by Burgy, P. J.
The fire began to spread to the church, the rover vehicle attempting to back up and out of the hole it had smashed into the side of the old, rotting building, even as the flames licked up and around it. It was a Brethren rover, she could tell by the markings and the shape and design. The Wailers swarmed. There had to be twenty, thirty of them. Maybe more. Pale bodies, some strong and lithe, others huge and muscular, ran in from behind and began to pull at the vehicle, trying to jump on the flaming roof only to leap back and away. The things were massing, shrieking and screaming in a frenzy, and then they managed to turn the vehicle over onto its side, away from the burning church.
It had been a long time since she had seen one them rip a door off a rover. A massive Infected, pale skinned with pale hair, wrenched the side hatch off, seemingly unaffected by the fire that was engulfing part of the vehicle. The shrieking grew louder and there was screaming. Not Wailer screaming but human screaming. She had to look away, close the curtains, when she saw a man being pulled out by his neck.
The shrieking and screaming melded into a horrific cacophony of terror and pain. Another human scream. It kept on, persisting. Those poor bastards hadn’t been killed yet. They were screaming and screaming. Ripping sounds. Screaming. Crunching and snapping. Screaming. Kara sat by the window, her back to the wall, and covered her ears, closing her eyes. She leaned forward toward her bent knees and ground her teeth, wishing for the sounds to stop. Muffled screams cut off, the shrieking of the Infected growing less frenetic, lowering in volume as the things presumably now had meat to fill their mouths.
As terrible as the Brethren were, no one deserved to go that way.
She heard her heart pounding in her ears, and opened her eyes. Trap was transfixed, his teeth exposed, huddled up to the couch with his body toward her and his tail between his legs. She could see that he was growling. When she brought her hands away from her ears, she could hear his snarling.
The dog was staring at the closed window, shaking hard. She braced herself, fear stiffening her spine as she slowly moved to peak past the curtain. The breeze blew in through the window and the smell of burning rubber and scorched wood drifted in. She smelled gasoline. She also smelled something sickly sweet and disgusting. Swallowing thickly, she parted the curtains ever so slightly to look outside.
The fire burned higher now, the Wailers swarming around the crashed, turned over vehicle. Some were crouched, others were shambling around and attacking their own for bits of viscera to chew on. They’d torn the Brethren apart. She could see the Infected, their shadows long and wavering in the dancing fire that was eating away at the church. It was hypnotic to watch, and she stared at the scene, unable to look away.
She heard a wail, loud and keening, and her eyes caught sight of a single, pale body that had shambled over toward her intersection, the Wailer standing in the street across from the apartment building. It was looking up, its mouth hanging open. It was looking at her, where she crouched by the window. Somehow, the thing had seen her, and she seized up. Just as quickly, it charged at the building.
Kara didn’t wait for it to get to her. She went to Trap and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck to get him moving out of the living room. Just as she was pulling him to the door, she heard the agonized moaning of the fire escapes outside. Then, she heard the metal cry out and whine.
The Wailers were shrieking, the sound of the crashing fire escapes against the sidewalk below merging with their frantic calls of distress and rage. Nothing was coming through the window, so she ran to look, and saw that the fire escapes had collapsed under the weight of the five or six Infected that had tried to scale the ladders to get at her. The platform under her window was now gone, though the ones below and to the right were still functional, and the fire escapes above her hadn’t pulled away either.
The Wailers down on the ground were flailing, twisting to get to their feet. One or two were trapped in the tangles of the metal platforms and ladders, contorting and writhing as their own kind stepped on or over them. They were looking for another way up, screaming up at her with their metallic, wavering voices.
She ran back to grab at Trap, who was still shaking and bristled up. As she hoisted the dog into her arms, she heard the sound of smashing glass from below. They’d gotten in through a window. If they were going to come up, it would be through the building. She could hear them crying out, and it sounded closer.
Not wanting to risk the hallway, she scoured the room and looked down at the hole in the floor. The apartment below would be on street level, wouldn’t it? Which windows had the things burst in through? She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t hear their screams coming from directly under her.
They were somewhere else in the building, trying to get up. Holding Trap, she ran to the window to take another glance outside, and spotted the other Wailers at the crashed car. There were only a few left, and those were still occupied with eating. They hadn’t seen her or been interested in joining the others for their hunt. However, there were far fewer Wailers out at the vehicle than there had been before. The others were either coming after her, or had run off somewhere else.
Her options limited, Kara went to the hole in the living room floor and swallowed. She heard the Wailers bashing into something close by and grimaced, tightening her jaw. She tried to lower Trap down and he pawed at her, whining and whimpering as she tried to drop him down into the darkness below.
“I’m sorry, boy. I’m sorry. It’s going to be okay,” she said, hoping the dog could understand and believe the words. She wished that she could believe them too.
She hated to drop him, knowing there would be a good seven foot plummet into the void. What if he broke a leg? What if there was something down there waiting for him? No, the Wailers would have been screaming and trying to climb up through the hole if they’d been down there.
She closed her eyes and forced Trap down even as he struggled to get a hold with his paws. He fell down and she heard him yelp. Her insides twisted at the sound and she grimaced. Grabbing for her flashlight, she turned it to red and sat down on the floor, dipping her legs into the hole. She heard the Wailers, closer now, and she dropped down into the apartment below. It was a soft but awkward landing on a child’s twin bed. It broke under her, the bedframe splitting and the legs snapping.
Trap whimpered when she caught him in the red light, pacing the floor anxiously but otherwise unharmed. It was a little boy’s room, the walls falling apart and the floor trashed with plaster dusted clothing and toys. The mold smell was strong, the bedroom door closed. To her left, a window, the glass missing and the curtains gone. The street was outside, facing the eerie bonfire the church had become.
She again grabbed at Trap, picking him up, and she sneaked out through the window. The Wailers were above her somewhere, shrieking and bashing in doors. They’d seen that she’d been on the second floor and were amassing there, trying to find her. In the time that it took her to step out onto the sidewalk and turn down the alley to begin running, they’d most likely figured out she was missing.
She could hear their angry wails rise up like sirens in the night. She set the dog down and began to run alongside him, but he began outpacing her and fled into the darkness. She wanted to yell out, to call him back to her, but she couldn’t without risking attention. He disappeared, and she was left to run alone in the streets, trying to find another place to hide.
A false sense of hope had crept into the back of her mind, lulling her into believing that, just for a moment, she had nothing to worry about save for finding a closed door to get behind. The sound of the wailing behind her cut that thought short, and she stole a glance back the way she’d come to see the pale shapes of the Wailers chasing her in the dim moonlight. She was a good as dead now, fast as she was.
Her legs would tire long before she could lose them, and though she had a head start, they were gaining on her fast. Five of them, perhaps six, clambered after her down the alley, and Kara shined her red light ahead, despera
tely looking for another way to go. The UV would be worthless if she were surrounded. All she could do was run. She dodged left and went down a side street, nearly tripping over some debris in her way.
Kara made a hard left, skidding on the wet concrete. Cars were littered in her path and she went around them, hoping the obstacles would slow the Wailers down. When she looked back again, she saw that the things were leaping from car top to car top, or weaving between the rusty husks.
Up ahead, there was an open intersection, debris from a fallen building filling up some of the street on her right. She charged ahead, awaiting the inevitable. She would feel the fingernails digging into her, a pressure pulling her down to the ground, and then, they would tear her to pieces while she kicked and screamed, eaten alive. She prayed that it would be quick, and grabbed for her machete. Maybe, it would be better to do it herself, end it before they caught up to her.
She heard something behind her, a gagging, strained vocalization, like someone being punched in the guts. Then, a heavy crunch. There was a shriek, and another terrible wet crack. She tried to turn to look, pointing her red light behind, and staggered, nearly losing her footing.
He was facing away from her, his hood up, his crowbar brandished in his gloved hand. Russell stood between Kara and five crouching Wailers, the sixth buried into the side of a hollowed out car, blood seeping down and puddling on the asphalt below. She stumbled, unsure whether to keep running or to stay with him.
Instinct told her to turn and flee, but she felt frozen to the spot. She watched him avoid a blow from a swinging arm, his dodge fast, too fast. He bashed that Infected in the skull, taking it down, and then stomped on the back of its neck just as another pounced at him. He kicked it square in the center of its chest and somehow knocked it back a few yards.
She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The Wailers seemed confused, their mouths hanging open and their dark eyes rolling around in their sockets. They kept trying to look at Kara, to lunge at her, and Russell blocked their way each time. The things were attempting to form a circle, to surround them.
He caught another as it went for her, seemingly trying to bypass the man standing in its way, and he flipped it over, slamming it down to the cracked asphalt onto its back. He brought the crowbar down, driving the metal right through the Infected’s chest. Blood sprayed and the Wailer thrashed in its death throes just as he threw an arm out, caught the next Wailer at the neck as it jumped at him, and pushed it back. He took a few steps back toward Kara, his visor glowing red in her light.
His words were breathy. “I told you. I told you to leave.”
“You’re phenomenal,” she whispered.
The remaining Wailers yowled and shrieked, the sound of others returning their call sounding in the night. Russell muttered something under his breath and then turned on his heel. He ran to her, grabbing her by the upper arm, and yanked her along with him before she could figure out what he was doing. He pulled her along, forcing her to run at a speed that felt unnatural, her footing loose, her legs unstable. She nearly fell, Russell carrying her weight for those few seconds, and she felt him give her a swift, powerful tug as his arm hooked around her middle and came up under her armpit.
How he was supporting her, she didn’t know. Russell had appeared tall, wide, strong, but the way he ran, the way he moved, it didn’t make sense. She still tried to catch the ground with her sneakers, and she managed to get a few touches here and there, but he was lifting her up, keeping her from running.
He took her down an alley, across a street, down another alley. She tried to shine her flashlight toward whatever direction they were traveling, but the spotlight was bouncing around like mad. The Wailers behind them were still following, but they were further back, no longer nipping at their heels.
“Russell?”
“Shh!” he hissed.
He took them over a pile of debris with a grace more befitting of a cat than a man. Over a car roof, right to the ground again, and toward a parking garage. They entered, ran through the first level, and he jumped over the barrier, falling with her the seven feet to the sidewalk below. She had little time to process what was happening, but she watched them go over the barrier and prepared to plummet to the hard concrete and break a leg. Russell’s landing was soft and he immediately carried her down an alley before she could yelp in surprise.
Kara uttered one word. “How?”
He grunted. “I’ll never understand. I just never will.”
“How-”
He continued to mutter under his breath. “Suicidal, crazy, I’ll never understand.”
She felt him slowing and she was able to get her footing, running along with him. The sound of the Wailers behind them had grown fainter. He continued to run with her and they came out onto a wider street, avoiding the cars littered in their way.
She saw a sign up above and ahead of them, glowing red and bright, the letters large and visible from the hundreds of yards they had to be from the building. The red letters spelling out a single word, “SALVATION”, flickering on top of the skeleton of a building. It was a construction site, a fence surrounding the grounds. Kara pointed toward it. “That way!”
“It doesn’t matter which way we go.”
Despite his reply, Russell took her right toward the construction site as the Wailers behind them grew louder, closing the distance. He dragged her along with him, his thick, steel cord of an arm giving her a boost as he picked up the pace, her feet leaving the ground once more.
They ran through an open section in the fence, passing skids of rotten lumber and old power equipment, bent ladders and large trash bins. She saw a tall piece of machinery, like a crane but so much longer in the neck. Cement blocks had fallen, broken into pieces. He pulled her toward the foundation of the building, toward the columns of metal and cement. Kara looked up and saw hanging scaffolding above, the red letters near the incomplete roof warm and inviting.
Russell took her into the half finished first level of the building, the floor above missing the ceiling, the grid of beams and scaffolding running up and across the sections far above their head. Kara shined her red light around until Russell came to a hard stop, the inertia throwing her center of gravity off balance. She dropped her flashlight and it rolled off, spraying the beams and concrete pillars around them with an eerie red glow.
Russell pulled her close. “Oh no.”
The Wailers had caught up to them, jumping and climbing into the rafters and scaffolding. She could see them in the moonlight, and in the faint red glow from high above. Their pale bodies contorted, the muscles flexing and tightening as they moved in closer. There were about seven of them, she saw as she attempted a quick count, spinning her head back and forth as far as she could in both directions. She tried to pull away from Russell’s iron grip, reaching for her machete. She heard the Wailers hissing.
These ones were different, not like the mindless monsters that charged and attacked without hesitation. The Infected were moving in, circling them, hunting like a pack. Kara found herself staring at one in particular, a female with long, black hair wearing the stained remains of a two-piece nightie. Her jaws dripped with black bile, her features twisted in rage. Those eyes weren’t devoid of light. An intelligence gleamed back at Kara, and she felt her insides knot when it smiled at her.
Russell tugged Kara to the side. “We’ve got to go.”
Three of the Wailers on the ground made a rush toward them, Kara grabbing the handle of her knife and pulling it out. Something metallic and shiny dropped into her peripheral, and she turned to see a cylinder of long glass tubes fall from above, thick black wires attached like a rope leading up into the scaffolding.
Suddenly, the construction site was bathed in blinding, purple light. The Wailers closest to them screeched and fell back, scrambling to get away as their skin burned, turning red and bubbling. The others, further away, wailed in pain and retreated. Two more of the cylinders of UV lights fell from above, flashed on and s
wung in the air.
“No,” Russell breathed, and pulled Kara away. Then he tensed, made a terrible sound in his throat, and fell to the ground. He would have brought her face down into the gravel with him if his arm hadn’t first gone lax and dropped away from her.
“Russ!” She ran to his side, dropping down to shake his shoulders. Shadows flitted across the ground and she looked up and around, trying to find their source. The lights were so bright that she could see little past their glow.
He gagged. He tried to move, to push himself up from the dirt, knees working and head lifting. He was heavy, his bicep rock hard as she grabbed at him and strained to get him to his feet.
Her eyes focused in on the small canister sticking out of his back and she wrapped her fingers around the thing, drawing a huge dart out of his flesh. “What-”
A male voice, deep and melodic spoke, “Back away from it, my child.”
“Who are you? Are you helping us? What did you do to my friend?” She cried out, eyes squinting as she tried to make out the dark shapes that were moving above her in the scaffolds. There were multiple man sized forms up there. “Hello?”
“Back away from the abomination,” the voice spoke.
“Who are you? What do you want?” she asked.
Someone grabbed her from behind, her backpack shoved hard into her spine as strong arms wrapped around her, hooked her elbows and attempted to subdue her. Not about to be caught, she kicked the ground to shove herself back to throw her assailant off balance. For a second, it appeared to work.
She twisted around, coming face to face with a gray visor and a black mask with a beak, like a bird. She struggled to squirm out of the strong grasp. She felt her left leg go as her attacker kicked the back of her knee and brought her down to the hard gravel, forcing her to kneel. She yelled as she felt them press down on her.
