When Arnold hit the brakes, the bus slid along on the zombie muck for several more yards. Only Arnold’s expert skills kept them on the road. The bus sluggishly drifted along the curve, coming to a hard stop on the road’s narrow shoulder, striking the guard rail. The barrier absorbed the energy from the impact, saving them from a plunge over the side.
Emma barely kept on her feet throughout the ordeal and landed with a hard thump on the seat when the bus came to a rocking stop. Pulling herself upright, she warily glanced at the view outside her window. They were scarily close to falling down the hillside. While Arnold fought with the gear shift and the engine grumbled as he attempted to pull away from the edge, the surviving zombies crowded the bus.
“What’s wrong?” Ted demanded. “We need to move!”
“Arnold, we got a shit-ton of zombies pushing up on my side,” Monica said, completely ignoring Ted’s panic.
“I can’t get traction.” Arnold continued to struggle up front, the engine roaring.
“We’ve got a tire hanging over the edge,” Juan said from the back. “That’s why we’re not moving.”
Nerit remained silent as she scrutinized the situation, moving from one side of the bus to the other. At last she said, “Stop, Arnold. We can’t move until we clear the area and sort out how to get this bus moving before the next wave of zombies arrives.”
Ted blotted his broken nose with the hem of his shirt. “They’re going to push us off the hill! We’ll go over the edge. We have to go now!”
Monica pointed to the back door. “You want to go on foot? Be my guest.”
“Should I call it in?” Arnold asked Nerit.
“Another vehicle won’t fit up here safely. They’d also have to back down the road. There’s no room to turn around. That being said, let them know our situation.”
“You have to call for help!” Ted shouted at Nerit. “We can’t stay here!”
Eyes blazing, Monica poked Ted’s arm to get his attention. She shushed him as Arnold started to speak with the Fort. “We’re working on a plan, Ted.”
Staring down the slope of the hill, Emma listened to the arguing voices. When she’d been on her own, her choices had shaped her fate. Now whether she lived or died was dependent on others.
It was unsettling.
Hearing footfalls behind her, she glanced over her shoulder to see Nerit sliding open a window and aiming her sniper rifle through a gap in the metal mesh. She hesitated, closing it back up without firing.
“We’re at a bad angle. Kurt, take my pistol and start thinning out the zombies up against the bus. Use the portholes and be careful. The zombies will try to snatch the gun right out of your hand. Juan, Arnold, figure out how to get this bus moving. Emma, follow me. Monica, grab the bag of ammo.” Nerit handed her firearm to the badly sunburned man then a few more magazines. “Can you handle this?”
Kurt nodded. “I’ve got it covered.”
“What should I do?” Ted asked.
“Sit there and be quiet.” The look on the older woman’s face instantly quashed any of his protests. “No more arguments. We kill the zombies, find a way to get this bus moving, and go home.”
Without another word, Nerit climbed onto the back of one of the seats and lifted herself onto the roof.
Picking up her rifle, Emma followed.
23
On The Edge
The hot wind blasted Emma’s face, reeking of the dead crowding the bus nestled into the scrub brush and guardrail on the shoulder. Beyond the sharp drop off was the breathtaking view of the greenery of the countryside and the town nestled into the hills. On the other side of the narrow road, the imposing rock face rose up to Lookout Point. They'd only have to worry about zombies approaching on the road. That made the situation a little more manageable.
A gunshot fired from within the bus drowned out the unsettling moans of the zombies beating on the sides of the vehicle.
“We need to cull the numbers. Emma, help Kurt clear the area around the bus,” Nerit ordered. “I'll take care the ones coming down the hill.”
The sun was higher in the morning sky and blazed down on them, the metal beneath their feet and knees scorching hot. Emma set her rifle aside and shrugged the harness Monica had used earlier over her shoulders. Nerit hoisted her sniper rifle and took up a position close to the front of the shuddering bus. Monica appeared, tossing a bag onto the roof and pulling herself up.
“I'll reload,” she said.
Emma scooted closer to the edge of the bus. She deliberately tightened the line and leaned forward to get a good view of the assault on the bus. A handgun was better at this range, so she set the rifle to the side and pulled out her first pistol. Below her, the upturned dead faces with hungry eyes and snapping jaws were the monsters of her waking hours and nightmares. Their blackened skin, snarled hair, and torn clothing obliterated most of their humanity, but there were a few that retained some semblance of who they’d once been. This was the part she didn't enjoy. Observing life-like faces and wonderin