As I reached the edge of this set of terraced shops, so the group hit the intersection.
Tap-tap echoed the knocks. They sounded a little more distant now, from the direction we had come, but a little louder in the direction we were headed.
There was a fork, with the left direction heading down another high street with shops, while the right direction faded quickly into bistros, and then residential buildings. The group waited below, noticeably on edge. They were all aiming their weapons ahead of them now, where the taps had been loudest. Dale looked up questioningly.
I pointed to the right; the sooner we hit residential, the sooner we could be heading out of town. He gave me the ‘okay’ hand signal, and I heard Greg say; “We letting her dictate?” I wondered if he choked a little on the ‘her’.
“It’s good to have a scout,” said Adeline.
They continued on while I climbed down a drainpipe. Its fixing squeaked, rawl plugs in the mortar shaking. But I was quick, and light besides, and at ground level I ran past them, heading for the opposite bank of buildings. “Wait,” I said as I passed.
“We’re sitting ducks,” John protested.
“Do as she says,” said Dale. “Eyes peeled.”
The building opposite was a Tourist Information office with its blue ‘i’ sign attached to the redbrick above the ground floor window. Yellow plasterwork daubed lavish cornicing atop the windows and door, and a plaque above the entrance anointed it as having been built in 1953. I took a running leap and jumped straight the first floor windowsill. From there, I used the momentum to haul my feet to the sill and leapt again, skipping the second floor, straight up to the roof. It was all pitched up here, and I had to fight for a second to gain my footing on slate tiles, digging my left lion claws into a tile.
“What the...” said one of the twins down below. I looked ahead and saw the street was empty, then looked back over my shoulder. This wasn’t the time for make-believe or second chances; no more hiding if we were to all get out together. I gestured that they should continue, making an ‘okay’ sign. Dale practically had to shove them to get them moving again.
The next round of taps circulated, again weighted to be louder in the direction we were heading. The last few double-taps sounded a little different to my ear, perhaps a little quicker.
When the group were level with me, I strafed alongside, keeping to the front of the building. Not all the buildings on this street were terraced, so for the next one I had to leap a gap of about seven feet. An alley below lead to a terrace with overturned chairs and tables and broken glass. Faint scent of stale hop.
Below, the group had funnelled towards the middle again, keeping about ten feet between them and the buildings. Nothing smelled off. Nothing sounded off. Only thing moving was the group, and their footsteps seemed louder in this slightly narrower street.
I hurried ahead, still keeping as quiet as I could. I felt more secure than earlier; it would be more difficult for anything to hide on these rooftops, free of dormer windows as they were. The biggest fear was a slipped tile. So far so okay, though.
I jumped across to the next building and saw that we were heading to a T-section. Moving towards the corner and looking both ways, it wasn’t obvious which way we should go. I’d never considered how maze-like a town could be until that point – then again, I hadn’t been in a proper town before. Perhaps if you grew up in towns you developed a sixth sense for this kind of thing, similar to me and the farm and the nearby countryside.
How often did you have to have escape an ambush, though, back when the town’s were bustling? Hardly comparable situations.
Since I was on the left side of the new street, it made sense to ask the group to turn left at the T-junction. The street was narrower still, since it was a residential street with terraced two-storeys. Spattered cars lined the street, relics of metal and glass. Receptacles of filth and rust. I edged my feet to the last line of tiles and looked down, just as the group me the T. I pointed in the direction I wanted them to go, and they obeyed.
Tap-tap.
The group startled, as did I a bit. The distant taps were no longer so distant. And the nearest taps definitely weren’t. Dale waved at me and urged me on as they picked up the pace, half-jogging between the lines of cars. I did my best to keep pace but the pitch of the roof was obstructive – on two occasions a tile slipped out and I had to adjust. Luckily, my boots had good grip. As did I.
Tap-tap-tap.
We all froze, my heart pounding in my throat. That the double-tap had changed was the surest indication that they knew we were on the move, after hours and hours of repetition. The group looked up to me as one, as I looked down at them. Dale and Greg both held their hands up.
“Where are you leading us?” Dale asked. He didn’t raise his voice. As if he knew I’d hear.
I gestured for them to continue, just as the beat rang again, sooner this time. Picking up the momentum.
“Fuuuuck me,” Greg said. “Come on.”
We hurried along once more, with the street bending slightly around the left. I scurried to the peak of the roof and ran across the half-pipe tiling. One or two cracked under my foot, forcing me to slow down, for my own safety but also to keep my noise at a minimum. I noticed that we weren’t too far from open countryside; there were plenty of rooftops between it and us, but it was there, calling me, all green beyond the dark and shadowy buildings. Exact layout of the streets ahead was difficult to decipher – if only we could all fly as the crow did.
Tap-tap-tap.
The road turned into a cross section ahead, so I took a couple of risks and leaped ahead instead of running, so I could get there ahead of the group below. The rooftop merged with the corner building, its peak becoming an L. I slid down to the edge and peered over once more – a line of apex formed a barrier on the left, perhaps one hundred metres down the street. Likewise, in the opposite direction, another road block. As soon as I appeared they triple-tapped and the sound seemed to boom into my ears as it bounced from street to windshield to window and out into the sky. Tap-tap-tap. Crack-crack-crack.
Yes, it definitely sounded more like a crack now. Taps I could deal with. Cracks would smart.
Greg reached the crossing first, headlong, racing into the middle of the intersection and braking to a spinning stop once he noticed the apex; and the others practically ran into him.
I dropped down to the street on the blindside and ran up to them. “Have to keep going,” I said, racing ahead.
“No complaints here,” said Greg, on my tail.
Before I left the apexes’ sight, I glanced around and noticed they were taking steps forward.
Into the new street, I swept left and climbed once more to the roof, this time without comment. I trusted in the footfalls I heard in my wake that they were close behind, and hurried as quickly as I could, beginning to wish I could just drop the bag on my back, becoming a hindrance. I tightened the shoulder straps which had become loose from the exertion.
Crack-crack-crack.
Down below, the group were at my side, but behind them, the apex had group at the cross-section, around thirty in total. Rags and tatters and caked mud covering skin; brown and white and hairless heads, indistinct from this distance.
Greg and John lead the way, with the twins next and then Adeline being encouraged on by Dale. He kept glancing over his shoulder, and every time he did he seemed to skip a little lighter of foot, giving Adeline a little nudge, urging speed.
The apex were as patient as ever. Walking. Crack-crack-cracking. I noticed a few of them could barely contain excitement though, animalistic clacking and clicking sounding from their mouths. Underlying growls and putrescence.
Ahead, I could see a similar situation resolving again; another cross-section with a row of terraces spreading left, right and onwards. Only the leading street seemed to narrow even more; as I approached the end I could see a one-way sign. The street was indeed narrower.
The group were about
twenty feet behind me, so I turned and waved to catch their attention, then gave them the stop signal.
“Stop!” shouted Dale.
“What?” John shouted back.
Dale pointed up to me, and when they were all looking, I pointed forwards and sliced across my neck. Then I pointed at them and gave them the stop and wait signal. I’ll go ahead, I indicated. You wait.
They regrouped, turning to face their pursuers. The apex stopped in their tracks and cracked their clubs and batons three times, followed by an odd, short howl.
Let them stand-off for a minute, I thought, turning my attention to the next cross-section. I reached the terraced house peak, and the point the two met as an L, and spied tentatively down the right-hand road which was less obstructed. As I thought, there stood another line of apex, ready to go. They cracked their accessories as the circular echo restarted – the old distant apex that I’d thought we’d left behind were also nearer now, coming up our rear.
I shuffled left, along the rooftop. Prowling across on all fours. From the scent, I took a guess at six apexes standing down there, and moved along until I was beyond them. Then I inched towards the guttering, looking for a downpipe.
Three cracks were met by a gunshot – hopefully just Greg or Dale sending out a warning shot.
I found a downpipe and climbed down carefully, about twenty metres behind the line of apex; with their backs to me, their intimidation factor was reduced. They sported scars across their bare backs and buttocks, some of them hairier than others. Their shoulders were unnaturally bulky, neck muscles thick. Upper arms swollen. Calves and thighs primed, reminiscent of the kind of definition I’d seen in the lion. Perhaps mine were similar, if I thought about it.
My feet touched ground and I crouched.
Without doubt, the apex were funnelling us into an ambush situation; if the group carried on into that narrow, one-way street, these ones would fall in line behind. Not far beyond, judging by the cracks, was the dead end. There would be no more intersections.
There was another gunshot, this time followed by a screech and a cacophony of cracks. The line of apex in front of me began to take steps forward, but from somewhere, there was a very clear double-tap, and they halted.
More warning shots. Or perhaps they hit a target.
The apexes’ discipline was impressive.
I loosened the straps of my bag and shrugged it off, placing it on a windowsill. Still crouched, I could feel the revolver digging into my waist, and struggled with the next decision; to use it or trust in my instincts. There were indeed six apex, and they needed to be despatched so the group could come down this way.
A gunshot from me might be what breaks the apexes’ discipline, the last thing we needed right now.
On the other hand, it might encourage Greg’s gung-ho attitude to check out what was going on just around the corner, which might in turn help me.
I decided that keeping with the stealthy angle would be wisest, for now. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath; raised my adrenaline and heartrate. I tensed my leg muscles, feeling the deadly reminder in my calf with its gentle throb; took a few steps towards the apex.
Take caution.
I had to try and make sure to take one at a time.
Closer. Stink of corruption the only scent to exist.
I targeted the apex on the far right. Flexed my fingers. The claws looked razor-sharp, ready to strike. I was ready to strike, so when I was within six feet of it, I pounced onto its back and dragged the claws across its neck. I felt them slice through the remnants of an Adam’s apple; tear through muscle and sinew. Blood exploded onto the pavement as I yanked on its forehead with the other set of claws. Bubbles foamed from its exposed throat and a gush or escaping air had the sound effect of a quickly deflating paddling pool. It clawed feebly and my hand, digging in its own claws. I clamped teeth to its shoulder, drooling, biting. I bit my lip so a little of my blood would come out, infectious.
After about four seconds it lost the strength of its legs, and I pushed away from it, lunging to the next one. It was already on the charge and I met it half way, leading with my hand. Their tendency was to dive head-first, so I used that opportunity to gain leverage from its shoulders, slicing its neck and jumping to the next one along in one swift movement. The next one was only just turning, snarling and clacking as it saw me approach.
I landed on the ground in front of it and immediately leaped forward once more, keeping low this time. I aimed to slide through its legs but it jumped as I got near, straight up. It had been female once, and was about to land on me but I twisted out of the way, rolling on the ground. I noticed the second one had turned back around by now, almost oblivious to the spurting blood from the side of its neck. With number four now aware of the situation too, I had three of them bearing down on me.
Quickly, I ran the claws across my forearm, each side, and then jumped at number two again. Rapid flicks of my wrists against its flailing arms burned cuts into its skin from the poisoned claws. I slid out of the way of its final lunge, coming at me with snarling teeth. Paralysis hit it, though its eyes seemed to watch still, a depth of hunger within that I totally understood. It made their discipline even more admirable.
Numbers three and four growled, suddenly unsure, frozen in spot. Five and six beyond them hadn’t quite seen what had happened, so were on the charge. I must’ve looked like easy prey to them.
Three and four’s indecisiveness was just what I needed. I pulled the revolver from my waist and fired, twice into each one. Four headshots, since the distance was almost point-blank. At the shots, a chorus of screeches echoed across the town, joined by five and six. They clapped their clubs together in rapid succession, then threw them at me before charging once more. Bounding on all fours, they became more difficult shots; the nearest went down with a headshot but the one behind it received a glancing blow to its shoulder that did nothing to slow it down. It pounced, and I braced on my haunches to receive its embrace. It was almost sweet; the pure desire in its eyes. Perhaps that would be as close to desire for me that I’d ever see.
Mid-air, it lost its head as a bullet ripped through it. Something higher calibre than my small revolver.
At the intersection I saw Greg in a shooting stance, rifle against his shoulder. The blast still echoed around the terraced houses as I shouted; “Come on, this way.” Beckoning them on with my hands.
I rushed over to recollect my bag as the group caught up. They jogged through the massacre, stepping around bodies, some looking perplexed. Greg said; “You’re welcome,” while Dale appraised me and asked if I was okay.
“Fine.” My forearms were bleeding; I could taste blood in my mouth, and my hands were covered in it, both mine and the apexes. Between that and that and hardened gunk on my face and scalp, I must have looked a mess.
The fear I saw in John’s eyes, and the twins for that matter, said perhaps I looked more formidable and scary than a mess. Which was fine by me.
“We can’t stop,” said Adeline, panting. Her long grey hair was a long grey frizz about her head.
“They were pushing us into an ambush,” I said. “This way is our route. We have to be quick before they close us in again.”
On cue, there was a four-crack signal and a squalling roar that pierced my ears. Faces in the group turned petrified – True fear, I thought, much more than they had for me. I felt the vibrations of hundreds of apex suddenly running, and saw the ones gaining from the opposite junction.
“Gotta run,” said Dale. “Anything happens, we meet back at ground zero.” Ground zero being where we originally left the bags.
Without another word, we ran down the street. Rifles and handguns swung awkwardly. I shouted at Dale that I was out of ammunition, and he said there was no time to reload. I guess now also wouldn’t be the time to wax lyrical about Bessie’s flatbreads, but that’s one of the irrational thoughts that came to mind as I looked her way; she must survive! I had a couple of her flatbreads in my
bag and I suddenly had a craving for one. If I was back up on the roof I probably have eaten one.
A door smashed open on the right and an apex crashed into the street, hitting the side of a parked car. It jumped onto the roof and was immediate despatched by shots from Dale and John. More came crashing through the buildings up ahead, entering the street. Doors hung skewed on their hinges. Glass scattered across pavement.
Our speed didn’t stop; as we got closer shots from the shotguns boomed and the rifles swung to aim. I ran ahead to deal with any that might prove tricky. Up at the roofline I noticed silhouettes bounding along; some jumped down to windowsills then landed in the street. Dale shouted instructions: “Left!” or “On your right!” “Two o’clock!” “Fucking run!”
I somersaulted over an apex, gripping its head as I rotated over it, tearing it from its spine. Head in hand, I threw it like an American football towards an onrushing apex, distracting it enough that I could slide in below it and gut it with my poisoned claws.
“Fuck off!” Greg shouted as he blasted off a head.
Projectiles started raining from the rooftops overhead, thrown like spears. It was the clubs and pipes that they had been using to make their ringing endorsements; they clanged off tarmac and pavement, twanged off the roof of cars. One struck Elyse in the side and she yelped: Dale was straight to her side for support.
Behind, about twenty or thirty apex were on the chase.
Adeline was slacking and the frontrunners were almost upon her.
I halted and shouted; “Left! Through the houses! As the crow flies!” And sped to the rear, picking up a still-spinning pipe and arrowing it at an apex, just as it was about to stretch a claw at Adeline. I rushed to her side and put an arm around her, ushering her towards the nearest building. Her heart exploded beneath my fingertips, a timpani of terror; and her chest heaved hard. She aimed a handgun to our right and fired at an apex as it jumped down off a car. Struck in the gut, the apex was slowed, but not stopped.
“Quick, inside!” I said, pulling her along.
The Risen ( Part 2): The Risen, Part 2 Page 13
