Damned Are We

by Durman, Jason

  steel beams that would never be continued, bags of cement that would never be mixed and

  equipment that would never be used again, all overlooked by a wooden foreman's tower. Various

  floodlights that somehow still had power lit up the area, although shadowy recesses were stil present everywhere.

  Jacob grimaced. He hated construction sites – they offered too many possible hiding places for the

  Infected.

  Wordlessly, Samantha holstered her pistol, pul ed the Winchester 70 from its strap on her shoulder,

  and had it loaded in less than five seconds. She raised her eyebrows questioningly, and the others

  nodded in approval, taking up positions behind makeshift barricades of aggregate bags and concrete

  barriers to cover her.

  The fiery young woman recalled the hunting trips her father had taken her on years ago, and she

  was starting to feel just as comfortable with the rifle now as she did back then. She centred the

  crosshairs of the scope on the head of one unfortunate individual mil ing back and forth on the far

  side of the area.

  BLAM!

  The gunshot sounded deafening in the quiet. As the infected man tumbled to the ground, never to

  move again, the group waited in anticipation for the noise to draw other threats out of hiding.

  However, after a ful minute, nothing and no one appeared.

  "Alright, let's go through this construction yard, and then we can cross the street to the power station on the other side," Corvo said as he stalked forward, leading with Colt M4.

  However, no sooner had they made their way into the middle of the site that the silence was again

  suddenly shattered by a chorus of enraged shrieks as a score of people appeared from shadowy

  corners (and goddamn it, Markus could have sworn that he heard the cry of a Leaper as well).

  Hammering staccato rose up in answer, and flashes of light filled the construction site as the

  combined pulse of hot lead from the assault carbine, HK MP5 and Glock 18 slammed into heads and

  chests, sending blood and brain-matter spraying into the air.

  Corvo adamantly refused to believe that the Common Infected could have set a trap, even though

  the ambushers had clearly waited until their prey was out of cover before revealing themselves, and

  attacking from multiple directions. They could not have possibly retained such a high brain function.

  And if they had… wel , that was a very upsetting thought.

  Sweat beaded Samantha's brow as she fired off several more shots from the Winchester. Three

  infected people went down in a row as a single one of her high-calibre bullets penetrated their

  bodies, one after another. The Infected were closing in fast. She cast down the rifle and drew her

  SIG-Sauer, the pistol barking as she aimed and fired in quick succession, dropping a multitude of

  attackers.

  Something detached itself from the shadows and flung itself at them with a bloodthirsty scream. A

  round of automatic gunfire stopped it in its tracks and a body crumpled to the ground, dark blood

  pooling around it.

  "Nice shot, old man!" Jacob yel ed over the gunfire.

  "Shut up and shoot!" he shouted back.

  It was not a huge crowd which attacked them by any means, but the Common Infected ducked and weaved masterful y behind cover, causing many of their bullets to slam harmlessly into steel girders

  and bags of aggregate, sending puffs of grey dust Corvoowing into the air.

  "I'm low on ammo!" Jacob bel owed.

  At that moment, a trio of bloodthirsty assailants leapt over a pile of forgotten construction equipment

  and made a beeline for him, screaming bloody murder. His ensuing burst of gunfire consumed his

  third-to-last clip. Fortunately, the last of the bodies slumped to the ground around him, and the

  construction site fel silent once more.

  "Fuck me…" Markus breathed.

  "If you ask me, they'll be doin' the country a favour when they bomb this city," Corvo muttered,

  reloading his assault rifle. He glanced at his watch: six-thirty in the evening. Stil over eleven hours

  until the F-16 fighters arrived. "C'mon," he said, starting toward the far side of the construction-made-massacre site. "We've wasted a lot of time, and the army isn't gonna wait for us forever."

  Markus shifted his weight slightly in a vain attempt to make the heavy load on his back more

  comfortable. The backpack was positively-laden with food, weapon supplies, and now some spare

  clothes scavenged from the couple's suitcases back in the hotel. It was a major pain in the ass,

  although he supposed he would much rather be wishing that the bag was lighter instead of wishing it

  was heavier.

  Samantha slung the Winchester rifle back over her shoulder and begrudgingly started after Corvo.

  She gazed over the multitude of slumped and stricken bodies – a host of sick and out-of-mind

  people, murdered by their hand. She was stil angry with the way the old man had so callously

  refused to even check to see if it was indeed a person who needed help back in the Harbour View

  Hotel. The young woman liked to think that if she could help to save someone – anyone – in this

  mess, it could help her to atone for the atrocities she committed down the barrel of a gun.

  She could not help but remember what the old man had said before, back in that little convenience

  store in Fairfield a week ago: "You'll have to do some bad things before this is all over… We'll all have to, if we want to stay alive."

  What were they wil ing to sacrifice, just to survive?

  "I'm sorry," she said slowly to the graveyard that surrounded her. "I real y am."

  Unbeknown to the team of survivors, a pair of gleaming white eyes watched them from nearby, just

  outside of the range of the floodlights in the construction site. Genetic mutation in a person's body

  due to the Green Flu causes, among other things, an additional muscle to develop in each eye to

  help control the dilation and contraction of the pupil.

  At this moment in time, the observer's pupils were ful y open, casting the world in a hazy orange hue.

  However, four organisms held their attention. The calculating brain analysed and determined three

  tal figures, one of which was rather stocky. The fourth, however, was shorter than the others and

  more petite – a lighter and easier target.

  A savage hiss escaped from the predator's lips as it vanished into the darkness.

  Chapter 51

  11.5 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE

  Smoke rose over the buildings as the city of Newburg burned, its streets choked in the hazy orange

  glow of the gathering twilight. Four ant-like figures peered cautiously out from the end of an al eyway

  to see a (sadly) now-common scene of carnage – the headlights of abandoned or overturned cars

  littered the street in one direction, while the menacing figures of hundreds of Infected could be seen

  further up the street the other way.

  "That must be where we came out from the Harbour View Hotel," Corvo whispered. He gripped his

  rifle and motioned for Jacob to lead them across the road. "This way."

  The group quickly crossed the street, covering each other, and entered a darkened area, the earthy

  ground spotted with weedy clumps of grass here and there. Huge pieces of machinery and

  antennae-looking devices were clustered throughout the area, surrounded by chain-link fences.

  "I've always thought these power-plant gizmos look creepy," Jacob said, sparing a glance around.

  "It's a substation," Samantha chimed in.

  "What's
that?"

  "Wel , the power that comes out of a power-plant is too high a voltage for normal household

  appliances, so substations convert the electricity back down to a useable voltage." Realising how

  nerdy she sounded, she shrugged. "Or something like that."

  "How'd you know that?" Markus asked, sounding impressed.

  The young woman smirked. "Just one of many useless tidbits of info I have to offer."

  "Maybe you can shed some light on why Markus is so bald or why Corvo is so old," Jacob cracked

  from his position, crouched down near one of the fences.

  "Quit screwin' around," the gruff voice of the man in question berated the biker as he came over to join them. "A Leaper could've jumped us while you lot were crackin' jokes."

  "Calm your farm," Samantha spiteful y expressed. "We're just having some fun."

  Corvo narrowed his steely grey eyes, finding the challenge to his authority highly irritating. Did they

  al think this was some kind of game? "We got time to have fun, we got time to haul ass." He levelled his Colt M4 forward and moved off into the gloom without another word, Samantha scowling after

  him.

  The grim industrial station was shrouded in a murky darkness, pierced by four flashlights and

  occasional y broken by the muzzle-flash of a pistol. Blood and gore sprayed into the air as the heads

  and chests of the occasional straggling Common Infected were assailed by bullets. The tall spires of

  the substation antennae and machinery, coupled with the chain-link fences, gave rise to a

  claustrophobic setting, and one which Corvo was decidedly not happy with. Claustrophobic

  was not the way one wanted to feel when faced with the possibility of wal -to-wal Infected between

  them and the airport. Not to mention a Leaper could jump these fences in a single bound no

  problem.

  As the group was marching toward a row of maintenance shacks, lit up by a large lighting tower

  which somehow still had power, he held up a palm, signal ing for the group to stop. He and Jacob

  took to inspecting the bodies of some army personnel lying in the shadows for anything useful, the

  argument which had flared up between the two men in the hotel brushed to one side for the moment.

  There were more important things to worry about right now.

  While this was happening, Markus and Samantha kept a vigilant watch back the way they came,

  SIG-Sauers primed and ready. They did not know that danger lurked not behind, but above.

  "For the record," Markus said quietly, "I would've gone with you to see if it was a survivor back in the hotel."

  Samantha grimaced, the haunting sound of crying stil echoing her mind. A fresh flash of anger flared

  up inside her, even as she tried to convince herself that they were doing the right thing. "Corvo was

  probably right," she final y offered. "If we'd run into a Jaguar, we would've been screwed. It's

  probably better if we keep a low profile."

  Her friend quirked an eyebrow at this. "But you don't believe that, do you?"

  "Of course not!" she vented quietly, lowering her pistol to look at him directly. "If everyone thought the same way, there wouldn't be a country united against the Infected anymore, just selfish people

  looking out for themselves."

  "Corvo ain't selfish. He's just doing what he thinks is right."

  "I know. It's just…" Samantha sighed, brushing a strand of dark-brown hair out of her face. "I'm not sure if Corvo's heart is in the right place when it comes to outsiders anymore. Not after what

  happened with the Slaters."

  She could see Corvo had come to care for their little group, and her in particular, greatly. After

  everything that had happened in the past few horrible weeks, she had come to depend on him and

  trust him completely. Her being knocked out, tied up and held hostage by the Slaters had obviously

  shaken Corvo more than she thought. Despite his gruff exterior, there had always been a warmness

  underneath. Samantha knew it was stil there, only it was now boarded up behind a cold, hard drive

  to get them al to safety, and to hell with anyone else.

  She did not like the changes she was seeing in the old man.

  "Don't worry, once we get rescued by the army, everything wil be better," Markus' voice cut into her thoughts. He shot her a reassuring smile. "I promise."

  Samantha returned the smile, once again finding herself appreciating how the man's upbeat attitude

  could always brighten her mood. "Thanks, Markus. You've always been a good friend in al this. In

  fact, you're probably my best friend now."

  Before he could reply, an awful slurping noise echoed around them.

  SHLKT!

  Something wrapped tightly around her, and she thought one of the others was grabbing her for some

  reason. Next thing she knew, she was off her feet and being slammed into the side of one of the

  surrounding buildings, her senses stunned and dazed. Why was she being dragged up a building…?

  "Smoker's got Samantha!" she heard Markus' voice shout out from somewhere down below.

  Gunfire rang out, but she was pul ed up and over the roof, and still the tentacle-like tongue

  constricted her tightly, not al owing her to reach for any of her guns.

  Oh, god.

  She could not twist around to see what had her, but she could hear it breathing, rasping, right behind

  her. As she regained her senses, she struggled desperately against the beast's hold, but shrieked

  when she felt a ragged claw slash across her face, and the warm sensation of blood trickling down

  her cheek.

  Her blood.

  That was nothing compared to what happened next. Samantha screamed in pain when she felt the

  sharp stabbing of teeth sinking into her skin. It was utter agony, and she struggled more violently, but that only increased the terrible pain at the base of her neck. The tentacle snaked tighter around her

  throat, cutting off her oxygen. She started to gag, and for the second time in two days, the edges of

  her vision faded to black.

  This was it. She was going to die. That was the only coherent thought she could manage in her

  current state of mind, her lungs failing her.

  The next thing she knew, she slumped over, her head hitting the rooftop hard, but she barely

  registered the shock. The former col ege student's focus was completely muddled, hazed and racked

  with pain. The air was filled with smoke, and she was vaguely aware of four fits of coughing

  somewhere nearby. It took her a moment to comprehend that one of them was her own. Her lungs –

  previously starved of oxygen – were now fil ed with the acrid green smoke, and the sudden shift

  made her feel sick.

  Corvo led the way out onto the rooftop of the maintenance building, his pistol held forward in case

  there were any more of the long-tongued bastards around. The hazy smoke clouded the air,

  obscuring his vision, which only added to his panic when he could not see Samantha right away.

  When she had been snatched, the wily old man charged right into the building and up two flights of

  stairs while horrible screams erupted above him. He cursed the whole time – the damn Smoker, the

  bloody stairs, Markus for not paying attention. He was not going to lose anyone. Not on his watch.

  His heart leapt into his mouth when Markus' voice rang out, "She's over here!"

  The prone form of the girl stirred when she heard the vaguely familiar voice, and looked up, her

  vision blurred and bleary. Why did everything hurt so much?

  "Hey, Samantha," Markus' anxious face appeared through the smoke, a hand held over his
mouth.

  "She's bleeding," Corvo said worriedly. He nodded to Jacob. "You carry her. We gotta find some shelter while we patch her up."

  The biker scooped her up in his arms without a word, and then they made their way over the roof

  and back inside the building. Samantha's vision was swimming. She opened her mouth to try and

  warn them what had happened, but was hit with a sudden wave of nausea.

  "Hey." Jacob gave her a rough shake, jarring her. "Stay awake."

  Ohhhhhh, she was going to puke if he kept jostling her like that. Her head was throbbing like hell,

  she felt dizzy and disoriented, and ready to throw up. Were these the symptoms someone felt right

  before they turned…?

  "Through here!" Corvo said, leading them into a smal and cluttered storage room. "How's she doing, Jacob?"

  "She's not lookin' so hot," came the gruff reply. "Come on, Samantha, stay with me," he growled, giving her another shake.

  "Stop it…" she muttered, squinting her eyes open. Why was she even being carried? What

  happened…? Her vision was blurred and she couldn't real y see anything anyway, so she closed her

  eyes, only to be jostled again. The asshole real y needed to stop shaking her like that.

  "Set her down over here," Corvo instructed, sweeping aside the clutter on a wooden table against

  one wal while Markus closed and barricaded the door.

  Jacob quickly made his way across the room, ignoring the low groans of protest coming from the

  limp form in his arms. As soon as he set her down on the table, her eyelids drooped, but he snapped

  his fingers in her face, startling her awake again.

  "That Smoker gave off a lot of gas," Corvo said, opening the medical pack. "I hope that stuff ain't poisonous."

  Wait… Smoker…? In a rush of recol ection, Samantha remembered what happened. She had to

  warn them! "Guys," she said in a thick voice. "I've been bitten – " The rest of her sentence was cut off as she leaned over the side of the table and vomited on the floor.

  "Oh, shit," Markus breathed.

  Corvo surveyed her grimly. She had a nasty bump on her head where she had fal en… and there

  was a scratch across her cheek, as wel as a nasty-looking bite on her shoulder, near the base of her

  neck. The wound was bleeding considerably…