world collapsing around me I don't want anyone to judge me the way I judged him. I don't want people to think I'm a coward who'd abandon his girlfriend. I'm putting myself in harm's way because I don't want people to think less of me.
Jesus , I'm fucked up.
I push the thought from my head, take a deep breath, heft the baseball bat so I can grip it in the middle, and turn into the street. I stick close to the walls on the south side of the road, the red brick still wet from the rain. The sound of my jacket scraping against the rough surface sounds deafening in the eerie silence. I take a step away, terrified that a thousand killers might hear me and come flooding around the corner.
Nothing comes.
Where is everybody?
The Prius is just a few dozen feet away now, and I stop behind the cover of a parked Lincoln to cautiously check it out. It's not crashed. It just looks abandoned, like the driver had to get out of there in a hurry, and I wonder if he might have left the key in the ignition. The roads look clear enough, and I figure the quiet electric motor might make it a perfect stealthy getaway vehicle once I find Kate.
I decide to risk stepping out into the open. The gunfire sounds like it's all far away now. Whoever was shooting nearby a minute ago seems to have stopped. I step out from behind the Lincoln and slowly, carefully make my way towards the Prius, creeping from car to car, my head low.
It's just a few feet from me now. I cross the street stealthily and slowly lower myself to the ground to check out the space beneath the car. All clear. I stand up and walk to the door, but the moment I reach out and touch the frame I hear a sound that makes my blood freeze in my veins.
Breathing. Slow, wet, rasping breath, like the sucking sound make by the gross little spit vacuum at the dentist.
And it's coming from inside the car.
She comes out of nowhere, launching herself from the back seat towards the dashboard. It all happens too fast to take anything in, but I fall back onto my ass and kick out reflexively, randomly, like a toddler who doesn't want his diaper changed. I don't even realize my foot has connected with the door until I see it slam shut in her face just as she throws herself towards me. Her head bounces against the window with a sickening thunk as the door slams shut.
My ears are ringing and spots flash in front of my eyes, and it takes a few seconds before I realize the crazed, gulping sobs I hear are coming from me. I swallow hard and force myself to take a slow, shuddering breath. Control yourself, Tom. Stop fucking panicking.
I sit there for a moment, my foot pressed against the door just long enough to be sure that it's firmly closed, then push myself from the ground and look in the car.
She's just a kid. Can't be more than ten years old. A cute, chubby little blonde thing, her long hair plaited like the princess from Frozen. She doesn't look like there's anything wrong with her. I can't see any visible wounds from here, apart from the bright red trickle of blood rolling down her forehead from the wound that opened up when she hit the window. She doesn't even have that glazed, milky contact lens look these things always have in the movies. She just looks like a little girl. Snarling and crazed, but a little girl all the same. If I didn't know better I'd assume she was just a normal kid throwing a violent tantrum.
I can't help but feel sorry for her as I watch her watching me. Now the door is closed and I lock eyes with her she holds still, meeting my gaze like a dog asserting its dominance. She looks like she's gone into low power mode, like she's waiting for the next stimulus to trigger an attack.
Not for the first time I wish the Thais hadn't been so fucking stubborn and pigheaded in the wake of their attack. The junta burned most of the bodies, and nobody knows what happened to the few walkers still on their feet after the military
Jesus , I'm fucked up.
I push the thought from my head, take a deep breath, heft the baseball bat so I can grip it in the middle, and turn into the street. I stick close to the walls on the south side of the road, the red brick still wet from the rain. The sound of my jacket scraping against the rough surface sounds deafening in the eerie silence. I take a step away, terrified that a thousand killers might hear me and come flooding around the corner.
Nothing comes.
Where is everybody?
The Prius is just a few dozen feet away now, and I stop behind the cover of a parked Lincoln to cautiously check it out. It's not crashed. It just looks abandoned, like the driver had to get out of there in a hurry, and I wonder if he might have left the key in the ignition. The roads look clear enough, and I figure the quiet electric motor might make it a perfect stealthy getaway vehicle once I find Kate.
I decide to risk stepping out into the open. The gunfire sounds like it's all far away now. Whoever was shooting nearby a minute ago seems to have stopped. I step out from behind the Lincoln and slowly, carefully make my way towards the Prius, creeping from car to car, my head low.
It's just a few feet from me now. I cross the street stealthily and slowly lower myself to the ground to check out the space beneath the car. All clear. I stand up and walk to the door, but the moment I reach out and touch the frame I hear a sound that makes my blood freeze in my veins.
Breathing. Slow, wet, rasping breath, like the sucking sound make by the gross little spit vacuum at the dentist.
And it's coming from inside the car.
She comes out of nowhere, launching herself from the back seat towards the dashboard. It all happens too fast to take anything in, but I fall back onto my ass and kick out reflexively, randomly, like a toddler who doesn't want his diaper changed. I don't even realize my foot has connected with the door until I see it slam shut in her face just as she throws herself towards me. Her head bounces against the window with a sickening thunk as the door slams shut.
My ears are ringing and spots flash in front of my eyes, and it takes a few seconds before I realize the crazed, gulping sobs I hear are coming from me. I swallow hard and force myself to take a slow, shuddering breath. Control yourself, Tom. Stop fucking panicking.
I sit there for a moment, my foot pressed against the door just long enough to be sure that it's firmly closed, then push myself from the ground and look in the car.
She's just a kid. Can't be more than ten years old. A cute, chubby little blonde thing, her long hair plaited like the princess from Frozen. She doesn't look like there's anything wrong with her. I can't see any visible wounds from here, apart from the bright red trickle of blood rolling down her forehead from the wound that opened up when she hit the window. She doesn't even have that glazed, milky contact lens look these things always have in the movies. She just looks like a little girl. Snarling and crazed, but a little girl all the same. If I didn't know better I'd assume she was just a normal kid throwing a violent tantrum.
I can't help but feel sorry for her as I watch her watching me. Now the door is closed and I lock eyes with her she holds still, meeting my gaze like a dog asserting its dominance. She looks like she's gone into low power mode, like she's waiting for the next stimulus to trigger an attack.
Not for the first time I wish the Thais hadn't been so fucking stubborn and pigheaded in the wake of their attack. The junta burned most of the bodies, and nobody knows what happened to the few walkers still on their feet after the military
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