The List

by Christopher Coleman

  “I got you, buddy,” Dominic said. “Just hold on; we’ll get you some clothes ASAP.”

  “Dad, do you think you can you walk?” Michael was standing over his father now, his voice calm but stern.

  Scott looked at his son, his eyes still wild and scared, but there was sanity in them now, recognition, and he nodded affirmatively to the question.

  “Okay, then I need you to get on your feet and walk with us. Just a few steps until we’re outside. We have a jeep and then we’re gonna get out of here.”

  Scott swallowed and studied his son’s face, seeming to take in each word with great concentration. Finally, he spoke. “I can do that.”

  Danielle could see the restraint in Michael, the lump in his throat, and she was impressed by his understanding that it was his poise alone keeping his father balanced, at least for the moment, and it would be his continued composure that would give them any chance of escaping the nightmare.

  “Okay then,” he said. “Let’s get to it.”

  With Dominic and Michael flanking him, Scott got to his feet with surprising promptness, which Danielle took as a good indicator of his strength. Once upright, he looked over to the bodies surrounding him on the lab floor and then groaned and shuddered. He made a motion as if to vomit, but the wave passed.

  “It’s okay, dad. We’re gonna be outta here in a minute. Just let the man lead you. His name is Dominic. Say hi to him, dad.”

  Scott looked to his left and nodded. “Hello, Dominic.”

  Dominic already had his shoulder propped under Scott’s arm. “How you doing, Michael’s dad? One hell of a boy you got there. One hell of a boy.”

  Scott gave a quick, bewildered nod, as if agreeing with the truth of the words, but needing to shake the notion into his brain. “Yes. Yes, he is.”

  “The jeep is in the front,” Danielle said. “We should head that way.”

  With that, the three companions—now four with Scott Jenkins—exited the Murder Room and headed to the door at the front of the lab, with Dominic backtracking momentarily to secure a pair of pants for Scott from one of the mutilated corpses.

  When he caught up with the others, no one asked questions, and he broke the uncomfortable silence by asking, “Where is James?”

  “He was right here when I came in,” Danielle answered, looking frantically about the lab as she strode toward the front. “Michael, did you see him leave.”

  Michael shook his head. “No. He was here when I came in too.”

  They reached the front door and stopped to deliberate. “What do we do about James?” Danielle asked the group at large.

  Dominic shrugged. “He must have gone outside to wait. He wasn’t looking too good coming out of that room.”

  “I guess we’ll know soon enough.”

  Danielle opened the door and stepped out to the lab grounds, and her eyes shifted reflexively to the bridge and the remnants of the butchered soldiers. Only part of the bridge was illuminated by the shelter spotlights, but in that light, Danielle could see portions of their bodies hanging at gruesome, unnatural angles. They were all dead, that was obvious, and the crabs responsible were gone.

  Danielle imagined the fear and pain they must have experienced as they were ripped apart, and a sudden pang of guilt returned, the guilt for not having warned them of the hunters approaching from the forest. Or maybe it was something else. Maybe, she considered, it was guilt for not feeling worse about their deaths. Or the deaths of McCormick and Davies and the scientists inside the lab.

  Or death in general.

  Danielle sighed and then blinked away the existential thoughts, and the guilt was soon replaced by a wave of gratitude for the distance between her and the corpses, a gap which spared her the details of the soldiers’ ruin, if not the fact of it.

  She brought her attention to the ground in front of her now and realized the crabs weren’t the only things that were gone.

  James was gone too. And so was the jeep.

  4.

  “What?”

  Danielle felt the nervous rise of laughter in her belly as she viewed the empty lot, and then she walked until she reached the spot where the jeep had been parked earlier. There, she did a full turn in the open area, looking for evidence of the missing vehicle.

  “He took it.” Dominic seethed, gritting his teeth as he stood with Michael and Scott just outside the closed front door of the lab. “I can’t believe he took it! Goddammit! I was this close to forgiving him for selling me out, and then this? How could he..? Goddammit!”

  The conclusion didn’t sound quite right to Danielle: James simply fleeing by himself into the night, leaving them stranded amid the peril they were currently facing. But she didn’t argue; after all, James had looked sick outside the Murder Room, and scared, and since he had already treasoned himself once by giving up Dominic’s espionage plan, it wasn’t unreasonable to think he had abandoned them again.

  “We should have left him in the shelter. I knew it. We should have let the crabs tear him apart like they did those bastards on the bridge. And when I see him, he’s going to wish we had.”

  “We don’t know that it was him.” Danielle spoke the words as if they’d been programmed, without conviction. “Or if he did take it,” she continued, turning back toward the lab to face Dominic and the Jenkins, “maybe he...”

  The sentence seized in the back of her throat as her nervous system was suddenly activated, triggering her heart and breathing to race like a missile. Her face flushed for a moment and then ignited with a burning red fear as she stared toward the side of the laboratory. She felt the need to rub her eyes, to clear the vision in front of her, to be sure what she was seeing was real.

  But she kept as still as possible, trying to slow her respiration, fearing that any motion would generate an attack from the twenty or so crabs that were standing in front of her.

  “What’s wrong?” Dominic called. “Danielle?”

  Danielle gave a short quiver of her head, a signal that talking was a bad idea at the moment. She then tipped her head gently forward, and Dominic followed the direction of the nod, looking to his right.

  The crabs that were clearly visible to Danielle were blocked by the wall of the lab from Dominic’s vantage, and he couldn’t see them from his position at the lab door.

  But Dominic recognized there was trouble, Danielle could see it in his face, and as he took a step forward, he craned his head dramatically toward the side of the lab.

  “Stop, Dominic,” Danielle hissed.

  “What is..?” Dominic was compelled to learn the mystery now and ignored the warning. He took several more paces until he could see the side of the building, at which point he stopped, frozen.

  “Oh...no.”

  Seeing Dominic enter the scene, the crabs stirred in agitation, and then gradually they began moving forward, just a step and a half or so before stopping again, at which point they continued to sway and bounce vaguely on their haunches. They studied the two humans before them for a moment, and before Danielle and Dominic could devise a strategy for dealing with the danger, the group of crabs began to disband.

  The most distant crab from Danielle, the one farthest to her left, loped off in the direction of the bridge, continuing until it reached the outer point of her peripheral vision before it disappeared in the night. The other crabs followed suit, fanning out until they created a wide semi-circle, creating an arch over the group of fugitives like an umbrella of ghouls.

  But Dominic and Danielle weren’t trapped, not quite; the barrier of crabs only prevented them from going forward in the direction of the lab and beyond. Behind them, if they chose to run, was open space, and if they were fast enough and could keep their footing, it wasn’t unreasonable to believe they could make it to the river before the crabs were upon them.

  But that option didn’t really exist, at least not in Danielle’s mind. Scott and Michael were her responsibility now, and they were still on the stoop of the lab entrance, just no
w becoming unaware of the threat that was hovering less than fifty feet away.

  The father and son could retreat, Danielle supposed, go back inside the lab and wait there until the beasts scattered from the lot in pursuit of her and Dominic. But there was no guarantee the crabs would come after them if they ran, and Danielle was reluctant to divide the group unless she was offered no other option.

  Within moments, however, when a giant thump rattled the large metal door of the lab, the option of returning to the lab was obliterated as well.

  At the crashing sound of the entrance, Scott and Michael cowered like dogs in a thunderstorm, the older Jenkins dropping to his knees and covering his head with his arms. Michael simply froze and stared back at the door.

  “Michael!” Danielle shouted. “Get away from there!”

  Another thump pounded the door, and this time Michael pulled his father’s arm up, lifting him to his feet, and father and son dashed away from the lab, reaching Dominic and Danielle in seconds.

  The four survivors stood huddled now, teetering on helplessness. Danielle was still unarmed, and she felt naked as she studied the crabs, which seemed to be encroaching, though their movement was nearly undetectable, like the hour hand of a clock.

  Dominic pointed his pistol at the door now, his hands trembling in anticipation of the flood of white enemies that would be coming through it in a matter of seconds.

  “We have to go,” Dominic said. “We have to run.”

  “My dad can’t run,” Michael pled. “We have to stay. We have to...to fight them off.” His voice was weak, unconvinced of his own words.

  “No, Michael,” Scott answered instantly. He coughed once and cleared his throat. “Dominic is right. They’re coming. You can see ‘em. They’re gonna get to us eventually. These ones standing here and the ones coming through the door.” He gave a disdainful look toward the crabs and shook his head. “All of us are going to die if we just stand here. Not enough rounds in that Glock to take them all out.”

  “If we run, you’re running with us, Scott,” Danielle explained. “Running without you was not part of Dominic’s suggestion.”

  Dominic didn’t confirm the truth of Danielle’s declaration, but Danielle didn’t care. She had no plans on leaving Scott to die alone.

  “I appreciate you saving my boy, but you’re gonna need your ammo for you. I’m only going to slow you down. Michael’s right, my legs are weak. Not sure I can run.”

  Michael had begun to cry, and Scott smiled, trying to soften the situation. “Hey, Hey? You’re gonna be alright, Mikey. You are. You’re my boy. You’re a survivor. And you’re going to survive today. You’re going to get out of this place and help Danielle and Dominic find the people who did all this. Find the people who killed your sisters and your mother.”

  Danielle spoke up, interjecting with pragmatism so as not to give the heartfelt moment a chance to breathe. “You know, I once read a story of a mother who fought off a seven-hundred-pound polar bear to save her children. Seven-hundred pounds. These kids were outside playing hockey, this bear attacks them, and she literally put herself in between the animal and the kids and fought the thing off with her bare hands.”

  Scott stared at Danielle, seemingly bewildered by the impromptu tale.

  “So, the point is, if she could do that, I think you can manage to run a few hundred yards on tired legs.”

  Scott shook his head slowly, frustrated by Danielle’s stubbornness. He then sighed and shrugged. “Guess I can try.”

  “Good.”

  “But you don’t wait for me. If I go down, or fall behind, you keep going.”

  Danielle nodded absently. “Sure.”

  “Say it,” Scott commanded.

  Danielle rolled her eyes. “Fine. If you go down, we keep going.”

  “Or fall behind.”

  “Or fall behind.”

  The rattle of the lab’s door handle brought everyone’s attention back to the threat at hand, and they scrutinized the silver knob as it wiggled erratically back and forth.

  “I think we should go,” Dominic said.

  Danielle looked at Scott. “Go,” she said. “That’s how we’ll do this. You go first to get a head start.”

  “Don’t cheat on our deal, Danielle. If I can’t keep up, then—”

  “I want to see how they react when you run. If they start chasing you as soon as you start running, then we’ll know that’s their strategy.” She paused and looked at Michael. “Would you rather we experiment on Michael instead?”

  Scott gave a suspicious look. “Fine. But don’t waste your ammo on—”

  “Go!”

  Scott hesitated a beat before finally turning and facing the river, and then he looked back at Michael one last time. “I love you boy.” Then back to Danielle. “Where do we meet?”

  Danielle grinned. “That’s my dude,” she said and then gave a stern nod. “There’s a place about a mile up the river. They used to rent kayaks and rafts and things like that. Can’t remember the name, but you can’t miss it. It’s in an—”

  “Maripo Adventure Company. I know the place.” He paused and raised an eyebrow. “What? You think black folks don’t kayak?”

  Danielle snorted a laugh, and before she could banter back, Scott was off, slowly and limping, but at a pace that wasn’t beyond hope. It was his stamina that Danielle worried about, however. He was malnourished, dehydrated, and without water and calories to burn, he wouldn’t make it far if the ghosts suddenly gave chase.

  As if triggered by Danielle’s concern, the crab to her left twitched its head up, then forward, like a dinosaur trying to catch the scent of its scurrying prey.

  “You see that one?” Danielle asked.

  “I see it,” Dominic answered, hovering the Glock .9mm somewhere between the fan of ghosts on the lot outside and the ever-bulging door leading to the lab. “But I can’t cover everything. And it’s too far anyway. I can’t hit it from here. Not with a pistol.”

  The nervous ghost clicked its head up again and then looked over to the monster beside it, and, if Danielle hadn’t known better, she would have sworn it signaled to it with a nod.

  The second ghost snapped its head forward now, and then opened its mouth wide in what appeared to be a massive yawn. There was a moment of stillness between them, and then, in unison, both crabs took three quick steps forward, appearing ready to explode into a gallop before stopping suddenly, reminding Danielle of a sprinter false starting at a track meet.

  “Dominic!”

  “I see them!”

  The same crabs began moving forward again, now at a walking pace, but this time they kept going, slowly accelerating as they progressed, clearly testing what the reaction of Danielle—and more importantly Dominic—would be.

  Within seconds, the two crabs were off, quickly reaching the slope that led to the river, steadily closing in on Scott.

  The rest of the horde held their place in the fan, but Danielle knew it wouldn’t be long before their strike would be unleashed as well, and at that point, Scott would be right, there wouldn’t be enough rounds to stop them.

  Danielle took a breath and thought of the crab on the roof of the Mazda dealership. This was the moment she had trained for—not for the soldier in the tower (which had turned out to be Dominic)—and not to save herself. It was to save her fellow human, and at this moment, it didn’t matter if the gun was a rifle or a .9mm pistol.

  “Give me the gun, Dom.”

  Dominic examined Danielle, confusion wrinkled into his forehead. But he could see the tenacity on Danielle’s face, hear the resolve in her voice, and he handed her the pistol without a word.

  Danielle gripped the weapon and then stretched her arm behind her in a wide sweeping motion before bringing the pistol in front of her, holding her arms extended now, the gun at eye level. She studied the gangling target in front of her, galloping like a three-legged horse, the white sheen of its body making the mark relatively clear, considering the night sk
y. In a moment, she knew Dominic was right about the more distant crab; its yardage and wide route made that shot impossible. The nearer crab had also started at a distance too far to hit, but during its pursuit of Scott, it had adjusted its route, taking a more direct path across the hill toward the exhausted man. It was probably forty yards away now, a difficult pistol shot for anyone, especially in the dark, and particularly for Danielle, who had had little practice with this type of weapon in her lifetime.

  But she cleared her mind and let out a breath, and when her body achieved a stillness she’d never felt before, she squeezed the trigger.

  Danielle’s body remained motionless, as if it were encased in concrete, and she watched in silence as the crab fell, first to its knees and then forward onto its face, its body dropping as if a switch had suddenly been toggled off inside its brain.

  Danielle knew it wasn’t a head strike though—it had likely struck its ribcage—but it was a direct hit, perhaps even piercing the beast’s heart.

  Danielle then moved the pistol to her left, trying to find the crab that was previously out of range, praying it, too, had move closer to her. She located the white blur quickly, but it had kept on its original route, and was now bounding at full speed and over a hundred yards away.

  She took her eye from the gun and looked across the hill at Scott, helplessly. She put her hands on her knees and bent at the waist, doubled over, feeling sick to her stomach.

  She looked to the ground now, and then to Michael, who had also looked away, not wanting to witness the violent death of his father.

  No! she thought. I need to give him a chance.

  She stood tall and turned again toward Scott and then cupped her hands around her mouth. “Scott!” she called. “Turn around!”

  Scott wasn’t quite halfway to the water, and upon hearing his name, he stopped and turned toward Danielle, and then immediately rotated a half turn to the pursuing crab, which was now fewer than thirty feet away.