A L A
I glanced over my shoulder and shot my sister a quick grin. "Good work! You smelled that sucker a mile away!"
"Keep your eyes on the road!" Sancha's Iron Man mask was digging into my back. Her arms were wrapped around my waist in a vise grip. She flinched against each bump in the road. "You'll kill us both!"
"You're so cute when you're grumpy!" I laughed, turning back to the path. My hair flailed behind my helmet, and the road flew past. My blood pulsed faster and faster until I felt I could ride straight into the sky.
A small Walker pounced from the bushes, landing on the windscreen. My entire body jumped, reflexively yanking the handlebars. The bike went wild, jerking from side to side.
"TREE!" Sancha screamed, hugging my waist with her arms and legs.
The Walker hissed, lashing out with its blunt, ragged nails. It started to crawl up, but its leg brushed against the wheel. The rubber shredded its dead skin. It screeched, bashing its head against the glass.
I screeched back, swerving the bike into a tree. The Walker's lower half snapped, pinned between the bike and the tree. The impact flung me into the air with Sancha still attached my back.
I felt her weight shift. She clasped her little hands over my stomach. "Hang onto your teeth!"
"WH—?!"
She threw her weight, spinning us in midair and forcing us upright. The motorcycle helmet rattled on my skull.
Pavement crumbled beneath her feet when we hit the ground. My teeth snapped off the tip of my tongue.
She opened her arms, and I staggered onto solid ground. "Owww?"
"I told you to keep your eyes on the road."
I yanked the helmet off my head and slapped my hand over my mouth, "Owww?!"
"Stop being a baby."
"Uh-uh." Hot blood slipped between my fingers. "Owww..."
Sancha sighed, crossing her arms. She glanced over at our newly-broken bike. "It's still alive."
"Wha?! A'ive?! Gah!" My new gun was in my hands before my next heartbeat. Bullets slammed into the youngling Walker's head, tossing it from side to side.
"Hey. HEY."
I shrug her hand away, determined to blow every remaining piece of flesh attached to the Walker's neck. She grabbed my arm, yanking it up. Lead spewed into the sky.
"That's enough. Just stop."
"S-Sacha." I let her pry the gun from my trembling hand. "M-my togue..."
"Lemme see. Open your mouth."
"Aaah."
"There's a lot of blood. Spit it out."
I spat, whimpering as sparks of pain ran though my tongue.
"You only bit off a small chunk. Where'd it go? In your cheek?"
"Ah ay ih."
"What?"
"Ah AY IH."
"You ate it?"
I nodded.
"Moron. Here, lemme stick this in your mouth." She tore off a small strip of red bandanna and stuffed it in my mouth before I could protest.
My eyes creased. "Where you gettis?"
She turned away, scratching her head. "... Let's see if we can salvage the bike."
My little sister picked up the motorcycle like it was made of styrofoam. There was no recovering the windscreen. A large spiderweb crack ran through the glass surface. The wheelguard was like a crumpled aluminum sheet. But the rest was intact, and it still run when I tested the engine.
Well, that just totally ruined my day, I tried to say. What came out was, "Ow ow ow."
"You'll be fine," sighed Sancha. "Let's just get outta here."
A Walker hissed behind me. I swung my gun toward the sound, the trigger clicking under my finger. I roared, forgetting my tongue as I slapped my hand against its side. "JAMMED! FU—!"
It leaped claw-first, ready to latch onto my body. Two more jumped from the trees, eyes locked on Sancha.
The Iron Man mask flashed in the sun. Metal crumpled beneath her hands. Sancha swung the motorcycle in a circle, smacking all three Walkers out of the sky.
"Don't worry about them," she grunted, bending her knees and lifting the bike like it was a baseball bat. "I'll protect us."
Squirming back to its hands and feet, one of the youngling Walkers launched themselves at the motorcycle. Sancha swung it from side to side, trying to shake it off. It crouched, clinging to the seat before pouncing on top of her, digging its teeth into her head.
YOU ARE READING
Heart Hunters
Science FictionTwenty-five years after the cure was created, society has yet to fully recover from the zombie apocalypse. The Cure is smuggled, bootlegged, hoarded, or hidden away - it has eclipsed the barter system. Though most of the United Mexican States have b...