I passed him the bottle and said, "Drink up." and whispered, “Wacko.” I didn’t believe anything he was saying; and I bet no one else did either.
Then, I heard the unmistakable sound of someone running across the roof. By that time we were all shocked and staring at the top of the attic, and another set of thuds rushed past.
"What the fuck!" Mike exclaimed as he held his rifle up to the spot where the steps breezed by.
"Squirrels maybe?" I tried to convince myself. "What else? The infected, dead-brain assholes can't climb."
“Squirrels in the storm?” Maria questioned.
“Yea… Maybe,” I said.
Jack grabbed a pistol off his pile from the floor and began saying, "It's the end of the world. A new world is coming soon. The numbers don't lie. The dead walk among us."
I said, “What the hell does six sixes represent?” finally fed up with his hysterical bullshit.
Jack looked at me as if he knew but wasn’t telling; In my world it meant shit for brains.
The noises ceased and everything started to settle down, from Maria’s whining, the thunder and lightning, and the knocking on the rooftop; everything but Jack. His rambling continued all through the night. I wanted to head back down the damn ladder but I’d chose Jack over the infected any day.
He finally shut up when Ann and Maria started to fade out on him, and wished everyone a good night. We all closed our eyes and got a couple hours of sleep, safe in the attic.
Or were we really safe? I wasn’t walking to the dark side of the attic.
CHAPTER X
Day 3
Mike woke everyone up at what should have been sunrise; the thick dark grey clouds just over our heads confirmed the storm was not yet over. After thanking Jack and inviting him with us on our mission (which he declined), we left out of his house the way that we entered to find the Hummer was missing - stolen by someone with, possibly, greater intentions than our own. I already suspected that would happen, considering there were a lot of people still panicking and desperate to leave the city at any cost.
“See!” I said. “If we’d a stayed downstairs we’d a heard the bastards that stole the truck.”
“Remember,” Maria returned. “You’re the one that ended up-stairs late last night; afraid of the dark.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Mike added. “Nothing changes.”
“Nothing changes but the color of my ass when my parents get back in town.” Maria confessed.
“Damn,” I laughed. “You still get spanked? You look like the undercover type that likes it. Nurse by day, freak by night.”
“Fuck off, faggot.” Maria flipped me the birdie.
“Dike,” I grinned.
Ann gave both me and Maria that look again.
“By the looks of it, they might not have a place to come back to,” Mike continued. “An ass whooping should be the least of your worries.”
We remained armed to the teeth, flak jackets and backpacks, keeping all our firearms full of ammo; Mike carried the duffle bag of guns as we desperately proceeded in route to Centre City. We stumbled across a small group of five urban rebels with AK's and handguns, and going up against heavily armed and armored trained men and the infected; they died not standing a chance.
“Maybe we should invite the gang rebels to join us?” I asked Mike.
“Nah… They’re too rowdy. No organization at all. Those guys are concrete pirates.”
“Well who isn’t anymore?”
“Alright,” Mike laughed. “Then they have no structure. They’re like Stripe and his gang from the Gremlins. They were turning on each other.”
“Yea, but they’re not Gremlins. They’re people.” I said.
“They’re loose cannons. If hoods and rebels will vandalize their own neighbors shit during a sudden time like this, just think of how they’d—”
Rebekah stepped in and asked Mike, “Why don’t you ask how we feel about it?”
“How do you feel then?” Mike asked.
“I feel like everyone will come together. I feel the people need to prepare, and need an experienced leader to prepare them. I also feel that leader is here, present with us now.”
“Yea, and who is it?” Mike asked.
“When the time is right.” she answered.
“Hey,” Maria looked to me. “You think I can get some lessons?” she asked seriously.
I almost laughed it off, “You want me to show you?”
“Yea, you’re gun.”
“Sure, why not? Let’s do it.”
I guess that was Maria’s way of getting off subject. Mike seemed to forget what he was talking about; or rather he linked with Ann and discussed it as we walked.
We eventually ended up using the blind, sleepwalking Bleeders as target practice, helping the girls get accustom to the weight of their weapons. And by nightfall, we carefully roamed the streets to make up for the lost time. Most of the power was still out, but those with access used generators throughout the night to prepare meals in basements or completely boarded up homes. Some of the locals inside were gambling over pool games and spades in one of the houses we floated through. A bar was still open for business with its patrons living it up like there wasn't a major crisis at hand, and a block party filled with armed partygoers and middle income families took place on Victory Stage Road, as if the Bleeders and Trackers weren't a threat they were concerned with – some either intoxicated or illegally medicated prepared.
Mac was a southern speaking middle-aged brother that we met at a bar. He drove a beat up, dark blue taxi. He claimed to be utilizing his time bravely creeping through nearby sections of the city, reuniting people with their families, avoiding the soldiers and fighting off Bleeders for a small fee.
Later that night we also met, Conrad. He was an eighteen year old delivery boy that rode a bicycle to work. It was a dangerous job not knowing when someone infected would pop up from around the corner, plus the fact that the soldiers were shooting anyone on sight that they thought posed a threat of the virus by this time.
What would have been about a thirty minute drive turned into a twenty-four hour suicide mission toward Centre City. By the time we arrived, the residents there had built their own barricades to ward off the infected and stuck together in seclusion when the soldiers arrived enforcing curfew or giving speeches about their bullshit offer of treatment.
“Now,” Mike began. “Now, this is structure… The right type of togetherness I was looking for, Dale. Everyone here sticks together without a rouge team… That’s how we need everyone to be,” then belched.
Ann added, “It looks like they built this place into a small military camp.”
“Yeah,” Rebekah agreed. “We’ll find what we’re looking for here.”
“This is another hood territory.” I finished.
Soon after we arrived in Centre City, the Bleeders made their way through one of the barricades and began their cannibalistic pillage. We observed the excitement from fifty yards away, our backs against the brick wall of a boarded up Antique shop; at least forty Bleeders had surrounded a two story home. A woman, possibly in her late thirties, and a teenage girl were trapped in a room on the second level. A few residents of the area failed in their desperate crusade to save the trapped women and died in their attempt. Others tried to direct the Bleeders attention away from the house by throwing rocks and setting cars ablaze, but there was no change in the Bleeders actions.
A riot had begun to blossom on the war-torn streets of Centre City.
"What do you think?" I asked Mike about the trapped ladies.
There was no doubt Mike had a few shot glasses in him. He'd been drinking regularly since we grabbed Jack's liquor from the cabinet; he drunk most of my stash as well. The sweat raced from his temple, the tainted smell surrounding his atmosphere, and his lack of compassion was proof to that. Not to mention he belched after almost every statement.
"I don't." he answered. "I stopped thinking two days ago." h
e stared at the captives and belched once again.
Ann could not help herself but to intervene and say, "We have to help those people," checking the ammo of her custom made .45s. "The sun is barely visible through those clouds, but by the time it does go down we'll all be in trouble..."
Maria added, "We're already in trouble. And whoevers in that house is already dead."
Rebekah acknowledged, "We need to show Centre City that we're here for them... we need to step up and become the leaders of this strike force if we're going to make it out of here alive. Standing by watching is a part of the problem. Not the solution."
Mike laid the duffle bag on the ground. "Maria!" he said, "You, Rebekah and Ann stay here." and began heading toward the house.
I followed.
"What's the plan?" I asked him.
"No plan." he answered, vigorously shaking his head, and then slapping himself on the forehead a few times, as if trying to somehow sober up.
Mike seemed to be slipping away from the group, mentally. Either his drinking was getting the best of him, he had something he hasn't spoken about on his mind, or a combination of both.
“Ready!” I lifted my battle rifle and began shooting at the Bleeders who stood at the front door, creating a path for us to enter.
“After you…” Mike lifted his rifle and began to do the same.
Something seemed different. The Bleeders were more aggressive. Their moans were more of grunts or war cries.
As we moved in closer, we had seen what we'd hoped not to, the Bleeders were prying wooden boards from the windows of the house. They were getting stronger, and they were moving faster.
The female captives continued to scream. The citizens continued to throw rocks and debris, while others unloaded their pistols into the brigade of Bleeders.
An engine revved up. I lowered my rifle.
It was Mac. His dark blue taxi rammed the Bleeders who stood at the front of the house, giving us lead way to the front door.
Mike and I hustled toward the house before the Bleeders could get back to their feet.
Mac leaped out of the taxi with a Tec-9 in hand, filling the downed Bleeders with holes, splattering blood over the front lawn, looked up toward the window and said, "Hurry up. We don't have much time." and continued to fire at anyone infected.
The citizens began stepping forward, fighting off Bleeders.
The women left the window.
Mike and I passed Mac and kicked through the front door.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Mike fired his 9mm. The bullets injected and ejected thru the head of a Bleeder, its blood splattering on the wall behind it. It went down.
More Bleeders made their way in through the back door.
Mac had the front secured.
BANG! POP! POP! BANG! BOOM!
We were engaged in a firefight within the foyer; Bleeders were all over the first level. We were in the hallway fighting for our lives and the lives of the women we were trying to save. And yet, the Bleeders numbers were growing.
"Mac," I yelled back toward the door as I fended for myself, "Tell them to jump. There's no other way out."
Mike released the clip from his 9mm. He tried to put another one in and was attacked in the process, he was nearly bitten. He kicked the Bleeder back just before becoming a victim and pushed the clip in his firearm, unleashing a few slugs into the downed Bleeder. "Fuck this." he said, frustrated. "Let’s move upstairs, D."
We fought off Bleeders with kicks and shoves, bullets and pistol whippings, as we made it to the staircase. The noise was unbearable; gunshots and moans, grunts and shrieking noises.
We left the first floor looking like a slaughter house; blood was on the walls, floor and furniture. At the top of the stairs we were greeted by another Bleeder who felt the fury of Mike's hunting knife through its lower jaw, through the mouth, and into its brain before Mike objectively pushed the Bleeder to the ground.
We took out the remaining three visible Bleeders on that level with head shots.
"Keep an eye on the stairs!" Mike ordered, as he made his way to the closed room door, where the ladies were hiding.
I holstered my pistol and raised my rifle, "Hurry up, Mike."
Sounds from the far end of the corridor, behind a closed door, grabbed my attention; something being knocked off the walls in another room; the sound of a scuffle.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Mike banged on the door to the women.
I walked with my back turned toward the door, keeping my rifle aimed at the top of the stairs, cautiously looking around in case a Bleeder slipped by and was preparing for an ambush.
Mike forced his way through the door with a broad, stern shoulder thud to where the women hid. He came back out by himself. "They jumped," he said. Then, he called to me from down the hall, "Come on."
I placed a finger over my lips and flagged him over.
GRRRR! WACK! THUMP! UMPH!
It came from inside the room.
I stopped in front of the door.
Mike hustled to my side.
I marked my words, "Someone's in there."
UMPH! GRRRR!
Mike grabbed me by the shoulder, pushed me out the way and kicked the door in, 9mm in hand. "Oh shit!" he said, in shock as he entered the room.
I charged in behind him with my assault rifle aimed.
It was two Bleeders. One down, the other being held from behind by a slender forty-something year-old man keeping the Bleeder from attacking the teenage boy who was hurled over in the corner; the teens arms was shielding his face from the horrendous escapade unfolding in front of him.
"Help," the man said. "He's too strong." he said of the Bleeder.
The boy lowered his arms.
Mike calmly walked around to the man's side, aimed the pistol, and shot the Bleeder in the side of his cranium at point blank range. The man released the Bleeder and the Bleeder fell limp to the floor.
The boy rose from the ground and hugged the slender man.
"Thank you." the man said while embraced to the boy, looking to Mike and me with sobbing and thankful eyes.
"Don't thank me yet. We still got to get you two outta here." Mike answered, before turning to me with egg shell eyes that instantly sunk into a rage felt grit.
Mike aimed the gun at me. I grabbed my ears and ducked to a deafening howl.
BANG!
Mike shot once. I turned around.
THUMP!
The Bleeder hit the floor.
"Let's get out of here." I said.
We escaped out the same window as the ladies.
After rescuing the guys, we found out that they had the intentions of diverting the Bleeders away from the ladies, the ladies suspected the men as being Bleeder bait. The slender man introduced himself as Frank Wildes; his wife, Brea, son, fifteen-year-old, Chase, and daughter, 3 month pregnant seventeen year-old, Neshia.
“Thank you,” said Frank. “We wouldn’t have made it if it weren’t for you two gentlemen… Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Well now that you mention it… there is something we’d like to ask.” Mike said.
“Go for it.”
“Are you ready to leave the city?”
“Like people in hell want ice water.”
It turned out the Wildes family was our big break on campaigning for our stand against Sworn. Mac drove them through Centre City while Conrad assisted by word of mouth during his deliveries. They all went through Centre City and brought together so many people, we were requested to present our strategy before the residents at the top of tallest building in Centre City (a ten story apartment building). The request came directly from the Hoods leader, Billy Rain, in the morning, not far from our new basement hideout; at 6am.
We gladly accepted.
CHAPTER XI
Day 4
We were escorted to the ten story apartment building by a group of five thugs dressed in oversized black hoods, black jeans and black boots, that c
arried machine guns retrieved from the corpses of slayed soldiers. The group enlarged as we moved from block to block, and until we reached our destination.
The building stood alone as a room and boarding home, now occupied by drug addicts, dealers and Runners. Along its side was a fire escape ladder leading to the top floor. Surrounding the building was a small, privately owned shopping center and small single level homes. The few people who stood in front, on guard, held AK-47s and had side-arms tucked into their jeans. Bystanders and possible resistance fighters smoked cigarettes. Others were huddled up at the buildings side, smoking marijuana-filled cigars, while another group of citizens made their way into the establishment.
We were greeted by a well-built man who stood about 6 1/2 ft. tall; his biceps were busting out the sleeves of his hooded sweatshirt. He said, "Everybody's been waiting on you..." in a deepened voice, "We don't trust shit about these viruses, but we'll suit it and troop it. Anything moving that’s bleeding we'll shoot it," he finished in a darkened, poetic form.
Mike answered, “We need men like you.” and shook the tall man’s hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The tall man stated.
“The pleasure is ours.” Ann retorted with a slight grin. I took it she fancied men with muscles; like she did Mike.
The inside of the building smelled like crack cocaine and musk; and if you don’t know what crack smells like, just burn a car tire with a Brillo pad and take a whiff. The building was crowded and vaguely lit by torches held by a few civilians - two per flight of stairs we traveled. I knew the people were glad to see us by the nods we received as we passed through, the pats on the backs and the soft chants of thank you and we’ve been waiting for you we received, headed toward the rooftop. And getting closer to the top, I noticed women and children in rooms; they were peeking out to us as we managed our way up the overcrowded staircase with our entourage.
Finally, the rooftop door opened. A solid man about my height, wearing all black and appearing to be in his early twenties, introduced himself as Billy Rain. Billy Led us out on the rooftop where there was at least two hundred citizens waiting. I suspected he was the group leader because he was the only one that identified himself, and when the crowd on the rooftop silenced their small talk amongst each other as he stood on a small platform and raised an open hand, it was enough confirmation to me that he was their superior hood.
They Came With The Storm (The Effacing) Page 10
