Donners of the Dead

CHAPTER 11

Isaac was going to eat me alive.

"Eve, don't move!" Jake yelled, as if I could.

There was a thunk and suddenly Isaac lurched to the side, sputtering blood from his mouth which sprayed all over me. He didn't fall over, and the grip on my neck barely loosened but it was enough for me to rip myself away from him. I scrambled out of his reach just as Jake pulled me up.

Isaac was moaning like a crazed animal, blood pouring from the back of his head. It was then that I noticed Jake hadn't shot him—he'd thrown his gun at him instead.

I looked at him, openmouthed.

He gave me a grim smile. "No time to reload."

He then went for the gun that was lying beside Isaac but Isaac wasn't as hurt as he seemed. No, of course he wasn't. Not with Tim's flesh rolling through his system, putrefying his veins.

He sprang up and jumped on Jake. I never would have believed that skinny Isaac would be able to overtake such a muscular beast as Jake, but he did. They both fell to the floor, Jake's mass shaking the cabin. He tried his best to fight off Isaac, and I remained frozen in place, trying to figure out what to do. If I tried to pull Isaac off of him, he'd only bat me away like a pesky fly.

I spun around and ran to the rifle I dropped early and picked it up, ever so wary of it accidently going off. I stepped right up to Isaac and aimed it at the back of his head. But at this range, with Jake's own head right underneath his, his face growing red with strain as he tried to keep Isaac back, I'd kill both of them. Or I'd at least kill Jake.

I looked around and spied the axe resting against the wall near the fire. I gently but quickly placed the rifle on the ground, far away from Isaac and Jake, and ran over to the axe. It was heavy and cold and hard to wield between my two hands, but I had to try and make do with it.

I scampered back over to them, trying to raise the axe above my head, my eyes glued to the back of Isaac's neck, which was now coated in a stream of sticky blood. This seemed impossible but there was no time to be realistic here. Realism would kill us all.

"Jake don't move!" I yelled, my arms shaking, my wrists burning.

He grunted something in response but I was already in motion. I brought the axe down, feeling gravity take the weight the rest of the way, and somehow the sharp blade connected with Isaac's neck. The sound was sick and thudding, like the way Uncle Pat used to slice through hardened meat.

Isaac roared and tried to get up but his movement merely put the blade in further. There was a crunch as it cut through the spine and then the roaring stopped. I let go of the axe in horror at what I had done and it stayed put, lodged deep inside. Not deep enough to slice his head clean off, but deep enough nonetheless.

"Grab the rifle and run to the horses," Jake said to me as Isaac collapsed on top of him in a mess of blood and fluid.

I did as he asked, hearing the thump of Isaac and the thump of his decapitated head as Jake finished the job. He joined me moments later. With Sadie and Isaac's horse gone from yesterday, there was only Jake, Tim and Hank's horses. As much as I hated Hank and still feared him, I couldn't leave his horse out here in the mountains.

I quickly attached him to Tim's horse and started throwing the packs onto his back. Tim had pretty much finished the job of packing everything up. He must have gone back inside to get a few more things when he found Isaac inside, plotting his demise. As duplicitous as Tim had turned out to be, I had a soft spot for the charming old man and wished he hadn't died in what must have been the most horrific way possible.