The Rising

by Eli Constant

  “Mother fucker.” Don slammed his hand into the wall behind him, surprising us all. “Willy and I had a bet set on the fight and that bastard had all the money.”

  Hunter turned on him, a violent storm contained beneath skin, caged by ribs and muscle. “The man is dead, Don. I’ve let you have your way with these fucking fights, but I will shoot everything in here if I find out you’re as bloodthirsty as the monsters. We can’t afford to fall that far from our humanity.”

  I wanted to point out that just allowing the fights had already separated Fort Del Rio from humanness, but I didn’t.

  Don clamped his mouth shut, his expression looking like he had something smartass to say, but, intelligently, he kept his lips sealed. Look at us, both smart people, keeping our thoughts to ourselves.

  Hunter turned to Jacob who was hesitating near the exit, watching us with wary eyes. “Jacob, after you’ve passed the word to Martha, get your ass to the wall. Morgan will be fine, but I know you’re going to want to be there.”

  “You want me to go and make sure Georgie and the boys are properly handled?” Don took a step forward as if to join Jacob.

  “No,” Hunter said the one word with a finality like concrete nearly hardened over a grave. Don shrugged, as if staying in the dark ‘storage’ building was better anyways. Jacob was still not moving. “Now go, Jacob.”

  Jacob left with a quick, jerky nod, emotions playing across his face like a television screen set to world news, images speaking of tragedies across the globe.

  “You guys don’t have some sort of monster alarm system?” I sounded as surprised as I felt. With a fort this large, a warning system would have been my first priority.

  “We try to keep things as quiet as we can, AJ. Sounding some sort of fog horn like a dinner bell wouldn’t be very smart.” Hunter turned away from me to look at Don once more. He opened his mouth to speak, but Don had regained his voice and it was full of snark and sass.

  “Friday night got pretty rowdy.” Don’s creepy smile was back despite the fact that the fort was about to get hit by a pack of monsters.

  “Don, sometimes you really rub me wrong, boy.” Hunter’s frown was deep, his wrinkles hard lines across his face. He turned from the irritating man who’d sat back down at the table and was shuffling a deck of cards. He didn’t look like a guy who was about to have his home attacked. “You stay here. I’m not feeling too fondly towards you at the moment. You get in the middle of the mix outside, and I might just accidently shoot you.”

  “Love you too, asshole,” Don quipped in return, splitting the cards in half. Hunter didn’t say anything back. He did, however, glance at his granddaughter’s body, which was now slumped against the hard floor, her fingernails cutting lines into her arm as if she was punishing herself for some unknown monster crime.

  This adult zombie…thing…it was all together too human to me in that instant. As if…as if the person she once was, was somehow trapped within all the decay and rot. I’d heard from a few people along the road since our flight from the border that some of the once-an-adult creatures seemed to do things that didn’t make sense, things that weren’t self-preserving or monstrous at all. I hadn’t seen it until now. I hadn’t believed it. The ones I’d encountered so far had been empty-headed drones, content to follow their smaller counterparts around and provide a pound of flesh when necessary.

  Hunter’s granddaughter, his Dana, looked like any other grieving teenager in this moment. Slumped into herself, cutting away the pain. I could kill monsters when they were vicious, mindless things. But could I kill monsters that could think and…feel?

  I didn’t like the question of morality punching its way through my brain.

  As the door was closing behind us, our bodies bathed in bright sunlight, Don’s voice filtered out to us through the deep interior shadows. “You know I’m the best at handling bodies, Hunter. Got a real knack for making sure they’re dead.” His words were sinister, full of unsaid things. Hunter didn’t respond. Maybe, he was questioning the humanity of the ‘storage’ room the same way I was.

  ***

  We were on the wall now. I’d wanted to go to the RV, to check on Sherry, Juan and Marty, but Hunter said he needed me. He needed my aim, my expertise. I served my companions better by protecting the fort. I knew he was right.

  Hunter was yelling into a different radio now, given to him by the nervous-looking Ned. A man with ginger hair and large, thick glasses that spoke of near-blindness. Another man, someone Hunter called Sloane, was standing broad-shouldered and determined, his sunglasses blocking his eyes from the Texas sun and his dark skin shining like polished obsidian. He was night to Ned’s sunburned day. Polar opposites of courage versus cowardice. People like Ned weren’t made to survive situations like this.

  “Get every able gun to the front gate and all the ammo. Secure everyone else in the kitchen. YOU KNOW THE DRILL, DAMMIT!” He didn’t bother to say ‘over’ and the people he was yelling at didn’t bother responding. They just did as they were told like good little worker bees.

  But it was still chaos, despite having a leader, despite everyone following orders.

  The wall had added a human layer of defenders by the time an orange Jeep came into view going as fast as its four wheels and horsepower would allow. At first, I saw no danger behind the vehicle. I had my monocular though, shoved into the front pocket of my pants. I pulled it out, held it to my eye, and found the face of the driver. It wasn’t what I was expecting. It wasn’t a woman that looked like a ‘Morgan’.

  It was a blood-coated child, no older than seven or eight at time of death, driving like Cruella Deville towards the fort.

  ***

  HUNTER

  (Hunter Jorgenson, Texas Ranger Ret.)

  A grim smile warped my mouth as I reached out and took my M-16 carbine from my second in command. Sloane Dawson was a born and bred Texan and had been Del Rio’s Sherriff for almost ten years. Now he was the head of security for the Fort. He was a younger man, mid-forties, but I trusted him. I didn’t normally trust people whose resume wasn’t four pages long and experienced to the gills. Hell, even then, I didn’t trust most people.

  I’d felt confident the front gate was safe, that none of the bastards would dare to breach this side. And, up until now, I’d been right. The monsters had picked at our defenses that had fewer men, less firepower. The back gate had been hit over and over again. We’d made it stronger, we’d built it up further, put more guns at that point.

  But here was this rouge monster driving Morgan’s Jeep, leading a pack of the rabid dogs our way.

  And it was a pack. At least fifteen kids and forty-plus adults. I hadn’t seen this many in one place since the day the outbreak had started. I thought they’d left, thought they’d moved onto a place that was still thriving with life, still relatively defenseless. I’d thought Fort Del Rio was safe. And I wanted to know what the hell had changed. Why, all of a sudden, were they hitting in force rather than a few at a time to test us? And where was Morgan? Where was she? Was she gone…dead? Jacob was going to be torn up over losing her. He’d commit suicide-by-war rather than live without her.

  And I wouldn’t blame him. I couldn’t stand the thought of living without Martha. I’d already lost my daughter and son-in-law. I felt lucky that I’d been able to trap Dana before she’d disappeared into the horde.

  Seeing my daughter get pounced on by that monster—seeing her throat ripped out like it was so much soft, undercooked steak—that had been the worst moment of my entire damn life. And I’d seen shit that would make a normal person’s skin crawl.

  Behind me, a bestial cry came to life, carried across the wind to slap against my back and soak through my pores to poison my blood.

  It was Dana. My Dana.

  I’d know in my damn gut that it was stupid to keep her caged, to keep any of the loved ones imprisoned like a cure was only days away. This epidemic was only a week and a half old. Maybe two weeks…God, I wasn’t even sure w
hat day it was now. It was all blurred into a painting of staying the fuck alive. The first two or three days had been a constant symphony of screams, shots fired, and death throes. The next few days had been a flurry of activity to make the golf course safe. And then, day after day, I was up after four hours of sleep seeing what else could be done.

  Folks who’d stumbled past our fort, who’d sought refuge, had been disbelieving of all we’d accomplished in so short a damn time. But I’d talked over this plan more than once with Sloane and others. It could have been devastating earthquakes, enemy forces from overseas, or anything else, and we’d have followed the same protocol to create a livable society.

  That’s what having a game plan means.

  Over my dead bodies would we lose our safe haven now.

  “Hunter, what do we do?” Sloane was speaking to me and I only half heard him, my mind was lost. That didn’t happen to me often. I didn’t lose focus, I didn’t jump from goddamn shadows. I was an old hand at managing the unexpected, at making it through shit so thick normal people would go blind from it. “Hunter!” Sloane raised his voice, nearly yelling, to get my attention.

  “Yeah, Sloane. I’m here.” I balanced the gun in my hands, feeling the butt of it brush the handle of my retirement revolver. “This is a big show, a show to keep us interested. At least, that’s what my gut is telling me. I want you to take two convoys, four men to each vehicle, and check the other points. I didn’t have time to tell you, but the bastards killed Georgie, Shane, and Willy. Stuffed their bodies into one of the cars. Wouldn’t have made it out, wouldn’t have killed the fuckers if Willy hadn’t been just alive enough to warn us it was a trap.”

  Sloane’s eyelids parted, just the tiniest bit. Someone who wasn’t looking right at him would have missed the minute movement. “A trap?”

  “A damn trap, Sloane.” I looked out at the terrain in front of the fort, at the orange Jeep that was so close yet still too far away to shoot with accuracy. “I sent Jacob to warn Martha and send a group of men out to protect that part of the wall. They should be out there by now. I’d feel a hell of a lot better if I knew you were checking our rear.”

  Sloane nodded, looking at the defenses set up around us. Firing teams of nine people- most armed with twins of the M-16 rifle I held and the rest holding an assortment of personal guns- stood facing the oncoming bogeys. One of the teams had placed themselves far down the line towards the eighteenth green to cover a perimeter gap. The cars had been set several feet apart instead of jammed together. A flaw in the design, something the group had done while I’d been checking other parts of the fencing. It was supposed to have been filled by now, stuffed with whatever we could find to give the wire ‘fence’ stretching between stacks of vehicles more ‘oomph’. “Why didn’t the damn gap in the fencing get filled?” I pointed. “That was supposed to be done first thing today.”

  “I know, Hunter.” Sloane didn’t offer further explanation.

  “We make it through this, then that has to be the first damn thing addressed.”

  Sloane’s grim face agreed. “Yeah, I know. Sure you guys will be okay here? This is the biggest group we’ve faced.”

  “We can handle it,” I said, looking over at the dark-haired border agent who was staring again through her monocular, her mouth a hard line. “Now, go make sure we’re not going to get raped up the rear.”

  Sloane turned and mounted the ladder to make his way down to the ground. He called out the names of eight people as he went and those men also worked their way down to the ground from the wall. I didn’t like the absence of them, as if those eight men were the difference between success and failure in this fight. It made several of the firing teams groups of seven and eight, instead of nine.

  The Jeep was nearer now, close enough that I could see the size of the driver without using my binoculars. “Get ready, people. This ain’t going to be pretty.” I pulled the M-16 into firing position, cracking my neck and loosening my shoulders so the kickback wouldn’t be too jarring.

  “Hunter, we need to take out the kids first. I’ve seen that help in the past.” AJ lifted her own weapon, having traded the shotgun for one of the M-16s leaning on the wall. They were there, ready to go so I wouldn’t need to take the time to reload.

  I peered at her, weighing her advice. We tended to just shoot what we could, take them down as fast as possible. If we could quicken this fight by taking out the kids first, then this may be an easier thing to survive. “Everyone else will shoot whatever the hell they can, but you and me- we concentrate on the kids.”

  AJ nodded in agreement.

  The wailing coming from the storage room was so loud now, Dana’s voice only part of the crowd. It hit me that it wasn’t random crying. That’s why AJ had asked if they’d done it before. There was a pattern to it, if I only looked hard enough.

  They came to life, their voices howling, every time we were attacked. “We need to shut them up,” I breathed, my heart beginning to race. It was a weary gallop, a warhorse on the edge of losing his endurance. I’d never felt that way before. I’d never felt like I couldn’t push myself to do whatever the situation called for. It was the first time I’d ever felt my age, felt the aches and pains of my job taking over my ability.

  It was like every old battle scar, every old bullet wound, was springing back to life, pumping blood out of my body and eating away at my resolve. And I couldn’t let that happen. I was a Ranger for God’s sake.

  I held the radio up to my mouth, depressed the call button. “HEN HOUSE, this is HOTEL. Over.” The handheld crackled and spat until Don’s voice came through.

  “Copy, HOTEL, this is HEN HOUSE.”

  I took a deep breath, regretting the words I was about to say before I even gave them live. “Shut them up, Don. Just shut them up.”

  There was a hesitation. I didn’t say ‘over’. I didn’t make it an actual order. In fact, my voice didn’t sound authoritative at all. It sounded tired.

  “Repeat, HOTEL. Over.” Don’s voice held a note of hesitation, as if he couldn’t believe what I’d just said.

  I barked my words into the radio, growled them in such a fashion that he couldn’t misunderstand, couldn’t argue. “Shut them the fuck up, Don. Kill them. But a goddamn bullet through their heads. I’ll deal with the fallout when people find out. Over.” I clipped the handheld to my belt, my hand shaking like a newbie after first shooting a gun.

  Before Don could respond, the sound of a gun firing brought me back to the wall. The Jeep was yards away, barreling towards the bus I stood atop. It wasn’t slowing. It wasn’t going to stop.

  The vehicle slammed into the bus so hard that it began to tip, knocking everyone but AJ and myself off. The people on other portions of the wall fired, guns popping off like popcorn in a microwave.

  The radio once again came to life, this time Martha’s voice. “Hunter, Jesus, Hunter! Are you all okay? That sounded like a crash!”

  I couldn’t respond to her, there wasn’t time. I hoped the Guardian Angels—an all-woman fire team I’d put together—was doing their job, protecting the untrained and elderly in the club house.

  I scrambled, AJ followed. We both held the M-16s against our bodies, barrels pointed towards the edge of the bus’s roof that was now tilted, angled towards the sky. We reached the edge, our hands not holding our weapons gripping the lip of the roof overhang that kept the rain from pouring into the bus windows when they were open. We moved in unison, as if AJ could feel what my body was doing. Soon, we were both straddling the titled bus, finding stability in that position.

  AJ gave me a thumbs-up, letting me know that she was fine. I reciprocated. She might look at me differently now that she’d been to the Hen House, but we’d make good partners. If only she was planning to stick around.

  The scene below us was typical of a bus-car collision. The Z kid that had been driving hadn’t been buckled in, so his body was splattered across the Jeep’s hood. Flesh splayed out around him like tuna tartare
and cocktail sauce. “One down,” AJ muttered and one look at her told me that she was already looking for a target. I liked that precision. I liked that focus.

  I glanced swiftly behind me and saw that those that had fallen off had moved the ladder and were making their ways back up to perch on other, stable parts of the wall barricade.

  The terrain was still crawling with adult ZULUs and monster kids. I followed AJ’s lead, balancing myself on the bus, which was stable with the Jeep jammed beneath it, and I shot at a once-a-girl wearing a pale pink dress with blood-stained ruffles crowning the hem and sleeves. The bullet caught her in the upper thigh as she jumped onto the back of an adult next to her. Her beast eyes found mine and hatred pure as sea salt burned through the reawakened wounds across my body.

  The diminutive creature wearing the dress that was all-too-soft and lovely for what she was pulled at the Z-adult’s hair, guiding the large ex-man to walk towards the wall. She crouched down behind him, a monkey on his back, using him as a shield to approach the fort.

  AJ fired her M-16, shooting at a once-a-boy in khaki overalls.

  He too jumped out of the way and alighted on the back of a grown female monster.

  Too smart. They were too smart.

  They’d planned this. All of this.

  I worried about Sloane; I worried for the men I’d sent to the southwest defense point. I worried that maybe this time, all my training and planning wouldn’t be enough.

  The clank of metal on metal called my attention to the side of me, where four men had hauled the two M-60s we possessed up onto the wall. It was awkward, the way they had to position themselves to stay atop the width of the car and balance the heavy pigs. We’d salvaged them from the military base roadblocks after they’d fallen to the monsters. Two of the men carried 5 1000-round belts of 7.62 ammo. A formidable force multiplier. Any ZULUs that came at us headlong and in range, would be holey as swiss cheese before they could hit the wall.