Blood Type Infected (Book 4): Betrayal of Hope

by Marchon, Matthew

  We take the stairs two at a time, one of us on each side of the railing. I don’t know where the hell we’re going but I don’t think we have much of a choice. We saw stairs, we took them. There’s gotta be a walkway or something over the dam, a road. If they’re all behind us, I’m hoping that means there won’t be any in front of us and we can make a straight shot for the chopper.

  Is that? It is, it’s starting! I can hear the propellers begin to turn. They got it going! They got it!

  We slam through the glass door at the top of the staircase, putting us on some sort of viewing platform on the far side of the dam. We’re at the top, it doesn’t go any higher. Where the hell is the road, the bridge, something? How are we supposed to get across?

  Felecia runs one way, I go the other, searching for a way off this concrete platform. Through the wall of windows I can see them emerge from the tunnel and plow through each other on their race up the two story stairway.

  Where the hell do we cross? All I see is a utility road leading in the other direction. That’s fine and dandy, the woods are lovely but that doesn’t exactly help us right now. We need to go that way, to the helicopter, not the mountains!

  “Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me, arghhh!” Felecia screeches, stomping her feet while looking over the edge of the platform in the direction we want to be headed. “I found it but you are not going to like this. At all.”

  “Why, what are we doing?” I ask, racing over to her side. My eyes follow her finger.

  There is no road. No bridge. No scenic walkway with convenient little railings to make us feel safe. Iron rungs lead about ten feet down to the top of the dam. We have to tightrope it.

  “You’ve gotta be shitting me.” My knees tremble at the sight of the two hundred foot drop into the rocky river below. The other side isn’t so bad, maybe a hundred feet straight down into the lake, but we’d never survive a trip through those tubes with thousands of gallons a second rushing through them. A hundred feet, is that too high to jump from, into still water? It is, isn’t it?

  I follow her lead and lower myself over the edge of the platform, at least the rounded rungs are more ergonomically friendly than the rafters.

  And we have company already. They shatter the glass doors in a sea of exploding crystals, fanning out over the viewing platform in a desperate search for their prey.

  “Oh my god, oh my god this is bad. Shit, Noah, do not look down. We have about half a foot of flat, then it starts sloping, the bad way.”

  She might have overcalculated, it’s definitely less than six inches. Why put it at a slope if it’s going to be that close to vertical? They don’t even make roller coasters this steep. Know why? Because it’s fucking vertical and you’d fall right off the track!

  Just breathe. This would be a lot easier if my legs would stop shaking.

  “Remember what I said about not looking down? Yeah, turns out you have to. Down is the only way to look to stop yourself from stepping off the edge. Baby steps, okay, we got this, we’re just gonna take baby steps, baby. It’s too late for me not to be in front, isn’t it? Noah, I don’t wanna be in front.”

  “It’s okay, I got you, just, give me your hand. Oh man this is really high. Okay, no, just focus on your feet. Shuffle, like that smelly kid with the big backpack. Don’t even lift your feet. See? We’re doing it.”

  I don’t know why we’re holding hands, our palms are so sweaty they may as well be underwater. If one of us slips, there’s no holding on, no matter how tight we squeeze. But her touch comforts me enough to slide my feet over the concrete tightrope, a few inches at a time. Who in their right mind made this so god damn narrow? And did no one suggest a handrail? You know, in case of emergencies? Because this is most certainly one of those cases!

  Something sends vibrations through my feet. If this thing is starting to crack, I am not kidding, I will shit my pants right here. Screw their peepee club, I’m taking this to a whole new level.

  Out of my peripheral vision, I spot a body sliding down the bad side of the dam. It starts out as a slide, like you’d expect, but turns into a freefall about halfway down, grazing the wall here and there before splattering off the ledges at the bottom. This isn’t like the giant slide at the carnival, this is falling off the top of a skyscraper.

  Another one tumbles over, colliding with the top of the dam and bouncing like he’s too cool for the slide. He takes the easy way down, flipping and spinning in the air for a solid five seconds before finally slamming off the concrete structure and once again freefalling, having a long time to think about the error of his ways before landing feet first on the rocks below. His body crumples like an accordion, turning into a speck of red on the dark rocks.

  “Oh god I don’t wanna fall, I don’t wanna fall,” Felecia whimpers, repeating it to herself over and over while shuffling further out onto the dam.

  We’re making good headway, we have to be about a third of the way there.

  They just keep toppling over the railing and taking the hard way down, I can hear their bodies crashing left and right, most of them falling into the gorge but it sounds like a few of them have hit the water. I don’t hear splashing so I’m assuming their bodies splattered into a million pieces upon hitting the still surface of the lake. But I’m too scared to look to find out.

  Shit. No no no. Shit! This is why I wasn’t looking. They’re figuring out the ladder. They’re climbing down the damn ladder. Not good! This isn’t good at all.

  Oh this is even worse. He made it onto the dam. His feet are touching. He’s firmly planted on the thin strip of flat surface and he’s coming this way.

  “Babe, I don’t mean to hurry you, but we need to pick up the pace, a lot.”

  “Oh no, no, don’t tell me that. They’re coming, aren’t they? They’re on the dam with us.”

  “Not they, just he, never mind,” I say, glancing back again. “Now it’s they. Oh fuck me, they’re running!”

  The one in front races towards us, apparently not nearly as afraid of heights as we are. You know what I hate, when people say they’re not afraid of heights, just of the landing. Well no shit Sherlock! And I guess this guy’s not scared of either because he’s cruising along like–

  There he goes. His foot lands just a fraction of an inch too far to the right and he faceplants onto the narrow walkway that shouldn’t be called a walkway because if it was, we’d be able to walk across it!

  He straddles the deadly structure for a split second before rolling down the nearly vertical slope into the gorge. Rolling like we used to do down grassy hills because for some stupid reason, we enjoyed being dizzy. Now all it takes is looking down and my head starts spinning.

  He logrolls himself the entire length of the dam, limbs flailing everywhere on his rapid descent before meeting the gentle curve at the bottom.

  His body’s launched into the air like this is a motocross track and he’s the dirt bike, spiraling at speeds that would probably kill a normal person. He’s a human football, soaring through the steep walls of the gorge, hurtling towards a jagged cliff.

  He explodes on contact, limbs splattering, flying every which way. This is not helping with the healthy fear of heights we’ve got going on. Not helping at all.

  “Noah, Noah, I can see the helicopter!”

  Now that we’re past the halfway point, the arc of the dam puts us far enough out that we can see the platform we started out on. She’s right, I can even see the helicopter. We’re close enough to see their faces. Close enough to see the Stryker rock back and forth, dumping an empty shell out of its backside. They’re shooting down the mountain, down the road, this can’t be good.

  Another blast rocks it a second later. We’re out of time. We need to be on that chopper. Now.

  I can see them loading people into it. Caylee and Scott have Tyrone on his gurney. It looks like they’ve already got the autistic brother on, Anthony, is that his name? The scientists are belting themselves in. Maxwell wasn’t lying, this
is going to be a tight squeeze.

  Who the hell is that? Paul’s got someone, hobbling beside him. Is that Scott? Did something happen to Neil’s little brother? No, no Scott’s helping Caylee with Tyrone. I can see them from here. Neil? Did something happen to Neil’s–

  Shane. That’s fucking Shane!

  Son of a bitch, it wasn’t Darius in the fuel truck, it was Shane! That’s why Paul wanted to drive alone, he must have found Shane by the lake. How is he alive?

  Marty’s right there, hopping into the chopper, how does he not see this? Why is he not stopping them?

  “Marty!” I scream, knowing he won’t be able to hear me over the sound of the propellers, but what else am I supposed to do? “Marty, stop them!”

  “That’s not Marty,” Felecia whispers, her grip tightening on my hand. “Buckley! That’s Neil’s dad. Someone stop them! Caylee! Caylee, get them!”

  “What the fuck is he doing here? How’d he find us?” I ask in a panic as the helicopter teeters side to side before slowly lifting into the air. “No, no, this isn’t happening.”

  “They’re leaving? Wait!” Felecia screams at the top of her lungs. “Wait, we’re down here! How do they not see us? We’re on the dam! Caylee, we’re on the dam! What are they doing? Why are they leaving? Wait!” Her helpless screams are reduced to tears as the helicopter takes off.

  This is no accident. They know damn well what they’re doing. They’re leaving us.

  Caylee throws herself to the floor, coming so close to sliding over the edge it takes Scott holding her legs to keep her on board.

  She sees us. She’s pointing to us, reaching out her hand as if we’re close enough to grab it. Like she can hoist us up and bring us to safety. I swear I can hear her screaming our names at the top of her lungs, dangling out of the side of our last hope.

  Somehow, we pulled off the impossible. Our plan worked. The last flight out of hell is leaving now. And we’re not on it.

  My heart tumbles over the side of the dam. They’re leaving us. After everything we’ve done. After everything we’ve been through. They’re leaving us.

  What… what the fuck just happened?

  The helicopter passes directly over us. The ringing in my ears drowns out the sound. It’s all going blurry. Caylee turns into nothing more than a speck, hanging out of our helicopter. Our ticket out of here.

  Tears sting my eyes.

  We gave our all for this moment. We’ve risked our lives for this. We fought with everything we had. Everything! This is our moment. We made it! We won! What the fuck just happened?

  Leaving a review is more helpful than you know so if you could spare a minute and post your thoughts it would be greatly appreciated. Thank you!

  Also available from Matthew Marchon

  After Failure

  A Wish Upon A Christmas Village

  Blood Type : Infected (Book One) – No Future For Man

  Blood Type : Infected (Book Two) – Fallen To The Flame

  Blood Type : Infected (Book Three) – Death Becomes Us

  Stone Stairway – Against The Tide (Book One)

  The Acadia You Haven’t Seen (an off-trail hiking guide)

  The White Mountains You Haven’t Seen (an off-trail hiking guide)

  The White Mountains You Haven’t Seen: Waterfall Edition (an off-trail hiking guide)

  In The Desperation Of Darkness (poetry anthology)

  FREE Spirit Trapped (poetry anthology)

  www.matthewmarchon.weebly.com