The Dark Trilogy

by Patrick D'orazio

  His black leather boot pressed down on the gas pedal as they sped past the car trap he and Ben had created. It was a nifty little setup. Too bad they had netted such a worthless bunch of losers with it. Michael gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter and clenched his jaw muscles until they ached. Rage whipped through him like a poisonous wind, and he pressed his foot down even harder, watching the speedometer inch up. Jeff’s presence felt like a blood-sucking tick pulsating in his ear.

  Soon.

  That one word dampened the anger, took the edge off of it. They would be done with this stinking place, and then he would be done with Jeff for good. Once they got past the town, he could clean house.

  Michael swerved to avoid a loose configuration of limbs and teeth waggling at him, excited and energized to see flesh behind the wide glass bubble of the windshield. One of the slugs pointed at him, and for a moment, he felt like a menu selection at some posh restaurant. He resisted the urge to run it down, straightening the wheel as the RV rolled past. He could not let his anger get the best of him. The distractions outside were nothing compared to the pains in the ass in the back of the RV.

  Soon.

  Chapter 4

  The crash happened quickly.

  Even if Frank had noticed the pileup in the middle of the street and warned Michael, they were going too fast to stop. As it was, Michael only saw the mess in the street at the last second and spun the wheel hard to the right as he slammed on the brakes. They hit the curb going forty miles per hour, and everything shifted as the rear of the Winnebago started to slide, the wheels on the right side of the beast going airborne.

  They landed on their left side, the ground rising up to shatter the windows. After that, the sound of screeching metal running along the asphalt drowned out everything else.

  When they stopped sliding, Michael felt nothing, but soon discovered several large chunks of treated window glass sticking out of his cheek and hands. There had been a huge whump when they made contact with the road, then he heard a sound like a thousand fingernails assaulting a chalkboard. The sound persisted, echoing inside his head as he lay strapped in the captain’s chair behind the steering wheel. Thoughts flew through his head as he gathered his wits: What had happened? Was he dead?

  Hearing a groan nearby, Michael looked up to see Frank dangling above him, his seatbelt holding him in place. He was conscious, but in a daze, his eyes trying to focus as he twisted and turned in his seat.

  Thank God that fat bastard snapped on his seatbelt before the crash, or he probably would have crushed me beneath his blubbery ass.

  Dismissing Frank for the moment, Michael’s eyes wandered toward the windshield as he tried to puzzle out what had happened. It had cracked, but hadn’t shattered. Glass had exploded upward as the left side of the RV made contact with the road, but that was underneath him. He had been wearing his seatbelt as well, which had prevented him from getting cut to ribbons as they slid along the asphalt.

  Over the ringing in Michael’s ears, he made out faint moans and several sharp cries of pain from the back of the motor home. He ignored the sounds as he twisted his head in an effort to see behind him.

  “Cindy?”

  Shifting his weight, Michael contorted his body, but still couldn’t look backwards. He reached down to the seatbelt snap. It wouldn’t pop with his weight pressing on it, so he put his left arm against the doorframe and braced his leg. He was careful to avoid more slivers of glass as he lifted his body off the strap holding him up. There was a clicking sound, and he was free. As Michael got his feet underneath him, he could hear glass grinding beneath his boots. He twisted until he was in a crouched position, standing on the left wall of the RV and looking toward the back of the vehicle.

  What a total cluster fuck. Michael could hear more screams from the back now and almost called out for the others. He stopped short as he looked at Cindy. Her entire left side was bloodied where glass and the impact with the asphalt had wounded her. She had not been wearing her seatbelt and had gone flying into the wall, skimming across several jagged shards of glass as she did so. Despite her new horror-show look, she was already standing and didn’t look all that dazed.

  Michael shifted his eyes up to Frank as he heard him groan. The slack-jawed look on his face wasn’t much different than his usual expression, but it was clear he was still groggy from the accident. His groaning continued as he shifted in an effort to free himself from his elevated prison.

  “Don’t undo your seatbelt, you idiot. You’ll fall on top of me.” Frank stopped squirming in his chair near the new roof and watched as Michael took out his knife. “I’ll cut you down. Just don’t land on your head. Brace yourself.”

  As he sawed at the belt, the ringing in Michael’s ears abated. Now, in addition to the cries of panic and pain inside the RV, he could hear other noises coming from outside.

  The infected were heading their way.

  As he cut through the tough, fibrous material of the seatbelt, Michael could almost smell the fear on his sweaty underling. Frank was pushing up against his armrest, and Michael wondered how long it could hold his massive weight. At least Frank’s effort was giving him enough room to slide the knife back and forth. Michael managed to cut through it in a few seconds, and after the final slice, he moved back toward Cindy, ignoring an imploring hand as it reached down from Frank’s precarious perch to request help getting down.

  “Well, how the fuck do we get out of here?” Cindy growled.

  Michael stiffened as he got a closer look at his girlfriend. Her arms were crossed, and there was a vicious snarl on her face. She was bleeding from a thousand tiny cuts on her face and arms, and bits of glass were lodged in most of her wounds. In the half-light sneaking in through the windows surrounding them, she looked more like a ghoul than one of the living.

  When Michael heard a thud behind him a moment later, he almost jumped out of his skin before realizing it was Frank.

  “Damn it! I lost the gun!”

  Michael looked back at the other man, who was scanning the RV’s new floor for the missing .357 Magnum that had fallen out of his pants. It was the excuse he needed to look away from the horror that was Cindy’s face.

  Michael gripped the strap attached to the M16. It had stayed in place through the accident, unlike everything else. As he looked at the jumble of boxes and other stuff strewn out behind them, Michael frowned. They hadn’t just lost the handgun. Many of the bags they had carried on board had burst open, and an assortment of clothing, canned goods, and other necessities was mixed together like some sort of strange potluck.

  He sighed. “Leave it. Leave it all. We don’t have the time to mess with this.”

  Frank looked stricken, but Michael ignored him. They were going to have to leave the other weapons behind as well. The rifles and shotgun were buried in the pile of crap on the floor with everything else. He motioned toward the front of the RV.

  “Let’s knock out the windshield.”

  When the bloody hand touched his shoulder, Michael almost screamed. He bit down hard on his tongue instead, gagging as Cindy spun him around. He could taste coppery blood in his mouth as he looked at her.

  “What about the others?”

  Michael stared into his girlfriend’s eyes, doing his best to ignore her gore-peppered skin. Taking a steadying breath, he looked at the back of the RV.

  The others were still trying to sort themselves out in the bedroom, and he heard a voice asking if everyone was okay. They were still in a haze back there. There weren’t any seatbelts in the back of the RV, so chances were they had all been tossed around quite a bit, and there was a good chance at least one of them was dead. Wasting time trying to sift through the mess back in the bedroom in an effort to save the others was a surefire way to get them all killed.

  Plus they all want you dead. The thought hit Michael like a punch in the gut. He wanted to deny the cold logic of the assessment, but he knew it was true. Even the look on Lydia’s face after he’d killed
Ray betrayed the fact that she’d lost all faith in him as a leader. Each and every one of them would betray him the first chance they got.

  “Fuck ‘em. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Frank looked happy with the decision. His darting eyes made it clear he was ready to get out of the RV and make a run for it. Cindy looked somewhat more reticent about the idea of abandoning the others, but Michael knew it had nothing to do with any affection she might be harboring for them.

  Michael pushed Frank aside and braced himself. Aiming his right foot at the crack in the windshield, he shot his boot out in a powerful kick, which landed with a thud against the tempered glass. Instead of the satisfying crunch of glass, he felt something pop inside his ankle. He resisted the urge to cry out as pain knifed through his foot and charged up his leg. Gripping the chair, the injured man pinched his eyes shut as he raised his foot, afraid to put it back down.

  “Nice try, hot shot. Why don’t you just use the butt of your rifle on it instead?”

  Michael tried to ignore Cindy’s snide tone as he stared at the windshield. His effort had created a few more spider webs, but the glass was still in place. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he tried to keep his breathing calm.

  Tensing, he put his foot back on the floor. Although his ankle hurt like hell, he was certain he hadn’t broken anything. Doing a reasonable balancing act, he slid the rifle off his back. Cindy was right about using it on the glass, though Michael hated to admit it. Careful to keep most of his weight on his left foot, he slammed the butt of the weapon into the glass. The pain was incredible as the blows vibrated his arms before the windshield gave way. When the glass finally collapsed, Michael pushed aside the remaining stalagmites and stalactites and limped outside.

  Frank was glued to his ass, anxious to be free of the dungeon the motor home had become. Cindy hesitated, staring toward the back of the RV, watching and listening as the other passengers collected themselves.

  “Quit fucking around, Cindy! We’ve gotta get moving!”

  Cindy ignored Frank’s nervous command as she squinted, looking back into the gloom of the motor home one last time. The sun was bright, but not shining directly behind her, and it floated through the windows and danced on the wreckage, swirls of dust moving lazily over everything.

  The door near the back of the RV was opened. Two of the men had been outside the bedroom when the crash occurred, and one was already at the edge of the wall, leaning over it, trying to help those stuck in the back. The other still lay on the floor, unmoving.

  She wasn’t interested in either of them. Cindy stood on the tips of her toes, desperately trying to see inside the bedroom. She cursed silently when she got nothing better than a glimpse of frantic movement beyond the Good Samaritan at the doorway.

  With a sigh of regret, the bloodied woman turned and climbed out of the shattered windshield. As she did, the man on the floor opened his eyes to watch her leave. When he was certain the punker girl was gone, he searched the debris surrounding him. He stopped when he found what he had spotted earlier and shoved the object into his pocket. He then stood up and turned to help the other man with the rest of the passengers.

  Chapter 5

  Michael led the way as the threesome moved away from the wreckage. It was easy to steer clear of the ghouls that were shambling toward the RV. The sounds of shouting and cries of pain from inside the vehicle were enough of a lure that none of the rotters seemed too interested in following the fleeing trio. Leading his small contingent down one of the nearby cross streets, he was able to gain some separation from the milling corpses.

  His ankle was throbbing, but he discovered that if he was careful, he could put some weight on his foot and maintain a decent walking speed.

  “You okay?”

  Michael shot Frank an angry look.

  “What?” Frank stepped back, out of Michael’s range. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right.” His voice sounded defensive and whiny as his eyes traveled from Michael’s face to the M16 and then back down to the ground.

  A grin nearly split Michael’s face in half. Frank couldn’t have made his desires any more obvious. The fat man was unarmed for the first time in forever, and it was not sitting well with him.

  Michael dismissed Frank for the moment and studied Cindy, who kept looking back at the RV. He slowed his pace until he was walking next to her.

  “Feeling a little guilty, my darling? Do you want to go back and help the poor little plebes?”

  Cindy’s head whipped around, her expression menacing. Michael continued to taunt her.

  “You go right ahead, sugar britches. Go save those poor little lost lambs.”

  It was clear he had struck a nerve from the growing look of resentment on Cindy’s face. She did want to go back to the RV, for whatever twisted reason. Michael moved in for the kill.

  “Sorry, sweets, no time for more of your games. But I’ll tell you what: if one of your pals back there happens to get up after that crowd of stiffs is done with them, feel free to turn around. Then you guys can have all the fun you want, okay?”

  After watching Cindy glare at him with raw hatred for a few seconds, Michael grabbed her shoulder and pulled her close. His voice had been soft and taunting up to that point, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Now his face was dark and tight with anger, his words coming out in a hiss.

  “Listen, Cindy, I’m done with your bullshit. We’re not turning around to save those dumb fucks just so you can torture them some more. Just get that idea out of your thick goddamned skull so we can focus on more important things, like getting the hell out of here.”

  The sly smile that appeared on Cindy’s face threw Michael off. Her hand slid around his neck until she was able to run her fingers through his dark brown hair. He did his best to ignore her ravaged face as she gently pulled his head toward her lips until they were close enough to graze his earlobe.

  “I’m really sorry, baby,” Cindy whispered in a husky voice. “But it looks like they’re not the only ones that need saving.”

  She nibbled on his ear, gently tugging at first, but then Michael felt a sharp pain as she sank her teeth in, ripping away part of his earlobe.

  “You stupid bitch!” Michael screamed as he gave Cindy a violent shove. Her laughter sent a spike of anger through him as she landed hard on the asphalt. Grabbing for his ear, he hissed in pain as his fingers met raw, torn flesh. Cindy continued to laugh hysterically as her boyfriend’s blood dribbled down her chin. As the shock of what had just happened wore off, Michael limped toward his assailant, a homicidal look in his eyes.

  “Michael … MICHAEL!”

  Michael cursed and turned to see what was so important that Frank was screaming at him.

  There were two stiffs coming toward them.

  Michael felt his skin grow cold, and the anger with Cindy evaporated as he stared at the ghouls.

  One was small, withered, hunched over. The other stood tall and ramrod straight, its spine unaffected despite its having been dead for several weeks. They had crept out of a store nearby whose door was hanging wide open. They made a fine odd couple: one looked like a little old lady—stiff, brittle, and fighting a monumental case of arthritis, while the other looked like a young boy who had been cut down in the prime of his life. It looked like the younger of the two had a lazy eye, but Michael realized the socket had been traumatized and the eyeball was floating freely inside the creature’s skull. Its other eye stayed focused on Michael. The old woman (or man or deformed child … he really couldn’t tell) let loose with an excited moan, and a thick pus-colored liquid spilled from its mouth.

  “What, don’t you find me fascinating anymore, darling?”

  Michael ignored Cindy’s mocking words as he slid the M16 off his shoulder. Gripping the weapon in both hands, he drove the butt of the rifle into the face of the taller ghoul. Not waiting to see the results of his handiwork, he winced and shifted his weight, hip-checking his geriatric opponent to the g
round. Turning quickly despite his ankle, he saw that Stretch, as he had dubbed the taller stiff, was still vertical. The rotting creature had stumbled backwards from the blow to its nose, but hadn’t fallen. Michael advanced and slammed his rifle into Stretch’s head once again, ignoring the outstretched arms reaching for him. His blow connected with the boy’s forehead, and there was a satisfying pop as the younger assailant crumpled to the ground, inert. Michael gritted his teeth at the throbbing pain in his ankle and looked over at the older fiend, who was having a hard time getting back up. Before he could make a move, Cindy advanced on the aged ghoul. As the brittle creature reached out to grab her, she raised her right leg and brought it down hard on the bridge of its nose. Black goo squirted from the new fissure in its skull as Cindy ground her heel into the thing’s face. When its arms stopped twitching, Cindy stepped back to wipe her dripping shoe on the pavement.

  Michael glared at Frank as his dumbfounded crony stared at the remains of the ghoul near Cindy’s feet. “Feel free to jump in any time.”

  Frank looked confused, and his eyes grew wide. “I thought … I thought you were gonna shoot them.”

  “Idiot,” Michael mumbled under his breath as he turned and began walking again. He slung the rifle over his shoulder as he gently touched his bleeding ear. He would deal with Cindy later, but his first priority was to find a working vehicle so they could get the hell out of Manchester.