Free Grace Lost by M. Lauryl Lewis

last
indefinitely.  There was talk of finding other survivors. There was talk
of the coming cold season and how it would hit us soon in the mountains. 
Before long the pain pill started working and I fell into a fitful
sleep.   My dreams were filled with the living dead and of Boggs
walking away from me, leaving me alone in the world.
    When I woke next, the fire had
died and the room was cold.  Gus and Boggs both slept in the camp
chairs.  I crept from my bed and tiptoed around them, intent on lighting
the fire.  The wind howled outside, whipping against the sides of our little
abode.  I could hear the camp shower knocking against the metal
roof.  As I crumpled some newspaper to rekindle the flames in the stove, a
tree crashed in the distance.  Faintly at first, a new sound mingled with
the storm. As I struck a match, the moans became clear.  Ice traveled up
my spine.  The match fell from my hand, lighting the newspaper by
chance.  A howl not matching any beast that belonged in the woods was
followed by a scream.
    Gus was closest to me, so I shook
his shoulder.  “Gus! Gus!”  I whispered as loudly as I dared.
    The cowboy startled awake,
instantly alert.  He stood and grabbed his shotgun.  Boggs stirred
awake from the commotion.  The wind lulled and the screams grew closer.
    “They sound human.  The screams.   They sound human.”  There was
urgency in my voice.
    Moans from the dead intertwined
with the wind.  There was a loud thump against the door followed by
the pounding of fists.
    “Help me!  Please, help me!”
pleaded a woman’s shaky and terrified voice.  The knob shook with her
attempts to enter.  “Please, God, let me in!” she begged.  Her
pleading changed to sobbing as the moaning drew near.
    I started to rush to the door, but
Gus held me back, twisting my arm painfully.  I cried out and Boggs cocked
his arm back, landing a blow on Gus’ cheek.  Gus stumbled backward,
releasing my arm.  I took the opportunity to rush to the door and unlock
it.  I couldn’t bear to let another person perish if we could help
them.  The door gave way and a young woman fell inward.  The dead
were close behind, excited by the new discovery of more food.
    “Boggs!” I screamed.  The girl lay flat on her back with her
legs still outside, making it impossible to shut the door.  He and Gus
both ran to her.  They each grabbed an arm and dragged her inside.  I
slammed the door as the first of the creatures reached the shack.  I
struggled with the lock as the monsters pushed back against me.  A
decaying hand forced its way between the jamb and the door and the howls of the
dead grew riotous.  The men both rushed to my aid, throwing their weight
against the door. Gus brought the butt of his shotgun down on the hand,
severing shredded tendons and ligaments until it fell free from the arm. 
The door slammed shut with the sudden release, and I twisted the deadbolt to the
locked position.
    The girl cried hysterically. 
Her face was a mess of mud, rain, tears, and a splattering of blood and
freckles.  She had short messy red hair and wasn’t much taller than
myself.  I thought she couldn’t have been older than eighteen.  I
went to her and wrapped my arms around her shaking body, for her comfort as
well as my own.  We sat there facing the door together, watching as dust
and cob webs fell from the rafters as the horrors outside beat against the
building attempting to gain entry.  Gus had positioned his shotgun in one
of the small holes and fired.  The hellish moans of the rotting corpses
got louder.  Boggs took a stand at the other opening in the wall, firing
his pistol blindly into the night.  Shot after shot rang out until finally
the moans and screams of the creatures ceased.  Everyone fought to catch
their breath as the rain fell steadily, beating against the roof. The girl
clutched at my arms, her sobs increasing as she moaned in emotional agony.
    “They got Joey…they got Joey…oh