Dark Days | Book 8 | Avalon

by Lukens, Mark

  Ray was up on his feet, his legs shaky. He wasn’t too sure about this plan, but it was the best they could come up with. The longer they waited, the more chance of the rippers scattering, and the more chance of the Dark Angels coming down here. They were probably only going to wait a certain amount of time for the rippers to do their job before coming down and checking on things.

  Josh led Emma to the back of the room. She waited by the wall, ready to scream.

  Ray went to the metal door and pounded on it with the edge of his fist, yelling. “You want us? You want to get in here?”

  The rippers went crazy on the door, beating at it, pounding on it, metal from their knives scraping at the metal door.

  Mike got in position, his hand on the metal doorhandle. All he had to do was pull down and open it hard, back away as the door swung open—but he had to do it all in the darkness while Ray shined his light on the doorway.

  This didn’t feel right to Ray. He couldn’t help thinking that something was wrong, that he had overlooked some important detail.

  Josh was beside Ray, to his left, his body tense, the M-16 cradled in his hands.

  “Remember,” Ray told Josh, not bothering to be quiet now. “Wait a few seconds. Let them get inside the room.”

  “Got it, boss.”

  Ray gritted his teeth; he really didn’t need Josh’s sarcasm right now. He looked at Mike. “You ready?”

  “Ready,” Mike said. He’d sounded so strong and confident before—now he sounded like a twelve-year-old boy again.

  Ray took a deep breath and aimed his flashlight at the door, a spotlight illuminating the whole door, Mike just inside the circle of light, his hands on the doorhandle, ready to wrench it down and pull the door open.

  “Now!” Ray yelled.

  Mike pushed down on the metal lever doorhandle and pulled the door open—and that’s when things went terribly wrong.

  CHAPTER 61

  Luke

  Luke sat in the back of the same pickup truck that Petra had picked him up in a few miles outside of Hell Town. She drove now. Martin was next to Luke in the back of the truck, both of them armed with the M-16s Dawson and his group had. They also had an extra magazine each and two boxes of bullets.

  The air was freezing as they drove. Petra and Dawson had gone over the plan with everyone. The two distraction vehicles, the Humvee and the smaller of Dawson’s two pickup trucks, had a large portion of the group in them. The pickup sat three in the back seats and two in front; the Humvee sat another four in that vehicle. That left only five in the other three vehicles: three drivers and the two shooters in back of the pickup truck. The van, pickup, and SUV should be enough to hold the people from the roof, but it was going to be cramped.

  Luke was quiet as they drove. Martin hadn’t said much, and that was fine with Luke. He didn’t let his mind wander; he focused on his task, as he had done his whole professional life. He didn’t try to imagine what was going to happen, trying to figure out different scenarios, he just let his mind go blank; he would be ready to react to whatever happened. He trusted his training and his skills.

  Thirty minutes later they were in Perry, driving toward the intersection. There were more rippers this time, more of them riled up, like they had been expecting another attack of vehicles to come. The rocks and chunks of concrete rained toward them. Luke aimed his rifle but didn’t shoot just yet—he didn’t want to waste any more ammo than he needed to.

  Petra slowed the pickup down as they neared the restaurant, turning into the parking lot.

  Rippers were waiting at the ditch, maybe learning that this was the place they crossed. There still weren’t as many rippers as Luke thought there would be; it seemed most of them had rushed back into the store, still trying to gather up as much food and drinks as they could—they reminded him of Dark Angels hoarding food and supplies; maybe they weren’t so different.

  Luke was up in the back of the truck, leaning over the cab, his elbows on the roof, aiming his rifle as Petra sped toward the half dozen rippers waiting for them with knives and clubs in their hands. Luke squeezed the trigger over and over again, picking each of them off. The last two tried to run but Luke got them before they even turned all the way around to get away.

  Petra sped down into the ditch. Luke just got back down inside the bed of the truck to hold on as Petra climbed the other side of the ditch. The truck bounced up and over the edge of the ditch, running over the flattened shrubs that used to be the border, then onto the pavement. The van and SUV were right behind her, following her through the ditch and into the parking lot. As soon as the three vehicles were in the parking lot, the other two distraction vehicles crossed the ditch and followed them, hanging back a little and drifting farther apart.

  In the lead, Petra raced toward the Super Bea’s, rushing up to the front, the same spot where they had stopped before and Jo had thrown down the walkie. Luke picked up the walkie in the back of the truck. He was sure Jo and the others had seen them coming as far back as the intersection. He saw the rope ladders falling from the front of the building, all three at the same time, unfurling and hanging down as Petra skidded to a stop.

  The distraction vehicles spread out: each of them racing toward the far corners of the front of the building. Rippers were already coming. The pickup was at the left side of the building where the gate to the fenced-in area was. The shooters were up in the back, firing at the rippers.

  The van and SUV stopped a few feet behind Petra, staying at least five feet apart so everyone from the roof could get in easily enough.

  Three people descended the rope ladders. Luke watched them with his assault rifle ready. It seemed like they were all moving so slowly down the ladders. But a moment later the men and the one woman were on the ground. Two wore backpacks and one had a duffel bag looped over his shoulder. They all had weapons, standing guard as the next people started down the ladders: three women with two children a few rungs above them. Luke recognized the kids: Patrick and Brooke. This next group was climbing down the swaying ladders so slowly they made the first three look like speed demons.

  Luke glanced at the pickup truck full of people. The men in back were still shooting as the truck turned around in a wide circle, driving back toward the rear of the parking lot to turn back toward them.

  They’re shooting too much—they’re going to run out of ammo too soon.

  But there was nothing Luke could do about it. He was helpless as he waited in the back of the truck for Jo and the others to get down from the roof. He could try to pick off some of the rippers if they got past the trucks, but he made himself wait.

  Brooke was down on the ground, one of the men grabbing her when he could reach her. The boy had frozen up halfway down. The woman (Luke thought her name was Rebecca) stayed put on the ladder a few feet away from him, trying to coax the scared boy down. Luke could hear the boy crying.

  Another woman was coming down the ladder Brooke had just climbed down from. She was going too fast. She slipped, almost fell, but she caught herself at the last second.

  Patrick cried even harder as he watched the woman almost fall off.

  “Just look at me,” the woman told Patrick. “We can do this together.”

  The next woman was down. Another man was following her down, another man waiting at the top of the knee wall for her to get almost all the way down.

  This was taking too long. If they could’ve used all three ladders maybe they could have made it, but this was taking too much time.

  The rippers were coming from across the street, some coming from the partially completed building, some from the gas station at the corner of the intersection, some from the restaurant. But there were so many still behind the store, still inside the store. It sounded like there were a million of them. If they waited too long they would be overrun by them, bogging their vehicles down so they couldn’t escape.

  One of the men with the rifle tried to escort Brooke toward the SUV, but she shrugged him off, bolt
ing away from him.

  What the hell’s she doing?

  Brooke ran to the bottom of the ladder that the boy was on and she climbed it, shimmying up so much more quickly than she had descended it. The boy had stopped wailing, staring down at Brooke, watching her in awe like he was watching a superhero coming to rescue him.

  “I’ll help you down,” Brooke yelled up at the boy who looked to be her age, maybe a year or two younger. “You follow me down. I won’t let you fall.”

  The boy seemed to believe it. He started climbing down after Brooke. They were moving slowly, but at least they were moving.

  Three others got into position at the tops of the ladders, ready to start climbing down as soon as Brooke, Patrick, and Rebecca were off of the middle ladder.

  Martin moved to the tailgate of the truck, getting ready to aim.

  “Save your ammo,” Luke told him. “Hear those rippers in the back of the store? They’re coming now. We’re gonna need that ammo.”

  Martin seemed like he was going to shoot, but then he lowered his weapon.

  Brooke was off the ladder, Patrick right behind her, and Rebecca.

  “Over here,” Luke yelled at the three of them. “Get into that SUV.” He pointed at the black SUV right behind them.

  They ran across the sidewalk toward the waiting vehicle, Rebecca getting to it first, opening the back door.

  “That’s a damn amazing thing you just did,” Luke yelled at Brooke as she got to the SUV. Brooke couldn’t help smiling.

  Kate was the next one down. She had a backpack on, and Luke swore he’d seen something moving inside of the pack as she ran to the SUV to get inside with Brooke.

  The last ones coming down were Jo, Gil, and another man with a rifle looped over his shoulder. They were moving pretty fast, but maybe it wasn’t fast enough. The pickup truck was speeding toward them from the far corner of the store, honking its horn and flashing its lights. Luke didn’t need the warning, he saw the horde of rippers chasing the truck; it looked like there were hundreds of them.

  The Humvee was coming back from the other corner of the store, another mob of rippers chasing it. Both vehicles turned toward the ditch between the supermarket parking lot and the restaurant parking lot. The van was full and it followed the two vehicles, then the SUV followed them. Only Petra waited on the last three people to get down off the ladders and into the back of the pickup. They already had a man inside the pickup who had thanked them profusely for coming to get them.

  Just Jo, Gil, and the man with the rifle slung over his shoulder to go.

  Luke watched the horde of rippers. Some of them had peeled away to chase the other vehicles but there were still so many coming toward their pickup.

  “Come on!” the man in the back of the pickup yelled, holding on to the side.

  Luke stood up near the back of the cab, his back against the rear window, aiming his M-16. He squeezed off a few shots, mowing a few of the rippers down. But the shots weren’t stopping them. They’d be here in seconds.

  The man was down off the ladder and into the truck. He hunkered down, breathing hard, his rifle ready. Gil was down next, but he waited for Jo. He had his own rifle ready, aiming, shooting.

  As soon as Gil fired, the man in the back of the truck fired. Martin fired. Luke fired.

  More rippers were shot, falling down, tripping the ones up behind them. But another wave was coming.

  Gil yelled something at Jo, encouragement it sounded like to Luke.

  Jo was on the ground, hurrying with Gil to the back of the truck.

  The rippers were only twenty yards away. Petra revved the truck.

  The gunshots weren’t working—Luke had one last trick up his sleeve. He pulled out his last hand grenade and pulled the pin. He threw the grenade at the approaching mob as Gil helped Jo into the back of the truck. Luke beat on the top of the cab, signaling Petra to go.

  Petra took off, speeding away as the hand grenade exploded among the rippers, pieces of bodies flying everywhere, screams of terror and pain filling the air.

  A moment later they were at the ditch. Luke shot at rippers, but most of the horde had stayed back after the explosion, it had slowed them down just enough.

  They got through the ditch and through the parking lot, catching up to the other vehicles as they raced north and then east out of town, deeper into the mountains and deeper into the woods.

  CHAPTER 62

  Ray

  As soon as Mike swung the metal door open he fell backward.

  Emma started to scream, the sound so shocking to Ray.

  Two rippers from the hall rushed inside the doorway, one rushing Ray and Josh, the other turning toward Mike in the darkness to his left, hearing Mike’s movements as he crab walked back along the floor, dragging something metallic with him: either his gun or the flashlight, or both.

  “Over here!” Ray yelled at the two rippers. He kept the light shining on the two rippers even though he wanted to shine it at Mike to make sure he was okay, but he couldn’t spotlight Mike so the ripper could find him—he had to practically force himself to keep the light pointed at the doorway.

  There were more rippers beyond the two that had rushed inside, but those rippers were hesitating before entering, letting the first two come inside the room first. Ray was reminded of the trailer at the used car lot, how two of the rippers had entered, one at a time, fanning out, more strategic than before. The third had stayed outside, waiting for one of them to leave the trailer.

  Was that what they were doing now?

  The first ripper charged them, his eyes shining in the flashlight beam, arm raised, the knife clenched in his blood-soaked hand, blood caking his mouth and coating the blade of his knife, spots of blood on his chest and the ribbons of the button-down shirt that still hung on his shoulders. He’d been feasting on the dead rippers in the hallway, or maybe the fresher kill of Gerald.

  Josh couldn’t wait any longer—he pulled the trigger of the M-16, knocking the lead ripper back. The ripper collapsed with a look of shock on his face, his shiny eyes going glassy.

  The second ripper was going for Mike.

  Emma was still screaming.

  “Mike, get away from there!” Ray yelled. He kept his light aimed at the ripper as he darted across the open lab door—it took the light away from the doorway where other rippers waited in the darkness.

  Mike didn’t answer; he scrambled on the floor, fumbling with the gun in his hand. Three quick gunshots. Ray’s beam of light reached his son. Mike sat on the floor, his knees up in front of him, his arms outstretched, his gun clenched in both hands; he looked like he was going to tip over backwards in that position. He stared with wide eyes at the ripper he’d just killed, his mouth a tight grimace, his expression somewhere between terror and concentration.

  The ripper crumpled on the floor in front of Mike, groaning, moving, and then he was still.

  “Ray, the light!”

  Emma stopped screaming for just a moment to catch her breath, then she began again. It was an eerie sound in the darkness; it reminded Ray of the female rippers that wailed out a scream, almost like a siren calling the other rippers to attack. Was Emma trying to mimic that sound?

  Ray panned his light beam from the dead ripper and a shell-shocked Mike back to the doorway. Two more rippers rushed in, both yelling, their voices blending in with Emma’s nonstop screams.

  Josh fired his automatic rifle, fanning the gun back and forth slightly.

  “Get back!” Ray yelled at Mike, his voice drowned out between Emma and the rippers’ screams and the gunfire. He didn’t want Mike to get struck with a stray bullet or a ricochet from Josh’s M-16. Even though Luke had showed Josh how to fire the weapon, he was no expert with it.

  The two rippers were down just inside the doorway, both dead.

  Was that it? Only four of them?

  “Ray,” Josh said.

  He’d seen it: a flash of movement in the dark hallway.

  Josh was already bo
lting for the doorway, the M-16 clenched in his hands.

  Ray followed Josh—he needed to spot for him or Josh would never see the other ripper coming. But he couldn’t help shining the light at Mike as he ran toward the door.

  Mike wasn’t there anymore.

  Ray panned the light farther down the wall and spotted Mike next to the end of a desk. He still had his gun in his hands, his flashlight poking out of his jacket pocket. His eyes were still wide, his body still tense, but he seemed okay for now.

  “You all right?” Ray called out.

  “Yeah,” Mike croaked.

  Josh was out in the hallway, vanished in the darkness.

  Emma had finally stopped screaming. Everything was quiet except for the sounds of Josh in the hallway trying to move around in the dark.

  A screech from the hallway . . . running feet.

  “Ray!”

  Ray was out in the hall after jumping over the two dead rippers nearly blocking the doorway. In the hall Ray turned right, shining the light. No Josh. The sound was coming from the other way. He turned, the flashlight beam racing across the hallway wall and then illuminating Josh as he stood poised with the M-16 like an action-movie hero.

  The ripper, a middle-aged woman with her tangled hair flying around, rushed Josh with what looked like some kind of small machete, the blade dark with blood.

  Josh pulled the trigger, spraying the ripper with bullets, cutting her down in mid-step. The blast was so loud in the hallway it felt like Ray’s eardrums were going to explode. It sounded like the gun was still firing even though Josh had stopped shooting. The smell of gunfire lingered in the stale air of the bunker, but it was overpowered by the smells of blood and slaughter.

  Ray kept the light aimed at Josh. He could see beyond Josh only a little; the rest of the hallway, including Gerald’s body, was swallowed up in the darkness. He spun around, shining his flashlight down the hallway in the other direction. Then he shined his light at the doorway to the lab. He couldn’t see much beyond the doorway except the two dead bodies of the rippers; Emma and Mike were in there but he couldn’t see them. He could feel the panic building inside of him. He wanted to rush in the lab and check on them, but he needed to stay where he was; he needed to keep his flashlight shining, keep listening. But he couldn’t help thinking that a ripper had slipped inside the lab somehow while Josh had been shooting. He knew it was irrational, impossible, but he couldn’t get the nightmare thought out of his mind.