Free This Shattered Land - 02 by James Cook Page A

of our conversation must have attracted
them. For some reason, the dead act differently at night than they do during
the day. After sunset, they won’t start moaning until they are almost right on
top of you. During the day, just about anything will set them off no matter how
far away it is. Maybe it’s a sight thing, or maybe they have some kind of
nocturnal hunting instinct. I’m not sure. I just know it is one of the many
factors that make the undead a hell of a lot more dangerous at night than
during the day.
    I
got to my feet with a grumbling curse. The three cups of whiskey in my belly
made me sway a bit as I drew my pistol. A quick glance behind me told me that I
was the only one who had drawn a firearm.
    “Faaaaannntastic.
Don’t suppose you folks got any weapons, do you?” I said.
    Sarah,
forward thinking lady that she is, leaned down and drew a little snub-nosed
revolver from a holster on her ankle. I didn’t even know she had that.
    “Gabe,
Tom, get between us.” She said, pointing her weapon toward the moans growing
steadily louder on her side.
    “Like
hell.” Gabe rumbled. He stomped over to the woodpile nearby and came back with
a splitting maul in his fists. The big half-axe, half-sledgehammer tool would
have been too heavy for most people to use as an effective weapon, but Gabe was
not most people. He took a fighting stance next to Sarah and drew a
disapproving frown from her.
    “Make
sure you stay behind my line of fire.” She said. Gabe grunted.
    Tom,
not having anything on him to use as a weapon, settled for a thick chunk of
hickory from beside the fire. I shook my head at him.
    “Tom,
stay behind me, and stay close.” I said. “Anything gets around me, you bash its
fucking head in, got it?”
    He
glanced at me and nodded. I didn’t really need him to watch my back, especially
considering that the stupid chunk of wood he held wasn’t going to help him
against the dead, but I figured encouraging him might keep him from getting
panicked, not to mention spare his ego. The four of us started moving slowly
back toward the gate, the moans of the dead growing louder and closer. Looking
over my shoulder, I could just make out the galvanized steel bars of the fence
reflecting light from the fire. Funny thing—during the day the gate sometimes
looked dangerously close to the cliff. Right about then, with the ghouls
nipping at my heels, it seemed impossibly far away.
    The
moans kept growing louder until a single revenant walked into view. He must
have circumnavigated the fence to reach us. The fiber optic sights reflected
the firelight as I drew a bead on its forehead and squeezed the trigger. The
round went through its skull and kept on trucking out the other side. The
creature shuddered, stiffened up, and tumbled sideways down the side of the
mountain. Another ghoul walked out of the darkness behind it. It was once a
tall, heavyset man. Nearly half of its face was missing, and I could see gray
and black bone protruding through its ruined flesh. Its shoes had long since torn
apart and yellowish strips of entrails dangled from its waist all the way to
the ground. Two more trigger pulls ventilated its decrepit skull. The walker
swayed in place for a moment before doing a face plant into the dirt, a putrid
ring of body fluid spraying out in a black halo as it slapped the ground. Two
shots rang out behind me. Sarah cursed, and then fired again. I risked a glance
over my shoulder. Two ghouls were down in front of her, one of her shots must
have had gone wide.
    “How
many bullets you got left?” I asked.
    “Three.”
    She
fired again.
    “Make
that two.”
    “Use
‘em, then get behind me.” Gabe said, adjusting his grip on the maul.
    I
dropped a few more walkers that got too close and heard Sarah use her last two
rounds.
    “I’m
out.” She said, falling back.
    “Alright,
give me room to swing.” Gabe said.
    I
moved as quickly as I dared toward the fence with Tom and Sarah in tow. Only a
few