Entry tags:
Vampires vs. Zombies PRT- Chapter 25 of 38
Title: Vampires vs. Zombies PRT
Chapter Rating: R, for ultraviolent zombie mayhem, character death
Chapter Summary: In which Rachel, Keith, and Anderson try to steal a car.
Warning: Character Death
Disclaimer: #NotIntendedToBeAFactualStatement
All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Word Count: ~2500
Author's Note: Continued thanks to![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
themistoklis for beta-reading and constructive suggestions.
Keep the tissues handy for this one, folks. This chapter does not end well for our heroes.
Previous chapters
Chapter 25
“Feel better, now?” Keith asked as Anderson hung up with Jon.
“Yes,” Anderson replied. “We know they’re safe, and that at least some of that crew will be meeting up with us.”
“We’d better get going, then,” Rachel said. “We’ve got a car to steal.” She finished stuffing her things into her backpack, and stood up, her prompt to “get the lead out” not being particularly subtle.
“All right, all right,” Keith said. He began to pack up. Anderson was already finished. “Never thought I’d be jealous of your war-torn region camping skills,” Keith said to him.
“Don’t be,” Anderson said. “Let’s get going. The sun’s all the way up, now.”
Cautiously, Keith lifted the safety gate. Rachel looked to the right, and Anderson covered the left. “Nothing,” he reported.
“Zilch,” Rachel said. “This is weird. Really, really weird.”
“Can you call us an escort again?” Anderson asked.
“I could,” Rachel said slowly. “But I’d rather not. I’d hate to draw attention to us.”
“Good point,” Anderson said.
“Will you two hurry up?” Keith said, long legs carrying him halfway across the street already. “Let’s do this before all hell breaks loose.”
Rachel looked at Anderson and shrugged. She took off sprinting after Keith, Anderson not far behind her.
The car dealership was deserted, and most of the inventory looked all right, at first. There was certainly cosmetic damage: shattered windows, cracked windshields, and violent dents in the bodywork. It looked like the result of an extraordinarily violent hailstorm.
Except that hailstorms didn’t tend to wreck the engines. Keith had opened the hoods on three cars, swearing each time. “God damn it!” he shouted after the fourth one. “Fucking dealer didn’t want his inventory stolen, so he took out parts!”
“This is New York,” Rachel said. “It makes sense, when you think about it.”
“But where are the parts?” Keith fumed. “We can’t just walk to Fox. We’d be caught miles away.”
“They’re probably in the office,” Anderson said. “Let’s go look. There are probably keys in there, too. Makes it easier to drive when you have the keys.”
“Can’t you just hotwire it?” Keith said. “Did you learn that over in Syriana?”
“No,” Anderson said. “Charlie did.” He stopped. “Oh, God,” he said softly. “Charlie.”
Rachel stopped behind Anderson, and patted his shoulder. “I’m sure he’s fine,” she said. “Charlie’s a smart guy. And he’s been everywhere with you. If anyone can survive this, it’s Charlie.”
“I suppose,” Anderson said. He still sounded upset, but Rachel let it go. Instead, she grabbed his hand, and pulled him toward the service center.
Keith led the way, scanning for zombies as he went. “All right, this is just wrong,” he said. “Does anyone else think this is a trap?”
“A trap?” Rachel said. “Set by whom? And why?”
“Set by Beck,” Keith said. He grabbed the doorknob and snorted. The door was locked, but the glass inset in the door was gone. Only a few jagged shards remained in the frame. “And who knows why? To capture his competition? To prove that he is now the omnipotent ruler of all?”
“I think you’re giving him too much credit,” Rachel said. “Beck is devious, even clever. But he’s not some evil genius. He’s a power-tripping Constitution freak. He’s beatable.” She stepped around Keith and into the service center. “I have no idea what any of these parts are for.”
“It’s not that hard,” Keith said. “The spares should be in a storeroom in the back. And if this place is any good, the bins will be labeled.”
Anderson’s gaze drifted to the sales floor. “There are cars out here,” he called. “Why can’t we take one from the sales floor?” He opened the door into the customer waiting area.
“How are we going to get it outside?” Keith called. “And don’t go wandering off, Cooper!”
“I’d say the outside is pretty much here, anyway,” Anderson called back. “And I’m not wandering.”
Keith came out from around the service desk at an angry stomp. He walked up to Anderson. “What?” he said.
“Look, most of the display windows are broken.” Anderson pointed to the huge picture windows. Deadly stalactites of glass hung precariously from the window frames. “We can just drive through one of them.”
“And how are we going to get it started?” Keith asked gruffly. “Hotwire it?”
“Sure,” Anderson said. “It can’t be too hard. And it’s not like we’re in a huge hurry. I bet we’ve got time to figure it out.”
“Well,” Keith said. His stomach felt queasy being out in the open like this. There was no cover to speak of on the sales floor, only a little more in the service area. But Anderson did have a point. None of them was enough of a mechanic to swear they could make a disabled car run, or run for long.
Anderson gasped then, a loud, startled sound. “Charlie?” he called out. “Charlie, is that you?” He pulled away from Keith and headed towards the nearest window. The remaining pieces of glass trembled with every step he took.
“Anderson?” Keith said. But Anderson ignored him. Instead, he talked to his producer and friend.
“Charlie, what are you doing here? Are you all right?” Anderson asked. He reached out a hand toward Charlie, oblivious to the fact that Charlie was not answering him.
“Anderson, no!” Keith yelled. “Rachel! Rachel, get up here, now!”
Rachel came barreling out of the service center door, and skidded on the floor into Keith. She gasped as she saw what Keith did, what Anderson did not.
Behind Charlie were zombies. Ten, scores, hundreds of zombies. And like Rachel’s zombies from yesterday, these zombies moved with purpose: straight towards the sales floor, and the three living people in it.
“Anderson!” Rachel screamed. Anderson turned and looked at her, then turned back towards Charlie. This time, he looked past his friend, and saw the oncoming horde.
“Holy shit!” Anderson cried. “Charlie, come on!” He reached out to pull Charlie along inside. “Charlie?”
Charlie’s mouth dropped open as he snarled, spilling a dark, foul liquid, and tiny pieces of…something. Anderson jerked away, but Charlie was faster. He grabbed Anderson’s arm and yanked, hard. Anderson fell to the floor. Above them, the shards of glass shook dangerously.
“Anderson!” Keith shouted, running to help. “Anderson!”
Charlie bellowed, as Anderson smashed at his legs with the heel of his boot. One leg snapped just above the knee, sending Charlie sprawling to the floor. He fell on top of Anderson, teeth snapping.
Keith grabbed the zombie by the shoulders and yanked, but the zombie sank its fingers into Anderson’s flesh, locking itself in place. Anderson’s face twisted in agony, and he bit back cries of pain. “Keith,” he said.
Rachel took a few steps forward to help, then stopped. She closed her eyes, cupped her hands over her ears, and concentrated. The hostile zombies were very close. Her own, friendly zombies were a few blocks away. Rachel urged them toward the car dealership, pleading with them to move faster. But zombies can only travel so fast.
With help on the way, more or less, Rachel concentrated on the zombies making their way into the building. And felt nothing. Not one little bit. There was no way into their scrambled brains. They were focused on Anderson, and Anderson only.
Fine, Rachel thought. I guess I’ll just have to do this the old-fashioned way. She darted into the back, and scanned the materials and equipment. A bright orange warning sign caught her eye. “Warning,” it read. “Highly flammable. Do not use near open flame.” The label was posted on several aerosol cans.
“Perfect,” Rachel said. She had no idea what they were, but it didn’t matter. She glanced at the desk as she past. Every mechanic she had ever met smoked. And the ones here were no exception. A green disposable lighter sat in plain view. Rachel snatched it up a she went past.
“Hey, you rotting bastards!” Rachel shouted as she re-entered the sales center. Charlie wasn’t the only zombie in the building anymore. Several had fallen through the broken windows. Most were still outside. The ones nearest her position looked up at she yelled. Rachel flipped the cap off one of the cans, pressed the button, and flicked the lighter.
Flames burst into to life, flicking out a good ten feet. One of the zombies startled and fell. It struggled to get up as Rachel approached, homemade flamethrower in hand. She closed on the fallen zombie, and lit it up.
The zombie burned far more quickly than Rachel had expected. A sharp “pop” and a brighter flash made her realize that her fire was setting off pockets of methane trapped inside the shambling corpse. A delighted grin spread across her face as she moved forward.
The zombies came to a standstill, unwilling to advance into the flames. Rachel approached them, and they moved back. Her grin widened as she pressed the button again, and let the flames flow.
&&&
Anderson lay on the floor, Charlie straddling his chest. Keith was still trying to yank the zombie off him, but the way his face was twisted in pain told Anderson that Keith’s back had chosen the worst possible time to act up. Anderson twisted and bucked his hips, try to throw Charlie—no, Zombie Charlie—off of him.
Flames caught his attention, as Rachel lit up the contents of a spray can. “Holy crap,” Anderson said, as Rachel’s victim began to splutter. Moments later, it fell, and struggled to get up. Suddenly, it grabbed for its head and moaned. There was another, louder pop, and then the zombie’s skull burst open, like a faulty pressure-cooker. Rachel continued to press forward into the milling horde.
“Rachel!” Keith shouted. “Get help!” He threw himself at Zombie Charlie, and dragged it with him as he fell. Anderson struggled free. He ran to Rachel, and swiped one of her cans. Fumbling in his pocket, he pulled out a fire starter, and lit his own flamethrower.
The zombies were in full retreat now, fleeing in all directions. Some were in flames, and ignited everything they passed. Anderson felt a terrible grin spread across his own features.
Keith rolled over, and heaved the zombie over his head. Something in his back popped, and Keith screamed in pain. The zombie dropped to the ground a foot or so away from Keith’s head. It reached back, jaws slobbering. Keith took a deep breath and rolled hard into the window frame. The glass above tinkled, and small fragments rained down. Keith rolled again and again, batting the zombie away with his hand. He could feel something wet dribbling onto his hand, and he snatched it away, just before teeth clicked, biting into nothing.
“Keith!” Rachel and Anderson called as they ran towards him. Keith threw himself into the window frame one last time, as hard as he could.
The frame shook, and the deadly remaining shards fell. A shrieking moan that tapered off into a low moan told him that Zombie Charlie had been hit. Keith rolled flat onto his back and heaved a sigh. It was over.
Rachel and Anderson ran to the window, as a huge blade of glass fell, piercing Zombie Charlie through the gooey center. The zombie moaned and writhed, but was pinned to the floor. Anderson ran faster, not noticing that his steps were making the remaining glass vibrate. He threw himself onto his knees beside Keith as another fragment fell.
“No!” Rachel screamed. The glass dropped straight down onto Keith’s face. Rachel gasped and slid to the floor beside Anderson. A long spike of glass had smashed through Keith’s glasses, and embedded itself into his eye. Keith’s face looked surprised, before his features went slack. He was dead.
“No,” Rachel gasped. “No, no, no. Keith,” she said brokenly. “Oh, Keith, no.”
Beside her, Anderson was silent. Rachel sat up and turned to comfort him when she saw it: teeth marks on Anderson’s neck. He looked at Rachel with dead eyes.
“Anderson,” Rachel said. “Andy, honey, it’s me. Please, Anderson. Fight it. You have to fight it.”
Anderson’s face twisted from snarl to horror, and back. Rachel began to back away slowly. All at once, her head exploded with pain. Her zombies had met the retreating zombies, and were catching fire. Rachel could hear them screaming in her head, as they burned, as their skulls overheated and burst from the pressure.
Rachel’s scream brought Anderson back to himself, just for a moment. It was more than enough to see the repulsive scene the zombies had wrought: Rachel moaning in pain on the floor, Keith lying on his back, a glass dagger through his head. Please, God, Anderson begged. Please don’t let me do this. He felt a surge of hunger welling up through him, and he knew he didn’t have long. “Rachel,” Anderson croaked. “Rachel.”
Rachel looked up at him. “Get out of here,” Anderson said. “Please, get out of here as fast as you can.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Rachel insisted. She tried to sit up, and gave a small cry of pain as she jolted her head.
“You have to,” Anderson said. “I won’t be me for much longer.” He stared at Rachel intently, and at last, she broke. She looked away, and huffed out a breath.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“I know,” Anderson replied. “Now get in the minivan.”
Rachel glanced behind her, and saw a minivan on display. She crawled away, as Anderson turned to face Keith. He knelt down and pressed his lips to Keith’s cheek. “See you soon,” he said softly. Then he carefully levered himself to his feet, and threw his entire weight against the window frame.
The force shook loose the last, and largest, hanging shard. Anderson fell flat on the floor, as the glass guillotine crashed down. It fell across Anderson’s neck, severing muscle and bone. Rachel looked up to see the crash. She saw a silvery gray object roll down the slight incline outside the window. Anderson’s face flashed past, as his head rolled away. Rachel had only a glimpse, but she would swear for the rest of her life that Anderson had been smiling.
Rachel wrenched the driver’s door open, and threw herself inside. She sank back against the seat, and waited to feel something. But there were no tears, no angry curses spilling from her lips. She felt tired and empty, and done. She didn’t want to stop Beck anymore. She didn’t want to meet up with Jon and Stephen. She just wanted to sit in the van, and wait for the end to come.
After about ten minutes, Rachel shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She was sitting on something, something sharp and uncomfortable. She reached underneath her, and pulled out a key ring. Out of habit, she put the key into the ignition and turned it. The engine started up easily.
Rachel sat still for a second, trying to get a grip on herself. No one left keys in the display car. No one. That was just a theft waiting to happen.
“Get going,” she said to herself. And in her head, she heard Keith and Anderson telling her the same thing.
She lost it then, and for the next five minutes she hunched over the steering wheel, alternating between giggles and tears so often, she had no idea whether she laughing or weeping. Finally, the emotional storm subsided. Rachel wiped her eyes, put the car in gear, and drove.
Chapter Rating: R, for ultraviolent zombie mayhem, character death
Chapter Summary: In which Rachel, Keith, and Anderson try to steal a car.
Warning: Character Death
Disclaimer: #NotIntendedToBeAFactualStatement
All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Word Count: ~2500
Author's Note: Continued thanks to
themistoklis for beta-reading and constructive suggestions.Keep the tissues handy for this one, folks. This chapter does not end well for our heroes.
Previous chapters
Chapter 25
“Feel better, now?” Keith asked as Anderson hung up with Jon.
“Yes,” Anderson replied. “We know they’re safe, and that at least some of that crew will be meeting up with us.”
“We’d better get going, then,” Rachel said. “We’ve got a car to steal.” She finished stuffing her things into her backpack, and stood up, her prompt to “get the lead out” not being particularly subtle.
“All right, all right,” Keith said. He began to pack up. Anderson was already finished. “Never thought I’d be jealous of your war-torn region camping skills,” Keith said to him.
“Don’t be,” Anderson said. “Let’s get going. The sun’s all the way up, now.”
Cautiously, Keith lifted the safety gate. Rachel looked to the right, and Anderson covered the left. “Nothing,” he reported.
“Zilch,” Rachel said. “This is weird. Really, really weird.”
“Can you call us an escort again?” Anderson asked.
“I could,” Rachel said slowly. “But I’d rather not. I’d hate to draw attention to us.”
“Good point,” Anderson said.
“Will you two hurry up?” Keith said, long legs carrying him halfway across the street already. “Let’s do this before all hell breaks loose.”
Rachel looked at Anderson and shrugged. She took off sprinting after Keith, Anderson not far behind her.
The car dealership was deserted, and most of the inventory looked all right, at first. There was certainly cosmetic damage: shattered windows, cracked windshields, and violent dents in the bodywork. It looked like the result of an extraordinarily violent hailstorm.
Except that hailstorms didn’t tend to wreck the engines. Keith had opened the hoods on three cars, swearing each time. “God damn it!” he shouted after the fourth one. “Fucking dealer didn’t want his inventory stolen, so he took out parts!”
“This is New York,” Rachel said. “It makes sense, when you think about it.”
“But where are the parts?” Keith fumed. “We can’t just walk to Fox. We’d be caught miles away.”
“They’re probably in the office,” Anderson said. “Let’s go look. There are probably keys in there, too. Makes it easier to drive when you have the keys.”
“Can’t you just hotwire it?” Keith said. “Did you learn that over in Syriana?”
“No,” Anderson said. “Charlie did.” He stopped. “Oh, God,” he said softly. “Charlie.”
Rachel stopped behind Anderson, and patted his shoulder. “I’m sure he’s fine,” she said. “Charlie’s a smart guy. And he’s been everywhere with you. If anyone can survive this, it’s Charlie.”
“I suppose,” Anderson said. He still sounded upset, but Rachel let it go. Instead, she grabbed his hand, and pulled him toward the service center.
Keith led the way, scanning for zombies as he went. “All right, this is just wrong,” he said. “Does anyone else think this is a trap?”
“A trap?” Rachel said. “Set by whom? And why?”
“Set by Beck,” Keith said. He grabbed the doorknob and snorted. The door was locked, but the glass inset in the door was gone. Only a few jagged shards remained in the frame. “And who knows why? To capture his competition? To prove that he is now the omnipotent ruler of all?”
“I think you’re giving him too much credit,” Rachel said. “Beck is devious, even clever. But he’s not some evil genius. He’s a power-tripping Constitution freak. He’s beatable.” She stepped around Keith and into the service center. “I have no idea what any of these parts are for.”
“It’s not that hard,” Keith said. “The spares should be in a storeroom in the back. And if this place is any good, the bins will be labeled.”
Anderson’s gaze drifted to the sales floor. “There are cars out here,” he called. “Why can’t we take one from the sales floor?” He opened the door into the customer waiting area.
“How are we going to get it outside?” Keith called. “And don’t go wandering off, Cooper!”
“I’d say the outside is pretty much here, anyway,” Anderson called back. “And I’m not wandering.”
Keith came out from around the service desk at an angry stomp. He walked up to Anderson. “What?” he said.
“Look, most of the display windows are broken.” Anderson pointed to the huge picture windows. Deadly stalactites of glass hung precariously from the window frames. “We can just drive through one of them.”
“And how are we going to get it started?” Keith asked gruffly. “Hotwire it?”
“Sure,” Anderson said. “It can’t be too hard. And it’s not like we’re in a huge hurry. I bet we’ve got time to figure it out.”
“Well,” Keith said. His stomach felt queasy being out in the open like this. There was no cover to speak of on the sales floor, only a little more in the service area. But Anderson did have a point. None of them was enough of a mechanic to swear they could make a disabled car run, or run for long.
Anderson gasped then, a loud, startled sound. “Charlie?” he called out. “Charlie, is that you?” He pulled away from Keith and headed towards the nearest window. The remaining pieces of glass trembled with every step he took.
“Anderson?” Keith said. But Anderson ignored him. Instead, he talked to his producer and friend.
“Charlie, what are you doing here? Are you all right?” Anderson asked. He reached out a hand toward Charlie, oblivious to the fact that Charlie was not answering him.
“Anderson, no!” Keith yelled. “Rachel! Rachel, get up here, now!”
Rachel came barreling out of the service center door, and skidded on the floor into Keith. She gasped as she saw what Keith did, what Anderson did not.
Behind Charlie were zombies. Ten, scores, hundreds of zombies. And like Rachel’s zombies from yesterday, these zombies moved with purpose: straight towards the sales floor, and the three living people in it.
“Anderson!” Rachel screamed. Anderson turned and looked at her, then turned back towards Charlie. This time, he looked past his friend, and saw the oncoming horde.
“Holy shit!” Anderson cried. “Charlie, come on!” He reached out to pull Charlie along inside. “Charlie?”
Charlie’s mouth dropped open as he snarled, spilling a dark, foul liquid, and tiny pieces of…something. Anderson jerked away, but Charlie was faster. He grabbed Anderson’s arm and yanked, hard. Anderson fell to the floor. Above them, the shards of glass shook dangerously.
“Anderson!” Keith shouted, running to help. “Anderson!”
Charlie bellowed, as Anderson smashed at his legs with the heel of his boot. One leg snapped just above the knee, sending Charlie sprawling to the floor. He fell on top of Anderson, teeth snapping.
Keith grabbed the zombie by the shoulders and yanked, but the zombie sank its fingers into Anderson’s flesh, locking itself in place. Anderson’s face twisted in agony, and he bit back cries of pain. “Keith,” he said.
Rachel took a few steps forward to help, then stopped. She closed her eyes, cupped her hands over her ears, and concentrated. The hostile zombies were very close. Her own, friendly zombies were a few blocks away. Rachel urged them toward the car dealership, pleading with them to move faster. But zombies can only travel so fast.
With help on the way, more or less, Rachel concentrated on the zombies making their way into the building. And felt nothing. Not one little bit. There was no way into their scrambled brains. They were focused on Anderson, and Anderson only.
Fine, Rachel thought. I guess I’ll just have to do this the old-fashioned way. She darted into the back, and scanned the materials and equipment. A bright orange warning sign caught her eye. “Warning,” it read. “Highly flammable. Do not use near open flame.” The label was posted on several aerosol cans.
“Perfect,” Rachel said. She had no idea what they were, but it didn’t matter. She glanced at the desk as she past. Every mechanic she had ever met smoked. And the ones here were no exception. A green disposable lighter sat in plain view. Rachel snatched it up a she went past.
“Hey, you rotting bastards!” Rachel shouted as she re-entered the sales center. Charlie wasn’t the only zombie in the building anymore. Several had fallen through the broken windows. Most were still outside. The ones nearest her position looked up at she yelled. Rachel flipped the cap off one of the cans, pressed the button, and flicked the lighter.
Flames burst into to life, flicking out a good ten feet. One of the zombies startled and fell. It struggled to get up as Rachel approached, homemade flamethrower in hand. She closed on the fallen zombie, and lit it up.
The zombie burned far more quickly than Rachel had expected. A sharp “pop” and a brighter flash made her realize that her fire was setting off pockets of methane trapped inside the shambling corpse. A delighted grin spread across her face as she moved forward.
The zombies came to a standstill, unwilling to advance into the flames. Rachel approached them, and they moved back. Her grin widened as she pressed the button again, and let the flames flow.
&&&
Anderson lay on the floor, Charlie straddling his chest. Keith was still trying to yank the zombie off him, but the way his face was twisted in pain told Anderson that Keith’s back had chosen the worst possible time to act up. Anderson twisted and bucked his hips, try to throw Charlie—no, Zombie Charlie—off of him.
Flames caught his attention, as Rachel lit up the contents of a spray can. “Holy crap,” Anderson said, as Rachel’s victim began to splutter. Moments later, it fell, and struggled to get up. Suddenly, it grabbed for its head and moaned. There was another, louder pop, and then the zombie’s skull burst open, like a faulty pressure-cooker. Rachel continued to press forward into the milling horde.
“Rachel!” Keith shouted. “Get help!” He threw himself at Zombie Charlie, and dragged it with him as he fell. Anderson struggled free. He ran to Rachel, and swiped one of her cans. Fumbling in his pocket, he pulled out a fire starter, and lit his own flamethrower.
The zombies were in full retreat now, fleeing in all directions. Some were in flames, and ignited everything they passed. Anderson felt a terrible grin spread across his own features.
Keith rolled over, and heaved the zombie over his head. Something in his back popped, and Keith screamed in pain. The zombie dropped to the ground a foot or so away from Keith’s head. It reached back, jaws slobbering. Keith took a deep breath and rolled hard into the window frame. The glass above tinkled, and small fragments rained down. Keith rolled again and again, batting the zombie away with his hand. He could feel something wet dribbling onto his hand, and he snatched it away, just before teeth clicked, biting into nothing.
“Keith!” Rachel and Anderson called as they ran towards him. Keith threw himself into the window frame one last time, as hard as he could.
The frame shook, and the deadly remaining shards fell. A shrieking moan that tapered off into a low moan told him that Zombie Charlie had been hit. Keith rolled flat onto his back and heaved a sigh. It was over.
Rachel and Anderson ran to the window, as a huge blade of glass fell, piercing Zombie Charlie through the gooey center. The zombie moaned and writhed, but was pinned to the floor. Anderson ran faster, not noticing that his steps were making the remaining glass vibrate. He threw himself onto his knees beside Keith as another fragment fell.
“No!” Rachel screamed. The glass dropped straight down onto Keith’s face. Rachel gasped and slid to the floor beside Anderson. A long spike of glass had smashed through Keith’s glasses, and embedded itself into his eye. Keith’s face looked surprised, before his features went slack. He was dead.
“No,” Rachel gasped. “No, no, no. Keith,” she said brokenly. “Oh, Keith, no.”
Beside her, Anderson was silent. Rachel sat up and turned to comfort him when she saw it: teeth marks on Anderson’s neck. He looked at Rachel with dead eyes.
“Anderson,” Rachel said. “Andy, honey, it’s me. Please, Anderson. Fight it. You have to fight it.”
Anderson’s face twisted from snarl to horror, and back. Rachel began to back away slowly. All at once, her head exploded with pain. Her zombies had met the retreating zombies, and were catching fire. Rachel could hear them screaming in her head, as they burned, as their skulls overheated and burst from the pressure.
Rachel’s scream brought Anderson back to himself, just for a moment. It was more than enough to see the repulsive scene the zombies had wrought: Rachel moaning in pain on the floor, Keith lying on his back, a glass dagger through his head. Please, God, Anderson begged. Please don’t let me do this. He felt a surge of hunger welling up through him, and he knew he didn’t have long. “Rachel,” Anderson croaked. “Rachel.”
Rachel looked up at him. “Get out of here,” Anderson said. “Please, get out of here as fast as you can.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Rachel insisted. She tried to sit up, and gave a small cry of pain as she jolted her head.
“You have to,” Anderson said. “I won’t be me for much longer.” He stared at Rachel intently, and at last, she broke. She looked away, and huffed out a breath.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“I know,” Anderson replied. “Now get in the minivan.”
Rachel glanced behind her, and saw a minivan on display. She crawled away, as Anderson turned to face Keith. He knelt down and pressed his lips to Keith’s cheek. “See you soon,” he said softly. Then he carefully levered himself to his feet, and threw his entire weight against the window frame.
The force shook loose the last, and largest, hanging shard. Anderson fell flat on the floor, as the glass guillotine crashed down. It fell across Anderson’s neck, severing muscle and bone. Rachel looked up to see the crash. She saw a silvery gray object roll down the slight incline outside the window. Anderson’s face flashed past, as his head rolled away. Rachel had only a glimpse, but she would swear for the rest of her life that Anderson had been smiling.
Rachel wrenched the driver’s door open, and threw herself inside. She sank back against the seat, and waited to feel something. But there were no tears, no angry curses spilling from her lips. She felt tired and empty, and done. She didn’t want to stop Beck anymore. She didn’t want to meet up with Jon and Stephen. She just wanted to sit in the van, and wait for the end to come.
After about ten minutes, Rachel shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She was sitting on something, something sharp and uncomfortable. She reached underneath her, and pulled out a key ring. Out of habit, she put the key into the ignition and turned it. The engine started up easily.
Rachel sat still for a second, trying to get a grip on herself. No one left keys in the display car. No one. That was just a theft waiting to happen.
“Get going,” she said to herself. And in her head, she heard Keith and Anderson telling her the same thing.
She lost it then, and for the next five minutes she hunched over the steering wheel, alternating between giggles and tears so often, she had no idea whether she laughing or weeping. Finally, the emotional storm subsided. Rachel wiped her eyes, put the car in gear, and drove.