by Olah, Jeff
“SAVANNAH,” Sean shouted. “Get up the stairwell… NOW!”
She turned toward the sound of his voice coming from the corner of the basement and quickly moved back to William as he began to regain only the slightest bit of stamina. His leg on fire and only able to stand long enough to limp a few feet, Savannah helped him to the first step and moved in to the right, sliding under his arm.
The second time Sean’s voice filtered through the speakers, Savannah realized what was happening. She listened to the same instructions, only this time the voice made sense and she responded with the same intensity. “SEAN, WE NEED HELP.”
Sean knew exactly what they needed; he just hoped he could do it in time.
144
The contrast was striking. The stunning, almost breathtaking view out the driver’s side of the vehicle would have been the perfect location for a celebrity wedding or an elaborate setting for a once in a lifetime proposal. Blades of hearty grass, uncut in weeks, shifted gently in the cool breeze as Mason and his passengers prepared for battle on the opposite side of the SUV. One eye on the six Feeders slowly advancing, Randy quickly pulled four handguns from the stockpile he’d collected at Blackmore. Chambering a round into the first two, he handed one to Megan and the next to Mason.
“You comfortable with one of these?” Randy asked Megan.
“Worry about yourself,” Megan said as she opened the door, hopped out and started for the slow moving horde. As the men exited seconds later, she’d already downed the first four and was preparing to eliminate the final two. Extending her right arm and firing only her sixth shot, she was pulled from behind. The gargantuan beast had to be well over six feet tall and appeared to have been a security guard here at the Silo. His uniform, twisted and torn in the battle he evidently lost, fell from his obscenely muscled frame as he bent at the waist, attempting to pull Megan closer.
As Mason hurried toward the skirmish, he glanced to his right and noticed Randy leaning against the rear of the SUV filling his pockets. “What’s he doing…?” Megan now screamed furiously for help as she backpedaled away from the oversized Feeder who’d taken to crawling on all fours. Snapping at her feet as she continually shoved her boot into its face, it finally made contact with the black rubber sole. Three of its front teeth came loose as it chomped down on her boot, the remaining shards digging deeper into the leather as Megan fought to free herself.
“RANDY… PLEASE!” she shouted. “PLEASE!”
Mason came in from behind and ended the fight with one round to the forehead, its jaw going slack and Megan scurrying backward. He turned to his friend in disbelief and shook his head. Helping the girl to her feet, she wrapped her arms around him and thanked him more times than he cared to count.
The Feeder’s limp body now buried in the thick turf, Randy calmly walked over and joined the others. Without making eye contact with either, he reached into his pocket and handed them both two magazines. “Keep these handy, although not one more shot is fired unless it is absolutely necessary.” Laying his hand on her shoulder and finally turning his full attention to her, he continued. “You are not here alone, so don’t run off again like you are. Do you understand?”
Through clenched teeth she answered, “Yes, although it’s my father and…”
“And if it wasn’t for Mason, you’d never get to see your father, so from now on you follow my lead. Got it?”
“Yep, I got it.”
As the group reached the opening in the mountain, gunfire erupted, causing Megan to drop to the ground. Not pausing to assess the situation or turning to the others, Randy broke into a dead sprint heading into the vast tunnel, weapon at the ready. “Stay behind me and don’t fire on anything unless I tell you to.” Mason helped Megan to her feet and the pair followed Randy into the unknown.
Less than five seconds in and the familiar, if not completely vulgar, stench of rotting flesh engulfed the trio like a warm wet blanket. Bodies in random piles littered the area and became increasingly dense the farther into the void they traveled. The shallow pools of water that dotted the floor were now saturated with the draining blood from the fallen horde and covered every inch of foot space not already occupied.
Nearing the final third, his eyes fully adjusted to the new landscape and she came into view. Randy once again raised his weapon and sighted the woman standing three feet from the door he intended to get through. “SHOW ME YOUR HANDS!” he shouted.
No response.
He held his left hand behind him, asking Mason and Megan to stay put. “Give me a minute,” he said before taking another five steps forward and closing the gap between himself and the mystery woman who’d yet to acknowledge their presence. “LAST CHANCE… SHOW ME YOUR HANDS!”
Her arms remained plastered to her side, her head forward and eyes focused on the spot just in front of her.
Closer still, her place on the mountain was revealed. Her uniform told Randy she was the other half of the security team, tasked with keeping this location secure. Keeping his weapon trained as he moved to within a few feet, Randy noticed the name stitched onto her shirt, just above her right breast pocket.
“Lucinda… can you hear me?”
Again no response, although she slowly raised her head to meet his gaze. Not completely surprised, but also not threatening, her eyes held the familiar white milky haze he’d seen too many times over the last three weeks. They were similar, although not completely the same. He was sure she’d only recently been bitten from the fresh wound on her left arm and the unusually docile look on her face. Her pain was evident, just buried a few layers beneath the confusion of her last moments as a human were quickly fading. She had yet to fully turn and although the threat was looming, it wasn’t urgent. Randy slid his weapon into his waistband and motioned for the others to follow.
At the door, Megan rattled off the code into the security pad as the men stood watch, Randy with a close eye on Lucinda. As the green light blinked three times and the door began to open, Lucinda turned toward the other end of the tunnel and slowly started to put one foot in front of the other, walking away from the group. Mason instinctively raised his weapon and Randy asked him to let it play out. “She hasn’t harmed anyone and isn’t a problem for us. Let her go, I’d like to see why she didn’t attack us.”
“This is your party, but if she comes back for us…”
“If she makes one move toward us, I’ll put her down myself. You can bet on it.”
With the door open, Randy put his hand on Megan’s shoulder and asked her to step aside. He entered first and within seconds saw the familiar, if not much older version of the Eugene Lockwood he once knew. Megan rushed past Randy and moved to her father’s side as he sat against the far wall, obviously stuck in this room for days without enough food or water to sustain the ordeal.
“Hello sweetheart… you made it, I knew you would.” Turning to Randy he sighed in relief. “I’m sure glad to see you, now let’s get out of here. I’m sick to death of this place.”
Dehydrated and having trouble standing, Mason stepped forward and helped Lockwood up and out of the room as Randy grabbed the black, oversized case at his old friend’s request. Megan agreed to bring up the rear as they hurried around the lifeless corpses cluttering their exit.
As if he hadn’t noticed the man helping him along, Lockwood finally turned and said, “Who’s this?”
From behind, Megan urged them on. “Dad we don’t have time. It’s pretty bad out there. We need to get you to the…”
Out into the sunlight, the group slowed their pace. Randy set Dr. Lockwood’s case in the grass and readied his weapon. The path out of the area, the trail they had used as a detour was now blocked. Their sheer numbers were something no one in this group had yet seen. “There must be hundreds of them. Where did they come from?” Mason asked.
Randy pointed at the SUV; their window of opportunity to get back was rapidly closing. “We have to go, right now!”
“Don’t you leave tha
t case!” Lockwood said. “It’s more important than any single person.”
Reaching for the case, Randy motioned for the others to follow as the horde began narrowing the gap. As they piled into the SUV, he again asked that Mason get behind the wheel and Megan take the passenger seat. Randy shoved Lockwood in behind Mason and narrowly avoided being pulled down by two Feeders, and was the last to enter the vehicle and slam shut the door. “Get us out of here,” Randy said.
“Yeah sure, but to where? We’re not gonna make it down that trail and we’re out of options.”
Randy leaned into the front and pointed out the windshield. “Head toward the opposite end of the field, we’re gonna have to take the long way around.”
“When I said out of options, I was serious. Look what’s coming from over there.”
The only other way off the mountain, the path that led directly to the paved highway, although longer, was supposed to have been a safe bet. Today it wasn’t and with a crowd that rivaled the one closing in from behind, he was right… they were out of options
Randy closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “Mason, stop the vehicle.” Turning and grabbing one of the bags from the rear, he figured there were no less than eight weapons at his disposal. “I’ll buy you some time. Now get them back to Blackmore… and do not turn around for me. No matter what.”
145
Reaching the landing at the top of the stairs, Savannah pleaded with William to hurry. She reached for the door and dropped the tablet while trying to balance William over her right shoulder. Ascending the stairwell with a man that nearly doubled her weight had taken every last bit of strength she possessed and she still needed to get him to the doorway forty feet ahead. The longer she fought the battle to keep him upright, the less faith she had that they’d see the afternoon sun.
The loss of blood from his wounded lower leg threatened to pull him from consciousness. Struggling through the pain, William came to a stop just outside the landing and pulling back his blood saturated pant leg, immediately realized the trouble he was in. Had the round entered any further right, he’d most likely have lost his leg from the knee down. Lightheaded and nauseous, he had Savannah help him to the chair outside the office to the right of the stairwell. “Where is he? Where’d Goodwin go?”
Biting through the blinding pain, he tore away the bottom portion of his pant leg and tied it off just above the wound, nearly vomiting as he secured the final knot. A bolt of white hot searing pain shot from where the round exited his lower leg. One final glance told him the blood flow had slowed, although in the process, something much more serious revealed itself.
Near the exit wound, six inches below his knee, the damage was severe. Just short of obliterating his left tibia, bone fragments splintered out from the center. All hopes of walking out of the building without help were gone. William’s leg would require extensive surgery if he had any hopes of keeping it, and with the odds of him losing consciousness rapidly increasing, he needed Savannah. “Where’s the tablet?” he asked.
She looked back down the stairwell and with Goodwin nowhere in sight; she moved to the other side of the door and retrieved the device from under the side table. “Got it,” she said as she hurried back, trying to avoid catching a glimpse of his injury.
Handing it over to William she hadn’t noticed that behind her Marcus Goodwin had reached the stairs and began the labored climb to the top.
. . .
His body had long ago given up and he knew better than to let his mind accept the same fate. His left arm gripped tightly to the handrail and the other outstretched, gun in hand with what remained of his resolve, pointed straight ahead. Every new step was painstakingly worse than the one that preceded it and he begged for his legs to continue moving or to give out and let him fall backward to his fate. At the moment neither option appealed to him much more than the other.
Reaching the top stair before he was noticed, he steadied himself and let go another two rounds, catching both of his would be victims by surprise. Pushing Savannah aside, William took both projectiles. The first exploded into his right shoulder and tore a hole in the wall behind him, embedding itself in the drywall. The last squeeze of the trigger proved to be fatal. William lurched backward, nearly pulling him out of the seat as it caught him just below the chin, nearly ripping his throat out. His body went limp as he fell into himself, coming to rest ten feet from his attacker.
Goodwin slid to the floor and sat on the top step as Savannah, clearly in shock, got to her feet and slowly moved back to William. She didn’t acknowledge Goodwin and never looked in his direction. He raised the weapon once again and although he had sensed it was empty, he squeezed the trigger another six times. Nothing.
Savannah pleaded, “WILLIAM, PLEASE GET UP, PLEASE… GET UP!”
He was gone and even though she knew it, something inside wasn’t allowing her to move away. As the speaker came to life once again, she reached for the glorified remote control that brought her to this building.
“Savannah, get out. I need you to listen to me. Get out right now.”
She sat in silence as Marcus Goodwin began to laugh. His breathing shallow and labored as he attempted to stand, looking for the words to voice his disdain for the remaining souls breathing air in his facility. “The only reason you’re still alive is because I haven’t yet decided to let you die. You and the rest of your group…”
Sean’s voice came through the speakers again, this time at a much greater volume intentionally drowning out the madman’s diatribe. “SAVANNAH… NOW! YOU HAVE TO GO!”
William’s device in hand, Savannah stood and ignoring Sean’s urgent request, walked back to her attacker. She stopped just out of his reach and fought to summon the courage needed to take a life. “I’m sorry…” she said under her breath.
Goodwin smiled at the sight of her and pointed to the door. “You’d better go, listen to whoever that is. He’s right, you should leave this place. You should pack up your things and run as far from here as possible. Yes, this is my home and I intend on exterminating anyone who gets in my way. This is your last and only warning young lady, it’s more than I…”
“No,” was all she said. Closing the distance between the two, Savannah twisted to the right and swung hard with the tablet, making contact just above his left temple. The device now obviously damaged, however still intact, opened the side of Goodwin’s face as his head bounced backward against the handrail. Coming in with the tablet for a second strike, Savannah was a beat too slow as Goodwin got ahold of her left arm.
Dropping the tablet, she pulled back against his weakening grip and when close enough, bit down into the top of his hand, instantly breaking his grip. With what little strength remained in his beaten body, Goodwin lunged forward, this time getting a handful of her red mane. He pulled her in close and with his warm breath rising steady against her neck, he spoke directly into her ear. “I’m not going to kill you yet, although I want you to understand that I will. You and your friends, whoever is left here is going to die today. Go and tell them.”
Pushing her head away, Goodwin clamped down and ripped a handful of hair from her head. She recoiled in pain, pushing her hand into the wound, coming away blood-soaked and furious. He raised the fractured lock of hair to his nose, grinning as he inhaled the scent of his rose colored trophy.
. . .
Eleanor continued to pace the floor of the Command Center as Sean forced his way deeper into the systems that controlled Blackmore. There was something he was missing, something that could help. The only area that housed weapons, as far as he could see, was Building Six and not wanting to leave Eleanor, his hands were tied.
From her vantage, she wasn’t able to make out the images on the monitors and Sean had long since cut the audio feed. All Eleanor knew was that Marcus Goodwin had returned. That was more than enough and he knew it. “Sean, we have to do something. What is happening, how’d he get in there?’
“I’m on it; I just need
your help for a few minutes. I’m going to get Savannah.”
146
Stepping out of the SUV, he didn’t know if the sacrifice would be worth it. He wasn’t sure if Lockwood could help. All the pieces were in place; although even if he were to clear a path to the highway for his friends, would they make it to Blackmore unscathed? Would the resources that were left be enough for his plan to work or was this all just another iteration of the same pathetic situation this group seemed to play out day after day. Randy was tired. Tired of watching his friends fall victim to what this world had become. He laid the bag on the ground in front of him, withdrew two nine millimeter pistols, quickly readied each and moved toward the oncoming horde.
Laying down the first few from a safe distance didn’t prove much of a threat, although as he took the time to reload, he noticed Mason hadn’t moved the SUV one foot. Instead, his friend was knelt over the same bag he’d just dropped, obviously deciding to join the fight.
With Megan now behind the wheel, Mason dropped the black duffle over his shoulder and quickly caught up to Randy as the next wave descended. “Mason, get back in the vehicle. You have no idea how serious this is and how important that man is. Please go.”
Placing the bag at Randy’s feet and raising his shotgun, Mason moved toward the crowd and without wasting a single shot tore through the next wave before his friend had a chance to continue. “I’m not going back, I’m helping. There’s no way I’m sacrificing you or anyone. Now shut up and let’s get this done!”
Snatching the shotgun out of Mason’s grip, Randy pushed his friend to the ground and tossed the shotgun aside. “You idiot, you have no idea what you’re doing. Now get back to them and get the hell out of here! We’re not friends and we never were, so just leave.”