Followed East

by Andre Gonzalez

  One blast from the tank can wipe out half of them, Kyle thought, wondering why so many soldiers were even needed at this point.

  The Exalls stopped in their tracks, entering a staredown with the Crew as they stood patiently with their own guns. They were one hundred yards away when Colonel Griffins commanded that the Crew stop as well.

  They watched hundreds of Exalls all swaying in unison like leaves on a tree, their gray skin visible under the sun that grew hotter by the minute. Kyle, like his fellow soldiers, had been focused to the point he didn’t notice the streaks of sweat pouring down his back. Matters as such proved minor nuances when your life was on the line. They all stood in silence as they waited for the next command. Kyle glanced over to see Colonel Griffins studying the Exalls, trying to figure out the next best move. It was a real-life chess match, only a false move here would result in death.

  They were close enough to start shooting, but Colonel Griffins held off on giving the command as he stared with tense eyes toward the alien species across the way. No one else seemed to be watching the colonel, only looking through their scopes with fingers tight on the triggers.

  The Exalls parted down the middle of their grouping, each of them shuffling aside to make a path. The Crew watched, ready, but clearly unsure of what their foes were doing. The Exalls had spaced apart what looked like ten feet, yet they all remained facing The Crew.

  A horn blared, the kind that belonged to a diesel truck, and within seconds the truck it belonged to roared through the gap, its motor rumbling the world around them as it gained speed.

  “Everybody get back!” Colonel Griffins shouted, pivoting to run and return behind the tanks.

  The rest of The Crew followed suit in this brief moment of panic, yet everyone still remained calm and collected as they sprinted like runners at a track meet.

  “Fire the tanks!” Griffins screamed, a pleading tone buried underneath his usual confidence.

  The two tanks had lined up sideways, one on each side of the highway’s median, their tracks perpendicular with the direction traffic flowed. Their main guns were already pointed in the direction of the oncoming semi-truck. Each tank had a soldier on top manning machine guns, and they wasted no more time before opening fire.

  The machine guns blasted in chaotic succession right before both tanks erupted in unison. The ground shook for a brief moment, before ramping up to what felt like an earthquake.

  The semi-truck ruptured into a ball of flames, a wave of heat blasting across The Crew. Scraps of metal soared through the air, transforming into lethal missiles and causing everyone to duck and cover. The semi flipped onto its side and slid across the freeway, sparks shooting up in every direction as the sound of metal screeching against pavement sent a piercing scream into the quiet day. It had gained too much speed to be completely stopped, ramming into the tank where all of The Crew members hid behind, and rocking it in its tracks.

  Smoke clouded the air, reducing visibility to a mere three feet as many Crew members started coughing after breathing in the particles.

  “Go, go, go!” Colonel Griffins yelled from somewhere in the smoke. Footsteps ran away, but some also approached, gun fire ringing both near and far. “It’s a trap! Take cover!”

  The colonel’s voice held on by a thread, clearly on the verge of a heavy coughing attack. Kyle sucked in short gasps of air, feeling the smoke in his lungs, but able to resist coughing out his brains. His eyes welled while his hands subconsciously prepared his rifle.

  Those who had left the cover of the tanks were heard screaming from the other side, but their words came out muffled and distant, Kyle’s head still ringing from the explosion of the tanks and the resulting eruption of the semi-truck.

  He regained control and jogged out from behind the tank, viewing the battlefield ahead. Hundreds of gray people engaged with hundreds of Crew members, more still charging onto the scene from both directions. Most Exalls had guns of their own, but a few carried crow bars, machetes, and knives. They all had crazed looks on their faces: nostrils flared, eyes bulging, black fanglike teeth revealed from psychotic grins.

  Kyle froze, unable to join his fellow Crew members or turn around and return to safety. The sight of a war unfolding in the middle of the road jammed the circuits for every instinct in his body. Soldiers and Exalls alike were lying face down on the interstate, blood oozing from wounds, red from the humans, black from the Exalls, some beside each other and blending together to make the color of a dark red wine.

  The semi-truck lay on its side, a fire raging across its entire length, black smoke pouring into the sky like a bonfire. If the truck had been a distraction like Colonel Griffins thought, then it worked. It prevented many Crew soldiers from seeing and breathing, resulting in broken formations and a general collapse of their strategy.

  The few Exalls with close-range weapons were doing plenty of damage and still appeared unharmed. One drew closer to Kyle, swinging a machete through the air, slashing Crew soldiers across their throats with perfectly landed blows above their protective vests. Kyle watched as one soldier was attacked thirty feet in front of him, dropping their rifle as their hands flailed for their throat, blood shooting out from gloved fingers like a burst pipe. The soldier collapsed to the ground, a gurgling that sounded like a pot of boiling potato soup escaping their throat.

  The Exall who caused the damage looked from his victim to Kyle, a mad grin spreading across his face as he started toward him. Kyle fumbled his rifle, trying to get his finger on the trigger, but unable to do so as his arms trembled beyond his control. The Exall stepped closer, maybe fifteen feet away, when its head exploded with black liquid flying from it and landing on the asphalt with an audible gloop!

  Seeing this woke up Kyle. He sprinted to the other side of the tank where Colonel Griffins had been earlier, but now he was no longer in sight. There were only a couple dozen of Crew soldiers still hiding behind the tanks, either catching their breath or regaining their bearings. The semi-truck that rocked the tank had apparently hit with enough force to send two soldiers flying several yards back. They lay on the ground, one dead, the other with his tibia splintering out of his pants like a broken tree branch, blood pouring from the wound like lava down a volcano.

  Gunfire continued on the other side of the tank, mixed with the unmistakable sounds of bodies thudding to the ground. Kyle’s heart jumped like a manic kangaroo, his vision pulsing in and out of focus as the reality settled in that he might be one of the few survivors remaining.

  Needing to know, Kyle leaned his back on the tank and slid around the corner for a view of what lay ahead. There were indeed more bodies—both gray and human—than what he had seen just a minute ago. The scene matched what he saw in war films: dead bodies on the ground while others fought in the distance. The battle had moved away from The Crew’s tanks that had stopped firing for no obvious reason. Kyle assumed those who manned the tanks had been either captured or killed.

  Heat still radiated from the burning truck, the flames starting to shrink, but the smoke remaining thick. Not wanting to cower any more, Kyle stepped out from behind the tank and started forward.

  He stepped over dead body after dead body, tiptoeing through a maze of death, the heat from the smoldering truck singeing the hairs on the back of his neck. Up ahead were about fifteen Crew soldiers crouched behind the concrete median that separated the freeway. They continued to engage in a shootout with a group of Exalls huddled together, their weapons firing at the median, blasting chunks of concrete into the air.

  The smoke created a haze that spread across the entirety of the I-95 battlefield, making it impossible for Kyle to see who was still shooting from the Crew side. Colonel Griffins wasn’t in sight, either dead or alive.

  “Oh, shit,” Kyle whispered as he swung his rifle upward. One of the Exalls had broken away from their group and started walking toward Kyle at a pace of strolling through the park on a Sunday afternoon.

  Kyle lined up a shot, watching the
Exall through his scope still one hundred feet away, but hesitated pulling the trigger. Through the scope he saw the Exall’s skin wasn’t gray, but light like his own. Dirty blond hair with a youthful face. A teenager’s face, with even a few blemishes and a crooked smile . He looked up and met Kyle’s stare.

  “Brian?”

  33

  Chapter 33

  In that brief moment, the two boys at a standstill, eyes locked, Kyle forgot about his grandmother, the colonel, Sandra, his entire life. He had expected Brian here today, but didn’t once think he’d actually see his old friend.

  No one moved, as if they were in an old spaghetti Western showdown. This town’s not big enough for the two of us, Kyle thought. This world is not big enough for the two of us. His rifle remained cocked and aimed straight ahead, but Brian had no weapon, just his bare hands protruding from the end of raggedy sleeves.

  “Kyle,” he said, still not moving or breaking his deadlocked stare. “Did you get my messages?”

  One course that Kyle had enjoyed thoroughly was Exall Psychology, a class that focused on what made the Exalls tick, and more importantly, how to engage in a discussion with them should the occasion arise. Exalls were not negotiators. They had a goal and exhausted all options to achieve it. If an Exall engaged in conversation, they likely had a plan to either work their hypnosis over the other person, or at the very least play mind games. Having a history with Brian complicated matters, but Kyle kept his training at his mind’s forefront.

  “I saw the messages you sent to Mikey,” Kyle said, subconsciously tightening his grip on the rifle. “Let me help you.”

  Brian’s face remained expressionless, his blank stare trying to burn into Kyle’s soul, but failing.

  “You can make this simple and come with me,” Brian said. “We can run away from this place and never look back. Get me away from that doctor – all he does is use me as a pawn in his games.”

  “You know I can’t go with you. Even if I did, the whole Crew would be after me. They’ll kill you.”

  “That wouldn’t be the worst thing. I’m basically spending my life in a prison right now.”

  “That’s why you need to come with me. We can reverse this.”

  Kyle knew a reversal was possible, but not likely in Brian’s case. Those procedures had to take place shortly after an infection. Brian had been wandering for nearly half of a decade.

  Just shoot him before it’s too late, Kyle’s better conscience pleaded. You know what this is all for. Get yourself out of this situation.

  He looked beyond Brian where Exalls and Crew soldiers continued fighting, blasting at each other from across the freeway. No one paid them any attention, as if they were alone in their own private battle.

  “Why me?” Kyle asked. Exalls rarely expected questions to be asked toward them, a strategy used to try and fluster them.

  “I don’t know, Ky. I’m just doing what I’m told.”

  Nothing about Brian seemed to be that of an Exall. If Kyle hadn’t known his friend was infected, he may have fallen for his trap.

  Brian took a step closer and Kyle raised his rifle to line up squarely with his chest. “Don’t do it, Brian. Don’t make me.”

  “I don’t wanna fight. I just want my life back.”

  Everything sounded too scripted for Kyle’s liking. Yes, it was his best friend’s voice and body, but none of it felt real.

  Brian took another step, daring Kyle to make a move he dreaded.

  “Brian!” he shouted. “Stop it! Let’s just go our own ways.”

  Brian’s flat expression gave way to a crooked smirk. His pale face started melting into a gray tone, his eyes turning darker by the second.

  “You’re coming with me,” Brian growled, and charged forward, his arms flailing like a toddler still learning how to run. Drool flew from his mouth where his teeth started turning black and fanglike.

  Kyle, swarmed by a world of confidence thanks to his lifelong training, held his ground, feet buried into their positions, shoulders squared up to maximize his accuracy. Eight feet away, Brian leapt through the air for Kyle, his face wild like a possessed zombie. Kyle pulled the trigger and watched the life vanish from Brian’s face before he fell to the ground in a heavy thud of bones hitting asphalt.

  Black blood immediately squirted from Brian’s chest. He was already dead—the special choker bullets instantly removed all oxygen from an Exall’s body. As he lay on the ground, Brian’s skin faded back to its normal color from the gray tone it had just morphed into. The blackness left his eyes, and the underlying evil that swam beneath his surface disappeared like a spirit leaving a body, allowing his teenage innocence to return.

  His body lay a couple feet in front of Kyle, prompting him to stick out a foot to nudge his friend’s body, receiving the limp, lifeless response he expected.

  I killed him, he thought, his brain still trying to process what happened, his heart drumming on the verge of an explosion. Tears welled in his eyes. I killed the monster that killed my grandma. But I also killed my best friend.

  Kyle had no intention of pulling the trigger unless Brian forced his hand. If he had turned and walked away, Kyle would have left him in peace until their next inevitable meeting. But how many times would the cycle continue? Emotions crept up, but he had to sweep them aside as soon as they arrived, interrupted by the gunfire still continuing across the way. From the looks of it, the battle was almost over. Only a couple of Exalls remained, while a dozen Crew soldiers readied to make their move for final kills.

  “I didn’t think you had the balls to kill your friend,” a voice said from behind.

  Kyle spun around, rifle swinging through the air as he saw an Exall standing behind him, along with Colonel Griffins with his wrists bound together with a rope, duct tape wrapped around his mouth and neck.

  The colonel’s face was flushed beet red, beads of sweat around his forehead, dripping to a stop on his thick eyebrows.

  The Exall looked at Kyle’s rifle while he spoke, as if having a conversation with the firearm. “Don’t you dare shoot that gun at me, Kyle,” he said in a rather calm voice. “If you do, the colonel dies.”

  The colonel’s eyes locked onto Kyle’s, desperation on the surface of what was normally unhinged confidence.

  “What do you want from me?” Kyle shouted. “You’re not even supposed to be here for another twenty-five years.”

  The Exall giggled. “Oh, Kyle, Kyle, you are precious. I’m not one of these gray monsters born in the sky coming down here for a little tourist time. I took over this doctor’s body four years ago and have accumulated all of his knowledge and strength. Earth is my home, and I can’t live peacefully knowing there are people actively trying to kill me and all of my new friends.”

  “We’re not trying—we did. Look around.”

  He chuckled.

  “I don’t care about these people. They were hired help to try and eliminate your little Crew. I’d say they did an honorable job, wouldn’t you? I’ve counted over 400 Crew members dead with one colonel about to join them. And can you believe it, Griffins, I saw about fifteen of your soldiers run away. Fifteen people who could have killed me and saved you from this exact predicament. Instead they turned their backs and sprinted as fast as they can.”

  The Exall tousled Griffins’s hair like a little child, giggling as he did so.

  “What do you want from me?” Kyle asked again.

  “You,” the Exall said with a smirk. “You pose the greatest threat. I spent so many nights outside of your house, just watching you.”

  That comment spread chills down Kyle’s spine. There had been a few nights where he felt like he was being watched, but with the trauma of events at Susan’s house, chalked it up as a new paranoia he’d have the rest of his life.

  “The others tried stopping me, so I ate them. All three of them who came to my house, right down to the bone. Now I have the strength of four Exalls, plus a charming doctor.”

  “If you
kill me, they’ll just come for you. There are thousands of us around the planet, and looks like only you left.”

  The Exall threw his head back and howled. “I’m not going to kill you, Kyle. I’m going to convert you. If I can turn my biggest threat into my biggest weapon, then nothing will stop us. How would you like to rule the world with me? We can take over one city at a time, turning the world mad one day at a time.”

  “Fuck you,” Kyle said, squeezing the trigger on his rifle, a flash and boom flying out of the muzzle.

  The Exall’s left hand shot up simultaneously, his forefinger and thumb pinching the bullet inches in front of his face. He grinned, studied the bullet, and flicked it aside like a booger.

  “Stop the games, little boy. I was expecting someone a bit more threatening than yourself. Is that the best you can do? Shooting me to make me shut up? I’ll stop talking when I want to stop.”

  Kyle froze, unable to believe what he just saw.

  “I said I have the power of four Exalls in one body. Why bother shooting me? It’ll only make me angry.”

  The Exall’s black eyes peered into Kyle, his teeth transforming into black fangs, saliva dripping from their sharp tips.

  “Get down!” a voice barked from the other side of the tank.

  A grenade soared through the air, landing precisely at the Exall’s feet. The alien looked down at it, grinning, before looking back up at Kyle. A soldier burst from the side of the tank, charging for Colonel Griffins, lunging toward and tackling him, putting as much distance possible between him and the grenade.

  Kyle leapt away from the scene, hands over his neck, as the grenade exploded shards of metal across the road. He landed face down, just missing a dead body a few feet away. Colonel Griffins appeared okay, being helped up by the soldier who sacrificed his body to save him.