Raptor Apocalypse

by Steve R. Yeager

  Sinking to his knees, he covered his face with his hands and tried to weep. But the tears didn’t come. He was a failure, and it had always been so. But, deep in the recesses of his soul, a faint flicker urged him to continue. Hannah. She was there. She was with him, inside him, somewhere.

  Too weak to sprint, he rose and stumbled forward, following the fleeing girl. “Wait,” he tried to yell, but his throat was swollen and the sound came out like a croak.

  The girl kept moving, darting between cars.

  “Stop,” he tried to say, but the words stuck and he could not utter them.

  What she was running from was becoming increasingly clear. Stalking behind her were two raptors, trying to remain concealed in the shadows.

  “Stay! Stay there in the light. I’ll be right there,” he cried in muted desperation. Again, the words came out muffled and weak.

  He hobbled toward her, doubting she had heard him at all. His vision blurred, and the world tilted sideways. He ached everywhere, but he was not going to let her die. Not now. Drawing nearer, he could see that it was not just the two raptors. It was a small pack that pursued her. They were occasionally testing the light to see whether they could step into it. But every time they moved into the sunlight, they reacted to it by twitching and squirming then shrinking back into the shade.

  He closed the distance with her. “Hey!” he shouted, his voice slowly returning.

  She froze and looked at him.

  So small. So fragile.

  He raised his hands to signal her. “Wait! Don’t move. Stay there. Stay right there. Stay in the sun!” Moving between the stalking raptors slinking in the shadows, he hobbled up next to her. His eyes never left them. He watched them carefully for any hostile, tell-tail movements.

  The shotgun wavered in his hands, daring them to approach close enough for him to get a good shot. “I thought I told you to wait in the shelter. That—” She was staring blankly at him. Her sad, raccoon face seemed almost comical. As much as he wanted to yell at her, he couldn’t. He considered picking her up and hugging her, but he couldn’t do that either. Instead, he watched her eyes for a few seconds, hoping what he saw in them was an acknowledgment of everything he had been through for her, and what she had been through, and that together they could maybe survive for a little while longer.

  He saw what he wanted in her when she started nodding slowly. A noise came from behind. He spun to face it. The raptors hissed from the shadows, but they could do little as long as he and the girl remained in the sunlight.

  “Come with me,” he said. He sneered at the raptors hiding behind the cars. They would not get him today, tomorrow, or ever.

  Giving little warning, the sunlight began to fade, and the sky darkened. A quick peek up told him all he needed. Gray storm clouds were drifting across the sky. Soon they would obscure the sun.

  The raptors also appeared to notice and tested the dying light, venturing farther and farther from the shadows.

  A bolt of lightning flashed in the distance. It was followed seconds later by the crashing boom of thunder. A storm was coming. It was growing closer. The skies would open up before long, and the raptors would be able to move about freely. He had little choice but to get them both to safety, immediately.

  “We have to go,” he said. “Don’t fall behind.” Remembering the previous day, he hoped this time she would stay right on his heels.

  The light dimmed suddenly. A cloud had obscured the sun. The area around him suddenly went dark. The first raptor raced from where it had been hiding.

  He snapped the shotgun to his shoulder and jerked the trigger.

  The shot rang out with a boom, hammering his already pounding head. The raptor spun sideways, absorbing the full impact of the blast. He searched for his next target.

  From behind a cluster of cars, all at once, more raptors charged, feet slapping at the ground. He pumped and leveled another shot at the tallest of the oncoming raptors. Pulling the trigger rained a shower of hot steel pellets down onto the lead raptor and the over spray fanned out to hit others in the pack, slowing them. Those that remained seemed to become enraged by his action. They stopped and spread out further, getting ready to circle and flank.

  He left shoulder burned in agony as he tried to keep the barrel of the gun up, but he couldn’t do it for much longer. The last pump to reload had taken everything he had.

  Lightning lit up the sky.

  “Run. Down the street. We’ll circle back. Stay in the sun if you can. The clouds will break soon, I hope.”

  She took off running, but instead of heading down the street, she ran into the gap between the two tall buildings behind him, right into the darkest shadows.

  Jesus H—

  He had no time to finish his thought before the raptors came at him again. He shot, pumped, and shot again. More died, but not enough. He screamed in pain, gritted his teeth, and did everything he could to keep the gun up.

  Misshapen, horrific bodies charged him. He backpedaled, and it felt as if an invisible hand was pushing him toward the girl. A peal of thunder hit, booming in his ears.

  “Run, Jesse,” he whispered.

  Moving as best he could, he took off after the girl. As he ran, he tried to dig the shells from his pocket and reload. He dropped one shell but loaded another. Stopping briefly, he tried to pick up the fallen shell, but the raptors were closing in too quickly, and he had to abandon it.

  He ran harder, faster. The world around him became a whirling blur. His vision fluctuated with each crashing step. Nearby buildings drifted in and out of focus, but he kept his eyes locked on the girl and pushed himself to catch up.

  Everything he had, he used.

  When he rounded into another alleyway, he spotted her making a right turn and going down a narrow street. He knew where it led. She was going the wrong way.

  “Stop! Wait!” He was exhausted, barely able to yell, but he redoubled his efforts and urged his broken body to move faster.

  He had to catch up to her.

  When he got to the corner, he saw her turn left from the street and run down another alley. He started running even harder, overturning anything he could get his hands on, hoping to slow the progress of the raptors on his heels.

  Thunder crashed loudly overhead. His legs ached, his head throbbed, his shoulder burned as if it was on fire, and he was wheezing like an old man with emphysema. He was already past fear. It was his determination alone that sustained him.

  After a few more streets and a few more turns, he came to a skidding halt and drew himself up straight. The girl stood ahead of him in the alley, not moving. The alley she had run into ended in a solid, stone wall. A dead end. Papers, steel trash bins, and piles of windblown debris filled both sides of the narrow alleyway. A fire escape loomed above, but there was no easy way to climb up high enough to reach the ladder.

  He kicked at some of the trash clogging the alleyway and began forming a temporary barricade, something that might slow down the raptors down if he were lucky. Tucking the shotgun under his left arm, he grabbed the girl and pulled her over to a metal dumpster. It offered little protection, but would prevent the raptors from getting behind them.

  She scrambled near and crouched. He got down on one knee, rested the gun in the crux of his folded left arm, and waited. He wasn’t sure he was going to be strong enough to reload after his next shot, but he was ready to try.

  “Come on you bastards,” he said through labored breaths. His vision tilted and blurred, and he was fighting to stay conscious but was fading fast.

  Between bright flashes of lightning and the accompanying claps of thunder, he could scarcely pick out the sounds of the approaching raptors over the ringing in his ears and his rasping breath. However, he did detect the faint sound of claws ticking on concrete. The tone changed when they reached the asphalt of the side street leading to the alleyway.

  He looked to the girl. “Do you know how to shoot a shotgun?”

  She waved her head back
and forth.

  “Okay. I may…” A wave of nausea overtook him and he almost passed out, “I may need you to. I may pass out. If I do, point this end at them and—” He indicated toward the barrel of the gun, and then to the trigger, “—pull the trigger here. Then pump this handle to reload. It’s going to kick. Just hold on. There are more shells … in my pockets if you need them. Wait, maybe I used them. Never mind. Just point and shoot, pump and reload. Can you do it?”

  He hoped she understood because she was staring at him blankly. He wanted to stay awake. He needed to, but his vision was beginning to narrow. This might be it, he thought. He was going to pass out, lose consciousness. His breathing slowed, and he felt a wave of calm pass over him. He felt warm inside, comfortable. He’d accepted his fate for the second time today. He was going to die, and there was not a damn thing he could do about it.

  Relaxed, he raised the shotgun and rested it on the edge of the metal bin. He kept shaking his head in small fits to keep from passing out. He sighted the gun on the end of the alley, waiting for the first of the raptors to come charging around the corner, knowing that he and the girl would soon be ripped to shreds.

  He’d be sure to save one shell. He had to save one. The girl was so close. He was not going to let her know what it felt like to be eaten alive.

  -33-

  BYE BYE

  JESSE HEARD A raptor screech in the distance, and then another. The sounds reverberated off the many buildings surrounding him, mixed with a clap of thunder, and came rolling up the alleyway with a vengeance. He readjusted his grip on the shotgun, wrenched it in his hands, and blew at a strand of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes.

  Then he waited for them to come.

  The girl touched him lightly on the small of his back. Through the link, he could feel her reassurance. His own nerves were stretched as taut as highly tensioned piano wire and the world around him kept going in and out of focus. He was going to pass out soon.

  But as he continued to wait, nothing came. Not a single one of the pursuing raptors entered the alleyway. His foot slipped and he crashed down from his squatting position onto his knee. The gun barrel dropped. It was too heavy to hold up any longer.

  Where were they?

  From the diminishing sounds, it seemed they were all moving off in a different direction, going away from him.

  How was that pos—?

  One of the fleeing raptors let out a shrill note. He heard a distant answer. He knew that cry all too well. A pack leader was in danger of being killed. The other raptors were responding to that call and coming to save it.

  Why?

  He rose slowly. Nothing. He saw nothing. The sound of the back and forth calls continued to shrink away. The girl looked at him and he looked at her. She had that same blank stare, but he could see faint traces of puzzlement on her face. Perhaps it was a reflection of how he felt.

  He checked his shotgun and tried to pump it, but he was too weak to do so. He turned to the girl. “Can you—?”

  She got up and jogged away.

  “Hey!” he said.

  Everything hurt, but he pushed himself to his feet and stumbled after her. “Hey,” he said again. It did no good. She was getting farther away.

  A bolt of lightning flashed, startling him, and a short time later fat droplets began to fall from above. They landed, spattering viciously on the pavement all around him. Then the skies opened up, and the sound of the falling rain roared like a freight train, blocking out all other noises. In a matter of seconds, he was thoroughly soaked. Still, through the thick rain, he spotted the girl as she fled past a windowless storefront.

  He thought about giving up. He was weak, too weak to continue chasing her. He knew he should run away and hide. He needed to recover. But he needed to catch her first, make her listen. He continued to follow, going down one street and left onto another. He came out onto one of the main streets and halted next to the hulk of a rusting Chevy Tahoe.

  The rain pinged heavily on the car’s roof and beat down on him, running off his head and streaming from his beard. The raptors ahead on the streets ignored the rain. They were concentrating on something else.

  In the middle of the street, a solitary man with a sword stood in defiance of an entire pack. They had him surrounded. There were over a dozen raptors of different sizes, some small like turkeys and some larger than a man. The guy in their midst showed no outward signs of fear.

  Who was he? Old habits kicked in. Jesse sized the strange guy up quickly. Medium build, about five-ten, one-sixty, dark skin, maybe black, maybe some Asian. Even from a distance, he could see that the guy’s right ankle was wrapped in a muddy-brown cloth, and he seemed to favor the other. Broken? Sprained?

  The corpses of dead raptors lay around the guy. His movements were fluid, precise, almost economical, but he was hobbled by his injury. He wore an ankle-length jacket that waved out behind him as he turned, following his flowing movements.

  Before Jesse could blink again, a raptor charged the man. The guy quickly dispatched it with a quick cut.

  Who the hell was that guy?

  Jesse saw movement elsewhere. A woman had just walked past a pillar in front of a clothing store. She was keeping her back against the column and using it for protection. She held a long stick, which looked like a spear, but she was not using it as one. She was resting on it, instead. She was slightly shorter than the man was, longish brown or blonde hair, wearing a khaki-shirt, slender in build. Seeing her reminded him a little of Cheryl, and that alone felt like a punch in the gut. These two weren’t a threat to him, not from a distance. But it looked like they did not need his help.

  Good, because he was pretty useless right now.

  In an almost impossibly short time, the stranger ripped through a good portion of the pack, leaving pieces of flesh in a growing pile at his feet. The raptors did not seem to know how to respond to the man, other than to run into his whirling blade and die. A few were smarter and came after the woman, but she kept using the pillar and her spear to keep the raptors at a distance while the guy chopped into them from behind.

  When only two raptors were left, one large, one small, the final pair ran off, leaping over a pile of broken concrete, and vanishing into the pounding grayness of the falling rain.

  Jesse pointed his shotgun at the fleeing raptors, knowing they were too far away, but the reaction was instinctive. He spotted the girl standing on a curb and watching the raptors flee. He let his gun fall to his side and made his way to her. She watched him approach and turned toward the man in black and the woman who was also approaching.

  All four of them met on the sidewalk. Jesse kept his gun ready, while the man in black and the woman both remained wary and had their weapons raised. Rain ran freely off the man in black. He shook his head and sent droplets flying out in all directions. The man then moved his sword in a precise arc in front of his face and gave a slight bow. Although Jesse was ready to declare the two newcomers as not being hostile, he wasn’t quite sure they were doing the same with him. So far, the two did not appear to have bad intentions, but he also realized he was probably not thinking clearly. He lowered his shotgun slowly until it rested at his side. He motioned for the girl to join him.

  The man with the sword nodded, wiped his blade off, and sheathed it.

  Shifting the shotgun into his left hand, Jesse struggled under the weight of the gun, but refused to show it. He stuck out his right hand.

  “Jesse,” he said.

  The man in black slowly reached out and shook hands. “Cory.”

  Jesse was growing dizzier by the second. He could barely hold the gun.

  The woman with the spear approached. “Eve,” she said. “Who’s this?” she asked, nodding to the girl.

  Jesse stopped to take a breath. “Not sure I can tell you just yet.”

  The rain continued to beat down. It was occasionally interrupted by intermittent claps of thunder that echoed loudly within the narrow canyon of buildings.<
br />
  Cory stared blankly at the girl, as if considering something. “We are headed south. What is the fastest way through the city?”

  “I could tell you,” Jesse said, “but—”

  The young girl made an odd sound, cutting him off. She was pointing down the street. Jesse turned to see where. A single raptor was running straight at her. It was only a few feet away.

  Both Cory and Jesse reacted without hesitation. Jesse brought up his shotgun and fired instinctively. The shot ripped into the raptor, but the thing’s continuing momentum drove it forward. Eve grabbed the girl by the arm and pulled her out of harm’s way. Cory drew, whirled, and plunged his sword into the raptor’s body cavity. It squealed, reaching out with both its clawed arms for the blade. Then it died.

  Cory withdrew the blood-covered blade and held it sideways, letting the rain wash it clean.

  “We’d better get off the streets,” Jesse said, blinking away rain. “We can—”

  Cory interrupted. “We are headed south,” he said with a hint of formal coldness in his voice. “What is the fastest way through the city?”

  Something about them had made Jesse want to trust them. Maybe it was because they were the first people he had seen in months. Maybe it was a gut feeling. Maybe something else. However, he wasn’t sure if exhaustion was affecting his judgment. He had considered taking them back to his shelter, but now, he was not liking the guy’s attitude. Perhaps it made more sense to send them on their way.

  He pointed with the shotgun. “If you follow this street and keep going for two blocks, then turn when you—”

  Every hair on Jesse’s body rose in response to a new threat. From far away down the street, coming around the buildings, merging like a series of streams forming into a river, came a large mass of raptors. Hundreds of them. More than Jesse had seen gathered in one place in all of his years in the city. Icy tendrils of panic raced through his pain-tormented body, shocking him, screaming at him to drop everything and run. He was probably down to a single remaining shotgun shell, and even if this new guy could take out an entire pack singlehandedly, he was sure that there was no way either of them could handle a group this large.