Survival

Angela was sitting behind the wheel of the patrol car, doing her favorite thing—drinking coffee with donuts. Patrolling the quiet town of New Hope was a boring and monotonous affair. Drive around your district a couple of times, respond to calls if there were any, and drink coffee with donuts. Angie was just finishing the coffee in her plastic cup when someone started banging on her window, causing her to almost spill coffee on her uniform. Outside the car window was a disheveled young girl. Angie got out of the car.

"Save me, help, officer, he's crawling after me, it's a monster. Aaaah—"

the blonde shrieked hysterically and grabbed onto Angie. The blonde

was dressed in tight shorts and a thin tank top, clearly without a bra. With a practiced motion, Angie twisted the blonde's arm and bent her over, pinning her against the car with her body.

"What the hell, bitch, are you high? Calm the fuck down, or I'll lock you up for the whole night—"

Angie looked the girl over. She seemed sober, either genuinely frightened by something or someone.

"Who attacked you and where? Was it sexual assault, physical assault—"

She tried to speak in a loud, clear voice.

"Nooo—"

The blonde's voice trembled, on the verge of breaking into a roar.

"He followed me—"

"Sit and don't you dare move a muscle. You'll even pee only with my permission, got it?" The blonde nodded in agreement, and Angie closed the door. Angie was rough with the girl, but she was hysterical, and coddling her would only make it worse.

"The girl doesn't look doped up. Just another college sheep. Probably some jerk scared this idiot by dressing in a Halloween costume and is now filming it. Well, I'll teach this Spielberg a lesson now,"

thought Angie, looking toward the park. And then, against the dimly glowing streetlights, a figure appeared, dragging itself along.

"Well, it's clear. A typical bum who overdid it with the booze and scared the silly girl. I'll take him to the station now."

Angie headed toward the barely shuffling figure, which was making strange sounds. The girl had weapons with her: a pistol, a baton, and pepper spray. She also had several zip ties to use as handcuffs. In her hands was a powerful police flashlight, which could double as a weapon if needed. She directed the bright beam at the person and ordered,

"New Hope Police Department. I order you to stop and not resist arrest, or special measures will be used against you."

In the flashlight beam, the figure looked terrible. Its clothes were stained with dark grime, and it was shuffling toward her.

"Definitely drunk and feeling invincible."

With a practiced motion, she took the pepper spray canister from her belt, removed the cap, and pressed it for a couple of seconds, holding her breath. The stream of pepper spray shot toward the vagrant but had no effect. Angie pressed and emptied the entire canister, then stepped back to avoid the spray cloud. The bum just slowly walked through it and continued toward her.

"What's wrong with him? Is he on acid or something?"

She thought and took the baton from her belt, attempting to strike the bum. Then he growled with an inhuman voice and lunged at Angie, knocking her to the ground. He tried to pounce and bite. Angie found herself underneath him, seeing his terrible eyes, a ragged wound on his neck, and smelling a horrific stench. Hitting him with the baton and pushing him away with her foot, Angie scrambled back on all fours, dropped the baton, and began drawing her pistol from its holster.

"Don't move, I will shoot!"

Her voice trembled, and hysteria was rising. She had decent scores at the shooting range, but she had never shot at a person. The creature got up and moved toward her, growling like a beast.

B-aam, B-aaam—

A couple of shots rang out in the park, and holes appeared in the creature's chest. The creature itself jerked but kept coming. Angela fired a few more shots, but they didn't seem to cause much harm; it only jerked with each hit. But when one bullet hit its forehead, the creature jerked and fell to the ground. Angie was afraid to even approach the carcass. She quickly got into the car, where the blonde was wailing in fear. Angie herself was ready to panic but understood that if she did, neither of them would be of any use. She opened the partition separating the back seat from the front, grabbed the blonde by the hair, yanked her forward, and looking at her angrily, began venting her rage and terror on the poor girl.

"Alright, shut up fast, you stupid bitch, and keep your ass in place. If you squeak without permission, I'll strip off all your clothes, including your panties, and send you walking through the park with a bare ass. Do you understand me?"

The blonde looked at her with fear but stopped screaming and silently shook her head. The car began to be surrounded by slowly shuffling creatures. Some of them looked quite alive. One of the zombies had its stomach torn open, and its spilled intestines dragged behind it. Angie turned on the siren full blast and activated the flashing lights, quickly started the engine, and hit the gas. The car moved off, pushing aside figures in the night. One of the monsters ended up on the hood and fell in front of the car, went under the wheel, and the car jerked noticeably. Angie turned on the radio, and immediately cries for help and calls for reinforcements came through; gunfire could be heard over the air. She hurried to turn it off; it didn't add to her optimism. The blonde lay curled up in a ball in the corner, whimpering quietly.

"I hope she hasn't lost her mind from fright,"

thought Angie, and added out loud,

"Hey, princess, maybe we should get acquainted? My name is Angela."

She looked at the blonde in the rearview mirror.

"Mmmmo...nica,"

the blonde stammered in reply.

"Okay, Monica. I don't know what's happening, but for now, you're better off with me. Here, have something to eat."

Angie shoved the opened pack of donuts at Monica, and the girl began chewing on one. The girl didn't look the most cheerful, but at least she was human, not a monster. Driving along the road, they saw an overturned car and several monsters milling around it, trying to get something out. Near the car lay what seemed to be its former driver, torn to pieces. One, apparently the smartest, was hitting the window with a stick, trying to break it. Suddenly, a girl's face appeared in one window, and the car turned, knocking down several zombies. Angie stopped the car, jumped out with her pistol ready, and began shooting at the zombies' heads, causing them to fall and stop moving. She ran to the door and tried to open it, but it seemed jammed. Angela took the stick from a dead zombie's hands and hit the window several times until it shattered.

"Climb through the window, I'll cover you!" she shouted.

A slender girl climbed out of the car, quickly ran to the patrol car, and sat next to Monica. More zombies emerged from nearby bushes, but Angie didn't stop to shoot them. She jumped into the car and stomped on the gas. The car screeched away from the spot. The approaching zombies began feeding on their recently killed comrades.

The girl sat next to Monica and didn't look as frightened as Monica did.

"What's your name, dear?"

Angie tried to smile at the girl, but she wasn't in the mood for cheer.

"Chloe,"

the girl said quietly. Her voice trembled slightly, but she wasn't about to have a hysterical fit.

Angie looked at the pistol lying on the passenger seat. She had already used a couple of magazines; the one in the pistol was the last. In the car's glove compartment was a box of ammunition.

"Monica, I need a couple of loaded magazines. Can you load them?"

Angie looked at Moni, who was chewing a donut and looked so helpless.

"What? Load bullets? I don't know how, I'll try,"

Moni babbled, batting her eyelashes.

"Excuse me, ma'am,"

Chloe spoke in a more confident tone.

"Moni seems to be in such a state right now that she couldn't change a pad in her panties, let alone load bullets. Let me do it."

Angie was surprised by the girl's confident statement but decided that Moni

really wasn't much use and handed the empty magazines and bullets to Chloe, who confidently began loading them. At the city exit, Angie saw an amazing sight. On the side of the road stood a structure made of tires, sandbags, and concrete blocks, behind which were wheeled construction trailers with a construction company's advertisement visible on them. Here and there were farm pickups, and in them or next to them were people in hunting camouflage jackets and wide-brimmed hats. The road was blocked by a tractor with a trailer. Angie stopped near the trailer, and one of the farmers approached. He was a colorful character—in a cowboy hat and tactical vest with rifle magazines, a radio, and a Rambo-style knife, and he had a magnificent beard. He approached from the driver's side.

"Arizona Self-Defense. And you look like our valiant police. Well, at least you're good for something. They say your lot took out many of the walkers before getting eaten themselves. Haaa—"

He laughed heartily at his own joke and stroked his beard. The people seemed to be in good spirits. Away from the checkpoint, a large pile was burning, in which the remains of walkers could be discerned. On a large advertising banner, a hanged walker dangled, not dead but twitching. Then the radio crackled, and a voice came through.

"Graybeard, Graybeard, we have guests from the city side. Not walkers, others."

Then came the roar of many engines, and about a dozen motorcycles approached the checkpoint. The motorcycles were large, with big chrome pipes and wheels like trucks. On them sat tough guys in leather jackets and chains. Following them was a truck. The coolest motorcycle stopped near Graybeard, and the lead biker approached. He was all in leather, with a pistol holster on his belt, and a Winchester attached to his motorcycle saddle.

"Good day, ma'am,"

he greeted the girls in the car and shook Graybeard's hand firmly.

"I've got a few kegs of beer, packs of steaks, and a dozen armed guys. Can we help you with anything?"

Graybeard looked over the reinforcements and nodded.

"Okay, take the southern defense sector. Let's set frequencies. You have radios? What's your call sign?"

The biker took out his radio, twisted the dials, found the right frequency, and introduced himself.

"Therapist."

"Okay,"

added Graybeard.

"I'm Graybeard, on comms. Take the southern sector."

Then another engine noise was heard, and a motorcycle rolled up that looked less like a victim of a car accident and more like a proper motorcycle. The motorcyclist who jumped off was clearly younger and more agile than the burly bikers. Without removing his helmet, he dismounted, approached Graybeard and Therapist, took off his helmet, and it turned out to be a girl.

On her side also hung a pistol holster. Approaching Therapist, she looked at him.

"So, where do I go and who do I shoot? Why did you want to get rid of me, shoving me into the evacuation with those dumb chickens? I can shoot as well as your beer-guzzlers."

Therapist smiled and, looking at the biker girl, added.

"Sorry, dear, this is a sausage party, and you need to be at the hen party. Look, girls are driving over there, with a cop. Go with them."

The biker girl's gaze burned through Therapist, then swept over the girls.

"These holes will soon become zombie snacks."

Therapist smiled and added,

"Dear, they have the same holes as you. You should stick together."

And he patted the biker girl on her rounded butt. The angered biker girl immediately got on her motorcycle, revved it, took off, drove around the tractor, and headed down the highway. Therapist smiled and went to his men. Graybeard waved to the tractor driver and also left. The tractor pulled the trailer aside, and Andy drove onto the desert highway. Angie drove through the Arizona desert, and all around was nothing but sand. Cars were rare; there were a few abandoned ones and one burned-out one. Walkers were also not many. One seemed to have been run over by something heavy, like a truck, leaving only a wet spot and a pile of clothes on the asphalt. According to the navigator, they had a few kilometers left to a roadside motel, which also had a gas station.