Becoming Them: A Zombie Novel

Twenty

     I had passed out on a nearby bench. The exhaustion won over the worry I felt about zeds, or anyone else getting to me. The walk to wherever had numbed and pained my legs, and lying down in an uncomfortable position on a hardwood bench caused my back to feel sore.

     The soles of my boots had eroded quite a bit, and would not last for much longer. A migraine had formed in my head, and my stomach felt worryingly empty. I needed something in me soon, especially water.

     A distant sound caught my attention. A voice. A very familiar voice. I got up and followed it, my legs skipping rapidly, but softly as if I were in some musical and every step I took was in beat with the song that played.

     Coming to a stop at a corner, I peered around it and noticed him leaning on the same wall, his back to me. But I had already known before I got a good look at him. That familiar build and grey hair. It was the guy that had tried to kill me just the day before. Oh, good times.

     "Yeah, I think I'm gonna have to take you up on your offer, mate. You should see my place. Absolutely wrecked," a gruff voice muttered. Then he belted out a laugh. "Yup, got a bunch of those flesh-freaks piling up inside of it. Irredeemable ... I know I just lost my stuff, can't a man laugh at the upside? I'm not dead! And I've got you to take care of me ... So you'll get here in thirty-or-so minutes? Okay, I'm good with that ... Mhm." He hung up.

     Staring at him, the man must've been in his forties, but was extremely well-built. A good form for survival. He'd suit the army. Maybe he was a veteran, actually. Either way, I believed this man could crush me, and would not be afraid or regretful in doing so.

     I didn't know what I was waiting for just crouched awkwardly behind a brick wall. I mean, what did I expect to happen when his buddies came, who could also be incredibly built and intimidating and ruthless in their killings? Even though the possibilities of me and his associates being friendly with each other were slim to none, I still sat here, waiting. With barely any other options, this didn't seem too bad.

     After what felt like forever, the loud roar of a truck engine sounded from across the street, close to where the man was standing. He let out a long breath as if to say "finally. you took your damn time!"

     The large truck came to a stop in front of the man. Three men exited the vehicle. Why did they need such a large truck just to pick him up?

     "Joey!" one of the men greeted him, giving him one of those half-hugs guys do. "I thought you'd've been dead by the first week!"

     "Thanks for being so faithful," the man — Joey — replied distastefully.

     "Aw, well, I knew you'd end up in our camp sometime otherwise. Just didn't think it would be so soon." The other man grinned. He was a tad shorter and less bulky than Joey, but I doubt I could win a fight with him either.

     The other two men stood idly by the truck, awaiting their companions patiently, listening in on two friends catching up and having a laugh.

     "Hardly my fault. Some girlie came parading in trying to steal my stuff. Got the crazies' attention. She's probably all bones now, haha," he exclaimed. Hurtful. "And can't say I'm happy about staying at the camp - I'd have to see your ugly mug every day."

     The man chuckled. "You know you love me."

     Joey only grimaced jokingly, then gestured to the truck. "Why the truck?"

     "Food. The damn thing's almost full. Everyone's gonna be pretty happy," he said, a gleeful smile emerging on his face.

     "Good job, then, Scotty."

     At the thought of food, I drowned out their voices. I needed to get into that truck. But I had to be tactical. I highly doubted they would welcome me with open arms, especially since I had already been acquainted with one of the men and failed to make a good impression, to put it lightly.

     After a few minutes of hard thinking, I huffed in annoyance. I needed to be quick, damn it. They wouldn't stand there all day.

     Maybe I could go around this building, arrive on the other side, and get to the truck from behind when they get in. That was the only doable plan I had in mind. I had to just roll with it.

     "Got any other places you'd want to check out here?" Joey asked the man named Scotty.

     He shook his head. "Nah, I think we've got everything we need," he replied.

     Hurriedly, I moved to the other side. I was out of breath and arrived just in time to notice three of the men hopping into the front, while the last one—one of the silent ones—had jaunted to the back of the truck.

     It was now or never.

     I dashed toward him, my gun in hand until I was right behind him. "Stop right there, mister." I ignored the quiver in my voice. Took the safety off and pointed the weapon right at his head. He passively raised his hands in surrender.

     "Open the door," I demanded.

     He stood still.

     "I said open it, damn it!"

     "Alright, alright," he replied. I couldn't tell if he was actually afraid or not. If he was, he was a lot better at hiding it than me, and I was the one holding the gun.

     As he began unhooking the bottom, I heard a click from behind me.

     "I don't think so, girlie," Joey said. I closed my eyes and let out a breath knowing I'd been caught. I took a risk and it backfired.

     I reluctantly turned, my hands raised and shaking all the time, to meet the barrel of a gun a few feet from my face. Scotty and the other man stood beside Joey, watching in amusement. 

     "Drop the gun," he ordered. My hand released the gun, flinching when it hit the floor. Scotty picked it up and pocketed it.

     Joey looked unsure as if he was contemplating whether to kill me or not. My chances probably weren't great if he was the one deciding my fate, considering I was the reason he lost all of his belongings and his home to zeds. I'd be pretty pissed if I were him.

     It was like I just lost the ability to speak. My mind was filled with knots of worries. I wanted to plead for my life, to beg him not to kill me. I did not come this far just to die so mercilessly. But living in this type of world now, some people just didn't have that kind of luck. That could be me right now.

     Lowering the gun, Joey said, "Bag her."

     "Wh—" I began to say, but was cut off due to a dusty, rag-like bag being put over my head, squeezing my head slightly. Before I could even comprehend what was happening, I was being dragged in one direction, toward the truck.

     I heard the loud creak of a door opening and I was pulled into that direction, and inside. The truck had a weird smell to it. I tried to be careful of my steps, but they didn't seem to care if I tripped. One of them sat me down on what seemed to be a box and pulled my hands together in front of me, then tied them with rope. I was shaking so much, but I was silent the whole time.

     "We're good," he exclaimed, and then I heard the door close. Soon we were on the road.