Raptor Apocalypse

by Steve R. Yeager

  It would not budge.

  Eve moved next to him to assist. They both shoved hard upward. Her muscles knotted and bulged. Adam grunted and strained alongside. Even with their combined strength, it would not open.

  Adam stopped, lowered his arms. “It’s no use,” he said. “We’re not going to get through this way.”

  Frustrated, Eve shoved him aside. She backed up, spun her spear around, and slammed the butt end against the hatchway.

  It rang out like a gong.

  “Stop!” Adam yelled, grabbing her arm.

  She froze. Her eyes opened wide, quickly realizing what she had done. All the hairs on her neck stood, and her arms broke out in gooseflesh.

  She lowered the spear. “Adam, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “Too late,” he replied. “They know where we are now.”

  “Should we go back and look for another way?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “You really want to risk that?”

  “No,” she said. “What then?”

  “We gotta get through here. Maybe we can pry it open.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  Adam reversed his spear and jammed it into the gap at the bottom of the hatch. He pulled downward. The hatch moved slightly. He moved his hands farther down and yanked harder. More flakes of rust peeled off and fell away.

  Eve inserted her spear into the new crack he had made. She pushed while he pulled. The hatch rattled, moving slightly, but frustratingly refused to open. She shifted positions to heave again.

  “Shhh. I heard something,” Adam said, stopping. She stopped too.

  It started as a scratching sound on the door below.

  “What was that?” she asked, turning in horror toward Adam.

  “They’re here,” he said in a hushed voice.

  “Not funny.”

  A bang on the door at the bottom of the stairs startled her. She saw the first hints of fear in Adam.

  A second passed between them.

  Without saying a word, he resumed his efforts to open the hatch with increased vigor. She joined him. She rocked her spear in the gap, attempting to synchronize with him, but it was impossible. There was no rhythm to their work.

  “Open, please,” she begged.

  Then, sweat that had built up on the palms of her hands caused them to slip. Her knuckles smashed against the wall, and her wrists went numb. She fell against the wall. Her hands tingled and she couldn’t make them work right.

  Another bang on the door below spooked her. Then it happened again, another boom. Based on the intensity, she was certain the raptors would get through any second.

  She shook her arms to try to get her numb hands to work again. Sensation slowly returned, along with fresh spasms of pain, but she was able to reaffirm her grip on her spear still wedged in the crack. She pulled down. The metal pipe bent. Blood ran from her knuckles, making her grip even more tenuous. When she shifted positions again, she saw that their combined efforts had only moved the hatch a few inches.

  Not nearly enough.

  “I can’t,” she said. “Can’t.”

  Adam repositioned himself. “Come on! Help me!”

  The stairway door below shook again, rattling violently against its frame. It was not going to hold for much longer.

  -27-

  MIGHT AS WELL JUMP

  EVE LEANED HER head against the wall of the tiny enclosed space while Adam continued to bang away frantically at the hatch. Below, at the bottom of the stairway, raptors slammed against the door in an unrelenting effort to burst through. The noise was deafening.

  Any second, she thought. “Adam, stop. Just. Stop.”

  He ceased his efforts and set the butt of his spear on the landing. Panting heavily, he leaned over and rested a hand on the wall for support.

  “It’s over,” she said. “We can’t get out.”

  “Don’t you hear them?” he said and took a few more labored breaths. “Have you lost your mind?”

  Eve could no longer look at him. She suddenly felt terribly ill. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have lied to you. I made you come with me. Really, you didn’t have to, but it’s my fault you’re here.”

  He stared back at her. His nostrils flared wider with each breath. “You lied?” he said.

  “Yes, I lied.”

  “Why?” he asked. “Why? How could you do that?”

  “Because I—”

  The door rattled again, causing them to both turn and look down the darkened stairwell.

  Adam leaned closer. “We can’t give up. Come on!” he yelled. He lifted his spear and smashed it against the hatch. “I’m not about to die here, so you better help me!”

  “I can’t,” she said, stepping down to the top stair. “It’s over.”

  “Yes, you can. You have to,” he said. He again smashed the butt of his spear hard against the metal.

  Another boom sounded on the door below.

  “It’s over,” she repeated.

  “No, it’s not. Don’t give up.”

  He hit the metal above his head with his spear, making a loud clang. He stopped to roll the spear in his hands and secure his grip. “How’s it going to look having Adam and Eve leave Eden then die trapped in a damned stairwell?”

  She moved close enough to put a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off, almost hitting her in the face with his elbow.

  “Come on. Help!” he yelled.

  Reluctantly, to appear as if she were doing something, she brought her spear up and crashed it against the bottom lip of the hatch. Surprisingly, it punched through the corner, slipped out of her hands, and shot forward until only a foot of it remained inside with them.

  Adam stopped what he was doing and looked at her with shock, then jammed his own spear into the same corner and pulled downward. Eve joined him, yanking hers out and prying with everything she had, gritting her teeth and grunting in frustration.

  Suddenly, a chunk of metal broke off and threw them both off balance. She fell forward onto one knee, while he caught himself against the wall. When she looked up, light was streaming through the new gap they had made. They both worked furiously at the new opening and pried upward, downward, in circles. Adam wedged his spear in and pulled down hard. The hatch briefly protested.

  And then it burst open.

  Panting, he made an after you gesture, and Eve rushed up the ladder and out into the waning light. She skidded to a halt on the pea gravel. She could hardly believe they’d made it out alive.

  “Told you,” he said as he joined her. “Have faith, Eve.”

  “Faith,” she repeated, looking back at the twisted hatch. They had almost destroyed the thing. Once it closed, it would not stay closed for long.

  The door at the bottom of the stairway banged again. It sounded as if it had swung open this time and the raptors were already pouring through it. She could picture them running up the stairs with their hooked claws out and jaws full of dagger-like teeth coming to rip her open and eat her while she was still alive.

  Dizzy with fear, she helped Adam fold the bent metal back into place, pressing down on what remained of it to seal it off.

  A raptor slammed into the hatch from below, causing it to buck upward. Her heart skipped a beat. She looked at the horizon, and everything around her seemed to grow narrow and waver. The sun would soon set, she realized. Something was important about that. Something she should know.

  “Go, look for a way down,” he said. “I’ll hold it closed.” His voice seemed slow and measured.

  She nodded and stumbled off to the rear of the building. She caught herself on the edge. Below her was a weed-filled parking lot. To her left, a ladder made from rounded steel bars led down.

  Her lightheaded feeling was going away. She shook her head to clear it further. In the alleyway between the stores, she saw a group of raptors running along in single file. When they spotted her, they halted, spread out, and began pacing underneath the ladder. Their mouths opened and
closed menacingly as they hissed and snarled. One tested the ladder but only managed to hop up to the first rung before falling off.

  Thoughts of defeat began to take root again. She pictured dying on top of a roof in the middle of nowhere. She’d soon be dead, torn to pieces by the raptors. No one would ever know she had been here.

  “Faith,” she whispered, reminding herself of what Adam had said. “Faith in what?” All the events of her life had led to this singular moment. She had made it for years, surviving, losing her family, her friends, finding new ones, then finding Noah, loving him, only to have him treat her the way he did. She still loved him. She hated herself for it and only wished she knew why. If she could have kept Cory there in Eden, then she wouldn’t be in this mess. This was all his fault. He was the one who had run away. When she found him, she would do exactly what Noah had told her to do. She had made it this far and would see it through.

  Faith.

  She ran to the opposite side of the building. A yellow logo was visible on a large steel and concrete canopy. Below it were six raised concrete islands with gas pumps on them. But to get to that canopy she would have to jump across a gap of fifteen feet or more. That was just too far.

  Raptors emerged and scrambled below, staying in the shadow of the building. So little sunlight remained that they were free to go almost anywhere. She couldn’t tell where they were coming from, but their numbers were steadily increasing. They had also noticed her and ran with their heads tilted up, tracking her. More were arriving every second. Soon, dozens circled below like an angry school of sharks that had smelled fresh blood in the water.

  “Eve, help!” Adam yelled.

  She glanced back, located him. He was struggling to keep the hatch closed. It kept bouncing up and down, pushing him backward little by little. He kept shifting his feet back into place and using his weight to hold it closed. She ran to help him and threw her weight against the bent cover. Snarling raptors shoved their clawed forearms through the newly formed holes and gaps, snapping, hissing, and raking at the metal. One reached out for Eve. She dropped back and brought her spear inline to stab at them through the gaps. The raptor that had tried to grab her remained with its forearm stretched through a hole as far as it would go. She jabbed at it, causing it to shriek in pain. She forced it to withdraw and followed it with her stabbing spear. The tip came back covered in blood. Frantic squeals and screeches streamed from inside, a cacophony of noise. She stabbed again and again through the different holes, hoping, praying.

  The pressure coming from below lessened.

  “There is no way off the roof,” she said. “I’m sorry I got you into this mess.”

  He smiled grimly. “There has to be a way, Eve. You’re smart. Think of something.”

  She thought for a second. He was right. There had to be a way. But, the ladder was blocked. The jump across to the canopy was just too far. They’d never make it. The more she thought about it, though, the more she began to doubt her initial assessment. She’d had little time to think. Had she misjudged the distance to the canopy? Could they make it? She looked to the only side of the building that she had not yet checked. It led to the roof of another building at least a story higher than the one they were on, but she could see no way to climb up to it.

  There was only one way they could go. She pointed in the direction of the gas station canopy. “We have to run. We have to jump across the gap.”

  “What?”

  “It is the only way.”

  “Jump? Gap?” he asked. His mouth remained open.

  “There is a roof above the gas pumps over there. I think we can make it. It is a long way, but I think we have to. You have to run. Run as fast as you can and when you get to the edge, jump.”

  “You sure?” he said grimly.

  “It’s the only way.”

  “Then, you first. I left my Superman cape at home,” he said.

  She hated him for doing that. “I love you, Adam. You know that. You really are my best friend. We can do this. I know it.” She took a deep breath and squeezed his hand. She felt as if it might be the last time she ever did.

  “Go, hurry, I can’t hold this much longer,” he said.

  She let go and reaffirmed her grip on her spear, twisting it around and grabbing it tightly enough that her fingers turned pale. Blood from her banged knuckles oozed out and formed into shiny droplets. She was going to die, she thought as she looked at her hands. But she had to try.

  She went to a spot where she could get a running start. Then, feet skidding, arms pumping, she ran hard. She had to be moving at full speed when hitting the side of the building to have any chance of clearing the gap. If she failed, she hoped the fall would kill her or knock her unconscious before the raptors got to her. She reached the edge and leapt off with every bit of strength she had.

  Sailing through the air, her legs flailed below her. She thought of nothing other than making it to the other side. Then, with a blow that knocked the wind out of her, she landed on the canopy above the pumps. The spear ripped from her hands. She somersaulted forward three times before coming to a stop with one foot dangling over the side of the canopy. If she would have gone slightly further, she would have fallen to the concrete below. She lay still for a few seconds, stunned and gasping for breath. When she sat up, she felt her bra-strap come unhooked. She quickly readjusted it and pulled her breasts back into place. When she tried to move one of the straps over her shoulder, she found it had become stuck on something. Craning her neck, she pulled at a flap of fabric. Her shoulder was scraped and her shirt had ripped. The bare skin beneath was now streaked with dirt and weeping blood. Her heart continued to thump wildly, less from fear than from the excitement of having survived. When she examined her hands, they were covered with dirt and peppered with chunks of embedded gravel.

  Since she had made it, he would make it too, right? As she shifted positions to watch him, she heard him yell out something from the rooftop, but wasn’t sure what he had said.

  Then she saw him. He cleared the side of the building and flew across the gap. His feet were scissoring back and forth as if he were running through the air. With a strange detachment, she realized something. He must have leapt too soon or had not pushed off hard enough.

  He wasn’t going to make it.

  She lunged to the edge. He slammed into the side of the canopy structure and his body folded around it. His spear fell away and landed near the pumps, clanking loudly. Raptors quickly covered it. He frantically held on. His arms flapped and fingers clawed for purchase. She reached out and was able to lock one of her hands over his. He slid down over the side, his other arm flailing wildly.

  Digging deeply into her own reserves, she held on. She felt as if her arm was slowly being pulled out of its socket. She braced her feet on the thin lip of the structure and reached farther over the edge, locking her other hand on top of his wrist. He was her best friend, maybe her only friend, hanging below, holding on, swinging above a sea of fangs and claws. There was no way she would ever let go.

  The raptors snarled and jumped. Their claws grabbed for his feet, but they could not reach him. She held on tightly. Her fingernails bit into his wrist, bent backward, and were threatening to tear off. The bleeding from his wrists began to weaken her grip. Still, she made progress, straining, hauling him up slowly. If she could pull him up only a few more inches, then he would be able to hold himself there while she got a better grip.

  She began to feel her fingers slipping.

  “Adam, help me,” she said through clenched teeth. “I can’t hold—”

  “I’m trying!” he yelled from below. “Told. You. I needed my Superman cape.”

  She stole a glance at her feet and wriggled her legs to reposition them. Bracing one foot on a pipe sticking up on the canopy, she resumed pulling, heaving against the heavy weight. Slowly, he inched up as she drew him to her. His fingertips wiggled as he clawed for grip on the canopy. She began to feel his weight slacken as he made i
t farther on his own. She looked down at him, still straining, but smiling too.

  He was going to make it. Almost there, she thought. “I have you. It’s going to be—”

  Giving no warning, a raptor came out of nowhere and clamped its jaws around his dangling foot. He screamed, and his eyes shot wide.

  “No!” Eve yelled. “I won’t let go.”

  But the added weight of the raptor was just too much. Adam’s grip slipped from the edge and through Eve’s fingers in one quick jerk. He fell away, arms pinwheeling uselessly. He landed on his back next to the gasoline pumps. The raptors quickly smothered him in a wild frenzy of motion.

  Letting out a bloodcurdling scream, he thrashed against the concrete, trying to knock them off. His frantic yells of terror cut off suddenly, leaving only the wet sounds of snarling raptors and tearing flesh.

  Eve stood, watching in horror as the raptors shot off in random directions, trailing pieces of her best friend behind them. With a feeling that the sky itself was crushing her, she realized he was gone. She was on her own.

  -28-

  CALVARY

  CORY HAD NEARLY reached the point where rest transitions to sleep, but something at the distant edges of his perception yanked him away from the brink. After a long day of walking, with no real excitement to speak of, and having burnt off the excess adrenaline built up from the previous night’s activities, all he had really wanted to do was get a decent night’s sleep. But, the bloodcurdling scream came again, causing him to shiver in sympathy. It was not just a scream, but the wailing scream of someone dying in agony. The person who had made that horrible noise had to have been close.

  Blinking rapidly to chase away the sleep, he reached for his katana and lifted himself up on his side.

  The scream came again, and then the sound abruptly cut off.