Chapter 5

"Surprised you two didn't attract a horde," Nick said nonchalantly as he and Ellis were cleaning the guns. Ellis blushed a bit and glanced over to Zoey, who was drifting to sleep on the couch. Coach and Rochelle were using sleeping bags upstairs.

"What, you jealous or somethin', Nick?" Ellis sneered, grinning as he polished his rifle.

Nick chuckled. "I like my women to be a bit more… mature. How old is she? Fifteen?"

"You wish… pedophile," Ellis chuckled.

Nick replied with nothing but a smirk.

Although the two did nothing but argue and insult each other, their underlying friendship was apparent.

"Ready for some walkin', y'all?" Coach bellowed as he bounded down the stairs.

"Don't remind me," Nick groaned as he plopped on the couch next to Ellis and Zoey, who were preparing their backpacks.

"Slept good?" Ellis asked.

"Ugh… you should have heard his snoring," Rochelle sighed as she trudged behind Coach, rubbing her eyes.

After she grabbed her pack, she took out the map. "Should only be twenty miles south to Madison. There's a bunch of small towns going west along I-10."

"Let's get a move on." Coach said, pulling his pack to his back and grabbing his gun.

The main road in Valdosta stretched from their safe house into the southern treeline horizon. Nick and Ellis readied their guns as the gap between the twisting oaks and beech groves grew near. All expected to hear the shrieking of approaching infected. But, no, there was not one single note of a bird song.

After a while there was some quiet chatter among the group… mostly Nick badgering Coach about "how the fuck do we know if the army's evacuation plan has been fuckin' cancelled or not?" To this Coach would keep reiterating that all fliers and safe house walls point to New Orleans. Nick would then proceed to sneer each time.

"You know…" Nick huffed, "I bet even if New Orleans is evacuating…those fucker's'll leave us behind again. They're not trying to save people anymore. They assumed they've already entered the gestation period… won't even consider if they're immune."

"Nick, sweety, the army wouldn't do that," Rochelle chimed, patting his shoulder lightly. "They've got to keep checking the evacuation centers anyway. They should know that people will travel there more so than anywhere else."

Nick grunted as he slung his shotgun over his shoulder.

After a minute of silence, Ellis added, "I think I remember readin' that the evacuation center's in the Kistachie forest."

"They want the camps as far away from the city hubs as possible, so out in a forest is ideal," Rochelle explained. "There's not likely to be infected away from the populated areas."

They began running into groups of infected shortly before they passed the "Welcome to Madison, Florida" sign. The area was still pretty heavily forested on either side of the road.

Rochelle leaned against the sign as she reloaded her rifle. "Madison is just north of Interstate 10. We can start heading west tomorrow."

"You doin' okay, Ellis?" Zoey asked. "We've been walking all day."

"Yeah, I'ma be alright. Gashes on my stomach healed up pretty good last week." Ellis stopped and held up his rifle, picking off a few stragglers in the distance.

"Wait guys…" Rochelle held her hand up as she stood her ground. "Hear that?"

"Fucking smoker…" Nick said cautiously as he wielded his shotgun.

Everyone had their guns at the ready, turning warily at each small cough in the distance. Suddenly, a shrill rasp filled the air and a mauve, slimy tongue dragged Coach into some brush. Responding to Coach's yells, Ellis and Zoey fired at the origin of the tongue, hidden in greenery. The characteristic "puff" of smoke in the distance confirmed the kill, but was followed by gurgling and more screaming.

"Boomer!" Coach bellowed as he took out his pistol. The boomer exploded, showering him in green, putrid bile.

The shrill screams of an incoming horde then filled the air.

"Come on, get up!" Rochelle said, as he helped Coach to his feet.

They regrouped near an abandoned van in the middle of the road. Gunfire tore through the surrounding infected, the creatures encasing the group closer and closer to the vehicle.

"There's a fuckin' jockey around here!" Nick yelled as he bashed a zombie's head in. Suddenly a jockey leapt out of the oak behind him and lurched back, tearing at his neck.

"Get this damn jockey off'a me!" Nick hollered as the two smashed into the driver's door and the jockey jerked back once more, shattering the window… and starting the van alarm. Ellis took out his axe and jammed it into the its grotesque spine, freeing Nick.

"Fuck we gotta get out of here, now!" Ellis urged, as he pointed to a gas station about half a mile up the road.

The group began hustling towards the building, screaming as they blasted, hacked, and charged through countless infected. Zoey nearly stumbled as she began reloading her rifle.

Ellis kicked open the door to the building and drove his axe into the torso of the infected cashier. "In the back here!" He called as she shoved open the store room door.

Coach was the last inside and slammed the door as hard as he could, pushing back against the infected. "Get a damn barricade!"

Ellis pushed a two-by-four against the door and secured it with the largest used construction nails he could find. Zoey and Rochelle pushed a heavy duty shelf in front to finish it off.

Coach huffed as he leaned against the wall, "Good job everyone. Made it here in one piece."

"Barely." Nick coughed as he wiped blood off of his chin.

The pounding on the door from the infected, the shrieks, the wails, and the various clamor ground to a halt within an hour, allowing the group to settle down for the night.

"I'm so glad your wounds are healing well, Ellis," Zoey cooed as she inspected his trunk. The lacerations were closing up well, held tightly by the stitches. "Do they still hurt?"

"Oh it's nothin'. It's only a little bit uncomfortable." Ellis chuckled. He leaned into her ear, whispering, "I just wanna make sure you're alright, Zo," followed by a brief kiss on her temple.

Zoey's eyes softened as he held her close, followed by a kiss on her forehead. They settled against a few sacks of rice in the corner, both drifting to sleep.

Unfortunately, for Zoey, the next few weeks seemed like a surreal, muddled blur of reality and dreams. Each day was a grueling, filthy, and painful repeat of the last. Into each small towns between thick, vast swampy forestland. Fighting infected from stragglers to hordes to tanks to spitters. Scratches, bites, acid burns, bashed ribs, and aching muscles each day. The wounds seemed to be burrowing in Zoey's mind.

Well, it was happening to everyone. The same shit every day. Monotony stacked on top of misery with a double dose of killing and lopping off of zombie parts.

And then there was Nick who had long entered the nicotine withdrawl stage.

"Well maybe I can find your precious Keith, slice his balls off, then shove 'em down his own throat," Nick snarled as he clocked a mid-air hunter with the butt end of his shotgun.

"Y'know, Nick, I'm gettin' pretty sick of your shit talk about Keith," Ellis shouted as he shoved Nick, totally ignoring the nearby infected approaching.

It broke Zoey's heart to see the two boys so stressed and angry. She fought back tears as she focused on her rifle sight.

"Well I'm fucking done with you telling us some stupid fuck story about how you and Keith used to pound each other's asses after playing some Georgia hick game!"

"Can you guys please kiss and make up so we can… oh I don't know… maybe MAKE IT OUT OF HERE ALIVE?!" Rochelle hollered angrily.

A deafening roar filled the air as the ground began to rumble.

"TANK! TANK! Two o'clock!" Coach bellowed as he lit a molotov. "Gotta slow this mother down!" he shouted as he lobbed the flaming bottle towards the beast.

The bottle broke upon impact with the Tank's leathery skin, the fire draping down its chest. The enraged tank roared again as he tore a path to Coach.

It ripped straight though trees, hurling them at the survivors, who were unloading all the firepower they had on the monster.

Zoey was running on pure adrenaline. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears along with the defeaning shots of her rifle. The searing tank looked like it was moving in slow motion, jumping and skipping frames, distorted by her tears. It unrooted the largest water oak it could muster, then chucked it at Zoey, who, despite the adrenaline, couldn't react in time.

With one final wail, the tank crashed into the earth, scorching the soil around it.