The Days Are Tired (Book #1 of the Dark Skies series) - A Zombie story

Chapter 44: Reckoning (End)

"Get up!"

My body was shaken, and I immediately sat up, swatting away the cover of the sleeping bag. I was hot, clammy, and drenched in sweat. A disheveled-looking Will held me by my shoulders, shaking me like a rag doll.

"What are you doing? What's going on -"

A long, drawn-out screech interrupted my words. It sounded like some prehistoric pterodactyl had come to life. I felt my lip curl.

"Reds? Are they inside?" I asked. At Will's silent nod, I immediately stood. I'd slept in my clothes and shoes, not letting the sense of safety keep me from being cautious. Now I knew I'd made the right move. "How? Did they get through the gate?" I asked, quieter.

"Don't know. All I know is they're inside and people are dying as we speak." Will's eye ticked, and he took me by the hand, squeezing. "We're going to make a run for it. Yesterday I saw that the fence behind the rations tent had a gate. It's closer and presumably safer than trying to make it to the entrance we came through yesterday."

I could tell that the people running the Compound knew what they were doing. The tall chain-link fence had guards and soldiers protecting it. How had the Reds infiltrated it?

Worse yet, the fence meant to keep Reds out was now keeping us in. The people unable to run would be stuck like sardines in a can.

The pale light of early morning filtered in from the part of the tent that didn't quite reach the ground, along with the flickering shadows of passing feet as people ran for their lives.

Leo was no longer lying on the cot. He stood near the tent's entrance with the help of his sister and Beth. Sofia carried a bag likely filled with the supplies Johnson had given us yesterday. Fatigue visibly oozed into their bones, making them slouch under its weight. Their faces were etched in weariness and resolve.

We had to run... again.

We were tired of running.

Screams became more prevalent by the second, always followed by sobbing and slurping, as whatever poor soul became some crazed person's meal. I shook off the lingering sleep, preparing myself for the battle I knew was coming.

Weaponless, we stepped out of the tent. Will and I took the lead.

The heat of the outside seemed to sizzle my skin with its intensity. It felt like we had entered inside of a broiling oven. Smoke flooded the air, stirring flashbacks of the burning barn. Clusters of tents had been knocked down into campfires, their polyester and nylon fabric set ablaze, bleeding a thick orange.

A stampede of people ran in all directions. They clawed and tripped over each other in an attempt to outrun the Reds that followed after them. Reds young and old moved among the healthy, attacking and spreading the virus. They chased their prey with wide feverish eyes and gory smiles that happily chewed on torn bits of flesh.

Some of them ran upright while others crawled around like scurrying spiders. Their heads popped and their bones cracked unnaturally, like they were trying to come out of their skin.

Armed soldiers stood their ground among the fleeing, letting rounds rip through the crazed. They yelled out orders, trying their best to break through the chaos. The soldiers never backed down. Even when some of their companions were tackled, they never lost their fighting spirit.

At first, it seemed like the soldiers were managing to push back against the ranks of the infected. Then their fallen comrades started getting to their feet, jerkily standing like puppets pulled by strings, rejoining the fight...but this time, they were no longer on their side.