Infection Runs Deep

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: CLOSING RANKS

I tensed, tapping Warner and jerking my head sideways. My voice was barely audible. "Infected on your eight."

Slowly, Warner turned to look, careful not to make any sudden movements or excess noise. Our sanctioned and unpublished research showed that the infected were docile until agitated. Something about noise and speed just pissed them off.

The infected stared right at me, its brown eyes surrounded by yellow and ringed with black circles. Haunting and ghastly. Half of its cheek was missing, torn out and bloody. The white of his jaw peeked out through the battlefield of scarlet rivers. What unnerved me most was the human arm clutched in his mottled hands, one that didn't belong to him.

"What do we do?" Warner mouthed, trying to come up with some sort of solution. "Put a bullet in his brain?"

My hand drifted to my gun, but that wasn't the best decision. The sound from the kickback might just attract more infected. I didn't think that this old truck could make it through a horde.

Warner pointed to the button that moved the windows. I shook my head, but Warner was so close to hitting it. I reached out with my good arm, trying to pull him back. Warner flailed, bumping into the wheel and setting off the horn.

The infected lost its mind. Snarling and jaws snapping, the infected prowled at the doors. Red streaks of coagulated blood coated the window at my side. "Warner, we need to get out of here. Now."

"No shit," he grumbled back, starting the ignition. "I'm working on it." He pulled away from the infected, but it held fast to the bed of the truck. Warner jerked the wheel, sending the infected barreling into the curb.

Slowly, it clawed its way to its knees, leaving smears on blood along the pavement. We were too far for it to catch us now. Despite their seeming inability to feel pain, normal human limits still applied to them. They could never outrun a car, especially not one winding down narrow streets at breakneck speeds.

"Watch out for the other cars," I shouted, bracing myself as Warner turned sharply. He clipped another car, sending the tail end of the truck spinning wide. "Jesus, Warner. This isn't bumper cars." As he righted the car, a wave of dizziness hit me like a brick. I was losing too much blood.

"I think we lost them." Warner glanced in the rearview. Shifting in my seat, I groaned. "Shit, dude. You bled through your bandaids. This is a problem."

I leaned my head against the headrest, savoring the warmth running down my shoulder. I was so cold. My eyes drifted shut, but I forced them to stay open. "We need a hospital. This is getting worse by the minute." A red stain now covered my entire sleeve and half my chest. The pain lessened, but everything else worsened. My vision lacked its normal clarity, my ears picking up a faint ringing. With a start, I realized that it was Warner talking.

"Falls, come on. We're almost there." He grit his teeth and smashed our front bumper into a green blur. "Shit, it's too crowded." He looked at me pleadingly. "This is gonna hurt like a bitch, but we need to walk the rest of the way. The closer we get to the city, the more cars there are. It's like people just abandoned them in the middle of the streets."

I didn't care. What difference did it make if it was the street or the curb or in their driveways. What mattered was that they were abandoned and the city was wrecked.

"You gotta walk, Falls. Can you do that?" Warner's voice was stronger now, his face clearer.

"Yeah," I ground out, gritting my teeth as I swung open the door. "I got this."

I jumped out, my knees caving as I hit the pavement. My shoulder screamed when it hit the pavement, waves of balck coastung my vision.

"Why the f--" Warner bit down on his insult as he scrambled out of the driver's seat and helped me to my feet. "You are such a dumbass."