Feral Skies

by K. M. Raya

  ​I take my time strapping my mask to my face before the front doors are opened, and the others do the same. I nod goodbye to Beretta and Dante, and the two of them pull open the first set of sliding doors, letting the three of us through before slamming them shut behind us. The thud of the glass and metal sounds so final, like being shoved out an airlock into the vacuum of space. Wyatt pries open the other set of doors and the fog rolls in. My heart thuds, just like it always does when I step out into the toxic fog. There’s always this lingering doubt in the back of my mind that my mask might malfunction, and I'll become some slobbering, staggering corpse.

  ​My fears are stupid, though. These masks aren't just your run of the mill gas masks. They’re government issued. The days following those bombs on the fourth of July, stealth bombers and choppers flew overhead, dropping massive crates filled with what we all thought was food and supplies at the time, but turned out to be hundreds of gas masks that filter out toxins like the one that fills the bloodstream and turns humans feral. It’s almost like they knew it was coming, and they’d been prepared for the fallout.

  The ones who remained indoors stayed alive, while anyone outside breathing those fumes turned, and the government got to pat themselves on the back for dropping these bad boys on our doorsteps. Somewhere along the way, though, something went wrong. Some of the drops never made it to their intended destinations and the government went quiet for good. Some landed in the middle of infested cities, or in scattered piles over mountain ranges. We were lucky to have found these when we did, otherwise we’d be no better off than all the people outside celebrating independence day.

  ​Sometimes I wonder if things are this bad off in other countries around the world or if it’s just America. All communications were severed the day those chemical bombs dropped and nobody came to our aid. But I guess none of that matters anymore. This place is a fucking wasteland. Dead. Forgotten. Buried, unlike the millions of dead bodies that happen to be up and walking around. Even now I can see their ominous shadows staggering around in the distance.

  ​“Stick together, we need to head into the center of town, that’s where the hospital is,” Wyatt says. I’m assuming he knows more than he leads on, given the fact that he’s our main navigator. Anyways, I trust my best friend's instincts.

  ​For once in probably her entire life, Helana doesn't argue, she just turns on her vehicle and hops right on like she’s done it a million times. It surprises me just how game she is to do all this. A pretty girl like her probably lived a cushy life before all this chaos, and I can’t imagine her riding around on one of these, much less knowing how to handle it for real. So why do my pants feel a little tighter watching her sit on it?

  ​“You got this, princess?” I call over my shoulder as I glide my quad past her. She flips me off with one gloved hand, and I can’t help but laugh.

  ​“Alright, let’s move!” Wyatt calls out, pointing dead ahead. “Stay tight and keep your eyes shifting, they can hear us easier than we can hear them on these things!” He takes off ahead of us.

  ​Helana and I catch up quickly, swerving around broken down cars strewn across the parking lot. A lot of them are nothing more than rusted out skeletons, only husks of what they once were. The sound of us starting our journey has drawn in a few stragglers. As we make our way around them, my trigger finger twitches with the need to take them down. But it wouldn’t be worth it. It would only slow us down.

  Hell and I spend the majority of our trip down the lonely streets overtaking each other while Wyatt leads the way. Her white blonde hair is tied up again into a long ponytail, making room for her facemask to fit securely. I’ll admit, though it pains me to, that she looks sexy as hell on the back of that quad with her ridiculous pink crossbow strapped to her back. I hate myself for even noticing, but regardless of how much I loathe her, I’m still a guy with perfectly functioning eyeballs… and other body parts.

  Luckily, these machines are much quieter than the ones we used to ride as kids. The purr of the motor is much more subdued than the sport bikes I’m used to. I know Wyatt used to use these on hunting trips, or on his shifts as a fish and game officer when he lived in California. Dante, Jessa and I used to visit him out there at the national park sometimes when the weather was nice… Shaking my head back and forth, I fight the urge to close my eyes tightly. She pops into my head so randomly that it’s like getting whiplash every single time.

  It’s been a year since Jessa ran off. A year of hating myself and wondering where it all went wrong. Sometimes I lay awake at night wondering if she’s still even out there. I don’t know how to feel anymore. She took that away from me the day she chose a stranger over us. Looking to Helana up ahead, I narrow my eyes, wondering what the fuck we’re thinking. She’s already got Dante and Wyatt wrapped around her dainty finger, it’s only a matter of time until she tries some shit on me. But I’m not dumb enough to fall for it a second time. Not after everything.

  I won’t lie, I think about the luscious blonde a lot more than I should, given that fact that I’ve made my feelings perfectly clear. She’s all spirit and wildness that makes my heart race and my dick hard, but I can’t afford to let her get to me. I can’t put myself through that again. Still, I watch her when she’s not looking… which is often. It almost grates on my nerves the way she’s taken to ignoring me. She sure as fuck has eyes for Wyatt and Dante, though. And I don’t miss the way Ret practically pants over her, too.

  She’s been slowly driving me nuts since the moment I saw her and that tempting smirk. Those lush lips and all that hair that I can’t help but want to grip in my fist while I… No… No more of this. I can’t keep this up or I’ll just drive myself to insanity. I need to keep the woman far from my heart and even further from my body at all costs.

  We take the back streets through residential neighborhoods, figuring it to be safer than the city… well, what’s left of the city. If you can even call it a city. This town is tiny, barely more than ten streets with a school in the center like most country towns. Looking to my left as we pass a couple of small ranch style homes, I can clearly see a few zoms through the windows, staring vacantly through the bloody glass, some of them dragging their broken nails against it, but never able to figure out how to leave. I wonder how long it’ll take for them to decay, but I’m not getting my hopes up because we’re a year into this shit and they are still up and walking around.

  Wyatt catches my attention with a whistle, and I realize I’ve lagged behind slightly. I can barely see him or Hell ahead of me through all the fog, so I speed up until I see them again. Pulling up alongside Hell, she turns her head towards me, our eyes clashing. “Up ahead is the hospital and clinics, we saw some signs for them at the last intersection!”

  Nodding, I speed past her, bringing myself up next to Wyatt just as we enter a small parking lot that seemingly appears out of nowhere. But that’s just how things are now, nothing but a haze of fog and rot. Over the last three months, we’ve noticed a little dissipation in the fog, but that might just be us getting our hopes up. We’re hoping the rain eventually clears the lingering chemicals from the air, and that we won't have to live the rest of our lives like mole people.

  Broken down cars are haphazardly strewn across the lot, windows broken in and bloody smears across their once shiny paint jobs. Several ambulance vans are toppled over. We pull up to the front entrance of what looks like the ER and park our quads facing backwards, in case we need to make a quick getaway… which we most likely will. I have no idea what we’re walking into, and I also know that there’s no guarantee that all three of us will be coming back out of there. The building is in shambles, and mostly overgrown with nature, but the windows look intact, making me think it might be safe inside without masks. I don’t know how sturdy those upper floors will be, though, and that’s precisely why we usually avoid the taller buildings these days.

  Helana hops off first, lithe and light on her feet as she removes her crossbow from her back an
d brings it up in front of her. Wyatt’s watching her closely as she notches an arrow and creeps towards the glass doors. Her perfect stance tickles a memory, one buried somewhere deep. Back in my military days, we’d perfected the art of clearing a building, so the fact that Helana’s doing it right sort of irks me, and I don’t know why. We follow silently, both of us bringing up our guns and preparing for pretty much anything that might come through those doors.

  At the crunch of gravel, Hell peers back over her shoulder, eyes coming to rest on our weapons. She shakes her head with a huff and turns back to the door. I look at Wyatt. “What’s her fucking deal?”

  His eyes squint, telling me he’s grinning like an idiot under that mask. “Maybe we should have brought bows instead,” he suggests.

  “Maybe we should have left her behind and brought Anubis instead…” I grumble back, lying through my teeth. As much as she pisses me off, the chick can fight like the best of them. Besides, I’m no errand boy.

  Hell whips her head around, golden eyes full of loathing. “You’re the one who decided to tag along, not me, douchebag. Now shut up and open the doors already.”

  Ignoring her attitude, Wyatt and I go to either side of the doors, jamming our fingers in the crevice before prying it open the same way we did back at the store. Luckily, these types of doors are pretty easy to slide open once you have a hold of it, and they come away easily. We’re immediately hit with a wave of nauseating, rotten air, making all three of us reel back. Even through the filter, it’s easy to identify exactly what that smell is. It’s the smell of a year's worth of decay and death.

  Sticking my hand out in front of me with a dramatic sweep of my arm, palm up, I look to Helana. “Ladies first.”

  “Suck it,” she grumbles, shoving past me when I don’t immediately move aside. Her head barely reaches my chest, so I have to wonder if she knows her threats are pretty much pointless. Still, the feel of her body pressed against mine makes me shiver. I hate myself for it, but the little touches do something to me.

  Wyatt catches my arm as I go to follow, holding me back as he turns me to face him. “You need to stop goading her, Lex.” I go to open my mouth, but he cuts me off. “I’m serious. I know you don’t like her, and I’m not even gonna try to guess why, but were on a mission. We can’t afford distractions.”

  “Tell that to Xena the warrior princess over there,” I huff, rolling my eyes. Hell went on up ahead, not even looking back to make sure we were following. “Look,” I level with him. “I’ll try, but I make no promises. The chick’s a fucking hothead, and she’s gonna get herself, and probably us, hurt.”

  Wyatt frowns. “Then we'd better keep an eye on her, right?”

  Pushing past him, I can’t help but grumble under my breath, “Yeah, I’ll bet you’ll keep an eye on her…”

  “What was that!?” he calls after me.

  Hell appears around the reception desk with a glare. “Can you ladies keep it down for two fucking seconds?” Her eyes flit around the room, as if she expects the shadows themselves to jump out at us.

  She’s right, though, and we both know it. We’re being stupid and reckless coming into a place like this without keeping our heads on straight. I look at Wyatt. “Ok, where’d Dante say the meds would be, I’ve never seen a hospital set up like this.”

  Wyatt checks a small, torn piece of paper he pulled from his pocket. “Antibiotics will be in the pharmacy, probably near phlebotomy labs or the reception area. Probably on the second floor since this looks like just an ER.”

  I spot a site map on the wall, so I stroll over and wipe the grime off the surface, searching for the best way to get there. Hell comes up next to me until our shoulders brush. “Obviously the elevators are a no go, but there’s a stairwell just around this corner that should take up to the C wing. If we’re fast, it shouldn’t take more than five minutes.”

  I nod. “That’s if we’re the only ones here. We need to find out how many might be in those halls, because from the outside, I didn't see many windows. This place is old school, so we could get stuck on the second floor with no way out.” We stare at each other for a minute, and for that short time, there’s no animosity… just deliberation. We both equally want to make it out of this hospital. “How fast can you run?” I ask. “Judging by this map, the pharmacy is at the very end of the upstairs corridor.”

  “I’ll be fine, but what about you guys, can you run with those things weighing you down?” She nods to my gun strapped across my chest. Her eyes are dancing with humor.

  That makes me grin. “This ain’t my first rodeo, sweetheart.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Back to this again? It was a valid question.”

  I shrug. “You say valid, I say unnecessary.”

  “Guys, can we get a move on?!” calls Wyatt from down the hall. He’s keeping a lookout while we study the map, but I can tell he’s impatient.

  Hell turns away with a sneer. “Follow me, and try not to accidentally shoot me in the back.”

  “No promises,” I murmur, too quiet for her to hear, all the while my eyes are definitely not on her back.

  We creep down the deserted hallways, dodging medical equipment and dead bodies. There’s blood splattered over the white walls, and decaying limbs scattered at our feet. I don’t gag like I used to. My stomach’s become a steel trap after all the things I’ve seen. Helana is crouched in front of me, and it’s a struggle to keep my eyes anywhere but her. It’s at times like this that I hate being a fucking dude.

  Her pale hair swishes behind her, and it looks so silky, that my fingers itch to reach out and run through the strands. But I’d never… the guys would never let me live that one down. Besides, Hell would probably punch my teeth out for it anyway. Or she’d sic Anubis on me in my sleep. I’ll never understand why the universe chose to wrap the most annoying of personalities in the most alluring package, because she makes my head hurt, and not just the one on my shoulders.

  She stops suddenly when a rattling sound drifts around the corner just before the first stairwell. It sounds like the shuffling of metal and rubber against tiled flooring. This can only mean one thing. Without looking back at me or Wyatt, she suddenly sticks her hand up, making a quick, efficient gesture with her fingers that for some reason I find myself obeying almost immediately without any conscious thought. I go to the left and Wyatt comes up on the right, before she flattens her palm, causing us to halt.

  Wyatt and I glance at each other with wide, bewildered eyes. It happened in less than a blink. I don’t understand what just happened, but it’s something I’m definitely going to have to discuss with her when we have the time. For now, we just follow the tiny girl as she creeps around the corner, loosing a single arrow from her crossbow with a soft swish of air. She reloads the next one almost immediately and I hear the thump of something heavy hitting the tiled floor.

  Helana straightens and walks sideways with her crossbow front facing. “Go, go!” she shouts at us. “Three on the left, two on the right!”

  We spring into action, flanking her on either side as my ears register the death rattles and footsteps. Sure enough, we’re face to face with five zoms ambling down the hallway, smelling their way towards fresh meat. A corpse lies at their feet with a bright green arrow through its forehead, a perfect shot, but the others are coming quickly.

  “Don’t use your…” Helana starts to yell, but Wyatt’s gunfire rips apart what she was about to say. He sprays the zombies and they drop to the ground like lead weights. The silence that follows is deafening. Hell swivels her head towards Wyatt, leveling him with a glare. “You could have used your fucking knives!”

  Wyatt shrugs, “That was much quicker.”

  She shakes her head in bewilderment before stalking over to the zombie with the arrow in his head. She tugs, ripping it from its skill before wiping it off on the thing’s clothing and stashing it back in her quiver. “Yeah, say that in a few minutes.”

  ​Wyatt looks to me for help, but all I c
an do is shake my head. To be honest, I thought the same thing Hell did. We definitely could have taken those ones out with daggers. The instinct is to shoot, but I don’t really like to waste bullets on the smaller groups. We continue down the hallways, eyes swiveling over the dark corridor. The door at the end of the hall crashes open, and a chorus of moans filter down the hallway as over a dozen zoms stagger into view.

  “Shit!” Helana curses as she speeds up with both of us on her heels. Turning sideways, she opens a blue door with the sign for a stairwell to the side of it, and we follow her through. Taking the stairs two at a time, we hurry up with crashing, scraping sounds following in our wake. Behind me, Wyatt fires into the crowd of zoms as they flow into the stairwell, too.

  “Keep moving!” he shouts and I pause to make sure he’s still coming. He’s standing still on the landing, shooting down into the horde. He looks up at me. “What are you doing?! Keep going and make sure she gets away!”

  “Then hurry your ass up, there’s no way you can get em all, we have to move, Wyatt!” He’s still shooting, but he begins to walk backwards up the steps, so I turn back around and run after Helana.

  We burst onto the next floor, and I go to take a moment to breathe, but there’s no time. She’s backed into a wall, slashing zoms with a machete that was hanging at her hip, and heads are flying everywhere. Cursing, I run for her at full speed, already pulling my knives out. I hit the first few, driving my blades in and out of the base of their skulls before they even realize I’m there. They drop instantly.

  “Where's Wyatt?!” she shouts at me, just as she lops off another head.

  “He’s coming!” I shout back, trying to resist glancing back at the door for my best friend. He should have been up here by now. After killing another three zoms, I take the chance and look behind me, and I see Wyatt staggering out of the doorway, bullets flying as he screams obscenities.