“I don't want you to cut me open!” a young woman's voice screamed, full of panic.
“Chris, it'll be okay, I'm here with you.” Another female voice consoled, it was a voice that Tar didn't recognize.
A few moments passed as the girl, in hysterics, bawled and raged at the idea. Tar moved to the nurse’s station and managed to start a pot of coffee brewing. As much as he had no interest in seeing a child be cut out of a person, he needed to talk to Linda before he tried to make his way home. There was also the need to sit down; he was sweating and thoroughly exhausted from the effort of coming downstairs.
“Christine, I know it's scary, but your water broke what? Fifteen hours ago? Your cervix has been stalled at five centimeters since you came in,” Linda pleaded, her voice soft in the light of the girl's hysterics.
“Okay . . .” The pregnant girl blabbered finally as the manic crying slowed into sobbing.
The chaos previous was apparently the calm before the storm. Once the girl acquiesced to the procedure, everyone converged on the gurney. Even if Tar were inclined to watch, there was no way he'd be able to see anything in the press of bodies anyhow.
It was only when people moved to the triage area and the girl's sobs mellowed that Tar heard the sound. At first he didn't believe it, thinking his head was still full of cotton. After a few more moments, he was sure about it. There was gunfire sounding from outside, and a lot of it. That was the first inkling he had that something was seriously wrong.
“What the hell is going on out there?” he asked, struggling to get to his feet.
“Tar?” Linda called from beside the gurney, her masked face looking at him for the first time since he'd come down. “What the hell are you doing out of bed?”
“Idle hands, Linda, places to go and such,” he said absently as he moved towards the doors at reception.
Reaching the door and peering through the glass, he could see heavy smoke diffusing into the slate gray skies in the distant west. Gunfire continued to rattle off from multiple weapons in the distance.
“Whatever it is Tar, Yen can handle it. Can you please get off your feet now?” Linda called from the triage area. “We can talk once the baby is out.”
*
The guard had no further finished his statement about Christine's potential for a cesarean, when the sounds of an explosion sounded from the southwest. The guard's two-way radio immediately started squawking unintelligible garbled voices and shouts from where it sat on his hip. He brought it to his mouth in an attempt to speak into it, but there was no pause in the panicked shouts and screams. Instead, he and the others looked at one another nervously before they turned about and started off at a jog, moving back to the barricades.
Tim, Laura, and Will stared blankly after the guards, knowing that something was happening, but having no idea what. Will was on the verge of panic, concerned for Jen who was still inside the town. Sounds of gunfire began drifting to them from the west, heightening their anxiety. Tim was just about to speak, to reassure Will that the noises were most likely common in a fortified town, when an air-raid siren cut through the air. The blaring warble sounded close by to the southeast, ruining any chance at a discussion as well as Tim's ability to reassure Will.
Without a word, Tim brought the crutches to Will. They stood there and anxiously watched for a few moments, as the ripples of panic and uncertainty moved through the entire refugee camp. People ran to and fro, seeming uncertain about what to do. Some hastily started packing their camp up while others just stood where they were staring off to the west as the gunfire continued. The sounds of at least one machine gun drifted to them from the distance, followed by that of many small arms shortly after.
“Jen!” Will finally screamed, propelling himself clumsily forwards in the direction of the barricade with the help of the crutches.
Tim hesitantly followed after, turning back as Laura screamed his name.
“I'll be right back, just going to stop him and try to find out what's going on,” he reassured her, before continuing after Will.
The pair moved into the main body of the refugee camp, with Will leading them towards a pair of guards he spotted from a distance. The two men were standing near to where the barricade met the guardrail, chattering nervously.
“What is it?” Will barked up to the trio of guards standing in front of the wall of crushed cars, as he hobbled in towards them.
The men ignored him, instead intent on listening to the garbled mess of static and screaming coming through the two-way radio they held between them.
“Gil, Terry, get the rest of the camp guard over to the west gate and find out what the fuck is going on,” a red-faced man screamed down to them from atop the barricade.
“Shit!” one of them grumbled before they moved off.
Left with no answers, Will maneuvered to the barricade. Tim hesitantly followed behind him, every step that took him further from his family made him increasingly nervous. He hated being away from Laura and Luna in a normal scenario. Now, around this many strangers with the apparent trouble brewing he had to restrain himself from immediately running to them. He knew that Will couldn't walk well and felt at the very least, he owed it to him to try and find out if they could get Jen. He vowed that if the gunfire got any closer he would return to them, with or without Will. The two walked to the base of the wall without challenge, so absorbed were the men atop in trying to figure out what was happening. The pair stood side by side and waited at the base of the barrier, awkwardly, hoping to be noticed and addressed. As moments continued to slip past, it became apparent that they would need to make their presence known.
“Excuse me,” Will shouted up to the machine gunners up top.
Three heads whipped around and down to the two.
“Back away from the wall please,” one of them yelled down.
Will and Tim shuffled painfully back ten feet before looking back up to the men.
“Our friends are in there. At the hospital. The pregnant girl that came in yesterday, and another girl,” Will started.
“What about them?” The gruff, red-faced man called back.
“We are getting nervous about them, with all the gunfire. What's happening in there? Are our people in any danger?” Tim asked, irritated with the dismissive way the guards were treating them.
They impatiently watched a brief hushed discussion among the men atop the barricade before one of the men finally responded.
“Soon as we can spare someone to go check on them, we will. In the meantime, you'll just have to be patient.”
“That doesn't work for us,” Will shouted.
Tim could tell Will was on the edge, and even though the man had every reason to be, he knew it wasn't going to help their argument.
“Listen,” an older woman called down. “We are trying to figure out what's going on. Please be patient and we will do what we can to find out about the girls.”
The woman's earnestness somewhat diffused Will's immediate anger, though he paced almost frantically about on his crutches. His racing heart and adrenaline wouldn't allow his body to stop moving. He propelled himself up and down the front of the barrier as Tim watched helplessly. He felt for the man, he couldn't imagine how he'd feel if Laura had chosen to go in with Christine, as the girl had originally asked. As the minutes ticked by, it seemed that no news would be forthcoming from those atop the barricade. Tim finally managed to steer Will back to camp.
“What is it?” Laura asked as the two stepped into the clearing, moving towards the campfire.
“No clue. If the guards know they aren't telling us either,” Tim responded, nodding towards Will.
Laura could see that the man was a wreck as soon as she laid eyes on him. His face was ashen and his lips were pursed out of pain or concern. As Laura looked from Will back to Tim, her blood ran cold. About a half a mile in the distance, over Will's shoulder and beyond the refugee camp, she spotted a terrifying sight. On the far side of the river, within the li
mits of Donner, Laura watched as dozens of what appeared to be fast undead running across a pasture. Will and Tim both turned, having seen the terror on her face.
“Fuck,” Tim breathed out.
“We gotta get Jen and Chris, now!” Will said as he turned and started hobbling towards the barricade.
The machine guns atop the barricade spun about and started firing towards the inside of the town. Tim turned to his wife.
“I can't let him go alone Laura. Not injured like he is.”
“You can, and you have to, Tim. We need you, we all love them, but this is your family.”
“Laur, I'll be back, I promise. Get everything packed into the Yukon and wait there. If the undead show up before we get back, leave. Head back north to that little town north of here, Cowdrey I think it was called. We'll meet up there.”
*
Yen was jarred awake by the sound of the explosion. He lay in bed for a minute, unsure if the sound was a lingering remnant of a dream or if it were reality. More than a minute passed by in silence before the sounds of gunfire drifted across town to his 'room' in the loft of the barn. His area was merely an eight foot by eight foot patch of floor, partitioned by blankets on two sides and an area rug hanging to make a third wall. He slapped furiously around the bedding he lay atop, looking for his two-way radio. Growing frustrated with the fruitless search, he sat upright and heard the garbled squawking of the thing coming from under where his shoulder had been. He slipped out of his sleeping bag and into his thermal pants and jeans all while listening to the radio intently, waiting for a pause in the chaotic voices or for something intelligible to come through.
“This is Yen, what's going on?” He finally barked into the radio, willing his voice to be heard over the rest of the chatter.
The only response was more garbled chatter and shouts as he moved through the barn. Harold had allowed Yen's people to occupy the barn after the problems with Tyler, and they had, with Harold's permission, modified it to make it their home. The modifications they had made included insulation, installation of a woodfired heating system and a bath area with composting toilets and access to a hand pump for well water. Yen passed through the narrow hallways created by semi-permanent walls his people had set up to afford some privacy in the cramped area. They had made the barn as comfortable as any home in the town.
His pace and his heart-rate both increased steadily as he moved across the barn. As he stepped out into the chilly morning air he noticed that the two guards stationed there were staring intently to the sky in the west. He followed the path of their gaze and no longer needed clarification as to where the emergency was. Smoke billowed up in a huge plume, melding into the cloud cover above the valley. The sounds of a large amount of gunfire echoed off the valley walls.
By the time he made it to the driveway, Harold was already in his truck with Benny and the two newcomers he hadn't the opportunity to meet yet. Yen took a moment to size up the two. Their presence on the eve of the attack left him suspicious. At a glance, he immediately recognized that what Harold had tried to tell him was true. They didn't pose any kind of danger. The man was small and bookwormy and the woman seemed meek, refusing to meet his gaze.
“Leave them here, Harold,” he barked as he pulled open the door behind the driver's seat.
“Right, you two stay here. Don't leave the farm, we'll be back as soon as this mess is sorted out.”
Mark and Amber clambered over themselves to exit the vehicle as Yen climbed in. They were relieved to be allowed to stay. Mark took Amber by the hand and the two ran back into the workshop where they had spent the night. They were both thinking the same thoughts as they moved across the room and huddled next to the woodstove. The explosion rekindled their fears of Grayson and they had no interest in being anywhere near where the man might be leading an attack.
“Any idea what’s going on over there?” Yen asked Harold as he finished pulling his coat on.
“Nope, just a bunch o' screamin' and shit coming over the wire,” Harold replied as he steered the truck out onto route 12 towards the barricade.
They encountered a handful of others making their way to the west barricade as they drove, picking up anyone who was on foot. As they came around the last turn before the barricade, they could see dozens of people fleeing back towards the town proper. Beyond the fleeing men and women sprawled a scene that could only be described as riotous. The shipping containers that had acted as the barricade across the road were cast off to the sides. One lay on its side on the front fence of the O'Connor residence, the other had impaled itself in the side of the barn. Where the containers once lay was now wide open. A black, greasy smoke hung like low-lying fog over everything, obscuring and muddling the early morning scene even further. Through the gap, illuminated and backlit by a number of torches and spreading fires in the camp, they could see the burgeoning catastrophe.
A great number of fast undead had arrived and were ravaging the refugee camp. Yen's heart sank instantly. He knew that, once the guards had disarmed them, the refugees’ lives became his responsibility. Now, his heart dropped and his blood began to boil as he could see fleeting images of those people. They were running in panic in all directions. Yen watched as one after another the refugees were caught or fell to the ground to be descended upon by the undead. He used his anger to overcome his terror at the sight of so many fast undead. He let out a low growl of fury and then he was out and running towards the barn, before the truck had even rolled to a stop. He could tell by the lack of sound from that direction that the machine gun in the loft wasn't manned.
“Benny get the hitch hooked up to the shipping container. We need to get them back across the road!” Harold shouted as he slid the truck into park.
Benny flew out of the rear passenger side door and unhooked the winch cable while flipping the spool to neutral to free the line. He leapt across the drainage ditch and started working furiously, trying to fasten the hook to the mangled steel. It took three attempts before the hook held to the sundered metal. The side that needed to swing was the side where the explosion had torn the steel, leaving very little to attach the winch to. Finally, with the sounds of the inferno raging to the side, the container swung back around coming to rest across the westbound lane. It wasn't perfect, the extensive damage the explosion had caused would prevent that, as well as a gap on the shoulder of the road. He and Harold both recognized that their only hope lay in stemming the tide of undead. If they could swing the other container around to block the inbound lane and narrow the point of ingress, they might be able to rally and stop the undead.
Yen scrambled to the top of the rickety wooden ladder, up to the hay loft and, as he suspected, the Vietnam War-era relic M-60 lay unmanned. What was worse was that it was sitting next to three full cans of ammo. They didn't even fucking try! he cursed as he moved to the weapon. He lay on his stomach and checked the belt feeding the gun before taking aim into the chaos below. The sound of steel tearing and scraping on pavement could be heard for a moment before he pulled the trigger and the sound of metallic thunder blocked everything else out. He did his best to fire in short bursts as the heavy weapon jerked violently in his hands while firing.
He mowed down the undead anywhere he saw them with the heavy weapon. Whether they were walking, running, or feasting on victims, he sent lead in their direction. After a full minute of panning across the camp, choosing his targets and firing into the chaos, the belt feed ran out and he set about reloading the weapon. It was then that the sounds of moaning drifted to his ears. It took him a moment to understand that the sounds were those of the slow undead. As he slammed home the cover he took a moment to examine the area. The sun peeked over the horizon behind them and for the first time he could see the vast sea of undead faces moving across the bridge. As the sky gradually lightened he could see the thousands in the valley beyond and his heart sank. He knew immediately, without a doubt that these were the undead that pursued his people across western Colorado months bef
ore.
Despair clutched his heart and he had to stifle the urge to flee. He forced his trembling hands back to the task at hand. He slammed the cover shut and shouldered the stock of the heavy weapon, taking aim towards the first of the undead he spotted. He silently cursed, seeing that the undead were within yards of where the barricade once sat, having carved their way across the breadth of the camp. The refugees and the undead alike intermingled as they ran, pushing through the gap in the barricade just below him. Yen knew in an instant that if he didn't leave now he'd be trapped up here.
*
Having moved the first of the containers back into position, Benny rushed across the street with the cable to the second container. He was working furiously to get the winch hook connected, when the sounds of nearby screaming and fighting lit panic inside him. Fleeing feet slapped on the pavement just behind, sending a jolt of fear up his spine. Twice, the cable was ripped from his grasp as someone or something tripped on the trailing length behind him. He avoided looking around him, knowing that if he were to look closely that he would lose his nerve. Instead, he breathed deeply and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Get it done and get the hell out! he kept repeating to himself.
Finally, he got the hook connected around the twisted door hinge and started the short run back to the front end of Harold's truck to engage the winch. He could see Harold, leaning out of the driver's window. The man was yelling something to him as he ran. Between the roar from the huge fire that now engulfed the refugee camp and the heavy machine gun fire, all other sound was drowned out. Whatever Harold was trying to communicate was lost in the cacophonous fury of sound.
Confusion racked his brain as he watched Harold lift his pistol, aiming it directly towards him. The flash of his gun firing followed a split-second later. Benny instinctively threw himself to the ground, shredding his elbows and the side of his face on the cold pavement. The gun fired off three more times, eliciting a series of wet impacts from just above him. Benny rolled over and scuttled backwards, hoping that Harold's aim was true. Looking up he could see a number of forms, silhouetted by the light of the flames dropping down atop of him.
Harvest of Ruin (Book 3): A Spring of Sorrow Page 27
