The Town of Last Haven: A Zombie Novel

Part 44

Jake and Luke looked onward as they began to hear low-sounding earthy rumbling. Luke's heart raced, and Jake wondered if the zombies could run instead of dragging themselves along--like the way they did in all the movies.

"We're toast, dude." Luke swallowed hard.

"I'm putting myself in danger to protect those I love. It seems like the perfect way to go."

"And then what? Come back to life three days later and declare yourself the zombie King?"

"Please, shut up," Jake sighed, rolling his eyes. There was a paused moment, then Luke paled, Jake watching him. "You know, extraordinary people survive under the most terrible circumstances, and they become more extraordinary because of it. That doesn't make us like gods; that's just something that makes you strong."

Luke's brows knitted into one. "Is that another quote from your dad or someone else?"

Jake let out a half-smirk. "That's a quote from Robertson Davies."

The truck hit a few bumps in the road, and when Jake and Luke looked forward, they saw the horde of zombies running at them--full-on running, fast and deadly. Jake thought only of Natalie, how he would willingly die to protect her; Luke thought of Julia, but not the same way Jake thought of Natalie. Jake's love for Natalie was a true love; Luke's love for Julia was a selfish love.

Jake raised his gun as the trucks began to slow, then stop, and he leaned against the top of the car to steady his firing hands. Luke was right next to him with his pistol ready, but his nerves were making him shake in his snow boots--either that or he was just cold, but who wouldn't be afraid in a damned zombie apocalypse?

"Fire, men! Fire!" Jake and Luke heard the scoutmaster at the head of the line of trucks, bullets blasting from the guns and hitting the running zombies. All Jake thought of was Natalie and her smile; all Luke thought of was being in bed with Julia.

"Forward!" The scoutmaster seemed like one of the Civil War captains from the 1800s, jumping off the hood of the truck and running at the zombies, the other gunmen following his lead with whoops and battle cries--as if they were fighting some Medieval battle.

Jake kicked off from the truck, gun in hand, and fired again and again. He was a skilled gunman, not missing any of his dead and moving targets. "I give you mercy," he said continually to each of the zombies he took down with the single-shot bullets. "I give you mercy."

The firing guns were loud, deafening everyone in sight as the rapid-fire went onward as the living gunmen did. And Jake was gathered into a circle of allies with Luke by his side, his knees still quaking.

"Gather your wits, man!" said the blonde boy from before, now skewering the zombies at point-blank range with a fallen rusted pipe with a split end. It wasn't as efficient as the guns, but it still did the job. That was all that mattered to Jake in the moment.

It all happened in a matter of short seconds.

The zombies were all being shot down, some blown to bits by the guns with the larger bullets and machine guns. Jake didn't know how some of the men acquired these weapons, but anything used to help kill the zombies was good enough.

And then the firing stopped. Luke didn't see any zombies close by, so he lowered his pistol and brass knuckled hand. Jake kept his gun ready to fire, and steam rose like fog up from the snowy ground. It was like a whiteout, and Jake listened for movement.

There was nothing but the ragged breathing of the tired gunmen.

"That was easy--" Before Luke could say another word, a shriek was heard from a female gunman, and the hair on the back of his neck rose in a nanosecond. No one could see clearly due to the white fog, several firing away at everything and nothing. Good men went down with bullet holes in their heads, but Jake went unharmed. His heart was in his throat, he felt like throwing up, and when he saw zombies coming at them from behind them, all attentions turned towards the road.

It was hellish here--gunmen leaving bullet holes in the tires of the cars and trucks, and blood spattered everywhere and stained everything. Jake was covered in blood, but not his own, and thought to himself that if he was to die, his last thought would be of Natalie Brown.

"Jake, look out!" Luke shouted, pushing him to the ground. Jake fell back into the snow, then saw red stain the white. He felt his heart sink--though he didn't care for Luke at all--as he saw one of the zombies bite into Luke's neck. He let out a strangled cry, flesh tearing and blood spurting from his wound, and went down. Jake went to pull the trigger on his gun, but he had no bullets left. Another zombie came close and bit Luke's hand off. He was crying out louder in pain, and Jake ripped the brass knuckles from the zombie with its jaws hooked around Luke's severed hand.

"Bastards!" Jake cursed, bashing his fists into the back of the zombies' heads. When they were down but still writhing, it didn't take much force for Jake to stomp on their skulls to kill the brain activity. Jake remembered once reading somewhere that it only took twenty-five pounds of pressure to break someone's neck, so it didn't take much for him to re-kill the zombies.

"Jake--" Luke mouthed wordlessly, his neck bleeding too much. Jake knelt beside a dying Luke and surveyed the wound. Luke Wallace wouldn't be returning home--not to his mother, and certainly not to Julia Brown. "I need you to tell... Julia...!" He attempted a gasp of word, but he failed. His whispers dead silent, he could only mouth a few words as his eyes glazed over. 

"Name it." The other zombies coming across the road were now dead, and people were forming circles around their injured and dead and dying. No one but Jake was around Luke, though, and it was a sad sight, Jake thought to himself.

"Sorry for being a... s-selfish bastard." Luke's hand went to his throat, now bloody and wet. "Wanted--" There was a pause, then he continued, his eyes staring at the sky and not Jake. "I wanted... more time. Julia... knows the rest." Luke gurgled, then sputtered blood. It was an unbelievable thing what happened next, as it defied all medical knowledge and logic, too. Somehow, by some miracle, Luke was able to say, "Tell my son about me one day. Tell him his dad loved him. Please, Jake. Tell my son about me..." 

"What?" Jake could hardly believe what he was hearing. "Julia's not pregnant. She told Natalie she--"

"Julia lied," said Luke. "Tell my son... about me... Promise me, Jake. Protect your family. Protect Natalie, Austin, Trent, and Clarise... and protect Julia and... my son." Luke's eyes glazed over white, and he was dead.

Jake was in shock--how could Julia have lied for so long about being pregnant? Unless she secretly kept sleeping around with Luke--it suddenly all made sense.

Jake bowed his head, thinking of Natalie's reaction to Julia admitting to being pregnant, then watched as Luke reanimated as one of the dead. Luke reached up towards Jake, but Jake had a knife in his hand from another fallen gunman. And he said, "Luke Wallace, I give you mercy."

And Luke was once gone.