by Jason Brant
Lance popped the first flare as they crossed the threshold of the giant, underground tube. He held it above his head, bathing the area around them in a soft, warm glow. In the absolute darkness of the tunnel, the flare gave them fifteen or twenty feet of decent visibility.
“Let’s pick up the pace,” Cass said. “Just use the flares for now. We’ll conserve the battery in the spotlight as long as we can.”
Cass increased her speed until she walked just below jogging speed. Lance stayed a few feet behind, his eyes staying on the tracks so he wouldn’t trip. He relied solely on Cass to look ahead of them with her goggles.
Five minutes in, they noticed the stench.
Pungent and enveloping.
Spoiled meat.
“We’re getting closer,” Cass whispered over her shoulder.
Lance wiped at the sweat on his forehead again. His clothing was drenched. The humidity seemed to rise the further in they got.
The tunnel curved to the right. As they walked around the bend, mumbling voices came from ahead.
Cass stopped and Lance almost ran into her.
“Drop the flare,” she whispered. “I’m going to sneak up a bit and see what’s going on.”
Lance tossed the burning flare to the ground and followed her. The tunnel straightened out a few dozen yards ahead and they stopped again. Cass stared straight ahead for a few seconds before whispering again.
“Those two idiots are in front of us. Come up here with me. You’ll be able to see them because they have a torch of some kind.”
Lance tried his best to sneak up beside her, but his feet kicked at rocks as he stumbled in the semi-darkness. He stopped by Cass’ right shoulder and squinted at the tunnel ahead.
The two men stood a hundred yards before them, arguing about something. Their voices carried across the hard surfaces of the tunnel, but Lance couldn’t make out what they were saying.
The banker held the torch, which appeared to be a mop or a broom handle, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt.
“Shit!” Cass hissed. “There’s a Vladdie coming down the tunnel right in front of them.”
“I don’t see it.”
“It’s just beyond the light from their torch. Fucker is huge.” She paused for a moment, her body leaning forward a few inches. “It’s carrying a severed head!”
Chapter 19
The bickering between the men cut off.
They focused on the area ahead of them. The banker held his torch up, letting the light shine a little further.
Lance couldn’t see the Vladdie yet, but he knew it was there.
“Go back and get the flare,” Cass said. “We’re going to have to take it out.”
“What? How? If we use the guns, it’ll just attract more of them to us.”
“What choice do we have?”
“Damn it!” Lance ran back and grabbed the flare.
The men screamed when the severed head bounced on the ground before them. They ran to the left side of the tunnel, opening a door that Lance hadn’t noticed, and disappeared inside.
An ear-splitting shriek came from the vampire. The enclosed space of the tunnel amplified the sound, sending stabs of pain into their ears.
The banker slammed the door shut behind them as the Vladdie lunged at them.
It slammed against the metal door, bouncing off it. The middle of the door bowed inward.
Lance grabbed Cass’ axe and tore it from the holster on her back. He shrugged off the duffle bag, letting it fall to the tracks. If they fired their rifles, they were screwed. Lance decided to throw a Hail Mary pass and see what happened.
“What are you doing?” Cass asked, spinning around to face to him.
“I’m going to hit it with the axe and then run away. You shoot it with an arrow when I get clear.”
“That’s crazy!”
“If it doesn’t work, I’ll shoot it,” he whispered. “That’s a last resort though.”
“But—”
Lance took off down the tunnel with Cass cursing at his back. He held the axe in his right hand, the flare in his left. The rifle was tucked under his arm.
The vampire bellowed in mindless fury.
It lunged at the door again, its bulging, veined shoulder crumpling the metal even further.
Lance tossed the flare to the side and grabbed his rifle from under his shoulder. He dropped it to the ground as quietly as he could and gripped the handle of the axe with both hands.
His nervous system kicked into overdrive as he approached the rampaging beast. His vision narrowed, ears blocking out everything but the sounds made by the vampire.
Sweat slicked his palms.
He could smell its reek as he drew near. Taste its vileness.
It surged against the door again, blowing it off its hinges in a display of rage and brute strength.
The beast stood on all fours, howling into the open portal. Its muscle-bound forearms flared as it stepped forward. In its singular focus on the door, and the men beyond it, the Vladdie still hadn’t noticed Lance.
He crept up on it, holding his breath, muscles twitching in anticipation.
Raised the axe overhead.
Swung with everything he had at the beast’s neck as it stepped into the doorway.
A voice from inside the room said, “Fuck you, Greg.”
The axe sliced through the back of its neck, just above its rippled shoulders.
The blade embedded halfway in.
Arterial spray shot against the doorframe and floor, the smell of copper mixing with the offensive stench of the Vladdie.
It crumpled to the floor, its bulk thudding against the concrete. Its limbs jerked twice and then it was still.
Blood pooled beneath it.
Lance stared down at the corpse, his pulse hammering in his ears. His chest heaved as he sucked in air, not realizing he’d been holding his breath the entire time.
He backed up a few steps and picked up the rifle, never taking his gaze from its body. It was motionless on the floor. Killing it with one blow was something he didn’t expect.
Cass ran up behind him. She lifted the night-vision goggles, letting them rest against her forehead. “That was so goddamn stupid! What were you thinking?”
Shadows stretched across her bruised face from the flare.
“Now you know what it feels like when someone runs ahead by themselves,” Lance said as casually as he could. Adrenaline still coursed through his system and he was starting to get the shakes from it. He squeezed the rifle, trying to hide his convulsing hands.
“Holy shit, bro!” The voice came from inside of the room.
Lance winced. Please don’t let this be a ‘bro’ kind of guy.
He walked with Cass to the open door and peered in.
Both men stood by the back wall. The messenger bag was torn on the floor in front of them, its contents spilled out. The dancer had packed four pornography magazines and a bottle of hand lotion.
Cass pointed at the items on the floor. “You’re carrying jerk-off material around with you? No food, water, or guns?” She looked at Lance, shaking her head. “We should have let it kill them.”
“Hey, don’t lump me in with this dipshit.” The banker stepped forward, keeping his weary eyes on the dead Vladdie. “I’ve been doing just fine until I met up with Greg yesterday.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Greg raised his hands, palms up. “Why all the hostility, bro?”
The banker ignored him. His eyes shifted to Cass, appraising her. “What’s with the Mad Max getup?”
Lance bit back a laugh. “What’s your name?”
“Adam. Thanks for saving our asses.”
Cass stepped back into the tunnel and lowered her goggles again. She checked both directions for more of the infected. “We didn’t do that to save you.”
Adam looked at Lance. “She’s pleasant.”
“Tell me about it. We’re Lance and Cass.”
Cass yanked the axe from the corpse and secur
ed it on her back.
Adam said, “I thought we were the only ones left alive. I haven’t seen anyone except the moron here in two weeks.”
“There are about a hundred of us in a camp outside of Greensburg,” Lance said. “Have you been in Pittsburgh the entire time?”
“Yeah, I’ve been hiding out in a bank vault.”
“Smart.”
Greg said, “I’ve been hanging out in my apartment. I didn’t even know this shit was going on. I feel like I’m on a bad acid trip, bro.”
“What?” Lance looked at the porn on the floor again and then at Greg. Watching his antics outside had already convinced Lance that he was a moron. The lotion and issues of Juggs magazine cemented the notion.
“He hasn’t left his apartment in a month. He didn’t even know about the vampires until last night.”
Lance gaped at him. “How is that even possible?”
“Hell if I know.” Adam shrugged. “The guy isn’t a rocket scientist, if you know what I mean.”
“I heard that, bro!”
Cass turned back to the room. “It was really nice meeting you girls, but we have stuff to do. I suggest you get out of the tunnels ASAP.”
“What? Why?” Adam stepped forward again, looking over the armaments Lance and Cass wore. “You guys are carrying some serious firepower.”
“We’re going to blow the tunnels,” Lance said. “Flood the subway with water from the river.”
“That sounds kinda stupid, guys.” Greg bent down and gathered up his porn, stuffing the magazines back in his bag. “Why would you want to do that?”
Lance ignored him, focusing on Adam. “We think the primary nest of these bastards is down here.” He tapped the Vladdie with his foot. “Gonna flush all of them at the same time.”
Adam chewed on his lower lip for a moment. “Let me help.”
“No.” Cass stepped further into the tunnel. “Let’s get moving, Lance.”
Lance went back and grabbed his bag and rifle. He thought about making a smartass remark about her ordering him around, but the look on her face advised him to save it for later.
“Why not? I can help.”
“How? You don’t even have a gun?” Cass asked.
Adam pointed at Lance’s .44. “Give me that and you’ll have three armed people down here instead of two. If we get out of here, take me back to your camp. I’m getting stir crazy in that goddamn vault.”
Greg mumbled to himself about his torn bag as he tried to keep his lotion and precious literature from falling out of it.
Cass looked back at Lance. “What do you think?”
“We could use another pair of hands setting up the explosives. It would go faster.” He shrugged, pulled the pistol from his belt, and tossed it to Adam. “You got a deal.”
“What about me?” Greg asked. He stood in the doorway, still fumbling with his bag.
“Get out of here,” Cass said. “You’ll get us killed.”
“I won’t, I swear!”
“Oh, well in that case, come on.”
“Really?”
“No! Go back the way you came. We killed the daywalkers back there so it’ll be safe.”
“Daywalkers?”
Cass sighed. “We don’t have time for this—daylight is burning.”
“Just let me follow you. I won’t mess up, I promise.”
She glared at him for a full five seconds. “Fine, but if you do anything stupid, I’ll kill you myself.” Cass nodded at Lance. “Give him a flare. Walk behind us and don’t make a sound.”
Lance pulled one from his pocket, ignited it, and handed it to Greg.
“She’s kinda bossy, eh bro?”
“Yes, she is. And she will kill you if you fuck this up.”
They finally moved down the tunnel again with Cass and Lance in the lead. Greg and Adam brought up the rear, the flare giving them enough light to walk by.
Wet, sticky muck covered the floor.
Judging from the coppery smell, Lance assumed quite a bit of it was blood, but he didn’t stop to inspect it. The stench of the infected grew stronger with every step. The air was heavy with it.
Cass stopped a hundred yards in.
Greg ran into her back. “Sorry.”
“Pay attention!” Lance whispered. He shoved Greg backward a step before turning to Cass. “What is it?”
“I... Jesus...”
Even in the semi-dark, Lance could see her throat work.
“What do you see?” He looked ahead, but couldn’t make out anything because of the limited range of the flare.
“A graveyard,” she whispered. “The graveyard of the entire city.”
“Do you see any movement? Can I use the flashlight?”
She paused. “I think it’s clear.”
Lance pulled the trigger on the handle of the spotlight. The beam reflected off an abandoned subway car fifty feet ahead. The windows were broken out, the metal exterior dented and mangled.
Dried streaks of blood ran from the back door, disappearing beneath the car.
Bones covered the ground on either side.
Thousands of splintered skeletons, piled more than five feet high, stretched as far as they could see.
Empty skulls stared back at them.
“My God.” Lance’s mouth fell slack.
Greg vomited behind them. Their light faded as he dropped the flare to the ground beside him.
Lance popped another one and threw it at the rear of the car.
Adam crossed himself. The pistol shook in his hand like a leaf in the wind.
The flickering light of the torch animated the shadows of the bones.
Dried blood covered every visible surface. Shreds of clothing hung from the ends of femurs and collarbones. Discarded wallets and shoes covered the ground near the end of the car.
“All of these people—” Lance gagged on the rankness of the air. “This is what hell must look like.”
They stared at the remnants of Pittsburgh’s population.
The skeletal remains of a past civilization, devoured by unspeakable horrors.
Lance turned off the spotlight and clipped it to his belt. He inched forward, rifle jammed against his shoulder, eyes scanning the softly lit area behind the subway car.
There was no movement.
Only death.
Cass came along beside him, her M4 at the ready. She flipped her goggles up again as they approached the flare.
“This is madness,” she whispered.
“I don’t know why, but I didn’t expect this.” Lance wondered how none of them had thought of where the remains of those dragged underground would be.
“Neither did I.”
Adam sneaked up behind them, his chest hitching as he hyperventilated. Greg followed him, his face pale and sweaty.
“We have to go back,” he said. His voice was too loud and they heard it echo through the tunnel. “This is crazy! We can’t—”
Lance clamped his hand over Greg’s mouth, cutting him off. He leaned forward until their noses were only two inches apart.
“If you speak that loudly again, I’ll—”
A shriek came from behind them.
The distance was impossible to gauge because of the way sound carried in the small pace.
“Damn! That came from somewhere back there.” Cass spun around and flipped her goggles back into place. “I don’t see anything yet.”
Greg tore Lance’s hand from his face. He whispered, “I’m leaving! This is too much!”
“Go ahead.” Lance nodded in the direction they’d come from. “But it sounds like something is back there.”
“OK, so now what?” Adam asked. He gestured to the skeletons. “Considering we’re standing at the precipice of their lair, and there is one behind us, what do we do? We’re sandwiched in here.”
“We keep going. We’re here for one reason.” Cass went to the rear of the subway car and grabbed a low-mounted railing, hauling herself inside the open door.
Greg whined as he stared down at a crushed skull on the ground. Cass told him to pick up the flare again, which he did begrudgingly. It was wet and sticky when he held it in his hand. He whined even more.
Lance handed Cass his rifle and pulled himself into the car. The duffel bag made it difficult, but he managed. The other two followed behind them. Greg continued crying softly, sounding more like a kicked dog than a grown man.
More bones sat in the empty seats and on the floor, though they weren’t piled as high as those outside. Smeared blood and bits of unidentifiable gore clung to the windows and railings.
It reminded Lance of a workbench he’d once seen at a slaughterhouse.
Except this mess didn’t come from an animal.
All the windows had been broken out. Glass glittered on the floor as they passed by with the flare.
Cass used her night vision again as she led the way.
They reached the far end of the car and paused so she could inspect the next one.
“Clear.”
The doors to both cars were open, allowing quick passage between them.
“How will we know when we’re under the river?” Lance whispered.
“Pedometer.” Cass tapped a watch on her wrist. “Another hundred feet or so.”
“Clever girl.”
“Damn right.”
“Humble too.”
Adam’s voice was low behind them. “Are you guys talking shit to each other? At a time like this?”
“It’s what we do.” Lance kept going. His boots stuck to the floor with each step. Squishy bits crushed under his heels.
They stopped at the next gap between cars. Cass checked their progress on the pedometer.
“We’ll go to the end of the next car and that should be it,” she whispered. “If we climb onto the roof of it, we’ll be able to reach the ceiling.”
“Are you sure we have enough explosives to blow through to the river?” Lance asked. He wished he’d thought of that question before they traipsed through Hell’s asshole.
She held her hands out, palms up.
“What?” Lance leaned closer. “Are you serious?”
“What do you want me to say? This isn’t an exact science.”
“Clever girl, my ass. I take it back.”
“What are you guys saying?” Greg asked.
