by Lukens, Mark
Watching the rippers out the window reminded Luke of being at the safe house with Wilma for a few days before they headed south on the dirt bikes to the Ohio River. He had spent hours staring out the window of the safe house, watching the small band of rippers that remained among the houses that lined the small street off of that rural county road. The rippers knew he and Wilma were inside the safe house. They knew Wilma’s brother and the other two had left the house on their dirt bikes. But instead of leaving to search for more food, the rippers had stayed around the safe house, watching and waiting for an opportunity to get to them.
During those few days of watching the rippers Luke had discovered a few things about them. He discovered that they were least active just before dawn and about an hour or two after dawn. But not totally inactive—there were always some rippers roaming around at all times of the day or night. He also realized that there seemed to be some kind of organization among their group, like a pack of wolves led by an alpha. It also seemed like the rippers communicated in their own way through grunts, screeches, and hand gestures. And the cold didn’t seem to bother them as much as it should. Luke knew he hadn’t been imagining those things. The man Josh had stayed with in the attic—Isaac—he had figured out the same things.
The memories of the safe house led to memories of Wilma, and he didn’t want to think about her, but at the same time he did. He wished he could see her in his dreams again, but other than the night in the cell where she had come to him, he hadn’t seen her. He’d wanted to ask Emma about it, but he was afraid she wouldn’t have any answers for him.
“What are they doing?” Josh asked.
“They’re around the Jeep.”
“How many?” Ray whispered.
“Three.”
“There are more than that out there,” Josh said.
“Yeah, but I only see three right now. They’re looking in the Jeep. One of them is touching the hood. Feeling the heat.”
“They know we were just in that Jeep,” Josh said.
“Are they coming this way?” Ray asked.
“Not yet. One of them is inside the Jeep. Looking through it.”
“What are we going to do?” Mike asked.
“We’ll just hang tight,” Ray answered. “Be as quiet as we can. There’s a back door if we need it. But only if we really need to run.”
Luke could imagine all of them rushing out the back door to the fence at the back of the car lot, trying to climb over it in the darkness, trying to get into the woods beyond the fence as a horde of rippers came like a rushing tide from the ocean. Luke would shoot as many rippers as he could, but he couldn’t see them surviving the attack.
The ripper at the front of the Jeep seemed to come out of his daze, suddenly energized like the heat from the Jeep had thawed him out from the cold. He looked around, his eyes clear now. He looked at the line of used cars and trucks for sale. He looked at the two vehicles blocking the entrance into the car lot, then right at the trailer, seemingly right at the window Luke was in front of, like he was locking eyes with him.
The other two rippers stopped searching through the Jeep, almost like the other ripper had commanded them to. Maybe he’d made a subtle noise to them that Luke hadn’t heard from inside the trailer.
“They’re coming this way,” Luke said.
“Shit,” Josh breathed out. Luke heard him getting his shotgun ready.
Mike breathed in sharply, but he didn’t say anything.
One of the rippers with a metal pipe smashed out the window of the car closest to him.
“What the hell?” Josh said.
“They’re smashing out windows in a few of the cars. But they’re still coming this way.”
“They’re going to get in here easily,” Ray said. “All the noise they’re making, it’s going to draw the other rippers from the woods.”
Luke nodded—that was true.
“I think we should just let them in,” Ray said.
This time Luke turned around and looked at Ray; he could barely make him and the others out in the darkness of the trailer.
“We unlock the door,” Ray explained. “We open it. Let it slowly swing open. Then you wait,” he told Luke. “You hide back here against the wall. We wait until all three are inside, and then I turn on the flashlight and you shoot them. Your gun won’t make a loud sound. Maybe it won’t draw other rippers.”
Luke didn’t say anything. He looked back out the window. The three rippers were halfway to the trailer now, not running . . . taking their time, almost like they knew their prey was trapped inside the trailer. Ray’s plan sounded okay to him; he couldn’t think of anything else to do.
“Come on,” Ray told Mike and Emma. “Let’s get you two in the hallway.”
“I’ll take them,” Josh said.
Luke hurried to the door of the trailer, moving silently through the darkness. But why be quiet now? The rippers knew they were in here. Maybe they’d been in the woods and had seen them run to the trailer, or maybe (and this might be worse) the leader of the three rippers had figured out from the heat of the Jeep’s engine that they were around the car lot somewhere and ha deduced that the trailer was the most likely place to hide.
The three rippers weren’t calling out to the other rippers nearby, the ones making the calls from the woods, the woman belting out her high-pitched scream every so often. Maybe they wanted to be sure before they called the rest of them, but Luke thought the more likely answer was that the three of them were saving the prey for themselves—they were starving and keeping the meat from the others.
Luke unlocked the door and twisted the doorknob to open it. He would have to hurry back to the other side of the room, back to where the desk would block their view of him. He’d have to wait until all three came in or they would call the other rippers as they ran back to the woods.
He had no way of knowing where the rippers were, if they had already started running and were right on the other side of the door. He didn’t know where Ray and Josh were posted, if they were backing him up with their own guns.
The rippers were coming fast now; he could hear them. They were running. But they weren’t screaming; they were silent, not calling the others just yet.
Luke darted back to the wall and crouched down, leaning over the desk to support his arms as he aimed his gun at the doorway.
The door of the trailer slowly swung open, revealing a lighter patch of darkness compared to the inside of the trailer. And then, framed in the doorway, was one of the rippers.
Even if Luke hadn’t seen the ripper, he would know it was a ripper by the stench, a combination of rotting meat and filth drifting inside . . . the smell of death.
But only one of the rippers was coming in through the door, and he was cautious, not rushing in blindly like rippers usually would.
Come on. Come on inside. I need all three of you in here.
The ripper stood silhouetted in the open doorway for a moment, a thin body that was all ropy muscle and bone. Tattered, soiled clothing and long hair fluttered in the cold wind. He wore shoes. He held a metal pipe gripped in one hand. He sniffed at the air, hesitating in the doorway, a low growling noise coming from his throat. He reminded Luke of a cat cautiously entering a room, checking out the surroundings carefully before committing himself.
They’re changing, getting smarter. Adapting. Evolving.
Luke didn’t move a muscle as he aimed his gun at the ripper. He hoped he looked like part of the furniture, but if the ripper waited long enough for his eyes to adjust to the interior of the trailer he would spot him behind the desk. Luke was going to have to make a decision to shoot.
“Hey,” Ray whispered from the other side of the room, near the hallway. “Hey, stinky.”
The ripper turned to Ray, searching the darkness for the source of the voice.
“Come on, stinky. Over here.”
The ripper took a step toward Ray, raising his pipe up a little, the growl louder in his throat.
“That’s it,” Ray cooed, still whispering. “You can do it. Keep coming.”
Luke heard the shudder in Ray’s voice, and he was sure the ripper could hear the fear in Ray’s voice too. Maybe Ray wanted his voice to tremble, or maybe he was just scared shitless.
The ripper took another step deeper into the trailer, another step closer to Ray. He was near the window where Luke had peeked through the blinds only seconds ago.
The next ripper climbed the steps and entered the trailer. This one also had a metal bar, but now that he was closer Luke saw that it was some kind of crow bar. This ripper was just as skeletal as the first one, with similar ripped clothing and scraggly hair that was shorter and matted with dirt.
Where was the third one? Luke couldn’t see him outside beyond the second ripper. Why were they entering the trailer so cautiously? Why one at a time? Was the third one going around to the back of the trailer, waiting by the back door while the first two flushed the prey out? Were they that smart now, or had they just instinctually learned these tactics? Or were there some reasoning capabilities still left over from their former selves, their human brains?
They were still human—somewhere deep down underneath these monstrous faces, they were still human.
“Keep coming, stinky,” Ray whispered.
Luke didn’t know where Ray was whispering from. He hoped Ray wasn’t going to panic and shoot at the two rippers; he also hoped Josh wouldn’t shoot. Yeah, Ray and Josh might kill the rippers in the trailer, but the gunshots would echo for miles, bringing the other rippers from the woods.
“Come on, motherfucker,” Ray said, his voice lower, angrier, but the fear was still there.
Luke kept his gun aimed at the first ripper, but his eyes darted back to the second ripper, and then to the doorway, searching the night beyond the door for the third ripper.
The two rippers moved closer, both growling. The stench inside the trailer was nearly unbearable, almost making Luke’s eyes water.
The rippers were getting closer to where Ray was, both still moving slowly, both still tense, but both ready to explode with movement at any moment.
“Luke,” Ray hissed. “Now.”
“Not yet.”
Luke watched the doorway, his eyes darting back and forth. The snow blew in through the doorway, big wet flakes melting immediately when they hit the threshold.
Where was he? Luke couldn’t let the third ripper get away, couldn’t let him alert the rest of the horde.
“Now,” Ray yelled. A flashlight beam lit up the inside of the trailer.
Luke had been watching the doorway, waiting to catch a glimpse of the third ripper, the leader of this trio, his arms tense, his muscles twitchy, ready to shoot. But it was too late for that. Maybe Ray had panicked and turned on his flashlight, spotlighting the rippers. The light had taken the two rippers by surprise, freezing them for half a second. Luke pulled the trigger twice.
Spit. Spit.
The two head shots dropped the rippers to the trailer floor with a loud crash. Was the crashing sound loud enough to carry all the way to the woods?
He didn’t have time to think about that. He was around the desk in a flash and to the doorway, looking for the third ripper. An explosion of dread blossomed in his stomach as soon as he ran through the doorway.
I screwed up.
He felt the pain in his leg as soon as his foot hit the top step. He should have known where the third ripper was just from the smell. He should have known what the ripper had been planning. He should have guessed that the ripper would be crouched down by the steps waiting for one of them to flee, waiting to stab and slice with his knife.
CHAPTER 43
Josh
Luke was down, stabbed by the third ripper.
Was Luke dead? Dying? Where had he been stabbed?
Luke had cried out, a startlingly loud sound. Would his yell, perhaps a foreign sound to the rippers, bring them now? Would they immediately know the cry of anguish and surprise from possible prey?
Everything had happened so fast. Josh had waited behind Ray at the beginning of the hallway with his shotgun in his hands. Mike and Emma were farther down the hall. Ray had coaxed two of the rippers inside the trailer while Luke waited for the third one to enter. But the third one hadn’t entered; he had waited outside the door for one of them to escape. Almost like they were purposely splitting up and dividing their forces.
They’re getting smarter. Isaac’s voice echoed in Josh’s mind, the voice of a ghost who had figured out that whatever this plague was, it had fundamentally changed most human brains, shutting off parts of their brains that made them human, but perhaps also strengthening parts of the brain that made us all animals. And Isaac had thought the rippers were evolving, adapting, still basically animals, but smart and instinctual animals. These weren’t brainless zombies rushing in now; they were more intelligent, more organized, even though their desperation for food could impair their decisions.
Ray had had no choice but to shine the flashlight on the two rippers in the trailer—they’d gotten too close. Luke had killed the two rippers in less than two seconds, then he had bolted out the trailer door where the third one was waiting for him.
Josh ran to the trailer door. He knew he shouldn’t use his shotgun unless he absolutely needed to, and he figured this was definitely one of those situations.
Luke was sprawled down on the wet ground, snow swirling in the air. The ripper that had stabbed him had backed away, but he was rushing at Luke again, screeching now, his knife up and ready to stab down at Luke.
Luke had lost his gun in the fall down the steps to the ground. Maybe he’d dropped it so he could break his fall, or maybe the ripper had knocked it away. Josh couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t think about that right now, his mind went blank as he aimed his shotgun at the attacking ripper, the world seeming to slow down. Josh’s body seemed to move on its own at lightning speed, his movements a stark contrast to the slowed world. It seemed like he could see better now out here in the dark after being in the trailer for the last five minutes; the ripper seemed so defined in the moonlight, the blade of his knife a silver streak in the air.
Josh pulled the trigger, absorbing the recoil from the shotgun. The blast knocked the ripper back, part of his head and shoulder erased in a spray of blood that looked black in the moonlight. The sound of the shotgun was deafening, the echo of it rolling down through the trees and hills like a crack of thunder.
“That’s gonna bring them,” Luke yelled from the ground.
“That ripper’s screams were going to bring them, anyway,” he argued back.
Ray was out the door, crouching down beside Luke, helping him up into a sitting position.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” Josh said. “For, you know, saving your life. Again.”
Mike was at the door behind Josh. Emma was with him.
“We gotta go,” Luke said. “This trailer isn’t going to keep those rippers out.”
Josh could hear the rippers coming now. It sounded like a stampede from the woods, the woman’s high-pitched scream urging them on, a scream that seemed to last forever.
“Mike,” Ray said. “Remember where all the keys are in that metal box on the wall? Grab a bunch of those keys.”
Josh knew what Ray was thinking: they had to take one of those vehicles in the car lot and get out of here. It was their only chance. While Mike went for the keys, Josh helped Emma down the slick trailer steps.
Ray had Luke up to his feet. “Can you walk?”
“I’m going to sure as hell try.”
“The packs,” Emma said, turning in Josh’s arms. “We need them. We’ve got some medical supplies in one of them. We’ll need those to help Luke.”
“Okay. You go with Ray and Luke. I’ll be right back.”
Josh ran back inside the trailer while Mike darted back out with a handful of keys. The packs were in the hallway, all of them lumped together. He picked up the M-16 and slung the
strap over his shoulder and then grabbed the ammo box and tucked it under his arm. He grabbed the other three packs, barely able to hold them all along with his shotgun, but he managed.
When he got out of the trailer, Ray already had Luke, Emma, and Mike by the line of cars facing the street. Luke limped along, leaving behind dark wet spots on the snowy pavement from the wound in his leg; he was bleeding pretty good, but not as bad as it could have been. Maybe his injury was similar to Josh’s when the old woman had sliced his forearm open.
The rippers were coming, the trees and brush rattling with their movements. They were only minutes away now, maybe even seconds from exploding out of the trees across the street. How many? Dozens? Hundreds?
Josh handed one of the packs to Mike so he’d be able to use his shotgun if he had to drop the other packs. Luke had his pistol in his hand, and even with an injured leg he would probably be able to take quite a few of them out. But Josh didn’t really want to test that theory.
Ray pushed the buttons on the key fobs, the lights of cars and trucks lighting up, some of them making little beeping sounds, doors unlocking.
“That one,” Luke said, nodding at a van two cars away.
Ray rushed to the back of the van and lifted the hatch. Interior lights came on, blazing in the darkness.
“We need to make sure it’s going to start,” Ray said, opening the driver’s door and sitting down inside, stabbing the key into the ignition.
Josh didn’t wait; he threw his two packs, ammo box, and the M-16 into the back. If this truck wasn’t going to start, they might not have enough time to find the next one before the rippers got there.
This was it, their only chance.
Mike followed Josh’s actions and threw his pack into the back with the others.
The van started, the engine quiet, barely heard over the approaching mob of rippers.