Houses on both sides of us were either boarded, vandalized, or both. The grass was fairly damp and trash filled the streets. Those who were in their homes, peered from their windows, frightened or curious; estranged and abandoned.
We ran over a pot hole filled with bloody rain water, and the jerk of the vehicle turned my sight in between a set of homes, catching glimpses of Bleeders slowly moving thru the alley way. That must have been the reason we haven't seen any blood on the streets in that neighborhood. The power company employees advised us to stay away from the alleys.
We were all silent.
I was interested, and eagerly awaiting for Jon to continue the story as I observed our surroundings. By the looks of it, we could have become lunch meat as soon as we tired.
"There was a crowd of people,” Jon continued his informative recap. “You couldn't really tell what was going on. Looked like a protest forming... The police set up a blockade, the reporter said for folks to be calm as they passed out antibiotics, and you could see people being lined up and escorted into a guarded fenced in area where they had tents; and doctors had on gas masks or Hazmat suits like they belonged in a laboratory. They said it was a healthcare facility for those who feel they might be infected. I still didn't see what Diana was seeing. Then, a man in a suit, wearing a doctor’s mask comes in the picture and tells us when a team arrives in our neighborhoods that we should all go with them for tests in the greatest effort to contain the spread of any virus that may plague the streets. Shortly after, someone in the rear of the screen was attacked. We couldn't make it out at first. People were turning on each other in front of our eyes, biting and tearing at each other’s—” he paused, but only for a brief moment, maybe to get his words together, and then said, “Then... everything went out. TV, lights... outside power... a couple people up the street from us had generators. I grabbed my ball bat and flashlight and we headed out in the dark, on our way up the street to see what happened. And that's when we smelt 'em. That's when we heard 'em. That's when I see 'em with my own eyes."
Mike pulled up to a stop sign on the corner of Meadows and North Warwick, putting the Hummer in park, looking thru the rear-view as Jon continued to talk. Maria and Ann looked to Jon as he sat behind me. My eyes focused on the center console as I paid close attention.
Jon's voice lowered as if his head was in his lap. "A man on all fours, his eyes were dark and sunken. Blood... slowly was oozing from his mouth like he had rabies. His face, bloody, scaly… and boy was he vicious. Like nothing I'd ever seen before... Then those bleeding motherfuckers… the sounds they made... like they were in excruciating pain. The way they moved. When they get closer to you they move faster. One was closer than I thought. Right close to my baby," he began to fight off tears with deep inhaling and exhaling, catching his breath, "I moved on him fast. I was fast..." he struggled to say, saddened by his misfortune.
I perceived the thudding sound made when you bump your fist on your head when you're mad at yourself. That's what Jon was doing, beating himself in the head. The girls grew weary of his mental stability, inching away from him, holding each other’s hands. Mike kept a keen eye on him through the rear view, and I turned to see his latent expression.
"Cracked him upside his got... damn head.” Jon said. “He went down then another one had come outta nowhere. He went down... but they both got back up. Diana screaming for me to come on... I just tried to hold 'em off long enough for us to get a safe jump. It was hard to tell how many of 'em were out at that time. And by the time I turned around to catch up to her... I see more of those bloody motherfuckers... I heard her calling out to me thru the darkness. And I know she got away from those monstrosities of hell... I been walking these streets all night and can't find her, never felt like giving up... just finding her. Instead, I've been fighting them things off. This morning I made it to my friend’s house and they were missing. Diana's smart... she'll be at the Manor." he finished.
Mike asked, "Where did the news event take place?"
He answered, "North Warwick Hospital."
Mike looked down toward the end of the street, and before I made out what he saw, he was already out of the truck with his rifle aimed. Abandoned vehicles and blood tracks were in the street pavement in all directions. People’s homes were damaged or ransacked. Then there was Fisher, crouched, his shoulders broad, arms stretched to the pavement, keeping his balance on bloody knuckles and bare feet, knees and elbows parallel, at the end of the street in front of us. He was actually mimicking a wild animal.
"Oh shit!" I gasped, looking at the street sign, getting out of the truck with my rifle up.
The stench of the Bleeders immediately invaded my nostrils. Both, east and westbound streets were covered with them.
"Mike," I yelled. "We're right in the middle of it."
He lowered his scope to observe the surroundings. Then, he raised his rifle toward Fisher again.
Fisher was gone. More Bleeders approached from where he once crouched.
The moans of the undead echoed through the streets. I realized then, they only did that when they sighted food, or maybe a threat. Then, Mike opened fire without warning.
The Bleeders were at least half a block and closing, hordes of at least fifty in all directions. Jon hopped out the Hummer with two .45 handguns, spare clips bulging from his pockets, a tactical shotgun strapped around his shoulder, and a fully loaded shotgun ammunition belt around his neck. He aimed at anything behind us and started shooting. Ann got out the truck; stood close to Mike and aimed her laser gripped .45 west. Maria followed Ann and did the same; she was shaky, looking as if she’d never fired a pistol. I aimed at the Bleeders to the East and opened fire.
Our malicious bombardment controlled the streets. If anyone was alive within two miles of our radius, they would have made us out, dropping the Bleeders one by one; but they kept coming. The girls were inexperienced but made up for it the more they shot. And after Maria's first two clips, she got the hang of it with Mike's patronage, taking out Bleeders who were set for attack, lunging forward – like Jon said – as they got closer; like Fisher did when he turned. Jon was a shooter – controlled shots from the second he hopped out the Hummer. The sounds of his magazines hitting the pavement and reload timing, and the way he took down Bleeders proved that he would become a great asset to the group.
The Bleeders moans vibrated the gravel; their numbers were hardly weakening as they continued to approach, their moans becoming more sickening.
I said, “There’s too many of them. We should concentrate our fire in the direction we’re headed.”
We did.
Jon came from behind the truck and I moved in beside Mike.
"Maria!" Mike exclaimed, "Take the wheel and drive behind us." he ordered, handing her his rifle, "Throw this in the backseat," he finished, pulling the 9mm out of its holster.
The group pushed forward, stepping thru corpses and leaving shells behind, still firing. I reloaded and continued firing up the street, Ann started using her laser sight to extract the most accurate head shots from 20 yards away, Mike toyed with each Bleeder like target practice, taking out eyes and shoulders before that fatal shot, and Jon tucked his 9mm semi-autos in the seat of his pants to use a more effective and blood splattering shotgun-to-the-face technique.
It couldn’t have been sooner enough when the large, iron Diamond Manor Estates gate was open in the distance with blood trails through the entrance. With a great amount of Bleeders down and the street mainly cleared, westbound on North Warwick was safe to travel in the Hummer, so we turned to load up in the truck, and realized the crowd of Bleeders we left behind had gathered in the hundreds: families, patients, doctors, WCPD, WCFD; the district.
We rushed into the truck. Maria hit the gas, and we entered the Diamond Manor Estates gate before the Bleeders had a chance to catch up, smacking a few back down to the pavement with the force of the grill on Maria’s Hummer.
Mike and Ann hoped out and closed the left side
of the gate, Jon and I closed the right, and we used the bicycle chain I found at Warwick City Hospital to secure it, knowing there was trouble inside. But the Manor would be a manageable and sectioned off trouble.
The day before, we were faced with a problem. We thought only to escape. By doing so we were faced with a harsh conclusion. On this day we learned that fear was our survival mechanism, and that our survival depended on not only the strength we possessed individually; but as a whole. Fight or flight? We didn't have that option. But what we did have was each other, together for the cause. And the idea was to fight until the end.
CHAPTER VII
Jon directed us to where his daughter might have been hiding, so we slowly cruised through the calm and deserted streets of Diamond Manor for any sign of life. It seemed as if the entire neighborhood evacuated before the Hurricane, but, that, we couldn't be too sure of, considering the multiple trails of blood that ended abruptly through grassy areas leading between the large houses of the gated community.
We cruised through the area until we ended up in the driveway of a two-story brick house with a two car garage; the largest home on Booster Street. The ground level had been boarded up, the second level had not. And just as the car stopped, the garage door opened.
"Someone's home," Mike said, letting out a sigh of relief.
"Quickly… pull inside." Jon advised.
Maria drove in.
"Who lives here again?" Ann asked.
The garage door closed behind us and we parked next to a shiny black Infinity G37. The garage was neatly kept, with every tool and appliance in its designated spot. It was the opposite of how I liked to keep things in my garage. Thing there would just be thrown where they fit with very little to absolutely no order at all. I was beginning to wonder who lived there myself.
Jon reminded us, "A friend of my daughters." although I would have preferred a specific answer, like Jill, or Madison, Pepper or Tasty.
Everyone exited the Hummer and an unthreatening but straight forward female’s voice came from an intercom by the door to enter the home. "Who are you and what do you want?"
Jon impatiently said, "I'm looking for Diana, Rebekah. Is she here?"
Finally, a name, but it didn’t sound that adventurous to me.
The door buzzed and cracked open.
"Come in Mr. Wardwell." the female voice shot back through the com unit.
We went through the door. The entire first level of the house was well lit. Rebekah, a young lady appearing in her early twenties, came from the second level. Her hair was long, black with golden brown slits. She was dressed in all black, wore a hooded poncho, matching colored blouse underneath, skinny jeans and flats.
"She isn't here, Mr. Wardwell." Rebekah said. "Is anyone of you infected?"
“No, we’re not.” I answered.
Jon looked around as if Rebekah might be hiding Diana from him for some uncommon reason or another and begun to build up tears.
Then, Rebekah comforted him through a friendly, affectionate embrace and led him upstairs. Half way up, she turned to the rest of us and said, "You all should come upstairs with me."
We made our way up the stairs.
She introduced herself with a welcoming smile and greeting. We all greeted her and thanked her for inviting us in, and then followed her into a second level family room, its window overlooking the deserted street.
Rebekah stood in front of the window, her back faced to us, "Last night was horrible," she said. "I’ve seen people. Someone pissed off God and he must have sent them here to avenge him... or he's testing our faith. When I seen you all pull up, I thought you were those men in black fatigues that came through here knocking on doors and taking hostages. Then I noticed you had city plates." She looked at us for a brief moment and then turned back to the window. "I witnessed the broadcast last night... telling us to make our way to the nearest hospital for treatment. If that was the case our phones would work, and if not the phones at least emergency calls. They’ve been outlining this since day 1 of the storm. A news reporter I never heard of or seen before... assisted by someone in fatigues. They plan on cleaning up around here, and I don’t mean sanitational filth..." she turned to face the group, "I went to North Warwick Hospital after I seen the first attack on television... the soldiers were forcing people aboard mobile transport units. The infected were caged, and the people who posed a possible threat of spreading whatever it is were separated, restrained, and approached by people in hazmat suits—"
Jon cut in, "What about Diana?"
Rebekah shook her head, "She wasn't there—"
"How did you—" Maria started before Rebekah finished her sentence.
"Get out?" Rebekah finished. "That wasn't a problem," she paused. "From what I seen was that the infected and the recently deceased would turn into those things. The ones bitten from the infected would turn, even if their limbs were ripped from their bodies... but a few got close to the soldiers..."
I interrupted, "And the soldiers blew the Bleeders heads off, right?"
Rebekah shook her head in agreement, "Then piled the bodies up and burned them right there on the property."
Ann asked, "And you see all this and still managed to get away? How do we know you don't work with them?"
Rebekah laughed as if she was being taunted by a harmless crumb-snatching cockroach, reached in her lower back and revealed a polished, black semi-automatic like the one Maria packed, and said, "This is how I escaped... and if you think I'm a part of this psychotic and demented lab experiment episode of a reality show, you can exit where you entered. You came here, remember?"
I sensed some type of female animosity, jealousy or dislike coming from Ann toward Rebekah. Maybe from the way Rebekah smirked at Mike. But even if so, she grinned at me too during her introduction.
Rebekah's surroundings indicated she may have been a spoiled little rich girl with friends in high places, but at the same time very intelligent, cocky and confident. She was also extremely sexy in a vampiric and alienated sort of way. It was the way her curvaceous body talked through her poncho, perhaps.
Jon hoped to ease the tension between the girls by stepping in. He said, "Her father, Dr. Michael Morgan, has been a good friend of mine for almost twenty years, and he's a well-known and respected environmentalist."
Rebekah stopped him and switched back to the subject about the Bleeders, "The infected has been walking in darkness. During most of the day they can be seen through alleys just standing there, like, in some type of daydream state until something triggers them to moan and proceed elsewhere. They feed off anything with a heartbeat from what I've seen. The soldiers seem to be using them to do their dirty work."
After the serious nature of our expedition was discussed, Ann felt it was her duty to ask one more question. She asked, "Why didn't you leave before the storm?"
A perfectly good question, but everyone had their own reasons.
Rebekah smirked, "The house is made of brick, we have a basement, and I'm not scared of wind or water. Why are you still here?"
Unsatisfied with Rebekah's answer, Ann abruptly answered, "We're not as fortunate as you. If I was rich I would have left this raggedy ass city years ago."
Seeing the tension between the girls was rising, I asked Mike, "What happened to Baker?"
The girls settled down and looked on as if waiting for Mike to answer.
He answered, "We searched the house looking for his mother but it was empty. No sign of blood or anything. He chose to run out the back door, and when I followed him he had already made it onto the next street. I see a few Bleeders and decided to chase after him in the truck, but that's when I noticed you were at the other end of the street with Jon... It totally slipped my mind to find out where he went... but by the sounds of it, his mother either went looking for him... or she seen the broadcast but left before it was over. We can’t worry 'bout him now."
What Mike said may have sounded cruel under lighter circumstances, but we all rea
lized that our situation was one that none of us had to ever face, and that survival can only be reached if we only stayed alive. And I don’t think after his comment did he think about how Jon must have felt; he was in search of his offspring like Baker was in search of his provider and nurturer; unrested until making the connection.
Jon walked to the window, "My daughter is out there somewhere." he scanned the area.
Mike and Ann looked to each other in silence.
I wanted to ask about Sarah but felt it still wasn't the time. Even more-so, I already knew she was no longer with us, so to ask Mike if she was alright would be foolish.
I ended up at the window with Jon. Maria followed. Then, it was Mike and Ann.
Mike said, "I didn't mean it like that. I was just saying that we all need to stick together and move as a team—" before he was rudely interrupted by Rebekah.
"Get out the window!" she exclaimed.
Everyone moved a few feet back from the window; Mike put his finger on the trigger of his assault rifle while Ann and Maria cowered in a darkened corner. Jon ducked out of view, and I looked at Rebekah.
"What is it?" Mike asked.
Rebekah placed her index finger over her puckered lips and then pointed to a mirror positioned over the door, at an angle where we could see outside, but whoever was outside could not see in. It was a few Bleeders. They were coming from in between the houses, and they slowly made their way across the street and into the grass of the neighboring homes.
I made it a point to ask, "What are they doing?"
Rebekah uttered, "Quiet… Don't say anything."
She began to remind me of Pops and his security cameras.
Ann and Maria came from the shadows, Jon sat up straight, and we all watched as they passed.
Rebekah shot back, "Seems like they're attracted to sound. They probably heard you come in."
Mike said, "It might not be safe for you to stay here. Those soldiers are going to come knocking on doors. Sooner or later they'll start knocking them down. We’ve seen them spread severed human parts across the streets attracting them. They’re calling these guys Bleeders. And we only saw one Tracker..."
They Came With The Storm (The Effacing) Page 6
