The infected breach the corner of the tunnel. They funnel into the small space as one massive blob of hate and rage. Their menacing wails merge as one deafening voice.
I pick my targets at random, and open fire as I backpedal behind the safety of the steel gate. A mixture of upper torso and headshots sends the chasers in the lead crumbling to the water below. The infected trailing trample the fallen and maintain pursuit.
The pistol clicks empty as Bill shoves past me. He grabs the gate, and yanks it shut as the chasers collide into the bars.
“Christ almighty!” be bellows while steering clear of the chasers’ rapacious fingers.
Every inch of the gate has rotting flesh smashed against its reddish-orange steel bars. Skeletal arms swing and reach for us with the hopes of snaring a loose piece of our clothing.
I look to Bill who is next to me and starring at the dead trying to break through. “Will it hold?”
He turns sharply about then shrugs. “It just needs to hold long enough for us to get out of here.”
With their bodies pressed against the gate, they won’t be able to open it. I watch them for a hair longer to make sure it holds.
Bill clears his throat. “You coming, or are you going to stand there and tease them?”
Funny.
I back away from the gate and sneer. I turn to the mound of rubble that sits at the foot of a gaping hole in the ceiling. Bill and Duke are at the top, peering at me.
Bill stretches out his hand and helps me up the slope of busted asphalt and concrete. We’re in the middle of a street now littered with bullet-riddled cars.
“I never want to do anything like that ever again,” I grumble.
“You survived, though, right?”
We did by the skin of our teeth.
“Sure.”
Duke shakes the pooh water from his body. I wish I could do the same. I’m bathed in the filth of humanity from head to toe. I’d love nothing more than to have it washed off, but know that, for now, it isn’t going to happen.
Bill presses the ridge of his hand just above his brow and scans over the buildings that line both sides of the street. He spins in a circle with his head tilted back.
We’re surrounded by large-orange cones that have yellow caution tape fixed to the tips. I squint down the street as my eyes adjust from the darkness to the daylight. It takes a moment, but the subtle haze dissolves.
I listen for any chasers who might be within earshot of us, but hear nothing more than the growls of the infected below.
The city is silent—no hint or whisper of gunfire or other unsettling sounds to trigger my nerves. I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. Sometimes, the silence can be just as lethal as any noise.
Bill smacks my chest with the back of his hand.
I flinch, then cut my eyes at him. “What the heck, man.”
He nods at the buildings in front of us. “There, near the corner just inside the alleyway.”
I crane my neck, trying to spot what he’s found, but can’t seem to locate it. “What? I don’t see anything.”
He grumbles, then leans toward me. “Don’t make it obvious you’re looking. You’ll scare him off.”
Him?
I look once more, a bit more discreet this time in search of the person who is watching us. It takes me a moment to spot the dark-brown hair poking out from the alleyway.
“Who is it?”
Bill cycles a round, then glances at the man spying on us. “Hive.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The mere mention of Hive floods my body with anger. I know I should be concerned for our safety, given what Bill has told me about the group, and the fact that he’s chambered a round in his pistol, but I can’t help but see red. Hive has taken the people who matter most to me in this world, and I want them back.
I snarl and grit my teeth. My contempt for the depraved group of thugs is not well concealed. Not by a long shot.
Bill looks to the rooftops of the buildings. He skims over them with a keen eye as I stare at the alleyway.
“We have to play this smart if we’re going to make it out alive and find your friends,” he cautions. “The members of Hive are known for traveling in packs, so where there’s one, there’s probably more.”
My fingers squeeze the grip of the handgun tighter. The blood coursing through my veins boils with contempt for the vile group. With the way I’m feeling, they’re going to need all of the men they can muster.
I nod in the direction of the surly man who locks onto my gaze. “That piece of trash over there could be of use to us. I have questions and he’ll have the answers.”
“Listen, I get it. I know how you’re feeling, but we need to—”
That’s enough talking. It’s time for action.
I take off in a dead sprint up the street while Bill is still speaking. Duke chases after me and matches my sprint stride for stride. The man ducks into the cover of the alley and vanishes from my sight.
“James, wait!” Bill yells out. “It could be a trap!”
His words fall on deaf ears. All I can think of is getting to Cindy and Cassie, and making the people who shot Lucas pay for what they’ve done.
I veer toward the sidewalk, and thread my body through the narrow gap between two trucks that are parked alongside the street. We jump up to the trash-covered walkway and keep running.
Bill continues to holler out to me as he gives pursuit, but I ignore him just the same. My mind is focused on one thing—getting to that guy at any cost.
The gear on my back bounces and shifts every which way. With every step, gravity yanks the bag down and burdens me with the additional load. Despite how tired and out of it I am, I manage to dig deep and push on.
We reach the end of the sidewalk, and slow our pace. I drift closer to the brick buildings and train the pistol at the corner. I look across the street for any movement, but detect no threats, living or dead.
Duke is poised to strike, crouched down low with his ears on end. He looks up to me, waiting for my command. I hold my palm up, which stops him cold.
We creep to the edge of the building. I can hear Bill’s feet hammer down the sidewalk after us. He yells in an angry whisper, which is faint but loud enough for me to make most of it out.
“James, you need to stop right now. We need to think this through before you get yourself, and me, killed.”
I poke my head around the edge of the building. There’s no sign of the man within the trash filled passageway. He could be hiding in any number of places, though. Dumpsters, ramshackle cars, and any of the other buildings that have a side entrance.
Bill catches up just as Duke and me skirt the building and advance into the alley. He sighs aloud, then grumbles under his breath, but he follows me just the same. He could cut his losses and bail. I’m thankful that he hasn’t. He should understand what’s at stake for me, and I believe he does. My family is all but gone, and I can’t risk losing what I have left.
Duke sniffs the ground, then pauses. He lifts his front paw off the ground as he investigates the scent he’s picked up. I follow suit, and sweep the sides of the alleyway. “You got something, boy?”
He looks straight ahead, and groans.
Bill glances to the street, then swipes the back of his hand across his brow. He flicks the sweat from the glove in a huff. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this. You don’t know these people like I do.”
I cut my gaze to him. “I’ve had more than my fair share of run-ins with people like this since things have gone to crap, and I do know what they are capable of. My friend is dead because they shot him, and my family’s life hangs in the balance. Every second we keep bickering about this, that a-hole is getting away, and I cannot let that happen. He can probably give us inside information on their numbers and such. Hell, they could be holding my family in a different place now than when you were with them last.”
Trash cans dump over, which stalls our debate. I look down the alley, and
find the man pounding the pavement as he glances over his shoulder at us. A portion of his coat conceals his face, leaving only his narrow, mischievous eyes.
“Come on, boy.” Duke and I race after him. Duke pulls ahead and gallops at full speed, widening the distance between us.
A nagging pain festers in my side, and slows my stride. My face scrunches in discomfort as I wheeze and grab my ribs.
Bill gets alongside me and notices that my forearm is cradling my mid-section. “Perhaps we should pull back, and let you rest.”
“I’ll pull back once we have that dirtbag in our grasp,” I growl.
Duke maneuverers through the obstacle course of clutter that spans the alleyway with ease. He doesn’t break his stride as he closes in on our target.
The man steers toward the buildings to our left. He comes to a screeching halt in front of a dark red door. He tosses it open, then offers another devilish smirk as he slips inside.
Duke pushes harder and tries to make it inside before the door shuts. It closes just as he nears the edge. He raises up on his hind legs and scratches at the worn paint on the front. He barks and howls then looks to us.
Bill splits apart from me and charges around a blue sedan that sits parked at an angle in the alley. A large, gray dumpster rests against the wall with bags of trash piled inside and out of the container. I leap over, and dodge the waste as I shoot the gap.
Duke drops to all fours as we approach the entrance. He scoots away as I grab the handle. I pause for only a brief moment to catch my breath before slinging the door open.
Gunfire erupts. We scramble to either side of the door for cover. Four shots rattle off before it stops. Bill toes the jamb of the entrance and returns fire without looking.
His canon barks its harsh report as fire breathes from the barrel. He pulls back and we wait for a counter attack.
No return fire is given from the man. I slide down the wood grain of the door and peer inside the interior of the building.
The man is back on the run down the stretch of hallways. The soles of his shoes squeak with every step he takes.
I head in with my pistol at the ready. Duke stays close. Bill covers our rear as we make our way down the hallway.
We hit the end of the corridor that opens up into a large reception area. Bill hangs back and sweeps the space from the safety of the hallway as I take cover on the opposite side. I rap my hand on the side of my leg which brings Duke to my side.
“He’s got to be somewhere in here,” I whisper under my breath.
A large, wooden receptionists’ desk is nestled in the corner across the room. He could be hiding behind it.
I crane my neck, and lift up on my toes, trying to peer over the scarred top that encompasses the upper half of the desk. Duke pants with his tongue dangling out the side of his snout. He licks around the rim of his mouth, and groans.
Yeah. I hear you, boy.
“You got eyes on him?” I call out to Bill.
He has a better vantage point at the desk and is taller than me. Bill raises up on the front part of his feet and tilts his head back. He places two fingers in front of his eyes, then points in a particular area.
I nod and exhale a short breath through pursed lips as Bill slips out from the safety of his cover. Gunfire erupts from behind the desk. Bill covers his head and scurries back to the corner of the hallway.
Duke cowers next to my legs as I drop to the floor and drape my body over his. Round after round batters the wall above my head. I catch a glimpse of the man darting out from behind the desk and sprinting across the expanse of the space toward the staircase.
The gunfire ebbs as the man lowers his weapon and hits the bottom step. I spring up from my crouched position, and try to get a bead on him. He takes two steps at a time, flying up the flight of stairs.
I hone in on his legs and pull the trigger. The gun clicks empty. I squeeze the trigger again, but get much the same. It takes a second for me to remember that I haven’t changed out the spent magazine from when it clicked empty in the sewers.
Damn it.
I eject the spent mag and toss it. I bury my hand into the backs of my pant pockets, unsure if I have a spare ready to go. I keep my gaze fixed on the man as he sprints up the stairs, then vanishes from our sight.
“You good, James,” Bill calls out.
I nod. “Yeah. You?”
“Yeah. I’m good.” Bill’s voice is strained and thick with tension.
With joy, I pull the last remaining magazine free of my pocket. I slip it into the well and secure it in place with a rap of my palm against the base. A round is cycled. I’m good to go.
“Let’s go, boy.” Duke and me bolt from the wall and race toward the stairs. Bill gives pursuit as more gunfire spawns from down the hall behind us.
“Damn it!” He hisses as he stops and gets clear of the hallway. He scoots over and leans against the wall near the corner. “They’re flanking us.”
The spiderwebbed glass doors to our left rattle under the infecteds’ fists. I turn toward the disturbance, and walk sideways with the pistol trained on the creatures. They smoosh their faces against the windows, and pound their fists at the door in protest as they stare at us.
“Go. I got this!” Bill yells out over the hammering of incoming gunfire from down the hallway.
He spins out from the corner and returns fire.
Duke hits the stairs and gallops up multiple steps at a time. I follow his lead, and stay fixed on his furry behind. My hand glides along the banister as we work our way up the sprawling staircase that slithers along the wall. I glance down to the main floor, and watch as Bill returns fire.
We stop shy of the first floor. I grab Duke by his collar, and hold him back from the dark hall before us. He lunges forward, but I keep him from charging off on his own.
“Hold on, boy. He could be hiding anywhere up here. Give me a second to check it out.”
Glass shatters below. The chasers charge inside the building, trampling the shards of the busted window as they howl. The sharp report of gunfire echoes through the building. Four shots pop off in rapid succession, followed by the thump of what I hope are the chasers hitting the floor.
Bill.
I step toward the railing, and move my head around to see if I can get eyes on Bill, or the chasers. From my vantage point, I can only see a sliver of the floor. A dead body is sprawled across it. It’s not Bill, that much is certain. The pants are the wrong color, and the tone of the skin is a pasty white.
“Bill!” I call out. I wait for his gruff voice to respond with a snide comment or agitated growl, but get nothing from him.
I move down a few steps to see if I can get a better look. A door slams shut from the hallway. Duke takes off in a dead sprint into the veil of darkness.
“Duke! Wait!” I growl, but he doesn’t listen.
I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. I glance to the ground floor for Bill, then to the hallway where Duke took off. I don’t hear either of them. My stomach twists in knots.
Argh.
I pound the palm of my hand against the railing in frustration.
A faint yelp escapes from the hallway and frays my nerves.
Oh no. Duke!
I race up the steps, and hit the landing of the first floor. I hug the wall, and toe the edge of the eerie corridor. My hand digs out the flashlight from my moist coat pocket. The feeling of the soggy fabric and stench radiating off me adds to the sickening feeling I’m already battling.
“Duke. Come here, boy,” I call out. “I’ve got some treats for you.” It’s a white lie at best that may draw him back to me.
I thumb the button on the flashlight repeatedly, but it refuses to turn on. Christ. Come on! I shake it hard and cuss under my breath until the beam fires from the end. It flickers and dims, then brightens to full strength.
I lean to the side, and train the light down the hallway across from me. I spot no movement within the darkness, and I don’t hear any s
ubtle sounds that would indicate someone is down that way.
My eyes close, and I repeat to myself that everything’s going to be all right. That both Duke and Bill are ok.
I press the pistol to the middle of my forehead and exhale a deep breath. It’s go time.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Before the chaser outbreak, the thought of taking a person’s life never crossed my mind. It wasn’t until the world ended, and I was confronted with the worst humanity had to offer that I started to think otherwise. Now, it doesn’t bother me as much, if at all.
The floor creaks under my weight. I freeze and listen for a reaction from the stretch of hallway before me. A faint whistling sound grabs my ear. Could be coming from the busted windows the chasers destroyed.
I’m starting to regret my decision in pursuing this piece of crap. Bill was right. Perhaps, I should have listened to what he was saying, held back, and plotted out our next move instead of acting on impulse and charging in blindly.
It’s too late for that, though. There is no going back in time and changing anything. I can only handle what is in front of me now, and hope that both Bill and Duke are ok.
“I hope you haven’t hurt my dog, because if you have, I can promise you that you’ll regret it ten times over,” I threaten.
I glance over each side of the hallway for any hints or clues as to where the man might be with Duke. I know he did something with him.
Most of the doors are shut and locked tight. I see no light emitting from under the doors or hear any noises that let me know where they are.
I spot something to my right inside the entryway of a room a few spots up from me. The light hones in on the ghastly gray blob and reveals a dingy golden yellow coat of fur. It’s Duke!
He’s flat on his side. My heart sinks. He can’t be dead.
I rush to his aid. The boards sound off with every hard step I make. I drop to my knees outside of the room, and look him over. The pistol stays trained ahead as my free hand pushes the door open.
I shake him. “Boy, it’s James. Please be ok. You have to be all right.”
Dead State Box Set [0-5] Page 79
