Blood Type Infected (Book 4): Betrayal of Hope

by Marchon, Matthew

  Like it’s second nature to me, I spin from the propulsion of hacking through someone’s neck and slice through the throat of the next in line. One fluid motion. No hesitation.

  Blood sprays from his jugular but I wasn’t close enough to sever his head completely. It takes a follow up swipe from the spiked ball of my morningstar to crack through his spinal column. Bones crunch and flesh tears, knocking his bullet riddled head from its resting spot atop his mutilated neck.

  What worries me even more than the three incoming corpses, so close I can feel the heat from their breath, is the fact that I barely register them as human. They’ve always been people to me. They were friends. Classmates. Familiar faces. And when I stopped recognizing them, I gave them human characteristics. Names. Backstories. Traits that made them similar to me. I turned the shells of their past selves into anthropomorphic beings. It wasn’t intentional. I’ve never thought about doing it, that’s just how my brain has processed these automatonic, human-like creatures.

  Something’s changing.

  I have to force myself to see the mother of three whose husband left her. I jam my foot into her stomach the second she lunges for me, forcing her back to standing position. The locket that rests on her exposed sternum doesn’t budge, held firmly in place by crusted over blood and pus. Are her children’s photos inside? Because I can’t picture it anymore.

  I have to concentrate to see the young guy who just got his masters and moved back in with his parents until he finds a job. It’s hard to see him over the horrific hole where his eye should be, removed by a bullet at point blank range. The empathetic reaction that should come when I accidentally behead him doesn’t feel natural. I wasn’t even going for him. I was aiming for the mother, but my kick to the gut made her hunch over enough to duck my blade.

  Before his head has a chance to hit the ground, I use my morningstar to backhand an army veteran biker, riding up the coast to walk his estranged daughter down the aisle. As the spikes rip through his leathery skin, I have to convince myself he’s not just another infect. He’s somebody.

  All any of us wanted was the opportunity to live the life we thought we were promised. We knew it wouldn’t go back to normal, but maybe something close to it. Something that resembled the life we knew, where we could forget all of this enough to carry on. We knew we’d never be the same, not after all we’ve been through. But I’d hoped that maybe we could pretend. And in time, this would be a distant enough memory that we could be ourselves again.

  I don’t know if that’s an option for me anymore.

  The reluctance. The remorse. It’s missing. Is it something we get back? Or once it’s gone, it’s gone forever?

  I don’t want to lose it. I want to be normal. I know that Noah Britton is still in there, longing to be set free.

  Are they still in there? Tortured souls trapped inside of broken bodies, forced by some greater power to commit unthinkable actions they’d give anything not to be performing? Longing to be set free? What makes us any different?

  We’ve all become killing machines.

  Is there any going back for us? How do we re-assimilate? How do–

  There’s someone in there. Someone’s inside the helicopter, face pressed against the window. That’s why they were banging on the walls, trying so desperately to get in. They knew he was still inside. Trapped. Waiting to die. I guess starving to death and slowly succumbing to dehydration beats being eaten alive.

  I use my morningstar to uppercut a bearded man in a hat, sending teeth and bone fragments bursting into the air. We have to find our way back to society, and then find a way to once again fit in, because I can’t keep doing this.

  The teeth stuck in his beard make my stomach churn. I’m still human. I may be a killing machine, but I’m only doing it to remain human. There’s no pleasure in killing anything, not for me. There never was, whether it was bugs in the house, or animals on hunting trips. I refused to do it. Not spiders for my mom. Not deer for my dad. I don’t find pleasure in death. I didn’t then. And I don’t now. I do it to live. And I have to live because I still have so much living to do.

  Felecia’s eyes land on me before I take the bearded man’s life, and I know she’s seeing the same thing as me. I’m taking his so we can live ours. It doesn’t matter if we can’t coexist with other humans, because we have each other. And we have Caylee. We have Norwood and Marty. We have the Buckley brothers. We’re not alone.

  I don’t know what kind of world we’re going to be flying into. But I know I’ll have my family by my side.

  CHAPTER 33

  The door doesn’t slide open until the last reanimated carcass has been laid to rest.

  “Oh thank god, I was sure I was gonna die in there.” He salutes us both before jumping out and breathing in the air around him like he’s making love to it. “I’ve been stranded for days. What took you so long? Is that how we’re getting out, a god damn Stryker?”

  “Um, I think there’s been some sort of confusion,” I say, trying to catch my breath but having a little trouble because this guy’s hogging all the oxygen. “You realize we’re not military, right?”

  “That’s how we’re getting out of here,” Felecia says, pointing at the helicopter our confused friend just emerged from. “And we need to hurry. Where’s the entrance to the dam?”

  “What the hell is going on here? They didn’t send you to get me? We can’t fly this thing out of here. We’re out of fuel, the battery’s dead, I’ve been stuck in there for days. The door to the dam is over there but it doesn’t matter, they got inside, we can’t hide in there.”

  “Hold on,” Felecia screams, throwing her hand up to silence him. “What the fuck do you mean the battery’s dead?”

  “I mean it’s dead. I’ve been running the communications system trying to get in touch with you. It died days ago. Who’s your superior? I’m gonna need to speak– oh son of a bitch, not her.”

  “Collins?” Maxwell spews, damn near doing a spit take. So I’m assuming these two know each other, but why did she address him as if she were taking the lord’s name in vain in front of the Pope in the Vatican surrounded by arch bishops and a handful of saints? And a flock of nuns who just walked in. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “Look, I didn’t ask to be put on this–”

  “Bullshit!”

  She continues marching toward him as he cowers, not stopping until she has him pinned against the side of the helicopter.

  “Whose dick did you suck to get assigned to this mission?”

  “Okay, someone please explain what the fuck is going on and why Private Twinkle Toes doesn’t think we’re flying out of here.” They only see the rage in Felecia’s eyes, but I see the desperation.

  “Where’s the rescue unit?” His frail voice couldn’t scare a butterfly, but I think he meant for it to sound intimidating.

  “You’re looking at it,” Maxwell growls, letting go of the sniveling soldier’s collar. “I’m what’s left, me and Rodriguez. They said there were no survivors. We’re here for the chopper and the scientists. Look, Collins, I don’t know what your last transmission was but the country’s gone. America fell. The whole continent, it’s being abandoned.”

  “What? No.”

  “We have been through hell and back. We’re extracting those scientists, and flying the fuck out of here. They have a squadron waiting for us outside of Yuma. From there, onto New York and then London. Tell me this thing still flies or so help me god.”

  “It would, with fuel and a battery that wasn’t dead.”

  “Battery, we can charge it off the Stryker. I’ve done it in the field. We got this. Nice job you two,” she says, resting a hand on each of our shoulders. “You guys are un-fucking-believable. You too Dustin,” she adds, aiming her fist behind us as he jogs over. “One more left in you? I hate to ask but I gotta get this son of a bitch charged and fueled and we have company about ten minutes out, maybe less. Can the three of you get them outta there?
I need you. Our country, hell, this world, needs you.”

  “Oh,” Norwood snorts, insulted, “you musta forgotten who you were talking to. We can do whatever we damn well please.”

  “I’m sorry,” the nerdy guy in the fatigues says in one of those sarcastic tones where you know he’s not actually sorry. “They’re not military, and you’re trusting them to go in there and save a bunch of nerds in lab coats?” Ha, Poindexter calling someone else a nerd. Where does that phrase come from? Is Poindexter an actual person? I always meant to look it up. “I’ll refuel, maybe you go retrieve the–”

  “See, I would,” Maxwell interrupts with a condescending smirk, “but I know you Collins. And I know the second you get her gassed up and charged, you’re outta here, feeding everyone some bullshit hero story. And quite honestly, I don’t know if I’d be able to get those nerds in lab coats out of there safely, but I’m betting my life on the fact that they can.”

  “They’re kids,” he squeals.

  “No, they’re not. They’re soldiers. Fuck that, they’re warriors. And if my gut’s right, they just saved the damn world. Guys, go, we got this under control here. Be careful, don’t do anything stupid. Their lives aren’t worth yours, no matter what they know. Whatever you do, get out of there alive.”

  We all nod in unison, a mutual respect and understanding between us. Never thought I’d see the day when Norwood would respect anyone in uniform but here we are. It’s only more proof that our old world is gone, and with it, the versions of ourselves we used to be.

  “So,” Felecia coos as we cautiously jog towards the cement staircase that I’m assuming leads down to an open door. I can’t see her face beside me but I know she’s grinning from ear to ear. “When’s the wedding and are we invited?”

  “Oh ha ha, screw you. Dustin Norwood doesn’t get tied– No, but for real, you think I’d have a chance?”

  “Trust me, I’m a girl, she so wants your Norwood.”

  “Can you blame her though? Are they cheerio with interracial couples across the pond?” he asks in what I’m assuming is a British accent but it might have been Indian or possibly Norwegian. “How about triads? You know, throuples? Threesomes? Just asking for a friend.”

  “God I hope so,” Felecia groans as I shake my head at his ridiculous statement which apparently isn’t as ridiculous as I’d assumed. “Because when that plane touches down, maybe before, we are taking that girl’s virginity in a night she will never forget.”

  “Whoa, okay,” Norwood shouts, taking the steps three at a time.

  “Wait, we’re what?” I ask, a little dumbfounded here because, did she say what I just think she said?

  “Oh it’s happening with or without you but come on, we’re Nolecia, we do everything together. We’re practically attached at the hip.”

  “You kind of are,” Norwood shoots over his shoulder before kicking the swinging door open and bursting through in classic cop pose like his sword is a gun. “I’d say you guys are whipped but you’re fucking awesome so it’s kinda like, you know, hashtag relationship goals,” he sings in a girly squeal, his voice echoing down the long corridor. “Oh zombie baby daddies, we’re here to save you, ya bunch of lab coat dumbasses! Come out come out wherever you are.”

  “Well gee, how did that not work?” Felecia asks as four half eaten bodies come scrambling around the corner like kids trying to be first in line for breakfast-at-lunch-day in the cafeteria.

  France has a famous island, don’t they? Let’s go there. I could really go for some french toast sticks. Those military MRE meal packets we ate on the drive were pretty good but it’s like substituting a power bar for a hamburger. Croissants, I know Europe has plenty of those. Mmmm, the Croissan’wich from Burger King. I’m not even hungry, who the hell brought up food?

  Their sickly slobbering is amplified by the long hallway that leads to god knows where. Are we inside the dam? Our field trip to the one at Shasta Lake was years ago but from what I remember, this is kind of what it looked like. I wonder what happens when the power goes out. I bet Doug could tell me, he’s probably seen every episode of Life After People there is. Odds are, they did one about hydroelectric dams.

  “I’ll get ’em from behind, you guys get the front,” he calls over his shoulder, breaking into a sprint. Does he not realize we’re all on the same side in a narrow hallway that has me feeling a little claustrophobic right now, and my bedroom in Mom’s apartment was most likely a linen closet in a past life.

  He sprints towards them, giving me and Felecia no choice but to follow. Who put him in front? If we let him lead, we’re gonna be hanging over the edge of the dam on a guardrail, all with our own personal scientist clinging to our back. Ten bucks says I’m gonna get stuck with the one who doesn’t wear deodorant.

  Norwood jumps at the last second, bouncing off the wall with one foot, propelling himself across the hallway and then doing it again on that side with his other foot. He’s literally climbing the wall. The momentum of his spring boarding wall acrobatics sends him sailing over them. He hits the ground and rolls on the other side, leaving them scratching their heads in confusion.

  All four spin around but three keep spinning until they’re facing us again, deciding we’re the easier targets. Nope, never mind, the woman in the skirt spins once more, falling out of her remaining high heel with a bone shattering crack, crashing to her hands and knees.

  The quarters are too tight, we can’t all be swinging swords at once. So I think we all know what I’m about to do. Flying karate kick!

  The guy in the hard hat lunges for me. I spring into the air the second his feet leave the ground, pulling in one leg, stretching out the other beside me. The Noah ninja kick never fails, it’s the landing that doesn’t usually do so well.

  The sole of my boot connects squarely with the center of his chest, knocking him backwards. I can practically feel Felecia rolling her eyes at me as she severs someone’s head and kicks the body away without ever leaving the safety of the ground. What can I say? Norwood’s wall crawling inspired me.

  The worker in the hard hat stumbles backwards, arms flailing, trying to regain his footing, not realizing the woman with the freshly broken ankle is directly behind him, trying to stand up with her foot twisted sideways inside her shoe. The backs of his legs ram into her and he takes a tumble, falling directly into the path of Norwood’s sword.

  I land in squatting position, on both feet, gracefully. I did it. I stuck the landing. It’s taken five days but I finally hit the landing. I didn’t fall. I’m on my feet. I did it. Take that zombie apocalypse. I’m still standing!

  My sword slices through her weakened neck where she’s clearly been chewed on by members of the opposing army. Bite marks, from the back of her head, just below the bun so tight it must have been giving her a headache, right down her neck and spine. They bit right through the blazer, the shirt, what appears to be a blouse, her bra, it’s not ripped, those are teeth marks. But, are they human? Who has teeth that can rip through four layers of fabric? I don’t care how lowered or nonexistent your inhibitions are, is that possible? Can human teeth do that?

  “Guys?” I say skeptically, staring at the shredded remains of the woman’s backside. “Those bite marks look human to you?”

  “What do you mean? What else would they be?” Norwood asks, squatting down to get a closer look, pulling something out of the woman’s neck. “Definitely human.” He holds up a tooth before tossing it to the floor with a shake of his head. “It’s gotta be super zombies, to tear through her clothes like that.”

  “No, wait.” Felecia motions us down beside her where she’s nudging the shredded fabric aside with the tip of her blade. “Look, those little scratches, they look like… claw marks. Is that from an animal?”

  A heart stopping growl from somewhere down the hall answers that question. There’s something in here. Something that isn’t human.

  CHAPTER 34

  “Okay, what on Uncle Clyde’s hairy nutsack was
that? Please tell me one of you is extremely hungry and that was just your stomach rumbling.”

  I hold my sword a little tighter while returning to standing position, wishing I brought the morningstar with me. And perhaps a grenade launcher. Whatever that was, it sounds like something my sword may not be able to handle.

  “It sounds bigger than whatever did this,” Felecia whispers, standing beside me. “These are small, like kitten claws. That sounded like something that belongs in Jurassic Park. And Norwood, may I ask why you know what your uncle’s nutsack looks like, or is this a story I’d rather not hear?”

  “Oh he shows it to everyone, ever since Crazy Aunt Cybil caught him cheating and attacked his junk with a screwdriver. Phillips head.”

  “Oww,” I gurgle, covering myself involuntarily at the thought of it. “I see why they call her Crazy Aunt Cybil.”

  “What? Oh, nah, she got that name from her time in the loony bin, way before the screwdriver incident. Uncle Clyde’s drunk ass knew better. Just like we know better than to follow that sound but are probably gonna do it anyway.”

  “Is there another option?” Felecia asks, looking down the hallway towards freedom, the way we came. “We could say they were already dead.”

  “Sounds good, I like it, let’s go.”

  “Guys,” I say, raising my hand to stop them. “Am I the only one who wants answers here? If they did this, it destroyed the world. Whatever it is, Felecia, you and I have it, so does Caylee. I don’t wanna spend the rest of my life wondering.”

  Felecia closes her eyes and nods, not wanting me to be right any more than I want to be, but knowing I am. This is our one chance to get answers. To find out what this is. What might happen to us.

  “For the record,” Norwood groans, “I hate the fact that you’re always right. Besides, I’m betting if we don’t have at least one of those science geeks, they’re not letting us on any military aircraft. You don’t think they joined together and formed one giant zombie, do you, like Transformers or the Power Ranger Zords?”