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In between the vehicles, a man in a ripped puffer jacket was pinned at the waist, his face torn and bloodied, tendons in his neck exposed to the air. His hands clawed at the bonnet of the silver car, leaving smeared fingerprints across the metal.
Around the crash, eleven—no, twelve—infected roamed.
“That’s… manageable,” I said. We’d handled half a dozen with just the two of us.
Luke lifted his pickaxe into a two-handed grip, eyes tracking the closest infected. “If everyone stays in their cars, it shouldn’t take too long to clear.”
Past the crash, five vehicles were bogged on either side of the road, where desperate people had tried to turn back or drive past the blockage.
Everyone was still contained, safe in their cars. None of their windows were smashed.
My shoulders relaxed for the first time since we’d come down to investigate. “I’ll take the two on the left.”
Luke nodded at the centre line. “The ones over there are mine.”
Tim spun his hammer, eyes on the scene. “We’ll take the stragglers.”
I had no clue how much experience Tim and Varesh had dealing with these things, but it was too late to ask. The one scrabbling at the side window of the silver sedan lifted its head and stared in our direction.
Varesh pushed his glasses back into place, his hand less than steady. “We’ve been spotted.”
Footsteps sounded behind me, too quick and steady to be the dead, then a burly man carrying a golf club pulled up short. “Need a hand?”
“Not yet,” Luke said. “Hang back unless it’s safe to jump in.”
The two teens with the crowbar had followed us to the crash site, and they waited nearby, taking it all in.
The woman in the passenger seat of the car beside me lifted her hand in a brief wave.
I nodded back, then said to Luke, “See you in a minute.”
Before he could respond, I strode toward the closest infected man. Twelve steps, and I swung my axe, splitting his head before he could grab me.
He fell to the ground in blood-soaked pyjamas, the top buttons popped open, his exposed chest clawed to shreds.
Pivoting, I looked up.
Luke drove his pickaxe through the temple of a naked man with a torn stomach, taking him down with one efficient swing.
Tim crushed the jaw of a third infected before finishing him with a second, more powerful blow.
Three down. This really could be over in minutes, and I’d be back on my way to Sadie.
Breathing hard, I spun around.
Varesh kept watch on a fourth infected, a woman in tattered loungewear. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t move.
Clutching my axe, I jogged over and stepped between them. The first swing connected with her cheek, and I hit the back of her skull as she spun and lost her balance.
“Thanks.” Varesh gave me a quick smile.
“No problem.”
“This isn’t so bad,” a man said from behind me. Then he called to someone else, “They’re taking them down.”
More shouting echoed from farther back in the queue. Doors slamming. Footsteps running in our direction.
As half a dozen people sprinted toward us carrying makeshift weapons, the first trickle of apprehension came over me.
