“Rock, paper, scissors!” The two boys said in unison, and again the soldiers stared at them, confused. Miles and Antonio played the game again, reciting the words as they shook their fist. After two more times, Antonio threw his hands in the air in victory.
“I win! I get the gun and you get the knife Miles!” Antonio’s cocky smile wasn’t smoothing over the situation.
“Nuh uh! You cheated! You cheated! You a cheater!” Miles whined and shoved at his bigger brother, but Antonio barely reacted to it.
“Let’s hurry this up!” Baker called out. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’ll go out into the woods and all set off our airhorns and--”
“Nope, we can’t do it like that.” Antonio cut off the captain.
“What?” Baker’s eyebrow went up and he peered at the teen out the corner of his eye.
“We gotta get close first. They gotta all hear it.” Miles pulled an air horn from the deep pockets of his shorts. “We gotta get close so they all hear it.”
“If we too far away or not all them strikers hear the horns, some might stay and keep banging on the doors,” Antonio added.
“We gotta go and do it so they all hear it,” Miles repeated.
“Have you guys done somethin’ like this before?” Lincoln, the brawny, six-foot-four black guy with the buzz cut asked.
“We did it, yeah. We did it once before wi--” Miles stopped when Antonio gave him a stern look. He almost said how they did it once with the old man.
“And it worked?” Lincoln asked.
“Yeah it worked,” Antonio answered. “But it wasn’t this many strikers and there wasn’t a siren with them.”
“We just gotta get close enough with a horn and get them to chase us into the woods. It’ll work.” Miles added.
The Colombian, Torrez, shook his head. “Tienes que estar bromeando. You gotta be kidding me.”
The radio on Baker’s hip came alive and a soft voice came through it. “Captain Baker, are you guys ready yet? Those things are still going… madhouse. Over.” It was Julia in the monitor room.
The next voice was gruff and unapologetic. “Baker, move your ass and get to work! Clear those things out, over.” That was Carver.
“We gotta move. C’mon.” Baker took off to the side of the building, heading towards the dock.
Miles and Antonio followed, then Castle, Lincoln, Bates and Torrez in that order. Anderson took a deep breath and went after them with a cold sweat running down his back. A lurker lunged out at them and Lincoln took the butt of his gun and bludgeoned the creature. Then another came stumbling towards the group. Miles moved in when Torrez lifted his gun to fire. A quick knife to the temple put the infected person down and Miles turned to Torrez with a cold look in his eyes, shaking his head. The boy mouthed the words, “No guns.” and wiped his knife on the shirt of the dead infected. Torrez’s hard swallow and nervous nod meant he understood.
When they all reached the side of the wall, Baker knelt and peaked around the corner to assess the situation. The visual on the monitors inside didn’t do this madhouse justice. The screams coming from the siren were in surround sound, which made it feel like the creature was standing right in front of the group rather than at least a hundred yards away. Even that felt too close to this mayhem of fighting, screeching, clawing, and banging hordes.
This was the largest, the most violent, and the most horrifying mass of infected Baker had ever seen. Madhouse wasn’t even the right word for this demonstration of crazed infected. For a second, Baker locked onto a middle-aged infected man who had ran off from the pack and slipped and fell. When the ravenous creature hit the pavement, the monster howled and continued pounding its head on the ground until its brains were spilling out of its skull.
“Oh my god,” Anderson’s voice was wobbly and his eyes were the size of saucer plates, watching the horde.
The boys snapped around and shushed the frightened soldier and even pulled or pushed the men back around the corner to keep from attracting attention. Baker slid back as well, keeping the furious hive in sight.
“What are we going to do? How the fuck are we gonna get those things the fuck out of here?” Torrez was gripping his Remington shotgun so hard his brown knuckles were turning white. He even started praying in his native tongue.
“Three of you start making your way to the tree line.” Baker turned his head and pointed out to the woods, almost two hundred meters away.
“Two of y’all go to the middle of the parking lot and be ready to push your horn when we come running,” Antonio added. “Y’all can give us cover fire too.” A nice addition to the planning if Captain Baker was being honest.
“We’ll go and get they attention. Antonio, me and Baker. Baker right? Captain Baker?” Miles remembered the captain’s name from hearing it so many times, but he still wanted to be sure.
These boys knew what they were talking about. Before Baker could issue the orders, it seemed Miles and Antonio already knew how this was going to go down. Baker nodded to his men and they nodded back. Lincoln, Castle and Torrez went jogging for the tree line, moving with the plan. But Anderson and Bates lingered, both for separate reasons.
“Captain, let me stay with you guys. I can help.” Bates moved closer. “I can help you guys. Let’s just fire into that crowd and blow ‘em all to hell.”
“Ain’t enough bullets to fight all them off.” Antonio pulled his clip out and checked his ammo.
Bates side-eyed the kid and shook his head. “C’mon captain. You can’t expect these kids to be able to help you.”
“Go out in the parking lot, Bates. Put at least fifty meters between us.” Baker took the safety off his weapon and hardened his resolve. He saw Anderson literally shaking in his boots and reached out to grab the man by his shirt. “Anderson, get your ass out there and wait for us.” He shoved the man away and Anderson took off in a clumsy jog. Then Captain Baker turned to the other man, “That’s a fucking order Bates!”
Bates was taken aback for a moment but followed after Anderson, nonetheless.
“Find cover somewhere,” Miles called out to the men in a whispered yell.
“That Anderson dude is gonna get himself killed.” Antonio snorted and spat.
Baker ignored the comment. “So, how are we gonna do this?”
“We gotta take out that siren. We can’t do anything until we take out that siren.” Miles took out his phone and feigned swiping up and down as though he was looking for a song. “If we don’t it could call the hive back.”
Baker took another look around the corner. “How the hell are we gonna do that? Those freaks are all around that… siren.”
Miles leaned out to look and saw the mosh pit of leaping and rolling crowds encircling the shrieking siren; the infected screamer’s mouth was stretched cartoonishly wide as it continued howling and going red in the face. The siren’s head was high above the sickening congregation. It was an easy target for the small boy.
“I can get it.” Miles pretended to scroll through his phone again then decided on the song, O.T. Genasis Coco, and it started playing in his head.
Antonio’s eyes narrowed on Miles and he saw the seriousness on his brother’s face. “What you listenin’ to?”
“Coco.” Miles lowered himself to one knee, softly singing the words
Antonio tossed Miles the berretta and he caught it without looking. “Eight shots. Four for you and four for me.” Antonio said and his brother nodded. Then Antonio turned to the captain, “Get ready to give us some cover fire. It’s gonna move fast.”
The captain’s eyes went back and forth between the two boys and he watched Miles line up his shot. Antonio took the knife and held up one of the airhorns he had. Seconds felt like hours and sweat started to form on Baker’s forehead. He looked out and saw Lincoln and the others just now reaching the tree line. Bates and Anderson were crouched next to a Prius, both with unsure expressions.
Miles was taking long slow breaths, one after another and
held his arm out with the pistol trained on his target. Antonio’s finger hovered over the horn’s button and he licked his lips with anticipation. Captain Baker slapped himself and shook his head. When he raised his HK416, a loud bang exploded from Miles’ hand and a single shot took out the siren. Its screams were replaced by the shrill wailing of the air horn in Antonio’s hand.
***
Back in the monitor room, everyone there watched the screens on the table in front of Nadine with fevered intensity. Carver was leaning on the table, gripping the edge almost hard enough to break the wood. Julia was standing behind Nadine’s chair with a hand on the back of the seat. Ben was behind her with his arms crossed and a grievous look on his face. Chakrabarti was pacing a few feet away from them, unable to continue watching the madness on screen. The banging from the docks seemed to intensify and each new pounding blow sounded like the one that would break down the door.
The next loud bang at the shutter door made the doctor jump. “Are they there yet? Can they stop them?” Chakrabarti almost went to look at the screen but shook his head at the thought.
“Calm down Martyn!” Julia looked over her shoulder.
“I still don’t think this was a good idea,” Ben whispered, but when he caught eyes with Julia, he continued. “We shouldn’t have sent those boys out there.”
“We should’ve never let them in here in the first place,” Carver growled.
“Let’s not start that shit again.” Julia closed her eyes tightly as she squeezed the bridge of her nose.
A loud pop from outside silenced the room and the screaming monster stopped. Then a loud horn replaced the noise. On screen, the infected mass stilled and all in unison, turned towards the origin of the new blistering sound. The display was a hideous scene of half dead infected monsters all popping their heads up like meerkats. Then the mob went sprinting after the new blaring sound coming from somewhere off screen.
After a second of registering what happened, Julia snapped from her daze and shouted, “Nadine, bring up the front cameras!”
Nadine’s hands were shaking and she fumbled with the keyboard and the camera controls. Julia began to reach for the controls herself but Nadine shook her hands out and began typing faster and the display changed to the front door of the Costco superstore. Different angles of the parking lot came up next. Everyone who was gathered around the monitors saw two men hiding behind a Prius as one of them fell backwards, before climbing back to his feet to run away.
“Who is that? Anderson?” Chakrabarti had made his way over to the table to get a look.
“Damn it!” Carver said through grinding teeth.
***
The madhouse of infected strikers spread like a cloud of locusts, rolling over the brick and rock walls as they moved around the Costco exterior, spilling around the corner and to the parking lots. Antonio and Miles took off sprinting from the pressing mass, as Baker emptied his assault rifle into the crowds. Many were going down with the spray of gunfire, but dozens continued, and Baker had to turn and flee before the creatures could get closer. It was a horrid parade. A cluster of mutilated monsters marching with mauling intent. They screeched and barked, biting at the air with ragged teeth like fervent dogs.
Baker ran from a tidal wave of infected behind him, running like diseased Olympic sprinters. They were so fast in fact; the captain could feel their haggard breathing on the back of his neck as the throngs pursued him. The multitudes sounded like a stadium full of roaring sick fans, switching back and forth between extreme joy and visceral sorrow. He took a moment to look back and immediately regretted it. A short figure was right on his hip and the captain recognized the creature as a small, ravenous child. It had vacant white eyes and broken and chipped teeth. Dark blood streamed down the child’s distorted face, coming from a head wound under ratty hair.
In Baker’s hesitation, the freak lunged at him and the captain was sure he would be toppled and swarmed in seconds. But a loud bang popped the infected child in the face, and it dropped. Baker looked forward and saw Antonio backpedaling as he continued firing at the approaching crowd.
“Two, three, four!” Antonio counted off kill shots as he pulled the trigger.
“You wastin’ bullets!” Miles shouted, while running alongside his brother. He pulled an air horn from his pocket.
“Shut up!” Antonio lined up his next shot, but Miles grabbed his shoulder and turned him around.
“You already used your four bullets! You already used your four! The rest are mine! I got three more shots!” Miles raised the air horn and it screamed in his hand.
Ignoring his brother’s protest, Antonio whirled around and fired again at the quickly approaching infected horde. Baker was thankful that the kid wasn’t listening to Miles’ objections to bullet usage. Two of those shots from Antonio saved the captain and gave him time to spin and open fire into the crowd. As many of the creatures went down—bullets tore through jugulars, legs, and abdomens, and slapped into flesh with wet pops—the falling bodies caused pile-ups that provided precious time to get further away.
When the captain swung around and took off running again, he saw Anderson stumble backwards from the Prius he was cowering behind. “Bates! Anderson! Cover fire!” Baker shouted over the horn and the thunderous mob.
Bates stood up and started unloading his weapon into the packs of howling monsters. After taking out a few here and there, the soldier in the bandana started smiling and fired with more glee. “Get some! Get some!”
“To the trees!” Miles stopped his horn long enough to finish his sentence, “Go to the trees! Run to the trees!” They ran through the parking lot, putting cars and shopping carts between them and the infected.
“Get some!” Bates just continued shouting and spraying his weapon into the crowds. The mass chased after the sound of the horn, but many were starting to make their way to the Prius in the center of the parking lot, where Bates was firing. When he noticed this, the grim look on his face was enough to tell you he had had his fun. “Anderson, c’mon! We gotta go!” He turned to find his brother-in-arms but the coward was halfway across the lot at full sprint.
“Anderson!” Baker screamed, but nothing could be heard over the dual air horns that Antonio was flailing through the air in front of the captain.
“C’mon you ugly fucks! C’mon!” Antonio was shouting as he jumped over a shopping cart and Baker followed, the infected only seconds behind him.
Then gunfire again, this time from across the parking lot, coming from Anderson. Baker was at first happy to see Anderson making himself useful, but when he saw the fleeing man shooting at the slower moving infected who weren’t even part of the hive, he cursed Anderson and tried calling his name again. Anderson was firing his gun so erratically and carelessly that after a spray of bullet fire tore through a staggering half dead woman, four shots hit a parked car and set off an alarm.
WAH-WAH-WAH-WAH-WAH-WAH-WAH-WAH! The car’s alarm began blaring.
The heap of infected that had been chasing after Baker and the boys, headed for the woods, was distracted by the sound. Many of the infected, on pure instinct alone, broke off from the pack and made a b-line straight for the center of the parking lot, where Anderson was.
“Fuck!” Antonio shouted. “What the fuck!”
“They’re goin’ for the car alarm!” Baker stopped to fire into the crowd again.
“You’re out!” Miles called to the captain.
And just like the small boy said, Baker’s gun clicked, clicked, clicked, and he was out of bullets. Fear gripped the captain’s chest and he turned to run again. Even with many of the infected now going after the car alarm, there were still dozens of infected coming after Baker. He saw his men at the tree line and waved to them for backup. The two boys broke off from the captain and he cursed but kept running towards the trees.
Bates, by himself, had climbed on top of a car and was jumping from vehicle to vehicle to avoid the small group that was pursuing him. He called for h
elp but no one would be able to get to him. He instead just unloaded his weapon into the empty faces of the infected reaching up at him where he stood atop an SUV.
Miles stopped in all the chaos and hid next to a car while he took the time to read the field. Antonio came over to hide with him and Miles clapped his hands for his brother to toss him the gun. Antonio peeked over the hood of the car and watched the hive chase Baker. The woods were thirty feet ahead of the captain and the car with the alarm was at seven o’clock. The old man had taught him how to read time on his watch and it was a good way for Antonio to keep awareness of the field. There was a skeletal body propped next to the car near him and he reached over to search the backpack the corpse was wearing. Nothing of use was in the bag, except two cans of vegetables. But the bony hand of the corpse held a steel baseball bat that Antonio gladly took up while slipping on the bookbag.
“What’s the plan Miles? What we gon do?” Antonio went to crack the heads of a few stumbling lurkers who tried going after his brother.
Miles peeked out and watched the parking lot, turning in a circle as he looked. He checked his bullet count by removing the clip and looking down the barrel, even though the old man hated when he would do that. It was the only way he remembered if he had one in the chamber, and he always took his hand off the trigger and put on the safety. It was easier than popping the bullet out and then trying to put it back in the clip. Miles hated doing that because it always hurt his fingers. Still, Miles could hear the old man’s words, now coming from Antonio, telling him to stop looking down the damn barrel.
“Two bullets left.” Miles slammed the clip with one bullet back into the Berretta. His eyes zipped over the crowd running after the captain and he did a quick head count. “Fifty plus strikers.” Not an exact count but it was close enough.
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