument there, but he’s my sister’s only child, and I couldn’t bear it if something happened to him. Please, just look after him for today. I’ll take care of the other newbies.”

  She shifted in the dark, and the smell of rancid sweat washed across my nostrils. Not that I could talk. We all stunk. Water was pretty scarce down here, and not to be wasted on petty things like bathing.

  Living in underground bunkers had its perks. Okay, one perk. Safety. The drawbacks were numerous, though. Sunshine was something you only ever dreamed about. Food and water were scarce, space at a premium, and medical care rudimentary at best.

  Of all those who lived here, I was the toughest. Or the meanest. A lone wolf. Which was why Stacy had asked for my help concerning Robbie. I was the best, and she knew it. I groaned with frustration. “One time, Stacy. One time. If he makes it through today, he’d better stay at home with his mommy, because I’m not doing it again.”

  “Thanks,” she said before moving away.

  Once she was gone, I closed my eyes. This was my time to relax, to focus my mind on the job ahead, to hone my killer instinct. It wasn’t hard. It’s what I lived for. That and revenge against the horde.

  My lip curled as I remembered the day so many years ago when my life changed irrevocably. I was so stupid back then, thinking I could live a normal life during the zombie apocalypse. Even have a family. If there’s one thing my childhood should have taught me, it’s that nothing lasts forever.

  I snorted. Nothing triumphs but death.

  Stacy cleared her throat, and I opened my eyes. “Get ready everyone. We leave in two minutes.”

  Murmurs of assent were followed by rustles in the dark as everyone stood up in preparation. Except for me. I stayed put, still leaning with my back against the wall. Nervous titters rose from the Gatherers. It was never easy for them to leave the safety of the bunker, despite having us, the Hunters, to protect them. I didn’t blame them. It was a predator’s world out there with no place for the weak.

  Stacy lit the lamp next to the bunker doors. The feeble flame flickered in the dark, illuminating the faces of the people gathered. The Gatherers looked pale and scared, a flock of sheep hiding from the wolf in the forest. They had reason to be afraid.

  Next to them, the expressions of the Hunters were set, grim and determined. Their heads were shaved like mine, even the women. Hair got in the way. Many a survivor had died in the beginning when the dead got a grip on their luscious locks, or an errant strand interfered with their aim.

  I pushed to my feet and smoothed my hands over my clothes. They were functional and plain, made for combat with what materials we could scavenge. Black tights covered my legs, and a knife was strapped to each thigh. Knee-high boots protected my calves from crawlers, and a metal spike adorned each heel and steel plated toe. A long-sleeved shirt covered my torso with thick leather pads sewn in place around my neck, shoulders, and arms. A gun with a silencer was strapped to my hip, but with so little ammo available, it was only for the direst of emergencies. My primary weapon hung in a sheath on the other hip. A razor-sharp machete. Slung across my back was a crossbow and a quiver of arrows, my secondary weapon.

  Stacy whispered a few words in Robbie’s ear, and he made his way to my side with a shy look on his face. Ducking his head, he said, “My aunt says I’m supposed to stick with you today.”

  I sighed, biting back the sharp words hovering on my tongue. “That’s right. Stay close to me, and keep quiet. Got that?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I eyed him with irritation, noting his utter lack of muscle development. He was not built for this at all, but that wasn’t my problem. Not after today, anyway. Instead, I turned my attention toward the doors as Stacy prepared to open them.

  They swung open without a sound, the hinges oiled to perfection. Noise was the enemy, and nobody wanted to lure the horde toward the bunker. In single file, we trooped outside with the hunters taking the lead.

  A long flight of steps led upward to the second set of doors. These opened onto a narrow ledge set in a cliff face. From there, we would descend to the ground using a rope ladder. Since the infec
ted couldn’t climb, it was pretty safe, but not foolproof. If enough of them cottoned on to the bunker, they’d merely swarm it like ants until they reached the opening in the mountain, hence the need for stealth.

  For several minutes, we waited while Stacy scanned the surroundings with an ancient set of binoculars. Only when she gave the go-ahead, did we drop the ladder and descend. Once on the ground, we fanned out, forming a protective half circle. Behind us, the Gatherers followed.

  I stared into the distance, looking for any signs of movement. At the same time, I was acutely aware of the boy clinging to my side like a burr to a woolen blanket. At least, he had the sense to keep his mouth shut.

  We’d cleared the area of brush and trees a long time ago to provide a clear field of vision, and nothing stirred in the knee-high grass around us. With practiced hand signals, Stacy led the way forward, and we moved forward in a tight circle. Hunters on the outside, Gatherers on the inside.

  It didn’t take long for me to spot the cultivated fields; rows containing a mixture of grains, vegetables, and hay. With a nod toward Stacy, I walked around the perimeter with Robbie behind me, scouting for intruders.

  The fields were surrounded by a low wall of stone, about chest-height. No ordinary wall could keep the hordes at bay. Only the great walled cities like St. Francis could withstand them. This was meant more for wildlife than zombies. None of us wanted our crops eaten by deer or wild pigs.

  Moving as one unit, we Hunters swept the perimeter before giving the all-clear signal. At Stacy’s whispered command, the gatherers poured into the fields. Each had a job. Weeding, watering, planting, and harvesting. Time was of the essence, this they knew, so they moved as quickly as possible.

  Most of the Hunters chose a spot in the shade and hunkered down, watching…waiting. Not me. I lived for these precious moments out in the sunshine. I hated the dark. It reminded me too much of the time my mother died, giving her life to protect me while I hid in a tiny air duct, listening to her being eaten alive. I was only five at the time and now shivered and pushed the memory away. Even after thirty years, it still had the power to hurt me.

  I glanced down at the boy who shadowed me. Robbie. Once more, irritation welled up inside. Why was he here? He belonged with the Gatherers, or the Cooks, or the Cleaners. Even the Herders. Anyone but the Hunters. Still, something in his eyes drew me in and tugged at my heart. They reminded me of a deer’s, soft and brown. Just like hers.

  Frowning, I looked away and focused on my surroundings. Now was not the time for sentiment. She was gone, and I’d never see her again. Leave it in the past.

  Chapter 2 - The Outside

  “Come on. Keep up,” I said, as I turned to do another sweep of the perimeter.

  In silence, Robbie obeyed, sticking close to me. With great care, I moved through the grass, keeping all sound to a minimum. My eyes swept across the open field and penetrated into the brush around its edges.

  Bit by bit, I worked closer to the line of stunted thorn trees and undergrowth, aware of the sun shining on my brow and the thin trickle of sweat that worked its way down my spine. My stomach tightened in anticipation, not so much in fear of the undead as simply the prospect of action.

  The shade of a young jackalberry tree enfolded me, and I paused beneath its canopy to look deeper into the treeline. Far behind me, the Gatherers went about their work with studied haste while Stacey and the rest of the Hunters kept guard. As ever, I was the only one that roamed. Nobody else had the guts to wander far, and judging from my charge’s pale face, neither did he.

  “Uh, ma’am. Shouldn’t we go back?” he whispered.

  I shot him a look that had him pressing his lips into a tight line. “Shush.”

  Without looking back, I edged farther into the undergrowth, placing each foot with care. To my surprise, Robbie copied me, even managing to move in silence. My estimation of him increased by a millimeter.

  A few minutes later, the sound of rustling leaves caused me to pause. I raised a hand and waved at Robbie to stay put while my eyes searched for the source of the noise.

  There!

  I spotted it.

  It was a bushbuck. A male. Sturdy in size.

  Immediately, my mouth watered at the thought of fresh meat. It was a rare treat. The only animals we could keep in the bunker were chickens, and they were for eggs. Not meat. While we Hunters went out sometimes in search of prey, it was a dangerous occupation, and we often returned to the bunker reduced in numbers and empty-handed. To find an animal so close to home was a wonder. They were scarce. Hunted by both us and the infected.

  With extreme care, I removed my bow and a single arrow from my back. I’d only get one shot at this. I knocked the arrow and aimed at the buck’s heart, the spot right behind its shoulder. My vision narrowed until the animal became all I saw.

  It chewed on a bright green leaf, its moist black lips and nose twitching with the motions. It flicked its tail at a buzzing fly before lowering its head for another bite at the succulent bush in front of it. My breath eased out from between my lips as I prepared to take the shot.

  Suddenly, Robbie grabbed my shoulder and yanked me backward. The arrow flew from the bow, missing its targets by miles. The buck bounded away, and I sucked in an angry breath, prepared to let loose a torrent of rage on the unfortunate Robbie.

  But something in his face gave me pause, and I kept my mouth shut as I looked back at the place the buck had stood moment ago. That’s when I saw them. A cluster of infected moving through the brush. They’d seen the buck too, and now set off in pursuit of it through the tangled undergrowth, their movements awkward but determined. While they’d never catch the agile buck, they were an obvious threat to us.

  Pressing a finger to my lips, I indicated to Robbie to go back. He obeyed, once more moving silently which I appreciated. We reached the open field, and I took the lead. With swift strides, I made my way over to Stacy. She glanced at me, and her features tightened with worry. “What’s wrong?”

  “We need to move. Now. I saw a handful of infected over there, but who knows how many more are hiding in the trees?” I said.

  She jumped upright. “Thanks, Luce. Let’s move everyone back to the bunker.”

  With practiced hand signals, Stacy got the Gatherers grouped together with their equipment and harvest clutched tightly in their hands. Their faces were frightened, but they remained calm as they’d been taught many a time before. To panic was to die.

  The Hunters circled around them as everyone rushed back to the bunker where a single lookout waited. At their approach, the lookout dropped the ladder, and the Gatherers ascended first followed by Stacy and the rest of the Hunters. As usual, I hung back, waiting for the last spot. This time, Robbie waited with me.

  I fingered my machete with one hand while I circled, my senses on high alert for danger. Then I heard it. That low thrum of groans and snarls so peculiar to the infected. There was no other sound quite like it on this earth.

  Within moments, they were there, shambling over the horizon with that awful gait so typical for them. That single-minded shuffle that told you they’d never stop, never tire, and never turn back. Not until you were dead or one of them.

  I reached back for my bow and loosed arrow after arrow at the oncoming undead. Very few of my shots missed, years of practice paying off as I dropped one corpse after the other. My last bolt planted itself between the eyes of a zombie child, its lips peeled back from its teeth after years of exposure and decay. The feathered shaft stuck out against its grayish skin, the colors bright and gay. But more were coming, and I slung my bow back into place.

  With a fluid motion, I pulled my machete, prepared to fight to the death. Robbie stood frozen next to the ladder, his eyes wide, while another Hunter called David was still on the ground next to me. He pulled his two knives from their sheaths and crouched down in preparation.

  I cast him a glance. “Ready?”

  “Ready,” David answered, his face grim as the two
dozen zombies closed in on us.

  “Robbie, snap out of it. Arm yourself. This is what you trained for. Remember?” I shouted at the boy.

  He turned his frightened gaze on me but failed to move. With a muttered curse, I flung myself at the nearest advancing corpse, realizing that Robbie’s fate was in my hands.

  I slashed sideways with the machete, neatly decapitating the zombie. His head landed to the side where it lay, teeth gnashing at the air. With a swift thrust. I pushed the point of my weapon through the eye of the next infected. It collapsed next to its friend, while David took down another.

  Like a whirlwind, I hacked and slashed, avoiding the skull when I could. Due to their evolution, the zombie’s bones were no longer quite so brittle, and their heads not an ideal target for a blade.

  Instead, I aimed for the neck, removing the head entirely or spearing the brain through the eye socket or from beneath the chin. When all else failed, I’d hack off the legs at the knee, rendering them unable to walk. It wasn’t ideal but would do in a pinch.

  Like always, I lost myself in the thrill of battle. My blood sang through my veins even as undead blood splattered across my skin and clothes, coating me in a fine mist of black spots. The thrill of the kill carried me onward, my muscles moving of their own accord.

  As usual, the smell was unpleasant but not nearly as bad as in the old days when the zombies were still fresh and rotting. Now it was much like I imagined a mummy would smell like. Old death.

  Arrows whizzed past my head, taking down a few more of the rotters. They were shot by those on the ledge, fired with unerring accuracy. They, like me, knew we had to kill all of them. Not one could be left alive to signal our location to the horde. Just one was all it took. One clawing zombie scrabbling at the cliff face, and they’d swarm the area, making it impossible to live there.

  Suddenly, I heard Robbie scream and whirled toward him. An infected had him in its grasp, preparing to bite. I launched into the air and brought my machete down on its head with all my might. It worked, the blade crunching deep into the bone with all my weight behind it. The zombie fell without a sound.