Screaming.
More explosions.
The glass on the balcony door reflects the aggressive flickering orange glow of fire.
I jump off the cot and grab my gun. I don’t bother with a shirt.
“What is it, Tim? What’s going on?” Bethany is in the room. She’s got a flashlight and her pistol.
“Stay here, okay. I’m going to check it out. You don’t come out until I come back to get you. Understand?”
“I’m not letting you go alone, Tim.”
I move to the balcony door and try to get a glimpse of the action. My sightline is blocked off by the other apartment buildings and a tangle of thick trees.
There’s a scream. It’s loud.
More gunfire.
Another explosion.
I see it blossom this time. It rolls up over the rooftops and extinguishes in a cloud of black smoke.
“Bethany, there’s no time to argue. I need you to hold things down here. Please?”
Her face is hidden behind the intensity of the flashlight beam.
“Fine. But, if you’re not back soon, I’m coming out there to find you.”
“Fair enough.”
I exit through the front door and Bethany secures it behind me.
The cold night air slaps hard at my bare chest and the cloud covered moon leaves me running blind.
I turn right, following the explosions and the gunfire, the cries for help, the orange flicker of flame. Headlights break the corner behind me. They envelop me. I stagger backwards, off the pavement and onto the grass. The open air jeep grinds to a halt beside me.
It’s Katia. There’s a man I don’t recognize in the driver seat.
“Running into battle shirtless, that’s a sight. Very...charismatic.”
“Cotton isn’t going to stop a bullet,” I respond.
“It’s not bullets you’ve got to worry about. Deadheads have broken through at the back gate. You ready to step into some shit?” Katia holds a rifle out.
I accept.
It’s black, heavy, and familiar.
“It’s locked and loaded. Just point and shoot. Save the pop gun for when your ass is in the fryer. Now, get up here.”
I hop in behind them. “Where’s Ruiz?”
“He’s on the frontlines with the rest. We just came to get you. Didn’t expect to find you barefoot and shirtless.”
“Yeah, well, I sort of just grabbed my shit and went.”
“You’re not wearing the lucky hat.” She turns in her seat, most of her face still concealed by a fluttering curtain of shadow.
“Guess I’ll be making my own luck tonight.”
We round a sharp turn and sweep beneath a metal parking shelter. Another explosion lights up the night sky, casts us in its glow, and illuminates the path in front of us.
The gunfire grows louder.
More frequent.
The cries of pain and fury in between grow more intense.
A battlefield opens up before us. It’s a flat expanse of pavement flanked by an apartment building on one side and the black security gate on the other. War wages. Men with their rifles, their blades, and their blunt instruments push back against an encroaching tide of Rabid. Vehicles burn. Men huddle behind cars, they lean out to fire their magazines dry and duck back down to reload before they’re overrun. Rabid charge across the flat expanse of pavement, some fall as bullets destroy their heads, while others rattle against ineffective body blows. Rabid flow through and over the black gate. For every one that falls, two more take its place. Sniper fire rains down from the rooftop to my left. I hear the reports but as I crane my neck, I am unable to catch a glimpse of the men behind the triggers and scopes.
“Grenade out!” a disembodied voice yells from somewhere to our left.
I don’t see it, but, between the barrage of bullets, I am able hear the heavy metal explosive device thunk against the pavement. The resulting concussion takes place further up to our right. It’s brief and ferocious. The shrapnel shreds three Rabid, removes two legs, and then flies back towards our vehicle and cracks against the windshield.
“Holy shit,” the driver yells and slams the brakes.
Katia is on the ground and in the shit before the Jeep comes to a complete stop. She pulls her swords as two Rabid charge her. As the first one lunges she ducks to the side and runs the blade in her left hand across his torso, doubling him over. As she comes back up, she turns her second blade and brings it up through his trachea and out the back of his neck. The second of the undead duo stumbles over the fallen body of his comrade. Katia catches him on the tip of her sword, driving it through his eyeball and out the back of his skull. She plants a foot against his chest and pushes him back to dislodge it.
I hop down off the back of the Jeep, follow behind her and keep my rifle shouldered as I move.
Knees cocked.
Fan of fire.
Just like Bo taught me.
I squeeze the trigger.
The recoil is familiar. Just like home.
My target, a rotted mound of flesh with shoulder length clumps of hair, jerks back and falls against the gate. I squeeze twice more, headshots. My targets fall from the top of the gate and disappear back into the darkness on the other side.
Katia creates a path of carnage in front of me. She’s like water through a drain pipe, she twists and turns, taking arms and legs. The torque of her body and the slash of her swords are notes that lead towards a deadly crescendo.
“Watch your fucking fire, assholes!” she yells as bullets hiss past her head and plant a Rabid to her right. “I can fucking handle it, aim wide!” The man taking cover beneath one of the metal overhangs to our left doesn’t respond, but he adjusts his fire, lest Katia turn her blades on him.
“Kid, you got ammo?” It’s Loco. There are three Rabid on his ass. The all American family: a man, a woman, and a little girl dressed in a puppy print nightgown. Loco swings a machete back and forth to try to ward them off. He catches the little girl across the throat. Black blood oozes from the gaping wound, but it doesn’t faze her.
“Move!” I shout as I turn on one foot and draw aim on his pursuers.
Loco drops back as I let off the first round. It tears through the girl’s temple and empties her brain matter against the woman’s white skirt as her body topples over sideways and slides to the ground. The next shot downs the woman. I don’t compensate enough for the height difference as I zero in on the head of the household. My first round tears his throat out. Lucky for me the second enters in near the bridge of his nose and takes the top of his skull with it. He goes down where he stands. Like a puppet without strings.
“Holy shit, thanks, kid!”
I toss him the Ruger. “Not much ammo left, but it’s something.”
I turn back around to find Katia still swinging and bodies still falling. She slices low and takes a man apart at the knees. Her other blade lands in the center of his forehead shortly after he falls. She follows this by sweeping up and through a little undead boy’s armpit. The blow sends the limb spiraling off into the darkness right before she cuts his head in half at the ears. It’s as if she can sense them. She doesn’t look. She just moves.
Men to my left and right, their ammo supplies spent, bash and batter the skulls of the undead horde. They scream obscenities into the night sky as they bring the butts of their rifles down and up, down and up. The violent motion turns the skulls of their attackers into dust. Few still have the luxury of ammo. The shots that do sound off around us are spaced further apart. Single rounds. Well placed to avoid hitting the growing crowd of ammo hungry survivors forced to resort to fisticuffs.
“Goddamnit, they’re still coming over the gate.” It’s Ruiz. Clutching his pistol, he appears between Katia and me. He fires once and a body skids to a halt at our feet. “How many rounds you got left?” he asks me.
“I don’t know. Not enough.”
“Fuck! I can’t get Tyrell on the goddamn radio. They’re suppo
sed to have the Humvees here. If we can get the .50’s up, we can turn this shit around.” He fires two more times. Two more undead bodies fall.
Ruiz, Katia and I bunch up, back to back. We cover our sightlines. Ruiz and I conserve our bullets. It’s gotta be a sure thing. A single squeeze of the trigger. A single body on the ground. Katia breathes heavy, her swings come with less velocity, but the damage dealt is still fatal.
“I need those fucking .50’s! We can’t hold out like this!” Ruiz screams into the radio.
“On the way boss, on the way.”
Something bulky hits me from behind and sends me flying forward onto my face. I roll on my back to see Ruiz covered up by two Rabid.
“Hold em up, hold em up!”
Ruiz presses up, his forearms buried in their throats.
I still my breathing and squeeze the trigger. The gun settles and I squeeze again.
The dead weight collapses on top of Ruiz. I stand to help pull them off and notice that Katia is missing.
Her swords are on the ground in the same spot she’d been standing seconds ago.
Her screams come from somewhere behind me.
There she is!
Concealed by the shadow of one of the car shelters.
She’s flailing, curled up against the back bumper of a blue Civic as a single Rabid beats at her with its fists and seeks her neck with its teeth. My first instinct is to shoulder my rifle and look for a shot.
There isn’t one.
I don’t think. I just react.
I jump across Ruiz and the two dead Rabid, breaking into a sprint, moving full bore, no hesitation, bare feet and all. I smash the Rabid across the side of the skull. It spins to the pavement. Before I can follow up my assault, I trip over my own damn feet and land on the ground right beside my foe.
The damn things don’t feel pain.
But I sure as hell do.
It’s on top of me before I can gather my senses. Its fists beat at my ribs. Its mouth is inches from my own. Blood and putrid saliva drown my face. I close my eyes as the vile soup of bodily fluids streams over my nose and mouth. The desire to puke is trumped only by my desire to escape and survive.
Infected.
I’m fucking infected.
My hands are around its throat. The flesh is like cold rubber. Pliable. Oozing between my fingers.
Super soldiers.
Ruiz said that it had been a super soldier project. I believe it. Now more than ever. I can’t gain a single inch. The gap between us is closing at a steady pace.
This is it Tim. Your ass is grass bubba. Good ride.
You should have worn the lucky hat.
A thick splash of liquid washes over my face. The pressure is gone. The fists beating rhythmically against my ribs are no more.
I wipe at my eyes, frantically, with the backs of my arms. When I open them, the Rabid is still there. It hangs above me. A sword runs through one side of its head and out the other.
Katia struggles to hold the thing in place. “Slide out so I can drop it.”
You don’t have to tell me twice.
I scurry back and she lets it go.
“.50s are here, everyone get the fuck down!” Ruiz shouts.
My breath comes in quick steam engine blasts, the air barely filling my lungs before it’s forced out again.
I go to stand.
Infected. I’m infected! Oh, my god, oh my god!
“No, Tim, get down!” Katia dives on top of me. She presses me back into the pavement as the rounds from the .50’s suck the sound from the air and send strips of white light careening across the night sky.
Seconds pass. Perhaps it’s minutes. I don’t know. I don’t care.
I’m just waiting to turn.
Slowly, the quiet seeps back in. The gurgles and growls are no more. The war cries of men cease to be.
“Clear!” Ruiz calls. “We’re clear. That looks like the last of em’.”
Katia is hugging my face against the nape of her neck, one hand wrapped around the back of my head. “Calm down, Tim, you’re okay.”
I claw at the pavement. My heart pounds. I can still smell and taste that vile black sludge.
“Calm down,” she whispers in my ear. She eases my head back, her hands cupping either side of my face.
“I got that shit all over me, Katia. My nose, my mouth, my eyes. All over me.”
“Shh, just breathe, Tim, in through your nose, out through your mouth. I promise, you’re going to be okay. Just look at me. Look into my eyes. Don’t take your eyes off mine. Just breathe.”
I hold her gaze. Slowly, I begin to lose myself in it. Everything slows down. My hands relax. I can feel the gravel at my back. I can feel the pain where undead fists had pummeled my ribs. I’m still alive. I’m not turning.
“We’re going to need to get you cleaned up.” She smiles, straddling my thighs.
“How bad?”
“I’m sure we both aren’t looking our best right now.” She lays a hand against my chest. “Thank you, Tim.”
“What? Thank you for what?”
“For saving my life.”
What I’d done was foggy, an out of body experience. I’m sure it’ll come back in my nightmares.
She pulls me towards her, her hips closing against mine. Her fingers run through my hair.
“Are you two okay?” Ruiz appears behind Katia, clutching his pistol.
I expect him to rip her away and plant a fist in my face.
She stands on her own.
Ruiz holds out a hand. He pulls me to my feet and embraces me with one arm. “You saved my life tonight. You saved hers. You’re family to me.” When I step back, I see the tears in his eyes.
“It was my pleasure. I guess we’re even.” I should have just gone with the solemn nod and called it a night. My faculties are still on the fritz. I’m lightheaded. I’m cold. My ribs hurt like hell. I take a step and cringe at the pain. My knees buckle.
Ruiz props me up under one arm. Katia gets me on the other side.
The two Humvees stare us down from the opposite side of the parking lot. Smoke still swirls from the barrels of the mounted .50’s. Between us lies the battlefield. It is littered with the mangled bodies of hundreds of Rabid. Some of them are missing arms and legs, many are absent their heads, a few of them still twitch with fleeting life. Cars burn, the seats are long gone. Only the melted plastic and paint are keeping the flames alive at this point.
I’ve never seen anything quite like it.
“Solomon,” Ruiz calls out and a husky little man with a high-and-tight haircut appears.
“Sir?”
“Dead and wounded?”
“Casey and Hicksman, sir. Both of them were bitten during the first wave, we had to...”
“You don’t have to explain, I get it.”
“Yes sir.” Solomon nods and hurries off in the other direction.
We move slowly. Careful to step over and around the fallen Rabid. Men walk the graveyard before us with their empty rifles hung low, covered in black blood. Looks of horror and disgust line their faces.
“Good job, boys,” Ruiz says as we pass them by. “You go get yourselves cleaned up. Get some sleep. You’ve earned it.”
A boy, probably a few years younger than me, runs up to us, breathless, afraid, with filth covered features. “Mr. Ruiz, you’ve gotta...you’ve gotta...come, quick,” he pants.
“What’s the matter, boy?”
“It’s...Loco. He’s bit, sir. Bit pretty good. Gonna be turning.”
Loco, I recognize the name right off, the guy with the machete, the one I’d loaned my Ruger to during the battle.
Damn shame.
“Oh, Jesus,” Ruiz sighs. “Katia, get him back...”
“No,” I cut in, “I want to go with you, I want to be there, however I’m able.” I ease myself away from Katia, standing on my own two feet. “I can walk. I’m not gonna slow you down.”
Ruiz shrugs. “Alright, it’s up to you,
but I’m warning you, this is gonna be ugly.”
I nod. “I’ve seen ugly.”
Loco is about a hundred yards up, past the Humvees, propped up against one of the cement support columns weaved throughout the perimeter of the security gate. The Ruger lays on the grass beside him, empty, the slide locked back. He’s clutching his arm against his stomach and sweating like a hog, but, he smiles at our approach.
“I bit off more than I could chew this time, eh, Ruiz?” Loco’s laughter is broken by coughing fits. He holds up the injured arm. His wrist is a mess of mangled flesh and splintered bone. “They got me good.”
Ruiz kneels beside him. “Looks like you went down swinging, hermano.”
“Literally, damn gun ran out of bullets. I was pistol whipping motherfuckers.” He laughs. Coughs. Blood streams from between his lips. His eyes are fogging over. “I can feel it happening. I used to talk shit, you know? About how we all had to go at some point, and I wanted to go down fighting. Now, here I am, and I’m fucking terrified, bro.”
“It’s okay to be scared. We’re in it with you my friend, all the way, we’ve got you.”
Other men are beginning to gather. They’re reaching in to pat Loco on the shoulder and to shake his good hand.
“You’re a trooper.”
“Way to take it to em’, Loc’.”
He returns the accolades to the best of his ability. His body vibrates under a blanket of cold sweat. The color begins to drain from his face. Still, he smiles and nods.
To ward off the terror perhaps?
I imagine I’d be kicking and screaming. The pistol would already be in my mouth.
I’ll take the bullet over the bite any day.
Katia steps in closer to me. She wraps her arms around mine and sets her chin on my shoulder. “He doesn’t have long,” she whispers.
A warning? In case, I want to turn away?
“Ruiz, can I...see my family, before, you know...”
“Of course.” Ruiz sits down beside Loco and wraps an arm around his neck. He points to two men in the growing crowd. “You two, get his family. Bring them here, fast as you can.”
The two men Ruiz chose from the crowd aren’t gone for long. The wailing of women heralds their return.
A wife.
A daughter.
The Rabid: Rise Page 7
