Blood Type Infected (Book 4): Betrayal of Hope

by Marchon, Matthew

  What the hell? Dammit. His body smacks off the back wheel before getting dragged behind us. He’s still hanging onto Felecia’s ponytail, I can tell by the added pressure of her grip on my chest. He’s not letting go and I don’t know what to do.

  The metal rim hits the pavement as the tire blows completely off. It grinds against the road with a sickly rattle that almost overpowers the sound of the alley kids gaining on us. Almost. But I can still hear the pitter patter of their feet on the tar. We could be running faster than we’re riding right now but honestly, I don’t think either of us could run if our lives depended on it. If? What am I saying? It doesn’t get much more life or death than this.

  A slight turn of my head confirms my suspicions. They are literally right there. They’re practically running beside us. Their little feet pound off the blacktop, clearly moving faster than our current 13 mph that feels more like a crawl when you’re watching a bunch of eight year olds saddle up beside you like it’s nothing. I can feel them closing in, surrounding us.

  Felecia lets go of my chest completely, not that she was actually holding on, she’s got a sword in each hand. Her legs tighten around my stomach as she leans back in an advanced level sit-up, swinging both swords behind her.

  The tension is gone immediately. She did it. You’ve gotta be kidding me. She knocked him off while doing a decline sit-up with broken ribs. She’s freakin’ Wonder Woman.

  His body slaps the pavement, colliding with some of the mini marathoners directly behind him. We’re picking up speed.

  She grunts and groans, trying to use her bruised belly muscles to pull herself back up but it’s not going so well. “Noah, I’m gonna fall.”

  I throw my hand back, still standing, pedaling as hard as my worn out legs will allow. Her chainmail is too slippery, I can’t get a grip. If she leans back any further, her head is going to get mauled by the rim of the bike and if I stop pedaling or slow down even the slightest bit, these fuckers will pounce. They’re diving after us as it is.

  Her wrist brushes against my fingers and I take the opportunity to grab on for dear life. I’m not sure what good it’ll do because I don’t see a way out of this but I pull with everything I have.

  She latches onto my back, tiny bursts of desperate breaths blowing against my neck as she wraps her arms around my chest. Her face presses against my shoulder, trying to regain her composure.

  “There’s too many,” she whimpers. “There has to be at least a couple hundred behind us. They just keep coming.”

  She must have been seeing them, upside down, as they piled out of the alleyway, their little hands reaching for her as she struggled to do a hanging sit up with the bent rim inches from the back of her skull.

  Before us, they’re filing out of the downtown shops where tourists pick up trinkets and surfboards and those little beaded necklaces they’ll get teased for wearing when they get home. They’re emerging from between buildings and cars that we should be safely inside right now. Safely? What kind of asinine statement is that? There is no safety in this world.

  There’s no way out of this. They’re closing in around us. Death from every angle. They’re drawn to the commotion, knowing it brings with it the possibility of food. Above us, they’re reaching out of the apartments over the storefronts, falling and jumping, throwing themselves down to the street for a chance to devour what will probably be the last humans they ever see. Let’s face it, there aren’t many of us left.

  I throw my weight down on the pedals with everything I have. The bike is getting more unstable with every rotation of the bent rim, it’s not going to last much longer. There’s no fighting our way out of this. You heard her. There’s too many in front of us. Behind us. Emerging from every crack and crevice Bayport’s downtown district has to offer. They splatter off the street from their three story freefalls and join the mass of inhumanity growing exponentially around us.

  It’s only a matter of time before this desecrated rim snaps under the pressure. I can feel its deformed shape begin to give beneath our combined weight. And when it does, I don’t know what to do. There’s nowhere to hide. They’re coming out of every building we pass, falling in line behind us, beside us, quickly closing the gap.

  And if memory serves me correctly, we’re running out of road. We need a fucking car and we need it now! No, forget a car, they’ll swarm it within seconds. We need a tank. We need a miracle. We need…

  The pier. The road ends at the pier. The boardwalk. We’re almost there.

  I used to love stopping near the top of the ferris wheel so I could watch the seals sunbathing on the rocky islands. Sea lions? I don’t remember. Some kind of sea creature. Not important. There’s rocky outcroppings not far offshore.

  We leave the pavement for the boardwalk and immediately gain some momentum. I have to say, the sound of the rim grinding on the wood is much more pleasant than the blacktop. The gaps between the boards makes it feel like we’re riding along train tracks.

  We whiz by restaurants and beer huts on our bumpy ride down the eerily silent pier. Tourists should be eating fried dough and sipping fruity drinks while their kids get temporary spider tattoos drawn on their sunburned skin. Fishermen should be making their way through the crowds where they cast their lines at the end of the dock. Even at night, this place should be bustling. It’s Friday, there’s supposed to be fireworks.

  The sickly rattle of our dilapidating bicycle cuts through the silence, bringing with it the horrific soundtrack of the infected. Their groans and howls overpower the waves gently lapping against the thick posts that support the pier. They’ve been here already, the devastation left in their wake evident. Picked over carcasses reach their frail hands towards us as we fly by, too decimated to get up and join the chase.

  I cut the wheel, bringing us close enough to the railing for me to grab the orange and white lifebuoy from its hook.

  “Oh shit, we’re doing what I think we’re doing, aren’t we?”

  “Pass me my sword. There’s another life preserver coming up, grab it.”

  The railings come to an end. We’re on the open dock now, twenty feet above the water. There’s no turning back. If the ocean doesn’t do what I hope it does, this is it for us. We’re out of road. There’s nowhere left to run. Let’s face it, we couldn’t run anymore if there was.

  The boardwalk ends.

  CHAPTER 9

  I release my grip on the bike the second its tires leave the pier. Felecia’s leglock around my waist loosens. She lets go of my back as we fly through the salty air. I don’t know if I just saved our lives or sent us sailing towards certain death. The long fall gives me more time than I’d like to think about it.

  What choice did I have? We’re in no condition to fight. And even if we were, there’s no way we could contend with that many infects. I realize we’ve fought our way out of hopeless situations but there was always a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. This time, there was none. The moon shimmering off the Pacific was the only light around. And with every fiber of my being, I hope that light hasn’t led me astray.

  I know, I’m crazy for wanting to stay alive in this world hellbent on destroying us. There’s something wrong with me, to go on fighting when every day is more horrific than the last. To push my body to its limits on a daily basis. To face death so many times that it feels unnatural in the rare occurrence that I’m not staring it down, so close I can feel the emptiness of its breath encompassing me.

  I know that giving up would be easier. But with Felecia by my side, it all becomes worth it. The questions and doubts are thrown out the window, irrelevant. Not only do I know that together, we can make it through anything, no matter the situation, I know it will be worth it.

  If tomorrow, we wake up on a rocky island with nothing but each other, the nothingness doesn’t matter, I’ll have all that I need. We’ve survived with nothing. Together, we can overcome any obstacle. I know because we’ve done it, over and over again. Each one more hopeless th
an the last. But we make it out the other side. And she somehow makes me feel alive when death surrounds us from every angle. There is a future I’m willing to fight for, with everything I have, the future that would have started for us tonight.

  I hit the choppy water hard, clutching the life ring in one hand, my sword in the other. The dark water swallows me, its grip suffocating after the long freefall. The impact, mixed with the sudden shot of cold that wraps its wet hands around my body, steals the air from my lungs in a vicious attack.

  My legs kick ferociously in an attempt to burst through the surface before it’s too late. I’ve always been able to hold my breath for a long time, but when there’s no breath to hold, what do you do? I don’t even know if I’m kicking in the right direction.

  Everything’s black.

  I can’t see a thing. The saltwater stings my eyes as I open them in a series of rapid blinks that prove useless.

  I can’t hold my breath any longer. The moment of impact sucked it all out of me.

  I can see light. I’m going in the right direction.

  I burst through the waves a split second before passing out. Felecia splashes out of the water right after me, clutching her safety ring, trying to catch the breath she hasn’t been able to since her ex-boyfriend tried to mutilate her with a wooden oar.

  Her eyes drift up to the seaside precipice we just leapt from, full of fear and hope. If this doesn’t work the way we want it to, it means the end for us.

  The first row leap from the edge of the pier, unwilling to let anything get in the way of their pursuit. I’m kicking my legs as hard as I can, paddling against the waves, trying to get away from the incoming barrage of bodies.

  What are they thinking as they fall? Do they even think? I always wondered what Mopster was dreaming about when he’d twitch in his sleep, feet moving as if he were running. Or when he’d stare blankly at the sky like he was contemplating the meaning of life. Was he? Or am I casting human traits onto something that isn’t human just so I can understand it?

  They hit the water and sizzle.

  It’s working! The saltwater enters their open wounds and melts their flesh on contact.

  Steam rises from the ocean as they splash about, screeching, dissolving before our eyes. Something about the salt, it’s eating away at their bodies. I can literally hear them melting. Accelerated decomposition. They’re fading into nothing. Their extremities are falling off, separating from their bodies.

  The second battalion jump over, no clue what horror awaits them below. We did it. We found their weakness. We can beat them! Something so simple. Saltwater? I don’t understand. This is so stupid it doesn’t even make sense. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not arguing, but still.

  We paddle away from the expanding ring of human remains, smoke rising from the floating limbs sitting atop a thick layer of blood.

  Blood. Sharks. We need to get out of the water. Now! I know they’re supposedly not attracted to human blood, I’ve seen Shark Week, but it’s not something I’m willing to risk, not with gallons of it flooding their waters.

  The nearest island isn’t far, it’s just a small rocky outcropping. I can see it from here. At low tide you can walk out to it on the narrow band of ledges, we did it once when I was younger. If we can get there, we can wait for low tide and walk right off the island. Which also means they’ll be able to walk their happy asses onto it, but they don’t stand a chance on the slippery surface. If all it takes is a fall into the water, the seaweed alone will take care of them.

  I paddle backwards, keeping an eye on Felecia and the growing cesspool of human decay. They just keep tumbling over the edge and frying in the choppy water like bacon on a Sunday morning.

  The outcropping can’t be more than thirty feet away. It’s completely exposed, no bigger than a living room, but right now, it’s one of the safest places on earth. Not like my mom’s living room, in the apartment, but the one in the house I grew up in, with the sectional and the loveseat and my sister’s unnecessarily large dollhouse.

  Felecia grabs hold of me the second we’re within reach, laughing through tears she’s too exhausted to cry.

  We made it. We’re here. My feet scrape the bottom. We’re at the rocky island.

  I collapse onto the rigid ledge. It doesn’t matter how uncomfortable it is, how many rocks are digging into me, I could fall asleep here and not wake up for days. My body is so sore I can barely feel it. Everything is numb. I couldn’t even tell you how cold the water is because I can barely feel myself. Every muscle is throbbing to the point I’m sure I must look like I’m convulsing.

  Felecia drops her sword and lifebuoy beside her, collapsing onto my chest, her heart pounding uncontrollably. Almost as hard as mine. I can see her head bouncing with its every beat.

  We’re alive. They’re not. I don’t know how, but we made it out of the inescapable position we were placed in. Again.

  She lets out the tiniest, sexiest giggle while readjusting just enough to peer into my eyes over my heaving chest. The gentle shake of her head says it all, the words she can’t formulate right now, we made it.

  I reach my quivering arm down and brush the wet strands of hair from her eyes. She just smiles up at me, her heavy breaths engulfing my face. I swear, those crystal eyes of hers can see right through me. Her penetrating gaze sends a warmth throughout my entire being, so strong it’s fighting the chills that raise my every hair.

  She slithers up my body until her face is directly above mine, her soaking wet ponytail resting against my cheek. I try to stop myself but can’t, my neck arches until my lips meet hers. She pushes back with so much force I have no choice but to give in and rest my head against the rocky pillow that I have a feeling no one would find comfortable besides me. Right now, it feels like heaven.

  Felecia’s tongue touches mine, sliding around my mouth like she’s searching for something she can’t find. When she pulls away, I hold her cheeks with both hands, keeping her mouth firmly pressed against mine.

  She gives in with a defeated whimper that makes my heart skip at least a dozen beats before her kiss resuscitates me.

  Her lips slowly inch away, foreheads touching, her nose brushing mine, our frantic exhales battling it out between us, unwilling to break our loving gaze.

  She holds her ribs, sliding the chainmail vest off her saturated body. The white tank top underneath is beyond see through, clinging to her perfectly sculpted chest like it’s painted on. The moonlight casts just enough glow, dancing off the ripples in the water, to see the girl of my dreams. And the bruise that covers her entire stomach. How has she been able to go on? To run? To fight? To hoist her body up using nothing but her abdominal muscles?

  I sit up, lifting the bottom of her shirt, planting the softest of kisses on her toned belly. It heaves beneath my lips, pulling away with every inhale. I miss the feel of her skin for that split second before her next breath brings her stomach back to my mouth. She moans softly every time my tongue meets her body.

  Her delicate hands cup my face, directing my attention back up to her as we sit awkwardly on the rocks, her in my lap. When our eyes meet, she nods, kissing me with so much passion that one lip lock could repopulate the world.

  Without a word, we grab each other’s drenched shirts and tug them off in one motion. She pulls our bare chests together, her heart thumping so loudly I can feel it reverberate through my entire body. Her salty lips meet mine once again as her warmth courses through me.

  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve dreamt of this. I think every guy in our school has. But with me, it was different. I never wanted to bang Felecia Harmon. I wanted to be with her. I want to love her. Not just her body, her spirit. Every inch of her, inside and out. Because I love every inch of her, inside and out.

  Her slender fingers fumble with the impossible buttons on these damn camouflage fatigues before I help her unclasp them, refusing to take my lips off her trembling body. They slide down her hips with ease as I reach my hands aroun
d and stroke my palms up and down her perky butt. I haven’t been able to stop fantasizing about this since seeing her pants down in the cabin, despite there not being an appropriate time to fantasize about such things. I’m sorry, there was nothing I could tell my brain to stop it.

  It feels even more amazing than I’d imagined. She moans into my mouth before repositioning herself on my lap and… it’s happening.

  “Oh my god,” she breathes into my mouth, biting down gently on my lower lip as I slip inside of her.

  We’re not on some rocky island a hundred feet from shore, on the hardest, most uncomfortable mattress known to man. No. There aren’t humans, infected with some diabolical virus hunting us down, sizzling in the ocean until they’re nothing but a puddle of bodily fluids floating around the Pacific. We’re not stranded on a coast that the entire world has given up on, with nothing but a farfetched plan to escape the hellhole I fear is our new home.

  We’re on the softest bed, surrounded by fluffy pillows in a hotel room overlooking the ocean. The world still exists outside our door, but to us, it fades into the ether. All that matters is right here, trapped between our bodies. Every word we don’t need to say. Every emotion we don’t need to explain. We understand. We understand what we have. The bond between us, it was there long before the world ended and we both knew it.

  Since this all began, there are so many times we should have run away together. But when it comes right down to it, we should have run away before the infection spread throughout our northern California town.

  And we would have. Tonight would have been the night. Apocalypse or not, this is the night. The rest of the world be damned, I don’t care what’s going on outside our door, I’m the luckiest man alive. And I will do anything and everything to keep it that way.

  This is right. We’re right. The rest of the world is wrong. But together, we can fix it.