“Robert! Help Jackson!!” She’d screamed.
He’d jumped into action immediately, bringing the tire iron down with every bit of his weight and strength, connecting with the infected man’s head. A crunching sound came from where the metal met bone as blood splattered outwards. Amazingly, the thing didn’t pause in its attack on the man’s son. It’s arms continued to rain down on the boy, who’d already lost consciousness as he lay underneath the creature, unable to protect himself. The infected man’s fists smashed the boy’s cheekbones, knocked loose teeth, and broke the boy’s nose as the boy’s father hit the man again and again with the tire iron, trying in vain to make the thing stop.
“Robert!!!” His wife cried in vain as she watched the destruction of her son.
Willing himself to find more strength, the man swung the tire iron again, flexing every muscle in his body as he brought the piece of metal down, striking the man. Through sheer luck, the tire iron passed through a previously broken section of the man’s skull and continued downward, penetrating deep into the man’s brain, killing him instantly. The man’s massive body collapsed atop their son, pinning him to the ground.
Exhausted, he fell to the ground, dropping the tire iron next to him. His wife rushed over to their son and worked to remove the man’s body from atop the boy, pushing and pulling until the dead man flopped to the ground next to Robert.
Sobbing, the woman scooped their son into her arms, whispering his name as she held him.
“You’re okay, Jackson. You’re okay…”
Looking over, Robert saw the boy’s forearm hanging downward, bent in the middle where the bone had been broken. Blood poured from the boy’s arms, ribs, neck, and face, where the flesh had either been torn away and punctured by broken bones within. He rose from his position, took off his long sleeve button up shirt and began tearing it into strips. Moving to where the boy was, he began tying the strips of cloth around the boy’s injured areas where he could, covering his ribs and arms, before folding what was left and pressing it against the boy’s neck and face. Even as he did so, he knew it was hopeless.
A body that small simply wasn’t able to handle so much damage.
Tears began to stream down his face as he looked at his son, wishing there was a rewind button he could press so that he could go back in time and remain at his wife and son’s side. To have another chance to protect them.
A nearby animalistic scream forced him to set aside his grieving and jump into motion.
“We have to go!” Jumping up from his seated position, he tucked the tire iron in his belt, then reached for his wife’s arm, trying to help her to her feet.
“No…” Unable to stop crying, the woman squeezed her son’s limp body tightly, pressing hers against his, as if she could someone transfer her wholeness to his damaged body. “Jackson, wake up…”
“Rebecca! Come on! I’ll take him!” Using force, Robert moved in between the two and lifted the boy into his arms. Standing, he saw his wife’s near-catatonic face watching as he began to move. The woman followed him, her eyes locked on the boy as she walked.
Breaking into a run, he cut across the parking lot, glancing in the direction of the howling sounds that were closing in. Three blocks away, he saw a creature fall to the ground as it came around the corner, landing on its chest and face as it hit the ground. Looking back to make sure his wife was still following, he accelerated, breaking into an all-out run.
Halfway down the block, he saw the door to a small liquor store standing open. Without breaking stride, he cut right, crossing the sidewalk before slowing to ease his son through the doorway.
Inside the space he was taken aback by the relatively untouched condition of the store.
‘If only we had waited,’ he thought, realizing that the store had the food and water they’d been looking for when they stopped at the gas station.
“Give him to me!” Rebecca barked, reaching for their son. He passed the boy to her, carefully transferring the bloodied and broken body between them. She glared at him, her eyes filled with fury as she turned away from him, shielding the boy.
He knew it was normal for the woman to feel anger over their son’s injuries, but it still hurt for her to direct it at him.
As sorrow flowed through him, he found himself growing angry at himself as well.
‘Your job was to take care of them.’
Tears formed in his eyes as he turned away from the pair, crouching down behind the magazine rack.
‘You failed,’ he thought, leaning forward to look down the street.
Watching the five creatures move along the street, the man found himself praying to a God he wasn’t sure he believed in, asking for divine intervention, not just for the group to pass, but also for his son’s recovery.
The group stopped in front of the store, pausing, as two of them tilted their heads upward, smelling the air.
Robert looked towards the door, wondering if it would be enough to keep their scent from reaching the noses of the infected. Swallowing hard, he stared out through the window, watching as the creatures remained frozen, heads held high. The other three looked around, searching for signs of life.
Heart thundering in his chest, he realized he was not only holding his breath, but squeezing his wife’s arm hard, possibly causing her pain.
Looking back towards his wife, he realized she was staring down at their son, eyes wide in shocked sorrow, her mouth open and working to find words.
Following her gaze, he looked down at where their son’s head rested in her lap. The boy’s head lulled limply to the side, his battered and bruised mouth hanging open, revealing missing and chipped teeth.
No breath left the child’s body.
His chest had stopped moving.
He was gone.
Immunity to the virus meant little when the damage was more than a human body could withstand.
‘Jackson….’ he thought, blinking back tears.
In a sudden realization, he knew his wife would be unable to control herself. Letting go of her arm, he reached for her face, hoping to turn her towards him so he could convince her to keep it together, if only for a few moments.
His hand was within inches of her face when a loud keening sound came from somewhere deep inside her. It rose in intensity, getting louder as she began to scream.
“No...no...no…..nooooooooooo! Please, God! No!!!”
She pulled their son closer to her, burying his head in her bosom as she fell to the floor.
“I can’t...I can’t….”
The window behind them exploded inward, showering them with shards of glass as five of the infected crashed into the space.
It was over in seconds.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Evansville, Indiana
“Come on, sweetie, we can make it,” the woman said, using her strength to urge the man forward.
His gait was awkward, the result of the violent car accident which had pinned his leg between the passenger seat and the door as the car rolled onto its side and slid nearly fifty yards. The airbags had protected their heads, necks, and upper bodies, but impact with the burnt husk of an ambulance had crumpled the passenger side door inward, catching his thigh and holding it against the seat as the car flipped onto the opposite side. As they slid, the man’s weight pulled against the pinned leg, tearing muscles and ligaments as he was thrown towards her side of the car and jostled repeatedly throughout the slide.
When the car ceased its glass-breaking, metal-tearing movement along the surface of the street, she barely had time to catch her breath before she realized she had to move.
The infected were close, approaching rapidly from the end of the street, where they’d forced her to swerve wildly at their sudden appearance.
Looking at her fiance, Celia Gomez found him unconscious, likely having passed out from the pain. Blood ran down his leg, dripping from the dark surface of his dirty jeans and landing on the steering wheel and her forearm.
&n
bsp; She disregarded it.
It was nothing to be concerned about, even if he had been bitten by one of the infected.
Pushing the button to release her seatbelt, she threw it aside and worked her way upright, standing on the pavement through the gap that used to be the driver’s side window. Squeezing in between the dash and her boyfriend’s legs, she reached up and used the fabric of his pants to gently pull his leg forward, hoping she wasn’t causing him too much more pain. He groaned in response, but otherwise remained unresponsive.
When the leg came free, blood gushed from his wounds, splattering the inside of the car. Straining to move her boyfriend’s heavy frame, she braced her foot against the headrest of her seat as she pulled him forward, using all of her strength.
His body swung forward slightly, but moved no further, no matter how hard she tried.
Letting go, she dropped back down to look through the rear window of the vehicle. The mass of infected, nearly a dozen in all, had found another victim as they were making their way down the street and had fallen upon him, ripping and tearing at the man’s body as they attacked, forcing each other out of the way as they fought to get to him.
Saddened by the man’s fate but grateful for the delay, Celia looked back at her boyfriend.
His seatbelt was still buckled.
‘Idiot,’ she thought, standing back up. Reaching up again, she wedged his shoulder against hers and braced herself as she pushed the button to release his seatbelt. His weight came down on her heavily, threatening to force her to her knees, but she fought back, straining as she felt her back tighten up. She angled him through the open space where the windshield previously was, trying to gently let him slide out of the car, but when her left knee couldn’t clear the steering wheel smoothly, she lost her grip on him. His body fell clumsily to the ground, his right leg flopping around uselessly as he came to rest on the ground. Fortunately, it wasn’t a tremendous impact.
Wincing in pain from her own wounds, Celia climbed from the car and went to her boyfriend. Kneeling beside him, she lifted him into a sitting position, then threw his right arm over her shoulders.
“Come on, Ben, I can’t do this by myself,” she pleaded as she tried to stand from her position.
He groaned in response, still under the surface of consciousness.
Glancing back at the group of infected, Celia saw they were rising from the body of the man they’d slain. One of them turned and looked in her direction. It let loose a blood curdling scream of rage before it broke into a run, rushing towards them. Desperate to get her boyfriend to his feet, Celia tried something she’d only seen in movies.
She slapped him.
Ben’s eyes fluttered as blood flowed to his face. He blinked repeatedly before he turned his head towards her. His eyes were unfocused, his pupils dilated as he looked at her.
But he was awake.
“Come on, stand up, baby!” she cried, pulling him as she struggled to stand.
At her urging, he put his right foot under himself and tried to push upwards.
Celia realized what he was doing too late to stop him.
The knee buckled in response, sending intense waves of pain through him.
“Ahhhh!!!”
Celia grabbed him tighter, pulling his body closer to her as she started to force them both upward. His left leg came under him, bracing against the pavement as he struggled to rise.
Celia stepped forward, dragging her boyfriend with her. Out of instinct, he stepped forward with his left foot, following as he leaned his weight on her. He dragged his right leg as he moved with her, his body subconsciously telling him to spare it from further stress.
‘Thank God,’ Celia thought as she continued to move away from their wrecked vehicle. Looking ahead, she saw the massive domed bell tower of the Old Courthouse Building. Steps led towards the entrance of the building, and one of the doors hung open.
‘If we can just get there…’ she thought, pressing onward.
“Come on, sweetie, we can make it.”
The man stumbled next to her, almost dragging her to the ground with him. Gritting her teeth under the stress, she pleaded with him. “Ben, please, just a little farther!”
He groaned in pain, lunging forward as he dragged his useless leg behind him. He was losing blood fast, and if she didn’t get him to safety quickly so that she could apply a tourniquet, he didn’t stand much chance of surviving.
She risked a glance over her shoulder, checking to see how close the infected were.
Her heart nearly leaped through her chest when her eyes met those of an infected man barely fifteen feet behind them. The man’s face was covered in soot, but blood and spittle had washed it away in several places. Long, flowing hair whipped around as he snarled and spat at them while running with reckless abandon towards them. Faster than the rest of the pack, he was a full ten yards ahead of the others, but closing on the two of them fast.
“Shit!” She screamed, trying to increase their speed. She looked ahead, measuring the distance to the steps. They were still twenty yards away.
They wouldn’t make it.
Suddenly, she thought of the gun Ben was carrying. Looking down at his leg, she saw the gun bouncing around wildly in the cargo pocket of his pants as he shuffled forward, trying to keep up with the pace she set. She reached for it as they moved, her fingers trying to navigate through the small opening at the top of the pocket while his leg moved back and forth. The tips of her fingers touched the molded plastic and metal of the gun’s grip and she pulled it towards her as she heard the creature’s growl practically on her back.
The gun slipped from her hands and fell to the ground, bouncing away from them.
She heard the thing behind them roar even louder before a scraping sound told her it had leapt towards them, trying to tackle them to the ground. She shoved Ben to the right as she dodged to the left. The infected man flew past them, catching nothing but air before crashing to the ground and tumbling.
Celia hit the ground and rolled twice before coming to a stop on her stomach. Her eyes scanned the ground until they found the gun she’d dropped. She lunged forward as she heard the creature roar. The man rushed towards her as her hand found the pistol. Rolling over, she curled her upper body up off the ground as she aimed the gun and squeezed the trigger just as the man threw himself at her.
The gun’s safety kept the trigger in place.
Panicked, Celia threw herself to the side as the man’s body slammed into the pavement where she’d been a second before. She thumbed the safety, disengaging it, then turned back towards the man and squeezed the trigger again.
With less than three feet between them, the effects were devastating. The top half of the man’s head was disintegrated in a red explosion that knocked him onto his back.
Breathing heavily, Celia looked towards the remaining infected, who were still making their way towards them. They were barely fifteen yards from where she and Ben lay. Rolling over, she rushed to him and lifted him again, hearing him groan in pain as he struggled with consciousness. She pushed the two of them forward, reaching the steps and bypassing them for the wheelchair-accessible ramp that ran alongside them.
She was halfway up the ramp when she realized they’d be caught before they reached the top. Turning to look back as she still pushed them forward, she raised the gun and fired it at the chest of a thick-bodied Mexican woman in a red dress who was at the front of the pack. Mostly through luck, but aided by the short distance between them, the bullet landed dead center in the woman, carving a big hole between her breasts. The woman stumbled and fell forward, crashing to the ground. With the guide rails for the wheelchair ramp on either side of the rushing group of infected, they had been corralled into a near straight line, and the first two tripped and fell as they tried to rush past the woman. Their bodies became obstacles for the others, who went to the ground as well. Screams of rage sounded as the infected began lashing out at one another, taking out their frustratio
ns.
Breathless and exhausted, Celia reached the door to the Courthouse. She pulled Ben inside and pressed him against the wall while she used her leg to kick the door shut. Lowering him to the ground, she propped him against the wall, then returned to the door and locked the deadbolt. She rushed away, looking for things to place against the door. The first thing her eyes settled on was the body of the security guard, what had once been a young black man.
‘Forgive me,’ she thought before grabbing the man by his boots and dragging him in front of the door. She moved away, continuing her efforts. She added chairs, small tables and even a glass display case to provide sufficient weight against the set of double doors to make them impossible to move.
Shortly after placing the last piece of furniture in place, the door rattled in its frame from a tremendous impact. A second impact followed, then a third. The massive, solid wood doors shook, but showed no signs of weakening. Her efforts to brace the doors might not even have been necessary.
Returning to Ben’s side, she pulled off her top, uncaring of the fact that she wore only a sports bra underneath. Tearing it into strips, she set them across the man’s lap before sitting down. She lifted his injured leg and gently set it across hers, elevating it slightly. Examining the fabric of the jeans, she found multiple tears in the area surrounding his knee. Reaching down, she grabbed either side of the opening and pulled, tearing it further so that she could see his wounds.
A deep gash lined the outside of his right knee, exposing tendon and bone. Directly below his kneecap, the broken bone of his shin protruded from the skin.
No wonder he’d been so weak from the pain.
The majority of the blood was flowing from the gash, so she decided to deal with that first. Taking one strip of fabric, she folded it into a thick square, then pressed it against the wound. Holding it tightly in place, she took another strip of fabric and wrapped it around his leg and the cloth, then tied it. She shook her head, wishing she could clean the wound before wrapping it, but he’d already lost so much blood.
Surviving Rage | Book 2 Page 5
