“Oh, Jake,” Kat said, and wiped fresh, bloody tears back from his cheeks. “You couldn't have stopped any of it. That was Poole and his pack of murdering flunkies. You tried to save them. You saved us on the day of the outbreak. You saved Donna and Gwen at the pizza shop from those hillbilly bastards. You saved Allen and Mags from the Purifiers. And me too, if you'll remember. Those two in the sewage plant would've turned me into Swiss cheese, if you hadn't yanked me out of the doorway when they started shooting.”
“I can't save you now,” he grimaced as pain shot up from the still-bleeding hole in his shoulder. “I can barely... I can't get up. I can't see. And Laurel...Laurel just—”
She could tell he wasn't going to be conscious for much longer. Jake's head kept nodding towards his chest. Still crying, Kat kissed him again. This time he managed to respond weakly, and it made her pulse pound in her ears. She held him up and rocked him gently.
“That's why we're a team. When I'm crazy, you're sane. When you give up, I keep going. And when you need someone to guard your heart, it's gonna to be me that's standing on the skinny bridge yelling, You shall not pass!”
He smiled weakly as his strength began to fade “More of a... Jedi fan... myself.”
Seeing Rae striding towards them in a hurry, Cho kissed him again and leaned O'Connor back against the transformer casing. “Rest now. This time, I save you.”
When he didn't respond, Kat realized he was unconscious again. She smoothed his hair a bit, but gave up when it seemed to just spring right back into its unruly shape again, then stood as the femme-fixer jogged to a halt beside them.
“We have a problem,” Rae said.
“Just one?”
“Well, we have a new problem,” the sandy-haired woman clarified. Rae pulled a magazine for her weapon out of her hip-bag and held it up. “I've got this one and the partial in my gun right now. Gwen has two of her own left, and Penny only has half a mag. How much have you got?”
Kat checked her pistols. “Thirteen rounds total. Damn. What about the AR-15 Jake gloomed from the Purifier's?”
“One in the pipe, three in the magazine.”
Kat turned back to search O'Connor's vest and the bag she'd pulled off the patio for the assault rifle. “One and a partial magazine here.”
“We're going to have to make a decision soon.” Rae looked at the writer's silent form. “Do we try to hold here in the hopes George finds us, or do we use the conduit to move for the generator house now? It's stronger structurally, but we won't have any options once we're inside.”
“Because..?” Kat asked.
“Its windows are too high for us to use as an escape route and there's only one door,” Rae told her. “Here, we might be able to skate out at the opposite side of the yard. The creatures are concentrated in between us and the fire in the office block right now. We could slip out and head for cover. Maybe signal George if you've got more of those flares.”
“Fresh out,” Kat said.
“Well, still. We could start a signal fire on the other side of the complex. Up wind of that monster.” Rae motioned at the inferno raging in the main building. The heat was so intense; it was actually setting some of the creatures near the cafeteria doors ablaze.
“Why are you asking me about this?”
Rae shrugged. “You're in charge aren't you?”
“Me?”
“Jake's too badly hurt; Gwen's got no training, Penny's too much of a nubie for us to trust her judgment just yet, and most of my experience is classroom based,” Rae admitted with a guilty look. “That's why I left the FBI. They stuck me behind a desk. No field-worthy skills, they said. Bet none of them could build a working, bug-free X-M8 from scratch...”
Several things went through the blue-haired young woman's mind at that point. The most pertinent of which was that their situation had officially moved from merely desperate, to Oh shit, oh shit, we're all going to die! in the span of a few seconds.
She bit her lip and considered their options. If they headed for the generator house, they'd be able to keep the infected at bay for a good long while. The problem was, they wouldn't be able to see the Mimi's location if she passed within visual range. Moving out under the back fence would afford them great visibility, but they'd be completely exposed. Their party would have to keep moving until they either found George and his mega-machine, or they managed to evade the creatures roaming the grounds long enough to secure another means of transportation. That didn't seem feasible with Jake currently unconscious. Besides which, any more strenuous activity would cause him to bleed out faster, and she wasn't prepared to think about what would happen then.
“Alright. Here's what we're going to do.” Kat swapped the rounds from one Glock into the clip of her other as she spoke, giving her almost a full magazine for the weapon. Just thirteen rounds. “You, Penny and Gwen will go under the rear fence, then head along the shore away from the creatures. Set fire to a vehicle or something so George will see it. I'll stay here with Jake. There's no way we'll be able to carry him and move fast enough to keep away from those things at the same time.”
Rae looked out into the half-light beyond the fence. “Kat, George won't be able to see you in here. You'll be trapped, and once those things break through... Do you really think Jake would want you to—”
Kat was in Rae's face, nose to nose with her, eyes flat with cold anger when she spoke “Don't. Don't even think about telling me to leave him. Not unless you want to see what the afterlife looks like way sooner than expected.”
“We can come back,” Rae said, quickly backing up a step. “Jeez, it's not like we'd leave him here to die! We just need to find—”
“Do not fuck with me on this, Rae.” Cho moved next to the writer and checked the pulse in his neck again. “I'm staying with him, no matter what. That subject isn't up for debate.”
The brown-haired woman sighed and called to Penny and Gwen where they still stood watch, weapons pointed towards the horrors gnawing on their too-thin, protective barrier. The fence was bulging in even further now. Some of the posts were already angling slightly, as the press of dead bodies pushed them out of line. Cold hands clawed at the steel links, mindlessly attempting to reach the survivors. Wanting nothing more than to swallow warm, living flesh. To bite through their fragile skin, savor the texture of their organs as they steamed in the open air and suck the marrow from their bones, after cracking them open with lifeless gray teeth.
“We're heading out the back,” Rae told them and checked to make sure her X-M8 had a round in the chamber. “We'll head south along the edge of the river and keep an eye out for Foster and the Mimi.”
Penny's brow furrowed slightly.
“How do we…” Gwen's voice cut off as she saw Kat kneeling beside the writer’s limp body. “Wait. You guys can't—”
“Gwen! Focus!” Kat snapped. “You two need to go with Rae. She needs you both to watch her back and you need to do it now!”
The blonde's eyes widened, but after swallowing audibly, she nodded and followed George’s shapely counterpart through the enclosure.
“Are you sure about this?” Deputy Carson paused beside Cho for a moment.
“Absolutely,” Kat responded without hesitation.
“Alright.” Penny didn't look happy. “Stay alive until we get back, okay?”
Cho nodded, and the raven-haired woman trotted after Rae and the surviving member of the Barbie Duo.
Gwen looked back when Penny reached them at the fence, just as Rae pulled a small pair of snips from her bag and cut the cable at its base.
“They'll be okay, won't they? We're just going to sneak out and find George, so we can bring the Mimi back to pick them up. Right?”
Rae stuffed the cutters back in her bag. “We'll damn sure try. If we can find a vehicle, we'll just say to hell with it and motor back for them ourselves. Dammit! I wish we had a radio! Elle and Leo could've run our Hummer right over the edge back here and into the yard!”
&nbs
p; They took turns pulling the bottom of the fence up for one another and then squeezing underneath it to the outside. No mean feat, when you happened to be well endowed when it came to cup-size. Rae was especially inconvenienced and had to go under face up—after unfastening her bra—so gravity would help her out a little.
Penny chuckled quietly and kept watch for any creatures, while Gwen quickly helped Rae secure the twins in place again. “That's a first.”
“What?”
“Me, being thankful another woman has bigger boobs than I do.”
Rae gave her a flat look and shouldered her massive weapon once more. “We need to find George. I haven't seen that pink monstrosity of his at all since we snuck into the main building. You'd think something that big and ugly wouldn't be very hard to spot.”
“I thought you and Foster were all, you know, bosom buddies.” Penny snickered quietly, while they started down the fence-line. Gwen had to stifle a giggle at her comment and strove not to trip over anything as she coughed back her mirth.
“Do you want a slap?” Rae asked her, voice low.
The trio crept down to the corner, crouching low to avoid attract any unwanted (read: dead) notice. That was something commonly ingrained by many commanders in the United States military—the worthwhile ones anyway—especially if said unit often-times operated in hostile territory. The rule was: the less attention you attract, the less attention you'll attract. Going all Dirty Harry, was a sure-fire way to get yourself—along with some of your teammates—killed. A far better strategy was to creep up on the bad guy, which meant keeping quiet and remaining unobserved, pop a cap in the back of their head with a suppressed weapon, then sneak off again before any of their worthless, shithead friends realized you were there.
When they reached the corner, the women could see so many creatures clustering against the opposite end of the yard. More and more of them were massing between the blazing offices and the transformer area, with only a scattered late-comer stumbling through the newly remodeled (by way of the Mimi's prow) gate.
Rae motioned Gwen to follow Penny as the woman ghosted quickly away from the moaning crowd. There were some roaming the courtyard at the plant's front entrance and a few staggering here and there amongst the various buildings, but nothing like the number in front of the cafeteria. They would be easily avoidable, so long as the women kept their heads.
* * *
Kat gazed at Jake's face.
She'd managed to carry him to the fence-line once Penny, Gwen, and Rae had scampered, but just barely. His body was utterly limp and seemed to weigh twice that of a normal person, once she'd managed to heft him across her shoulders that is. Getting him off again, without smashing him head first into the yard's gravel surface, had been the easy part. Cho had gone to one knee, let his legs come down against her lower ribs, and then collapsed to the ground beneath him. She'd absorbed the impact of their fall, bruising both her butt (on the ground) and her boobs (on Jake's chest) when he'd fallen against them.
Rolling them over, she checked his shoulder again. It seemed to be bleeding less, but it was difficult to tell in the darkness. The deep stab wound from Milo’s German-made knife had coated his arm completely, and was all over her too. She ignored it and rewrapped the ugly puncture, causing enough discomfort to make O'Connor groan in pain, even while unconscious.
Afterwards she lay down beside him on the warm gravel. Kat snuggled close—hey, he was cold. Sharing body heat should help—propped herself up on one elbow, and kept watch over him, the surrounding area inside the enclosure, and the fence a good sixty yards distant.
“We're going to be okay.” She told him quietly, and stroked light fingers over his face and brow. “Rae and the others will find the Mimi and bring it back to get us, then we'll get you all fixed up again and head for Pecos. Boy, Allen's going to be pissed he missed the fun, don't you think?”
He stirred weakly, maybe due to experiencing a nightmare brought on by his exhaustion, maybe at hearing the sound of her voice. “Kat? Wh…Wha's happening?”
“Sssssh. It's alright, baby. We're just waiting for George to pick us up.” She didn't want to worry him, but she could see the fence beginning to cave on the far side of the yard. They had maybe ten minutes before the dead gained entry and—if she had anything to say about the subject—it was time they'd spend peacefully, together.
“Did I ever tell you... how much I like... the way you walk..?” He asked brokenly. It was obvious, even to Cho's untrained eye that Jake was in some serious pain.
He's delirious. That can't be good, she thought, and smoothed his sweat-drenched hair away from his forehead. Gotta keep him awake or he could go into shock.
“No, now that you mention it. What's so great about it?”
O'Connor turned his head in Cho's direction, but kept his eyes closed. He wouldn't be able to see with his lower lids hemorrhaging, anyway. “Well, you have... amazing legs for one... and the part they connect to... is world class, too.”
She smiled. “You've really spent some time thinking about this, haven't you?”
“That's not... the only reason, you know.” Jake flinched as his shoulder twinged again. “You're really, really smart... even though you hide it. And you're really good at ...kicking lowlife's asses.”
“Do you say that to all the girls?” Cho thought she heard footsteps somewhere close by, but saw nothing. “Or just the ones who keep you from getting killed by a bunch of swastika-sporting morons?”
“Just you,” Jake replied. “Besides I've always been... a sucker for a pair of... really pretty eyes. That was... that's just one reason though.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked, and checked his pulse again.
He shifted his wounded arm up to take her hand. It was shaking, and she grasped it quickly so he wouldn't exert himself. “Reason I... love...”
Kat choked on the breath she was taking and her eyes filled, which caused her vision to swim. He couldn't have just said...
“Jake..?” He didn't respond, and she put her face close to his. “Jake?”
“Uh...?”
Cho knew it was selfish. She knew he wasn't completely in control of his faculties. But she also knew they were most likely going to be dead soon, and she'd never get to hear him say it if she didn't keep him awake. “What did you say?” she asked, hoping he could still hear her.
“You know that... don't you...?” he mumbled.
“Know what? Jake?” She cupped his cheek, and his head rolled to one side. Kat's heart went cold, until she saw the pulse flutter in his neck. He was alive, but weak from blood loss, and though she tried to rouse him again, no amount of pleading on her part caused Jake to stir.
She bent over and kissed him lightly. No response. O'Connor was really out.
“I love you. I've wanted you since the moment we met.” Kat studied his face from an inch away. “I wish we had more time. Time to love each other.”
There it was again. The sound of something dragging over the gravel.
She rose quietly to stand over him and noiselessly drew her sword. Kat began listening intently for the crunch of stone-on-stone over the moaning creatures on the far side, which was when what was left of Tracy Dixon stumped around one of the nearby transformer units.
It was hideous. The vile smelling creature was wearing the remains of a blue terrycloth robe over her decomposing flesh. The front of it was soaked in pus and other noxious fluids that seeped from a gaping stab wound high on its torso. The dead woman's skin had been cut and punctured in a dozen places, turning the robe into a Monet of barefoot murderous pain. A withered frame that moved on feet made ragged by months of shuffling over rough concrete, broken glass and rubble, after wearing her socks away.
Cho didn't lose her temper often. She felt it was a waste of time.
But this was a special occasion.
A certain, drooling, pasty-faced, gray-toothed, bimbette—in serious need of a good facial—was about to get an ass-kicking.
>
“You know, under normal circumstances, I'd feel sorry for you,” Kat said as the Tracy-ghoul took notice of her and began to stumble forward. “I'd have thought about who you used to be, and how awful it is that something like this happened to you. I'd hope you didn't suffer, but we both know that isn't how it really happened, was it?”
The creature came on stiffly. Its moan mingled with those of the other flesh-eaters, who were slowly wrecking the fence-line. There was nothing in the way of intelligence or humanity in the thing’s milky, yellow eyes. Only the driving hunger of the dead.
A very pissed off ninja-girl reversed her sword, so the blade stretched along the back of her arm, and went on. “Now. I was attempting to have a moment with this good-looking fella here. He's really in a bad way so, understandably, I'm a little worried that he's going to die and I'll never get to make sweet, Smoky Robinson-style love to him. Then you drag your rotten ass out and kill... the... mood!”
Kat darted forward to meet the zombie on nimble feline-quick feet. It snatched at her clumsily, animal need and feral anger pulling its face into a terrifying open-mouthed mask of rage. But it was no match for the furious woman. She'd practiced with her grandfather's katana since childhood, so Laurel's friend was very fast, and very, very motivated.
She easily ducked beneath the thing’s awkwardly grasping arms, thereby holding its attention and drawing it away from Jake. Quick as a flash, she spun beyond its reach so suddenly that what used to be a pretty woman couldn't keep up with her darting form. The lovely ex-pharmacy tech's weapon blurred out and Tracy-ghoul's world tilted wildly. Its less than animal-level brain couldn't comprehend what had happened, as everything spun and—thanks to long-dead nerve endings—it never felt the impact of its skull on the gravel surface of the yard.
Wiping her sword on the creature's faded, thread-bare robe, Kat saw the thing's head was still alive. Or whatever you called it. Which was totally wrong and utterly gross, by the way. It seemed that even parting a zombie's spinal cord wasn't enough. Literally, the only way to neutralize one of the things was to destroy its brain. She picked up the head by its hair and spun it around to face her. Yep. Its jaw was still trying to take a bite out of whoever was unlucky enough to be within chomping range.
Rotting to the Core (Keep Your Crowbar Handy Book 2) Page 30
