His face was pale and wet with sweat and tears. In that moment I knew he was dying. He was fighting it bravely, but he had already admitted as much to himself. Death was coming for him, and he was looking it in the eye.
“We need to keep going,” I said.
“Get bent.”
“Let’s get inside, Carlos. Please.”
“I said leave me the fuck alone. I don’t want your—”
The pained look melted from his face and changed to that of a professional policeman once again. I saw it happen almost instantly.
His eyes narrowed to a point just over my shoulder, and he said, “Behind you.”
I turned and looked across the parking lot.
At first I only saw five zombies shambling toward us. Then eight. Then more than I could count. There had to be a hundred of them or more in a narrowing half circle around us.
Carlos fell back against the doors of the gym and slid down to the ground. He sat there looking around us and coughed.
“You’ve got to help me,” I said, trying to pick him up. “Come on. We’ve got to go.”
“There’s nowhere to go. You go if you want to.”
I tried to lift him again, but he wouldn’t let me. “Please get up. Come on.”
He wouldn’t even look at me.
“You son of a bitch. I’m not gonna die here. Get up.”
I pulled him up from his shoulder, but couldn’t hold him. He slipped back down and fell over to one side.
“Get up.”
The zombies behind me were getting closer. I could hear their feet scraping along the pavement. They all moved at different speeds, some of them closing in faster than others depending on their injuries. The ones with their legs intact were the fastest.
One of them stepped over the curb to my left and I shot her.
After that I just started firing at any of them that got too close. By the time I fired through all three of my magazines there were piles of dead bodies all around us, but there were still a lot more of them closing in on us.
“I’m out,” I said over my shoulder. I holstered my gun and pulled out my baton.
I took a deep breath and waited, watching the crowd for the best place to strike. I knew the first move would be the most important. If I read the crowd wrong and let them get between Carlos and me, there’d be no way to double back and keep them off him.
It had to be right the first time.
But before I got a chance to move, I heard the crack of a rifle shot and the whistle of the bullet as it went by my head.
I moved left and spun around in a panic, and saw Carlos still seated against the door. But now he had Moraga’s AR-15. Somehow he found the energy to lift Moraga’s corpse and remove the rifle. He had his knees up in front of his chest, and the barrel of the AR-15 supported between them. His left arm hung uselessly by his side, but he still managed to fire with the right.
He cleared out the ten or so zombies closest to us, and then started shooting at the next wave. Even in his condition, he still managed to place kill shots at thirty yards.
When he fired his last round, he let the rifle slip from his hand.
I ran over to Moraga and searched him for more AR magazines, but all he had were two Glock magazines. I grabbed them both and went back to Carlos.
“You have to get up. Come on.”
He muttered something, but I couldn’t make it out.
“Come on,” I said, begging him. “Get up.”
He blinked at me, but after a moment he let me help him up.
We moved around the front side of the building, past long rows of neatly cut hedges, and up to the front door. It was an older school, built in the fifties, and the front steps were steep. I looked for a wheelchair ramp, but didn’t see one.
“We’re gonna have to climb up.”
He grunted.
I pulled him up the stairs to the front doors and propped him against the doorjamb. The doors were locked.
“Goddamn it. It’s locked.”
I thought I heard Carlos laugh. “School lets out at three,” he said.
“Come on. Maybe there’s a window or something.”
We went down to the
“We need to keep going,” I said.
“Get bent.”
“Let’s get inside, Carlos. Please.”
“I said leave me the fuck alone. I don’t want your—”
The pained look melted from his face and changed to that of a professional policeman once again. I saw it happen almost instantly.
His eyes narrowed to a point just over my shoulder, and he said, “Behind you.”
I turned and looked across the parking lot.
At first I only saw five zombies shambling toward us. Then eight. Then more than I could count. There had to be a hundred of them or more in a narrowing half circle around us.
Carlos fell back against the doors of the gym and slid down to the ground. He sat there looking around us and coughed.
“You’ve got to help me,” I said, trying to pick him up. “Come on. We’ve got to go.”
“There’s nowhere to go. You go if you want to.”
I tried to lift him again, but he wouldn’t let me. “Please get up. Come on.”
He wouldn’t even look at me.
“You son of a bitch. I’m not gonna die here. Get up.”
I pulled him up from his shoulder, but couldn’t hold him. He slipped back down and fell over to one side.
“Get up.”
The zombies behind me were getting closer. I could hear their feet scraping along the pavement. They all moved at different speeds, some of them closing in faster than others depending on their injuries. The ones with their legs intact were the fastest.
One of them stepped over the curb to my left and I shot her.
After that I just started firing at any of them that got too close. By the time I fired through all three of my magazines there were piles of dead bodies all around us, but there were still a lot more of them closing in on us.
“I’m out,” I said over my shoulder. I holstered my gun and pulled out my baton.
I took a deep breath and waited, watching the crowd for the best place to strike. I knew the first move would be the most important. If I read the crowd wrong and let them get between Carlos and me, there’d be no way to double back and keep them off him.
It had to be right the first time.
But before I got a chance to move, I heard the crack of a rifle shot and the whistle of the bullet as it went by my head.
I moved left and spun around in a panic, and saw Carlos still seated against the door. But now he had Moraga’s AR-15. Somehow he found the energy to lift Moraga’s corpse and remove the rifle. He had his knees up in front of his chest, and the barrel of the AR-15 supported between them. His left arm hung uselessly by his side, but he still managed to fire with the right.
He cleared out the ten or so zombies closest to us, and then started shooting at the next wave. Even in his condition, he still managed to place kill shots at thirty yards.
When he fired his last round, he let the rifle slip from his hand.
I ran over to Moraga and searched him for more AR magazines, but all he had were two Glock magazines. I grabbed them both and went back to Carlos.
“You have to get up. Come on.”
He muttered something, but I couldn’t make it out.
“Come on,” I said, begging him. “Get up.”
He blinked at me, but after a moment he let me help him up.
We moved around the front side of the building, past long rows of neatly cut hedges, and up to the front door. It was an older school, built in the fifties, and the front steps were steep. I looked for a wheelchair ramp, but didn’t see one.
“We’re gonna have to climb up.”
He grunted.
I pulled him up the stairs to the front doors and propped him against the doorjamb. The doors were locked.
“Goddamn it. It’s locked.”
I thought I heard Carlos laugh. “School lets out at three,” he said.
“Come on. Maybe there’s a window or something.”
We went down to the
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