“James, wait!” Bill yells out. “It could be a trap!”
His words fall on deaf ears. All I can think of is getting to Cindy and Cassie, and making the people who shot Lucas pay for what they’ve done.
I veer toward the sidewalk, and thread my body through the narrow gap between two trucks that are parked alongside the street. We jump up to the trash-covered walkway and keep running.
Bill continues to holler out to me as he gives pursuit, but I ignore him just the same. My mind is focused on one thing—getting to that guy at any cost.
The gear on my back bounces and shifts every which way. With every step, gravity yanks the bag down and burdens me with the additional load. Despite how tired and out of it I am, I manage to dig deep and push on.
We reach the end of the sidewalk, and slow our pace. I drift closer to the brick buildings and train the pistol at the corner. I look across the street for any movement, but detect no threats, living or dead.
Duke is poised to strike, crouched down low with his ears on end. He looks up to me, waiting for my command. I hold my palm up, which stops him cold.
We creep to the edge of the building. I can hear Bill’s feet hammer down the sidewalk after us. He yells in an angry whisper, which is faint but loud enough for me to make most of it out.
“James, you need to stop right now. We need to think this through before you get yourself, and me, killed.”
I poke my head around the edge of the building. There’s no sign of the man within the trash filled passageway. He could be hiding in any number of places, though. Dumpsters, ramshackle cars, and any of the other buildings that have a side entrance.
Bill catches up just as Duke and me skirt the building and advance into the alley. He sighs aloud, then grumbles under his breath, but he follows me just the same. He could cut his losses and bail. I’m thankful that he hasn’t. He should understand what’s at stake for me, and I believe he does. My family is all but gone, and I can’t risk losing what I have left.
Duke sniffs the ground, then pauses. He lifts his front paw off the ground as he investigates the scent he’s picked up. I follow suit, and sweep the sides of the alleyway. “You got something, boy?”
He looks straight ahead, and groans.
Bill glances to the street, then swipes the back of his hand across his brow. He flicks the sweat from the glove in a huff. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this. You don’t know these people like I do.”
I cut my gaze to him. “I’ve had more than my fair share of run-ins with people like this since things have gone to crap, and I do know what they are capable of. My friend is dead because they shot him, and my family’s life hangs in the balance. Every second we keep bickering about this, that a-hole is getting away, and I cannot let that happen. He can probably give us inside information on their numbers and such. Hell, they could be holding my family in a different place now than when you were with them last.”
Trash cans dump over, which stalls our debate. I look down the alley, and find the man pounding the pavement as he glances over his shoulder at us. A portion of his coat conceals his face, leaving only his narrow, mischievous eyes.
“Come on, boy.” Duke and I race after him. Duke pulls ahead and gallops at full speed, widening the distance between us.
A nagging pain festers in my side, and slows my stride. My face scrunches in discomfort as I wheeze and grab my ribs.
Bill gets alongside me and notices that my forearm is cradling my mid-section. “Perhaps we should pull back, and let you rest.”
“I’ll pull back once we have that dirtbag in our grasp,” I growl.
Duke maneuverers through the obstacle course of clutter that spans the alleyway with ease. He doesn’t break his stride as he closes in on our target.
The man steers toward the buildings to our left. He comes to a screeching halt in front of a dark red door. He tosses it open, then offers another devilish smirk as he slips inside.
Duke pushes harder and tries to make it inside before the door shuts. It closes just as he nears the edge. He raises up on his hind legs and scratches at the worn paint on the front. He barks and howls then looks to us.
Bill splits apart from me and charges around a blue sedan that sits parked at an angle in the alley. A large, gray dumpster rests against the wall with bags of trash piled inside and out of the container. I leap over, and dodge the waste as I shoot the gap.
Duke drops to all fours as we approach the entrance. He scoots away as I grab the handle. I pause for only a brief moment to catch my breath before slinging the door open.
Gunfire erupts. We scramble to either side of the door for cover. Four shots rattle off before it stops. Bill toes the jamb of the entrance and returns fire without looking.
His canon barks its harsh report as fire breathes from the barrel. He pulls back and we wait for a counter attack.
No return fire is given from the man. I slide down the wood grain of the door and peer inside the interior of the building.
The man is back on the run down the stretch of hallways. The soles of his shoes squeak with every step he takes.
I head in with my pistol at the ready. Duke stays close. Bill covers our rear as we make our way down the hallway.
We hit the end of the corridor that opens up into a large reception area. Bill hangs back and sweeps the space from the safety of the hallway as I take cover on the opposite side. I rap my hand on the side of my leg which brings Duke to my side.
“He’s got to be somewhere in here,” I whisper under my breath.
A large, wooden receptionists’ desk is nestled in the corner across the room. He could be hiding behind it.
I crane my neck, and lift up on my toes, trying to peer over the scarred top that encompasses the upper half of the desk. Duke pants with his tongue dangling out the side of his snout. He licks around the rim of his mouth, and groans.
Yeah. I hear you, boy.
“You got eyes on him?” I call out to Bill.
He has a better vantage point at the desk and is taller than me. Bill raises up on the front part of his feet and tilts his head back. He places two fingers in front of his eyes, then points in a particular area.
I nod and exhale a short breath through pursed lips as Bill slips out from the safety of his cover. Gunfire erupts from behind the desk. Bill covers his head and scurries back to the corner of the hallway.
Duke cowers next to my legs as I drop to the floor and drape my body over his. Round after round batters the wall above my head. I catch a glimpse of the man darting out from behind the desk and sprinting across the expanse of the space toward the staircase.
The gunfire ebbs as the man lowers his weapon and hits the bottom step. I spring up from my crouched position, and try to get a bead on him. He takes two steps at a time, flying up the flight of stairs.
I hone in on his legs and pull the trigger. The gun clicks empty. I squeeze the trigger again, but get much the same. It takes a second for me to remember that I haven’t changed out the spent magazine from when it clicked empty in the sewers.
Damn it.
I eject the spent mag and toss it. I bury my hand into the backs of my pant pockets, unsure if I have a spare ready to go. I keep my gaze fixed on the man as he sprints up the stairs, then vanishes from our sight.
“You good, James,” Bill calls out.
I nod. “Yeah. You?”
“Yeah. I’m good.” Bill’s voice is strained and thick with tension.
With joy, I pull the last remaining magazine free of my pocket. I slip it into the well and secure it in place with a rap of my palm against the base. A round is cycled. I’m good to go.
“Let’s go, boy.” Duke and me bolt from the wall and race toward the stairs. Bill gives pursuit as more gunfire spawns from down the hall behind us.
“Damn it!” He hisses as he stops and gets clear of the hallway. He scoots over and leans against the wall near the corner. “They’re flanking us.”
The spiderweb
bed glass doors to our left rattle under the infecteds’ fists. I turn toward the disturbance, and walk sideways with the pistol trained on the creatures. They smoosh their faces against the windows, and pound their fists at the door in protest as they stare at us.
“Go. I got this!” Bill yells out over the hammering of incoming gunfire from down the hallway.
He spins out from the corner and returns fire.
Duke hits the stairs and gallops up multiple steps at a time. I follow his lead, and stay fixed on his furry behind. My hand glides along the banister as we work our way up the sprawling staircase that slithers along the wall. I glance down to the main floor, and watch as Bill returns fire.
We stop shy of the first floor. I grab Duke by his collar, and hold him back from the dark hall before us. He lunges forward, but I keep him from charging off on his own.
“Hold on, boy. He could be hiding anywhere up here. Give me a second to check it out.”
Glass shatters below. The chasers charge inside the building, trampling the shards of the busted window as they howl. The sharp report of gunfire echoes through the building. Four shots pop off in rapid succession, followed by the thump of what I hope are the chasers hitting the floor.
Bill.
I step toward the railing, and move my head around to see if I can get eyes on Bill, or the chasers. From my vantage point, I can only see a sliver of the floor. A dead body is sprawled across it. It’s not Bill, that much is certain. The pants are the wrong color, and the tone of the skin is a pasty white.
“Bill!” I call out. I wait for his gruff voice to respond with a snide comment or agitated growl, but get nothing from him.
I move down a few steps to see if I can get a better look. A door slams shut from the hallway. Duke takes off in a dead sprint into the veil of darkness.
“Duke! Wait!” I growl, but he doesn’t listen.
I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. I glance to the ground floor for Bill, then to the hallway where Duke took off. I don’t hear either of them. My stomach twists in knots.
Argh.
I pound the palm of my hand against the railing in frustration.
A faint yelp escapes from the hallway and frays my nerves.
Oh no. Duke!
I race up the steps, and hit the landing of the first floor. I hug the wall, and toe the edge of the eerie corridor. My hand digs out the flashlight from my moist coat pocket. The feeling of the soggy fabric and stench radiating off me adds to the sickening feeling I’m already battling.
“Duke. Come here, boy,” I call out. “I’ve got some treats for you.” It’s a white lie at best that may draw him back to me.
I thumb the button on the flashlight repeatedly, but it refuses to turn on. Christ. Come on! I shake it hard and cuss under my breath until the beam fires from the end. It flickers and dims, then brightens to full strength.
I lean to the side, and train the light down the hallway across from me. I spot no movement within the darkness, and I don’t hear any subtle sounds that would indicate someone is down that way.
My eyes close, and I repeat to myself that everything’s going to be all right. That both Duke and Bill are ok.
I press the pistol to the middle of my forehead and exhale a deep breath. It’s go time.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Before the chaser outbreak, the thought of taking a person’s life never crossed my mind. It wasn’t until the world ended, and I was confronted with the worst humanity had to offer that I started to think otherwise. Now, it doesn’t bother me as much, if at all.
The floor creaks under my weight. I freeze and listen for a reaction from the stretch of hallway before me. A faint whistling sound grabs my ear. Could be coming from the busted windows the chasers destroyed.
I’m starting to regret my decision in pursuing this piece of crap. Bill was right. Perhaps, I should have listened to what he was saying, held back, and plotted out our next move instead of acting on impulse and charging in blindly.
It’s too late for that, though. There is no going back in time and changing anything. I can only handle what is in front of me now, and hope that both Bill and Duke are ok.
“I hope you haven’t hurt my dog, because if you have, I can promise you that you’ll regret it ten times over,” I threaten.
I glance over each side of the hallway for any hints or clues as to where the man might be with Duke. I know he did something with him.
Most of the doors are shut and locked tight. I see no light emitting from under the doors or hear any noises that let me know where they are.
I spot something to my right inside the entryway of a room a few spots up from me. The light hones in on the ghastly gray blob and reveals a dingy golden yellow coat of fur. It’s Duke!
He’s flat on his side. My heart sinks. He can’t be dead.
I rush to his aid. The boards sound off with every hard step I make. I drop to my knees outside of the room, and look him over. The pistol stays trained ahead as my free hand pushes the door open.
I shake him. “Boy, it’s James. Please be ok. You have to be all right.”
My hand sifts through his matted fur as I rub his side. He groans, and shifts his weight. He’s alive! He wags his bushy tail and lifts his head up from the floor.
I collapse on top of him, and wrap my arms around his body. I squeeze him tight as he tries to lick my face. “I’m so sorry, boy. This is all my fault.”
The wooden planks creak behind me—a subtle sound that chills my blood. The hairs stand up on the back of my neck. Whatever’s there has me dead to rights.
I turn around to engage whoever is flanking me, but something blunt smashes into the back of my skull. I’m thrown forward, and hit the jamb with my forehead. The flashlight pops free of my hand as I crumble to the floor. I roll to my back while cradling my head. Through blurry vision, I squint at the dark figure towering over me.
He shines the light on his face, and gives me a wink and a smirk before I blackout for good.
A brief recap of the events that have transpired since the virus had been released upon the world plays through my head on a loop. From the day Dad, Duke, and me went hunting to when I discovered Mom was infected and I had to put her at ease. It ends with us on the chopper, and the terrified look Cindy had as we plummeted toward the earth. She reaches out for me, begging that we survive what is about to happen. Everything goes dark, and it replays again from the beginning.
Something blunt slaps my face, and rips me from the tormenting dreams I’m caught in. The skin stings and my jaw aches from the blow.
“Hey there. Time to wake up, sunshine.” The voice sounds jovial, almost as if he’s pleased with himself. “Come on, now. Wakey, wakey, eggs and bacy.”
If I didn’t have a headache before, I do now. My head rests on the floor, the hard-wooden planks digging into my arm. It takes me a moment to realize what has happened and where I was last. That piece of crap wacked me with something that knocked me out, and now, I’m at his mercy.
I try to move my arms, but the rough rope around them refuses to budge. In a fit of panic, I tug harder. The rope bites deeper into my wrists.
My captor’s tepid breath blasts me in the face as he snickers. He grabs me by my shoulders and yanks me off the unforgiving floor. I slam against the wall with a dense thud. Pain lances up through my neck to the base of my skull.
“Hey! Leave the kid alone!” Bill barks in protest.
My eyes crack open just as the man stands up and turns away from me. He struts across the floor toward Bill who is strung up by his wrists from the ceiling. The rope is pulled taut with the tips of his boots searching for the ground.
The lantern’s flame dances against the wall. It illuminates the drab loft we’re in. Through blurred vision, I spot two other guys flanking the man who knocked me out, and Bill hanging by his wrists from the rafters, but I don’t see Duke.
The space is sparse of any furnishings. Just piles of sheetrock and clumps of the c
eiling litter the floor.
I blink a few times, trying to erase the dizziness that plagues my mind. The back of my head hurts. My hair is matted together with something that is now stiff. Is that blood?
Duke barks, then growls. I glance about the open space, and find him chained by the neck next to a beam. He’s up on all fours, pacing back and forth. He turns and races toward the man who attacked us in the hall as he walks by him. The chain snaps taut and keeps him from going any farther.
The man points to one of his cohorts, then to Duke. “Keep an eye on that dog, will ya? You know how vicious animals can get when they’re wounded or frightened.”
The portly man nods and leaves Bill’s side. He waddles toward Duke and trains his rifle at his head. His sausage size fingers wrap around the stock as he snorts and clears his throat.
“Get that gun away from my dog, now!” I snap at the unscrupulous, fat thug.
He shoulders the rifle and bears down on Duke. Duke snarls and lowers his ears. He presents his fangs and crouches low to the ground as he sets his gaze on the armed man.
Bill looks to me through his one good eye that isn’t black and blue or puffy. Blood trickles down the sides of his lip and races from his flared nostrils. His breathing is labored as he grimaces in pain.
“I see you haven’t risen above hurting kids, Shane. Not sure if that makes you a piece of trash or a piece of crap,” Bill remarks. “Guess it doesn’t matter much since they both mean the same. To me, you’re nothing more than a dead man walking.”
You’d think Bill’s harsh, but true, statement would pull a violent or aggressive response from the piece of crap that stands before him. A show of dominance that would make one cringe from the mere sight. Instead, the man chuckles as if it were a joke.
“Same old William. Mr. holier-than-thou himself. So, is this the role you’re playing? The vengeful, jaded loaner who is out to right the wrongs of the world? If it is, then that is the biggest joke of all.”
Dead State (Book 5): Evolved Page 8