He considered closing his eyes and forgetting about what he had just heard, drift back to sleep, but slowly, his curiosity grew to a level that would not allow him to do so. If others were in the area, he needed to know about them for his own piece of mind. While raptors couldn’t climb so well, people could.
“Stupid idea,” he said to himself.
Opening his canvas bag, he removed three road flares he could use as both sources of light and improvised decoys. He stuffed those into pockets on his jacket, zipped up his pack, and stashed it where it could not be seen from below.
He climbed down from his perch to the dust-covered floor. It was twilight outside, and dark inside, but his eyes had adjusted enough to allow him to make his way to the blue door. The sound had come from somewhere outside, somewhere close, probably near the gas station he had seen.
He cracked opened the door enough to peek out. A quarter moon was rising. Clouds partially obscured it, glowing in orange and purple hues from the final traces of the setting sun. Nothing immediately outside the building appeared threatening, but he heard the echoing snarls of raptors coming from somewhere. He opened the door enough to get through and let it close on a weathered bone, which would allow him to get back inside in a hurry if things went south. He crept to the end of the building and peered out around the corner. Over by the gas station, a pack of raptors had apparently made a kill. They were fighting each other over the scraps. One of the raptors skittered off with something flopping in its mouth. As it ran, others chased after it, pecking at it from behind to get it to drop whatever it had in its mouth.
On top of an overhang above the gasoline pumps, he saw a low-contrast silhouette of someone sitting alone on the roof, a woman, he judged. She had her legs pulled up to her chest. It did not appear the raptors could reach her, but she was trapped up there with no apparent way down.
He thought about it. Who would be stupid enough to be out in the open this late in the day? He immediately suspected a trap. A lone woman used to draw some poor sucker near. It made sense. He scanned the area, looking for places where the woman’s companions could be hiding. Maybe they had seen him earlier and wanted to bait him out in the open. Maybe surround him and attack in number. That did seem unlikely, though, since the raptors had already killed someone. While the woman was high enough up they could not reach her from below, they did seem to be trying awfully hard, or were waiting for something. One was perched on a gasoline pump and staring upwards as if it was hoping for something to fall over the edge.
No, this was not a trap. Somehow, the woman did look familiar. He had seen her before, but she was too far away to be certain.
He removed one of the road flares from his jacket, popped the end cap, and struck the flare against the ground. The dynamite-shaped tube burst into flame and cast a bright red glow around him. The raptor perched on the pump spotted him first. It leapt off and hissed in warning. Heads of a few others turned in his direction. Then, all at once, they seemed to sense that he was an easier target than the woman and moved in his direction, tails flicking back and forth.
Mistake, he thought. The flare in his hand hissed and sputtered back at them. They came slowly at first, then trotted, and then broke into a full run, eating up the distance quickly.
He casually dropped the flare. It rolled to a stop a few feet away. With his right hand, he slowly slid his katana out of its sheath, drawing it up and over his head. He raised it in front of his face and added his left hand to the handle. Widening his legs and sinking low, he assumed a warrior’s stance, knees bent, back straight. Breathe, he told himself. He sucked in the cool night air, and let it out evenly while centering his mind. He had counted eleven raptors in total. He had fought more before, but this many all at once presented a problem.
He pushed aside any negative thoughts and lifted the katana in preparation. A passage, recalled from the Book of Five Rings, came to mind: determined through calm.
The first raptor approached him at a full sprint and leapt. He ducked and brought his sword in line with the charging raptor. It could not alter its course in time and ran straight into the blade. He absorbed the energy of the blow and redirected it into the cut, using the creature’s own momentum to cleave it into two parts. Blood and entrails burst forth, spattering across the asphalt. He stepped left. A second raptor came at him. Dodging right, he swung the sword around in a semicircle. A headless raptor now bounced and skipped across the pavement.
The largest of the approaching pack ran at him from the right. It did not move with the same awkward recklessness of the younger ones. Instead, it moved to within a few feet of him and stopped. Its head cocked to one side, and then the other as if it were attempting to size up a challenge it had never encountered. Two other raptors skidded to a halt behind it, and those two began to circle behind him.
He waited for them to attack. They did not seem willing to charge at him directly, so he charged them instead, driving straight at the large raptor and hacking into the side of its neck. It was an easy move, but the ground, slick from blood, caused him to slip. He wobbled unsteadily, stumbling forward, before ramming an arm out to stabilize himself. He could not complete the cut, and the blade became stuck part way into the raptor’s thick brain cavity. In that brief moment, another creature slammed into him from the side, knocking him down to the pavement. As he fell, his blade came free from the raptor’s skull and he drove the pommel of the katana down hard on the other’s head, knocking it to the pavement. Inertia carried him to the ground, where he spun and landed on his knees with the sword ready to ward off the next attack. His sudden movement had startled the remaining creatures. He used the short time interval while they rethought their situation and hopped up from his knees to regain his feet.
The two that had attempted to flank him rejoined with the larger group. Like a choreographed team, they moved parallel to him. He remained unmoving, waiting for their next charge. Red, fierce eyes glared back at him. Half-open jaws, brimming with needle-sharp teeth, opened and closed before him. The stench of their fetid breath enveloped him like a blanket of thick, soupy fog. He wanted very much to gag, but instead covered his nose with the back of his hand and coughed. He knew he could not take them on all at once. So, he chose the only prudent option available, he ran. He wanted to gain the necessary space to maneuver and draw out a few individual raptors along with him.
An abandoned panel van parked near a propane tank offered temporary cover, so he headed for it at a full run. Upon reaching it, he slipped around the side and placed it at his right shoulder. He could use the van to force them to come at him one at a time.
They did.
With a wet, slapping sound, he beheaded the closest raptor. Blood pumped out from its neck, and the body crumpled and collapsed. Another stepped over its dying pack mate, approaching him straight on, but it had misjudged and slipped, and found itself crashing into the side of the van. Cory drove his blade around in a full circle and then smashed it down into the maw of another raptor, splitting it open between its jaws, all the way to its eyeballs. The sword stopped when the bone grew too thick to continue.
He stuck his foot on its torso and pulled back to yank the blade free. He then twisted downward, then up, and spun the handle of the katana. Once freed, he stabbed the now-free point up and under the jaws of another raptor. The blade slid between the thing’s lower jawbones, impaling it. The point came bursting out through its eye socket. Jerking downward, he pulled at the sword to prepare for another strike. However, this time the blade did not come free. The raptor’s head had come with it, and the sword was now wedged tightly in the thing’s skull.
Two small raptors slammed into him, one into his thighs, and another into his gut. Their combined blows drove him off his feet and backward, where he landed flat on his back. The sword was torn from his hands, and his head smashed against the pavement. Breath whooshed from his lungs. The two raptors tumbled over with him, opening their mouths and stretching their hooked claws out to a
ttack.
With the fraction of a second he had, he rolled under the van, knocking them off him. He tried to suck in a new breath, but could not. His lungs would no longer work. His long practiced calm left him in an instant. Panic took over, and he realized he was going to die.
-29-
COMPLICATIONS
CORY’S LIFE FLASHED before his eyes. He had always believed that whole process was a cliché, but it was happening to him now. In those brief few moments, he remembered his childhood, his sister, the horrid memories, the beatings, the struggle, the constant moving, and the many foster homes.
He was six, standing in the kitchen. He saw his mother’s face. He saw his naked father holding a double-bladed ax. He tried to scream to warn her that father was approaching from behind.
No words came.
She was smiling at him the moment the ax split her head open. When he looked down at himself, he was in his Star Wars pajamas, covered in her blood and brains. Then the ax came for him, but he was too fast for it. He made it out of the house and onto the front driveway. Father ran behind, still wielding the ax. The thing seemed giant in his hands.
Cory tripped, fell, and rolled beneath his father’s work truck. A neighbor, Mrs. Wheeler, came running from across the street.
“Are you okay?” the lady asked as she stepped onto the sidewalk.
His father again raised the ax and ran for her. Cory opened his mouth to scream a warning.
Then present reality returned like a hammer blow. He was trapped under a van. Missing his sword, he felt helpless and weak. His mind whirled, seeking a way to keep him alive but came up with nothing. There was only the moment. Live in the moment, something he remembered from his studies.
Putting his hands up to protect his face, he rolled farther under the van and hit something. He could go no more. Shifting sideways, he felt for what blocked him, the van’s driveshaft. He pivoted to get his feet in front of him and prepared to kick the first raptor coming at him, but the laces of his shoes caught on a protruding bolt. When he flexed his leg, instead of kicking at the creatures, his head banged into the driveshaft. He clamped his teeth together and tried to free his foot. Blood ran into his eyes from somewhere. It stung and blurred his vision.
The raptors were coming, closing in.
He shoved again, and—
What he expected to happen did not.
Squinting, he saw the legs of the raptors. They were turning away. They were running.
What? Where?
He caught his breath and untangled his shoe, rolled out from under the van and retrieved his sword. Except for most of the blade being covered in blood, it remained relatively unscathed.
Across the street from the gas station, coming out of one of the buildings, were at least twenty adult raptors. All were much larger than the group that had pinned him under the truck. One was male, its red comb erect. The new pack began to file into the street next to the gas station.
The creatures that had first attacked him remained close to the gas station, but they had started moving away and giving ground to the new threat, snarling and making guttural noises. The new group moved into the street and came at the others, first slow, then they increased their pace to a full run.
He could never have imagined seeing such a large group of raptors would bring him such relief, but it did.
Once the larger group had encircled the smaller, there was the usual territorial hissing and ground scratching. A few shrieks split the air. Then, as a group, the smaller pack turned and fled. The other pack, led by the leaner and deadlier females, went racing after them, growling and hissing.
Cory leaned against the van, still smarting from having the wind knocked out of him. The nagging voice in his head told him to run. He could still get away before the things returned. But he had come this far, so—
Using the van for cover, he doubled back and then crept across the parking lot, making his way closer to the canopy over the gas station.
“Hey!” he said to the person on top.
“Cory?” a female voice replied.
“Eve?”
“Yes. Thank God, I found you. He died. Adam. Right there.” She pointed to a bloody spot on the ground.
He saw the reflection of the moon in the shiny pool. Around it were a few assorted shreds of torn clothing, but nothing else.
“Who’s Adam?”
“He’s. He—”
Cory cut her off. “How did you get up there?”
“We jumped. Please help. He died. It was—”
“Jumped from where?”
She indicated the building to her right. Cory thought about it for a moment. He could leave now. It didn’t appear that the raptors could get to her once they finished their turf war. She would only add to his troubles and make it more difficult to reach the bunker. He considered it for a few seconds more.
“Okay,” he said, “hold on.”
“Hurry, please. I’m so sorry.”
He walked inside the building next to the gas station and did a quick search. Finding a battered door hanging ajar, he went through it and climbed the stairs. At the top was an open metal exit with a small ladder leading to the roof. He climbed up it and came out on a wide rooftop. To his left was a large air-conditioning unit. To his right was the gas station.
Something heavy landed on his back.
He toppled backward. His shoulders smashed against the rooftop, knocking whatever had landed on him off his back. A small raptor squirmed away. He rolled, ending up flat on his back. The creature screeched at him and prepared to leap.
With a single, well-practiced motion, he lifted himself just enough to whip his sword free from its sheath and drive the tip of it into the small thing. The young raptor twitched at the end of the blade, flinging up pea gravel in its death spasm. He did a more detailed scan of the rooftop while the raptor squirmed and died. Once it stopped moving, he pulled the blade free and got up and jogged over to the side closest to the gas station.
Eve had not moved from where he had first seen her. He cracked his neck and straightened the collar on his jacket. Checking the distance and the drop, he realized he could make it with room to spare. Then he reassessed. If he could make it, the raptors probably could too, the big ones at least. He would have to watch for that.
With a three step running start, he pushed off from the edge and cleared the gap. He rolled into a ball as he landed then stood and brushed himself off.
Eve ran to him and nearly tackled him. She wrapped her arms around his chest and squeezed hard, rocking him back and forth. His mind blanked while she trembled and sobbed against him. For all his ability to survive so well on his own, he had no idea what he was supposed to do in this situation, so he did what he had seen others do. He put a hand on the back of her head, pulled her close to his chest, and let her cry.
“I can’t,” she said between sobs. “Damn you.”
He wrapped his other arm around her and helped her to sit down. It was going to be a long night.
-30-
FIDDLING ON THE ROOF
CORY WATCHED THE sunrise with anticipation. Daylight crept across the decaying buildings dotting the horizon until the sky burned cobalt blue and the mountains to the west shifted from red to brown. Eve had fallen asleep after not saying anything to him for hours. She had stayed close for warmth, listening to the raptors, hugging her knees to her chest. He did not sleep and had dozed only briefly with one eye open. He had grown used to it.
The raptors had returned and stayed below through much of the night, pacing, waiting, and watching. But none had tried to make the leap from the nearby building. In the morning, they finally gave up and scurried off to hide until sunset.
He felt more comfortable being next to Eve than he had the previous night. It had taken some time to adjust to the closeness, but she now felt a little more welcome than before. He ran a hand over her cheek. She woke slowly, eyes blinking away sleep. At first, he had not wanted to disturb her so early af
ter what she had been through but he did want to get going quickly. She was also his responsibility until he could find a place to leave her, like it or not. Strangely, the thought of having her along did not bother him as much as he had first thought it might. Many men had tried to interfere with him on his cross-country trek. Some of them he had helped, some he had escaped from, and some he had been forced to kill. But he had never killed a woman. As he looked at her, he wondered if she might become the first.
“Morning,” he said.
She smiled back at him. “Morning,” she said, yawning. Then, as if her memories of the previous day had come flooding back, her smile faded and she began to cry.
“Stop,” he said. “Now.”
“But—”
“No.”
She turned and nuzzled closer to him. He patted her on the head.
She pushed away from him and stood. “What the…? What was that about?”
He said nothing.
“Am I a little girl? A weakling? Someone who needs pity? Oh, look at the helpless little woman. She must need rescuing by the big strong man.”
He said nothing. She had just gone from zero to crazy in nothing flat.
She glared at him. “I can take care of myself, you know. I don’t need you.”
“Okay,” he said.
“This is all your fault, too. If you had stayed, I wouldn’t have needed to come after you. I wouldn’t be here now.”
That caught him off-guard, but he had suspected as much. He had thought through about twenty different scenarios during the night. Her being sent by Noah factored into nearly a dozen of those.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“You weren’t supposed to leave. I was the one blamed for failing to keep you in Eden. And now Adam is dead. Because of you.”
“You came looking for me,” he said. “No way was I staying. That guy is Kool-Aid crazy and you all are a bunch of nuts.”
She glanced away.
“I am not taking you back there either. So forget about that right now.”
Raptor Apocalypse Page 20
