Suddenly, Crystal heard another sound, a short thud, like someone beating a rug, followed by a splash. Then she heard the sound again. And again.
A man screamed at her. “Crystal! Get up!” the voice said. She opened her eyes. It was Ray. “Oh thank God!” she said, “Thank you for coming back for me!” Ray held out his free hand and helped Crystal to her feet. His entire torso, from his neck to his waist, was covered in the same blackish liquid that Crystal had on her hands. In his other hand he held a long iron bar that curved ninety degrees at one end and flattened like a chisel on the other. Crystal had seen one of those before, it was in the trunk of her husband's car. It was a tire iron.
Ray saw the shocked look on Crystal's face. He held the tire iron up for her to see. It, and his entire arm up to the shoulder, was covered in black goo. “I grabbed it out of the truck when I saw how many of those fucking things were coming down into the bayou. One hit fucks them up pretty good. They kind of explode. Whatever this shit is inside them, it must be under pressure because once you tear open their skin they pop like a shaken soda bottle.”
Crystal didn't care that he smelled like shit and rotten eggs, she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her body tight against his. “I'm sorry I said those nasty things to you and Moji. I didn't mean a word of it! I’m sorry I ran. I was so scared!”
“Hey, don't worry about it, all is forgiven. The important thing is that you are safe.”
”Thank you for coming back for me...for saving my life.”
Ray was surprised by Crystal's sudden display of affection, but he didn't resist her embrace. His free arm wrapped around her waist and his hand slid under the waistband of her skirt. The back of her blouse was wet and torn. He pulled his hand back and looked at it. “Crystal, you’re bleeding.” He spun her around to look at her back. “Hold still, I'm going to lift your shirt a little so I can see how bad it is.”
“Ray, I was so scared,” she said, her voice breaking, “you and Moji were running away from me and that thing...that unborn thing came at me, I didn't know what to do, so I just tackled it.”
Ray whistled at the sight of the wounds. There were several deep gouges running from her lower back to just under shoulder blades. “Girl, you may have won the war with that thing but it won a battle or two.” Ray glanced over at the creature Crystal fought. “How did you manage to kill it?”
“I...I don't know. I was so scared! I grabbed it around the neck and squeezed.”
Ray looked at Crystal's hands. Her fingernails had grown noticeably longer and more curved since they left the apartment building. What the fuck does that shit mean? he thought. He wiped the concerned frown off his face and forced his attention to the wounds on Crystal’s back. “That thing sliced your back all to shit. We're going to need to dress these wounds.” He touched the area around a gash that was particularly deep. “Does it hurt when I touch it?”
“I felt a sting when it first happened, but I don't feel any pain now. “Is it really that bad?”
“Yeah, it's that bad,” he said, dropping her shirt and turning her to face him. “So bad that I'm surprised you said you’re not in pain. You're either in shock or…”
“Or what?”
Ray pushed the thought out of his mind. He didn't want to scare Crystal, at least not until he had more information. “Or you got the highest pain tolerance this side of the Mississippi. Come on, let's go before another wave of these things show up.”
Ray took Crystal by the hand and led her past the deformed and disemboweled bodies scattered over the tilted concrete landscape. The blackish liquid—Crystal still had a difficult time calling it blood—oozed from the corpses and flowed slowly down the concrete slope to the water’s edge. It reminded her of the nature shows she watched as a child, where the narrator described in vivid detail the plight of terrified natives making way for the lava as it breached its crater and cascaded down the mountainside, scouring everything it touched on its way to the sea. She had a sudden realization; she was like those natives trying to outrun the lava; powerless to stop it, her only choice was to run, only to be overrun by a beast whose relentless pursuit would ultimately drive her into the sea. The thought left her confused, worried, and even more afraid. She noticed that she was holding Ray's injured hand, the one that had turned black all the way to his shoulder. I was so repulsed by it when I first saw it, she thought, but now, just holding his hand, I feel comforted and safe. She felt a pang of guilt as she jogged along behind him, squeezing his hand a little tighter as they sidestepped the burst bodies of the creatures he’d killed to rescue her. He risked his life to save mine, she thought, it's only natural that I’d feel a sense of gratitude and a special closeness to him because of it. She prayed to God that's all it was.
50
Blocks of sunlight streamed through the rectangular windows of the ten or so ward room doors that lined one side of the curved corridor. Abandoned IV stands, miscellaneous medical equipment, and a couple of derelict gurneys choked her path, creating life-like shadows that made Josephine jumpy.
Despite her nervousness, she was thankful for the fifth floor’s natural light; the windows of the rooms on the sixth floor faced east, away from the setting sun, forcing her search to be conducted in almost complete darkness, with only her weapon light to illuminate her path. I almost wimped out and got Brady on the radio, she thought, just so I could have someone keep me company while I trounced around in those dark rooms. She broke onto a self-congratulatory smile. She was glad she didn't, for two reasons. One, her reputation as an army officer, already at an all-timelow because her unit commander was a misogynistic pig, would've been further tarnished if Banes or Lacey overhead her acting like a frightened little girl, and two, she might slip up and let Brady in on the real reason why they have to exterminate anyone they find infected with the virus. Captain Lewis is a good soldier, and an even better man. The knowledge that the virus was of alien origin, and was responsible for turning normal human beings into body-snatching mutants, would probably be too much for a man like him to bear. The general designated that intel as need-to-know, she thought, not because he thought it would cause a panic, but because he doesn’t believe it himself. The general is indeed a selfish, maniacal asshole who would rather see good people die than be wrong about anything.
Josephine slowly cracked the door open to the first room—the wall plaque said it was room 5W-01—and let the barrel of her rifle peek inside before sliding in behind it. It was a typical hospital ward; four beds, two on either side of the room, each separated by a rolling privacy curtain. This room did have a feature the other rooms she’d visited didn't have: brightly colored cartoon animals painted on the floor, walls, and ceiling. Obviously, this floor houses the hospital’s children's ward, she thought. Like all the rooms she'd checked so far, this one was messy—it looked as though everyone left in a hurry—but empty. She checked her watch. Time’s almost up, I need to hurry if I'm gonna make my fourth floor rendezvous with Brady. She chuckled to herself. Look at me, acting like a star struck school girl looking forward to her make out session with the school’s jock of the month.
She backed out of the room and continued down the corridor, quickly examining each of the remaining rooms. A few had their windows blown out; she saw shattered glass and other debris on some of the beds. After she searched the last examination room, she did an about face and bounded back up the corridor, jiggling the handles of the doors on the opposite side. There were no examination rooms on this side, just utility and storage closets. As she passed the nurses station, she tried the handle of a storage closet. Like the others before it, it was locked. But this time, as she stepped back and began to move away, the door handle moved of its own accord, swinging slowly down to the unlocked position.
Josephine stumbled backward in surprise. “C-Come out!” she said as she raised her rifle into the firing position, “Come out slowly, with your hands in the air!”
The door swung inward. No light penetrated
the closet’s dark interior. Josephine's heart was beating so fast that she felt faint. Don't you fucking pass out now Josephine! she thought. “Whoever you are, you’ve got ten seconds to step out of that closet before I fill it full of lead.”
Someone in the closet took a breath; Josephine heard a soft but distinct sigh.
My weapon light! Josephine flicked the switch with her thumb. The gloom retreated, revealing a closet lined with shelves on both sides, full of linens and blankets, and standing in the doorway, in front of blankets piled on the floor arranged in the shape of a bassinet, was a child.
The little girl couldn't have been more than six years old. Josephine knew it was a girl because she had long, platinum blonde hair that fell to the middle of her back, and more tellingly, she wore bright pink and white onesie pajamas, with feet molded in the shape of crouching bunny rabbits, each with sewn-on whiskers and a pair of small white bunny rabbit ears.
Josephine took her finger off the trigger and lowered her weapon. “Hello sweetheart,” she said, “how’d you get in there?”
The little girl said nothing. She just stood there, holding the closet door open with her body, with a slight closed mouth grin on her face.
“Step on out of the closet honey,” Josephine said, “come on out here closer to me.”
The girl’s smile grew a little wider—Josephine saw a hint of white teeth through the girl's tightly stretched lips—and trundled out into the open corridor in that funny half walk, half run gait that happy children use. Josephine slung her rifle over her shoulder and bent down on one knee. The girl stopped about four feet in front of her and just stood there, staring.
“Don't be afraid, come closer, I won't hurt you.” Josephine realized that the girl might be frightened by her respirator. Well, I'm sorry little girl, I'm not taking it off, even for you. “What's your name honey? Were you a patient at this hospital?” The little girl didn't reply, she just stood there, arms by her sides, staring intently at Josephine, like she was waiting for something to happen. Josephine dug into the pocket of her vest and retrieved a day old energy bar that she planned on eating on the ride back to the base. She stood, held the bar out in front of her, and took a step toward the girl. “You must be starving. You want this? It's a energy bar. It tastes like chocolate.”
The little girl backed away from Josephine's outstretched hand, staying just out of reach.
Josephine stopped and knelt down again. “Ok sweetheart, I won't come any closer. Here, take the bar, you’ll like it.” She tossed the energy bar at the girl. It landed, striking one of her bunny-clad feet. The little girl didn't respond to the presence of the bar, she didn't even acknowledge it, her eyes remained locked on Josephine. Ok, this is weird, she thought, she doesn't look infected, but she is acting pretty strange. Josephine concluded that the girl probably wasn't a patient, as she wasn't wearing standard hospital garb, she didn't have any sort of identification band on her wrist, and Josephine was confident that the hospital staff would have made sure to account for all their patients as they evacuated the premises, especially the children. She was more likely a visitor, tagging along behind some distraught parent or guardian who promptly lost track of her during the chaos of the meteor explosion. Poor thing is probably in shock. She hoped that was the case. She activated her radio. “Captain Lewis, this is Sergeant Peters. Come in.”
“Where are you Sergeant?” Brady responded, “I’ve been waiting at our agreed upon rendezvous point for over five minutes. What's the hold up?”
“Sir, I’m on the fifth floor. I've located someone. A little girl, about six years old.”
“A six year old girl? Have you examined her? Is she—?”
“No sir, she appears to be one hundred percent healthy.”
“Thank God for small miracles. What's her name?”
“Sir, I don't know. I can't get her to talk. As a matter of fact, I can't get her to even walk over to me. She's standing about five feet away, just staring at me.”
“Well, she's probably traumatized. Just scoop her up and bring her to the ground floor. We’ll bring her back to base and let the docs take a look at her.”
“Yes sir. On my way.” Josephine switched off her radio, then stood up. The little girl hadn't moved nor had the expression on her face changed. God, she looks like a life-sized Hormel figurine. “Sweetheart, I don't know how much of what I'm saying you understand, but I can't leave you here. You're gonna have to go with—”
A odd, faint sound wafted into the corridor; a high pitched squealing mixed with a noise that reminded Josephine of the sound wolves make when ripping apart their prey. It seemed to be coming from the ward room closest to her. She toggled her radio. “Captain, come in. Do you hear that sound?”
“Yeah,” Brady replied, “it's coming from outside, but I can't tell from which direction. Lacey, Banes, you guys see anything?”
“No sir,” Lacey said, but I hear it too.”
“Barnes,” Brady said, “you see anything? Report.”
The radio was silent for several seconds, then there was a click and Barnes’ voice burst through, full of trepidation. “I see them! About a quarter mile south of my position. A bunch of dogs...hundreds of them. They're tearing apart these...these...I don't know what they are. They look human but something’s happened to them. They look...burnt.”
“Barnes, this is Sergeant Peters. Best guess of how many of these human-like figures that you see?”
“It's hard to estimate just by looking through my rifle scope, but I would say it's in the multiple hundreds. There's a lot of them down there.”
“Ok folks,” Brady said, “it's time for us to bug out. Barnes, Lacey, double time it back to the Humvee. Peters, bring the girl and meet me on the ground floor.”
Everyone acknowledged their orders and signed off. Josephine stepped toward the little girl and held her arms out wide. “Ok sweetheart, you heard the man, don't make me have to chase you—”
The little girl sprinted to her and jumped into her arms.
“Oh, ok! Now you're in a hurry to leave!” She hefted the girl onto her left hip and jogged as quickly as she could toward the stairwell. The little girl wrapped her arms around Josephine's neck and buried her face into her shoulder. She could feel the little girl's breath on her neck. Poor thing, she’s scared to death. She's breathing like an overheated dog, probably hyperventil—
Josephine felt a lightning bolt of pain at the base of her neck. It flashed down her spine, numbing her legs and making her knees buckle. She stumbled and fell to the floor. The little girl jumped off her hip and landed feet first about two feet in front of her. Josephine sat up and leaned against the wall, pressing her hand to her neck. “What...what did you do?” she gasped as the pain in her neck spread across her chest and into her arms. The little girl turned around to face her, a big smile etched on her face. This time, her mouth was open and in it, resting between the two rows of the little girl's pearly white teeth, writhed a snake. Black, and slick with the girl's spit, it thrashed and darted in and out of the girl's mouth, a blue-black barb protruding from the place where its head should of been. Josephine's chest heaved, desperate to take a breath. The pain in her arms weighed them down, slowing her movements as she clawed at the faceplate of her respirator, struggling to suck air past her swollen tongue. She toggled the radio and, using the last of the air in her lungs, willed herself to speak. “Help... she's…”
Josephine's words were cut off by a small hand pressed against her throat.
51
As the screams of the unborn echoed past her ears, fear washed over Moji's psyche like a cold rain, making her whole body shiver. She sat crouched in the dark, just outside the point where daylight could reach, her back pressed against the cement wall of the culvert, as a stream of black water flowed out of the dark of the tunnel, past her feet, and toward the bright ovoid of light at the culvert’s mouth. Tyson sat about ten feet closer to the culvert's opening, his back turned in seeming indifference to he
r presence. His bloodied black coat shimmered in the fading daylight, reflecting off of wounds acquired from his battle with the creatures that attacked them in the bayou. Moji thought it made him look iridescent; as if he were wearing a coat of armor. My knight in shining armor, she thought. “Baby,” Moji said, her voice choked with sadness, “I'm so glad that you're alive. I don't think I could survive this madness if I lost you too.” At the sound of her voice, Tyson turned his head and stared back at her. His eyes, even in the dim light of the culvert, were darker than she remembered. “Tyson,” she whispered, as she took a step forward, “baby, you're hurt. Let momma take a look at those…”
A deep, ominous growl dripped from between Tyson's bared teeth, causing Moji to cower back to the safety of the shadows, shocked and hurt that her love would react to her with such hate. She tried to convince herself that Tyson was warning her to stay put, to protect her from the horrible monsters that still wandered outside their hiding place, but her heart told her otherwise. He no longer knows me, she thought. The Tyson I love is gone. This...thing, it's not protecting me, it's holding me prisoner. Moji didn't know how she knew, she didn't want to believe it, but she knew it was true. She could feel it. I’m losing my mind, she thought, just like before, when daddy died. And I can't stop it.
There was movement outside the culvert. Tyson jumped up and ran toward the disturbance. Moji scrambled further into the tunnel, the metallic taste of adrenaline rising in the back of her throat, as she watched tall, distorted shadows on the curved wall lurch toward her, elongating as they approached. She froze and held her breath as the shadows shrank, then merged, revealing two human forms.
The Scourge Page 40
