The doctor appeared in front of them, gloved hands covered in fresh blood. There was fear in his eyes. “They’re turning too fast. We have to quarantine them.”
An older man with a fresh carpet of new hair on his previously bald head, and big teeth, lunged at Dennis, who for a big man, moved surprisingly fast to get out of the way. Dixon tackled the beast-man with his chest, biting his face and neck, and then picked him up in his massive jaws, shaking him like a rag doll until Eve heard his neck snap loudly. Eve pulled him off and Candy shot him in the head from point-blank range.
“It’s too late,” Candy said.
They ducked into the examination room to collect Brit, now on a rolling gurney. The nurse, who had been watching him, was nowhere to be found. They hardly noticed Needles at the glass. Each door they badged through with Thompson’s badge around Candy’s neck closed and locked behind them as soon as they passed through. Dennis led them deeper into the facility, right, left, right, right. Finally, they came to a large open area with darkened neon signs.
“A lunchroom?” Candy said.
The doctor went straight to the sink, where he removed his bloody gloves and began washing his hands with soap and water.
“It’s perfect. Food, water, there’s a bathroom over there. We’ll be safe here, I think.” Dennis grabbed a metal gate, pulling it across an open entrance area and padlocked it shut. “Who wants a cheeseburger?”
“How can you eat at a time like this?” Eve said.
“I have to go back in there. I have to do what I can,” The doctor said moving toward the padlocked gate.
“No one’s going in or out of that door before morning. If even one of those things gets in here, we’re all dead. You saw how fast they are,” Dennis said.
“He’s right,” Candy said. “If we go back out there, we’re dead.”
“The dog’s been scratched,” Dennis peered at the large, bloody gash on Dixon’s neck from a safe distance. “If this dog turns, we’re all dead. I’m afraid we’re going to have to put him down.”
“No!” Eve cried.
“It’s extremely unlikely the dog will turn, even if he’s bitten. No doubt, he’s naturally immune. These diseases rarely cross species. For instance, the Asian Bird Flu crossed from birds to humans, extremely rare, and therefore, extremely deadly. AIDS, they believe, was originally passed from monkeys in Africa, and then jumped species to humans. We all know how deadly that is. There’s still no cure.” The doctor came and put a hand on Eve’s shoulder to calm her. Dixon looked suspiciously from one to the other. He was clearly aware they were talking about him. “I don’t believe this ravening virus has crossed species. It seems only to affect humans. And I suspect that, as with any disease, there’s a certain percentage of the human population who is also naturally immune. That percentage may be very low, but there are almost certainly people among us here at the power plant who carry this immunity. They hold the key to curing this outbreak…”
“Yes, yes, fascinating doctor,” Dennis challenged sarcastically. “But how can you know for sure? I don’t want that dog changing into one of those things in the middle of the night and killing us all.”
“I can assure you that he won’t.”
Dennis looked unconvinced.
“We’ll tie his leash to the table by the door.”
“That dog could smash that table like a toothpick.”
“Help me to clean the wound,” Candy leaned over Dixon. “Sven loves this dog more than you know.”
CHAPTER 11: October 15, 7 p.m.
It was a jailbreak scene in reverse.
Throngs of people were pressed against the fence and dozens were climbing the fence topped with razor wire in an effort to get away from what was behind.
But the worst part was the screaming. It sounded like hundreds of women of all ages were simultaneously screaming and wailing at a pitch sufficient to shatter glass. Beneath that were the throatier, anguished cries of men and boys. Behind the mass of people pressing the fence and gates was a much larger, darker mass. Sven thought that he could see dark masses swirling behind them like the demons of hell. Ever since meeting Warren and the flagellates, Sven had been seeing things like dark shapes moving among the people and the beasts. It was like the people and the beasts were merely puppets to be manipulated by these dark shadow-things hovering around them, attaching to them, and racing through them.
“Shoot the climbers!” Zeb shouted.
They opened fire on the shapes climbing the fence. Two fell screaming into the writhing masses of panicked survivors beneath. Another climber paused, pulled a pistol from his pocket, and began shooting back. Two more men beneath the climber began shooting at Jackie and the others.
“They’re shooting back!” Bubba, Zeb’s son, went down with a strike to the thigh. Zeb and his sons targeted the shooter and anyone in the general area of fire. Mack and Tiny carried Bubba like a battering ram through the crowds behind to the medical unit and returned moments later to the battle.
“They’re alive! Don’t shoot them,” Sven shouted, running for the gate. “Open the gate! Open the gate!”
When the gate opened, it was like Black Friday at Walmart. The people flooded through wild-eyed, others hoarse from shouting and screaming. Tears of relief streamed down many faces.
“The infected…they’re coming…” Behind the survivors was a gigantic dark amoebic mass of ravening infected, feeding on the survivors, pushing them forward toward the gates of the power plant.
“Close the gate!” Jackie shouted, and Sven, Zeb, Mack and Tiny ran to muscle the gate closed against the ebbing stream of humanity.
It took a few minutes and five strong men to close the main gate, and still the survivors streamed through the pedestrian gate.
CHAPTER 12: October 15, 7:15 p.m.
Those survivors left outside the gate clamored to be let in, and others immediately began climbing the twelve-foot fence. The pedestrian gate was opened to allow a constant stream of survivors to tumble through just ahead of the ravening hordes.
Just beyond the fence and entrance gate lights, Sven could see what appeared to be a solid mass of beasts moving toward them. He had never seen so many of anything in one place before. He had seen the buffalo once on the plains of Yellowstone. Thousands of them moved as one. The sound of their hoofs shook the very earth beneath like an earthquake. Awesome. This was more like ants or wolves. They were terrifying with their glowing, red, unearthly eyes, fierce teeth and mane of hair over skeletal bodies. “Hair like women. Teeth like lions. They move as locusts consuming all before them.” Sven remembered the words of the flagellates. Could these things be the judgment of God? The smell of death was overpowering as they approached. Tiny doubled over, vomiting, then Mack. Sven stepped away slightly to avoid losing his dinner.
“You’ll get used to it,” Jeb said.
“Men to the front!” Jackie ordered to the men in the rear protecting their families. “All men to the front! Line up along the fence.” Mostly, they followed the order. The younger men tended to stand closest to the fence, eager to fight, with the older men and families closer to the rear.
The first beasts jumped in among the survivors scrambling to get through the gate. It was terrifying to see them ripped to shreds. The first volleys through the fence were panicked over reactions that ripped indiscriminately through beasts and survivors alike.
“Aim for the head! Body shots don’t stop them!” Jackie ordered.
Sven felt courage when he saw so many standing with them. There must have been at least five hundred men with him at the gate. All of them were armed with something. The majority had a pistol or rifle. Those who didn’t had at least a machete or a club. They held the strong position. They should be able to fight off the horde.
More survivors streamed through the gate, but the beasts were viciously attacking all. A woman with three young children entered with a toddler on her hip. Two young girls entered, clinging to each other wild-eyed. Men sheph
erded their families in front of them. Single men tried not to appear terrified. The women and children pressed to the back, and most of the men returned to join in the fight.
“Close the gate!” Jackie and Sven ran to bar the pedestrian gate, to prevent any more entering. Those remaining outside wailed hopelessly and gnashed their teeth, pleading, ”Let us in.”
“Head shots only! Fire! Fire!” Jackie ordered.
At first, it seemed they were winning. The beasts were going down in droves. The survivors stood along the fence and just picked them off. Often, they would get two for the price of one bullet. Even three downed with one bullet a few times, the beasts were so thick. In death, again, the beasts looked pitiful: skeletons with gigantic suppurating sores, frequently bones were broken, or joints hanging by a single ligament. He didn’t understand how they could move, much less jump, and lunge with such great speed. But most disturbing were the twisted second death masks of agony. The beasts were in so much pain.
“Need ammo! I’m out!” Cries began coming from the defenders inside the fence. Quickly another defender would re-supply them from their own stash.
“Conserve your ammo! Head shots only!” Jackie ordered again. The order moved down the line.
The dead beasts were stacking like cord wood along the fence. Yet behind, Sven could see an unbroken mass, relentlessly moving toward them. There must have been several hundred thousand of them. They continued firing through the fence.
“I’m out!” Sven cried above the din. Jackie re-supplied him with fifty rounds for his Glock. Zeb gave him another two hundred rounds. Jackie and Sven, Zeb, Mack and Tiny - Zeb’s son’s - fought together as a unit. Sven was determined to save his ammunition. This was only the first night and the first skirmish. How many more would there be?
Soon the beasts and dead and dying survivors piled as high as the twelve-foot fence in places, yet still they came straight at them, for the most part. The beasts focused their efforts in these spots, although they were so numerous that they attacked on all fronts simultaneously.
“They’re trying to break through!” Zeb’s son, Mack rushed toward the fence where the beasts were piling nearly as high as the fence. Zeb and Tiny followed immediately, fighting as a unit. Jackie and Sven were close behind. The beasts came charging straight at the pile and climbed as fast as they could, before being repeatedly shot by the defenders. The bodies just piled higher and higher. Then, one of the beasts ascended the top of the pile, holding a dying and bleeding human out in front of it like a shield. Sven tried to shoot around the human. Two more beasts copied the idea. Then, in one giant leap, they were across the fence.
“Shoot them!” Sven yelled, shooting the beasts even as the shots ripped through the dying humans. As soon as the beasts were across the fence, some dropped the humans and charged. Others swung the dying humans like clubs in one claw and slashed and bit with the other.
The first beast over the mountain of bodies killed and injured fifteen or more defenders in a few seconds before being brought down in a hail of gunfire. It was naked and skeletal, with big hair and wild, red eyes. It moved like lightning, slashing with its claws and biting. Two more were stopped at the top of the dog pile of bodies, but in mere seconds more and more beasts came pouring through the gap in their defenses. Before they had time to react or regroup, the beasts were among them slashing and biting. They were everywhere and nowhere at once.
Sven felt the confidence and esprit de corps evaporate among the men, replaced by panic. An equal number of defenders were shot by friendly fire attempting to hit the beasts among them, in those few seconds, than were savaged by the beasts themselves.
“Retreat!” Sven heard Jackie scream. At the time, Sven was at the fence with Tiny and Mack, trying in vain to stop the flood of beasts over the beast dog-pile. Jackie and Zeb were fighting together. They had switched to using machetes and improvised shields to conserve ammo.
The five of them sprinted to the control tower. As they arrived at the door, Sven turned to see another fifty beasts coming over the fence. It was an overwhelming flood. Behind them were an unstoppable army of thousands more. On the grounds, outside the fence and inside, were uncountable newly-infected dead. They were drunkenly rising from the dog pile to reanimate. The infected had red eyes, gigantic suppurating sores that would pop and eat away the flesh underneath in big chasms. In a few hours, they would transform into the beasts with the mane of hair, the wicked strong nails, and the big, canine teeth. They rose in whatever condition they died. One was missing half of his face. Another had his arm nearly torn off. Others had only bites and scratches.
The steel door slammed shut behind them and it was suddenly quiet. The moans and the screams and the gunshots were now muted. It was as if Sven had found the volume switch on the stereo and turned it down. And the smell, that awful smell, was muted.
Sven ran up the circular stairs two at a time and flung open the steel door at the top. There was no one there. “Candy? Dixon? Where is Eve?”
“They went with the doctor to Medical.”
“I have to go get them.”
“You can’t go back out there. You won’t make it five steps.”
Sven plowed forward, but Jackie caught him and stopped him. “They’re safe. They’re with the doctor. He’s smart. He’ll know what to do.”
“They’re in God’s hands now, son,” Jeb said.
CHAPTER 13: October 15, 7 p.m.
“Thompson!” Thompson was outside chuckling to himself when he heard his name called. Getting away from his captors had been child’s play. They were such amateurs. He just held the door open for them all to pass through ahead of him like a gentleman should, then turned and walked the other way. He watched through the glass for a moment. No one even noticed his absence. “Thompson!” Thompson turned his head this way and that, looking for the source of the voice.
“It’s me, Rusty.” Red-headed Rusty stepped out of the shadows along the wall a few feet away, wearing his guard uniform. One time Thompson had stood beside Rusty at a gas station in town, and he hadn’t recognized him without his uniform. “Are you bit or scratched?”
Thompson shook his head. “You?”
“Let me see your eyes,” Rusty said, as he approached him warily. After staring into Thompson’s eyes for a moment and shining a small flashlight back and forth over them, he seemed satisfied. “Okay,” he said.
“They took my weapons. Lend me your Glock.” Thompson tried not to look too longingly at the holstered weapon at Rusty’s side. Rusty held an M-16 in his hands.
Thompson was surprised when Rusty handed over the Glock without argument. “We need to get to the guard tower. There’s more weapons and ammo in there. Follow me.”
Rusty led Thompson around the corner of the building where two more guards were huddled in the shadows. On the other side raged a pitched battle. The defenders were lined up along the fence, shooting the beasts like fish in a barrel as they charged. The dead-again beasts were piling up along the fence in some sections nearly to the top of the twelve foot fence. The beasts advanced in wave after endless wave, and the defenders kept shooting them. Thompson shook his head, wondering if those things even had brains.
“We don’t have much time. We have to get to the guard tower. It’s the safest place if they breach the fence. There’s weapons and food in there. As a last resort, we can lock ourselves in the holding cells.” Rusty slapped Thompson on the shoulder and ran ahead of them. “Come on!”
Thompson felt a surge of elation in finding a band of his fellow guards. The gods were smiling upon him. Then it happened. The first of the beasts scaled the bodies of its fallen comrades along the fence, then did a spectacular leap over the fence. Suddenly, it was among the defenders slashing and biting. It bit and slashed five to ten defenders in mere seconds. Thompson paused from running to aim his Glock carefully with both hands. He took it down with the second shot. “Got it.”
“Run!” Rusty screamed. Instantly, there were five
more beasts over the fence. Then ten, then twenty! Thompson ran headlong toward the guardhouse. He was dead last of the four guards. If only he had eaten less and taken his physical training more seriously. Thompson tripped over something and pitched onto his chest in the dirt. It was a body, and it seemed to stir slightly. There was no time. He got up and sprinted forward, struggling to catch up. The other three were now further ahead. The beasts were everywhere. Thompson heard shouts of “Retreat!” and the defenders were scattering like rats from a burning ship.
The beast came screaming in from the side, leaped, and bit a giant gash out of the arm of one of the guards in front. The other two shot it repeatedly. “I’m okay. I think, I’m okay,” the bitten guard said as blood gushed from the arm wound, soaking his jacket.
They sprinted the last few yards to the door. Rusty stopped and turned in the door, blocking it with his body. “Sorry man. You’ve been bit. You’re infected.”
“I’m fine, Rusty! Really, it’s just a scratch.” The guard’s face fell and he began pleading.
“Let me see,” Rusty said, leaning in. Then, without warning, he pulled the trigger, shooting the guard in the face with the Glock concealed in his other hand. The guard flopped onto his back with half his face gone, and jerked spasmodically on the ground in the final throes of death. Thompson caught up to them. He was out of breath. Rusty took the dead guard’s M-16 assault rifle and bandolier of ammo and handed them to Thompson. “You get bit, you become one of them.”
In mere minutes, the area that had been held so effectively by the defenders was nearly overrun with beasts. It was now a killing field. Ten beasts cornered five defenders against the wall, who were frantically looking for a way out. Thompson reached for the electronic badge at his hip, but it wasn’t there. That woman, Candy, was wearing it around her neck. Shit!
TAGGED: THE APOCALYPSE Page 7
