by Matt James
Not wanting to point out that the Unseen are blind and make her feel bad, I agree and hand her a matching black jacket and beanie.
“The night everything went to hell, we heard shouting and gunfire outside the doors. I’m not sure if any people will still be around now, but I guess it’s better safe than sorry at this point.”
Ah. She’s right. If there are any more gunmen around, the all-black attire will definitely help with stealth. And now I feel like a prick thinking she was an idiot.
I inwardly shrug. If anything, she’ll match, and her ass and legs will look spectacular. To those of us with eyes, that is.
I actually smile at the thoughts I’m having. They haven’t been this…provocative…in a while—years maybe. The realization that I could have actually lost Jill forever, like those of the dead city, has passionately rekindled my love for her.
My wanting of her… My need for her.
I may never admit this out loud, but my wife completes me in ways I never thought possible. The sensitive side is just mind-boggling considering I thought the two of us were just treading water, emotionally dead. There hasn’t been any real passion for quite some time.
Like what happened last night before we passed out in each other’s arms.
Shaking away the vision of her vulnerable form, I grip the door handle and step out. I’m instantly greeted by a pulsating red light, shining through the store’s glass doors like the sun would a stained-glass window. It then warbles like before, almost like it’s coming to life.
“When?” I ask, unable to formulate a full question.
“It’s why I got dressed,” Jill says, leading me back out into the store. “I was going to wake you after I finished getting ready.” She throws on the sock hat, adjusting it slightly. “We were only asleep for about few hours. It’s just after midnight, but the sky is lit like it’s noon.”
High-noon in the Underworld maybe...
I stomp forward and exit one of the long rows of shoes and see that Vinny and Carla are awake too. Carla is in a similar style getup as Jill, minus the all black. She’s adorned in a kaleidoscope of florescent running colors.
Like a peacock made of highlighters, I think, trying to hold back my smile.
“What?” Carla asks, catching me.
Fail.
“Nothing,” I say, turning to Jill, flickering my eyebrows, “you look…great.”
Not sensing my jab, Carla turns back to what she was doing, leaving me alone with Jill and Vinny.
“Abaddon?” I ask Vinny, who has also added a beanie to his own head. His hair is pulled back, giving me a solid view of his bandaged face and neck.
He nods. “I opened the doors just enough to check. It’s awake again.”
“Not good.”
“Again?” Jill asks.
“Yep, it flashed us like this right before we were attacked at the museum. It sent the mass of creatures for us. It wasn’t a fluke or anything else. At least I don’t think it’s a coincidence.” I look into Jill’s eyes, so she fully understands the ramifications of what I’m about to say. “I’m not sure how, but I believe it was a coordinated assault.”
Her mouth hangs open. “It’s alive?”
I shrug. “Not entirely sure if it’s what we Earthlings would call alive, but something is sure as hell leading these things around the city. It’s only recently that we put two-and-two together. Before then, I thought it was just shit luck.” I turn back to the relocked doors. “Now… I’m not so sure.”
“Frank,” Jill says, grabbing my arm, scared. “We need to get off this island.”
I comb out my hair with my fingers, breathing in deep, doing my best to not grimace in pain at having to lift my shredded left arm. “Okay,” I say through gritted teeth, “if we’re going to do this, we’re going to need to move fast.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Carla says, motioning to her new running shoes.
“Wasn’t talking about you two.”
I unclip the half-empty ammo belt from across my chest and then take off my jacket. The latter gets a gasp from the girls. Vinny doesn’t react, though. He’s seen me in worse shape. My upper arm is covered in drying blood, the puncture wounds having been opened again, soaking the sleeve of my thermal. The puncture wounds, plus the original cut in my shoulder from the broken glass, makes it look like I went toe-to-toe with a Bengal tiger.
Jill’s eyes ask the question for her.
“I’m fine. Could use a new shirt though.” She runs off, still listening. “Remember when the siren rode our truck like a surfboard?” She’s facing away from me, but her head nods. “I haven’t been able to let it heal properly with all the running and what have you. It’ll be fine once we are finished here.”
“I think there’s a first-aid kit in the back,” Carla says, leaving us, Vinny going with her.
I try to remove my other layers, but I can’t get my arm high enough to get either the undershirt or the thermal off. Silently, Jill steps over and helps, taking some of the pressure off my limb.
Once I get both shirts off, Jill really gets to see what I’ve been through. “Frank…” Her eyes tear up again, but I hold up my good hand.
“It looks worse than it is.”
Lie.
My body is locking up as the hours go by. I was loose up until recently, but once I laid down the muscles relaxed and then stiffened. Now, everything is as tight as a wound spring. It’s actually the first I’ve seen myself without a shirt off since Harvey’s, but the bruising from the fire escape fiasco hadn’t set in yet.
She gently touches my discolored ribs, getting a groan and a twitch from me.
“Sorry,” she says, stepping back.
“No, it’s fine. Ticklish, remember?”
She doesn’t smile. She just returns to my side and looks me over some more. “How…” She looks into my eyes. “How did you do it? There’s no way I would have made it.”
Before I can answer her, Carla and Vinny break up our little powwow and reenter the sales floor, bearing the gift of aid.
Even Vinny looks worried, seeing the onset of my yellow and purple bruising. I can’t read Carla since she won’t look at me for more than a second. This is probably all too much for her, and she’s doing whatever she can to keep it together. Seeing my destroyed body might send her over the edge.
“I’ll do it,” Jill says, taking the plastic box marked with a red cross. She opens it quickly and finds my arch nemesis… “This is probably going to hurt.”
Damn you rubbing alcohol. Damn you to hell.
The light outside intensifies as I think the word hell.
Great, it can read my thoughts too.
The room shakes, making Carla screech and all but leap into Vinny’s arms, stumbling him slightly. He holds her as the place continues to quake, tipping over storefront displays and dozens of shoeboxes.
No one says a word. We just stare at each other, not wanting to know what just happened. I look down at my arm and then to Jill.
“Better hurry with that. We need to go.”
34
The good news is I didn’t whimper like a scolded puppy. The bad news… Now, we have to run again. I watch as Vinny grabs the front door’s lock, about to flick it open, but I stop him.
“Hang on.”
He turns, eyeing me.
“Leave it locked,” I say, motioning to the rear of the store. “We’ll go out the back—through the loading dock.”
Biting his lip, he nods. “Through the alleys?”
It’s my turn to nod. “Yeah. Plus, if we do have to shoot something, the close quarters of the buildings will at least lessen the echo of the gunshot.”
I don’t need the opposite to happen again.
The thought of my encounter with the Unseen behind the library floods into my head.
Running to the nearest apartment building.
Shooting out the front glass, then leaping through.
The sprint up the blood-splattered stairs
.
The scantily clad siren with the gore-filled bed.
Blinking it away, I quickly move through the store, into the stockroom. The sound of multiple footfalls tells me the others are right on my butt.
“Geez,” Carla says, passing where Jill and I slept, “you guys made a mess back here.”
Jill blushes, but I don’t react. I’m too lost in thought, planning out our next move. If we can keep heading west, sticking close to the buildings, we may have a chance to stay somewhat concealed. Any way of minimizing our exposure to the elements—monsters included—is my number one priority right now. I don’t want us to have to shoot it out with anything if we can help it.
“We need to move quickly, but stay quiet.” I unlatch the rear door and put my hand on the push bar, but stop. “We’re only half a block from Broadway. It’s a much bigger street, and we’ll be exposed for longer.” I look back-and-forth to Jill and Carla, not needing to remind Vinny. “Stay on my heels and don’t stop.”
Not looking for a response of any kind—it wouldn’t have mattered either way—I push. The metal security door clicks, swinging open with little resistance. It’s the complete opposite of the back door at the library, but then I remember this block got a renovation recently, bringing everything up to code this past summer.
A bloom of red-tinted light hits me but is mostly filtered out by the gathering of shadows the tall structures surrounding us creates. The tip of my shotgun barely pokes through the exit as I wait, just in case something noticed the movement and sound. If anything does come for us right now, the doorway will cause a log jam and make it easier for us to take them out.
Ten gut-wrenching seconds later and seeing nothing, I calmly step out into the cold. I smoothly pan the area immediately in front of us looking for any signs of movement but seeing none.
Okay, so far so good.
Jill steps out next, her gun gripped firmly. She places her empty hand on my shoulder and moves with me, holding onto my jacket. Carla’s next, followed by Vinny.
Again, we stand still, listening for anything. But all we hear is the wind sweeping through the block’s back alleyway. Ahead of us to the south, are the rear façades of the apartments and shops lining 71st Street. Trash swirls, mimicking the scratching and scraping sounds of the Unseen. It unnerves me, but for the moment I have to, unfortunately, trust that we’re alone and move on.
I turn right and head west, keeping a swift, but steady pace. It’s not quite a run, but a hustling walk. I want to conserve as much energy as I can. If we do, indeed, have to make a break for it, I don’t want anyone feeling winded.
Another breeze kicks up, slamming into us from straight ahead. The wind is cold as sin and stings my face. Refusing the sock hat offered to me may have been a bad idea if the weather gets worse.
Can’t worry about that now.
“Frank,” a soft voice says from behind.
I turn and see Jill staring up and follow her gaze. Carla and Vinny are looking up too, and it’s not until the first snowflake lands on Jill’s head, that I see what caught her attention.
Great.
The one that landed on her beanie cap is of the standard white variety, but the sky is alive with red snow, making it look like it’s snowing blood. I watch as an identical flake passes into a shadow. Its red hue disappears, the light being blocked.
Okay…
Vinny steps up to me, whispering. “I wonder what the snowfall does to the creatures.” He then waves his hand in front of his face, motioning to his eyes and ears.
He’s right. I’m a little curious too. Since they see everything with their senses and not visually, would it block some of that acuteness? Will it hinder their ability to hunt effectively? Also, can the Unseen freeze to death? Most are missing clothes and are exposed to the harsh temperatures, wandering the streets at night. It’s the first time it’s snowed since this mess started, so I haven’t had the opportunity to test out the theory.
I hope so, but I wish I could’ve tested it out without three other lives depending on me.
The snow gives me another feeling of trepidation though. The river was already going to be rough with the wind and bitter temperature. Now more than ever, it could kill us. If we were to tip over and plunge into the glacial Hudson…
Doesn’t matter, I think, not finishing the previous thought.
I put my finger to my lips and then peek out onto Broadway. Both the northbound and southbound lanes are free of monsters, but not of obstacles. Like most of the surrounding streets, Broadway is cluttered with wrecks…and bodies.
I silently point to the triangle clearing making up the median. It’s covered in the dead but has a building sitting atop it. The old subway control house opened in 1904 and is somewhat of a historical site now. It’s still in use after a few different renovations and should make for a good hiding spot. After getting three nods, I dash out into the street, weaving in and out of the mayhem.
Stopping behind a flipped bus, I wait for the others to join me and then gander another quick look-see. Peering to the south, down Broadway, I see some faint movement. It’s not much, but something is definitely alive down there.
I point at our feet and then make a semi-circular motion. Then, I motion behind me and form a triangle with my hands. Hopefully, they understand that I want to skirt around the bus and head for the building.
Three more nods.
I peek again and do my best to duck run straight for the 112-year-old building. The doors are wide open, making it easy for me to see inside. Nothing is moving, which in our case is good. If we can get inside and regroup without being seen, the better off we’ll be.
As my foot leaves the street and finds the sidewalked portion of the median, bullets go flying all around us, zinging past our heads. I increase my speed and leap into the open double doors, hearing more rounds ricochet off the room’s interior.
“Get the doors!” I yell as I get to my feet and move to the other set, across the rectangular room. They are likewise open giving the structure a barn-like feel. I reach out and slam them shut, just as Vinny does the same to the others.
“Behind the counters. Be ready for anything.”
Jill and I leap over the nearest one housing the register and magazine rack. We pop back up with our weapons drawn, but Vinny doesn’t. I expected him and Carla to be across the room, or at the very least be with us. Instead, he’s halfway across the room, but stops and turns. What? I follow Vinny’s glaze and notice that Carla is just standing still, looking back towards the front doors.
I watch as she calmly puts her hand up to her chest, but my view is blocked. I can’t see what she’s feeling for. Then, her hand comes away, covered in blood. My mind is still trying to register what just happened, but the twin holes in Carla’s chest explain everything to me in an instant. She then entirely turns and meets Vinny’s confused face, but it quickly turns into a look of terror as Carla’s knees buckle. He catches her before she hits the ground, cradling her like a small child.
Her hand comes up and gently goes to his face, stroking it like only someone filled with love for the other can. It’s the same thing I did when I first saw Jill again in the museum and her to me in the tunnels. I clutched her perfect face in both my hands, never wanting to let go.
The doors shutter from an impact.
Someone’s trying to get in.
The door bounces again as Vinny sobs a cry of sorrow. I look over just in time to see Carla’s lifeless hand fall away. Tears roll down Jill’s face, but her aim doesn’t falter. She understands what can happen if we don’t stay in control. People, not the Unseen, are here to kill us. I look at Jill. Or worse if she’s taken alive.
As the doors swing open, the ground rumbles, shaking like it did in the sporting goods store. A gang of eight men steps in, but before any of them can lift their weapons, an utterly distraught and frighteningly irate Vinny leaps into motion. From his kneeling position, he swings his shotgun up, letting loose. Two men insta
ntly fall, taking a shell each in the chest.
Jill pops off another shot, clipping one in the shoulder.
I follow and take down a forth. The survivors all fire uncontrolled bursts, sweeping their automatic weapons back-and-forth as the ground shakes anew, throwing off their aim. I tackle Jill to the ground and cover her with my own body, shielding her as best I can. Glass and decorative mosaic tiles rain down on us as the display case above us shatters.
In between shots, I hear Jill screaming in fright and Vinny roaring in anger. His shotgun booms again and again. Then…nothing. All parties fall silent. I stay on top of Jill for a few more heartbeats and then slowly peek out. Seeing nothing from my half-blocked vantage point, I jump up and snap the barrel of my own shotgun towards the door, seeing eight bodies. All dead.
How?
I turn my head back to Vinny. He’s holding my other Glock and kneeling in a growing pool of blood. His shotgun lay to his side, empty, discarded and replaced. It’s the same gun John used before getting run-through by a siren.
“No…” I whisper to myself.
My melancholy reaction gets Jill moving, and she leaps to her feet, screaming when she sees Vinny and Carla. On shaky legs, she shambles over the counter and slides to Vinny’s side, but stops herself. Not knowing what to do, her hand drops and she wails, covering her face with her hands.
I follow her over, but stay on my feet, stepping in front of the inert forms of my family. There, kneeling in his blood and that of his wife, his chin resting against his chest in peace, is the motionless form of Vincente D’Angelo. Dead. I try to survey the scene the best I can I look to see if Vinny is miraculously alive. I even reach forward and look for a pulse, but find none. His injuries are severe with too many gunshot wounds to count.
He died in a moment of passion, fighting for those he cared for.
I look down, seeing Carla’s peaceful face. She had smiled just before passing, a testament to her feelings for Vinny. She too died because of love. She adored her husband and literally followed him to hell to be by his side.
