by Kirk Withrow
“Mother, are you listening to me? You need to get the hell out of here,” Stack said with increased urgency.
“I’m not going to leave you here to die. I can free your leg and get you out of here,” Mother replied.
Stack flashed a shit-eating grin that culminated in a fit of mucous-laden coughing. Streaks of blood smeared his lower lip.
“That’s bullshit, Mother. This is it for me. I’m a dead man, and we both know it,” Stack said.
When this didn’t spur Mother into action, Stack raised the pistol and pointed it at his head. “Now get going.”
Stack saw the pain in Mother’s eyes, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of what he was asking him to do or the fact that he was pointing a loaded weapon at his head. Either way, Stack didn’t have time to worry about it; the revs were getting closer by the second. He had to make sure Mother made it out safely.
The infected’s hungry moans grew louder, and Mother dropped his gaze toward the ground. He knew Stack was right; his only chance was to run. They didn’t have the ammo to put down the entire horde, and judging from the sounds coming from behind him, he didn’t have the time to free Stack’s leg. Even if he did, he doubted he would be able to move him fast enough to stay ahead of the revs. Besides, Stack had been bitten, and Mother saw evidence of the virus taking hold already. When he looked back up, Stack had flipped the pistol around and was offering it to him. Reluctantly, Mother reached out and took it.
“Thanks, Mother. Do me a favor, will you?” Stack asked.
While he knew he wouldn’t deny his friend’s request, Mother had hoped Stack wouldn’t ask him to end it for him. It was something they’d all discussed and agreed to previously. Those conversations seemed light years away from the dirty alley he found himself in.
“Keep Cujo safe, and don’t tell her about any of this until later, okay?” Stack added.
Mother felt as though there were a vise around his throat; no words made it to his lips. With tears in his eyes, Mother gave Stack a nod. When the nearest revs had closed to within ten feet, Mother fired into the crowd, dropping the leading edge of the horde.
“Do you want me to take care of things?” Mother asked, his strained words barely audible over the din of the infected.
Stack’s eyes glowed with the pain caused by the virus, as he shook his head adamantly.
“No, I can handle this. You just make sure the scavenging team gets back to the CDC safely. I’ll hold these infected bastards off for as long as I can.”
Even though he was relieved that Stack hadn’t asked him to end his life for him, Mother shuddered at the thought of the suffering his friend was enduring. He dug through his pack in search of an ampule of morphine. After a second, he held up the little glass vial triumphantly.
“No, Mother. If I’m going to stay in this fight, I can’t be all drugged up.”
With no more time to waste, Mother tossed the morphine to Stack, who let it fall to the ground. He popped a fresh magazine in his pistol and handed it to the doomed soldier. Stack took the offered weapon in his trembling hand.
“It’s been an honor serving with you, Mother. Please look after Cujo for me…and, tell her…I love her.”
“Stack, the honor has been mine, and I promise I will do everything I can to keep her safe—not that a girl like Cujo needs anyone to protect her,” Mother replied trying to lighten the somber mood.
Stack smiled weakly and gave a knowing nod. “Now get out of here, old man, before the infected have a buffet on your ass!”
Mother backed down the alley, firing into the approaching horde as he went. He didn’t look back toward Stack, because he wanted his last memory of Stack to be that of the brave soldier willing to be thrashed by the infected to increase the chances the others would escape.
Stack lowered his head to the cold pavement once Mother was out of sight. Now that he was alone, he was far less confident in his decision. His entire body felt as if it were on fire, and the pain in his legs was almost unbearable. He scanned the ground in search of the morphine he’d dropped, but it was nowhere to be seen. He brought the pistol into his field of vision and eyed it warily. It was like the serpent in the garden, promising to make all of his pain disappear if he would just accept it. In comparison to the revs bearing down upon him, the gun was almost inviting. Without another thought, he pressed the pistol’s barrel against his temple and was surprised to find its coldness to be so calming, almost welcomed. All the fear he thought he would have vanished. He closed his eyes tightly as he took the slack out of the trigger.
Just before the shot broke, Cujo’s smiling face flashed through Stack’s mind. His eyes flew open, revealing a red-hot fury that eclipsed the ungodly pain they’d contained moments ago. He jerked the gun away from his head as though it were a venomous snake about to strike him. A fiery resolve surged through his body, and he vowed to take out as many of the rotten bastards as he could. The revs sounded as though they were right on top of him, and he could hardly wait for their arrival.
The first rev to round the corner of the dumpster had been a woman wearing scrubs. She was missing half of her scalp, which gave her the appearance of having shaved the side of her head. The rest of her dirty blond hair was matted with congealed blood. Stack ended her existence with the bullet that had been so close to ending his own just moments before. He continued lining up his sights on whichever infected thing appeared in front of him, making headshot after headshot despite the horrendous pain coursing through his body. Before each shot, he waited until the rev was nearly on top him, so that by the time his pistol slide locked open, a parapet of corpses surrounded him. The bulwark of death he’d created slowed the revs enough to allow him to bludgeon two more with the butt of his pistol before his energy stores were depleted. He swung ineffectually at the third rev, and although the blows connected, the ghoul was unfazed.
Stack took deep, ragged breaths as he stared at the harbingers of death slowly crawling toward him over their dead brothers. He’d accepted that this was the end, and he tried not to think of the agony that would precede his release from the horrors of the world. He didn’t know if Cujo was still within earshot, but he prayed for the strength to remain quiet. Whether his prayer was answered or he simply lacked the energy to scream, he didn’t utter a sound as the infected rived his flesh from his bones with tooth and nail.
As darkness swallowed him, Stack focused his mind on Cujo. She alone made the pain almost bearable. His final thought, however, was of the concrete blocks pinning his leg, and he couldn’t help but smile.
At least I won’t be going anywhere after these bastards are through with me…
25
Mother staggered out of the smoke-filled alley. The irritants in the air caused his red-rimmed eyes to tear even more, at least that’s what he told himself. The pain he felt about Annalee and the loss of Stack was overwhelming, and he had to force it to the back of his mind just to keep moving forward. He paused to regain his bearings before setting out to find the scavenging team once again. Less than ten minutes later, he found himself pressed against a wall with a wicked-looking blade pressed against his neck.
“Take it easy. It’s just me,” Mother said with his hands raised in surrender. Although Animal lowered her blade, her hard stare never wavered. She was clearly shell-shocked, and Mother realized that sneaking up behind her hadn’t been the smartest thing to do.
Cujo barely noticed when Animal sprang into action; her mind was a thousand miles away. She’d seen Stack in the alley; she was certain of it. Where did he go? Where is he now? Her eyes searched for him even as she entertained the possibility that her mind had merely shown her what she wanted to see. She didn’t really believe that. No—Stack had been there to rescue her. Only when the man Animal had intercepted walked past Cujo on his way to the front of the convoy did she recognize him.
“Mother?” she asked, as though confused by his presence.
Cujo had only seen Stack, but she assumed they m
ust’ve come together. When her commanding officer refused to meet her gaze, her excitement was quickly devoured by the gnawing hole that opened up in the pit of her stomach.
Sensing something was wrong, Cujo’s lower lip trembled as she asked, “Mother, where’s Stack?”
Mother paused mid-stride, his shoulders tensing as though he’d been struck in the back. Even though he wasn’t facing her, his body language told her everything there was to know. He lowered his head before glancing over his shoulder. Although only his profile was visible, it bore the confirmation of Cujo’s worst fear.
“I’m…I’m sorry,” Mother said sincerely. “Look, the compound has been attacked, and we’ve been forced to fall back to the keep. We need to finish this mission and get these supplies to Dr. San as soon as possible.” Despite the truth in his words, he felt like an asshole for saying them.
As expected, Mother’s announcement generated a firestorm of questions. He did his best to answer them, providing only the highlights of what had taken place at the CDC in their absence. Finally, John said what was undoubtedly on many of their minds.
“I say let’s ditch this cart. We can get back in a quarter of the time without it,” John said as though trying to rally the others behind his point.
Everyone but Mother nodded in agreement.
“You don’t understand—Annalee was bitten. Dr. San thinks there’s a chance to save her, but she can’t do it without these supplies,” Mother said.
The news clearly came as a shock to everyone, as evidenced by the sea of blank faces staring back at him. When Mother locked eyes with John, he saw a father’s unspoken concern for his daughter.
Mother knew he had to tell him something, though he wasn’t sure exactly what to say. Not wanting to lie, Mother said, “Lydia is taking care of Ava, John.”
This seemed to ease John’s apprehension, as the tension in his shoulder diminished slightly. Mother was thankful that John didn’t question him further. When no one else spoke up, Mother added, “Come on. Let’s get this stuff to Dr. San.”
26
Lydia hadn’t had time to survey the destruction caused by the attack, so the sight of all the bodies surrounding the gaping hole in the building staggered her. With wide eyes, she asked, “What happened?”
Knowing that her question was rhetorical, neither Garza nor Anthony responded. Instead, they ushered her toward the mouth of the dark hallway from which they’d emerged earlier. There, a pair of milk white eyes stared up at Garza. The unmoving eyes stood in stark contrast to what remained of its head, which was painted fire engine red for reasons Garza didn’t know. Its body had been blown away by one of the explosions, leaving only its right arm attached to its neck and shoulder. Garza grimaced when he noticed that its extended arm pointed toward the newly remodeled entrance like some nightmarish doorman.
Even though the hall was devoid of the infected, it still gave off an ominous vibe. The scent of gunpowder hung heavily in the air as they stepped inside the dark corridor. Garza paused to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim light.
“Everybody ready? Stay sharp and follow my lead. Lydia—stay behind Anthony and me,” he said.
Garza pressed his rifle to his shoulder and inched forward, letting his barrel lead the way. It moved from side to side, like a snake’s tongue sampling the air. Anthony moved alongside him, and Lydia found it difficult to tell the two apart in the low light. The sound of Charon padding along behind her was both reassuring and a little disconcerting. She imagined the feeling was similar to that of being stalked by a tiger, and she was thankful the powerful dog was on their side. Other than them, nothing moved in the hallway.
Just before the hall opened into the common area, Charon shoved past Lydia, knocking her to the side in the process. Having been unprepared for the hit, she lost her footing and smacked her head against the wall. Bursts of light flashed in her eyes momentarily. Although she didn’t fall, the blow left her disoriented. When she finally recognized the armed men in front of her, she noticed that they were backing toward her as they panned their rifles around in search of a target. A few feet in front of them stood a motionless Charon, hackles raised as a throaty growl rumbled deep inside.
Several shafts of light filtered in through the common area’s skylights, highlighting more than a dozen corpses littering the floor. Even with the improved lighting, Lydia couldn’t see what had raised the dog’s alarm. She was about to say as much when an enormous rev lurched out of the darkness from her left side. Charon turned and threw himself against the thing whose tattered, short-sleeved, button-up shirt still bore a name tag proclaiming him to be Craig with the CDC’s janitorial services. The former janitor who weighed at least three hundred pounds hardly budged as Charon ricocheted off him. The grotesque thing took another step forward before the top of his head was transformed into a crimson mist. Lydia’s gaze settled on the wisp of smoke that curled out of Anthony’s rifle barrel. She stared in amazement at how something that made so little noise had caused so much damage, and how the boy had been able to use it to that effect with so little reaction.
“You okay?” Garza asked, offering her a steadying hand.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Lydia replied.
“Good. We need to keep moving. There are no doubt more where that came from.”
They resumed their trek through the building’s gloomy interior on their way to the keep. Although the power had been out for some time, the halls seemed darker and more sinister than Lydia recalled. Fortunately, the only infected they encountered during the remainder of their short journey were of the really dead variety.
“Friendlies,” Garza announced when they neared the crosswalk leading to the keep. With so many other opportunities to get killed, the last thing he wanted was to get shot by one of his own people.
“It’s me, Garza.”
L.T. popped up from behind the barricade and scanned the area. Seeing no danger, he waved them forward.
“Glad you made it back in one piece, soldier.”
L.T. thought of Annalee and immediately regretted his choice of words. At least I didn’t say that to Mother. He noticed that Ava wasn’t with them, but he said nothing.
“Good work, Garza. Get everyone inside.”
* * *
Lydia peered through the doorway of the provisional medical bay that had been set up in the keep. Despite the fact that Lin San wasn’t a medical doctor, she was doing her best to treat Annalee. She instructed Kate on how to care for the girl’s wounds and how to adjust the IV tubing that ran from a bag of fluid hanging above Annalee’s head to a catheter inserted into a vein in her hand. Annalee lay still, only squirming slightly when Lin injected a syringe of cloudy yellow liquid into one of the IV tubing’s ports. A large pile of blood-soaked gauze sat on the floor, giving the room a strong, metallic tang that made Lydia nauseous. When her gaze settled on the layers of white bandages wrapped around Annalee’s stump, she all but forgot the overpowering smell. Blood spotted the dressing’s center, making it look like a macabre version of the Japanese flag.
Even missing an arm, Annalee looked much better than when Lydia had last seen her. Although substantial blood loss had left the girl’s skin wan, she was resting comfortably. Lydia imagined that some sort of sedative or painkiller was to thank for her calm demeanor. It was the first time Lydia had seen the result of what she’d asked Mother to do, and she felt both sick and relieved by the sight. She hoped both Annalee and Mother would eventually forgive her for making that call. In truth, she could accept it if Annalee never wished to speak with her again so long as the girl lived to make that choice.
Kate’s assistance with Annalee meant that Lin could divert some of her attention to helping Maria in the makeshift lab they’d cobbled together. Addressing Annalee’s acute medical issues could only carry her partway out of the woods. They also had to ensure that LNV didn’t take control of the young girl’s body and mind. If that were even possible, Lin knew it was going to take time, resources, a
nd a hell of a lot of luck.
As soon as Annalee had arrived at the keep, Lin had initiated the Banks Protocol, the treatment designed by one of the CDC’s initial LNV researchers, Dr. Jim Banks. She prayed that the medication regimen would buy her some time. Unfortunately, it would do little more than that; Dr. Banks was proof of that fact. Lin desperately needed the scavenging team to return with the resources necessary for what she hoped would finally be a successful treatment for the inimical lyssa-niuhi virus. As far as luck was concerned, Lin wouldn’t hold her breath as she waited to see if that elusive commodity would show up. Luck had never been something she’d relied on in the past; now she wasn’t even sure it still existed.
Lin walked over to where Maria sat hunched over a small tray of test tubes, scribbling notes as she observed each one. “How’s it looking?” she asked.
Maria’s eyes were red and swollen from exhaustion when she looked up. Despite her appearance, she sounded surprisingly upbeat when she spoke.
“I really think this is it, Lin. I can feel it. Let’s just hope John and the others make it back in time for Annalee.”
There it was. Just like that, the thing Lin feared was right out in the open, and she could no longer hide from it. Her head dropped as she considered the possibility that the scavenging team might not make it back. She tried not to think about what that would mean for Annalee…or the ones she loved who had gone on the mission.
Having finally built up the courage to face Annalee’s situation, Lydia stepped into the room.
“Don’t worry. They’ll make it back with the supplies. How’s she doing?” Lydia said.
Lin hadn’t noticed her standing in the doorway, but was relieved to see that she’d made it back safely. Unfortunately, her relief was short-lived as she learned that she’d returned without Ava.
“She’s stable for now. She lost a lot of blood, but her vital signs are responding to the IV fluids. I started the protocol, so she’s been out of it since Mother brought her in. We haven’t seen any signs of LNV, but it’s still early. I’m worried she could get a bacterial infection in her stump,” Lin said.
