El Paso Under Attack - 01

by Michael Clary

  I needed to do something and I need to do something fast.

  I was getting frantic. I had about zero good idea’s coming to mind. Still, I refused to let that defeatist voice that was scratching at the back of my mind come forth. Dudley was screaming in my earpiece. The zombies had overtaken the bottom floor. My friends were trying to organize a defensive. Obviously, they knew where I was, but they couldn’t help me. They had their hands more than full and Kingsley was separated from the rest of them, never having made it out of the bottom floor.

  Things were going bad.

  Things were going real bad.

  Suddenly, everything clicked together in my mind.

  It was like someone had just clicked a light switch. I peered over the rubble and debris of broken seats. I watched as Max made his way around my cover, always keeping himself behind something.

  I could see where he was going. He was trying to make it to one of his renovated open spaces where a bunch of those tricky chains hung from the ceiling. I waited patiently. Or at least as patiently as I could…I’ve never exactly been known for having a lot of patience.

  “Jax,” said Mr. Hardin in my earpiece. “You need to do something and you need to do something quick. If Max gets to that open space, he’ll have a clear shot at you.” There was a clear note of panic in Mr. Hardin’s voice, but he wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know.

  His words made Dudley freak out. He started asking over and over again whether or not I was alright. I couldn’t answer him, I was busy. I wanted to chance a look at Skie as well, but I couldn’t do that either. No distractions.

  Finally, Max entered the clearing.

  Before he could even think about shooting me, I opened fire at the ceiling. I couldn’t make out my targets; it was way too dark up there. Instead, I shot rapidly in wide groupings. Max was confused for a moment and didn’t return fire. It was his mistake, I finally hit something. Clear fluid poured from the ceiling.

  For a second, my heart skipped a beat. I thought I hit another water source. That’s all I needed at the moment… to give the bastard another boost of healing. Then the liquid landed on his head. He screamed for all he was worth. He screamed and clutched at the skin literally melting off of his skull.

  The liquid was acid. I got what I wanted; I dropped one of his own booby traps on top of him. I think I chanced a little bitty smile as I watched him writhe around on the ground for awhile. It didn’t take him long to master his pain. Not long at all. Before I would have thought it possible, he was moving again, crawling towards a certain chain.

  I waited till he found the right one and pulled. I was worried that my body might not respond to my commands when I willed it to move, but I was lucky. Despite all the blood loss, the will to live was as great as ever.

  As soon as Max pulled the chain and water began to heal him, I had tumbled over the debris of my cover and limped as fast as I could right towards him. I was lucky that he was either in so much pain or blinded, because he didn’t even notice my approach until I grabbed a hold of him around the ribs in a crushing bear hug.

  The only thing is, the bear hug wasn’t an attack…I was just trying to hold on as the water began to pour over me as well. I could feel my wounds closing up. I could see the skin re-growing on Max’s ugly face.

  Then, he realized what I was doing. He realized that I wasn’t attacking. He realized that I was getting stronger. He tried to throw me off, but my grip was too strong. He tried to knee me in the balls, but I already had my leg twisted in front of me to block him.

  This wasn’t a gentle cascade like the first water source that he had used to heal himself. This seemed to have tapped into the water main of the building. It was like taking a shower of health. I loved it. Max however, did not.

  He tried a head butt, but I was expecting this as well. I lowered my head just enough that the impact broke his nose. He screamed and became frantic to injure me. Too bad for him, I was feeling a lot better.

  I speared my fingers into his right eye and before he had even finished screaming, he managed to kick me square in the jaw. Under the pouring water, I barely even caught the vaguest hint of stars before they vanished and my sight became clear. We began to punish each other, trading blows and kicks, neither one of us bothering to block. Under normal circumstances, the damage we were inflicting would have brought either one of us to our knees, but the water was still pouring and we were still underneath it. He was healing as soon as I was damaging him and likewise for me.

  Finally, we both shoved each other out of the water at the exact same time.

  I slid backwards about five feet using my hands and knees on the floor to keep my balance. As soon as I came to a stop, I rose fully and faced my opponent. As soon as he had finished rolling backwards in a controlled somersault, he rose to his feet as well. We stared at each other for a moment. He was about to say something and I dove for his legs. A perfect takedown, now I was on top of him and the water was behind us…I began to pummel his face with bloody results.

  “I’m confused…I thought he was better than you. I thought he was faster than you. How were you able to dominate and abuse him like this?”

  Typical military arrogance, Max was faster than me and stronger and certainly better at using his powers. But, what most folks in the military never seem to realize is that they don’t have the necessary skills to defend against a trained ground fighter in an unarmed fight.

  “Ground fighter?”

  Someone that will take their opponent off of their feet and attack them on the floor…I excel at this type of fighting. The military doesn’t train for this type of fighting, except for the basics and they don’t really need to… they have guns. However, as an instructor that deals mainly in ground fighting, I’ve worked with soldiers before. I know for a fact that this is their weak area.

  “You were hoping to take the fight to the ground.”

  I was hoping for a chance to compete my skill against his strength and speed. I never bothered to mention it to anyone, because you can never tell someone from the military that they lack ground fighting skills. They’ll just argue with you, but I was really hoping to get my hands on him. I knew if I could do that, I’d bring the fight into my world.

  I could also tell from the shock on Max’s battered face, that this knowledge was new to him as well. He looked as if he couldn’t believe what was happening to him. I wanted to laugh at him. I settled for breaking his arm.

  I rolled away when I saw him pull out the bowie knife with his good arm. I wasn’t happy about it, I wanted to punish him and he still had plenty of bones left. At least his gun had fallen from his hands when the acid hit his face, so it wasn’t like I was in danger of being shot anymore. I hate being shot

  He growled his rage at me and rose to his feet.

  I pulled my knife and we charged each other.

  He was good with the knife. He managed to slice me about three times before I severed his femoral artery. This shocked him as well. I don’t think he actually thought I knew my way around a blade.

  “Have you had training with a knife?”

  Almost an entire life’s worth. I’ve been training with knives since I was a little kid. It wasn’t until much later that I learned there were actually martial arts styles based on the use of a knife. As soon as I found out though, I happily started studying the art. I think I was in my mid twenties.

  Max threw me away from him in a flood of rage. He was definitely strong. I think I flew about fifteen feet before I smacked into the nearest wall.

  Before either of us could make another move, the sound of gunshots echoed through the corridors outside the many doors of the theater.

  “Looks like my soldiers found your friends,” said Max with a grunt as he began to tie off the wound on his leg with a piece of shirt.

  “Your men are dead jackass,” I replied. “That’s the sound of what you would call suppressive fire.”

  Max listened again as the gunshots boo
med from beyond the doors of the theater.

  “I’m going to kill you.”

  “Not likely,” I answered.

  The dipshit had thrown me right next to where my tomahawk had been stuck in the wall. I watched him hobble over to where the water was still pouring from the ceiling and right when he was about to get wet, I threw the tomahawk.

  The tomahawk flew through the air like a spinning missile. Max was barely able to duck out of the way. For the first time, I saw fear in his eyes.

  With my friends still screaming in my ear, I charged him like a runaway freight train. His knife pierced my side, I lost my own blade as we fell to the ground…but I once again had my hands on him.

  I worked on his still broken arm. It was his weak point. He screamed out loud as I taught him how to suffer. I twisted his injured arm into new and exciting positions as he screamed and screamed. I almost looked like he was about to give up, but he suddenly remembered his bowie knife still sticking in my side. He gave it a twist and this time I threw him into the wall as a result.

  It wasn’t a great move on my part. I just gave the bastard some distance. It was what he wanted. It was what he needed to win the fight, but fortunately I had a pretty good idea what he was going to do before he resumed his attack.

  I can’t tell you how happy I was to be right.

  “He went for the water again didn’t he?”

  He sure did and I rushed forward to meet him.

  We collided like rams underneath the pouring water. He still had his knife and once again tried to drive it into my side. I blocked the swing and drove my fist into his armpit. He screamed and then he laughed. The water was healing him too fast to inflict any major damage without a weapon. I also believe that he healed faster than me, so add that up to another reason for why this was so freaking difficult.

  I grabbed his head with both of my hands and brought it down to meet my knee. I nailed him like this about twice when I discovered that not only had his broken arm healed, he also managed to switch hands on his knife.

  It caught me by surprise. I was still worrying about the other hand. He buried the blade into my ribcage. I dropped to my knees in shock. He took a small moment to gloat and slowly raised his bowie knife with both hands above his head for the death blow.

  As soon as he began the motion of bringing the knife down, I went for my new pocket knife. As I pulled it from my pocket, the blade engaged. I stood up inside the arc of his swing where it was safe and stabbed him in the throat.

  He made a choking sound and staggered backwards. I pulled him to me again and slide the blade back and forth across the soft skin of his throat. His eyes went wide in shock and fear. His body went rigid as I quickly ducked low and severed both of his femoral arteries before piercing his navel and dragging the blade up to his sternum.

  For one second, we eyed each other and before the rushing water could heal the vast amounts of damage I had just inflicted, I kicked him away.

  I watched him flounder around for just a moment as I stood under the rushing water and let the last of my injuries mend together. He didn’t struggle very long. The damage was too severe. The blood was literally pouring out of his body.

  He tried to rise, fell back down, tried to rise once more, fell back down and just as quick as that, it was over. Max was dead.

  I rushed towards Skie and cut the ropes holding her to the chair. She grabbed a hold of me instantly and began smothering me with kisses.

  “I thought he was gonna win,” she gasped. “When he stabbed you that last time…I thought he was gonna win.”

  “Well next time leave the thinking to me,” I answered with a laugh.

  “Jerk, how about I kick your ass?” she squealed.

  “Later, right now I wanna get the hell out of here.”

  I took her hand and made my way towards my fallen tomahawk and knife. After picking those up, I gave my earpiece a tap.

  “Mr. Hardin,” I said. “How about sending a chopper to come pick us all up, I’m in the mood for a cheeseburger.”

  “I’m already in route Jaxon,” he answered. “I should be there in about five minutes. Light a flare on roof for the pilot please.”

  Just then, the doors burst open and Dudley charged in spraying bullets everywhere. I shoved Skie to the floor and hopped on top of her just in case any strays found their way towards us.

  “Stop shooting Tex,” I shouted.

  Fortunately for us, Dudley did as I asked.

  “Did I get him?” said Dudley.

  “Sure,” I answered. “Good thing you came when you did. I don’t know what we would have done without your well aimed and excellent shooting.”

  “Oh, I get it,” responded Dudley in a temper tantrum. “I fight my way all the way over here, just to help you out and you wanna be a smart ass about it. How about you bite me, how about that?”

  “I’ll settle for getting out of here,” I answered. “Have you guys found Kingsley yet?”

  “Sure did, he was hiding in a broom closet. It took him a while to figure out how to use his shotgun.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah, he couldn’t figure it out. So after his pistol ran out of bullets and he went for the shotgun…well, let’s just say that the zombies were so close, he had to hide in a broom closet till we came to get him.”

  “Tell me it wasn’t the safety button,” I demanded.

  “I’m not saying anything,” answered Dudley with a laugh and a nod.

  Both of us drew and aimed our weapons as Javie and Kingsley burst through the same door Dudley had just come from.

  “We gotta go,” said Kingsley in a breathless voice. Damn that boy needs to quit smoking. “They’re coming up right behind us.”

  Without another word, we ran to the stage and through the doors in the back. Kingsley was in the rear and just as he was about to enter the door, the zombies began to flood into the theater. There were hundreds of them, all screaming for our flesh.

  Skie began to panic. I felt her tense up next to me as she heard their howls of rage and smelled their decaying skin.

  “Don’t worry,” I shouted. “We’ve been through this more than a few times. Just don’t freeze up.”

  I didn’t hand her a gun. I didn’t want her shooting any of us. Instead, I kept her right next to me and hauled ass through the maze of corridors until we could back track our way to the roof.

  The zombies were right behind us the entire way. I certainly didn’t like the situation, there was no room to maneuver and I definitely didn’t want to let Skie out of my sight. So, we shot over our shoulders and kept on moving forward.

  It took much longer than it should have, but in our defense, we weren’t exactly familiar with the building…anyway, we finally made it back to the control room with all the computers and the dead body of Max’s thug.

  Skie screamed when she saw him.

  “Forget about him,” I shouted while I closed the door behind us. “Get up in that air duct and start moving.”

  “Is that the same air duct you used earlier to gain access?”

  Yeah, but getting out of there wasn’t going to be that easy. Javie and Kingsley barely fit through the opening. I actually had to pound and bend the metal with my fists to make it wider for them. Kingsley was barely through when the door bust open and the room was filled with zombies.

  Fortunately, they couldn’t reach the air duct or they would have been crawling after us. However, when we finally got to the roof…either Dudley, Javie or Kingsley had forgotten to close the access door behind them and we had company waiting for us.

  “Oh no, it never seems to stop.”

  When it rains it pours. I pulled Skie out of the way of the nearest zombie and shot it in the head. Javie popped off a flare. Fortunately, the chopper was already in the area circling.

  We fired and fired the few rounds we had left as it landed far away from the zombies. With Skie at our backs, we pulled our blades and fended them off as we backed up t
owards the chopper.

  Their screams brought reinforcements and in a few moments the roof was covered with screaming zombies. I can’t tell you what a relief it was when the gigantic machine guns of the helicopter started mowing them all down. The roar of the spinning barrels was deafening, but damn, it was just about the nicest sound I’d heard in a good long while.

  I was the last in the chopper and more than a little shocked to see Clara the gypsy girl sitting shotgun with a smile on her face, but I figured I’d hear about that later. I had a more important question at the moment.

  “What took you so long to start shooting?” I asked Mr. Hardin.

  “Had to figure out how to work the damn thing,” he answered.

  Everyone started laughing. Well, everyone except for Kingsley, but he managed to crack a smile when we had to turn around and go back for Georgie after we were about halfway to the base and remembered that we had left him behind.

  Georgie wasn’t happy to be forgotten. I however, thought it was hilarious. Especially after he told me that he had lost his earpiece over the side of the roof while he was peering down at all the zombies gathering on the street around the building we had left him on. Poor Georgie was waving his arms like a madman trying to get our attention as we flew off into the bright blue sky and a land without the rampaging dead.

  Epilogue

  Skie

  For all practical purposes, the story has ended. Of course, Jaxon has found his way into the news many times thereafter. Someday soon I would like to tell those tales, but this was his first taste of the blood and violence that would become his life. This is the complete story of what exactly happened when El Paso was under attack. This is the origin of the General.

  I’m now taking a rather unique opportunity and jumping forward about ten days after Skie was rescued. There’s something that I found…interesting. It would be easy enough to ask Jaxon, or one of the boys to narrate this tale, but for some reason I wanted to hear it from someone outside the group. I chose Skie. I wasn’t disappointed.