Matthews raises the blade.
I look to Sara.
“Get up,” she says with a sad smile. “Get up.”
I look back to Matthews, and the knife slicing towards my neck.
My chest contracts as I let out a yell, but I hear no sound. I reach up and grab the blade as it comes down. I don’t feel it tearing into the flesh of my left palm. I grip the arrowhead in my right hand and thrust it into his foot as hard as I can.
He screams. In the pain, he loses his grip on the knife, and my bloodied left hand pries it from his. I throw the knife to the side. I pull the arrow from his foot and drive it into the side of his knee. He buckles over in pain. I pull myself to my feet while Matthews falls to his knees right in front of me.
His eyes meet my own. My body feels numb.
My bloodied hand grabs his hair and tilts his head back.
I pull my other arm back and aim the arrow for his eye. I stare into his cold eyes as they beg for life.
The steel arrowhead goes into his head until it rests against the back of his skull. His head falls to the side and cracks on the asphalt.
It's finished.
My left hand is cut wide open from catching the knife, and warm blood runs down my back and shoulder. My senses return; the pain returns and it consumes my body.
I’m finished. It's all finally over.
I stumble, collapsing into a sitting position. I try to look around for anyone else, but darkness fills my vision. I fall onto my side in the small bit of snow.
Things grow darker.
I hope the others are a little luckier. I loved you all.
The world fades to black.
I’ll see you soon Sara.
Chapter 27: Ryan
I pull the rifle’s stock to my shoulder and fire three shots into the growing gap on the right side of the bus. I kick over a metal display in a sad attempt to slow them down.
I move towards Michael. Nichols approaches as well, and we convene in the center of the store. With our backs to each other, we continue to suppress the attackers from their two entry points on each side of the bus. The bus provides enough cover in the front, but groups of the soldiers are trying to flank our position from around the corners. They seem to be attacking in waves. I turn to the back of the store. Paige balances her rifle on the back counter, occasionally firing and keeping soldiers from entering the shattered window on the bus's right. Michael tried to open the second shield on the bus, but an explosion had disabled the hinge. It leaves the right side very exposed and is taking most of our effort to hold them back. Jo is inside the bus using a scoped rifle to slow down their support before they can get close.
We’ve dropped dozens of them. Yet, they keep coming every minute from around the bus. We only manage a few seconds of rest between each time they try to re-enter.
I don't know how long we can keep this up. My back collides with Nichols or Michael.
“So, gentlemen, what the hell is the plan?” Nichols yells during a brief pause of gunfire.
“Richards? You get that started yet?” Michael yells towards the bus. It's been over five minutes, but that engine won't turn. The other man he came with looks out of the bus and shakes his head.
Great. Our way out has crumbled, and just when everything was starting to look promising. The mission was almost complete.
“Even if you start it, do you think you will even be able to get us all out of here on that thing?” I yell, gesturing towards the bus with my elbow. It's taken a hell of a beating.
“We'll try,” he says with a weary look. “If we can just get it started.”
This has gone to hell. We need a plan B. I need to come up with a plan B. They look to me.
“We can't stay here any longer,” Nichols shouts. I line up my sights and take out another soldier trying to enter the store. We don’t need a plan B; we need a plan period. We can't all wait here forever and hope that thing will start. We especially need to get that cure out. That's all that matters.
And not just because it's the mission, but because that is what they've all died for.
It's what David died for. David and Kevin, and the others, too. It's not just about the mission.
“Nichols,” I say, “the fire from that bomb should have settled. Go back that way and see if you can find some way out. We'll give you cover. We just need to get one of us out of here with that vaccine and then hide in any of the skyscrapers around here.”
If he's alone, he'll be able to scout ahead. Maybe there's some way – some back door...
“They're everywhere,” he says back, while moving the rifle between the two sides of the bus in our brief pause in shooting.
“Just run,” I respond. “Their focus is on this bus, and if we don't get that started soon we are going to be overrun. I'm sure those helicopters can't be far. God knows what else they have cooked up out there.”
“Can do,” he says back, looking briefly at the bus and then nodding in agreement.
The three of us move to the end of the left wing of the bus. He can run straight through the window we came through earlier and back into the other building.
“Here,” Michael says. He holds a silver cylinder, about the size of a can of pop. “It's smoke.”
I pull the pin and toss it ahead. It explodes in a puff of gray smoke. Nichols charges into it and disappears.
Michael and I immediately open fire and empty our clips around the bus and into the street to give him cover. Michael reloads, fires a few shots, and heads back to the entrance to the bus. He sticks his head through the door and shouts something. I turn and force a few soldiers into cover who are trying to enter the store through the nearest gap – they are getting closer to overwhelming us. I look to Paige behind the distant counter. Several bullets pepper around her, forcing her to duck. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now she's nearly trapped back there. There's no cover anymore between the counter and here. Their shots have destroyed it all.
Dammit. I'll figure it out – I won't let her die out there by herself.
“We can't hold much longer,” Michael yells with his head partly in the bus. “There isn't much 50 cal ammo left.”
“Focus on getting that thing started,” I shout to him. “Then we can get the hell out of here. We need to-”
“Not without me.” a voice yells from beside the bus. I quickly turn with a raised rifle to see two soldiers trying to get around the shield. Before I fire, the first one collapses - dead. The soldier behind him holds a bloodied knife and a relaxed rifle in the other hand. My eyes focus – it's Carter. He has on one of their uniforms. Blood runs down the side of his head, but he largely looks all right. He places his back against the steel shield beside me.
“How'd the hell you get free?” I ask.
“As soon as this bus showed up, it's been chaos out there. They're disorganized,” he says, bringing the rifle to his shoulder and preparing to fire towards the opposite side of the store.
“You're lucky I didn't shoot you!” I say with relief. He nods in agreement while his eyes scan the store.
“Where's Paige?” he asks, glancing around. Carter sees her towards the back behind a check-out counter.
The counter is nearly completely destroyed. She is still shooting every so often out into the street. I know shooting isn't her specialty, but she's doing well.
I'm... I'm proud of her.
There are just too many.
We are cornered.
Explosions and bullets ricochet off the thick metal of the bus. Two soldiers try to enter from the shattered right window, but Michael's gunfire pushes them back. He reaches back into the engine block and yells for Richard to try again. The engine tries to turn, but it fails again. Michael swears repeatedly. Everything feels hopeless. I should have just given Nichols the cure. Maybe... just maybe he-
Carter elbows my arm.
“Ryan, cover me. I'm going to her, she's too exposed out there,” he says. His request doesn't help the missi
on, but I suppress the thought. It's not about the mission anymore.
I remember David, and everyone else who I have lost. I can't keep living like this.
I can't die like that. These New Americans changed me, but I won't die like that. I can't be cruel. Not at the very end. That man I executed in the woods. That caravan I raided at gunpoint and forced to leave a car. That's not me.
Not anymore. Never again.
“Let's go,” I raise my weapon and begin to move across the toy store, providing cover. Carter fires a few shots then after a few clicks he drops his rifle and switches to his pistol. He's out of ammo.
A New American rushes around the bus and attempts to find cover behind a metal shelf. I fire three shots through it, and his body drops to the side.
Carter and I both reach the counter, I steady my gun on it. Carter kneels beside Paige and wraps his arms around her.
“Are you okay?” he asks, crouching beside her behind the counter.
“Yea, I'm fine,” she says.
He holds her tight and runs his hand through her hair. A missile from outside explodes against the nearby wall, showering us with dust. The two stare at each other.
They know that hope is gone, but it doesn’t matter to them. Their last moments spent together – that’s what matters.
That’s what I lost.
These past few weeks, I have forgotten how to live. And among all this death, what they have in this brief moment is beautiful.
I remember that last night at the school; playing the guitar on that stage and watching everyone be so happy. I had done that. I made that night possible with years of hard work. Most of all, I did that without being what the New American's made me. Let's end this right.
I stand up and fire a few more shots around the sides of the bus.
“Let's get you in that bus; they will have it started soon,” I lie.
They break their embrace. Carter withdraws his pistol and checks the round in the chamber. He gives me a nod and fires his pistol towards even more soldiers trying to make their way in from the left side.
“Alright, to the bus,” I yell. They both nod. I turn, and-
“Ryan, look out!” Carter stands and fires two shots behind me, dropping a soldier running around the side of the bus. I turn to Carter and nod.
A gunshot goes off within the store.
Carter's body flinches forward. His eyes go wide and his arms collapse to his side. A hole surrounded by blood appears in his stomach. He collapses to the floor.
As he falls, I see a soldier crouching behind him in between two aisles. How'd he get in? I drop him with half a clip before he can think about shooting again. Paige kneels beside Carter, holding his hand and cradling his head. Excruciating pain covers his face as he tries to sit up.
He swears.
There is no pause between gunshots, now. Their assault seems relentless on the right side. I hear their voices shouting to one another just outside. I fire a few shots, but there are too many of them for a handful of rounds to slow them. Michael is pinned down beside the bus. There are too damn many. They'll be inside soon. We can't keep them out of the store any longer.
Redeemed or not, I've failed.
“I'm sorry Carter,” I say reloading my rifle beside him. It is my last clip.
“You've done the best you could,” he says while gripping his side. He reaches his hand forward towards me; I grasp it. Blood gathers in his mouth.
As I sit there amidst the chaos and screams, while holding the hand of a dying friend, all of me comes back.
It's not about being in charge. It's about being a leader. It's about being a friend. It's not my fault. I, we, did our best.
And that's all a leader could ever ask.
Carter and Paige stare into my eyes behind the counter. Paige gives me a half of a smile before she turns her attention back to Carter. She applies pressure to the wound. She's calm. Carter is, too. They've accepted our end.
“I'm sorry if I lost my way,” I say.
“Ryan... it's okay. We're all here now. We had a good run.”
No.
“Let's finish this. We just need to get back on the bus. It's not over yet,” I yell. I'm not giving up. When he sees how serious I am, Carter finds his gun on the floor. Paige reaches into her pocket and pulls out the syringe with the vaccine. She hands it to me.
“Deliver this, leave us,” she says, tears building in her eyes. “We'll cover you. Help him get that started, and the minute it roars to life you get the hell out of here.”
“Like hell. You're going to deliver it,” I roar. Carter's eyes go wide. “Now get off your ass and get on that damn bus!”
I stand again and fire a burst of fire in several directions to the right. Immediately, I reach down and grab Carter around his arm. Paige takes the other side as Carter screams in agony. We lift him and drag him towards the bus. I fire blindly towards soldiers. Paige does the same. We have to cover fifteen feet with no cover before we can get to safety beside the bus and in front of the steel shield. I put myself between the soldiers and those two. We can make it-
Pain erupts in my leg, but I continue. Another shot goes into my arm, but my grip on Carter remains strong.
With a final burst of strength, we make it back behind the shield of the bus; Paige and Carter seem to have made the trek unscathed. I can't say the same. The small area beside the bus is the last safe place in the whole store. They have managed to get inside the toy store on the right side.
I release Carter to the ground by the luggage compartments, despite the pain, he goes for another rifle while Paige tends to him.
I look down. My leg bleeds.
So does my arm. I don't think they noticed. That's okay.
“Michael, this bus ready to roll?” I scream. He hurries out from the inside and goes into the luggage compartment with a few tools at hand. He has a pained expression on his face.
“It still won't start.”
Nichols, please get back here.
I support my body against the front of the bus and try to prevent the soldiers from crossing over into the back of the store and killing us all.
Chapter 28: Nichols
I throw my hat into the passenger’s seat and slip under the wheel. Hopefully, this fourth ride has the smallest bit of juice left in it. There's a big parking garage situated behind the building in which my friends are trapped; maybe our way out is in one of these. Most of the cars are a rusted mess, but four are clearly less so. The cars are parked in a row with the backseats filled with boxes and food. They must have belonged to someone not too long ago. God knows where they are – how many abandon cars will I find? How many others survivors are out there just beyond our grasp? The first three cars I tried were completely dead – modern cars. The last one is some classic convertible with a heavy body and a hard top.
I fumble with a few wires beneath the dash while I continue to hear the gunshots echo through the cement walls of the parking complex – a constant reminder of the urgency I feel. The engine tries to turn with a low whine. I spark the two wires again; the engine again tries to turn. I twist the wires together and slam my elbow onto the gas pedal.
Nothing.
I emerge defeated from the old convertible and look around desperately. The car faces down a ramp. Maybe...
I remember a movie that I saw once. What the heck. My hand jams the transmission into neutral. I step to the car's rear and place both my hands on the trunk and push. The mildly deflated tires slowly roll. Leaning lower, I place my shoulder against the trunk and push like I’m being crushed. It begins to roll down the incline. I sprint to the driver's side door and slam the door beside me. The convertible gathers speed. My foot presses the gas while my hand turns the ignition.
Start, Start. The cement wall at the bottom of the ramp comes closer.
God. Please. Give us a chance.
The red convertible roars to life. I crank the wheel hard to the right and power around the corner. I accelerate wh
ile following the exit signs. The thing is rusted, but it still has character beneath the hood. At the very least, I will die with style. I grin while adjusting my hat back on my head. The bumper snaps the arm of the tollbooth in half as I exit onto the street. The tires slide in the inch of slush as I take another hard right. The toy store shouldn’t be much father.
“C’mon. C’mon,” I yell into the steering wheel. I round another corner and zoom into the gunfight. The entire street in front of the toy store is in chaos. The bus still sits crashed into the store, and in front of it are dozens of New American vehicles. Many are on fire. Sporadic shots come from the gun mounted on the back of the bus, still managing to keep most of the enemy at bay. The remaining soldiers continue to fire from behind their barricades, but their numbers are definitely beginning to thin. My foot crushes the pedal, and I head for the store. The closer I get, the louder everything grows.
Explosions.
Gunfire.
Bodies.
In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.
They won’t last if I don't get to them.
The convertible is small and squeezes between their trucks, few of the soldiers even notice me until I pass. My side mirror snaps off while slipping between two Humvees, but I pull the wheel hard to the left and swerve around the burning wreck of a car. The rear window shatters, and I duck as a few holes appear in the windshield.
A soldier jumps out in front of me while firing his weapon. I wince when the front bumper collides and the man's body rolls over the top. I'll pray for him later.
Almost there...
I swerve around the armored bus, ducking as another few shots pepper the side of the door. The side of the convertible scrapes along the thick metal of the shield as I steer it into cover behind the metal barrier of the bus within the store. This bucket of rust can take a beating. Classic cars. I slam it into park. An explosion erupts directly behind me. I feel the heat on my neck from within the car.
That was close. I stand beside the car, looking to Ryan who leans against the front of the bus. The number of soldiers on the right side immediately catches my attention; they are in the toy store. A few shots from my revolver keep a pair of soldiers at bay and prevent them from crossing to the other side.
Humanity Gone (Book 3): Rebirth Page 15
