Twelve

          We hear it before we see it. A broken muffler kind of sound, much louder and harsher than the one of the Jeep that we've seen. On the top of a small hill we're out in the open, watching the black school bus raise dust as it drives down the road.

            "That isn't good." Marcus sounds fearful.

            I grab Gwen's shoulder and push her down. "Get on your stomachs. Quick! Before they see us."

            "What's going on?" she asks, her voice so childlike. "Sloane, why are we hiding?"

            "Who are they?" I ask Marcus through my teeth. The bus is covered in bullet holes and as it gets closer everything about it screams run.

            "I don't have time to explain," he says, strained. "We need to get out of here. Quick, crawl back, we'll head for the woods."

            As Gwen and Marcus move backwards, Bullet stays by my side, watching them for another moment. Closer, I can see that the bus isn't entirely black. Streaks of red adorn it, hand prints, designs, and on the side, in all capitals reads BETTER RUN.

            "Sloane, come on!" Marcus hisses from behind.

            I watch for another second when realize what's stuck in the grill. The white marks I hadn't noticed before now send of alarm bells in my head.

            "What are they, Marcus?"

            He grabs my ankle and yanks me back.

            Bones. The bus is entwined with human bones.

            "Cannibals."

            Gwen's breathing turns sharp as I whirl around, crawling with my belly towards the ground. Fear far greater than zombies lurking around searches inside my body and settles into the pit of my stomach and skull. Zombies wanted to eat you, and at the surface, cannibals don't seem much different. But humans, unlike zombies, are fully functional. They have complete control over their minds as they perform these acts. What they might do to us if we became caught, I don't intend on finding out.

            The engine revs, the sound much closer than before Too close.

            "They're coming this way," Marcus breathes. "We need to run. Get to the forest!"

            I grab Gwen and throw her to her feet, keeping my hand wrapped tightly around her wrist. She lags at first as I take off in a sprint, looking behind her to see what's coming.

            "Run!" I yell at her, my voice hoarse with fear. "Gwen, we need to get out of here!"

            Bullet barks at us, going fast but keeping himself in line with us. I briefly look over him and yell for him to go, but he doesn't listen.

            "They're trying to get away!" someone calls from behind us. They're not concerned, not even the slightest. They sound amused. Excited. "God, I love it when they try to get away."

            "They know we're here," Marcus calls from ahead, looking back to make sure we're on his trail.

            Behind there's the sounds of laughter and catcalls, like they're about to begin their hunt. The forest is another field away and but feels like it's halfway across the world, out of reach, out of my grasp.

            "We can fight them," I suggest, more to myself. "I have my shotgun. Do you have a weapon, Marcus?"

            "A pistol," he says in between breaths. "But it's no use. They're stronger, Sloane. Much stronger. We need to get away. Now."

            So we run. We push ourselves, focusing on the movement of our arms and legs rather than the laughter and calls from behind as people scamper out of the bus. When we finally hit the woods, I expect us to be safe. But the difference from the field to the forest isn't much. The people still chase us through the underbrush, every stumble I make bringing me just a little bit closer to them.

            And then a shot rings out.

            Marcus trips, his hands flying forward and into the air above his head as the momentum throws him forward. The way he falls is tragically graceful and even though the answer is obvious, it takes me a second to understand why it is that he isn't getting back up.

            Gwen pauses for a brief second, unsure of whether or not to run back to him or keep going. Despite his help to us, I can't stop to check if he's alive and put ourselves at risk. My eyes glance over him as I pass him by, pushing Gwen on.

            "Don't make me put a bullet in one of you pretty ladies!" The tone is playful, sending goosebumps up my arms.

            "Sloane?" she whimpers, her pace slowing slightly as she gasps to talk to me. "What do we do? I don't want to – I don't want him to shoot me."

            When the gun fires again, the noise ripping across the woods, I slow to a stop and freeze in place. Bullet continues to bark, jumping around as he tries to get us to keep moving.

            "Go," I tell him. I don't think he understands, but he stops barking for a moment. "Go!"

            He takes off as the group reaches us, their guns pointed before I even have time to turn around.

            "Well, lookie 'ere." With his pistol hanging limply at his side, he walks carelessly towards us, smiling with yellow teeth. "What brings you two ladies to these parts of the woods?"

            Someone behind him snickers but no one moves forward as he brushes past me, not even slightly concerned about the shotgun dangling from my fingers. As he approaches Gwen, her eyes widen. She looks for me to do something, but my hands are tied. There isn't even a point into putting up a fight.

            I keep my eyes trained forward as they push us back through the woods. Gwen winces as they pick up Marcus, carrying his limp body with us as we trek through the underbrush. Despite our capture, everyone is silent. What is there to say when you're backed into a corner?

            "Sloane," Gwen hisses, trying to get my attention without spiking the interest of the people around us. A man has her hands behind her back, holding them together despite how helpless she is. My knuckles turn white against the metal of my gun. I refuse to look over.

            The leader watches us closely before closing the distance between us. "Not going to answer your sister?"

            My jaw tightens. "She's not my sister."

            "Could a' fooled me."

            Would Gwen have been better living back in her empty, boarded up house with little to no food? She would have stayed protected, maybe not from zombies for much longer, but certainly she wouldn't be in this situation right now. I can't even begin to think about Marcus. He's just another person's blood on my hands.

            "Go on," he continues. "Answer her." When I don't answer, his soldier's grip on Gwen tightens, causing her to whimper. "You know, two girls seems like a lot of work all of the sudden."

            Clenching my teeth, I move over to Gwen, shoving the hands of her captor off of her. She looks up at me, her eyes wide and scared as I take her hand in mind. I don't say anything. Instead I keep my face expressionless and as if understanding, she nods.

            The rest of the small group stands waiting outside of their bus, stretching their legs as they wait for us. They're all covered in grime and what I can only guess is dried blood. Looking up when we arrive, one of the darker men steps forward.

            "It's going to get crowded on the bus, Greg," he says.

            Greg, the leader, hands his gun forcefully to the man and smiles. "Good thing we're not going very far."

The drive is excruciatingly silent. Gwen and I share a seat together near the front, the man who held Gwen slouched casually in the seat next to us. He keeps his eyes unblinking, watching us as he holds onto his gun tightly. I give him a look and tighten my grip on my shotgun.

            After what feels like endless roads, forest and fields, we begin to drive through a rundown town. The bus slows down to a crawl as it rumbles across the dirt, creating dust clouds on the barren path behind us.

            For the most part the buildings are boarded up, looking as if the people who lived here prepared for the zombies beforehand. But as we drive along, there's no sign of another human being. The only thing that we know for sure is that we're the only one's here.

            The bus stops in front of a faded, but in-tact convenience store. Greg ushers us off and into the dusty street but keeps us within his group. He then waves on the bus which drives off, turning a corner and it's out of sight.

            "Amar," Greg calls. The man with the dark skin from before trudges towards us, the rips in his shirt blowing in the wind. "Think you can handle these two while we set up camp?"

            Amar laughs, showing his stained teeth. Up close, his eyes appear whiter than normal, yet incredibly bloodshot. "I don't think they will be a problem at all."

            Greg nods and walks off, the rest of his group in tow. We follow them towards the convenience store and watch as they start to rip off the boards barricading the double doors.

            I consider speaking up, telling them that this isn't a good idea. Who knows what's stuck inside there, trapped for who knows for how long? But my judgement gets the better of me. If zombies were to run out, we'd have a better chance of escaping.

            Suddenly a hand comes down hard on the barrel of my gun, startling me. I meet Amar's eyes and he tugs the metal away from me. "I don't think you need this, now, do you?"

            I reach for it but he pulls it out of my reach, smirking at my attempt.

            When the way is clear and people start moving into the building, Amar places his hand sharply on back and shoves me forward. Gwen stumbles beside me, scowling at him but keeping her fists tucked under her arms as he does the same to her.

            "This place stinks," she mutters when we enter the musty store.

            Gwen's right. The smell is familiar, bringing me back to the elementary school I was in who knows how many weeks ago. It reeks of mold and something much, much worse.

            "There's dead in here." I stop in my path.

            "So what?" Amar asks. "Keeping moving."

            He jabs the shotgun in my back and I move a hand to cover my nose, Gwen following in suit. We're ushered towards the far right corner behind shelves and what's left of the cashier's table. 

            "Sit," he orders. Gwen immediately sinks onto her knees while I stand up straighter, trying to see over the group of people murmuring across the room. They're assessing another door, this one three times more barricaded than the one we used to get in here. "Hey, bitch, did you not hear me?" As I meet Amar's eyes he slams the shotgun into my side, the force throwing me to the ground. I wince from the impact as he glares over me. "Don't make me kill you early."

            Beside me, Gwen grabs my arm. "Early?"

            "We already have your friend. We're not going to waste fresh meat until we need it." His smile makes me shudder.

            When he turns around to check on the others, I slide into the corner, cradling my ribs. I don't think any are broken but there definitely will be a bruise.

            "What are we going to do?"

            I shake my head and raise my finger to my lips. "We have time to figure that out," I whisper. "Don't give them a reason to pay attention to us."

            Despite being temporarily safe, my mind wanders to Bullet, hoping he's okay. I keep telling myself I did the right thing, sending him away. Even though he's been the only one I've had since my concussion, I couldn't bear to let him come with us. Our captors would have killed him for sure.

            The murmuring grows quieter across from us as they figure out what to do. I listen intently but the only voice I can make out clear enough is Greg's.

            "We need the extra space. Tonight when we bring the bus back around we'll run out of room in here too quick. I don't care if there's bodies in there. I care that the army is tracking us and we need a place to hide for the night." I have to lean to the right to see past the shelves. Greg steps forward, his worn boots echoing on the ground in the new silence. "Do we understand?"

            A woman raises her hand, her voice shrill. "What if it's not just bodies, Greg? Is it really worth putting us all in danger?"

            Greg scowls. "Aren't we already?"

            "I have an idea!" Another man steps forward. "When night hits, we'll send people in to check while the others wait safely outside."

            "But who?" the woman asks.

            Amar's eyes fall on me and grins. He strolls towards me and lifts me roughly to my feet. "We'll use the meat."

            At first there are protests. I try to wiggle out of Amar's grasp as my captors argue but he holds strong.

            "What will we eat, after we've used up that guy?"

            "We need food, Greg!"

            "We don't know for sure that they're going to die," someone pipes in. "Wouldn't we rather lose those two than two of our own? Besides, we can scavenge for food if worse comes to worst."

            Greg rubs his chin and nods his head. "Then it's settled."

            The others immediately go back to searching the area, the issue resolved. It isn't until they move out of the way that I see what's painted beside the door with an arrow.

            DON'T OPEN. DEAD INSIDE.