“We got company,” Austin yelled from the hallway, and then his rifle shot cracked, and the children screamed.
Annie broke off from Brad and rushed to help her brother.
Devin and Thorn followed her.
“How many?” Devin asked.
“So far, just one dead kitty,” Austin said and pointed to the torn ventilation duct. “But listen.”
From the vents came the sound of hundreds of claws scratching on the metal ductwork. At two of the vents, they saw the green eyes that peered at them through the slots.
“I’ll send you some help,” Devin said.
“No, me and Annie got this. Just get our ride ready,” Austin countered.
Devin looked at him. “Fine, but don’t be a hero.”
“Too late, bro, I already am.” Austin smiled, but his eyes acknowledged the seriousness of the situation.
Devin and Thorn ran back to the group. Devin shouted orders, and everyone moved with an urgency that had become their lives.
“Feel better?” Austin asked Annie.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“Well, you wanted to kill some cats; here’s your chance. But put those knives away and take this.” Austin handed her his rifle. “They’re too small to get with those blades.”
“I have my pistols.”
“The rifle is more accurate, trust me.”
“What are you going use?”
Austin unslung his bat.
“I thought they were too small?”
“They’re bigger than a baseball.” He smiled. “And this way, I can cover your reloads. Here, kitty, kitty,” he called.
And the cats came.
Annie pumped bullets into the stream of cats that fell from the broken vents. Austin swung his bat with deadly accuracy. He was working on a perfect batting average, and then one got by him. It dodged his bat with a quick fake, and then it propelled itself inside his swing zone. Austin turned with his own catlike speed, and the feline sailed past him. Its claws struck out as it passed, and the sharp daggers caught Austin’s exposed side. He felt burning heat as the claws tore through his shirt and made three deep scratches across his ribs. He felt the warm trickle of blood as it seeped from his wounds. The physical damage was not fatal. A gunshot exploded from behind and disintegrated the cat’s head. Golden stood at the door with her .38.
“Please tell me it’s time to go?” Austin asked as he returned to his kitty batting practice.
Golden joined their killing line and he sighed.
Things got bad. It became impossible to keep up with the flow of incoming infected cats. Annie threw Austin his rifle and pulled out her nine millimeters.
“Enough with the bat; we need to kill them faster.”
“Agreed,” Austin called, “but we’re gonna need help and quick.”
Golden ran for help.
More and more cats flowed from the vents. Austin and Annie backed up and blocked the hallway entrance in order to give the team more time. The cats stopped running directly toward them and began to spread out as they entered the room. The duet continued to fire, but it was clear their bullets would not last. The felines seemed to sense it, and they began to move forward with calculated stealth.
“Rut ro,” Austin said. “I think we need to get back into the hall or this won’t end well.”
“I think I agree,” Annie said.
Something whizzed over their heads, and Austin’s first thought was that it was a cat. There was the sound of breaking glass and then fire broke across the floor. Cats caught fire and screeched terrible cries. A second bottle flew past and exploded. Austin and Annie turned. Brad ran at them down the short hallway. He cocked his arm back and let the third Molotov cocktail fly.
“Annie,” he said, “we’re ready to go. Get back to the trucks.”
Annie ran. Brad provided cover fire with his rifle. Most of the cats were burning or behind the wall of flames.
“Let’s go, Austin,” Brad said, and the two ran.
“Dude, very nice throw.”
“Thanks, I always wanted to be a quarterback.”
“And the cocktails, very smart.”
“Well, I’m allergic to cats.”
Austin almost laughed but saw that his friend was dead serious.
“Plus,” the football player continued, “I kind of like your sister.”
“Yeah, no shit.” Austin did laugh this time.
“Oh, you knew?”
“Bro, everyone knows. Don’t sweat it, Annie and you are good in my book.”
“Thanks, man.”
The team watched them approach. They were ready to go, and as Brad and Austin jumped in the vehicles, Nick threw open the rolling door. Adam and Devin stood up through the open SUV sunroofs. As the door opened, Nick ran back to the vehicles and Devin and Adam threw their own Molotov cocktails through the open door. The flames exploded on the waiting cats. The vehicles sped through the door. They drove around the half-eaten bodies of their two friends. No one looked and no one commented. The lead vehicle went right as agreed. The empty country lane was their only choice. It would be dawn soon, and they could not risk a return to the main road. A drive deeper into the wood seemed the best plan until nightfall.
In the back seat of the SUV, Austin pulled up his shirt and examined the scratches. They looked red and puffy and a burning heat radiated along his side. He coughed and it felt like he had broken a couple of ribs. That was impossible; the infected cat had only scratched him. He wondered if he now traveled the short road to zombie-ville. He dismissed the idea; if he did, he did, and there was nothing he could do about it. Golden looked at him. He put a finger to his lips, but she looked away.
Simon says … run again
The country road seemed endless. It wound deeper and deeper into the Georgia countryside, and for a while, their world was no more than blind corners and a canopy of thick trees and foliage. When they found an overgrown driveway, they followed it as it twisted and turned up the hillside. It terminated at a large house. No one was thrilled with the prospect of another abandoned building or the possible encounter with more death and danger. Still, they were tired and it was morning. They could not drive farther without rest, and with that thought, they checked the structure and prepared for the worst. It was empty.
The well-appointed interior suggested that this had been home for someone wealthy; perhaps it was even a vacation retreat away from whatever job had afforded such luxury. They chose guard shifts, hid the vehicles behind the house, and began to settle in to another day of nightmare-filled sleep.
“Russ,” Susan whispered as she curled up on his chest.
“Yeah.” He was tired but didn’t think he could sleep.
“We can’t go on like this,” she said.
“We don’t have a choice, Susan.”
“I know. I just mean we have to find some place to rest for a few days. Someplace safe.”
He considered his response and then decided on the truth.
“Susan, I don’t know if such a place exists anymore.”
He felt her nod.
“Maybe it would be easier to just give up.”
“No,” he said. “I’m not ready to, and neither is anyone else. Not yet.”
She sighed. “I’m just so tired and so scared all the time. A part of me wishes we had just stayed in your house.”
“We’d be dead by now.”
“I know. There just aren’t any good answers, are there?”
“We fight, we run, and we survive. For now that’s all there is.”
She was quiet for a while, and he thought she had fallen asleep. Then she whispered, “Caroline is pregnant, Russ.”
Thorn was silent. It was just another impossible weight to carry.
“Does Devin know?�
� he asked, but he already knew the answer.
“No. She hasn’t told him yet. She’s afraid of what it will change. He already worries about her and, well, everyone else. Do you think she should tell him?”
“I think she should.” He paused, not liking himself for what he was about to suggest. “But I think if she can, she should wait until we’re somewhere safer.”
“Is that for our benefit, Russ, or what’s best for her and Devin?”
Thorn didn’t answer because he didn’t like what his answer might suggest about his own honor. He only knew that making the kid decide between the best choices for the group and the best for his unborn child was too much. Perhaps those choices would be the same, but he doubted that. So many of their decisions were little more than measured risk. Regardless, they couldn’t afford to be half in.
She didn’t say any more because she hadn’t expected an answer.
A few minutes later, he heard her soft snores. He envied her, imagining he would never sleep again.
Then he did.
Chapter 13
Echoes in a Quiet Room
Austin dreamt.
The world looked so different. It stretched like a funhouse mirror, and yet he saw everything with great depth. The colors directly in front of him were deep and vibrant, but on the edges of his sight, things were gray and unfocused. He felt strong, stronger than he had ever felt. A part of him knew he was in a dream. Knew that his body burned with fever and that part of his mind wondered if this was death. In this strange yet familiar landscape, he sensed something else—an undeniable purpose that pulsed like an electrical stream of frustrated hatred. He could not determine the feeling’s source or even what it was directed at, but a single word ran through his mind like a distant voice: hunt … hunt … hunt. The dream flipped like a slideshow, and now he was in a clearing with his family and his friends. He was there, but he seemed to float above them, and then he realized that he stood on a ledge above them. He could hear the sound of their voices, but his mind could not understand the words. These people inspired an emotion within him. It was a feeling like love, but not love. His mind found only a single word: belonging. He sensed there was something else. There was danger somewhere. No, there was danger everywhere. They were running from something, but that something was coming, and it was coming faster than they could flee. He also knew, although he didn’t know how he knew, that they were headed into another unseen danger. The things that pursued herded them toward something just as dangerous. It confused him because the scene before him felt “after” all that danger, and it did not make sense. Still, he wanted to warn them, but he had no words for it. The slideshow slipped again, and there stood a man in the shadows. The man felt familiar, like a memory or a word that is just beyond reach. The man told him something, and the words resonated in his mind not with the coherent meaning of language but more like symbols—meaning understood in general but not specifically. He understood that the man wanted to communicate there would be change, that Austin was critical to that change, and that there was something that must be done. He sensed the man’s sorrow but did not understand its source, although it felt as if he might be the source of that sadness. But he was strong now, so much stronger; he would hunt and he would kill. Austin dreamt more, but later it was all forgotten.
Brandon cursed.
It would be far easier to have no faith in God than to constantly rail against such an unfair and heartless deity. He could not become the rational atheist even though such a state might provide him the simple pleasure of believing that there was no greater being, so struggles of faith could be forgotten. He had tried to embrace such logic, but it escaped him, and he hated himself for that weakness. Instead, he cursed the Great Father, argued with him, screamed at him, and then begged him for a little help. At every turn, they seemed to find more death, more problems, and more pain. If God wanted or required their deaths, then just let the infected take them. He considered that perhaps there was a reason for all this and that God had a greater plan than just the slow torture of a few kids. On the other hand, perhaps their own strength and power prevented the Great Jokester from killing them. That thought is what kept him going. The possibility that all his efforts were the greatest “fuck you” God had ever faced. He had tried everything else to this point. He had prayed for help; he had prayed for mercy, for forgiveness—fuck, he had asked for just one damn sign that they were on some holy and divine path. The only signs he had received so far was watching friends die. God was definitely getting a punch in the face when Brandon died, assuming he actually went to heaven. With all of his bitching, he considered that in death, he’d probably be riding the elevator down. He’d find a way to get there though, even if he had to join Team Fallen Angel to do it. Brandon rolled over and tried to sleep. “Come on, God. Just a little bit of help for my friends. I’ll even promise to join the priesthood if you can hook me up this once.” As usual, God was silent on the subject. “Okay, then, fuck you. I’ll take care of my friends on my own.” He finally slept.
Nick smiled.
Golden didn’t smile back, but that didn’t matter to Nick. He and Goldie had a bond of friendship that went beyond words. The others wondered what went on behind her blue shark eyes; Nick didn’t, though. He could see the storm there—the pain, the anger, the signs of some terrible dialogue that the music couldn’t drown out. Yes, he understood Golden because they were both trying to get to the same place. A place you could call home, a place sheltered from the cold world. There were many paths from here to there, though; a person could get lost on the wrong one, so each crossroad required contemplation. To make the right choice one had to constantly attend their moral compass, for there was always a difference between being right and the cost of being right. That difference was often very subtle and very hard to discern. He needed to traverse this outside nightmare world, but he needed to do so without losing himself. If he lost his way, then that place called home would never be found. Golden did the same as he, but her paths were still mostly on the inside. He knew she traveled many dark hallways and that each seemed to lead back to an equally dark closet door. She was his friend, though, even if she never spoke a word, and he would be here outside that closet when she finally turned around and opened that door.
Adam talked.
Brad listened and nodded where it seemed appropriate. His friend was a good guy, but perhaps a little too eager to put his pride before the group’s well-being. Adam had never played football; if he had, Brad reasoned, Adam would understand that everyone has a place on the team. If everyone was the quarterback, then there’d be no one to catch the ball. There’d be no line to protect the quarterback. He wished his friend would stop trying to be the quarterback and see that it didn’t make him any less important to the team. Brad was tired of having to take sides; he didn’t want to fight with anyone, and they had enough to deal with just trying to stay alive. And he loved Annie, and Annie was Devin’s sister; if she believed in her brother, that was good enough for Brad.
“You see what I’m saying, dude? Devin isn’t always right, you know. Sometimes there are better people suited for making the tough decisions.”
“Dude, I think Dev has made plenty of tough decisions.”
“Yeah, sure, but are they the right ones? That’s the big question. I mean he’s distracted because he’s so concerned about his family and his girl. That kind of emotion has no place in decision-making.”
“Love and concern has no place in the decision-making?” Brad asked and tilted his head.
“Dude, you know what I mean,” Adam said, but he looked away as he spoke.
“So you’d do things differently?” Brad asked.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Like Reflections Lake?”
“Hey, fuck you, that shit was not my fault. You heard Devin—that’s on him.”
Brad stood up, disgusted with
his friend.
“Bro, we’re friends.” He leveled his stare at Adam. “But we all know whose decision that train wreck was. Maybe you should consider that your spot on the team isn’t about throwing the ball.”
“Where’s this shit comin’ from? Oh, let me guess, you want to do the little dancer, so now you’re on their team?”
“Adam, listen to you. ‘Their team’? Last I checked it’s one team. Team Survival.”
Adam looked away, but Brad could see his frustration.
“Adam, I’m your friend, and so is Devin. I don’t think he wants to be in charge. I don’t think he wants to have to make all the decisions, and I think that makes him pretty damn good at the job. There’s no ‘I’ in team, dude. Think it over because we could really use your help without it always having to be your way or the highway.”
“So what are you saying? That from now on, you’ll side with Devin?”
“I’m saying if saving those kids, my friends … or Annie means that Devin needs me to run the ball up the middle, then that’s exactly what I will do. And from now on, that’s what you’ll do.”
“Really, and what makes you so sure?”
“Because you’re a good guy and you’re smart enough to know better and”—Brad paused and then said, “Because I’ll break something off you if you mess this up.”
Brad smiled at his friend, but the icy note of seriousness was not lost on Adam.
Adam nodded, sighed, and then he smiled. “Yeah, whatever. I’m a better lone wolf.”
Brad shook his head. His friend’s passion came on like a firestorm and died just as quickly. He could only wonder what the next “cause” would be.
Annie cried.
She hated to cry. It made her feel weak, and she didn’t want to be weak. But her friends kept dying, and even though she knew that it was no one’s fault, she still could not control the well of emotions and the deep sense of loss. She could not imagine what would happen if she lost her sister or her brothers, or Brad. In her heart, she knew she would lose them, if not today or tomorrow, then next week or next year. The certainty of it made her cry even harder. She wished that she didn’t have the ability to love. For a time, she had pretended that she felt no such emotion, but that had always been a lie. Just like all the times when she was hurt and had played tough until she could hide in her bedroom and cry herself to sleep. She wished she was in her bedroom now and that her biggest concern was Facebook drama or deciding what to do with the rest of her life. She knew those were little girl dreams. Just wishes for a carefree existence from a world that was dead. Her tears, though, weren’t only over the loss of so much: they were tears of truth. And the truth scared her. No matter how hard she tried, she would never be the coldhearted bitch she pretended to be. On the inside, she was warm, she loved deeply, and she was loyal to those she loved. And all of that, which should be so wonderful, made her weak and vulnerable. At least Caroline and Susan were honest about who they were. They didn’t pick up guns and knives and try to fight like the guys. They took care of the guys, they took care of the children, they cooked, and they were okay with being soft and in need of protection. That made her laugh because she couldn’t be that either. Laughing made her feel better, and it reminded her not to take herself so seriously. She rolled over and closed her eyes. She would find her Zen yet, she would figure out how to be her, and she would try to be the strongest woman possible. That had to be enough because it was all she had to give.
You and Me against the World: The Creepers Saga Book 1 Page 18
