“Sims. Hold up,” Russell whispered. Sims stopped and Russell looked out the window. “Make sure that door is locked!”
Sims did. “What do you see?”
“I saw movement, but just barely.” Russell walked to the window and stood next to an antique coffee machine on an old oak table that butted up next to the wall. The movement he had seen came from over the fence in the neighbor’s yard.
The Nelsons. A dark shadow…no, several dark shadows were moving along the neighbor’s fence line in a low crouch. He saw three shapes through the wooden slabs. Three shapes became six. Then ten.
There was a sudden crash and the report of several windows breaking. The gazebo tent the Nelsons had set up was thrown to the side, tumbling, its legs flying through the air. A few tables were thrown over the fence into Russell’s backyard. Screams and yells echoed to the outside from inside the Nelsons’ house. Several of the guests had run out the back French doors, right into the hands of the mob, and were swallowed up.
More movement was seen in the Nelsons’ house, then Michael Nelson ran through the kitchen into the living room, chased by an older man with blood on his face, hands, and teeth. Michael stopped and turned and tried to throw a punch at his pursuer, but he caught it with his mouth and sunk his teeth into Michael’s arm.
Michael screamed but the sound was drowned out by those who had tried to escape out the back and were being attacked and devoured by the mob.
Bang!
Russell heard what sounded like wood breaking and looked at the shared fence. A lone slab was out of place and was shaking with each reverberating sound.
They were trying to break through.
“Sims! Move!” Russell said, but Sims was already moving and Russell found himself on his heels. “Head outside to the car! I’m getting Kat!” Russell turned toward the stairs and yelled, “Kat! Christina! We need to leave now! Let’s move!” Russell had his gun out, pointed at the floor, with his eyes fixed toward the kitchen.
Sims was covering the front door, gun up ready to fire in case someone or something crashed through. He was stealing glances through the sidelight windows. “I see movement out front! At least ten of those crazies running every which way.”
“Kat! Christina!” Russell started up the stairs, but before he could plant his second step, Kat came running down the stairs, carrying her guitar case, with Christina right on her heels.
Christina looked at Russell and saw what he was thinking. “I’m…I’m fine. Seriously. I just…” she wiped a sleeve across her mouth, chunks of vomit weaving their way into her sleeve, “…I got a little sick. I’m fine, though. I’m ready.”
Russell nodded and headed toward the door, Kat and Christina close behind. He had his gun out and walked to Sims’ right, ready in case someone came through.
Sims opened the door. They were greeted by the sound of violence.
The front door faced the driveway, which was about fifty yards from the main road. People, or what used to be people, were running back and forth in different directions. Russell noticed his recycle bin and trash bin at the end of the driveway were tipped over, garbage and debris littering the road. Several car alarms blared throughout the neighborhood. The Crown Vic was to the left, pulled perpendicular to the driveway near the garage.
He put his finger up to his mouth and mimicked for him to walk out first, followed by Kat and Christina, then Sims to take up the rear.
Sims nodded and said, “Sure. Put the black man in the back.”
Russell didn’t respond. He checked behind him one more time, gun out and at the ready. He noticed Christina losing her color again, with Kat half holding her up.
He half crouched and ran to the Crown Vic and reached the front door. He opened it and motioned for everyone to do the same. Kat and Christina ran to the back door on Russell’s side and Sims took the passenger door. They all opened their doors. Christina started vomiting again, loud and dry heaves instead of vomit. She was turned away from the car, half coughing and half crying.
Christina’s sounds put Russell and Sims on alert. They both stood up and checked the area. Screams, cries, and yells still saturated the air, mixed in with glass breaking and gunfire.
Russell looked down the driveway and saw a horde of people running and shuffling past. Christina let out a cough again and three members of the horde stopped, while the rest moved on. They faced the driveway and turned deadpan looks toward the source of the commotion. There was a large man, a smaller figure with long blonde hair, and an even smaller figure wearing a pair of coveralls.
The larger figure reared up and let out a yell, which caused the two smaller ones to start running down the driveway toward them. Shadows started dancing behind the trees that lined the street in front of Russell’s yard. The shadows turned into zombies which headed down the driveway, coming right at them.
“Ah, shit.” Sims didn’t hesitate. He pulled up the Glock, aimed down the driveway and started firing rounds. The first shot hit the medium-sized figure with blonde hair in the forehead with a wet slapping sound, throwing her head back and dropping her. She was done. Sims’ second shot caught the next nearest subject in the left shoulder, that just threw him back a step, but he resumed running toward them.
“Kat, Christina, go! Backyard!” Russell ran up toward the rear of the vehicle and took his stance next to Sims. He started placing well-timed shots at the group. Three subjects dropped with head shots.
“We need a bigger gun!” Sims yelled.
“Here.” Russell handed Sims his Sig Sauer and said, “Keep them at bay. I’m getting the AR.” Russell fumbled around in his pockets and pulled out the keys. He was shaking. Had to calm down. Had to think.
He took a deep breath and placed the key in the keyhole, opened the trunk, and pulled out the AR-15. He slung it over his shoulder, reached back in and pulled out three loaded magazines. He placed them in his back pockets.
“Go!” Russell reared up and took aim down the driveway, using the red-dot sights. He took several well-placed shots, dropping four more with head shots.
Russell looked back and nodded toward the backyard, motioning Sims to catch up with Kat and Christina. Russell then ran to the backyard, passed through the gate and came up to the deck, turned, and sighted back the way he had come, placing two more careful shots into the heads of what looked like an old man with gray hair and a teenager decked out in black. “Emo,” Kat had once called them.
Sims yelled from the end of the backyard, “Russ, this way, now! We’re cutting through!”
Russell turned and ran through the backyard, while Sims took up position with the Glock. He noticed Kat and Christina already across the street, climbing over the picket fence of a white colonial-style house. He passed Sims and slapped him on the shoulder, signifying that Sims could break, turn and run.
Sims did, and took off at a dead sprint, passing Russell with ease. For a large man, Sims could still move like the college football player he used to be. Sims caught up with Kat and Christina at the beginning of a green belt.
“What’s on the other side? Nothing but trees and underbrush here,” Sims said.
Russell wasn’t sure. While trying to catch his breath, he said, “It’s a greenbelt and I think it leads to West Lake Sammamish Road. Right off Lake Sammamish.”
Christina turned in a full circle and called out, “I think there’s one more street, then it’s Lake Sammamish Road. Nothing but mansions and big yards next to the lake. One of them has to have a boat. We could take a boat.”
Russell looked at Sims, who nodded, then Russell said, “That’s a good idea, Christina. Beats walking nowhere. Okay, here’s the thing…” Russell took a quick look around, didn’t see or hear anything and continued, “…Those zombie people are everywhere and can be here any second. We’re gonna have to move through this greenbelt. I’ll take the lead. Kat, Christina, I want you both to follow me in the exact, and I mean exact footsteps I take. No need to make more noise than we have to.
” Russell looked at Sims and continued, “Sims, you take up the rear.”
Sims nodded and handed Russell his Sig Sauer. Russell shook his head and said, “Keep it. I have the rifle.” He started to walk, then looked back to Sims. “How many rounds do we have in the pistols?”
“I’ve fired two from mine, and however many you fired from the Sig. I have two spare mags. That’s around forty rounds for me. Did you bring spare mags for the Sig?” Russell shook his head. “Then about ten or so from the Sig. I guess, what, around fifty or so?”
“I’ve got three spare thirty-round mags.” Russell nodded his head back and forth a bit in thought. “Well, whatever. It’s going to have to do. Hopefully we’ll come up on something somewhere. Let’s move.”
Russell let the AR hang off the sling and started walking through the greenbelt with Kat then Christina following him, with Sims bringing up the rear. It was August and hadn’t rained for over two months, which, in Washington State, meant everything was dry, but still pretty green. The sounds of footfalls on dry branches and leaves couldn’t be masked, regardless of how fast they walked. Russell took the path of least resistance and zigzagged his way through the least dense areas. After twenty minutes of walking, they came up to a clearing that led to a road.
Directly across stood a three-story modern industrial-looking house. Russell pulled up about ten feet from the road and held his fist up, signaling the others to stop what they were doing. It didn’t work. Kat walked right into her dad with a “humph” sound.
“What the hell, Dad?” Kat regained her footing and stood with her hands on her hips and her head tilted.
“Sorry. When I hold my hand up like this,” he held a fist in the air, “it means to stop. Sorry, forgot you weren’t a ranger.”
“I’m not. I’m your daughter.”
“Which is harder than being a ranger,” Sims said.
The lights were off at this house as well. The entire area, except for a few street lights, was out, as far as Russell could tell.
He said, “I think our best bet is what Christina suggested. Let’s find a boat. We’ll be safer out in the water and we might be able to get a view of what’s going on.”
“Well, whatever we do, let’s make it fast,” Sims said, while pointing north up the road.
Russell looked where Sims was pointing. That familiar sound of bees was approaching. In the distance, a series of dark shadows was moving in their direction down Lake Sammamish Road, several hundred yards away.
They all looked at each other and ran across the street. Russell took the lead with Kat, Christina and Sims trailing behind, hoping to hell one of the houses had a boat. If not, it was a dead end and they’d be trapped.
Chapter 18
John joined Morgan, Frankie, and Helen in the Wells’ dining room. While they were sitting around the large oak antique dinner table, John made the proper introductions for their new guests.
Helen had ushered them in and had them sit down. She had put a large pot of boiling water on the stove and set a silver serving tray on the table with matching silver tea carafe and china cups. Everyone took a cup and helped themselves to some Earl Grey.
Except for Morgan.
He was up and pacing around. “So, Hetebro, you mind telling me what this is all about? And before you answer, know that, one…I’m happy you made it back, and two…don’t ever do that to me again.”
John nodded. He explained what he had seen, leaving out the reason he and Morgan were there and why he was across the street. He started with the conversation he had had with Linda, may she rest in peace, her odd feelings and the fear in her face that she was trying to hide from John. He included his fight across the street, almost getting attacked, the breezeway bridge collapsing and him just barely getting back into the park after having to shoot several people. He included the unhuman nature of people and the rage he saw up close.
He finished off with his escape from the street into the park, having to shoot more infected people than he could count, his attempt to save Linda’s life, and getting the luck of the draw with Boogie and Cindy saving him at the right time.
He left out the fact that the maelstrom had been caused by malicious men wearing dark gray camouflage and the description of the red-headed guy with the mutton chops. Not because he didn’t trust everyone there, but because he didn’t know what the hell was going on.
Everyone sat still, hands wrapped around their cups, their eyes staring into the warm brown liquid. Nobody spoke for several seconds.
“Poor Linda. She didn’t deserve this, man,” Frankie said. He was staring, unblinking, at the surface of the table. “Man, I can’t believe she’s gone.”
“I tried, Frankie. I really did. She actually saved my life, if it’s any consolation.”
“No, no. It’s fine, John. It’s just…man, she didn’t deserve this.” He shook his head. “The government, man! They probably did this!”
“This is too much. What the hell is going on? You think it was the government?” Cindy asked.
John looked at Cindy. “Why would you suspect the government?”
Boogie answered for her. “One of those false flag things. Make the people think it’s more random than it is. Create chaos in spite of normalcy. It keeps people from focusing on the bigger issues and all that shit.”
John suspected the same thing, especially with what he had seen. What he didn’t want was everyone thinking it was the government and letting crazy theories run wild, especially when nobody, including John, understood what was happening. For all he knew, it could have been just some sort of random terrorist attack by any extremist group.
“What, you think politicians care about us? Huh? No, they don’t. All they care about is getting reelected. ‘Yes men’ surround them constantly, telling them white lies, blowing smoke up their ass, telling them the people need you and love you and want to reelect you, which, by the way, we need to work on right now. Don’t worry, the issues can wait. It takes time to get things done, we need to secure your future. Here, hold this baby and smile to the camera. Meanwhile…” Frankie pointed both hands toward the front window, “…the world burns! They always – ”
“Frankie, sweetie, not now!” Helen said. To John, she said, “Are you sure this isn’t just some riot? I mean, the idea of – god, I can’t even say it – zombies – I mean, it just sounds so far-fetched!”
“I get it, Helen, I really do. But this just happened all of a sudden. And to be honest, it all happened so fast and…so quickly…that I just reacted and got out of there. I do know that the people who were attacking everyone just seemed a bit off. Almost unhuman.” John shook his head for dramatic effect. “It was complete chaos,” he said.
“Could have been some sort of bad batch of Flakka, you know?” Cindy stood up and walked behind Boogie, and leaned against his chair. “I mean, that drug has the same effects. Maybe everyone in Seattle got sprayed, freaked out, then attacked? If so, it’ll wear off.”
John was shaking his head before she finished. “No. I’ve seen Flakka and how it works.” He didn’t want to tell them about his Crush MC days and how that was a drug of choice for some of the brothers. “This is different. Flakka just makes people crazy. Whatever this was actually changed people. Bloodshot eyes and a crazed look, yet focused and controlled. They were targeting people and not just running around all crazy.”
“Watching on the news, it looked like it was just riots. I mean, that’s what the news people were saying on Fox News,” Helen said.
“Fox News? Why would they be covering this in Seattle already?” John asked.
“Oh, you just got back.” Helen got up and walked into the living room. The rest of them soon followed. She bent down and picked up the remote, hit a few buttons and the screen came to life with four alternating split screens, each showing a different city then switching to another. The views were the same, all aerial and showing either live or past video feeds of bodies in the streets and parks, some twitching, so
me not moving and most showing people running in every direction with smoke and fire billowing from skyscrapers and vehicles. “This isn’t just Seattle, dear. This is nationwide.”
The ticker at the bottom showed several views from various cities. Buckingham Fountain – Chicago, Battery Park – Manhattan NYC, Boston National Park – Boston, South Miami Beach, Santa Monica Beach – Los Angeles, National Mall – Washington DC.
John sat down. The screen went from four different shots to one, focusing on Buckingham Fountain. This view was also taken from a helicopter and showed people running to the west, away from the large park that was on the coast of Lake Michigan.
“Oh, my god!” Helen yelled. “Those poor people!”
The majority of people running were being attacked by others who had previously been lying on the ground. Just like in Seattle, people were running away from a light haze of smoke or fog that hovered over the edge of the park and the edge of the lake. All that was seen on the TV screen were those people who were able to escape it to the left side of the screen.
While everyone else was focusing on the people on the left, John was staring at the right side of the screen. Two small black Zodiac boats – the rafts used by Special Forces – were taking off to the east, soon to be out of sight of the cameras. Each boat appeared to be full of men wearing dark gray camouflage and some sort of mask on their faces.
Just like Seattle.
Except this wasn’t Seattle. This was Chicago. Two thousand miles away.
Was this a government attack? Or was this some sort of highly orchestrated terrorist attack? Normally, John wouldn’t think terrorists would be capable of this, but after 9/11, anything was possible.
The screen then showed a full view of lower Manhattan. John recognized the location as Battery Park. When he was in fourth grade, his class was lucky enough to have won a history project contest and all students were able to fly to New York City on a history tour. One of those tours was of the Statue of Liberty, and he remembered he and all his classmates looking at the statue, waiting to board the ferry at Battery Park, where the aerial view was now showing in real time.
Inception_The Bern Project Page 14
