The Plague Runner

by Burgy, P. J.

  Father Isaac turned, looking to his dark-haired son, and then returned his gaze to Kara. “I see.”

  “Are you not pleased, father?” Simon asked.

  Father Isaac smiled softly. “I am. I am very pleased. Simon, did you share the Word with her?”

  “I did, father,” Simon replied.

  Elijah appeared behind his father and brother, hanging back a few feet, standing with the other Purgers. His gaze was locked onto Kara. He could hear them, she was sure of that. His expression was hard to read, his brows knit. She avoided making eye contact with him and instead smiled at Father Isaac.

  “Kara, my child, I am glad that you've made this choice, but, in my heart, I already knew that you would. I really did,” Father Isaac said. Then, still holding his mask and hat, he embraced her, arms wrapped tightly around her as Kara held her hands out, surprised.

  Simon cleared his throat. “I suppose I knew too, father.”

  Father Isaac released Kara, stepping back and away from her. He looked to his dark-haired son and nodded his head. Then, Father Isaac embraced Simon. “I had doubted you. I am sorry.”

  “I understand why you did,” Simon said. “I hadn't given you much reason not to.”

  “Still,” Father Isaac said, pulling away from his son. He held his mask in his hand, looked it over, and then turned his attention to the other Purgers. “In the darkest of times, even the best of us lose our light. We are blinded by our own shortsightedness. Our own biases. There was a lesson in all of this. Eli, did you hear? Kara has joined us.”

  “I heard,” Elijah replied from where he stood.

  “Well, come over here. Elijah, welcome Kara in,” Father Isaac said.

  Elijah pondered on the request for a moment, his face fallen and his lips parted. He stepped over to her, closing the distance between them as the two stared at one another. She licked her lips, trying to smile to him. Despite his hesitation, he still hugged her. Elijah pulled her in close, his chin on her shoulder. Kara felt his warmth and closed her eyes.

  “For however it came to be, I am glad for it too,” Elijah whispered to her.

  “I'm sorry,” she said.

  “You have no reason to be sorry,” Elijah told her.

  She studied his face as he pulled away, and she swallowed, nodding her head.

  “I brought her, brother,” Simon said.

  “I am proud of you, Simon,” Elijah stated. “Welcome home, Kara.”

  “Ah, well, though I would love to take tonight off in celebration of Kara's decision, and throw a welcoming party, that will have to wait until tomorrow. I'll make it worth it, I promise.” Father Isaac raised his voice, a laugh escaping him. “We cannot lose another minute. Come. The night awaits us.”

  “I will be back in six hours,” Simon said to Kara, coming close to her.

  Elijah and Father Isaac had left them, the Purgers moving into the lobby as Simon remained with Kara for just a few moments longer. Kara grinned at him, touching the side of his face.

  “Be safe," she said.

  “I will,” Simon replied, smiling, and then stepped away.

  She leaned into the lobby, watching them at the doorway. Simon had pushed his way to the front, digging into his vestments for something. Her heart caught in her chest.

  “Did you leave your keys in your room, brother?” Elijah asked.

  “It seems I have,” Simon answered.

  “I have mine. No worries,” Elijah said.

  She exhaled.

  They left, pouring out into the night, forty-five of them in all. She'd counted while they marched out through the double doors, the guards on either side. The faint purple glow of the UV lights reflected in her eyes as she stared, watching, leaning in the doorway to the lobby. She waited there until the last Purger had gone outside and the guards turned toward her. Then, she pivoted on her heel and slipped away, back to the dining area.

  Two hours had passed since the Purgers had left Salvation and the halls were silent as the grave. The few left behind in the complex were in their rooms, sleeping off their dinner and dreaming of the evening sermon. That is what Kara imagined that they were doing, at least. There would be guards monitoring the hall, taking their rounds at certain intervals and stalking down the corridors, looking left and right before going upstairs, or downstairs. She'd been watching them too, learning their schedule. They walked too fast, complacent in their fortress of UV light. They'd grown comfortable in the safety of Salvation.

  There would be a solid half hour block of time where the two guards in the lobby would be at the doors looking for movement and the ones who patrolled Salvation would be upstairs checking on the green house and down in the barn respectively. There would be a block of time where the dining hall and the doors downstairs would be left unguarded. This was her time to move. She had to be quick.

  There came a sound, like sharp hissing, a sputtering noise, somewhere close by and one of the guards, a burly man in his late forties, tilted his head, his eyes narrowing, then glanced to his compatriot, a younger, pale fellow with long hair tied back into a bun.

  “Do you hear that?” the older man asked.

  “Hear what, brother?”

  “Sounds like a gas leak.”

  “No gas lines in Salvation, old man.” The younger one chuckled. “It's your imagination. I don't hear anything.”

  “You are deaf, Collin,” the older man said. “Of course, you can't hear it.”

  “My eyes are good enough.”

  “Useless without ears. It's coming from the dining hall.”

  “Then go have a look, old man. I'll keep the hordes back all by myself.” Collin laughed.

  “Sure, you will. Man the doors then.” The burly man stalked off to the dining hall, stepping into the large room with the long tables and benches. At first glance, it looked to be in order, but then, his ears brought his attention to the right, to the wall with the windows, the UV lights glowing brightly on the other side of the glass.

  There, stacked on the floor, container after container, block after block, fifty, sixty packages of it all, he saw the explosives and the lit end of the fuse as it reached its destination.

  The old man began to cry out.

  The explosion rocked the entire building, the wall disintegrated in a plume of fire and debris, the cement bursting, the sound deafening.

  Kara was downstairs when Salvation shook and she covered her ears. Bits of the ceiling rained down on her and she continued onward, into the generator room.

  She began to pull the wires out from the machines, away from the walls. She yanked cables until they came free. Then, when the emergency UV and red lights flickered on, she disconnected the last generator and the entire facility went black. She pulled the flashlight she'd stolen out from her pocket, shining a bright white light across the room and floor. Up there, in the midst of the chaos from the explosion, she heard the shrieking of the Infected, out in the night, in the darkness, as they came to swarm upon Salvation.

  Simon's keys dangled from her fingers as she ran to the door at the end of the hall and made her way down to the cleansing rooms. She was praying, to any god or gods or powers that be, that he was still alive. Let him still be alive.

  Her legs carried her fast and soon she was at his room, shining the light through the dirty glass at him. Russell was hanging there in his cuffs, as limp and lifeless as he'd been the first time she'd seen him. Opening the door, she went in. The stink was overwhelming, and she raided the closet in the torture chamber, grabbing for a face mask and gloves.

  Spinning on her heel, dressed in the protective clothing, she turned the light onto him and saw that he was indeed alive. He was looking at her, eyes feral, lips pulled back, black dripping down his chin.

  She hesitated and then forced herself to him, reaching up with the keys and struggling to hold them while still aiming the flashlight at the lock. Simon had six keys on the chain and she tried three before one worked and the cuff unclasped. His arm fell to hi
s side and he slouched. She went to the other cuff and undid it, and he caught himself, beginning to stand.

  There was something inside of her, a voice that told her to run, to get out of the room, but she did not. She turned from him, grabbing at his shirt on the floor, now more a bloody, tattered rag than clothing. His coat lay crumpled up nearby, stained with black bile. The visor of her mask was fogging up as her breathing grew erratic, and she spun around, holding his shirt up to him only to gasp when she realized he was inches away, his huge black pupils scanning her gas mask. Then, he took the shirt and put it on.

  He leaned in again, towering over her. “You should have left when I told you to.”

  “I know," she said.

  “How did you-”

  “No time. We have to get out of here.” She backed away toward the door to the cleansing room, pointing her flashlight toward the glass.

  “A well-thought-out plan, I see,” he muttered, opening the cabinet near the rack he'd been hanging from. He took out a frock and put it on. The thing was too tight on him and Russell tore the shoulders while forcing it on. He looked over at her. “I'll save you again then.”

  “I saved you this time,” she hissed.

  “You put me here.”

  “This isn't the time.”

  “And I don't have the energy.” He growled, getting close to her again. In the beam of the flashlight, he looked gaunt, his eyes bigger than Kara remembered them being. He looked dangerous, his lips pulled tight over his teeth, his black spit shining, and when he spoke his voice sounded strained. “Turn it to red. Come on.”

  She switched the light to red just as the shrieks from the Infected began to grow so loud that they had to be coming from directly above, in the ruins of Salvation. There were human screams mixed in now as well, and she went with him into the corridor.

  “Weapons?” he asked, voice low.

  “No.”

  “Wonderful.”

  They'd gotten ten feet from the room when an Infected toppled into the hall in front of them, the thing crying out as it spotted Kara. It came charging toward them both, but was intercepted by Russell, who grabbed it by the head and smashed its skull into the cement wall beside him several times. He left it to die while she chased after him.

  A battle raged above them and when they reached the next floor up a Purger met them in the corridor at their first turn. It was a fast fight, Kara watching as Russell bashed at the hunter, ripping an arm off as the man screamed in pain and terror, and threw him down to the ground to bleed out. Russell stood still, body shaking as he stared down at the dying man.

  He crouched over the body, Kara readying herself to see something awful, something she didn't want to witness. Russell's hand lingered over the dead Purger's mask, and then he grabbed it, yanking it away from the man's face. In one smooth motion, he fastened the mask to himself, and turned to regard Kara from behind the dark glass of the visor. Then, they moved on, making their way to the stairs.

  Salvation was burning, a hole in her side, the Infected pouring into her from the darkness. The UV lights were out and the remaining Purgers were fighting back the horde, screaming and shrieking with the Wailers. There were more Purgers there than Kara had expected, and she recognized the green, striped frock of Simon as she ran with Russell toward the unguarded front door.

  She heard her name, Simon's scream disappearing behind the wails and the roaring flames that devoured the old wood of the chapel. Then, they were out on the street, Russell suddenly clutching her to himself, close and tight against his side as he sprinted away from Salvation.

  A strange, sorrowful wail surprised Kara, and Russell paused to search for the source of the cry. Six or seven Infected stalked close around them only to look away and charge at the Purgers engaged with their brethren. Russell had stopped, surprised, and turned to look behind. Salvation was teeming with bodies, the fire burning violently, smoke rising in huge pillars and plumes into the night sky.

  UV light hit Russell, his mask shielding his face, but his ears and the back of his head were exposed and he pulled back from Kara, trying to hold his arm up against the burning. She swung around, saw the figures approaching, and stepped in front of him.

  Simon came at her, holding the UV lights in one hand and a sword in the other. “Whore! Lying whore! I'll kill you!”

  “Brother, wait!” Elijah cried out, in close pursuit of Simon.

  Simon swung his blade at Kara, and Russell shoved himself in between. The sword sunk into his shoulder, the sound wet and horrible. Russell shrieked behind his mask, like a Wailer would, high, piercing, and metallic. Then, Russell slammed his good arm into Simon, knocking the UV light away and sending it to shatter on the ground. With a single blow, Russell sent Simon tumbling ten feet back. Simon fought to his feet, jaunting forward again.

  He attempted to plunge the sword into Russell's midsection. She saw him twist, easily avoiding being skewered by the blade. Simon was acting erratically, his movements sloppy in his blind rage.

  “Abomination!” Simon screamed.

  More Purgers had begun to run in their direction, the Infected attacking them in turn and leaving Kara to stare at the battle before her. The Infected didn’t seem to care about her, or Russell. It was like they couldn’t see them.

  A cry of pain pulled her attention back to Russell, where she saw him on the ground, an arrow in his chest. Elijah, his crossbow held aloft, stood further back, hovering around the fight as if unsure of who to attack.

  Rage took her and funneled all her energy into a mad dash toward Simon, who was getting ready to swing his sword down into Russell's back while he struggled to push himself back up. She bashed into him with her shoulder, her head down, and she felt him lose his balance, his sword hitting the pavement and skittering out of his reach. Her legs were strong and sure, and so she did it again, and Simon fell, rolled and then grabbed for his dropped blade.

  Elijah fired another arrow from his crossbow, and it hit close to the hilt of the blade just as Simon wrapped his fingers around the grip. He ripped his own mask off, stepping close.

  “Let her go, brother! We have to save the others!” Elijah cried out.

  “No! Look at what she's done. She's killed us all!” Simon yelled, tearing his mask off as well. The two brothers stared at each other, Simon heaving. Then, Simon turned and kicked Kara in the chest as she attempted to grab his sword from his hand. She tumbled backward, hitting the ground and then jumped back onto her feet as Simon rushed her.

  “Leave her!” Elijah hollered.

  Russell lunged at Simon and a second arrow pierced his ribs, bringing Russell down hard. Kara called his name, stopping herself from stumbling over to him. She remembered the other Wailers, and frantically scanned the area to see if they were surrounded yet.

  The Wailers were pouring out of the city, converging on Salvation as it burned, moving around Kara, Russell, and the two brothers like a river parting around large stones.

  Russell forced himself to kneel and, with one grisly motion, pulled the arrow in his shoulder out and threw it on the ground. He snarled.

  “Just go!” Elijah boomed, pointing his crossbow at Russell. “Take her, and just go!”

  “No!” Simon roared, his sword held aloft as he charged at Kara, ready to bring the blade down onto her. At the last moment, he fell, dropped his sword and rolled to the side, an arrow in his back.

  Elijah stood behind him, crossbow lowering, eyes lost.

  “Eli…” Kara whispered.

  “Go. Just. Go.” Elijah ran to his brother's side.

  Kara staggered over to Russell and he dragged himself up to his feet, unbalanced but standing. He hooked his good arm around her middle and began to drag her away as she pulled from him, wanting to go back to Elijah. Russell would not release her.

  The last Kara saw of Elijah, he was cradling his brother close, his forehead pressed against Simon's as Salvation crumbled, the flames reaching higher into the sky with the Wailers shrieking as
they ran in from every alley and street. The light of the fire grew dimmer and dimmer as Russell half carried her down the street, until, finally, they turned a corner and the red lens of her flashlight became her only guide in the darkness.

  Chapter Eight

  Kara felt his strength fading and she had to bear more and more of his weight until she was eventually forced to let him crumple to the ground. It was still dark, but dawn would be coming within the next few hours. They'd been hobbling together that long, a trail of his blood left in their wake.

  “Russ,” she muttered, trying to get him up again.

  He gurgled at her.

  She shined the red light on him, seeing the broken glass of his visor and his bloodshot eye rolling back into his skull. He made a gagging sound, the smell of whatever he'd choked up getting through her gas mask and sickening her.

  “Come on, Russ. Come on. Don't die on me, man,” she whispered, pulling on his good arm. “Please. Get up. Just a little further, okay?”

  “Sun will be up.” His voice sounded ragged.

  “In a few hours, yeah. Come on.” She put her weight into heaving him up to his feet. He was able to stumble forward a few feet before needing to rest against her again. “Come on, big guy.”

  He made another wretched sound and black bile poured from behind the mask, down the front of his torn frock. Kara gagged too, feeling vomit rising in her throat.

  “Need to eat. I'm tired. So tired," he said.

  “We'll get you food, Russ. Just need to find somewhere to hide.”

  Up ahead, there were abandoned, crumbling businesses, and she frowned. They were going in the opposite direction from where she wanted to be. They were leaving the city, and she needed to go deeper in. Now though, she had to tend to Russell. She wouldn't get far without him, and he wasn't going to get very far without her.

  Another hour or so had gone by and the horizon to the east was beginning to lighten. He made terrible sounds, whimpering as she dragged him along. He was so heavy that her body threatened to give out as well. She scanned the area ahead of her for shelter, no longer needing her flashlight. The sky was going to be bright blue soon, the sun cresting behind the buildings far off. The shadows would run long and Russell would burn.