by L. T. Ryan
One of the men called out. “We know you’re out here somewhere. No one would just leave a horse tied up like this.” He paused a few beats. “We just wanna help y’all.”
Emma looked toward the stairs as though she believed the men. Addison shook her head. She whispered, “We stay right here.”
No one could be trusted in this new world, especially not someone who said they just want to help.
They stood with their backs to the door, beyond the wash of dulled sunlight that shone through the opening above. The breeze made its way down on occasion. It filled the space with air that was cool, yet thick and damp. Refreshing, but not.
Several minutes passed without movement or sound from above. Emma had settled down. She slid toward the floor and rested with her knees drawn up to her chest, and her chin on her knees. Her breathing was soft and slow. Had she managed to drift off to another place?
The tension flowing through Addison spiked in her shoulders, stomach, and head. Her pulse pounded, hard enough that it caused ripples in her vision. She wanted whoever was out there to take the horse and go. But if they didn’t, the 9mm in her hand, cold against her sweaty palm, provided one last line of defense.
The small tunnel to the bunker door provided a choke point. One where she and Emma couldn’t be seen, and a spot where two men could not advance side by side.
Let them come, she thought.
Not too long ago she could have never imagined a thought like that running through her mind. Now she realized in order to survive, she had to stay prepared to fight at any time.
“Over there.”
Addison’s heart rate spiked when she heard the man. He spoke softly, to someone nearby. She brought the pistol up, held it with both hands, extended it out, aimed it into the muted light. Didn’t have to be a perfect shot. Hit them in the chest, stomach, head, whatever, it would stop them and she could finish them off while they writhed in pain on the ground.
She saw movement out of the corner of her eye and glanced over. Emma had risen, sliding up, her back to the door. She pushed her hips forward and retrieved the smaller Glock 19. Damp streaks where tears had slid down her cheeks remained, but that was all. Her face steeled. In the shadows, standing there with the pistol aimed out like Addy, Emma looked a lot like her father.
“You comfortable shooting that at whoever comes down here?” Addison asked.
The girl nodded without saying anything.
“Even if you have to shoot before a word is said between us?”
“I won’t let them hurt you, Addy. Just like I know you won’t let them hurt me.”
“We’re a team.”
“A team,” Emma echoed as she took two small steps and stopped even with Addison.
A shadow shot across the floor in front of them. A moment later, it returned, the length of it stretching from top to bottom. Then it shrunk, as though the guy had lowered into a squat. No doubt to see as far as he could into the tunnel.
“Think they’re down there?” a guy said.
The stubby shadow wobbled side to side. “Don’t see no tracks leading here or away. Nothing fresh, that is. Grass is matted down going yonder, but that looks old.”
“We should check it out anyway. Might be something worth taking down there.”
“Yeah, might be.” The guy rose as evidenced by his elongated shadow. Then he yelled out, “Stay with the horse.”
There were three, at least. Addison figured they were local, judging by the thick low-country accent. The first of them started his descent into what would become his grave if he acted the least bit aggressive toward them.
Next to her, Emma’s breath tightened and quickened.
Addison leaned over so their arms touched. It was as much as she could do. No way could she risk giving them away by speaking.
The man’s feet and the tip of his barrel appeared first.
Addison closed her eyes, drew in a breath, and opened back up to the world.
His belt came into view. He was almost at the spot where he’d be able to see them, too.
She counted down in her head.
Three.
Two.
One.
The guy had spotted them. He ducked down, knees bending forward, while he drew up his rifle. He intended to shoot first, ask questions later. These weren’t good men. Not by any stretch. They came and killed and took what they wanted. Didn’t even leave their victims a chance to make it.
Addison hip-checked Emma and the girl fell to the side, into the shadows, out of the man’s aim. If he was going to get a shot off, she’d absorb it.
But Addy had no intention of letting that happen. Before the guy even leveled his rifle, she squeezed the trigger. Three rounds exploded from the six-inch barrel. The muzzle blast exploded time and again in her field of vision. The gunshots roared throughout the small cavern. Each landed in a spot that left the man little chance of surviving.
He managed to get off a shot, but it went wide and slammed into the wall next to the door. He dropped his rifle, fell back, slid down to the ground, where the sunlight over his body only lingered for a moment.
The next man was on his way. He yelled something unintelligible, presumably to the third guy who had been instructed to stay with the horse.
“Emma,” Addison yelled. She hadn’t needed to be so loud, but the loud hum in her ears made it feel necessary. “Are you ready?”
The girl was on her feet and moved into position next to Addison. She squeezed off her first shot the moment the guy’s hiking boots appeared. Hell of a shot, too. Nailed the guy right in the shin. He howled something fierce as he drew his leg up. His revolver hit the ground with a thud and skated down the makeshift stairs.
Emma didn’t relent. She fired again, hitting his other leg at the knee.
The man collapsed and rolled down to the ground. He came to rest on top of his partner in crime.
Emma drew her aim once more. Addison reached out and pushed the girl’s arm down.
“I’ll do it,” Addison said. “You shouldn’t have to.”
Emma dropped back into the shadows, beyond the glare of the man who writhed in pain on the corpse of another.
“Anything to say?” Addy said to the guy.
He grimaced hard, then bared his teeth to her. It was obvious the guy relished in the fact oral care wasn’t required during the apocalypse.
“Last chance,” she said. “Tell me who you are, how you found us.”
The guy spat at her, but he lacked the ability to make it count. A little spittle managed to travel a couple of feet and fell in between them. The rest landed on his chin and dripped off the side.
Addison stood five feet away. Wasn’t much chance she’d screw up the shot. “If you weren’t blocking our way out of here, I’d leave you alive down here to suffer until one of those things sniffed you out and finished the job.”
“Screw you, bitch.”
That was all she needed to hear. She fired one shot, hitting him in the forehead.
One man left, unless he’d fled. She wouldn’t blame the guy. He had no idea what lay in wait underground. A damn army could be down there.
Addison started up the stairs and looked back. Emma hadn’t joined her. She stood a few feet away from the two dead men.
“Come on, Em,” Addy said.
“I…” It was all she could say. Was she going into shock over having shot someone?
“It’s not your fault. Now come on. We gotta see what’s going on up there.”
Emma did not move.
Addy hurried back down. She bent over the men and hooked her hands underneath the top guy. A few shoves later and she managed to roll him off the first. Then she reached out for Emma’s hand. The girl remained in place. Was she going catatonic? God, please let the horse still be there, Addy thought.
“Look girl, I can’t move the bottom guy. You’re gonna have to skirt around him.” Addison’s head was moving left to right, looking at Emma, and checking the opening ab
ove. She listened for the girl to respond and tried to hone in on someone approaching. She reached down and scooped up the rifle. Might come in handy in a few seconds.
Emma had moved a few feet but stopped again. Her stare was fixed on the first man.
“Come on, get up here behind me,” Addy said, louder than she had wanted. But it had the desired effect. Emma shook her head, shifted her stare to Addy, and tiptoed around the guy.
Addison ascended the stairs. The clouds above had parted in the middle. The sun shone down bright. Felt like knives poking through her eyes as she adjusted. She caught a glimpse of the sky. Clouds the color of pewter raced past and that hole closed up about as fast as it had opened.
She thrust the barrel of that rifle into the open air first. A chill started at the nape of her neck and wormed its way down her spine. She hadn’t shot that rifle. Didn’t even know if the cartridge poking out in front of the trigger had a round in it. The Glock, well, she knew that would do the trick in any situation now.
The guy crossing the field toward her came into focus. She drew aim on him, putting her trust in that rifle. She blinked him into focus. He was young. Bearded. Dark-haired. She’d seen him earlier that day. She’d stolen his horse.
“Put that damn thing down,” he yelled.
She didn’t. But she did notice that he was walking with his gun aimed toward the ground. Addy pulled her cheek away from the stock. Behind the guy, lying next to the horse, was another man, older, fatter, heavier-bearded. Reminded her of the two dead men in the hole.
The guy stopped a few feet away. He stared down at her. “You okay?”
She nodded and released her right hand from the rifle. It wasn’t a gesture of good will. She grabbed her pistol and brought it up.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said. “Wasn’t going to earlier, either.”
“Who…who are you?” Addy asked.
“Jake,” he said. “Jake Burge. Not that last names mean shit anymore.”
“You with these guys?”
“Hell no.” He turned his head and spat with the wind. It traveled a good ten feet before hitting the ground. “I escaped from them. They were tracking me, I guess. Barely managed to get out of sight when they arrived in that glen where you stole her from me. You made enough damn noise they picked up your track.”
She lowered the 9mm and emerged from the hole, extending a hand. He grabbed it and helped her out, then dropped to his knees and reached in for Emma.
“What’s your name, sweetie?”
“Emma.”
“I’m Jake. Good to meet you.”
Emma latched onto his hand and scrambled out of the hole and backed away. She threw a cautious glance to Addison, who nodded at the girl in an attempt to ease her mind.
“You could’ve escaped,” Addy said. “They thought you took off on the horse, you could have went in any direction.”
“And miss the chance to pay one of those bastards back?” He shook his head. “Plus, those are bad men—” He paused a beat, “—didn’t catch your name?”
“Addison. You can call me Addy.”
He craned his head to get a view below. “Guess I misjudged you two, though. Looks like you can handle yourselves just fine.”
“It’s only ‘cause they were stupid enough to come down there. If they’d have reached us out in the open, we’d have been caught.”
“Where’re you two headed?” he asked.
“To her grandparents’—”
Addison placed a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “West.”
He scratched at his chin and nodded. “Well, I don’t really have anywhere to go anymore. I can tag along. An extra set of eyes ain’t a bad thing out here.”
Addy leaned in and whispered in Emma’s ear, asking if she felt okay about the guy. Emma nodded, her eyes never leaving his.
“Okay,” Addison said. “There’s a horse farm near here. Might have a few left. If we can get there without me shooting you, we’ll stick together for a while.”
Fourteen
Two men forced Sean to take a dozen or so steps. They stopped outside the room Leo had entered and forced him to face the door. Was he to go in next? Sean tried to follow where the woman had gone, but one of the guys grabbed him by the chin and forced him to stare at the door.
Leo’s yells turned into shrieks, the kind that make your blood cold and your toes curl under your feet. The only word that could be made out was no, and he said it over and over again as the insane cries faded and his voice sounded like water gurgling after it hung suspended in the sink drain.
“Your friend,” the guy to Sean’s right said, “was not cut out for this place.”
Sean ignored him, said nothing.
They yanked on his elbows, pulling his arms wide, and forced him to turn. He caught sight of the woman again. She had walked to the other end of the hallway, where the lights shone a little duller and the dirty floor met a windowless wall.
She fingered through the keyring and stopped on her choice. The key slipped into the lock and turned without resistance. The door opened up. White light flooded the corridor floor. It seemed brighter than before. Maybe that was due to the lack of overhead lighting at this end.
Sean looked up and saw it wasn’t a lack of light fixtures as much as the lights here were burnt out. Maybe there was a shortage and replacing the ones up here wasn’t deemed necessary.
The woman peered cautiously into the room between stealing glances at her next victim. She regarded Sean without much thought. Her thin lips remained thin, never turning up into a smile, or folding down in a frown. Her eyes had that disinterested look, the one he’d seen upon countless women in the months after losing his leg. Their gazes would wash over him as though he wasn’t there. But they had life in them. This woman had lost all hope of humanity ever returning. He imagined her job would do that to anyone.
The men forced him into position in front of the room, giving him a view of what Leo had seen a few minutes earlier. In each of the far corners were afflicted, one per side. They had ropes tied around their waists. The ropes then threaded along the ceiling, through loops, attached to a pulley. The pulley worked off the door. When it opened, the rope tightened, and the dead were pulled back to their corner, unable to move freely. So when the door was shut again after Sean had been forced in, the dead would be able to move around the room.
The room was an odd shape, Sean noticed. Sort of like a pentagon. The rear wall was pushed back, and at the furthest point, a corner table had been placed. Something sat on top of it.
The woman approached him. She leaned in close. He smelled her, the natural her. There were no fruits or botanicals or Moroccan oil here. Musk and sweat and five days without a shower emanated off her. Had he come across someone like that before all this happened, he’d have turned his nose and moved away. But now, it just was. He found nothing wrong with it. In fact, he thought she was attractive in a way.
She brought her mouth close to his ears and whispered, “All you have to do is retrieve the knife off the table and kill them without getting bit. If they kill you, obviously it’s over. But if they bite you and you still manage to dispose of them, well, you’ll be hanging out in one of these rooms for a long time to come. If that doesn’t work for you, you might just want to drop to your knees and say a prayer to your creator the moment the door slams shut. Sounds like that’s what your friend did.”
Sean caught her eye as she backed a few inches away. “He wasn’t my friend.”
She smiled. Sean no longer found her attractive. “I don’t care.”
He let his gaze move past her, into the room, toward the afflicted. One of them looked like a lost soul waiting for that moment when it would finally be put to rest. But the other, that damned bastard stared at him with those glowing green eyes. Its mouth hung open. Thick strands of mucus and saliva poured over its lips and hung from its chin. It dropped its head back and screeched violently.
“Showtime,” one of the men behind Sea
n said as he planted his hand in the middle of Sean’s back and drove him forward.
Sean’s gaze swept across the expanding room as he was thrust toward the doorway. The first step caused his makeshift prosthetic to snag on the floor. He reached out and grabbed the doorway to steady himself. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the rifle butt careening toward his fingers. He yanked them away with a second to spare. The buttstock smashed against the frame, denting it. Could have easily snapped his fingers in half, leaving him at a further disadvantage.
“Get in there before I kick your ass in,” the guy said. He let go of Sean’s shirt. The boot to his back would come in a moment if Sean didn’t move.
So he cleared the threshold and stopped there. The door moaned on rusted hinges. Sounded like some of the wails he’d heard escape the afflicted’s tormented mouths.
When the door crashed shut, the ropes cutting across the ceiling went slack and drooped like the letter U. Could he use that to his advantage? The ceilings were tall in the corridor. A bit lower in here, but still too high to reach. But he could still reach the dangling ropes.
Sean darted to his left and hooked his wrist around the rope and pulled down, tightening the slack that allowed the afflicted on the left side of the room to approach. The dead was snapped back to the wall. It smacked against it with a thud. Its head fell forward, chin to chest. Behind was a mat of thick, dark blood and strands of hair stuck to the wall.
He remained in place, pressure on the rope, keeping the afflicted trapped, while the other staggered across the room. Its eyes glowed with a faint trace of yellow. Its mouth hung open. A serpentine-like tongue flicked out and to the side, then coiled back into its mouth-hole.
“Come on, you bitch.”
The dead continued toward him. Sean waited for it to close the remaining distance with blinding fury.
But it didn’t.
The afflicted continued to stagger, almost stumbling over its pigeon-toed feet. They were so distorted that Sean wondered if someone had broken the human’s ankles before he turned.