Blood Type Infected (Book 4): Betrayal of Hope

by Marchon, Matthew

  “There’s one under the truck!” I scream at the top of my lungs, praying they can hear me over the engine and the gunshots and the sound of Velcro Fingers sizzling away mere inches from Norwood’s feet. “Get outta there! I can’t hold him.”

  He flails uncontrollably, shredding his face to bits, opening the gouge in his eye socket as gray liquid oozes from the expanding hole. He doesn’t–

  Oh you’ve gotta be shitting me! How is she not dead? Her freakin’ head practically exploded against the back of the tanker. But I can see her getting to her feet and I know it’s her because her legs are aimed in opposite directions.

  Are they out? It looks like they’re out. I don’t see Norwood’s feet anymore. I can’t hold him, not without puncturing the bottom of the truck and I can’t risk it. There, those are Felecia’s legs in front. God I hope he got that chain attached because we are officially out of time.

  I yank the sword from the gaping hole in this persistent bastard’s face, but he’s not interested in them anymore, now that he knows I’m here, an arm’s length away. He stretches out his decrepit hand and grabs hold of my sword, breaking off two of his fleshless fingers in the process. They just fall to the ground as if he’s a leper, disintegrating before my eyes. At this point, they don’t even look like hands anymore.

  “Noah go,” Felecia shouts, running towards the Stryker, I can tell by the way her voice carries. They’re safe and that’s what matters. “We’re good, it’s hooked up! Run!”

  That’s all I needed to hear.

  I rip Doug’s sword from the melted skeleton hand and roll to my feet just as the woman with the twisted leg limps her way around the back of the tanker. Why the fuck is the tanker moving? It’s moving! Norwood and Felecia are still in front of it. Does Maxwell not realize she can’t pull him yet?

  Oh no, I get it, they’re about to swarm the Stryker. The flaming zombies can’t be much more than an arm’s reach away. She has to drive.

  But… she isn’t. The Stryker isn’t moving. That’s Paul driving. Is he, no, is he trying to run them over? What the hell is he thinking? The truck swerves to the side abruptly, its back tires smooshing Velcro Fingers’ head, flattening it into a grotesque pancake filled with human facial features. This son of a bitch is trying to run them down.

  The truck cuts in the other direction before screeching to a halt. I swear to fucking god, if he just ran them over–

  Norwood pushed her out of the way. It’s clear by the way he’s helping her up, the fact that she’s grabbing her sword from the ground. He really did it. Paul just tried to run them over. Has he lost his goddamn mind? Does he not realize there are only three of us out here fighting and if he kills them, no one’s getting out of this alive? I don’t care how much you think you hate them, is it worth killing yourself over? Because I can’t do this alone and what in his delusional brain leads him to think I wouldn’t strangle him to death if he succeeded?

  Paul doesn’t know them like I do. Felecia Harmon and Dustin Norwood aren’t that easy to kill. Believe me, these undead assholes have been trying for days.

  They throw themselves against the backdoor of the Stryker, grabbing onto the railings that line practically every inch of that thing. They seemed kind of redundant until now. I think I understand why they’re there.

  The burning bodies are crashing into the side of the Stryker, grabbing at the strategically placed railings as it starts to move. Norwood and Felecia aren’t the only two clinging to the side of the armored behemoth as Maxwell steers it towards the playing fields, there’s at least four of them holding on.

  Is that the little girl, Sami? It is, she’s on top of the vehicle, smashing at the zombie’s hands with my trusty morningstar mace. I didn’t even know we still had it, I just assumed it was on the bus Buckley took. Shane must have brought it into the hospital with him. Go Sami! She’s swinging with everything she has, trying not to lose her balance as the vehicle leaves the pavement.

  I tuck a sword into the sheath on my back and do the only thing I can, jump onto the side of the fuel truck and cling on with everything I have. They don’t know it yet, but Darius is getting thrown to the wolves and Paul’s getting a blade shoved through his heart. That right there was the final straw. This is over and it’s over now.

  Shit, the ditch! I gotta get inside or I’ll be thrown off.

  The door’s locked! They locked the damn doors. Is it to keep out the infects? Or me? They must realize I’m clinging to the side of the truck like Spiderman. Can they not hear me banging on the window?

  No, Noah, they hear you. They know what’s about to happen and they’re not letting you in. I’m sure if I could see inside right now, they’d both be giving me the finger. I need another sheath so I can hold on with both hands. I’m slipping. My palms are too sweaty for this.

  What the hell is that clicking noise? Oh please don’t tell me I damaged something under the truck. I swear, the blade didn’t touch anything, I was beyond careful. What if Velcro Fingers pulled a pipe out of place or something? You know what, no, it’s all good, the Stryker can pull it to the dam if need be. Throw it in neutral and just drag–

  It’s not the truck. Backwards Leg Woman is clinging to the ladder that leads to the roof. It’s her neck clicking, or her leg, I’m not sure. Both of them are flapping in the breeze. Her dented in head’s dangling there like a deflated balloon being dragged along on a string. And she’s slowly inching her way to the top.

  I bang on the window in one last ditch effort, hoping they come to their senses and realize that without me, they’re not getting out of this alive.

  “Help, Darius, let me in! Hurry!”

  But my breath is wasted, they’re not letting me in. They know what’s become of this friendship. They’ve been watching it fizzle out and die for as long as I have. Maybe longer. Because Tuesday morning, all I could think about was getting them to safety. I was dying, and with the last moments of my life, I got my friends out of there.

  How stupid could I be, to think that someone else would do for me what I did for them? Felecia was right all along. She said it that day, that those weren’t my friends, they just kept me around because they needed me. They’ve been doing it for years, and these last few days have been no different. Get what they need out of me and toss me to the side.

  I was too blind to see it. I thought friendship was real. That people could find mutual enjoyment in one another’s company and that would be enough. But it’s not enough, is it? People are only your friend when they need something. Then, it’s to hell with you.

  Why did I think I was different? How could I be so naïve, for all these years, to think that wasn’t happening to me? Even now, I call Caylee and Norwood, Marty, Neil for god’s sake, I call them my friends, but are they? Or are they only standing by me because they need something out of me? And now I’ve gotten them here. Now that we’re at salvation’s doorstep, no one needs me anymore.

  I hold on as tight as I can, knowing it won’t be enough.

  We hit the ditch.

  CHAPTER 26

  It’s useless. I lose my grip and go flying the second we collide with the grassy hillside.

  Everything goes black the second I hit. I’m not unconscious. I know I’m not because I’m thinking, but I can barely hear my own thoughts over the ringing in my ears.

  Forget the past, these last few days alone, they owe me more than to let this happen to me. If it weren’t for me, they’d be dead right now. And without me, they’ll be dead in a matter of minutes. How can two of my supposed friends leave me here to die?

  They’re not hopping out to help me, I’d hear their doors creak open. I’m right where they want me. Where Shane wanted me. And Buckley. Blake freakin’ Oliver. Mohawk, whatever the hell Neil said his name was, Dexter maybe. The O’Connor kid and the quiet girl. Blake’s cohort, Clay Hansen. Hell, my own father. They’re finally getting their wish.

  And there’s no one here to stop it. All the times I’ve risked life and
limb, stared death square in the eye to help those around me. And here I am, dying in a ditch, alone.

  But what can they do? Felecia and Norwood are hanging onto the back of the Stryker for dear life, they probably don’t even know I’m down here. None of them do, and even if they did, what are they gonna do, hop out of a moving vehicle and race into a mob of zombies just to be too late to reach me? I’m not mad at them. Paul and Darius on the other hand, when I turn, I am eating every last morsel of their backstabbing bodies.

  No, you know what, fuck that, I am mad. I shouldn’t be, but for all the times I stuck my neck out to save everyone else, this is what I get in return? This has to be the definition of ironic. I’m there for all of them, coming through just in the nick of time, but in my hour of need, no one can spare that second. I get it, I do, there’s nothing they can do at this point, but just, the irony of it. I have a right to be angry. They can’t just leap off a moving vehicle in the middle of a war but–

  “Noah! Noah! I’m coming! Hold on!”

  But they are.

  Felecia. My eyes flutter open, squinting into the sunlight and the bright dots surrounding it. Felecia jumped off the back of the Stryker, she’s running to me. So did Norwood. Norwood’s coming. Caylee? Is that Caylee running across the football field, limping on her cast with every step but moving so fast her hair blows behind her like this is a photo shoot? They’re coming back for me. I’m not alone.

  I was wrong. I was never alone. I have the best friends in the world, and they won’t let me fall. Maybe we are friends based solely on the fact that we need each other, but what better friend is there than one you need? Without each other, we wouldn’t be here in this final battle, so close to freedom I can taste it.

  The fuel truck creaks and groans, losing its front bumper as it gets pulled through the dirt and emerges on the other side in one piece. She did it, Maxwell got it over the ditch and onto the field.

  But with it comes the undead masses, storming the fifty yard line like their team just won the championship. Herds of the infected population burst through the fence and swarm the grass from every direction.

  “Go back,” I mumble in a failed attempt at yelling. If they come to get me, they’ll never make it onto the Stryker. “You gotta go. You gotta leave me.”

  If they can hear me, they’re ignoring my pleas. Caylee catches up to Felecia and Norwood in a few strides as they race towards me as fast as their legs will carry them. They don’t need to rescue me, they don’t, it’s enough to know they want to. We’ll never make it out of here and I’d rather they live than lose their lives trying to save mine. I thought I wanted someone to rescue me but not if it means sacrificing themselves. I didn’t want this.

  The Stryker stops in the middle of the field. What are you doing? They’re closing in on us. Get the hell out of here. Get that fuel truck through the valley and up to the dam. The helicopter is the only way out of this mess. Go!

  They don’t listen. The cannon turns and lets off a missile as the machine gun dumps round after round of ammunition into reanimated corpses that couldn’t care less about bullets tearing through their undead vessels. The whole vehicle rocks as they expel bomb after bomb onto the sidelines, shooting projectiles from places I didn’t realize things shot out of.

  They stopped for me. Because they refuse to leave me behind. Even if it means getting inundated by thousands of infected souls, they’re not going on without me.

  I matter. This isn’t a one sided relationship. They care. My old friends may not give a damn, but my new family, they do. They care enough to stop on hell’s doorstep for me. This is why I fight. It wasn’t in vain. It never was. I’ve just been fighting for the wrong people all these years.

  I push myself up to my hands and knees, spitting out a disgusting mixture of blood and grass, dirt and anger, sprinkled with the tiniest bit of hope. How could I think they would leave me behind? This isn’t the first time they’ve come back for me, but with any luck, it will be the last time they have to.

  Norwood sails over me with a war cry that makes whoever’s behind me second guess their decision. I can hear him collide with what must be two or three ravenous cadavers as Caylee and Felecia slide in the grass, one on each side of me.

  “Noah, can you hear me?” Caylee. “It’s okay, we got you.”

  “I’m alright,” I mutter. “It’s okay, I just need a second. Seeing stars, I just–”

  “We don’t have a second sweetie.” Felecia throws my arm over her shoulder as Caylee grabs my sword from the ground, I must have dropped it in the fall.

  She throws my other arm around her neck a second later and they’re half dragging, half running me off the battlefield. I can hear Norwood bringing up the rear as the circle of grass around us grows smaller. They’re closing in, despite all the firepower in the world. There aren’t enough bombs and bullets to stop these things.

  My legs are working. I’m not being dragged anymore. I can feel my feet hitting the ground. There’s still a bunch of bright spots floating around me but I’m running, we’re picking up speed. Now that they don’t have to drag me, we’re closing the distance between us and the Stryker.

  I think that’s Sami up top, still knocking off the cling-ons that jumped on after Norwood and Felecia. Either there were more than I originally thought or new ones are storming the palace. Scott’s up there too, he was blurred out by a white spot for a minute but I can make him out now, tossing grenades in every direction.

  “Oh fuck, faster faster! I can’t hold them!” Norwood passes through my line of sight, running in front of us and tackling a group coming in from the right.

  They’re everywhere. I don’t think I can go any faster, I feel like I’m moving at top speed.

  They’re about to pounce from the left, Felecia’s side.

  “Go, I got him,” Caylee screams, taking the brunt of my weight. Shit, that means I’m not supporting myself as much as I thought I was. We should be going faster. I’m slowing us down too much.

  “Caylee, go, I’ll make it. Just go, run.”

  “Never.” Her one breathless whisper says it all. She loves me. Whether that means she’s in love with me or sees me as a friend she can’t bear losing, I don’t know, but she cares about me more than any of my supposed friends ever did. Can I just say, man do I have impeccable taste in women? This is the type of girl you marry and spend forever with. I could not have been more right about her.

  I will not be the one to drag her down. Girls like her get taken advantage of, and I refuse to be that guy. I won’t be her downfall. Her resolve is unimaginable, she’s supporting me on her broken leg. They call it a walking cast but you’re not supposed to run on it, let alone carry the weight of someone on your shoulders.

  I don’t know how she’s moving right now but she’s doing it, wincing in pain, crying out with every step but never letting the discomfort slow her down. I won’t be the one hurting her, not like this, not after what Felecia and I have already done to her. We don’t deserve her friendship and I refuse to drag her down with me.

  I thrust my eyes open, bright spots be damned, and remove my arm from around her shoulder. Had that prick Buckley not forced me off the track team, this would have been us these last few months, running side by side at practice. I’m keeping up with her. My strength is coming back. My head is killing me and there’s white spots where there shouldn’t be white spots but I’m moving on my own, normally at that, I think. I kinda thought I was moving on my own back there when I was actually being swept off my feet by a couple of angels who would clearly do anything for me.

  The spots are fading. We’re getting closer. But so are they. They’ve breached the perimeter of bombs and show no sign of slowing down. They’ll be swarming the vehicle within seconds. Maxwell can’t wait any longer.

  I can see Felecia coming up beside us but where the hell is Norwood? We need to jump on now before we run out of time. We’re so close. I’d have us jump onto the back of the tanker if I
didn’t think my former friends would find a way to ruin it for us.

  The floating dot that’s been taking up residence front and center goes dark, like a shadow cast over our glimmer of hope. Are the spots going away? Why does it feel so ominous? This is a good thing. I can’t fight them off with bright lights floating around my pupils at all times.

  Something slams into me, knocking me over backwards. Caylee squeals and goes down beside me. What the fuck just happened? We’re there, we’re fucking there! How did something go wrong? Are they all of a sudden falling from–

  The top of the truck! The girl with the broken neck and twisted leg. She must have hung on tight, clinging to the ladder, just waiting for an opportune moment. She threw herself right down on top of us. We never saw it coming.

  The impact rattles my brain, sending the bright lights scurrying and reforming again right back where they were.

  But I can’t stay down. I can’t take a second to clear my head and blink away the lights I know aren’t really there. Even with her bobbling head dangling limply, she’s more of a threat than we have time to deal with right now.

  I don’t know how Caylee was running in her condition but we need to do it again. I am not letting this backward legged bitch get in the way of us riding off on that Stryker. All of us. We’re leaving this battleground as one. Here on this field, and up there at that dam. We leave together.

  “Ahhhh, noooo! Noah!”

  Caylee! Shit! No. No this can’t be happening.

  I throw her twisted body off of Caylee but it’s too late, I know without seeing a thing. I knew the second I heard her scream.

  I’m too late.

  The damage has already been done. I can see the blood through her shirt. The bite mark on her shoulder, just below her clavicle. The place I’ve dreamt of kissing for so long. Every time she wore a tank top, I couldn’t help but stare. Her toned body, just the right amount of skin. All I wanted to do was press my lips against it. Who knew that she would turn out to be so amazing?