Outbreak CH3
#1 of Outbreak
The spade struck the hard, sun-baked earth to little effect. Vicky's ears flattened against her head and she chucked it at the fence. It smacked the planks with a sharp tuning-fork cry and clattered to the dirt. For good measure, she backhanded the bag of seeds beside her. The jackrabbit leaned back on the palms of her hands and let loose an exasperated sigh.
"Hey now--what did gardening ever do to you?"
She glanced over her shoulder and shaded her eyes with her hand. A dark, massive figure craned over her and extended its offering of cool well water. She accepted with a smile.
"Nothing, I guess. I'm just tired of this. It's hard work and I'm pretty sure my hands are blistering even through my fur."
Roy lowered himself to the ground with surprising grace and sat beside her. He gave her an appraising glance out of the corner of his eye.
"Surprising. The way you took on that dead guy made it seem like you're used to this kind of thing," he said. Vicky winced.
"Do you have to call them 'guys'? I don't like thinking of them as people," she replied. Roy shrugged. Her ears twitched backward again, a momentary flicker.
"What did you do before all of this?" Roy asked. His voice was low, confidential.
"Nothing, honestly. I was a boho burnout. You know the type, right?"
Roy shook his head. She blew a tuft of her hair out of her eyes and scrunched up her forehead, concentrating intently on the sky while she thought.
"It's like...you make a lot of art. Doesn't matter what kind as long as people can pretend to understand it. Do a lot of drugs. That doesn't really matter either--which ones, I mean. You know, slumming it."
"That would explain the, hm, interesting skill set," Roy said, the sentence ending in a badly-suppressed snort. Vicky looked at him and opened her mouth to speak, closed it, and started giggling. Roy chuckled quietly. Before long they were doubled over in laughter.
"Why was that so funny?" Vicky asked once they had wiped away the tears and learned to breathe again.
"I think we needed it."
"Needed what?"
They both looked up. Mike was standing behind them, a frown etching deep lines in his face. His tail lashed anxiously.
"A good laugh. It's been a while," Roy explained.
"Yeah. Well. Be careful, alright? You never know what might hear you."
They all jumped as the clatter of tin cans announced an intruder. Mike had strung them around the perimeter, set to crash to the ground when a wire was tripped. His ears flattened against his head and he reached for the pistol at his belt.
"Roy. You got your shit?," he whispered in a choked voice.
Roy nodded and rose to his feet. Mike pointed in the direction of the commotion and Roy began his cautious approach.
"Wait," Vicky hissed. Roy stopped. They both looked at her, annoyed. "What do I do?"
"Follow my lead. Could be nothing. Sometimes is. Still, best to be cautious," he said softly, jerking his head towards the source of the sound. "Let's go."
She padded softly after him even though his heavy hoofbeats announced their approach. Muffled snorting sounds echoed in a strangely hollow way from the backyard. As they got closer the snorts grew more agitated. Vicky's fur stood on end.
They rounded the corner cautiously.
"Shit," Roy whispered.
The undead grizzly bear was momentarily harmless. She had managed to wedge her head into one of their trash cans and was not having an easy time making her escape. The problem was her cub.
She wore a smart, if tattered, business suit. A too-tight red band around her wrist trailed into a leash attached to a child safety harnass. It had been attached very well, it looked comfortable but had to have been very well made to leash him to her even in death. He looked like he must have been three or four years old when he died. Roy retched and spat on the ground.
The child's cloudy eyes focused on Roy and he let out a keening cry. His grubby little hands clutched in the bison's direction. The mother roared in fury. Vicky's eyes darted from them to Roy and back again in a skittish rhythm.
"They don't care about each other. Right?"
Roy said nothing. His eyes scanned the surroundings.
"Right?," she repeated, her voice cracking.
"Mike!" he called in a bone-shaking baritone. "Mike, don't yell back! They see us, but they don't know you're here! Bring me my shotgun!"
"Shotgun?" Vicky squealed. Roy nodded and put a finger to his muzzle. Her jaw worked furiously but she remained silent. Her knees were shaking. Roy glanced at her and offered her an arm to lean on. She clung to him immediately, needing no encouragement.
Mike came running up to Roy. He skidded to a halt, kicking up a thick cloud of dust. Roy grabbed the shotgun and leveled the barrel at the mother. She was stumbling around wildly, the cub keening in his hollow, unearthly voice. Roy's eyes narrowed and the barrel panned to follow her. The cub's wails grew more urgent.
She was confused. She stopped. That was enough. The boom echoed throughout the yard and she dropped. He had taken out her kneecaps, but she wasn't taken out yet. She dug her claws into the dirt and scrambled towards him with surprising speed. The cub stumbled along after her, trying to stay on his feet.
"Shit. I can't see her head," Roy growled. "Vicky. I'm going to need some help. See that rake?"
She nodded an affirmative, realized he couldn't afford to glance at her, and choked hoarsely. "Y-yeah."
"You gotta be quick. She'll have crossed the gap soon. When she gets close, hook it under the trashcan and run."
Vicky snatched the rake and gripped it tightly, her fingers flexing around the handle. She held it like an axe. The grizzly was only five feet away. She reared it back over her shoulder and brought it down hard on the zombie's shoulders. It dug into the flesh behind the rim of the can. She roared furiously and lashed blindly at the air. The cub screamed.
The jackrabbit took off running, taking the can and neat lines of flesh and fur with her. The grizzly only had a moment to blink blearily at the sunlight before she no longer had a head. The cub howled and ran towards Roy. Roy slammed a shell into the chamber, cocked the barrel, and fired. The cub dropped to the ground in silence.
"What the fuck, Roy?" Mike screamed. Roy slowly turned to face him.
"It would have killed us."
"It was just a kid!"
"It would have killed us," Roy repeated flatly. "And if you fuck with me on this I won't take another one out for you. Ever. Got it?"
Mike's mouth opened and slammed shut. His ears flattened against his head. "You know what? Fine. I get it. It's fucking horrible shit to see your best fucking friend shoot a fucking baby, but it's fine. I get it."
He stormed off towards the cabin and slammed the door behind him. Roy snorted in disgust. Vicky reached up and placed her hand on his shoulder. He met her gaze with tearful eyes.
"I understand."
"Thanks."
They worked in the garden side by side in silence until sunset.