by Maxey, Phil
Suddenly a thundering came through the walls and dust fell from the ceiling. Ahead of them, the fury of noise increased.
“The emplacements nearby are opening up again!” shouted Conrad struggling to be heard.
A thought came to Sofia. How will they avoid being shot at by the guns on the wall? But she trusted Conrad had already thought of that.
The easterly landscape outside the camp was now clearly visible through the iron bars of the gate they were approaching, and was covered in bodies of E.L.F’s, some still quivering.
The space of around twenty feet of beige orange dirt from the gate to where the green shrubs and trees started, was dowsed in dark red blood stains.
“There’s so many…” said Claudia.
“Good, lets see if we can add to that,” said Conrad. He peered through the gaps between the bars. “Don’t see any monsters here. I’m opening the gate.”
No going back now, thought Sofia.
The padlock was opened and the chain fell to the ground. Sofia’s eyes remained fixed on the line of green, beyond the stacks of carcasses that were already starting to rot in the noonday sun, as Conrad pushed the gate outwards. It squeaked making them all tense.
Conrad stepped outside onto the sandy surface, then the others followed. Sofia could now see the full extent of the battle, and her mouth fell open then quickly closed as a stench hit her. Hundreds of bodies of creatures, things she couldn’t imagine existed and many her mind had trouble understanding, lay out for miles in both directions outside the wall.
As she absorbed the scene a rumbling came from a few hundred yards away, and a group of trees shook. Instinctively they all raised their rifles.
“Here we—”
Sofia noticed the shadow on the ground around them before anyone else, but she couldn’t react in time to save Conrad. Something sharp and solid flung her through the air. She hit the outside of the wall, and dropped to the ground before she even realized there had been an E.L.F above them, probably attached to the concrete wall all the time they stood there.
Her vision was partially blurred but she heard the gunfire, and the squeals from a thing. She blinked to refocus and turned back to what looked like a giant bat, but all it was were dark brown wings, five or eight, or ten. Wings which ripped and coiled and slashed. Another gun blast rang out but she wasn’t sure who it was that was still standing amongst the flurry of claw and fang.
She staggered to her feet and went to raise her own weapon to help them, when the ground shook. She looked back to the tree line.
“Rhino…”
But as soon as the word had left her lips she realized this was no African animal, for it had multiple legs, which pulled it along more akin to how a spider would move. Its hide though was gray and rough, and covered in bony protrusions.
As if waking from a dream, she turned and started firing, reloaded and fired again. Eight shells slammed into the thing and it fell back, revealing Vince on the ground. She ran forward, almost losing her balance as the ground shuddered, moving past what remained of his parents, and grabbed hold of their son’s arm. She had no idea if he was still alive, but he was whole, which was more than could be said for the others, and pulled with all her might his body back to the opening.
The stampeding thing, with legs and horns was now roaring. She felt as she could feel its hot breath as she staggered forward, and then fell into the tunnel, desperately grabbing at the gate and pulling it closed behind her.
The Rhino-spider smashed into the wall around the tunnel entrance, immediately ripping the gate from its hinges and causing it to fly into the tunnel a few yards, narrowly missing them. She looked back at its legs, each the thickness of a tree trunk, stamp around. Then there was another roar and a squeal. The two E.L.F’s appeared to be fighting. It was the distraction she needed. She propped Vince up, placing her arm under his. He groaned and started to pull away from her.
“They’re gone! Dead! We have to go!” she cried out.
His head fell, but his legs still worked and they walked as fast as they could towards the other end of the tunnel and salvation.
CHAPTER SIX
Grant sat in one of the former classrooms in the main university building. It was a floor down from where all the decisions were made, and it had served as his and Masons own base of operations for the past month.
He glanced across the walls full of charts, detailing the different parts of the camp where food and water could be had, and where the military had their own stations, then looked at Ben.
Since they had returned with the patients, which were whisked off to a wing of the building that had been converted into a medical center, his son had been quiet, preferring to concentrate on drawing the next adventure of ‘Captain Cascade.’ He thought about talking to him, but what would he say? He knew Ben had seen what happened to Dillon, and there was no way to sugarcoat it, it just pained Grant that his son was seeing this new world before he was old enough to fully understand it.
Conversation between himself and the three others had been muted as well. Dillon left behind a wife, which none of them had informed yet.
Carrie sat on the edge of a nearby desk, her legs dangling. “It was his own fault. Dumb smuck never listened.”
She was right. Dillon never did, but Grant had come to enjoy the tall guy’s sense of mid-west humor. While Carrie was dry with her comments, not meaning to make everyone laugh, but having that effect anyway, Dillon played the clown, something that on a number of occasions helped pull the team through. Now would have been one of those occasions.
“I’ll go and let Jackie know,” said Ethan.
Grant shook his head. “It should be me.” He got to his feet when the door opened and Mason, followed by four others came into the room, their clothes bloodied and ripped.
Mason sat heavily on one of the two only comfortable chairs they had, red faded leather with high backs and arms.
“How is it out there?” said Grant to the other security head.
A thickset woman with gray white hair answered for him. “Hell. Never seen so many in the camp. We managed to bring a bus full of children in from the further parts of the zone, but the army has its hands full on most streets.” She looked around those in the room. “Where’s Dillon?”
Grant and Mason exchanged a glance.
“Jillian, go with Dawson. See if you can find all of us some food.”
She looked at the other team’s faces, then nodded and with a younger man, left the room.
“I’ll eat when I return,” said Grant. He looked at Ethan.
“I’ll look after him.”
Grant nodded and left.
*****
Sofia approached the small shack, hoping either there was someone home, or the front door was not locked. She fell forward taking Vince with her. He groaned on falling on the solid but loose dirt ground. She walked up two wooden steps and banged on the flimsy looking door.
“Hello! I need help!” she said to her own reflection in one of the four dusty glass panels.
No response came.
She tried the handle and to her surprise it opened, the door swinging inwards.
“Hello?” she said again but with less force.
The room in front of her was fairly homey, taking up the entire length of the shack, with rugs on the floor, some bookshelves, an armchair in front of a television from another era, and at the opposite end, a kitchen with basin, with what looked like a fridge and an oven of some kind.
She turned, ran down the steps, picked up Vince and dragged him inside, then closed the door.
“My… leg,” said Vince grimacing.
She put her arms under his and pulled him onto the rug in front of what she now saw was a wood burner for a fire. Not that it was needed as it was almost as warm inside as out.
“I think it’s broken. I think we need to make a splint or something,” she said.
What she really wanted was water. She moved into the kitchen and turne
d the stiff faucet. The pipes that ran to it vibrated, then a dribble of brown liquid fell from the tap. She turned and started opening any cupboards she could find. The last one gave her what she wanted. Not water, but it was going to have to do. Two bottles of beer.
She grabbed them and plucked an opener that was hanging from a hook, and pulled the caps from both.
Looking over her shoulder she was glad to see Vince had pushed himself up against the single chair. The cuts on his face had stopped bleeding and his eyes had more life.
“I found some beers.” She kneeled next to him. “Can you hold a bottle?”
She lifted his hand making him wince, and he took a good grip of the beer and started drinking.
She stepped back until she hit the wall, almost knocking a picture frame to the floor and sipped some of her own beverage. It was warm and mostly flat but the golden liquid soothed her for the few seconds she held it to her lips.
The sobs from the young man pulled her back to her situation.
“They died. That thing fucking killed them!” He took another gulp of the beer, pulling it away too quickly and splashing it over his T-shirt and jacket. “I knew we shouldn’t have gone out there. I wanted to say something, but…” He shook his head, placing the palm of his free hand over his face.
She kneeled and took the bottle from him before it dropped to the floor, placing it upright on a nearby shelf.
She searched for the right thing to say, but words escaped her. “They…” She shook her head discarding any false sentiment. “Look, you’re alive.”
“Yeah, but for how long. Those monsters, they will find a way into the camp then we’re all dead.” He looked around for the bottle.
She went to reach for it when a realization hit her so hard she almost fell back against the wall.
The gate is not locked.
She took the beer in an almost dreamlike state and handed it to him.
The tunnel was small. Those monsters that attacked them would never fit through it, but other things…
“What?” said Vince looking up to her.
“Nothing.” She walked to the door and looked back through the small windows. Outside was a overgrown garden, bordered by a small stone wall, and beyond that a road and sandy fields with the occasional tree. The wall was not visible, as it was on the other side of a hill they had climbed to make it to the shack. When they emerged from the tunnel, she instinctively went for the car, but on approaching it, realized she had no way to gain entry. Conrad had the keys. Thirty minutes later they came over the crest of the hill and found where they were now.
“Yeah, that don’t look good,” said Vince.
She turned and looked down upon a largely unbloodied knee and calf, but both were more blue than they were red. They were also swelling.
She looked around the room, but no obvious shaped piece of wood to use for a splint jumped out at her. She moved to a small cupboard, emptied all the keepsakes and small glass bottles to the floor, then turned it over. The back had three planks that were perfect, being just over two feet long.
She had no idea if placing them around his leg was what was required, but she remembered seeing just such a feat in a number of films, and the filmmakers had to keep putting it in scenes for a reason.
She placed the cupboard doors down on the floor and brought her boot down on the edges, again and again, smashing it apart. The planks fell to the floor.
“Why don’t you just go on and find some people, then come back. I’m sure we passed some houses on the way up here in the car. Anyway, I’m kinda drunk…”
She smiled. “One bottle? What a lightweight.”
“Hey! I’m not allowed to drink… My…” his face tightened, but he resisted crying. “I’m just not used to it.”
She pulled her knife out from its sheath on her hip, then ripped the drapes down that hung across the door and set about slicing them into strips.
“Just leave me here,” he said.
She placed the planks on either side of his leg. “I need to cut more of your pants away. Okay?”
He nodded and she tore the pants leg off just above his knee and brought the wooden boards close to his leg. Holding them with one hand, she took hold of a strip of dark blue fabric with her other.
“I have to push it under your leg. It’s going to hurt. You ready?”
He nodded again, but he wasn’t and he yelled out. By time she was finished three strips of the material was under his leg and the boards. She then pulled the ends up and tied them loosely, then without any further warning tightened them.
He shouted again. “Fuck!” He looked at her angrily then smiled, his head falling back against the chair.
“That should help. Keep your leg straight.”
She took another sip of her beer, stood and looked outside. It was still bright, but the sun was on its downward slide. She figured it was late afternoon, so they had another three to four hours before evening.
Should be enough time to find an occupied house.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Grant left the apartment block and walked out onto the sidewalk where his pickup was parked. He took in a lungful of the summer air, then immediately regretted it when he smelled the smoke it was tinged with.
Jackie had initially taken the news well all things considered. She told him that she always knew that she might get a visit, seeing what Dillon was doing, but she hoped they would have longer together. At no point during the twenty minute time he spent with her did he see a tear in her eye. And he was amazed at her resoluteness, but then as he walked away from the apartment door, down the hallway to the stairwell, wailing started up behind him. It was a sound he recognised from his time on duty. Some people broke right away on hearing their world just ended, for others they needed to be alone.
He walked to his pickup but paused before opening the door, clicking on his radio. “Ethan, you there? Over.”
There was a moment of static then Ethan’s voice came from the speaker. “I’m here Grant. Over.”
“Ben okay?”
“He’s fine. We just had some chicken and now he’s telling me about Captain Cascade. Over.”
Grant smiled and pulled his pickup’s door open. “Good. I’m on my way back now.”
He turned the key in the ignition, then changed the channel on his radio. “Rose? Over.”
A flurry of noise came from his radio’s speaker, with other voices until her’s became clear.
“I’m here. How are you?”
“I’m fine. How are things at the medical centre? Over.”
More unknown voices could be heard before Rose’s. “They are coming in constantly. Injuries from E.L.F’s, but we are just about holding our own. I won’t make it back to the apartment tonight. Over.”
“I’ll swing by with some food, sometime...” A noise of what sounded like furniture crashing to the ground came from the single story home across the street.
“You there Grant? Over.”
“Yes, sorry. I’ll come by with food in an hour. Over.”
“I could certainly do with some! See you… Oh, how’s Ben? Over.”
Grant’s eyes remained fixed on the white-painted home. “He’s doing okay. I’ll see you later. Over.”
There was no more response from the radio and no more noise from across the street, but his cop brain was tingling. He pushed the door open again, grabbed the shotgun from the side of the seat and made his way across the road.
The similar homes to either side of the one he was interested in, were equally devoid of any sign of life, but all their windows were boarded so it was impossible to see inside from a distance.
He walked through the long grass of the lawn, and peeked through a tiny gap in the wooden boards that were nailed across the glass panes.
Everything seemed as it should be. A front room with sofas, chairs, a flat screen TV and shelves with pictures. The room was empty of people though.
He skirted the front arriving at an alc
ove which hosted the entrance, and pressed a small button which he presumed was a buzzer. There was no reaction from the device on the door or from inside.
The sound of glass smashing made him step back and raise the double barrels of his gun at the same time.
This time he banged on the wooden door, which rattled. “Hello? Is there anyone home?” He shouted.
Silence returned to the house and the street around him.
Something was off, he could feel it.
He stepped around to the right, opening a gate and walked down a small alley to a backyard, which was just as neat as the rest of the property. One thing did stand out though. A small wooden cross, in the center of the yard. He went to approach it, when there was crashing of something inside the home.
He was fed up waiting. He moved to a door and on finding the handle wouldn’t work, gave it a hefty kick with his boot. The wood splintered, but held, so he tried again. This time the door flew backwards revealing a kitchen table. He stepped inside, straining his ears for any new sounds, but there were none other than his boots on the tiled floor.
The table had mugs, bowls and an open box of cereal. The bowl had what he first thought was soup, but on further inspection was putrid milk.
He swung his head and gun slowly around to his right, to a hallway and the rest of the kitchen. A cupboard door above a worktop was open. Inside were silver tins with no labels. He went to move towards the hallway, when he stopped. There was something wrong with the shadow in the back of the cupboard, it was…
He raised the gun and fired just as a black mass leaped at his head. He fell backwards onto the table as the thing squealed, and scuttled across the floor into the hallway. Grant pushed himself off the table and surged after the thing, but there was no sign of it.
His heart beat in his ears. He went to take a step forward, but then made sure to reexamine every area of darkness ahead, which due to the boards on the outside, were many.
