Chapter 10: Nikki

 

I didn’t lock the door. The last I’d checked, the bugs couldn’t turn doorknobs, but they could break down the door with time—those claws were not for show—and Koriv’n might need to duck in if things got dicey out there.

I also wasn’t stupid enough to relax once I was inside the home. Everyone had heard stories of people boarding up a place thinking it was safe only to find out they’d unwittingly trapped themselves with feeding scuttlers or dangerous strangers.

I checked the ground floor first. It was empty. I made sure the back entrance was closed but unlocked in case I needed to make a quick getaway. I took a chair and leaned it on the door to the basement. I doubted there was anything down there, but you could never be too sure. They’d need to knock over the chair to get out, giving me tons of notice.

Then, grabbing a cleaver from the kitchen, I snuck up the stairs. The second floor was empty too, but it didn’t stop my heart from pounding out of my chest as I checked each room and closet.

I checked the bathroom for useful items and found some antiseptic spray. I stuffed it into my already too full backpack. It was hard not to want to take everything useful with me, but I knew carrying too much would also slow me down. There were always difficult choices to be made.

I headed back downstairs. When the chaos had first started, I’d learned quickly not to stay on the second floor, where you can become trapped. It was easier to run from dangerous people when there was an exit nearby.

One time, I was separated from Jason and stuck hiding in a kid’s closet all night, because some scary armed men decided to use the house I was staying in as a rest stop. They’d opened the closet door, too, but hadn’t looked further when they saw it was useless children’s clothes. I’d been lucky they’d stayed downstairs and left the next morning.

Even with the ex-military group, we’d stayed on the ground floor. They’d used the second floor as storage and for shooting and burning down the bugs when they swarmed. I knew other groups used the roof since the bugs had difficulty climbing up until this summer. But our group had been more focused on human attacks, probably because they were the type to attack other people.

The only reason I’d been okay napping on the second floor of my house was because I’d known Koriv’n stood watch.

I took the gun out of my bag. It was stored unloaded, so I dug out some rounds to load the magazine. I popped the magazine back into the pistol, then just to be prepared, I loaded the two spare magazines and put them into the outer pocket of my bag.

What some zombie movies got wrong was that a Glock didn’t have a manual safety; there was no safety to turn off. Instead, they had a trigger safety that required the trigger to be pulled in a certain way for the gun to fire.

I stared at the holster, realizing it needed a belt. I could run upstairs to look for one, but the simple curtain ties caught my attention. Tearing one off the wall, I threaded the holster through and tied the weapon to my hips. My pants didn’t have belt loops, but it would do for now.

The loud crash of breaking glass rang through the home, triggering the familiar rush of adrenaline. I peeked around the wall to the front dining room window to see a scuttler on its back, struggling to get up. It was missing a few legs, and one of its bladed claws was broken in half, but it was still dangerous. It didn’t need all its legs to move, and a broken claw was still deadly.

The gun wasn’t for the bugs. I knew I’d need to hit it in the head, preferably in one of the eyes, to stop it. That wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t have enough practice for that.

I made it to the back door just as the scuttler got to its feet. It noticed me immediately, sensing prey through its chemical receptors. The hair at the back of my neck stood at attention, and tingles shot down my spine.

Shit! I hadn’t resprayed the perfume recently.

I struggled with the sliding door to the backyard and stepped right into the second screen door I’d forgotten about. I needed to calm down before I made a deadly mistake. Finally out the door, I slid it shut as the scuttler charged through the living room toward me. The door slammed shut on its already broke claw, the appendage stopping the door from sliding shut completely.

I could stay here and try to keep the door between us, hoping I had the upper hand. It was easier for me to keep the door closed than for it to push it open with a broken claw. However, I wasn’t particularly strong. I might not be able to hold for long, and if other scuttlers found me, I’d be screwed. I was lucky the skies were devoid of flyers; they’d followed the noisy van away.

The second option was to book it across the yard and over the next fence, hoping the scuttler’s missing limbs would slow it down. It was a crappy climber to begin with, but short fences like these usually didn’t stop them. This option relied on me finding another unlocked door as soon as possible.

The last option was to shoot the scuttler. With its claw stuck in the door, it couldn’t move much, and I doubted I would miss the head if I shot through the gap. I didn’t have a silencer, though, and the shot would call every creepy crawly in the area to me. Nope. That wasn’t an option.

With just the glass door in between us, I got an up-close look at the horrible monster, and I had to look away. Just looking at it made me feel like I was going to die. I’d only gotten this close to those walking nightmares a few times and never for this long.

I had to get out of here. Holding this door closed was draining my energy, and anytime now, a flyer would spot me and call out an alarm. Then I’d be toast.

I scanned the area, looking for my best option. If I let go of the door, I had to move, pronto. I could try to climb the chain-link fence, or I could try to fiddle with the latch at the gate to get back to the front of the house. Koriv’n was at the front of the building, but so were the rest of the scuttlers.

Deciding to head toward Koriv’n and his glowing blade of bug destruction, I made my choice. I took a big breath before releasing the door and sprinted across the patio toward the side of the house. I knocked over as many of the chairs on the patio as I could so the ugly mofo had to crawl over or around them.

I fumbled with the latch, the adrenaline making my hands shake. The fight or flight response made me a good runner, but it was horrible for dextrous tasks. I heard the dreaded thing salivating at my heels. I got the latch opened, ran through the gate, and slammed it behind me. These latches automatically locked when the gate closed completely; I was hoping the bug would need to climb over it.

I continued running, scanning for Koriv’n. At first, all I saw were piles of bug carcasses, some with legs still twitching from fried nerves. Damn! That was a lot of bugs.

Then the welcome sight of mauve skin greeted me. I started toward him, until I saw what he fought: one of those new bugs he’d called a centicreep. The thing was huge. And long. And holy hell, it was fast too!

Oh, fuckity fuck!

I was glad I’d chosen not to shoot the scuttler. I’d be as good as dead if I had that thing after me.

I should’ve run for the back fence instead. Out here, I was only a distraction for Koriv’n. I didn’t want to be the reason the centicreep got the upper hand. So I ran.

I was out of practice. At the start of the bugpocalypse, I’d considered myself one of the better runners. But after a winter of playing crack house with the ex-military group, I’d lost a lot of my endurance.

I ran to the next house over, praying the door was unlocked and the window wasn’t broken. It wasn’t. The scuttler was slower than usual, having lost some of its legs and dragging a claw on the ground, giving me extra time. I hopped over the porch railing, not taking the time to go back down the stairs. That was when I saw the axe leaning against the side of the house.

The scuttler was closing in. I could try the next house, but if that door was locked or if it had a smashed window, making it useless for hiding in, I was screwed. I picked up the axe and hefted it in my hands. The thing was substantial, heavier than I’d thought it would be. Maybe I was just weaker after a year of malnutrition eating away at my muscles. But heavy was good. Heavy meant I could kill this thing with one good hit; that was, if I could even swing it.

The bug rounded the corner and ran toward me, the broken claw now completely missing. It had left it one driveway back. With the bug in front of me and adrenaline coursing through my veins, I swung the axe with no problem.

Knowing I didn’t have the reach to hit it on the head without getting too close to the remaining claw, I swung for the claw. It flew off, hitting the side of the house. Then I swung again, smashing the axe into the monster’s head. The blade sunk in, and the exoskeleton caved around it.

I didn’t stop there. I raised the weapon and brought it down again, this time hitting it in the joint where one of its now broken claws joined the body. I hit it again and again until my arms could no longer lift the heavy axe.

It wasn’t the smartest thing, to waste my energy, but I wasn’t exactly thinking here. I was in survival mode, and the brain didn’t always factor in during emergencies. Remember those zombie movies? Yeah, I understood why not everyone acted intelligently while faced with a crisis.

It was easy to call someone “too stupid to live” from the comfort of my couch or bed, but brains didn’t always work at full capacity during a life or death situation.

I dragged the axe behind me, not willing to let it go.

A sound had me turning around, but it was just Koriv’n, covered in gore and favoring one leg. No bugs followed us.

“We did it.” I latched onto his arm, still refusing to release my weapon.

Together, we limped to the next house.