Resistance (Book 2): Resistant

by Perrin Briar

  Hugo nodded.

  “Okay,” he said. “Then we’re really doing this? We’re facing the old witch. There’s no way I’m going back in that cage. Not in a million years.”

  “Then we’re on a one way trip,” Dana said. “We succeed, or we don’t come back.”

  Dana and Hugo crept through the darkness, keeping the silhouette of the door at the top of the steps in the center of their vision. It was only at the top of the stairs, as Dana prepared to push the door open, that light spilled down the stairs and onto the cages below.

  They arched their necks up. Upon laying eyes on Dana and Hugo, the human creatures began to screech. Dana couldn’t tell if the noises were out of elation or horror, but she did know she didn’t want Olga to hear it. She rushed into the corridor and shut the door behind Hugo.

  Dana put her hand to the wall and listened for anything that might give Olga’s location away. There was music—coming from a small radio with tinny speakers. Some kind of traditional east European folk music. Underneath it, barely audible, was enthusiastic humming in the back of a throat. It was coming from the kitchen.

  The old hag’s slim figure orchestrated pots and pans on the stove, waving a wooden spoon like it was a conductor’s baton.

  But Dana didn’t head straight for the kitchen. Instead, she spied down the corridor in the opposite direction. Dana cut across the corridor, gently pushing the living room door open. The curtains were drawn and the suitcases lay smashed open as they had before.

  “Weapons,” Dana whispered. “We want weapons.”

  They scrabbled amongst the items. They found their backpacks, and it was another full minute before they found the pile of weapons in the corner of the room. Dana and Hugo armed themselves with their assault rifles.

  Dana ejected the ammunition cartridge. There were bullets inside. She didn’t slap it back into place. She didn’t want to alert Olga to their location just yet. Hugo did likewise.

  They found their own knives too. Dana checked the weight to make sure it hadn’t been damaged. She tucked it into its sheath and put it on around her waist.

  They edged back toward the door that led to the corridor. Dana leaned over, peering toward the kitchen.

  Olga was no longer there.

  Dana’s heart was in her throat, but she did not panic. She turned to Hugo and shook her head. Hugo aimed in the direction of the door on the other side of the living room that would lead directly to the kitchen. Dana nodded. He was asking to take up a routing position. Hugo moved toward the door, his hand perched under the ammunition magazine, prepared to slap it into place so he could unleash hell.

  Dana stepped into the corridor, stepping slowly, slowly, toward the folk music. She got to the door, the music blaring. Dana took the risk and slapped the magazine into place. The noise was covered by the music. Dana edged into the kitchen.

  She rounded the corner, the most dangerous move she had to make as it left her open to anyone who might be waiting for her.

  She was phased for a moment as she took in the scene before her.

  Dexter was trussed up on the dining table, hogtied, an apple jammed in his mouth, tears streaming down his face. Olga was happily humming to herself in her native tongue. She was crushing herbs with a pestle and mortar, sprinkling them over the prostrate boy.

  Dexter’s expression changed the instant he spotted. Olga must have spotted the look of hope as she spun round.

  Olga reached for her pistol, lightning fast, but Dana’s index finger was faster, and a hole sprouted in Olga’s right shoulder, spinning her round. She fell to the floor. There was a snap noise, and Hugo stepped forward armed with his own rifle.

  Dana moved for the radio and switched it off. Sweet silence.

  Olga lay sprawled on the floor, one hand on her open wound, the other on her stomach. Within reach of both her pistol and knife. She was smart, tough, Dana thought. But she would not get out of this situation.

  Hugo stepped forward, extending his hand to reach for the pistol and knife. Olga’s body tensed, preparing to strike, to take advantage of this opportunity.

  “Don’t go near her,” Dana said. “She’s dangerous.”

  Hugo paused, and then pulled back, returning to his resting position. Olga’s body relaxed, the moment evaporating before her.

  “Come, I woman,” Olga said. “I not dangerous.”

  “You’re more dangerous than anything we’ve met so far,” Dana said. “You’re a monster.”

  “We are what world make us, are we not?” Olga said.

  “Except you were like this before the world went to shit,” Dana said. “How else can you explain how fat the kids are? You’ve been at this for months, maybe even years. At least something good has come from the apocalypse. We stopped you. Hugo, untie Dexter.”

  Dana kept her gun trained on the old crone. Dana could see what she was thinking. If she was going to do something, anything, then this was her chance—with just one gun on her and not two.

  Dexter grunted as his limbs were relieved. He took the apple out of his mouth and threw it at Olga.

  “Take that, bitch!” Dexter said.

  “No!” Dana said.

  But it was too late.

  The apple had already left Dexter’s hand and was flying toward the old crone. She was waiting for it, and took the apple on the forehead, knocking her back, to roll to the side. Except, Dana knew, she wouldn’t be empty handed when she completed her move.

  Dana squeezed off another round at the woman, and as the old hag turned, Dana could see that she had been right.

  Olga came up with her bloodied right hand, pistol clenched, coming round to aim at Dana. Dana didn’t know who this woman was, where she had come from or what had made her like this, but there was no question she was highly trained, and if they didn’t shut her down now, they would all be the ones on the cutting block, to become the next meal.

  Dana squeezed the trigger, aiming in the rough direction of the woman, and saw with grim relish the thud and spray of tiny geysers as the bullets slammed into Olga’s body.

  Her head snapped back in agony, knocking off her aim. But she squeezed off round after round, the bullets sinking into the hardwood of the walls and ceiling. Dana dived to one side, still squeezing the trigger, still pumping the old hag full of holes.

  Out of breath, Dana got to her feet, her rifle hanging by her side. The woman was covered in blood. She did not move, and was staring at something distant on the ceiling.

  “Dana!” Hugo said.

  Hugo embraced Dexter, who had two holes in his chest, dark red spreading across his tattered boy scout uniform. Dexter was too heavy for Hugo, and he fell to his knees, and then his shoulder. He rolled onto his back. He coughed up a wad of blood. He was going to die.

  “Did we get her?” Dexter said.

  “Yes,” Dana said. “We got her.”

  “Good,” Dexter said.

  He smiled, and it cut through the slabs of fat hanging from his chins.

  “My sister…” Dexter said.

  “Sh,” Dana said. “Don’t think about that now.”

  It was too gruesome for her to contemplate. Dexter’s sister had been ‘set free’ before, and that meant she had been cooked and then fed to the other inmates. One of whom was Dexter… The thought turned Dana’s stomach.

  “She wanted me to know my sister wasn’t set free,” Dexter said. “She wanted me to know. Can you believe that? She put Cherry’s ring in my gruel, so I would choke on it and see it had been her I just ate.”

  “Oh my God,” Hugo said, turning deathly pale.

  He looked like he was going to be sick.

  “I’m sorry,” Dexter said. “I didn’t know if I could trust you.”

  “You did the right thing,” Dana said. “You shouldn’t trust anyone.”

  That garnered a glance from Hugo, who was evidently hurt by the harsh words.

  “But I do,” Dexter said. “I trust you now.”

  It was fine
for him to trust them now, now they could have no effect on him or his life, Dana thought. His worries would soon be well and truly over.

  “Sh,” Hugo said. “Close your eyes and think of your sister. You’ll be with her soon.”

  “No, I won’t,” Dexter said. “But it’s okay. I want to die. I’m ready.”

  Dexter shut his eyes, a smile spreading across his face. It sagged a little as his eyes stopped twinkling with life and his body grew lax. He was gone.

  Chapter Twenty

  SILENCE in the kitchen, save for the bubbling of pans and the low hiss of the oven. Olga had been preparing a feast, one she would have fed to Dana and Hugo if they hadn’t stopped her.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Hugo said.

  “You took the words out of my mouth,” Dana said.

  “Yaarrrgghh!”

  Olga, running on pure will alone, bolted to her feet. How she could still function with such a massive loss of blood, Dana didn’t know. But a bullet in the brain ought to sort her out.

  Clack!

  Empty.

  Clack! Clack!

  Dana dropped her rifle, letting it hang from the strap. She pulled out the dagger from her waist. Olga did the same. She was going to die, but she sure as hell didn’t intend on going alone.

  Olga swung her knife. Dana drew a defensive pose and took the strike off her own blade, knocking it to the floor. Dana wouldn’t get a chance to retaliate. Olga brought her blade around to slice open her throat.

  Dana rolled with the movement, across the floor, and came up on her feet. Olga was already on her, slashing and slicing with her blade, the blood running from her lips.

  Dana lashed out with her rifle. Offense was the best defense, they said. Her rifle struck the woman in the face, and she stumbled back.

  Dana took aim with her rifle and pulled the trigger.

  Bang!

  The retort issued forth from Hugo’s rifle, and knocked Olga bodily to one side, smashing into the liquid-hot pan of boiling oil on the stove. Olga screamed in agony as the bubbling oil scorched her skin.

  But Olga still wasn’t dead, still hadn’t exacted her revenge. She wasn’t going to die, Dana realized. Not until they shut her down permanently.

  “Aim for her head!” Dana said.

  “I’m out!” Hugo said.

  Dana didn’t want to go hand to hand with Olga with knives. She was undead in all but spirit, and would feel none of the pain she could inflict upon her.

  Thinking fast, Dana pulled the door of the oven open.

  Olga rushed Dana, who sidestepped, jumped and performed an imperfect, but powerful, spinning kick that landed on the side of Olga’s head, knocking her sideways.

  She didn’t get time to recover, as Dana performed a front snap kick, forcing the old hag into the roaring oven. There was a loud clang! as her head struck the back.

  “Cook, bitch,” Dana said.

  Olga screamed, wailing, her arms and legs flailing. Gradually, as the room filled with the stink of overcooked meat, Olga’s writhing body finally came to a stop.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  THEY UNLOCKED Debbie’s cage first and moved her to the foot of the stairs. She was still unconscious, cold, and barely breathing. They needed to get her to a hospital, stat.

  Then Dana and Hugo moved from one cage to the next, unlocking them in turn. If they expected the inmates to rush out, they were to be poorly disappointed. The inmates shied back in their cages as far back as they could, like timid animals.

  “You can leave now,” Hugo said. “There’s no more Olga. She’s dead, gone. You don’t need to fear her anymore.”

  But the inmates didn’t move, didn’t make a sound.

  “Why aren’t they leaving?” Hugo said. “I’d be out like a shot from here if I could.”

  “But you haven’t been in here as long as they have,” Dana said. “You come to rely on these cages. It’s your world. You don’t work, you don’t struggle. You just eat and sleep. After a while it becomes your preferred way of life. And what chance do they stand out in the world now anyway? What chance would they have stood if they weren’t in here? The world is a dangerous place, and the worst thing you can be right now is a kid, alone.”

  “But they aren’t alone,” Hugo said. “They have each other.”

  “And I’m sure they’ll work together just as well as they did when they relied on each other in here with Olga over them,” Dana said.

  It was a sobering thought. These kids were malformed, maladjusted, fat, and would make a delicious meal for the undead outside. Dana wished them all the best, but she would not be their babysitter.

  It went some way to show how Hugo had evolved over the past few weeks when he didn’t insist they take the kids with them. He certainly would have done before. He had hardened his heart. He might yet still learn to survive in this brave new world of theirs, Dana thought.

  They picked up Debbie’s limp body and carried it up the steps. Dana couldn’t resist turning to look back to see if any of the emaciated kids had left their cages yet. She wasn’t surprised to find they hadn’t. She shook her head. It was a waste, and she hated Olga for doing this to them.

  They got to the top of the stairs to find the corridor choked with smoke. It was black and came from the kitchen. Olga’s body was now aflame, and it was spreading to the lounge. Soon, to the rest of the house. It would be the only chance they could have of getting out of there, Dana knew. If fire wouldn’t stimulate the entrapped kids from attempting an escape, nothing would.

  They ran for the front door. Dana shifted her load and pulled back the deadbolts, unclipped the other locks, and opened the door.

  When they had entered the cursed house there had been the beginnings of a battle taking place between the military and undead. Now, the street was silent. But it was not empty.

  The street was strewn with the default undead and crushed bodies of the embattled. It had evidently been a bloody affair. Dana was relieved that she had managed to avoid the worst of it. But she would have endured almost anything rather than have to go through what she’d had to go through in Olga’s dungeon.

  And that’s what it was: a dungeon. A place of torture and danger. A place for tortured souls that were only there because they allowed themselves to be. If only they’d teamed up, had worked together to overthrow Olga… But they hadn’t. It would be their destruction too.

  Pop!

  Pop pop pop!

  Gunshots. In the distance.

  Dana and Hugo wouldn’t need to worry so long as they kept their wits about them.

  They stepped into the street, careful to avoid the blood as much as possible, though that was proving a difficult task considering how much there was sprayed all over the place.

  It was like a movie production designer had been commissioned to create a warfare set that had occurred just after the battle for the Earth had taken place. They had succeeded. It was a death scene for hope.

  “You think those soldiers are still fighting them?” Hugo said.

  “I think they’ll always be fighting them,” Dana said. “We all will.”

  It was a sobering thought. The human race had unleashed this hell upon itself, only had themselves to blame. And now here they were, forced to confront it. Human development had come to an end.

  The fire would be raging throughout the house in short order, and then the street, and then the rest of the city. Had they just started another inferno that would rage through the city? Is this how the first one had started? If it was, Dana wasn’t sure she wanted to know the truth of its origin.

  The air was clean, fresh and cool. It filled Dana’s heart, lungs and mind in equal measure. There was nothing quite like the taste of freedom after being locked away.

  “Sounds like the fighting’s happening in the direction we want to go,” Hugo said.

  “Yeah, I noticed that,” Dana said.

  She sighed. It was always the way. Things couldn’t go simply, easily, not when ther
e was the opportunity for an obstacle to be put in their way.

  “We could go to another hospital,” Hugo said.

  “The next closest one is miles away,” Dana said. “And who knows what we’ll run into between here and there in that time.”

  “But we know what we’ll run into going this way,” Hugo said. “A frickin’ warzone!”

  “Better the devil you know,” Dana said.

  “Unless he’s worse than you can imagine,” Hugo said.

  What else was there for it? No doubt there were other hospitals around, but were they this close? They were no more than one or two blocks away from the Children’s Hospital.

  “We’re wasting time,” Dana said. “And Debbie doesn’t have long left.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  THE GUNSHOTS were coming north east of their location, just around the block. They appeared not to be moving, in a stalemate situation.

  Every few minutes there was a terrific thud that shook the ground and made the leaves on the trees shake. Dana could feel the change in air pressure too, like a giant’s footsteps thudding the earth.

  “We have to go around the corner?” Hugo said. “Into the line of fire? We’re never going to survive passing through a warzone. Especially not with the way we look now.”

  They were certain to be mistaken for the undead. And them carrying an uninfected body? In the frenzy of battle they would have looked like they were attempting to feed on her. What were they to do?

  Dana saw the solution. They were lying in puddles of blood on the street.

  “The MOPP suits!” Dana said.

  “What about them?” Hugo said.

  Dana lay her load down. Hugo followed suit. Dana was already moving for one of the fallen soldiers.

  “We wear these MOPP suits,” Dana said. “We’ll just look like a pair of soldiers carrying a survivor we found.”

  Hugo’s eyes widened. It was so obvious, so simple.

  “It just might work,” he said.