Zomb-Pocalypse by Megan Berry

as he holds me even tighter. “This is going to save him at least another hour of torture.”
    Tears are falling freely down my cheeks now. I stop fighting Ryan and turn into him instead, burying my face in his collarbone. Beside us, Abby starts to cry too. Ryan reaches out and pulls her into our hug. I wrap one arm around my best friend and let loose all the emotions I have been feeling. I feel more than a little guilty that all of my tears aren’t for Kyle, but I can’t stop. Thankfully, the gurgling and spluttering only last a couple of minutes. Then, there is only silence, and the sounds of Abby and I sniffling.
    Without warning, Ryan pushes us brusquely away and pulls his knife from the leather on his belt. I hear the awful moan of the dead and then the wet, slurping sound of Ryan’s knife imbedding in Kyle’s head. I cringe when I hear the bone crunch, but, selfishly, I don’t turn around to see and neither does Abby. I feel bad leaving the burden for Ryan.
    I hear Ryan go into the bathroom to rinse off his knife, and then I feel the warm press of his hand on my back.
    “It’s over now,” he tells us, and his voice sounds like it’s on the edge of cracking. I throw my arms around him, and he shudders for a minute before gently pushing me away. I think if he let me hold him right now, he would probably break down.
    In the morning, we move Kyle and his parents’ bodies outside and leave them peacefully underneath a shady old tree in the center of the field. We would have liked to bury them, but we don’t have the time, energy, or resources. I console myself with the fact that they are all together, which is a lot more than a lot of people can say in this apocalypse.
    Megan disappears while we are lugging the bodies, and we don’t see her again until we’ve cleaned up and have the suburban packed. I would have been worried, but she is pretty bad ass and there hasn’t been a lot of activity around here the last two days.
    We see her just as we’re ready to leave, lugging a box across the yard. Ryan runs over to help her out. His face is comical when we hear the scrabbling of little toes and the unmistakable clucking of chickens.  
    “What are you doing with those?” Abby asks, wrinkling her nose when Megan opens up the back of the Suburban. I walk over to inspect the cardboard box with few crude holes punched in the top for air.
    “Think about it, we can’t just go to the supermarket when we want something.” Megan says, and I have to admit that it’s a great idea.
    “There’s a bunch of grain for them in the barn, you should pull around,” Megan tells us as she rams the box of chickens into the already-packed cargo hold. I look over at Abby who’s wrinkling her nose up at the sound of the chickens scrabbling on the cardboard.
    “You’ll be thanking me when you’re eating omelettes,” Megan puffs as she pulls herself into the SUV and points over towards the barn.
    Ryan shakes his head, hiding the first smile I’ve seen on his face since Kyle. “Let’s pick this stuff up and get on the road,” he agrees, putting the car into drive.

Chapter Seven
    The clucking about drives us crazy for the first fifty miles or so. After that, I’m not sure if we are growing used to them, or if the chickens are getting used to riding in the car. We are making good time, keeping to the side roads to avoid the major roadways that are probably clogged with zombies and abandoned cars. We see plenty of the dead, wandering around in legions, but they are fairly easy to avoid in the car. Around noon we see a huge group up ahead, shuffling around across the road and even filling the ditches; we have to turn off to avoid them.
    “Are they travelling in packs?” Abby asks, leaning forward to observe them.
    None of us know the answer. It certainly looks like they are grouping together. I begin to wonder how such a large group of them are randomly congregating in the middle of nowhere. Once we put a bit of distance