The suits worked pretty well. Unfortunately, they worked so well, we looked like zombies to other humans. We walked about 10 miles until we saw a house in the distance. Just as we made it out, I felt the splash of something wet against my face. Then I heard the gunshot. I looked over, and Hector was on the ground, shot in the shoulder! The bullet's shockwave tore open a huge amount of tissue, more damage then the bullet did itself. Hector's arm was barely hanging on.
The rest of us ducked, and Kat fell over and out of her wheelchair. A kick of a gravel against my face followed by another gunshot seemed like a mistake by the shooter, something I didn't think was going to happen again, but I didn't want to wait to find out. I went against my instinct to stay down, took off my zombie leather mask and waved my hands around towards the house. I screamed as loud as I could, "WE'RE HUMAN!"
I felt the compressed air against my ear, blowing out my ear drum as the third gunshot's soundwave tried desperately to catch up to the bullet that whizzed by me. I immediately hit the ground and grabbed Dustin's old hunting rifle. I only ever hunted once, not caring for it, but it didn't matter now. My heart was pumping too fast and loud to acknowledge that my left ear was ruptured and in serious pain. The only thing my mind was processing now was to shoot this guy at the house.
I laid in the prone position. I must have looked pretty stupid trying to mimic a sniper, but I didn't care if I wasn't doing it to military standards. I heard a clang off Kat's wheelchair immediately followed by the report and now this asshole was firing on Kat! I looked through the scope and tried to see if I could make anyone out. I couldn't. He must have had a far stronger scope, which meant he had distance on his side. But if he could see us that easily, why the fuck was he firing on us? Couldn't he see we were pushing someone in a god damned wheelchair? Didn't he see me take the mask off and wave my arms about? I doubt he heard me yell. Since things happen here right before the sound of the shot reaches us, I've have to say he's at least 3000 feet away. I'm willing to bet he's just some punk kid who played too many A Call to Zombies games, knows we're human, but just wants to shoot real live targets for once. I had to make a choice. He was a lethal threat and I needed to dispose of it. First, I had to get closer.
Five, six and seven shots later, Jonathan managed to pull Hector off the left side of the highway while I helped Kat up and ran off to the right. Thank God his aim wasn't getting any better. The ringing was beginning in my ear and I was realizing I was going deaf in that ear. I waved at Jonathan to get Hector out into the bushes while I took Kat into the trees. I set her down and took off down the trees towards the house. After I ran for what felt like a thousand feet, I got out of the forest just enough until I could see the house, which rested atop a very small hill. I was answered by an explosion of splinters flying off the tree I was next to, pelting and piercing the right side of my face. I went down not as a result of being shot at, but because it really fucking hurt!
I brought up the rifle again, peering through the scope, and there he was. A man in an orange jacket sitting on the porch, his gun resting on the railing. We fired at the same time, both missing, his shot going over me and mine splintering the slat just to the right of him. He fell off his chair in surprise and ran into the house. I didn't see if he took the rifle in with him, but I didn't see it on the railing, so I assumed he did. I got up and immediately ran towards the house zigging and zagging to make a harder target. I didn't hear any future attempts on my life, so either he didn't have the gun with him, couldn't get a shot, or didn't have any ammo. Any of the three possibilities made me happy.
The house was a brown L-shaped structure with a partial second story. As I finally approached the property, I was expecting to get shot from the window of the second floor. I yelled up at whoever was there to come out now, or I was going to come in and I would shoot them myself. I gave another warning and after no response, I proceeded to the patio and kicked the door in. The hunting rifle was rather cumbersome in close quarters, so I slung it. I was fueled by adrenaline and I felt that any threat I saw in the house, I would be able to pounce on them before they could get another shot off.
BANG! That didn't come from a gun. It came from a frying pan hitting my head. I fell down holding my yet again injured skull (wasn't I supposed to get a helmet?) and it was a woman close to Kat's age and about seven or so months pregnant. She wasn't the one who was shooting at me. He came down the stairs, his rifle trained on me. He had a look on his face that if I so much as sneezed, he would let his gun say "Gesundheit." The fact that he didn't shoot me yet means his desire to kill me somehow dissipated, but he was still certainly threatening.
I held my hands up in surrender, and the pregnant woman bent down and disarmed the rifle off my back. I said again, "We're human! Didn't you see me waving my arms around? Couldn't you make out we were pushing someone in a wheelchair?"
His name was Wallace. He said he saw zombies changing, acting differently. He thought us walking down the street pushing someone in a wheelchair was some kind of trick. His wife's name was Temperance, actually six months pregnant with triplets. I let him know the urgency at hand, that our friend was bleeding to death back on the highway. He made a quick apology and followed me back to where they were.
Hector ended up losing his arm. The damaged done was just too severe to patch up. Temperance had some medical training, but surgery was too far out of her league. Hector's passed out from shock. I had to repress my rage towards Wallace over shooting Hector. He nearly killed me, nearly killed Kat. A part of me wanted him dead. And... a part of me wanted to bite him. Knowing the kind of deadly power I now possessed, it wanted to put it to good... I guess ... evil use.
I just fought it away. He was scared, and he had reason to be. We were wearing leather zombie skin, after all. Even though it seemed quite peculiar for zombies to be pushing someone in a wheelchair, I wasn't going to fault him for thinking they were developing a new tactic. I know the leathers - alphas - are getting smarter. But really? Pushing someone in a wheelchair? What really bothered me about Wallace was him still firing on me after I took the mask off. Again, he thought it was alphas changing into something else, able to shed their skin and look completely human. I guess it did kind of make sense.
And there's Temperance, not only pregnant but pregnant with triplets. These would be their first children. Of course a man is going to be overprotective of that. This also wasn't their house. They were traveling north from Louisiana trying to get to Wisconsin when Temperance started showing signs of stress from the traveling. When they reached the house, they decided to settle.
Wallace began feeling awful about Hector and allowed us to stay at his place until Hector begins feeling good enough to travel. He made it known though, that the house is meant for just the two of them. I said we understood and didn't want to impose any longer than needed. Temperance was even kind enough to make biscuits and gravy for dinner. It was rough having biscuits made without butter or eggs but we ate them as graciously as we could.
I always try to be a man who looks on the bright side. Glass half full. As much as I'm still angry at Wallace, it could have been worse. The bullet could have hit Hector's center of mass and at any spot on his torso, a rifle round with that much velocity could have pulped a vital organ and he would not have made it. Even if we were able to bring him to the house, Temperance would not be able to heal a wound that grave.
Hector's resting comfortably now in the den. He stirred a bit while I was typing, and I went over to him to ask him how he's feeling, and he says like he just had an arm cut off. He tells me he can still feel it. He can feel him moving his elbow and rotating his wrist and wiggling his fingers. Then, he dozed back off to sleep. I've heard of phantom feeling before, and even speaking with someone who's experiencing it, I still have a hard time believing it.
Jonathan was given the TV room to sleep in, and he's made his bed on the upholstered couch. They gave Kat and me the guest room. Temperance looked at Kat's leg and wasn't happy about her being out of the cast so soon. Even light travel wasn't good for a broken leg and ankle that was only a few weeks healed. She had no plaster to make a cast, but she did have a roll of bandages and sticks and did her best to make a cast strong enough to keep the leg and ankle from moving too much. She actually warned Kat that there's a chance her leg will heal crooked, if ever slightly so. I pumped Kat's hand for reassurance.
Yeah, it could have been worse. A LOT worse. Wallace had me dead to rights in his house, and he could have shot me dead. He could have gone out and finished Hector off, then Johnathan, and then Kat. But here we are, making the best of it. Tomorrow will certainly be awkward, but hey, it's a tomorrow that we almost didn't have.
Until tomorrow.
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