by Lundy, W. J.
Brad stopped and pointed it out to Sean, who nodded in reply before ordering Brad forward. Brad kept his rifle at the low ready and continued moving towards the front of the building. Once in position, he paused and watched as Sean now got close to the edge of the cabin, stooped low under the window and proceeded to the front corner. Then, Sean waited for Brad to move back online with him before he stepped off, and once again moved out and away from the cabin, allowing Brad to see around the corner at a distance while keeping Sean concealed.
The first thing that caught Brad’s attention was the snowmobile, the one the brothers had ridden into town. It was no more than twenty meters in front of the cabin. As Brad focused on the sled, he looked to the left and saw them – scattered bodies in the snow and all along the front of the cabin. Instantly he brought the rifle up to his eye and took a knee. Sean recognized his change in posture and took a step back while bringing up his own weapon.
Brad took a deep breath and, keeping the rifle at eye level, approached the cabin. He moved a few feet at a time, stopping to sweep everything in front of him for movement. As he got closer he could see that the dead were piled up against the cabin’s doors. He could see where the snowmobile had entered the yard, the wide deep track coming from the road. The primals’ footprints were embedded in the sled’s tracks. The brothers had been followed home.
When Brad got back online with Sean at the cabin’s corner he stopped. Sean nodded before stepping out from the blind spot and moved to where he was almost shoulder to shoulder again with Brad. Then the two men stepped off together. The cabin’s door was still secured even though several of the planks had been broken. Brad stepped over the bodies, cautiously probing them with his rifle’s barrel as he passed them.
Sean slid close to the door and tugged on it. It was still bolted from the inside. They moved past the door, seeing that the front window was shattered, its shutter removed. Brad stepped out away from the building, training his rifle at the opening while Sean peeked inside. He looked in, then quickly pulled his head back. “Yeah, they got in,” Sean said.
“Our guys?”
“I couldn’t tell. It’s a mess.”
Suddenly there was a loud crash from inside, and the men jumped back as they brought up their weapons. Sean stepped back to join Brad away from the cabin. They held their sights high on the window as they heard the clattering of objects and furniture being knocked over. There was a thump at the door. The two men pivoted, focusing on the entrance. Brad prepared to fire when he heard the latch click. Sean brought his hand up and put it on Brad’s shoulder.
The door opened and Hahn tumbled out onto the porch. Brad ran to him and went to lift him up. He stopped when he saw blood on his shirt. Hahn rolled to the side and looked Brad in the eyes. “It’s not my blood, I’m not infected,” Hahn said in a weak voice.
Brad reached down and grabbed Hahn under the shoulders, attempting to move him. Hahn grimaced in pain. “Just help me up, I can walk dammit,” he mumbled.
Brad pulled him to his feet and walked him towards the far side of the porch and away from the primal bodies. Sean dropped his pack and they set Hahn up against it. Hahn collapsed, leaning back against the building. His left arm was hanging limp, his left hand a crumpled mess, his entire torso covered in blood. Most of his body armor had been torn away.
“What happened to you, you sure you’re not bit?” Brad asked.
“Yeah, if I was bit I woulda turned by now … I kept waiting for it to happen, I was ready to off myself if the symptoms started. But it hasn’t happened, no fever yet,” Hahn whispered.
“You’re not bit? Scratched?” Brad asked.
“I’m fucked up. They got ahold of me, then chewed the shit out of my hand and forearm … but the bite shirts and Kevlar gloves, yeah, they fucking work. “
“No shit,” Brad said as he moved to examine Hahn’s arms. He could see that there were teeth marks in the leather of the Kevlar gloves, but no punctures. The fingers looked to have been smashed inside the material. Hahn’s left forearm had depressions in the material and his uniform shirt was torn away, exposing the bite shirt underneath. The bite shirt was made of tightly woven Kevlar fabric; they had been issued to them back on the island. There were doubts that they would hold up against an attack. A dog would easily rip the material apart, but human teeth are not the same as a dog’s. Brad used his gloved hand to feel Hahn’s arm. He could feel lumps of torn and mashed flesh underneath, but the compression of the shirt was holding his arm together. To Brad it felt like someone had tenderized a steak inside of a freezer bag.
“I know it’s bad. I think they dislocated my elbow too, I can’t use my arm,” Hahn said.
Sean moved forward and cut away more of the bloody outer uniform shirt, exposing the bite shirt. “Brad, give him some of the painkillers, shit, antibiotics too,” he said as he used a bottle from his bag to rinse away the primal blood.
Brad looked through the bag, staring at the bottles of medications. “What do I give him?”
“Make him a cocktail, I don’t know but we need to get moving, we can’t stay here,” Sean said, lifting Hahn’s mangled arm so that he could remove the material below it. Hahn gritted his teeth and grunted in protest. “Hahn, I’m not going to remove the bite shirt and risk exposing the wound to the contaminated blood on your uniform. I’m just going to immobilize it for now, okay?”
“Do what you got to do,” Hahn said, shaking with pain.
Brad finished clearing the wounded area so that Hahn’s arm was now resting tightly against his body. Then Sean rushed into the cabin and came back out with an armful of bedding from one of the bunks. He quickly cut a bed sheet into strips and used it to make a sling that he attached to Hahn’s arm. Brad interrupted Sean just long enough to give Hahn several pills.
“I don’t know what’s what in here, but these were locked up. Must be the good stuff,” Brad said skeptically as Hahn took them and swallowed water heavily.
“What happened here, Hahn?” Sean asked as he continued to work.
“Huh.” Hahn looked up into Sean’s face. “It was those Marines. The Villegases. They came back last night on that snow mobile, rode it right up into the yard.”
“Why would they do that, they led them right to ya!” Brad exclaimed.
“Yeah, we argued about it, but they didn’t listen. They told us they lost them out there in the woods. They said they were cold and didn’t want to freeze. According to them they are experts at evasion, they figured nothing would be able to follow them.”
Sean wrapped a long strip of the bed sheet around Hahn’s torso, suspending his arm. “Okay, so they followed the brothers back. Got it, but where did they go?”
Hahn coughed again, spitting more blood onto the plank porch. He paused, then took a long draw of water. “Last night, it was late, everyone had turned in. Somehow they got past Parker on watch. They were in close before he noticed them. Parker was the first to sound the alarm, but too late to do anything. The primals attacked the door right off. Piling against it, moaning and fighting. But these were the fast ones, the strong ones.
“When they could see that the door wasn’t going to give they put their attention on the window. They ripped off the shutters and broke the glass. We fired on them, stopped the first attack, used up all of the belted SAW ammo pretty quick, but more came. Lots of them … More fast ones. They hit the front and the sides. We decided to break out of the back, make a run for the tree line. Me and Parker kept them busy at the front while the others slipped out.
“The boy, he and Nelson led the way, the Villegases right behind them. They put down covering fire for us to bail out. Parker and I made a break for the back. I shoved him out of the window but one of those things got my arm, latched onto me like a German shepherd and pulled me to the ground. I gut shot that fucker before Parker killed it. But it bit me, fucked up my arm and fingers. I thought I was done, infected you know, I told the others to get, to leave me.
“I fough
t my way back into the cabin, just kept shooting and fighting, trying to keep the mob focused on me so the others could escape. The damn things got inside so I made my way to the attic and kicked down the ladder. The smelly bastards kept coming. I killed them till my rifle was dry. I saved me some rounds in the pistol, I figured maybe I’d save one for myself.
“I killed them all, all of ‘em. I thought the fever would take me, I waited for it all morning, but I never turned. I guess whatever nasty shit is on their teeth never got through the Kevlar. But they still messed me up, I can’t barely move my arm. I know they did me good, I can feel the blood in my glove.
“I musta passed out. When I heard you all talking I tried to get down. Guess I fell, it fucking hurt,” Hahn said, chuckling.
Sean squeezed the man’s good shoulder. “You did good, Hahn, and looks like our guys got away thanks to you.”
When Sean had finished slinging Hahn’s arm he leaned him back against the cabin wall and covered him with a heavy blanket, then allowed him to rest while the drugs kicked in. Sean opened a new water bottle and placed it in Hahn’s hand. The wounded man took it and began to sip, stopping to cough and spit blood out and onto his chin. Hahn coughed a bit more then gave an exaggerated chuckle. “Maybe I broke a rib or two … I know I look bad … but shit, did you see the other guys?” Hahn grinned, indicating the inside of the cabin.
Brad gave Hahn a concerned look as he tucked the blanket in around him. Sean grabbed Brad’s elbow. “Brad, can you help me take a look inside? We need to collect our rucksacks and salvage what we can before we move out.”
Brad turned to look back at Sean who wore the same concerned expression. He followed Sean into the cabin. The space was turned upside down. The bunks were knocked over, and all of the furniture was destroyed. The floor was littered with mangled and broken bodies. The ladder that led up to the attic was destroyed at the top rungs, and a grotesque pile of bodies lay at the bottom of it. Brad walked to the wood stove and felt the top. “Stove is still warm, let’s go. They can’t be too far ahead of us. Sean, I don’t think there is anything in here worth salvaging. Or anything I would want,” Brad whispered.
“Oh yeah, what about those?” Sean said, pointing at a large male primal’s feet. “They look to be the right size and toasty warm.”
“No, come on man, fuck no, man, that’s gross,” Brad said, looking at a set of heavy leather boots strapped to the stocky legs of a nearly decapitated body.
“Beats frostbite, and you aren’t going to last long with wet and frozen feet,” Sean said. “Hey, at least they look broken in, so you won’t get blisters.”
“I don’t think I can do it. No, I’m okay, these boots have served me well. I’ll be okay.”
Sean grunted before kneeling down to untie the boot laces. “You know what, buddy, I’m gonna help you out and pull these off for you okay? But that’s not the real reason I brought you in here.”
“Yeah?” Brad said, trying not to look disgusted at the thought of wearing primal boots.
“It’s Hahn, he’s messed up bad, I don’t know that he can travel,” Sean said.
Brad reached down on the kitchen floor and picked up a can of roast beef. He looked at the label and tossed the can in the air, catching it with his free hand. “Yeah, but we can’t leave him.”
“I know, leaving him alone isn’t an option,” Sean said.
“Alone?”
“Someone has to stay with—” Sean was interrupted midsentence by the sounds of moans.
Brad turned and walked towards the open window. Five to six staggering figures were moving up the driveway. “We have company.”
Sean tossed the boots at Brad’s chest before rushing back out onto the front porch with Brad close behind him. When the creatures spotted them on the porch their moans got louder. Brad started to raise his rifle before Sean stepped in front of him. “Let’s save our ammo. We can take these slow ones down the old-fashioned way,” Sean said as he reached down and picked up the large splitting axe from the wood pile.
Brad clipped his M4 back to his vest. He returned to the cabin, searching the floor. Finding what he was looking for, he reached down and lifted a long iron fireplace poker. He moved back outside. Sean had removed Hahn’s sidearm from his holster and placed it into Hahn’s good hand. “We’re gonna take care of these guys, we’ll be right back,” Sean said, looking directly into Hahn’s eyes. Hahn nodded. His eyes had grown glassy and his face had lost expression. Apparently whatever drugs Brad had given him were working.
Sean put his hand on Hahn’s shoulder before turning to face Brad. “You ready to go to work?”
“Let’s do it.”
The group of primals that shambled up the snow-covered driveway were slow. They staggered and often fell, being easily tripped up in high drifts of snow. Brad and Sean watched them, almost amused at their behavior. They didn’t stick together, even though they seemed to have a common goal: to go after the living. But their plan of attack wasn’t coordinated, not like any they had seen with the Alphas, not even like the ones they had fought in the desert.
Brad and Sean moved towards the group of them, then spread apart to the left and right side of the mass. The primals seemed to be confused by this, not knowing which direction to go. Then the pack started to drift to the right towards Sean. Brad yelled and waved his hands, distracting them and drawing them back in his direction. All six of them liked the invitation; they locked on Brad and staggered towards him, now seemingly uninterested in Sean.
Sean held his position as Brad, who was now walking backwards, began leading them to the center of the field and away from Hahn and the cabin. Brad slapped the poker against his gloved hand, pulled his tomahawk from its sheath with his left, and clanged the metal weapons together, further agitating the slow-moving crazies. Brad began taunting them, yelling obscenities. He planted his feet shoulder-width apart and urged the primals to get him.
The primals now completely engaged on Brad had become oblivious to Sean, who worked his way behind the group. Brad continued to yell obscenities and bang the ‘hawk and poker together, infuriating the primals. Brad grinned as he watched Sean move up on one of the trailing primals. With a heavy overhand swing of the axe, he split a primal’s head. The thing tumbled and collapsed into the snow without any of his comrades taking notice.
“Damn, Sean, these things are dumb as hell,” Brad yelled over the moaning creatures.
Two of the primals had closed to within ten feet of Brad who was still moving backwards at a pace just fast enough to stay ahead of them. “You want to see just how dumb?” Sean yelled.
The sound of Sean’s voice stopped the creatures in their tracks; they turned to see Sean standing directly behind them. Brad froze, not moving or making a sound. This was enough to distract the primals. They clumsily twisted in the snow, changing direction and heading back towards Sean. As soon as the two closest to Brad had turned their backs to him, Brad lunged forward. He split the back of the nearest primal’s head with his ‘hawk, the blade sticking in the back of its skull. Brad let go of the handle and let the creature take the ‘hawk with it to the ground.
Brad took three quick steps towards the next primal. Now gripping the poker two-handed he swung hard and slapped the creature in the side of the head. There was a large whack as the iron connected with bone. The primal stopped and fell to a knee but didn’t go over. It turned its head to face Brad, a look of recognition hitting its face as it opened its mouth to scream at the nearby prey. Brad lifted the poker over his head and crashed it down onto the primal’s skull, silencing it.
His actions and the primal’s momentary scream had turned the remainder of the pack back towards him and away from Sean. Brad gripped the poker tight as he casually walked back to the first downed crazy and removed his ‘hawk from its skull. He looked over his shoulder to see that the remaining three primals were still following him. “Yeah, they are satisfactorily stupid,” Brad yelled out just as Sean swung with the axe and kno
cked over another primal that had turned his back on him.
With two left, Brad continued to walk back and lead them towards him. Sean closed the distance on the trailing primal. He used the head of the axe to poke it in the back. The primal stopped and turned around just as Sean swung, removing its lower jaw with a baseball swing. With one left, Brad stopped moving away from it. The last primal was shirtless, its skin ashen and frostbitten. Parts of its flesh were torn and bitten away. There were remnants of gauze bandages loosely hanging from its neck.
“Look at this, Sean, how is this guy still on his feet?” Brad said as he thrust the poker into the thing’s chest, knocking it into the snow. The primal let out a weak moan as it fell face first into a drift. Sean moved up behind it as it struggled to crawl back to its feet. Sean stepped over and used the heel of his boot to shove it back to the ground.
“Is this a different type? Or a progression of the disease?” Sean said. “Have you noticed we only see these guys in the daylight, and the fast ones at night?”
The creature crawled forward again and slid to its knees. It lifted itself up, locking eyes with Brad before letting out another groan. Brad took the tip of the poker and stabbed it high in the shoulder, pushing the primal to its back as it screamed at him in response. Brad stepped forward and delivered a front kick to the thing’s chest, knocking it back into the snow. The creature lay on its back, the fresh puncture in its shoulder filling with blood. Sean stepped into position and dropped the axe heavily, crushing the thing’s head and putting it out of its misery.
Brad pointed towards the hole he had created in the creature’s shoulder with the poker, seeing the wound begin to fill with blood. “Are they still alive? I mean, before you crushed its head.”
“This is crazy shit, I think we have us some zombies?” Sean said.
