by Sam Sisavath
Jolly exchanged a look with Peters and Bart, then Donald, before speaking up. “Beats sitting around with our balls in our hands waiting for that blue-eyed fuck to bust his way in here.”
“That’s if they get in,” Donald said.
“Danny told me a story about how one of them broke down a bank wall with a car. Got its black-eyed misfits to pick it up and throw it right into the lobby.”
“Are you fucking shitting me?” Bart asked.
“Swear to God,” Jolly said. “They’re different when the blue eyes are around. Like night and day.”
“Maybe Danny was pulling your leg,” Donald said. “He’s been known to do that, you know.”
Jolly shook his head. “He was dead serious.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” Jolly said, before grinning across the room at Keo. “But what does your horse say about this plan of yours?”
“He knows the score,” Keo said. “He knows what’s at stake.”
“He told you that?”
“Of course he did. What, you think I’m making all this up?”
Horse snorted in Jolly’s direction.
“Whoa, did it just…?” Bart said.
“That’s a warning,” Keo said. “You only get one warning.”
“A regular fucking horse whisperer, this guy,” Jolly said.
“Hell, better you than me, man,” Donald said, looking across at Keo.
Keo smirked back at him. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Donald.”
“Anytime.”
“I guess I’m not going to talk you out of this,” Peters said.
“You know I’m right,” Keo said. “You’ve walked through this church how many times now? If Blue Eyes wants in, it’ll get in, and these walls won’t stop it. Hell, it might decide to come in through the roof. Take your pick. It didn’t bring along all those friends outside for a group picture.”
“And you’re willing to do this…alone?”
“I came up with the plan alone, didn’t I?”
Peters sighed. “Fuck all.”
Jolly grinned. “Yeah, that about sums it up, boss.”
And just like that, no one said another word.
Peters joined Jolly at his window and peered out silently, while Bart went back to trying to reach someone on the radio. Donald sat next to him and checked his rifle for the fifth time in as many minutes.
Gaby walked over to Keo and Horse near the back of the building. The thoroughbred shuffled its legs as Keo whispered something into its floppy ear. The animal looked clearly agitated.
“How’s he doing?” she asked.
Keo glanced over. “He understands what’s out there. He’s been around those things longer than we have. And he’s still here.”
“He’s a tough one.”
“More than tough. I don’t call him Horse for nothing, you know.”
She managed a smile. “I thought you called him Horse because he’s a horse.”
“Well, yeah, that too.” Then, looking as serious as he had all night, “I need you to do me a favor.”
“Anything.”
“Whatever happens, I need you to get Emma out of Fenton.”
If we survive this, you mean, she thought, but nodded instead and said, “What’s her last name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does she have a last name?”
“Stands to reason she would. Who doesn’t?”
“But you don’t know what it is.”
“It never occurred to me to ask. Besides, do you know my last name?”
“Uh, no.”
“There you go.”
Gaby nodded again. “Okay. I’ll do what I can to find her and get her out of there. But it would be easier if you lent a hand.”
He grinned. “Yeah. I’m sure it would be.” Then, serious again, “I’ve been thinking about what you said, and you were right.”
“I’m usually right about a lot of things, so you’ll have to narrow it down.”
“When you said rescuing Emma would be easier with Black Tide instead of on my own, considering the manpower they have in Fenton.”
“You just figured that out now?”
“What can I say? I’m a slow learner.”
“Yeah, well, what matters is that you finally realized how much smarter I am than you.”
“Don’t rub it in, kid.”
“You have any other messages for anyone else?”
Keo didn’t say anything right away, even though she was certain he knew exactly who she was referring to, even if Gaby didn’t say the name out loud.
“Tell her I did my best,” he said finally.
“Your best, how?”
“She’ll understand.”
Gaby nodded. “I’ll tell her that.”
They both glanced over at Peters as he walked over to them. “All right, boys, if the man wants to commit suicide, then the Christian thing to do is lend him a helping hand.”
“Captain fucking Optimism, this guy,” Keo said, smirking at Gaby while jerking a thumb in Peters’s direction.
The smile came easily to her lips this time. “Yeah. He’s a regular Danny, all right.”
When you broke it all down, it was a simple enough plan, and all they had to do was not die before, during, and after.
Easier said than done, Gaby thought, watching Keo as he climbed into Horse’s saddle. The thoroughbred let out a loud snort before starting to shuffle its feet back and forth. Keo leaned down and rubbed the horse’s mane to calm it down. He had been doing that all night, and it seemed to be working. Mostly. “Easy, boy. Easy…”
Horse stopped moving, but it continued to sniff the cold air around them, brown eyes zeroing on the back wall of the church. She could see the fear in the animal’s eyes as it moved backward under Keo’s guidance, a nearby glow stick on the floor illuminating man and animal in a surreal glow.
Keo nodded at her, and Gaby turned and relayed the confirmation to Jolly.
The big man was crouched on top of the stage at the back of the church, and he stood up from where he had been working for the last ten or so minutes. He retraced his steps away from the wall, a yellow detonator cord unspooling in front of him.
She looked back at Keo. He had almost backed Horse all the way to the twin front doors. The way they moved together, stood together, and now, waited together, she had a difficult time believing they’d only met a few days ago.
Keo and a horse. Danny’s going to get a real kick out of this one.
The animal snorted and sniffed the air again before letting out a loud whinny.
“What did it just say?” Bart asked from his crouching position behind one of the pews.
“It’s a fucking horse, man,” Jolly said as he settled down next to Bart.
“So?” Bart glanced back at Keo. “What did it say?”
“It said, ‘Don’t fuck it up,’” Keo said.
“Told you,” Jolly said.
“Sounds about right to me,” Bart said.
“Remind me to avoid any team you’re on in the future.”
“But I’m such great company.”
Jolly snickered.
Gaby exchanged a brief grin with Keo as he slowly lowered himself to the floor, taking Horse with him until the thoroughbred was almost lying flat on its side. Keo caressed the horse’s belly to steady it, but that had a limited effect, because Horse’s breathing seemed to increase noticeably.
It’s scared. I guess it really does know what’s out there.
She looked across the room at Peters, standing just slightly inside the open office door to the right of the stage. Donald was with him, with Carter somewhere in the back of the room, oblivious to what was about to happen.
Peters caught her glance, and they exchanged a nod. The team leader held up his hand with five fingers extended, and said, “Jolly…”
“Count it down, boss,” Jolly said.
Peters lowered one finger.
One…
Gaby glanced back at Keo. He smiled at her, but she could tell it was a façade, because he didn’t look nearly as committed as he had been a few minutes ago. Except for Horse’s increasing breathing, the church had become suddenly, deathly quiet.
Two…
Bart readied the oblong objects he was gripping in both hands and wiped at a bead of sweat on his forehead with the back of both palms. Donald, leaning out the back door beside Peters, did the same, while clutching and unclutching his rifle.
Three…
Gaby looked across the aisle at Jolly, holding the detonator in one large hand. It looked like something a child would play with and not a device connected to enough C4 to blow a hole in the back of the church. It had to be the back, because they knew for certain the front was covered with ghouls, but there was some chance there might be fewer of them on this end. It was a small chance, but a chance.
Four…
Gaby sighed and changed up her grip on the grenades she was clutching in both hands. Sweat stung her eyes, but she ignored it, and thought, We’re going to die. We’re all going to die tonight, and I won’t be able to make good on my promise to Keo. Oh, hell, this is such a bad idea. How did I ever let him talk me into supporting it?
On five, Jolly clicked the detonator, and Gaby’s ears were filled with a thunderous, earth-shattering explosion.
Such a bad idea!
The wall in front of her disappeared, along with a big chunk of the stage that pushed against it. Jolly had arranged the explosives to blow outward as much as possible, but the shower of brick and mortar and wood went outside the darkness almost as much as it covered up the stage and floor and air around her.
Gaby thought she heard screaming, but maybe she was just imagining it, because her ears were ringing as she stood up and darted into the aisle and ran forward toward the clouds of smoke and pulverized materials that had seized the back part of the church. Explosive residue stung her eyes and invaded her nostrils, and she struggled to find her footing against the carpet of brick and wood that blanketed the floor.
Bart appeared in her peripheral vision as he jumped onto what was left of the stage, slowing down only to crank his right arm back, like a Major League pitcher on the mound. He tossed one, then the other grenade through the gaping hole in front of them, and for an instant Gaby was afraid one of his frags would hit a falling piece of brick and ricochet back at him (and her) like something out of a bad sketch comedy.
But no—Bart’s throws were true, and the oblong shapes pierced the gathering clouds and disappeared out of sight.
She counted one second, two—and never got to three before the first grenade detonated, ripping across the backyard of the church. Screams invaded the ringing in her ears as the fragments tore through, sliced apart, and shredded the creatures that were gathered outside. Pulverized bone and rendered flesh appeared in the explosive flash, just before the second grenade followed suit and erased more ghouls in its vicinity.
Gaby ran past Bart and flung one, then the other grenade through the opening. She glimpsed ghouls—pruned black flesh, domed heads shining under the moonlight, and dark black eyes like pits of tar—squirming around when her first grenade exploded, followed quickly by the second one.
Despite the heavy thrumming in her ears, she still heard the ploompt! from her right side. Jolly, on the stage next to her with his M4, sending grenade rounds from his launcher through the gaping hole and out into the night. Another explosion, followed by more hellacious rounds of screams as the creatures took the brunt of the blast.
But they’re not going to die. You can’t kill what’s already dead!
Another 40mm grenade round punched into the darkness and detonated, because by now Donald was also there with his own M203 on the other side of her. To her right, Jolly fed a new round into his weapon, and seconds later, sent another one outside—ploompt!—even as Donald reloaded. They worked wordlessly, efficiently, taking turns reloading and firing, like they had been doing it all their lives.
Chilly night air swamped the room almost immediately as soon as the wall gave way, and it got suddenly much, much colder as she groped for her AR with numbed fingers. God, what was wrong with her hands? She struggled to get a good grip on the rifle—
A flash of movement as something big and tall, and brown and furry, raced past her, appearing in the corner of her left eye—nearly running Donald over. He might have screamed as he stepped out of the way at the last second.
Keo, leaning forward in Horse’s saddle, making a beeline for the jagged opening in front of them. He held onto Horse’s reins with one hand while clutching the MP5SD with the other. In the brief heartbeat that he was there, flying past her and Donald, Keo glanced over and they locked eyes, and she swore he smiled at her.
You crazy bastard.
Then he and Horse were gone, almost as if the waiting darkness outside had simply opened its arms and taken them into its embrace.
A hand grabbed her at the elbow, while a voice shouted, “Come on! Gaby, come on!”
Peters, behind her, pulling her off the stage because she was frozen in place like a statue.
What is wrong with you? Move, goddammit, move your ass!
She stumbled backward while struggling to maintain her grip on the rifle when she saw it.
Blue eyes.
They were pinpricks in the vast nothingness outside, and she shouldn’t have been able to see them at all, except they were glowing and were impossible to miss in the middle of so much overwhelming blackness.
It stood on the edge of the rooftop, on a building across the street from the church, its freakishly elongated shape outlined by the moon in the background. It looked so unnatural in that moment, and at the same time so…human.
Except it wasn’t human. It might have been at one point, but that time was long gone.
It’s not working, Keo. It’s still here.
It’s not following you!
But then the creature turned, its blue eyes seemingly blinking out of existence, followed quickly by its shadowed form.
Then it was gone, fading into the inky darkness as if it was never there.
Did it work? Did Keo’s plan just work?
She didn’t know if she wanted it to work or not. Because if it worked, that meant the creature was pursuing Keo. Her friend. He was out there right now, alone, trying to take the blue eyes with him and away from the church, so they could have a chance to survive the night.
It’s working, Keo…
Panic and guilt rooted her to the edge of the stage even as the hand that had grabbed her elbow continued to tug persistently at her. She didn’t so much as refuse to move as she didn’t want to look away from the opening, because that would mean abandoning Keo. That would mean leaving him out there, alone…
“Gaby!” Peters. Or Jolly. It could have been either one of them. Or both, shouting in unison. “Come on! Stick to the plan! Stick to the fucking plan!”
Keo’s plan. Keo’s stupid, suicidal plan.
Did it work? Is it following you, Keo?
God help me, but I hope it is.
God help me…
“Gaby! He’s gone! Gaby, get with the program!”
It wasn’t the voice behind her that finally got her moving; it was what was happening in front of her. It was the thing she had been waiting for, and for some reason she wasn’t afraid of it. In so many ways, it was almost a welcome relief, a sense of Here we go!
A swarm of ghouls, clacking bones and rotting stink, flooding into the church through the opening at once, and she thought again, Where have they been hiding all these years? Was it the blue-eyed ghoul’s doing? Had it been building this army up for just this moment? So it could hunt us? Like it’s hunting Keo now?
Dull black eyes reflected off the light of the glow sticks spread out across the building, devastated caverns of yellow teeth flashing through seemingly every inch of available space in front of her.
“Gaby!”
She opened fir
e and hit one—two—more with every bullet.
The dead (again) crumpled onto the stage, only to be trampled by another five—ten—twenty ghouls struggling to get inside at the same time.
Then everyone was shooting and moving…
…and shooting and screaming…
…and then just shooting…
Twenty-Eight
“How do you know it’ll follow you if you go out there? How do you know, Keo?”
“It’s hard to explain…”
“Try anyway.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“Try.”
“I can feel it. In my head. It wants me. Not in the get-to-know-you-over-dinner way. If I go, if I lead it away from you, you’ll have a chance against the ones that stay behind.”
“Assuming it chases you.”
“It will.”
“You don’t know that.”
“It will, Gaby.”
“You don’t know that, Keo.”
“I know one thing for certain. If it stays, we’re dead. Nine hours. Eight hours. It doesn’t matter. We can’t reach Black Tide, and no help’s coming. So when that prick comes in, it’ll send everything it has, and we don’t have nearly enough bullets or C4 to hold them back.”
“If it works, if it goes after you… What then? You’ll be by yourself out there.”
“So it’ll be the same shit, different day. Besides, that won’t technically be true. I’ll have Horse.”
“It’s a horse, Keo.”
“Shhh. He might hear you.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Remember your promise.”
“I’ll get her out of there, whatever it takes. Is there anything else you want me to do for you?”
“As a matter of fact, there’s also a little girl I need you to look in on…”
“Pin it, pin it!” Peters screamed as soon as the door slammed into place. There was no deadbolt or lock of any kind, but that didn’t matter when Donald and Bart shoved the heavy dresser they had set nearby over the door. The furniture was big enough to cover the entire width of the room’s only entrance and just tall enough to occupy half of its length.
But it wasn’t enough. One bureau wasn’t going to stop them.
Fortunately, that wasn’t all they had.
