by Lundy, W. J.
“Who’s in there?” the man said.
Jacob eased back the pistol and held his breath.
“Come on now, I know someone’s in there; I see your stuff on the bed.”
Jacob held the pistol with both hands and sighted on the hole. He let his thumb quietly click off the safety then cock the hammer on the pistol, holding his breath.
“Whoa, okay now, I heard that; let’s take it easy in there,” the man said.
“Take it easy like you did on the boy and the girl?” Jacob asked, breaking the silence, trying to make his voice sound raucous.
“Come on now, I’m the only thing keeping them alive. The boy’s got some growing up to do; I’m just trying to toughen him up.”
“Yup, that’s your business and you can keep it out there,” Jacob said. “What do you want?”
“What do you got?”
Jacob forced a laugh, wanting the man to think he wasn’t afraid, even though he was. He relaxed his shoulders and kept the gun aimed at the door. He could no longer see the man’s eye but from the deflection of his voice, Jacob knew he was still resting in front of the door.
“You can have anything out there. I don’t have enough in here to share. Take what you need, stay the night, but in the morning, you need to be gone.”
“Oh, come on now, you ain’t left us shit out here. We gonna need something more. What you got? Food? Some water maybe?”
“What I got is a big-ass shotgun aimed at your head,” Jacob bluffed. “I already made you my best offer. Take it or leave it.”
Frank let out an exaggerated sigh. “Mister, I think we got off on the wrong foot here. We’re all on the same side. I just need a little to keep us going. Hell, give us some of what you got, and maybe you can come with us. Lord knows I could use someone like you; that kid sure as hell ain’t no help.”
Jacob had no intention of letting the man in, but he wanted information from him. It was the first contact he’d had with anyone from the outside in days.
“Where are you going?” Jacob asked, intentionally leading the man on.
“The park; word is that it’s safe there. The military is running an evacuation,” Frank said, relaxing his voice. Jacob heard the sound of a lighter as he lit another cigarette.
“Where did you hear this?” Jacob asked.
“State cop, two days ago,” Frank answered.
“Bullshit, I haven’t seen a cop since this all started.”
“There’s still some out there, mister. They stick to the highway, mostly. Won’t go into the neighborhoods anymore.”
“Then how is it you saw one?” Jacob asked suspiciously.
Frank grunted. “Stupid story, really. I actually made it the hell out of here… well, almost. My sister talked me into going back for her dumbass kid. The troopers had school buses up at the old high school, evacuating people. I got my family there, my sister and her little ones, but the woman refused to get on the bus. She begged me to go back for that one downstairs.
“I guess I am as stupid as he is for letting her talk me into it. Kid was holding up at the house with his girlfriend. I got ’em out of there, but shit was too far gone by the time we got back on the road. The siren that was going suddenly shutting off really screwed us. Seems like they’re more active now than ever and running in those large groups.”
“Have you… have you killed one?” Jacob asked.
A long pause. Jacob could hear Frank inhale deeply on the cigarette and let out a muffled cough. “Yeah, I’ve killed some. You?”
“Yeah,” Jacob answered.
“Did you know them?”
“I knew the last ones; they were kids from up the street, but… but they were different,” Jacob muttered.
“They weren’t the people you thought they were. I’m not sure what’s happening, but they aren’t the same. This is no riot, brother; it's not civil unrest or revolution like the radio said. Shit ain’t right out there—something’s wrong, really wrong. I killed an old lady. She lived up the street from us, used a walker, and rarely left her front yard. That old bitch ran at me like a kid in her twenties. It’s not right; that's not possible. I heard folks saying they from outer space, like an invasion!”
Jacob thought back to the blood on his hands, how it curled against the concrete floor. “That’s nuts; I mean, Aliens? Really? No, it’s not possible, right?” Jacob answered.
“Really? It ain’t so crazy if you really stop to think about it.”
“You said you knew the old lady, so how could she be from outer space?” Jacob asked unable to hide the sarcasm from his voice.
“Well… maybe not aliens, but shape shifters, something… That old woman, she wasn’t an old woman anymore, she even smelt differ—”
A large crash at the front of the house caused Jacob to jump. He gripped the pistol again and brought it up. “What was that?” Jacob asked.
Another large crash followed by the scream from the girl downstairs—they were at the house.
“Come on, mister, you got to open this damn door!”
“What did you do? You brought them here!” Jacob shouted.
Sounds of shattering glass erupted from downstairs.
“I have to help them; when I get back you need to let us in!” Frank yelled.
Jacob heard Frank running down the stairs yelling, “I’m coming, Joey; hold on, boy!”
The yelling continued, Frank’s voice now enraged, shouting to the others. Jacob turned to his wife sitting behind him. “Get Katy to the attic.”
“Come with us,” Laura pleaded.
“I’ll be right behind you. I have to help them.”
Jacob moved closer to the door to listen. He heard the screams outside and more glass breaking below, followed by a shotgun blast. He reached for the drill to remove the screws. The house below him shook as windows exploded; he knew there was nothing he could do for them. Jacob ran to the closet where Laura was struggling to get the barely conscious Katy up the shelving.
He took his daughter from Laura and helped his wife up the shelf, using his shoulders to try to boost her up. He climbed as high as he could, then passed Katy to Laura through the hole in the ceiling and scrambled up after them. The house was shaking violently as he pulled himself up through the ceiling joists. He quickly moved to the center of the attic and kept his wife and daughter behind him as he looked over the access hole.
“We have to help them,” Laura said, her voice trembling.
“There is nothing we can do for them, there’s just too many.” Jacob whispered.
He shook his head and grabbed his wife and daughter in a tight hug as he listened to the screams below. Gunfire from the first floor, barely audible above the roar of the things bursting into his home, found its way through the rooms. The walls shook as it felt like hundreds of them must be pouring through his house. Jacob watched nervously while the ceiling joists swayed and rattled under the load of the things below. He left his wife’s side and crawled across on his belly to the gable vent, wanting to see how many there were. He pressed his eye against the opening and peered into the street.
The front yard and the street were filled with them. Shoulder to shoulder, they crowded and pushed their way into his home. The house heaved and shook with protest in rhythm to the movement of the mass. Jacob watched in fascination as the screaming suddenly stopped. The creatures halted their forward momentum and slowly withdrew. As quickly as they had massed, they collectively dispersed back into the shadows. The remaining ones in his home slowly bled back into the street. Jacob saw a tall man cradling the young girl’s body, then another carrying the boy. Several others vacated the home before he witnessed the gruff man called Frank being dragged away.
“Where are they taking them?” Jacob whispered.
Thunder filled the night air as bold lightning strikes flashed in the distance. The flashes filled the bedroom with light through the gaps in the drapes, a strobe of patterns that played tricks on his mind as he watched the door. La
ura was curled into the fetal position beside him, cradling Katy as they slept in the center of the bed. Jacob held the rifle in his hand, splitting his time watching the bedroom door and peeking through the window. He tried to sleep, but every slap of thunder thrust him awake so hard it made his chest hurt.
Two hours had passed since the things left the house without even trying the second floor, never even moving to the steps. They kept all of their focus on the visitors below, and the pack left with them in their clutches. Jacob had watched them move away and vanish from the street, leaving things as if they’d never been there. He’d then waited until he was sure the things were gone before returning his family to the bedroom.
Jacob lay on the bed, listening to the sound of raindrops beating on the roof, the cadence slowly increasing as the storm intensified and moved over them. He let his feet touch the floor and moved to the window. Pulling back the drapes, he saw that the street was filling with water. Without power, the pumps would be down, and basements would soon backup. The cars were still there; the dead man’s body hanging out and soaked in the pouring rain. He looked across the street at the ruins of Smitty’s home.
Jacob thought of Frank’s story of the evacuation at the school. How he had to go back for his nephew himself. There was no rescue; they had to do it on their own. “Nobody’s coming,” he whispered. “Nobody.”
A stirring in the bed snapped his gaze from the street. He turned and watched as Laura propped herself up on one arm and looked at him. “Anything?” she asked.
Jacob shook his head and closed the drape before walking back to the bed. He sat down lightly at the edge, close enough that Laura could put an arm on his shoulder. A loud rolling of thunder rattled the house, and Jacob flinched with the noise. “Come to bed; lie down with us,” Laura whispered. “There’s nothing you can do.”
Chapter Five
There was a distant, low rumbling noise and muffled voices when Jacob opened his eyes. He imagined it was a dream until he heard them again, along with the growl of a diesel engine. He jumped from the bed and hurried to the window. Down the street, he saw a small military convoy moving slowly and deliberately. Green painted trucks, with men walking along beside them, headed in Jacob’s direction. The convoy stopped just in front of his wrecked car.
A Humvee, with a man standing in the turret over a large machine gun, led two large transport vehicles. As soon as they stopped, more soldiers dismounted the vehicles and stood near the curbs with their rifles out. Ignoring the destroyed homes, another group of soldiers ran to the remaining intact front doors, pounding on them and calling out for survivors.
Jacob watched in amazement as homes that he’d presumed were abandoned opened their doors. People were guided out and they hurried to line up at the backs of the trucks. Soldiers tossed in bags and helped men, women, and children climb steps to board the vehicles.
Rescue! They’re here! Jacob thought.
“Now! We have to go now!” Jacob yelled, jumping to his feet and waking his wife.
Grabbing the cordless drill, he removed the screws from the door as quickly as he could.
He grabbed the rifle, slung it across his back, and placed the pistol in its holster. His wife was fumbling with the backpack. Jacob grabbed it from her and put it over her shoulder, then lifted Katy. He grabbed Laura by the wrist and pulled her behind him as he ran for the stairs. He rushed for the already open front door, weaving through the overturned furniture and stepping over the remains of the splintered front door. Jacob worried when he saw that the trucks were nearly full. He called out and caught the attention of a soldier who was near his porch.
“Show me your eyes!” the soldier ordered, aiming the rifle.
Jacob stopped and raised his hands staring at the soldier. “We’re okay, we are all fine.”
The soldier looked them over and pointed a gloved finger at Katy lying in Jacob’s arms. “What’s with the little one?”
“She is just sick; she needs a doctor.”
The soldier stepped in and looked at Jacob closely then down at Katy. He frowned sympathetically and nodded his head. “Okay. Quickly, we gotta keep moving.” The soldier then yelled over his shoulder, “We got three more over here.”
Jacob rushed his wife and daughter ahead of him to the back of the first transport. A soldier was just beginning to close the canopy. “Sorry, sir, this one is full; try the other truck.”
Jacob looked at the man in shock. He knew there would be no arguing with him, so he grabbed his wife’s arm and dragged her to the second transport.
The soldier had already removed the stepladder and closed the gate, but when he looked at Jacob and Katy, his mouth dropped upon seeing the sick girl. “It’s okay. We can make room. Lift her up!” he said, locking eyes with Jacob.
Jacob lifted his daughter at the back gate. Someone grabbed her and pulled her on board the truck. He could hear Katy’s screams as he lost sight of her. He hugged his wife and went to lift her over the tailgate. From above, a man in a flannel shirt put his hand in her face and pushed her away. “Truck is full, man!” he yelled.
A second soldier stepped forward, put a hand on Jacob’s shoulder, and said, “It’s okay; you two can walk with us.”
“My daughter is alone in there,” Jacob yelled. “Just let my wife on.”
He turned and looked at Laura. “Don’t worry, I’ll find you,” he said before he lifted her again.
The soldier helped lift Laura, and as she grabbed the top of the truck’s tailgate, a woman on board grabbed her hand and tried to help pull her in. The man in flannel again came forward; he tried to peel Laura’s fingers from the gate then went to push an open palm to her face. “I said the truck is—”
Not allowing him to finish, Jacob let go of his wife and grabbed the man’s wrist. He lifted his leg to the tailgate and pulled back.
The flannelled man lost his balance and tumbled head first from the bed of the truck and out to the street. Hitting hard against the pavement, he lay motionless. Jacob watched as his wife was lifted up and over the tailgate. A soldier moved Jacob aside and began fastening down the canopy as shots erupted from behind them. Jacob spun to see a black-eyed man sprinting toward them, but—already—soldiers were online, firing. Jacob watched as the thing dropped and rolled to the ground as more fast-moving runners came into view from down the street.
“Go, go, go,” a soldier yelled, slapping the side of the truck. He then turned Jacob around and, pushing him forward, said, “Let’s go, friend, keep up.”
Jacob stared as the truck slowly moved away. With the gunfire erupting all around him and not knowing what else to do, he chased after it. He watched as the soldiers fell in beside him, turning often to check their rear for pursuers. They were moving fast but not fast enough; the truck was pulling away and the mob was closing on them.
Jacob heard screams of agony as the swarm overcame the man in flannel. The soldiers stopped; one of them grabbed Jacob and turned him toward the center of a quickly forming protective ring. Jacob looked at his surroundings and realized he was the last civilian remaining on the street, encased in the human shield provided by this group of soldiers. Hearing the screams and seeing the black eyes approach, Jacob swung the rifle from his back and held it tightly in his arms.
“Make ’em count, boys!” a soldier yelled.
The soldiers fired with chaotic precision. Jacob watched them take quick shots into the crowd and work as a team, covering each other as another reloaded. Jacob moved to an edge and prepared to fire but was quickly pushed back to the center. Once the initial wave was cut down, the men were back on their feet, shouting orders, and directing Jacob in the direction the trucks had gone. The mob began to close in again; Jacob saw the Humvee as it circled back over the sidewalk and lawns. Its engine at a high roar, it raced past them and skidded to a stop in the street. With the Humvee shielding them from the advancing swarm, the big gun on its roof let loose a barrage. A thump, thump, thump resonated from the big gun up in
the turret, ripping the charging mass apart.
Following the soldiers, Jacob ran and took cover behind the Humvee with two other men. The big gun cut down wave after wave of the charging forms while other soldiers covered the sides and backs. The gunfire became deafening; it disoriented Jacob, and he put his hands to his ringing ears. When the gunner stopped firing, the street was suddenly quiet. Jacob turned and saw through the billowing blue smoke that the transports had moved on in the chaos.
The tight mass of soldiers began reloading magazines while holding their position and watching the surrounding neighborhood. Jacob felt lost in the group, and he looked to the soldier next to him. The man was middle aged—maybe late thirties—and looked like he hadn’t slept for days. His weather-beaten face was dirty and stubbly with the makings of an early beard. He wore a tattered army uniform; the sleeves were torn, and there was a long rip in one pant leg of his trousers. The man’s knees and elbows were covered in dirt and blood.
“Where did they go?” Jacob asked.
Pushing loose bullets into a magazine, the soldier replied, “Back to the park. We’re staging folks there before moving everyone north.” The soldier finished with his task and looked up at Jacob. Seeming to notice the way Jacob looked him over, he continued, “Yeah, I ain’t much to look at; it’s been a rough week.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”
The solder waved his hand, dismissing Jacob’s apology. “You know, I saw what you did back there,” the soldier said. “The man on the truck.”
“I won’t apologize. He wouldn’t let my wife on the truck,” Jacob said.
“Yeah… he was an asshole. I’ve lost a lot of good men the last few days. I won’t be shedding any tears for that one,” the soldier replied and then extending a gloved hand. “By the way, my name’s Murphy.”
