by Tim Moon
Charlotte’s eyes widened. “Oh my God.”
“Yeah, don’t hesitate either.”
Rounds whizzed overhead. Several struck the corner post near Charlotte’s head, showering her with splinters. She cursed and ducked down.
Ben stayed behind the hedges along the edge of the house. When he found a good spot, he took a knee and raised his rifle. The people on the roof were his main concern. He saw a muzzle flash off to his right, but he couldn’t take them out without exposing himself too much. So, he looked back at the burning roof across the street. The flames were spreading quickly along one half of the house. The two forms that had been silhouetted earlier were still there, but they’d moved to the other side, out of reach of the fire.
One guy held a bottle while his friend tried to light it. It looked as if he might be aiming for the front porch, right where Charlotte and Anuhea were taking cover. He quickly drew a bead on the guy and fired three times. The bottle left the man’s hand at the same time his body jerked and tipped sideways off the roof.
Hopefully dead, he thought.
The bottle arced forward causing Ben’s stomach to clench in disappointment until he realized there wasn’t much power behind the throw. It fell short and shattered on the sidewalk in front of the house, throwing up a fireball that stole whatever night vision he had left.
Ben blinked furiously to get the orange spot out of his vision. He heard shouts down the street to his right. He moved closer to the side of the porch stairs and then stood to peer over the cars. They were coming.
90
The neighborhood was bathed in the orange glow of two house fires. Shots went back and forth in short bursts. Ben saw three men charge across the street towards his house. He raised his rifle and fired rapidly. One dropped, but the other two fanned out as they cut sideways to duck behind a house further down the street.
“They’re on our right flank,” Ben said to his friends on the porch. “Watch the right, watch the right.”
Wood crackled and popped as the flames devoured his childhood home. He squinted up at the house and cursed.
“Fire!” Ben shouted. “The roof is on fire.”
It might have been a funny line under different circumstances.
Charlotte poked her head up again.
“Get to the garage,” Ben said. “I’m going to get Oliver.”
Chadwick hobbled down the stairs and ducked behind one of the cars on the front lawn. “Go! You too Anuhea. I’ll watch our flank.”
Rounds cracked overhead, forcing Charlotte to dive for cover. Once again, a round splintered the post beside her head. The other went high and busted out a window behind them.
“Keep your head down,” Ben shouted, returning fire. He thought he caught a glimpse of Mark. “There!”
Ben squeeze off two rounds, aiming high to avoid Oliver. The shots went too high because the guys ducked out of view a moment later. As if lamenting his miss, it began to rain. Light droplets pattered down on his jacket.
Anuhea dropped from the porch to join Ben. “Let’s go.”
He nodded at her with a grim expression. He had to trust his friends to fight on their own. “If you have to leave, take both cars to the fallback position,” Ben said.
Chadwick waved him off. “Go!”
Ben and Anuhea darted across the street to the side of the burning house, careful to dodge the holes they had dug. Ben slowed down at the side of the house and looked up, watching for enemies. At the back corner of the house, they peered around the edge.
“Clear,” Ben whispered. The only enemy he saw was splayed out, spread eagle on the ground.
A burst of gunfire erupted behind them, setting his teeth on edge. Anuhea nudged his elbow.
“They’ll be okay,” she said, sensing his reluctance.
Ben frowned. He trusted they could hold out. He knew that Oliver needed him now more than ever, so he pushed on through the hedges in the backyard to reach the fence. After listening for a moment, Ben pulled himself up to peer over the top. The next backyard appeared to be empty. He climbed over and took a knee. With his rifle raised, he scanned for the enemy as he waited for…
Anuhea dropped beside him with a light thump, landing in a crouch.
Like a damned ninja.
Mark had retreated that way with Oliver. As if he was in full blown Liam Neeson mode, Ben vowed to himself that he would find and kill Mark. Tense, hushed voices could be heard coming from the front of the house. Footsteps slapped the pavement and a man shouted but his words were cut off by the sound of gunfire in the distance.
Ben glanced at Anuhea and could tell she heard them too. They crept forward with their barrels raised, ready to fire. Hoping against all hope that Oliver would be just around the corner.
A gust of wind whipped by and it smelled of burnt wood and damp leaves. When it died down, they heard low moaning. The telltale chorus of the dead.
Anuhea cursed softly.
Ben’s lips pressed together in a tight line. They had to move. A flash of movement on his left caught his eye. He bumped Anuhea’s shoulder, pointed in the direction of the movement, and then rushed towards the back of the house. Several more shadows coalesced into human shapes running down the street.
Ben rushed out to get a clear line of sight. He tracked the shadows in the ambient glow of the fires raging behind them. Mark and the fleeing men crossed the street with Oliver and ran through another backyard. Ben realized that their chase had taken them beyond the safety of the wall. A sense of unease settled over him.
The attackers must have realized that too because they were now being hemmed in by a mass of infected. With all the noise, it was inevitable. Anuhea muttered a curse. Ben felt the same, as a tremor of fear shot through him. The attackers were now caught between the infected and two people. It didn’t take a genius to figure out which way they would choose to escape.
At least, that’s what Ben thought; except, they didn’t charge them. The man holding Oliver dashed for the nearest house. His men followed, firing off a few shots that forced Ben and Anuhea to take cover. Ben dove to the ground and rolled until he came to a cluster of bushes. They wouldn’t stop bullets, yet they somehow gave him comfort. Ben rose to a knee to see which house they had entered. Mark turned back and caught Ben’s eye. They stared at each other for a moment before Mark continued his escape.
That motherfucker is gonna pay.
Ben felt a tug on his jacket.
“What?” he snapped.
“Take cover,” she yelled at him.
Two men in the street, stopped running and turned to fire wild bursts in their direction. Ben flattened out as if trying to become one with the damp lawn. The cold water soaked into his pants. Infected staggered down the street from both ends of the block in slow-motion pursuit.
“Oliver!” Ben yelled. “We’re coming for you!”
Anuhea shot one of the men in the road. He collapsed, screaming and clutching at his ruined leg.
The boy was so close it drove Ben mad. Fire seethed inside him at Mark’s betrayal. Their trap had worked so well, so easily. How had they known Ben would show up at SportsMart?
Ben scrambled out from under Anuhea and took aim at the last few men as they ran up the stairs into the house across the street. His first wild shot missed. The next was low and hit a man in the calf. He collapsed on the stairs, screaming. His howls eliciting a chorus of moans from the infected closing in. The guy in the doorway stopped and turned to glance at his friend.
Ben let out a breath and squeezed the trigger. The round punched the man in the chest causing his shoulder to jerk back a little. He looked down in shock as his knees gave out and he crumpled onto the porch.
Infected continued to close in from either side of the street and a few emerged from in between houses. They had to follow the men into the house to save Oliver. Piercing shrieks that heralded the approach of sprinters echoed down the block. A chill ran down Ben’s neck.
“Let’s move,” Ben s
aid, glancing at his friend.
“I’m with you,” Anuhea said.
Ben pressed his lips together in a tight line. Then he took a deep breath and sprinted across the street.
The man on the stairs continued to moan in pain. He didn’t even try to resist. Ben grabbed his weapon and threw it to the side and then stomped on his injured leg. His ankle made a sharp crack. He would play the role of decoy, drawing in and distracting the infected. The sprinters howled again with even more urgency.
“Leave him,” Ben said when he saw Anuhea behind him.
The door was propped open by the body of the man he’d shot in the chest. He sat in the doorway with his head down, as if contemplating the stain on his chest. Ben knew he was dead. More fodder for the undead.
Stepping over, Ben glanced into the darkened interior. His own pulse thudded in his ears. He leaned back so he didn’t get shot in the head and strained for any sound or hint where the others were hiding. To the best of his knowledge, there were still at least four men. One of which was Mark.
Bad odds in tight quarters, Ben thought nervously. He wiped sweat from his upper lip and tried to slow his breathing.
Anuhea peered through the front window, carefully scanning inside. She looked over at him and nodded. He knew that meant the living room was clear. He hoped their practice clearing houses would pay off and they wouldn’t be torn apart in the kill zone.
Stepping through the door felt like stepping into an alternate reality. His senses seemed to pick up every sound, every wisp of air brushing his skin, and every miniscule movement. His breathing billowed loud and fast in his ears and he gripped his rifle as his life depended on it.
The living room was clear, so they crept further inside.
Ben stopped at a corner and leaned slowly forward to peer into the hall. It was so dark he couldn’t tell what was down there. Instinct told him that’s where the others were. The kitchen and dining room were to his right, so he went that way first. No sense strolling down a narrow hall if someone could ambush you from behind.
Anuhea motioned the other way, indicating she would go through the living room to reach the kitchen from the other side. With a nod, Ben started forward. The dining room was modestly appointed with a worn oak table and matching chairs. He crouched low to check under the table.
A grunt and a yelp came from the kitchen. Ben stood and lunged toward the doorway to the other room so quickly that he bumped into a chair and nearly fell. He could hear Anuhea struggling with someone. A single pop of gunfire made his stomach clench.
Rushing into the room, Ben saw a large form kneeling on top another like a mixed-martial arts fighter. The body was far too large to be Anuhea, so he aimed high and shot. The sound was painfully loud in the small tiled room but not nearly as painful as a .223 round through the torso. The attacker grunted and arched backwards. Ben was about to call out for Anuhea when a flash of metal was followed by a gurgling sound from the knife she buried in the man’s throat.
Anuhea shoved the man’s body off to the side and scrambled to her feet, gasping for air.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
Anuhea rubbed her throat and coughed but managed a nod. She jabbed her finger towards the hallway and lumbered after him.
Ben stepped back into the dining room and a shit-storm of lead burst from the hallway. Muzzle flashes gave him a brief glimpse of the shooter as he flinched away. The rounds punched through the wall beside him. He stumbled back, retreating to the kitchen under a steady hail of bullets. Rounds smashed into cupboards, shattered a window, and somehow made the refrigerator door pop open, unleashing the hellish stench of rotten food.
The onslaught died away as screams on the porch, followed by the wet slurp of the dead feasting, marked the arrival of the first infected. Ben could hear their footsteps pounding on the stairs and the porch. Then they began to claw and bang at the front door. Now, the only escape was through the back door. Ben gritted his teeth. He wasn’t leaving without Oliver.
“Give me the boy!” Ben shouted.
“Fuck you,” one of them hollered back.
“Ben!” Oliver yelped with hope in his voice before he was muffled.
Anuhea crept into the living room and squeezed off a few rounds.
“Careful,” Ben said.
She turned a powerful stink eye on him. The message was clear: no words of warning were necessary. He knew she understood the risk. It had been an instinctual warning.
Ben looked around the kitchen and spotted the back door. He let out a sigh. The enemy was trapped in the house with them. They held a hostage while Ben and Anuhea effectively blocked their escape from the house.
“How many of them are left?” Ben whispered.
“Three maybe?” Anuhea shrugged. “What’s the plan?”
Ben clenched his teeth. He wasn’t sure exactly what to do. “We’re between them and the only exit not blocked by the infected.”
“Not much we can do. Either attack or wait for them outside.”
A shotgun boomed in the tight space and punched a hole through the wall nearby. Dust and bits of drywall and wood peppered Ben and Anuhea as they knelt on the floor. The enemy decided for them. Footsteps thumped through the dining room. Anuhea raised her rifle and fired at an upward angle. A man grunted and crashed into table and chairs.
Rounds slammed into the edge of the cabinets that Anuhea leaned against. She flung herself towards Ben who inched to the doorway to the living room. He grabbed Anuhea’s hand and pulled her to him.
Another man charged through the living room, coming around to flank them from the other side. He fired wildly into the kitchen, missing them by feet. The thumping on the front door intensified and the groans of the undead grew louder. Screams of the runners cut through the noise and made the hair on Ben’s neck tingle.
Anuhea charged at the man she’d shot to finish him off. Not wanting to be flanked, Ben scrambled away from the cabinets and swung his rifle towards the living room. The tile floor was covered in splinters of wood and bits of cheap countertop.
Ben took two shots, forcing the man to dive to the side and take cover against the wall. One of the shots had gone wide and exploded the front window. Howling infected began to push through the gaping hole, unconcerned that shards of glass slashed them as they fought to get inside. Ben squeezed the trigger again, but it clicked dry and he noticed that the bolt had locked back. He was out of ammo.
Scrambling to reload, Ben slid back. He slammed the refrigerator door shut, leaning against it as he pulled a new magazine out. He peeked around the corner of the fridge and his mouth went dry. Infected were already flopping over the window sill. As he watched, three stood and reached towards the man in the living room. The man roared in fear and shot two of them, apparently forgetting Ben was somewhere behind him. More zombies tumbled inside, shoving their way through the shattered window without an ounce of grace.
“Infected are coming in,” Ben said to Anuhea as he slammed a loaded mag into the magazine well. He pressed the bolt release and turned to see what Anuhea was doing.
“Don’t fucking move,” a man said, glowering down at Ben. He held a hefty pistol aimed at Anuhea’s head in one hand and a rope that was tied to Oliver’s hands in the other. Rage lit Ben’s eyes at the sight of Oliver with a pillow case over his head. From the muffled crying, Ben figured that his mouth must have been taped shut too.
Ben froze.
He wanted to fight, but the man had the drop on him and controlled the lives of two people he cared about. The man in the living room backed against the wall near Ben, fighting his own hellish war against the infected swarming through the shattered window. From the sound of it, the front door wouldn’t hold much longer either.
“We have to go, Nick,” the man shouted. He backed into the kitchen, panting and risking a glance to survey the scene. A wolfish grin spread across his unshaven face. “We got ‘em.”
The man with the pistol glared at his lackey with disdain.
“You didn’t do shit. I got ‘em.” He sneered at the other man. “Shut your fucking mouth and watch the front.”
He pressed the pistol against Anuhea’s head causing her to grimace. Ben met his glower with one of his own, despite being nearly helpless on the floor. They stared at each other for several long seconds while shots rang out in the living room.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ben saw Anuhea inching one hand down to her waist. He forced himself not to look and give her away. The furrow of his brows deepened, and he sneered at the man. He had to distract him.
“What the fuck do you want, man?”
“Drop your weapon or I’ll shoot this bitch.”
With a sneer of disdain, Ben flung his rifle aside. It hit the cabinet with a loud thump, masking the sound of Anuhea’s movement. He shifted to a kneeling position to keep the man’s eyes on him. He pressed the pistol against Anuhea’s head again but didn’t look down.
“So, now what?” Ben asked slowly.
“We’ll take down your friends…”
“Why?”
The man continued as if Ben hadn’t interrupted.
“…Using the three of you as bait,” the man said, patting Oliver’s covered head. “Then I’ll make you watch as I kill each of them before leaving you tied to a tree for the infected to gnaw on.”
The calm, icy tone sent a shiver down Ben’s spine. There was no doubt in his mind that this man would do it. Mustering as much courage and defiance as he could, Ben rolled his eyes and snorted derisively. He hoped the defiance looked more convincing than it felt.
“That’s rather specific,” Ben said with a slow shake of his head. He glanced down at the floor and saw that Anuhea had her knife in hand. “But I don’t think so.”
He lunged forward. As he hoped, the sudden movement made the man flinch, take a half-step back and start to raise the pistol towards him. Anuhea swung her arms around. One batted aside his gun while the other thrust the knife blade deep into his thigh. She didn’t stop there though.
