Rotting to the Core (Keep Your Crowbar Handy Book 2)

by Durnin, S. P.

  “Dammit, why didn't any of you bring a radio?” Jake demanded, as the discharge of Laurel’s weapon echoed from the roof.

  “We didn't have one!” Rae told him. “None of them were charged by the time we got here! George wanted Laurel to take one for when we found you, but we'd—”

  Then the roof of the office block exploded.

  A huge fireball mushroomed skyward, lighting up the deepening gloom and creating a beacon seen for miles around. It threw debris out for a hundred yards in every direction, peppering the surrounding area and tossing wreckage into the water on the far side of the power plant. Chunks of concrete, steel, and insulation—along with a hell of a lot of cooked body parts—rained down across the area, pelting the survivors and the infected alike. The roof was burning as well. Flames, clearly visible in the growing darkness, lit the building's top like a crown sent straight from the bowels of perdition. There was a noise like the sound of a giant groaning, then the roof fell in.

  The prior explosion had damaged virtually the entire rooftop one way or another. Much of it collapsed into the top floor, and that set off a chain reaction of destruction. While well supported, the impact of so much weight destroyed the center section of the fifth floor. That, along with what had come down with the roof, proceeded to fall down into the fourth. The process continued, blowing out many of the windows on its way down, until even part of the cafeteria was demolished, smashed flat beneath tons and tons of ecclesiastically burning steel and stone. That turned the building into a gigantic chimney. Air was drawn into the wrecked dining area, up past the center of each floor, and on out through the roof where it fed oxygen to the rising flames. Nothing living inside or above on the tar and gravel-covered roof would survive through that. Any human or zombie would've been vaporized by the initial blast, let alone the five story fall and growing fire in the building's core.

  Jake screamed like the freshly dammed.

  An agonized cry of loss and sorrow tore its way from his throat, causing Gwen, Penny, and Rae to release him then back quickly away. Kat was the only one who kept her hold, doggedly refusing to let him go. She pressed her face into the hollow between the muscles of his chest as they clenched taunt beneath his skin, and wept.

  Jake screamed, head thrown back to the uncaring sky. His body stiffened and jerked as he attempted to deal with a sensory overload of grief that ripped through his brain. Kat held him tighter, trying to lend him comfort with her presence, but he started to shake and his hands spasmed violently.

  Jake screamed, and his sanity shook to its foundations. His howl went on and on and on. Never taking a breath, the writer sent his pain heavenward in an agony-filled cry of unimaginable suffering. Kat was positive that if there actually were such a thing as angels, all of them had assuredly looked about just then in terror.

  They'd realize something dark had been birthed.

  Something that knew their names.

  And it hated them.

  But the ninja-girl remained where she was, clutched to Jake as he gave voice to what they both felt in the face of Laurel's death.

  His cry broke off suddenly and Jake's body slumped, falling across her as he collapsed.

  Cho caught his weight with some effort, calling out to him as she eased them both to their knees, but she received no reply. After getting him to the ground she leaned Jake back, making sure to support his head, and felt over his carotid for a pulse. His heart was beating, but he was completely unresponsive.

  He was bleeding from his eyes.

  As Kat watched, blood quickly welled up from beneath his lower lids to roll down his cheeks in thick crimson tears.

  “Rae!”

  The fixer knelt quickly beside her and, brushing her own sandy-brown hair out of her face, proceeded to give O'Connor a thorough once over. Gwen and Penny stood guard nervously, watching the creatures as they continued clawing at the fence. The things tore away fingernails and smeared gore on the wires in their efforts to breach the barrier. There were so many of them outside the gate now, some of the ten-foot sections had already bowed in towards the transformer units noticeably. Rae finished quickly and sighed as she pulled a small pack of wipes from her hip bag.

  “What's happening?” Kat demanded, still holding an unconscious Jake against her body. She knew he would've been embarrassed, laying his head against her boobs in front of the other two women, but it was the easiest way for her to support him. “Rae, what the hell is wrong with him?”

  “Well, let's see,” she replied. “He's virtually exhausted, partially dehydrated and—at a guess—I'd say he hasn't eaten anything in about thirty-six hours. He may have a concussion, his ribs look like they've taken one hell of a beating recently, and he's burst some of the blood vessels in his lower eyelids with that scream just now. Oh, yeah. He's got a pretty nasty-looking stab wound in his left shoulder?”

  Kat frowned “So, he's passed out because...”

  “He needs rest. And blood.”

  “Um. As far as I know, his name isn't Eddie and he doesn't glitter when the sun is out,” Kat said.

  Rae closed her eyes and counted to ten. Out loud. “See that red stuff all over Jake's left arm? You do realize that's supposed to be on the inside, right?”

  “He's bleeding to death?” Cho exclaimed, looking down at Jake's face in panic.

  “Unless we can stop the blood-flow, or find him a donor soon he will,” the chesty fixer confirmed.

  “Hey, type O-negative here!” Kat said hastily, extending her arm and shaking it in Rae's direction. “Let's get with the transfusion!”

  She didn't even look up and simply kept her arm pointed in Rae's direction. Jake wasn't going to die. There was no way Cho was going to let that happen. She didn't care if the brown-haired woman took every, last drop of blood in her veins.

  Sitting back against the nearby transformer, Kat pulled his upper body into her lap and, after ripping off her shirtsleeve, used it to wipe the blood away from O'Connor's face. She'd wanted to touch him this way for a while now. To just hold him, without having to play the vapid vixen, or make up some other excuse—like say tossing him around the surface of a practice mat for an hour or so—while attempting not to be overtly sexual. Cleaning his face as best she could, Kat tossed her bloody sleeve away, then haltingly touched Jake's pale and lightly-stubbled cheek. He didn't stir, so she caressed his face gently.

  He was cold. His skin was clammy and damp like he'd been sitting in a tub full of ice water, even though it was late July. Now she was getting really scared. Murderous Nazis, sex-cults, crazed ex-girlfriends, flesh-eating monsters: all that she could handle. But if Jake died...

  She wouldn't have any reason to keep on living. Not with Laurel gone, too. Cho calmly realized if that happened she would commit seppuku, thereby following Jake to what her roommate called the “Summer-lands.” The place most everyone else called Heaven. Or down to Hell, if that's where he went.

  Heaven wouldn't be paradise without him anyway.

  Kat bent close and lightly pressed her lips to his. “Stay. Stay with me. Please.”

  * * *

  There was little of the old world left now.

  Some of the higher-ups, using the campuses of UCLA and Berkeley, since both were located in the Western Safe Zone, had been searching for the cause of the outbreak. Those involved termed it Project Reclamation. They believed a vaccine or inoculation could be developed. Something which would provide immunity to whatever the hell it was that had caused over ninety percent of the world’s population to become nothing but flesh-eating revenants. They diverted a large number of the Zone’s already-lean supplies and much-needed manpower in continued attempts to fix the problem. What they were really doing—while some of the other survivors attempted to avoid starvation—was stocking up.

  At least, until the new Commander in Chief heard about it, rolled up his sleeves, and stepped in swinging.

  Unlike his worthless, mealy-mouthed predecessor—who had succeeded only in bringing the U
nited States to the brink of financial and social collapse—the newly sworn-in president was a warrior. He’d seen action in many theaters of conflict, fought right there, shoulder to shoulder with his men, even before the dead rose to consume humanity. He understood that “Leading from the front” didn’t entail sitting on your ass, sipping sherry, and eating your steak medium rare, while civilians struggled by with beans, cornmeal, and (if they were lucky) the stray dog, squirrel, or pigeon. He understood that in order to save what remained of the country and its occupants, he needed to restore some semblance of hope. There was no way to do that with a pack of power-hungry lobbyists wasting precious resources many desperately needed to survive. He believed in the oath every soldier took to “support and defend the Constitution of the United States”, and that didn’t entail starving or abandoning people just so a lucky few could live high on the hog.

  Taking the entire 1st Marine Division from Camp Pendleton and the 1st, 5th, and 11th Regiments, newly returned from duty posts overseas, just prior to the outbreak, the new president proceeded to put boot to butt-cheek. His forces secured first UCLA, then Berkeley, and began to swiftly distribute the amassed supplies stockpiled there throughout the Zone. As this went on, the newly-minted president held a closed-door meeting with the higher-ups of Project Reclamation. This half-hour long gathering entailed him telling them what they were going to do, and those gathered “fucking-keeping their fucking-mouths fucking-shut and doing as they were fucking-ordered, or they would fucking-well be taken from the conference room by the capable squad of Marines conveniently waiting at the rear and held under guard—sans due process—until such time as the country’s judicial system had an opportunity to deal with them.” Which might very well take, well, forever.

  Needless to say, the new Commander in Chief wasn’t in the mood to fuck around.

  Most of the Project Reclamation hierarchy took him up on that offer. They were sent to duty-stations very close to the edge of the Safe Zone, where the unit commanders were given very specific instructions as to their new responsibilities.

  The once elite were going to spend a lot of time cooking meals and digging latrines for the troops that held humanities boundaries.

  -Chapter Fifteen-

  Realizing nobody had shoved a needle in her arm yet, Kat looked up to see Rae watching her curiously.

  “It's not what you think.” Kat closed her eyes and gripped Jake's limp form against her protectively.

  “You mean you haven't been in love with him since the day you two met?” Rae arched an elegant eyebrow.

  “Uh. Well. Yeah. But we haven't done anything about it. He and Laurel were together. She was my best friend. I couldn't come between them just because I was stupid and didn't keep him for myself.” Her lower lip quivered. “He's... Is he going to die?”

  Rae looked to where Gwen stood with Penny, still keeping a watchful eye on the bulging fence-line. The gate was holding, but it was anyone's guess for how long. Most likely, the creatures wouldn't even bother with the entrance. Their numbers were steadily increasing. Soon the pressure from the outside would be so great, even the thick chain-link would buckle and collapse.

  “Honey, it doesn't look good,” Foster's counterpart admitted. “There's very little I can do for Jake here. I don't have many medical supplies on me, and certainly not what's necessary to do a transfusion. The only IVs we have are in the Mimi, so...”

  Looking down at Jake's face from less than a foot away, the only thing Kat wanted was for him to open his eyes and smile at her. He could tell her to get bent tomorrow. That he never wanted to have anything more to do with her and was going off to Alaska to raise snipes with Miss December from Soapy Jugs Magazine, just so long as he was alive.

  Well. Maybe not the best example, but she was under a little stress.

  “I'm going to check around the enclosure. See if there's anything we can use in here. If... When those things get in, we're all going to have to move up onto the conduits there.” Rae pointed back to the middle of their little—temporarily—safe area. “Come on. Gwen and the Deputy can watch the gate for now. It will be a little while yet, but let's get our boy over there. Just in case.”

  She took one arm, Kat took his other, and together they carried Jake to the conduit access point. He was still out cold, and his feet dragged grooves in the gravel surface behind them as they moved quickly to the enclosures center. Cho attempted not to cry at the sight of his head hanging limply against his chest, swaying with every step. Once they got him settled against the unit's housing, Rae pulled a short-needled syringe out of her bag, uncapped it, and shot its contents into the writer's vein.

  “What was that?” Kat asked her, as the woman tossed the needle away.

  “Just a stimulant,” Rae answered. “We have some time yet, but... Kat, if you have anything to say to him, you should do it now.”

  Then she rose and walked off among the now-dormant transformer units towards their other two companions, readying her huge assault rifle as she strode away.

  Taking Jake's hand, Kat pressed his palm against her cheek, rocking back and forth as she knelt beside him. She couldn't believe it. She'd finally found the person made for her on this miserable, little mud-ball, and the gods had seen fit to take him away from her not once, but twice now.

  It's not fair! she mind yelled, preying the powers-that-be would listen to her, as she begged for his life. I'll never so much as look at another man as long as I live! Just don't take him away from me! Please!

  She thought about everything they still had yet to—and now probably never would—do. They would never get to be intimate. She'd never be able to wake up with him holding her. They wouldn't have a life together. Time to love one another.

  Oh, but our kids would've been so beautiful, she thought.

  That set off a fresh storm of grief. Jake would've been such a tender lover. A truly wonderful husband. An amazing father. But none of that was going to happen now. Kat's tears were making his hand moist against her cheek, and she kissed the quietly thumping pulse in his wrist. She kept her mouth pressed against the slow beating of his heart.

  “I tried so hard to save you,” she choked. “I'd have done anything to save you. It's not fair.”

  “Kat..?”

  Cho's eyes flew open at his voice. It was low and raspy, telling her he may have damaged it somehow earlier, when he let loose that terrible scream, but he was awake. Sort of. Jake looked decidedly groggy, and his eyes still bled ever-so-slightly as he spoke.

  “I heard you say something, but I couldn't...” He frowned. “Can't see. Looks weird. Something in my eyes.”

  He reached up to wipe them, but she intercepted his hand with her own. “It's alright. You got hurt, but you'll be fine. Do you know where we are? The Purifiers? The power plant?”

  “Sure. I remember. What happened? Did one of those things...?”

  She gripped his hand reassuringly. “No! Nothing like that. You're just hurt, that's all. You weren't bitten or anything.”

  “You'd tell me if I was... right?” He pressed her.

  “Yes. I could never lie to you.”

  He relaxed against the transformer casing. “Okay.”

  “Jake, I-I need to admit something,” she said.

  “Okay.”

  “I need to tell you...that I love you!” She blurted out. There she'd said it.

  He smiled weakly. “I know. Love you too...We're a team. Remember?”

  “That's not what I mean.” She let loose her grip on his hand, took his bloody face between both of her own, then carefully leaned forward and kissed him.

  Hard as it was, Kat refrained from letting herself turn into a slobbering, sex-crazed animal, and concentrated on conveying her feelings for him instead. Her kiss moved gently against his mouth and she almost lost it again as she felt him grin. She sighed against his lips when she pulled away but stayed close. So close, that they brushed Jake's when she spoke.

  “We may not get out of here, so
I'm through hiding how I feel. I love you. I think about you all the time. I kept finding excuses to stay near you, even when we were stuck in George's hideaway. To keep you with me, keep you close. Even though I knew it was wrong, and we couldn't...” Kat had to take a couple of deep breaths to calm herself before she could go on.

  “I get chills when you say my name. I can't breathe wh…when you look at me. And when you t… touch me, I never... I never want you to stop.” She was having to force the words out between half-sobs, as her hands moved tenderly over his blood-slick face. “I know you don't feel the same way about m-me, but I can't, I won't hide it anymore.”

  The half-blind writer moved his hand up by feel alone. He ran it awkwardly along her arm until he felt the place where her shoulder and collarbone met, up the elegant curve of her throat, and finally stopping to cup the back of her neck just beneath the line of her newly-shortened blue hair.

  “Kat.” The blood pushing up in Jake's eyes stung horribly and he had to keep them shut. “I don't... I could ever be... good enough for you...”

  She gaped at him. “Good enough for me?”

  Jake nodded drunkenly. “I've done awful... I failed, Kat. Allen and Maggie. Heather and Karen and Donna... I even tortured that Purifier we caught... but none of it made... a bit of difference. This is all my fault. How can you care about me when... everything I do... ends up killing our friends?”