Death After Death (#2)

Chapter Seventeen

"Where do you think they're going?" Karl gawped.   

Dawson followed the trail of stumbling corpses, eventually pointing out the first few gentle plumes of smoke, rising over distant rooftops, "I think that's a good bet."

"Do you think it's them?" Karl asked excitedly.

"Do you think we could get to them even if it was?" Dawson responded.

Karl opened his mouth to argue, but there was no logical argument. There was no way they could fight their way through this many undead, without any guarantee of Max and JJ being at the end. It was like following a rainbow for that elusive pot of gold, only with flesh eating clickers along the way.

"I want to see!" George demanded, extending his neck and desperately teetering on tip-toes to get a glimpse.

Hundreds of undead were marching throughout the streets past the little house in which they took shelter. Clickers of all shapes and sizes, tall, short, men, women children, pensioners, just a completely diverse army moving towards one clear goal.

Whoever or whatever was at the finish line didn't stand a chance.

Dawson peered outside again, then at George, then Rodney before she shook her head.

"Why don't we go find some more stones, ay George?" Rodney suggested.

"No, bored of that!"

"We could...throw them at something?"

This peeked Georges interest slightly, "Like what?"

Rodney was out of ideas, "...other stones?"

George pondered this idea for a few seconds before clearly deciding it was worth his time and energy, "Okay!"

"And this was meant to be the smartest generation ever," Rodney sighed, before trapesing after his young friend.

Dawson looked on with a hint of pride, Rodney had never had a great rapport with children, even back at the foster home. His job had mainly been to home tutor those who needed it, he was an intellectual, not a man to flitter away his time with menial nonsense or pointless fun. But here he was, trying his best.

"What now then," Karl asked, his eyes begging for some kind of plan involving JJ's rescue.

"We make our way to The Pit I guess," Dawson replied, without her usual authoritative demeanour. She wished there was a scenario in which they could go looking for their friends, but one simply didn't exist, especially with George in the fray now.

"Okay," Karl grumbled, turning around to go pack his bag.

Dawson extended a hand and clamped in down on his shoulder, turning his body back to face her, "I'm sorry Karl, I wish there was another way, I really do."

"I know, Daws," he smiled genuinely.

"We'll see them again, just you wait. They'll be standing at the pit when we arrive, tapping their imaginary watches, and asking what took us so long."

Karl smiled at this, "I hope you're right."

"I always am."

The slightly sombre mood was immediately erased as a chorus of giggles erupted from the far side of the room.

"I did it!" George cried.

Sometimes, something natural and wonderful, something simple, like a child's laughter can completely change a person's perspective. Maybe the world wasn't as hopeless as it seemed.

Dawson glanced out the window to make sure that George hadn't attracted any unwanted attention, but the last trickle of clickers had their eyes firmly fixed on the commotion in the distance.

It was time for them to finally find Han, she just prayed that Max and JJ would be there too.