Season of Rot

by Eric S. Brown

  The intercom crackled and the broadcast changed to a voice with a heavy French accent. “So it’s me again. I’m still on the air as of now. I think I have enough fuel to keep the generator running and the heat on for another day or two. I don’t know why I’m doing this. I doubt actual people are listening to this anymore, but it helps me stay sane. Once a radio geek, always a radio geek,” the voice joked, then turned sad.

  “They took my wife yesterday. We left the station to see if we could find some food. We’d used up the stuff from the vending machines and the stuff for the lounge fridge, despite careful rationing. We snuck out the rear entrance and were heading for Baker Street because we knew there was a grocery on that block. The thing must have caught our scent or something, because we were being quiet and as careful as possible. It came tearing out of an abandoned car it must have been sleeping in. It wasn’t a wolf either. We didn’t see any of those.

  “This thing was one of their leaders, a full-on monster in the flesh. Must’ve stood eight feet tall. It went straight for Margaret, tossing me aside like trash.” The voice had become heartbroken and on the verge of tears. “When I got to my feet again, she was screaming and it had her skirt torn open, just… just taking her right there in the street.

  “I lost it, I guess. I had a metal bat with me that one of my friends had kept in his office, and I started beating the hell out of the thing’s head. At first, it grunted like I was a mere annoyance, and it kept rutting away. Finally, it turned and I caught a glimpse of its yellow eyes before it backhanded me. When I came to, they were gone. Margaret’s blood was smeared onto the street where she had lain, but I don’t think she’s dead.”

  The voice cracked, as if trying to hold back tears, and the speaker paused before continuing. “I think I’ll be seeing her again soon,” the man said with heavy sadness and an edge of fear. “She’ll change if she’s alive, then she’ll remember me. If the male of her pack allows it, she’ll be coming. I spent most of last night, before I got too drunk to stand, strengthening up the barricades on the doors and windows downstairs, but I’ve heard tell of those things tossing around cars. When she comes, she will get in.”

  The transmission ended and a new one started up, but this time there was only the sound of men and women screaming in the distance, as if they weren’t at their equipment and had merely left it on. When the screaming stopped, a chorus of hissing noises could be heard before the transmission ended and the next began.

  “Mayday! Mayday! This is the USS McDaniel. We are under attack! I repeat: we are under attack!” The sound of small arms fire and ripping metal could be heard loudly in the background. “The squids are everywhere! The bigger ones have breached the hull in several places, and the smaller mutated ones are climbing onto the deck. We’re being boarded. Help us! Help…” The transmission became static and cut off.

  “That’s all I have been able to piece together so far,” Darren informed the group. “We have been getting a constant live broadcast from Mexico, but it’s just a constant buzzing noise now. I swear it sounds like a swarm of insects talking.”

  Warren stood up behind the table he was at. “Thank you, Darren. As you’ve heard, the transmissions do confirm Mr. Higgins’ stories about what has happened to our world. He has also presented us with proof that he was indeed working as a British operative as part of a joint U.N. taskforce sent to the U.S. days after our country fell into complete collapse. None of this information directly changes our situation, but we are left with the question of what to do with Mr. Higgins himself. He has extensive knowledge in many fields that could be of use to us, and his presence will not adversely affect our resources. I would like to ask if he might be allowed to stay.”

  Murmurs of shock ran through the group. Michelle spoke up first. “Are you suggesting that you and Mike have actually thought of kicking him out? I mean just sending him out there to die?”

  Mike stood up beside Warren. “Transmissions and IDs can be faked. We don’t really know who this man is. I believe he may be unstable and a threat to our continued security. There are no such things as demons, yet Mr. Higgins firmly states that multiple factions of Hell have somehow been loosed upon our world. He believes these factions are at war with one another for the control of our planet. Does that sound remotely sane to any of you? Our problems come from the rats and a mutated viral strand, which has somehow caused an evolutionary jump in the rodent species.”

  Darren looked Mike in the eye. “I think believing something different than what you do is not cause to sentence a man to death. As far as I’m concerned, he’s already a part of our group by being human and alive.”

  “Those transmissions sounded pretty real to me,” Daniel chimed in. Words of agreement spread through the small crowd.

  Seeing he was defeated, Mike sat down and left Warren with the floor.

  Kyle, who had been smiling the whole time, suddenly jumped out of his seat like a lunatic. He pointed at something behind the group, and heads turned to the back of the mess hall where Jenkins was leaping to his feet, trying to claw his .45 free from its holster.

  A rat sat beside him, sniffing the air. With its blazing red eyes fixed on Warren, Mike and Kyle, it screeched and charged at them, baring its large primary teeth. Its screech quickly turned into a hiss of anger and superiority.

  As it made a path towards them, Michelle jumped out of her chair and crushed its skull underneath the heel of her right boot. Warm blood leaked from its eyes as she picked up its corpse by the tail and tossed it towards the back of the room. The group quickly spiraled into panic.

  “Hold on!” Warren ordered. “Everybody settle down—now!” The room fell silent at the fury in his voice. “If there were more of them in the room, they’d be attacking us already. Darren, get up to the control center and run a scan. Jenkins, Michelle, go with him! Everyone else, stay the fuck where you are. If they have made it in, the last thing we need to do is split up and take off running through the halls.”

  Darren, with Jenkins and Michelle in tow, had already sprinted out of the mess hall. Warren grabbed Kyle up by the front of his shirt. “Are there rats in this base? Have you seen any before?”

  Kyle knocked Warren’s hand away from him. “No. If they’re here, they must have followed you. How did all of you get here?”

  “The damn cars,” Warren said, realizing what Kyle was suggesting. He turned back to the crowd as the intercom blared to life and Darren’s voice flooded the room.

  “The base is clear. That thing must’ve been alone. But Warren, you and Mike need to get up here as fast as you can.”

  “Everybody stay calm!” Warren barked. “Go to your quarters, seal the doors, and we’ll let you know what’s going on as soon as possible. Now go!” Warren looked over the crowd as they poured out of the room. Mike and Kyle were running side by side for the control room and Warren cursed as he took off after them.

  Warren was the last one to make it. He looked at the external camera screens the others were staring at and simply breathed the words, “Oh shit.”

  Darren nodded gravely. “Yeah, it looks pretty bad.” Rows upon rows of rotting bodies stumbled around above the base, and literally thousands of rats skittered about beneath the corpses’ feet.

  “My lord,” Mike whispered and pointed at one of the screens showing the main doors. “Are those the things you’re calling demons?” he asked Kyle.

  Two massive creatures were looking down the shaft that led to the complex’s inner doors. They stood seven feet tall like humanoid rat monsters from a child’s nightmare. As Kyle spoke, a clawed hand fell over the camera’s lens and the screen went black.

  “Yep, those would be them,” Kyle confirmed smugly.

  “How the hell did they find us?” Mike wondered.

  “They followed us.” Warren drew his sidearm and checked its magazine. “Kyle said the rats want all of us dead and their borders clear before they launch into the war he’s told us about. Think about what our convoy mus
t have looked like to them. It was likely one of the last large gatherings of us anywhere in the U.S. They planned the attack on it and they’ve come to finish what they started.”

  “Yeah, but how did they know where to follow us?” Jenkins asked.

  “We had to leave the vehicles up top. They must have recognized them by our scent, then all they had to do was look around. With those damn huge open doors, where the hell else could they think we’ve gone to?”

  “The bio-scanners are still showing we’re clean so far,” Darren said with a shrug. “But if one got in, others probably will. It’s just a matter of time.”

  “The rat was a scout,” Warren and Kyle said almost at the same time. Warren snarled and Kyle gestured at the blank screen. “I’d be worried about the demons. Who knows how many are up there? The two we saw are enough to tear apart the inner doors alone, given time.” Kyle plopped down in a chair. “This is your base now, your group. You guys make the call. Are we going to fight or run?”

  “Where could we run to?” Mike fumed. “If this place isn’t safe, where the hell is?”

  “My home was still standing when I left. We could try for there,” Kyle offered.

  “You’re forgetting something.” Warren slid his gun into the holster on his belt. “In order to get out, we’re going to have to go past them… And on foot. They’ve torn the vehicles to shreds, you can bet on it.”

  “So there’s no other option?” Michelle asked. “We make a stand or die?”

  “Looks that way,” Daniel answered.

  “Great,” Michelle said bitterly. “Anybody got a plan as to how we do that?”

  “We could lock down the upper levels. Buy ourselves some time to think,” Darren suggested.

  “Are you insane?” Michelle appeared on the edge of exploding in his direction.

  “No, wait.” Warren gave her a stern glance. “He may be onto something. Kyle, can you control the lockdown? Choose which doors to seal?”

  “Yeah, sure. You want to lead them down a path, keep them from spreading out and using their numbers against us? I can do that, but remember, we don’t know how the lone rat got in. There’s no guarantee we won’t be facing them from two or more places regardless.”

  “If we’re going to make a stand, doing it gives us more of a chance than not trying it.” Warren pointed at the layout of the base on the scanner screen. “Try to force them through here.”

  Kyle spun around in his chair and went to work laying his preparations.

  “Daniel.” Warren laid a hand on the hulking man’s shoulder. “Go round up everyone you can who knows how to use a weapon in close quarters. Michelle, Jenkins, go break out the flamethrowers.” Warren placed a finger on the screen. “We’ll meet them here in the main corridor, two doors in from the main ones. They shouldn’t have time to break in any more than that before we’re in place.”

  “What about everyone else?” Darren asked.

  “Arm them and send them back to the mess hall until we see how this goes on the upper levels. If it goes well, the rats may cut their losses and bug out.”

  “I doubt that,” Kyle said, looking over his shoulder at Warren as he worked.

  “Me too, but if they do, it’ll be our window to make a run for it. If not, taking us out is going to cost them. They’ll have to pay heavily for every foot they make it inside.”

  Five

  By the time Warren reached the spot on the upper level where the group had opted to make their stand, the others were waiting. Daniel and Jenkins wore the flamethrower units, which would be the group’s core defense. Michelle and Brent, being better marksmen, carried assault rifles; it would be primarily up to them to hold off the burning dead. Mike and a young woman named Brook stood behind them, armed with scattershot shotguns to deal with whatever rats made it through the flames and to cover the group’s retreat, if it came to that.

  Warren had arrived late because he’d stopped to place several charges on the corridor walls farther down in order to slow the enemy if they were forced to bug out faster than they planned. Already, the demons were pounding away at the last inner door.

  “Looks like you made it here in the nick of time, boss,” Michelle said, smiling.

  Warren returned her smile and readied the bulky, eight-shot grenade launcher in his hands, taking aim as the door fell inward and an angry demon met them with a half-surprised screech.

  “Light ‘em up!” Warren yelled and pulled the trigger of his weapon. The grenade caught the monster in the chest, knocking it backwards in a mass of blood and bone.

  The defenders rose up from their makeshift cover as rats came pouring towards them. Twin jets of flame streaked into the passageway, frying the lead rats as they ran headlong into the blazing streams. The rodents began to realize they were not gaining ground and withdrew as the dead came staggering in.

  Daniel and Jenkins fell back, and Warren, tossing aside his launcher in favor of an AK-47, joined Michelle and Jenkins as they opened up on full auto, spraying the dead in the confined space. Warren and Jenkins quickly switched to placing their rounds for more effect as Michelle kept up the onslaught, pushing the corpses back as best she could. Despite their efforts, the dead gained ground.

  Mike stepped up and fired around Michelle as she paused to reload. Brook stayed in the rear, and she was the one to notice the rats using the dead for cover. “They’re coming back!” she screamed, unable to fire with her friends in front of her.

  Pressing themselves against the walls, Warren and Brent reloaded, then resumed firing as Jenkins and Daniel took the center, smothering the floor of the corridor in flame. More rats squealed, dying as they were cooked alive, but the dead paid no attention to the fires swirling about their waists; they continued to press forward. The base’s defenders were ever so slowly being forced to retreat.

  Then Daniel’s flamethrower ran dry. “Incoming!” he shouted and ran behind the others as the rats made a renewed push forward. Jenkins cranked up his flame and engulfed the whole corridor in a sea of fire.

  “Fall back!” Warren ordered.

  Kyle, who was watching the battle from the control room, sealed a door behind them as they retreated deeper into the complex. When the door slammed shut, the defenders paused to regroup. Benji came running up to them with a new flamethrower in his hands. Daniel grabbed it and began to strap it onto his back.

  “Thank you,” Warren told Benji. “Now get the hell out of here!”

  Benji turned and fled as the pounding on the door started.

  “Grenade again?” Daniel asked.

  “Can’t,” Warren replied. “Not enough cover this time.”

  “What about the demon?” someone shrieked.

  “We’re going to have to shoot the fucker!”

  The monsters bashed through the door, and it flew inward, slamming Brent into the wall and cutting his body nearly in half. Blood and intestines spilled from the long gash across his stomach.

  The demon sprang at them like a force of nature. Michelle and Warren blasted it, and spent round casings clattered to the floor around them. It howled in pain but kept moving straight into the heart of the group, clawing away most of Jenkins’s face. His finger tightened on the trigger of his flamethrower, hosing Daniel and Mike. Daniel’s flamethrower exploded, and Jenkins’s erupted soon after.

  Michelle and Brook managed to evade the blasts, ducking away around a corner. They got to their feet as the demon came around the bend, stumbling, its whole body ablaze.

  Brook watched in horror as Michelle stepped up to it and stuck the barrel of her rifle against its face. She pulled the trigger, and its head splattered from a point-blank, three-round burst. “That’s for Warren,” she whispered as its body toppled over with a thud. Michelle stared at the burning thing with tears welling up in her eyes until Brook yanked her backwards by her shoulder, screaming for her to come on.

  Kyle’s voice boomed over the intercom. “Run! Get to the lower levels! I’m locking down the top co
mpletely—run!”

  Brook dragged Michelle into a lift and didn’t let go until its doors sealed behind them. Michelle slumped to the floor, shaking with sobs. Brook kneeled beside her and took her in her arms.

  The lift didn’t stop until it reached the bottom level. Darren met them and helped Michelle to her feet. “Kyle’s on his way here, sealing the last of the doors manually behind him.”

  Michelle took a deep breath, steadying herself. “How long?” she asked.

  “Kyle said he didn’t know. If they work their way to a lift and come down its shaft, less than an hour, tops.” Darren reached out and put a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry about Warren.”

  She slapped his hand off her. “We don’t have time for this. I’m the only one left who has real training in fighting the rats. I’ve got to do something to try and stop them.” She marched off towards the mess hall with Brook and Darren reluctantly following her. “These people need to know what’s coming,” she said without looking back.

  Benji was standing inside the doorway to the mess hall as Michelle entered. She shoved him aside before he could ask where Mike was, and every pair of eyes in the room turned towards her.

  “Warren’s dead,” she stated in a hollow voice. “So are Mike and the others.”

  The news hit Benji like a fist to the gut. He fell to his knees with tears flowing down his cheeks.

  “The rats are inside the base and coming for us. We have less than an hour.”

  The other survivors remained silent, stricken with terror.

  “There’s no way out,” Michelle informed them. “I know none of you are soldiers. Most of you never used a gun before the rats came, and some of you probably don’t think you can, but we’re it. What we do in the next few minutes will determine who we are and what our lives meant. We can sit and wait for the rats to gnaw us into bits, or we can go fighting like Warren and the others did. It’s up to you, but I need to know this instant where we stand.”

  “Haven’t been too keen on waiting around my whole life,” a big man named Paul said.