by JT Sawyer
The other captives rushed in, baring their teeth as they sliced, hacked, bludgeoned, and shivved the small band of nine creatures. Allison drove her rebar into the eye socket of a tall beast in coveralls then immediately swung it like a baseball bat into the neck of a portly freak clad like a construction worker. It recoiled into the wall, rushing back at her. She struck it again and again in the skull until it went down and its shrill screams stopped. Blake helped Vic finish off the last creature, both men striking its head so hard that it separated from the neck and rolled into the room behind them. Vic started stomping the tangle of liberated worms with his boots, then rushed back inside to tell the others to follow them. The huddled masses of frightened souls stumbled out of the shadows and followed on Vic’s heels.
Blake grabbed his weighted shirt and trotted to the edge of the tunnel intersection, then assessed each direction. He looked back at the rag-tag crew in tow, glad that they had the stones to get up and fight alongside him. Now they were in for the run of their lives.
“From here, it’s a straight shot out of the tunnels. We run past some construction equipment and barrels then it’s about a hundred yards to the edge of the aqueduct.”
He looked everyone over, unsure if some of them could even walk fifty feet before collapsing. Normally, he’d snicker and spew out some sarcastic remark like he was talking to a newbie in his biker gang who couldn’t hack it, but he truly felt sorry for some of the older ones. They didn’t do anything to deserve this kind of ending to their lives.
“We’re battering rams from here on out—destroy anything in the way, then we’re free.” At least of this tunnel. He wasn’t sure what awaited them outside.
He clutched his shirt and turned the corner, trotting as the others flowed in behind him. Approaching a stack of cinder blocks and plumbing equipment, he stopped and traded in his shirt for a sixteen-inch steel pipe, then continued on. Ahead were two smaller tunnels coming in from either side of the main branch. Near the left passage was a row of oil barrels and empty pallets. He noticed the tunnel was dry, not showing any signs of footprints inside. To the left, the other passage was rife with fresh blood. The smell of rotting flesh was smothering. He motioned the others to stop. Blake crept forward, peering around the side of the tunnel. His heart nearly punched through his chest and he felt his stomach churning as he stared at the arranged bodies of close to sixty dead people, lying on their stomachs with their shirts removed. Each one had small incisions on either side of the spine, just above their hips. Blake heard a slurping sound, like someone was sucking the last dregs of a frothy beverage. He craned his head out further, his pulse throbbing. He saw a woman-thing leaning over the body of a recently killed man in his fifties. Blake recognized him as Robbie, an insurance agent from Anaheim. He had been dragged off by the drones a few hours ago.
He watched in horror as the creature leaned over the dead man, its mouth ajar as an immense parasite emerged, plunging its head into the nearest incision. Its body seemed to pulse with movement as it lapped up clear fluid of some kind. Blake tried to recall his anatomy, but most of his knowledge of the human body centered around breaking limbs. My God—what the hell is that thing doing? The creature was thin but extremely muscular. He could see a red-and-black outline of a butterfly tattoo on its right forearm, the image accentuated against the nearly translucent skin.
He slowly pulled back and saw Vic’s face over his shoulder. He shook his head, motioning for him not to look. The sun was almost setting and the light from the tunnel entrance was fading. Blake blinked hard and then realized it was blocked by the movement of dozens of creatures pouring into the passage. Shit, they must have realized we whacked their buddies.
He turned to move and saw the woman-thing nearly upon him. How did it move so fast? It swung its open hand towards him. Instinctively, he dropped, but the force of its blow met Vic’s head. The older man landed with a sickening thud against the wall. The creature grabbed Vic and held him in the air, then spun him around and flung him inside the blood-stained room behind it. Blake used the opportunity to drive his pipe against the beast’s left knee, causing it to buckle as the creature shrieked in pain.
“Run,” Blake yelled, motioning to the smaller tunnel opposite the group. “Allison, get them out of here.” Blake backpedaled, drawing the hobbling creature towards him. He had his back to the approaching horde and knew his end was near. Then his eyes glimmered for a brief second. As the last person crawled into the tunnel, he dove for the entrance, barely missing the clutches of the alpha. He rolled to his side and pivoted around, kicking over the oil barrel. Its viscous contents spewed along the pavement. Blake reached inside his jeans and removed the Zippo that his father had given him. He flicked it open and tossed the open flame onto the oil slick, then scurried back on his hands as the fire engulfed the tunnel, sending the shuddering creature back into the other passageway. Blake kept crabbing his way back towards the others, who were running in a low squat, as he watched the creature shriek from its burning flesh. He paused for a moment, entranced by the flames licking the walls in the distance. Looks like my old man was good for something after all.
Chapter 24
There was a slight fog creeping in from San Francisco Bay, shrouding the grounds near the Presidio as the Blackhawks circled the fifteen-hundred-acre park. The former army base still had architectural vestiges from its military past, but the historic buildings were surrounded by a golf course, miles of suburbs, and countless cafes. Interspersed between it all were hundreds of abandoned vehicles and flocks of turkey vultures picking through the remains of mangled corpses.
Reisner looked at his wristwatch. Good, it’s nearly noon—that will give us some advantage with the paras holed up to avoid the heat. He knew L.A. would be different, and he figured they would be there around dusk if there weren’t any snags with this first leg of the operation.
Ivins turned and tapped the pilot on the arm while pointing below to a white two-story building that had once served as the enlisted men’s club. It was situated just over a hundred feet from the cemetery grounds, and would serve as an ideal perch to snipe paras approaching the region from the east and south. Four of Ivins’ SEALs gathered their packs and rifles and prepared to fast-rope down below as the helicopter closed the distance. Their sole job was to keep the cemetery clear of hostiles so Reisner and his team could excavate the grave.
Once the SEALs were in position on the roof, Jackson swung the Blackhawk to the north and dropped Ivins and his three remaining SEALs a mile to the southwest, near a small subdivision. Once on foot, they headed towards an auto shop, where Ivins planned to rig several vehicles and the gas tank with explosives to create the diversion to draw the paras away from the eastern edge of the Presidio.
Before Ivins descended on the rope, he gave a thumbs-up to Selene then looked over at Reisner. “See you all back on board in an hour.”
The cabin of the helo seemed much larger, and Reisner looked around at the others as the Blackhawk approached the northwestern edge of the cemetery. Amidst the rows of white gravestones spanning a football-sized field was a small groundskeeping shed.
“Looks like we can add grave-robbing to our list of illegal activities,” said Reisner. He glanced over at Andre, who was strapped into his seat, studying the treeline in the distance.
Probably looking for fucking songbirds to add to his checklist.
As the pilot touched down on the grass, Reisner jumped out first, taking a knee and sweeping his AR along the grounds to the west. Nash and Porter fanned out to the front and rear while Connelly helped Selene drag the cumbersome duffle bag filled with Selene’s items out of the helo.
“Christ—what did you bring along, your entire wardrobe and curling irons too?” Connelly huffed out as she thumped the bag on the grass.
“Be careful with that—it’s my suit and sample collection materials,” yelled Selene.
Connelly gave her a half-hearted salute with two fingers. “Aye-aye, skipper.” The
two women resumed holding the duffle bag and stayed in a low squat as the entire team moved in unison towards the northwest corner of the cemetery.
The helicopters lifted off and arced to the north. Reisner glanced to his right, scanning the distant rooftop of the former enlisted men’s club, where he saw the four SEALs splayed out, their rifles affixed on Reisner’s location. As he trotted, he looked ahead to a small row of tarnished headstones that were overgrown with vines. Now, let’s just hope they didn’t encase those caskets in cement.
Chapter 25
Ivins and his three operators made bounding moves along the street, sprinting from car to car until they were at Louie’s Auto Shop near 20th and Lake Street, a mile from the Presidio grounds. The homes in the area were interspersed with stores and strip malls, most of which had shattered glass that glittered in the midday sun, whenever it managed to break through the fog. The smell of rotting remains were accentuated by the humid air, and he could hear flies buzzing in numbers as they passed by several porches with blood stains caked on the ground.
He looked around at the lack of police or National Guard presence, along with the surprising number of parked cars lining the streets and driveways. Whatever happened here, happened fast. The virus must have swept through overnight. He thought about his wife and daughter, and wondered if they had made it out of San Diego in time.
Rounding the corner by the front of the auto shop, he saw a large propane tank adjacent to the outside wall near a Jeep Cherokee.
“Check out the rigs nearby for keys,” he whispered to Murphy on his right. “Just in case we need to hightail it out of here in a hurry.” He slid his MK12 rifle aside and moved to the side of the propane tank while the two other SEALs took up positions on either corner of the building. Ivins removed his tan backpack and pulled out a palm-sized brick of C4, then began arranging the detonator. When he was done, he attached the explosive to the tank with duct tape.
“Contact, southwest corner, one hundred clicks,” came the voice of Murphy. “Eight paras heading this way. They don’t look too motivated though.”
Ivins squat-walked towards Murphy’s position. Ahead he could see the gangly group of drones moving down the middle of the street. The creatures appeared sluggish, their pasty eyes shifting around as if searching for guidance. Ivins looked beyond them, trying to see if there was another creature directing them, but they appeared alone. He glanced up at the faint gray sunlight trickling in through the patches of fog. “It’s not that hot, so I wonder what’s causing them to act like they’re drunk.”
“And why isn’t there an alpha nearby, giving them direction?” said Murphy, who had his rifle fixed on a large creature to the right.
“Let’s not stick around to find out.” Ivins went back to the propane tanker and set the detonator timer for three minutes, then rejoined Murphy. He tapped on his earpiece, which was linked to Reisner and his other SEALs. “Explosion in two minutes, forty-eight seconds. We are heading east from our current location.” As he turned, he saw a wave of creatures hemorrhaging out of a shopping center a quarter-mile in the opposite direction.
“We’ve got more company, boys.”
The sound of an engine revving was a relief, and Ivins saw a black Subaru screech in reverse from the bay of the garage. They hopped inside and sped up 20th Street, not seeing the bent Dead End sign on the corner. When they reached the end of the half-mile lane, which backed up to a steep embankment of trees, Ivins realized they were stuck as the mob converged on the street like a furious wave rushing for the shoreline.
Chapter 26
Reisner heard the explosion in the distance and knew the paras were alerted to fresh meat in their vicinity. He found himself disturbed by the fact that this city no longer belonged to humans, and he wondered how a place the size of San Francisco had succumbed so quickly.
He and Nash pulled out their folding shovels and commenced with digging where Selene had indicated. He kept looking at the diminutive white gravestone, its edges heavy with black-and-brown patina from sitting in the elements for nearly a century. In between shovel strokes, he tried to make out the name, but could only see the etched inscription that indicated the man was a sergeant. “To have survived World War I only to die back here from the flu—poor bastard,” he whispered.
Selene was standing in the shade, stepping into her yellow biohazard suit. “Once you reach the coffin, I’ll take over.”
Nash flung a heap of dirt to the side of the sixteen-inch pit trench they were standing in. “How is it that this guy’s lungs will still be there? Don’t the organs and muscles eventually deteriorate?”
She smiled while slipping on her black gloves. “Oh, he’ll be plenty deteriorated—mostly just parched skin adhering to bone. Amazingly, he’ll probably still have a head of hair and long fingernails, as those continue to grow slowly for years after death. I’ve seen burials in the sub-Saharan deserts that date back centuries and they look like that—it’s pretty amazing, actually.”
Nash stopped digging to take a breath and stare up at Selene. “You’re in a very morbid profession, Doctor. You know that, right?”
“Pff—like lining people up in your crosshairs and blowing shit up is any different.”
Nash shook his head, returning to his work. “Well, I can’t disagree on that one.”
Reisner stopped digging when he saw Porter drop to one knee near the edge of the grave. “Boss, we got movement to the east. About a dozen paras heading right for us.”
Reisner looked at Nash, both men increasing their digging pace. A few minutes later, Reisner heard the clank of metal on wood. He leaned over, sweeping his gloved hand along the thick lid of the coffin. He and Nash continued scraping around the edges until it was free of dirt, then they inserted the shovel ends under the lid.
“That’s good,” said Selene, quickly donning her mask and moving to the trench. “Clear out of this area, at least fifty feet away. I’ll need ten minutes.”
Porter saw a drone’s head shatter apart from a .308 round sent downrange by one of the SEALs. “You’ve probably got less than five minutes, Doc.”
Reisner pulled his team back in a wide arc spread out in the trees. He kept his eyes fixed on Selene’s location, watching her backside for any paras that could slip in from the hedgerow. He heard several more rounds slicing through the heads of the drones ambling through the cemetery grounds. Some moved with determination at times, while others acted like their attention was being pulled away to the east. Ivins was right—they’re pretty disorganized. He watched eight creatures stagger in from the treeline, fifty feet away.
“Let’s buy Selene some time,” he said as they all began shooting their suppressed rifles at the growing mass.
Chapter 27
Ivins stared ahead at the wall of trees then back at the explosion at the auto shop, the fireball killing several hundred creatures as timber and glass tore through the intersection.
The SEAL team piled out of the car and sprinted up an embankment, making their way into the forest of cypress and pine trees. “So much for a fucking vehicle escape.” He silently cursed, knowing they didn’t have the time and means for properly laying out the details for multiple evasion routes.
He heard noise to his right and saw three paras rushing in from a trail. Ivins pumped two rounds into the pale head of the first one, a fine red mist spraying onto a maple tree behind it. Then he swept a few feet to the right and shot another one in the jawline and forehead. It collapsed, then rolled down the hill, taking out the feet of the third. The dazed beast sprung up and bolted at him, but was met by a single shot in the temple from Murphy.
Ivins was again surprised at the lack of rage and drive, two things that he’d become accustomed to in battles against the paras. They seemed to lack their usual motivation, and he wondered if it was something specific to the former residents of this city.
As the forest leveled out, they ran for a quarter-mile before crossing a foot bridge over a small stream whose w
ooden sign read Lobos Creek. He tapped on his ear-mic. “We are on foot, heading northwest back towards the Presidio. Hostiles are in pursuit but they are slower moving than usual.”
Stopping at the edge of the forest and a field, Ivins scanned the route ahead. There was an old dormitory facility on the left and several administrative buildings. The rest of the area to the west was composed of grassy fields interspersed with stands of pine trees and a large playground. Ivins pointed to Baker Beach near the South Bay, a half-mile away. “There’s our primary exfil, so let’s—” He paused, his eyes narrowing as he looked at a second-story window in the dormitory.
“Anyone else see that?” he said. “The curtain moving in that upstairs dorm window, northeast corner.”
Everyone’s eyes focused on the location. A second later, a small hand reached up and pulled down the blind.
“No way that was a para,” said Murphy.
“Has to be a little kid hiding out in there,” said another voice to his right.
Ivins looked at the beach, knowing they had a clear escape route ahead of them to get to the helicopter if they left now. He was down to seven men on his team and couldn’t risk losing any more of his brothers over a hunch. What if that place is filled with dozens of survivors? We’d only be leading the creatures in there, with no way to extract that many people. Our mission is to assist Munroe and Reisner. His gut was screaming at him to investigate. He tapped on his ear-mic, alerting the Blackhawk pilot to stand by for exfil. Clutching his AR, he stood and sprinted across the field with his men, heading towards the building.
Chapter 28
The cemetery grounds rang out with the popping sound of suppressed gunfire as the SEALs on the nearby rooftop continued plinking the heads of drones meandering along the grounds. Reisner and his team filled in the gaps by sniping the occasional creature, but he continued to be surprised at how disorderly they were. One minute the drones seemed focused and forged ahead; the next they were ambling without purpose, as if temporarily blinded.
