Evolution Z (Book 3): Stage Three

by Bourne, David

  Scott briefly looked back at the others. Ray was near the helicopter, holding Watson in his arm. Nika and Screw had reached him by now.

  “Come on, Scott! We have to get inside the church!” Ray pointed at the house of worship. At this moment, Scott could only hear Ray’s voice like a faraway static. His steady gaze was fixated on the remainder of the zombie group that shuffled closer and made smacking noises. Why should they retreat now? He was just warming up. Scott felt the blood pounding in his veins. As if in slow motion, he looked over his shoulder again to see Nika and Screw looking at him with worried expressions. He saw that they were calling to him. Ray’s lips also moved, but Scott could not hear a word he was saying. Watson appeared to bark, but he could not perceive this either. It was like the volume of outside sounds had been turned way down. Then he looked ahead again. He had experienced this feeling before–back then in the fight at Chris’s vacation home. During the battle for Fort Weeks a few days ago, it had flared up again. Now this consuming bloodlust had seized him once more. How many of these monsters were there this time? Ten? Fifteen? No matter, it would be quick. He would eliminate the beasts in a few moments, and then they could go the church undisturbed.

  With a loud primal scream Scott launched himself at the undead in front of him. He had already moved his ax backward so swiftly that the first undead in the group did not even have time to raise their arms and reach for him. Before they could even try, their bodies lay in a motionless heap on the muddy ground. The others did not fare any better—it was a veritable massacre. Scott eliminated one creature after the other, and he ended up being splattered with their blood. He was lucky none of it ended up in his mouth. Two more zombies ahead of him tried to attack, but a few swings of the ax sent them on their last journey. Like a combine harvester in a wheat field he efficiently cut a swath through the group of undead, so that only a few specimens were left standing–two on one side and four on the other.

  Scott took a deep breath and looked around. Sweat dripped down his face and mixed with the blood of the undead, which gave him a bizarre kind of war paint. Then he turned to the two remaining zombies on his right side. With the precision of a guillotine he first severed their arms to keep them from grabbing him. When they tried to snap at him with their mouths, they lacked their arms to keep them steady. Both immediately lost their balance and fell forward to the ground. Scott kicked with his thick boots against the skull of one of them, which had been softened by decay to the point it was nothing more than liquid brain matter squirting out of it. He hit the other one with his ax against the back of its neck. Then it happened.

  The weapon became deeply lodged in the undead’s spine and when he soon noticed the resistance, Scott jerked at the ax with all his strength, but could not get it out. He turned around and saw the four remaining creatures had almost reached him, with one trying to catch hold of his head. Completely caught off guard, Scott stumbled backward and fell over one of the corpses lying on the ground. Landing hard on his back forced the air from his lungs. As the mob came nearer, he could hear the greedy, rattling breath of one of the zombies that attacked him. Scott instinctively raised his right foot and smashed it into the skull of his attacker before the monster could land on him. Simultaneously, Scott managed to quickly roll onto his left side and tried to get back on his feet again. He was attempting to stand, when instead his hands and feet slipped on the wet meadow. With a groan Scott once again fell to the ground, only this time he landed on his belly. Within seconds, the euphoria of bloodlust gave way to utter despair, and he vainly crawled forward to increase the distance to his pursuers but only kept repeatedly slipping. Then the remaining three zombies reached him and went on the attack. The first one landed on his back, but Scott was alert enough to push his elbow into the attacker’s head, which sent it flying backward. Scott turned around and threw the beast off. For a short moment he gained hope again and was sure he would make it. Then his field of view darkened when the three remaining creatures had reached him and were now towering over him. Out of the corner of his eyes he also saw the zombie he had thrown off was starting to crawl toward him. He felt something bite his ankle. Shortly before the other three undead descended upon him, Scott closed his eyes and thought of Jane and Sam.

  32Late Regrets

  The four silenced shots only created a short hissing sound. When Scott opened his eyes he saw the three zombies that had tried to attack him lying motionless on the ground. The fourth attacker–which had gone for his ankle–was also still.

  Scott raised himself on his elbows and slowly got up. Ray and Screw were already running to him. Behind them stood Nika, holding her M40A5 at the ready. Scott once again looked at the undead creatures that almost got him. Each of them sported a precise headshot wound. When he glanced at Nika again, she had already turned around and was walking to the church with Watson.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Ray yelled when he reached Scott.

  “I... slipped,” Scott stammered.

  “I saw that. I was asking why you‘re acting like a suicidal fool!”

  “I don’t know,” Scott answered, which was the truth. After the bloodlust had faded, he simply could not find a reasonable explanation for his behavior.

  “Our plan was to go directly to the church. Instead, you decide to play the hero and attack the whole gang of these bastards!” Ray was absolutely furious. He seethed with anger.

  “It was because of Watson,” Scott reminded him, but as these words left his lips, he realized how silly they sounded.

  “Cut out the bullshit, Scott. We had the dog. You just cannot control yourself, that‘s the problem. We could‘ve easily reached the church without any further fighting,” Ray growled and shook his head. Before he could vent any further, Screw placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Scott knows he made a mistake, Ray.” Then he walked over to Scott and knelt down next to his left boot. He looked at the two men from his crouching position. “And maybe he paid a high price for it.” Scott pointed at the teeth marks in the leather of Scott’s army boots.

  Ray stared in horror. “Pull off your boot,” he said in a flat voice.

  “I‘m fine, thank you,” Scott replied. “Let‘s go to the church now.”

  “You‘re going to take off that boot right away–or we won’t go anywhere.” Ray’s voice tolerated no opposition.

  Scott knew Ray was only doing the right thing. They had to be absolutely sure that he had not been bitten, and the only way to find out was to see if the undead creature’s teeth had pierced the boot leather. Scott was afraid to find out, but there was no choice and slowly undid the laces. When he had finished, Screw pulled off the boot and looked at his ankle. Scott could not bear to watch.

  “It didn‘t get through the leather. Everything‘s okay,” Screw said happily and grinned at the two other.

  Ray breathed a sigh of relief. Although his anger had subsided a bit, he still looked at Scott reproachfully, while his friend pulled on his boot again.

  “Let’s go. Nika and Watson must be waiting already.”

  Scott was also sure that he heard the mumbled words “stupid jackass.”

  33St. Anne’s

  The church was called St. Anne’s–at least that was the name engraved on the sign at the entrance. The building was a bit off the main street of Redstone, which was about five hundred yards to the North. Dusk was falling, but they were able to see various stores and residences. They would have to check on them before continuing to Sanctuary, Ray thought, but for this evening he had other plans. Nika and Watson were already waiting in the large, dark wooden entrance in front of the otherwise all white church building. When the three men got there, a happy Watson jumped up on Ray, barked and wagged his tail like crazy. “Shhh!” Ray hissed to calm the dog. “Otherwise you’ll attract the next horde of zombies.” Watson stopped barking but gave Ray a disapproving look, as if he wanted to say a man should be glad to receive such a nice greeting from his dog.

 
; Scott approached Nika and cleared his throat.

  “Thanks,” was all he then managed to say.

  The dark-haired woman gave him only a short nod. Then she turned to Ray and pointed at the entrance of the church.

  “You want to go in first, Captain?”

  Instead of answering, Ray pulled his combat knife and stepped in front of the door. The wooden door was not locked and when he opened it, an unexpectedly loud, drawn-out creaking sound emerged and gave everyone goosebumps. They also pulled their knives, and Scott grabbed his ax with both hands.

  Ray gave him a serious look, and Scott raised a hand to calm and assure him that he understood his message. The last rays of leftover daylight shone through the church’s stained-glass windows, but with every second they lost strength against the darkness of the approaching evening. In the semi-darkness inside the church, they could only see the outlines of the central aisle with pews on both sides, and what might be a large altar in the rear part. When Ray entered, he immediately noticed a mixture of holy water and stale air, a smell he associated with unwanted Sunday visits to the church in his hometown that his parents had insisted on when he was a child.

  “Stay close together,” he whispered and kept his eyes on Scott. All of them nodded and carefully tiptoed after Ray. An icy breeze was blowing through the church.

  “There must be light switches in the sacristy,” Screw said quietly.

  “I only wonder where that could be,” Scott replied in a low voice.

  “Probably a side room behind the altar,” Ray whispered, still holding a knife in his hand. “Screw, light us the way. I am going ahead.”

  The four of them crept through the nave, and Watson did not leave Ray’s side. Second by second the last bit of daylight faded, and shortly after they had entered the house of worship, only the cone of light generated by Screw’s flashlight allowed them to find their way through the building. Even though they tried to make as little noise as possible, the echo of their steps sounded like the roll of thunder during an autumn storm to Ray. If anyone else was here in the church, he or she would know for sure there were visitors present. To add to the suspense, they also did not have the faintest idea about whom–or what–they might meet here. It had been no surprise that there were undead in Redstone, and it was unclear whether they were just roaming outside or had also entered the church. Another, also unanswered question was whether there were any survivors hiding here.

  Step by step they sneaked up toward the altar area. Screw moved his flashlight slowly from side to side. To the left were stools for the altar boys, and paintings depicting biblical scenes above that. A few yards to the right he could detect a small table with chalices, which were probably for communion. In the middle was the large altar, where an opened bible could be seen on the top of it. Ray wondered when the last time God’s blessing had been pronounced here. The circle cast by the flashlight slowly moved to the right of the altar. Ray caught his breath. Was someone standing there? He was just about to warn the others, when his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the church door abruptly slamming shut with an enormous bang. Everyone screamed and Watson started to bark furiously. Screw whirled around and shone the flashlight at the door, which was now closed. His heart was pumping so fast that it seemed to skip. When Screw turned back around and moved his flashlight from left to right, Ray was sure he saw a silhouette next to the altar. He did not seem to be the only one to notice it, because a fraction of a second later he heard something hiss through the air and strike the shape. Screw shone his light at the figure they had detected in the darkness. When Watson saw what they were facing, he totally lost control.

  “Watson, quiet!” Ray ordered, and his breathing gradually became normal again.

  “Fuck!” Nika moaned, as she recognized whose skull she had thrown her knife at. The other ones calmed down a bit, too.

  “Good throw,” said Screw and shone a light on Nika’s victim. “St. Joseph won’t pose any more danger tonight,” Ray remarked with a monotonous voice, while Watson growled at the wooden statue from whose forehead Nika’s knife protruded. Even though he still felt the fear in his bones, Scott had to smile at this remark. When Screw moved the cone of light to the right, several more life-sized statues of saints became visible. Next to the last one they saw a door in the wall. Ray took a deep breath.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  The sacristy was even more dimly lit than the nave, and one could see only a few inches ahead. Screw swept the light across the walls of the room, which was bigger than they had expected. He stopped at the opposite side.

  “That must be the fuse box,” he said and when to the white container on the wall. After he had opened it and looked at the contents for a moment, he pensively scratched his head.

  “What’s up?” Ray asked.

  “The fuses are all okay,” Screw replied. “The problem must be with the supply of electricity in general.”

  “There are candles here,” Nika called from a shelf she had felt her way forward to.

  “I didn’t know you were such a romantic,” Ray remarked.

  “If I normally use candles it has very little to do with romantic situations–at least as far as men are concerned,” Nika replied.

  Ray’s imagination went into overdrive, and he felt the other ones would be able to see his ears glow red-hot if he did not distract himself soon. Screw saved him.

  “Dear Nika, we are still in a house of worship. Could you please stop with your suggestive remarks?” he said with a friendly smile.

  “It’s okay, big boy. I just wanted to brighten the mood a bit,” Nika retorted. Then she struck a match and lit several candles of different size, which she then distributed through the sacristy. Immediately, the warm glow filled the room with flickering light, and more details became visible: On the right side, they saw an open cabinet filled with liturgical vestments. Next to it there was a large mirror. Watson growled briefly when he saw a dog that looked just like him, until he realized that he was angry at his own reflection. Close to the mirror there was a sink. Ray turned the faucet, but nothing happened.

  “The pump won’t have any electricity, either,” Screw reminded him.

  Ray continued to look around. There was a sizeable desk in the rear corner of the room. Not far from it stood a large sofa and two easy chairs, and the walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves with boards bent in the middle under the weight of all the books. To the left of the furniture there was another door which probably led outside, as Ray assumed. He took off his backpack and slowly sat down on the sofa. The others followed his example.

  “Time for dinner,” Scott said and took out sandwiches and a water bottle.

  Ray grinned. His anger at his friend had almost completely disappeared. “Scott is right. Let‘s eat something and take a short break. Meanwhile I‘m going to tell you why we landed here.”

  All of them nodded.

  “As you know, the main goal of our mission is to reach Sanctuary and to transport Dr. Abbadon’s family to him on the aircraft carrier,” Ray said, and everyone nodded in approval. “You probably also know, we are not the first ones to attempt this.” Once again the whole group nodded. “The only question is, what did the others do wrong? In order to answer this, we have to start at the very beginning. What do we know about Sanctuary so far?”

  “It is supposed to be a refugee camp,” Scott answered. “According to General Dixon it is somewhere in the White Mountain National Forest.”

  “Correct. What else?”

  “Well, the two rescue missions sent before us did not return. Since their take-off, there haven’t been any signs of life from them,” Scott replied.

  “That is also correct.”

  “The question is: why?” Nika said, more to herself than to the others. One could almost see her mind racing.

  “I have asked myself the very same question,” Ray said. “And for me, there can only be two logical explanations.”

  “The foo
d at Sanctuary is so great that they didn‘t want to return home?” Screw asked, while taking a big bite out of his sandwich.

  Ray smiled. “They actually still might be at Sanctuary. Voluntarily or against their will, who knows? However, I think that is rather improbable.”

  “Why do you think that?” Screw asked.

  “They were trained soldiers. Even in the unlikely case the first rescue troop was captured, this does not explain the disappearance of the second team. They knew their predecessors hadn‘t returned and were therefore especially warned.”

  “Who knows? Maybe Sanctuary is not such an oasis of kindness after all–and maybe they also got the second team under their control,” Screw replied.

  “That might be so. But why should a refugee camp be interested in capturing soldiers of the U.S. government–let alone kill them? Quite the opposite, each refugee camp in this country would be happy to get military support and receive official information.”

  “They wouldn’t get any direct support. After all, the soldiers were only interested in retrieving Abbadon’s family,” Nika remarked.

  “Still,” Ray insisted, “These men were trained in communication and negotiation techniques. They would‘ve convinced the leadership of Sanctuary to cooperate. I‘m pretty sure about that. However, we‘re also going to prepare for the worst.”

  “What do you consider to be the most likely explanation?” Scott wanted to know.

  Ray took a deep breath before going on. “I suspect both rescue teams never reached Sanctuary, but were killed on the way there.” Everyone fell silent while trying to digest what they had heard.

  “Maybe they deserted,” said Scott, but his words lacked conviction.