by Amy Miles
Monroe looks at each of his soldiers in turn. “Cyrus told us to trust her.”
“Yeah, and Cyrus also said she’s doing all kinds of freaky stuff too,” Hadley says. “You heard what she did to Kenzie.”
“That wasn’t on me,” I glare at me. “I warned them against that course of action but I was forced.”
“What does it matter?” Hadley pushes up into my face. My finger clenches on the ax in my hand as I lower Warren to the floor and turn to face her. “She died horribly because of what’s inside of you.”
“And now because of that, you just might have a chance to live if you get out of my face, yank those panties out of your ass and follow me. It’s your choice. I’m done apologizing and I’m done talking.”
I send her flying through the air with a small shove. She smacks hard into the wall and groans as she doubles over. I smile as I listen to her wheezing breath as I pass by.
“Wait!” I glance back over at my shoulder at Monroe. He looks torn and confused, but desperate for a solution. “How many are coming for us?”
I offer him a sad smile. “All of them.”
“Shit.” He runs his hands through his hair. “This can’t be happening.”
“Man up, will you?” I say, turning back. “Nox, Cyrus, Fletcher and every damn person in this building are going to die if you don’t help me. Now I am willing to do this on my own if I have to but the chances of us surviving increase if you join me. I know which one I’d rather pick but it’s on you. These are your people.”
He glances at the men around him. Each one stands rigid and the scent of fear hangs thick in the air. My nostrils flare when I realize that it is an actual scent, not just something figurative. It is tantalizing and coils in my belly as I fight against the waves of hunger that roll over me.
“You okay?” I blink and realize that Monroe is now standing in front of me. When he lifts his light, I back away, shielding myself from the brilliance. “You don’t like the light so much yourself, do you?”
“I see better in the dark now.”
From somewhere behind him I hear Warren mutter freak and know that he is right. I am a freak, but I’m also their best shot at surviving.
“I only need three men to watch my back. The others need to rendezvous with Nox and gear up, but first, I need you to get something for me.”
“Now she’s making demands?”
I ignore Warren’s snide comment and walk over to a map laid out on the wall just a few steps away and I point to the hallway that I’m pretty sure I just came from. “Halfway down, in this general area, you will find a slaughter zone. If he’s not already dead, there’s a man in a maintenance uniform named Henry with his intestines dragging behind him. He is lying not far from where I left a kid locked up in a storage room.
His name is Flynn and he’s probably going to be pretty ticked at me when you let him out, but he needs to get back to Nox. He knows my plan and he’s handy in a fight. Send your men back to get him on their way to the armory and I promise he will prove to be an asset.”
Monroe rubs his hands over the stubble on his face and looks at the hallway stretching out before us. “The generators are a good five-minute walk from here in good conditions. I don’t reckon we will make it in that time.”
Drying my clammy hands on my pants before reaffirming my grip on the ax, I smile over at him. “We won’t have to worry about that. It will be a clear shot.”
“What makes you say that?”
Looking down the deserted hall, I sense the writhing tide of anger held in check in the distance. “Because they are waiting for us. If I’m right we will be allowed to walk right up to the generator without losing a single person.”
Monroe puffs outs his cheeks and then releases a long, slow breath. “I’m guessing I don’t want to ask what happens when we arrive.”
“No.” I shake my head and turn my back on him as I lead the way. “Be thankful you will be blind once we get there. It’s going to be quite a sight to see.”
In the end, Monroe selects Warren and Hadley to join my rescue mission while the others rush off in the opposite direction. There is no need to warn them about the dangers that might be lurking in the dark. Whatever scouts that had been on my tail have fallen back. From all around the hotel I can feel them racing in our direction, converging on the generator room.
I should have known the instant that Flesh Bag appeared behind me that this was the final destination. The alpha has proven to be too intelligent not to foresee my plans. The lights were our only hope of winning this battle and it knew that. All it had to do was sit back and wait for us to arrive.
The sound of pounding boots behind me echoes all around as we start off at a slow job. We make no effort to hide our approach as we puff and pant, weary from tension and fighting. The terrifying snarls, growls and chattering teeth from up ahead drown out everything else as we slow to a walk. The closer I draw to the horde, the stronger the tug in my mind is toward their alpha.
“Turn off your lights,” I call back over my shoulder when I hit a turn in the hallway and am blasted with a thundering roar of outrage.
“Is she nuts? Like hell I’m going dark!”
“Hadley, just do it!” Monroe reaches to shut off his light. Slowly Hadley obeys and Warren is the only one remaining with his light on. It twitches against the floor, illuminating dozens of dirty feet and bloody shoes lining the hall before us.
“Warren,” Monroe says and reaches behind him for the gun but meets with air instead. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Stupid?” Warren’s responding laugh is shrill and screechy. I turn and see that he has tripped over into full on panic mode as he backs away. “This is suicide. Do you really want to walk through that on her word alone? No way. I’m not dying for anyone today!”
A sharp snarl over Warren’s shoulders makes him squeal like a potbelly pig.
“Don’t move, asshat!” I hurry toward him with my hands raised in surrender and find myself thankful that he can’t see the white eyes appearing over his shoulder. If he could, he would faint dead away right then and there. “You need to turn off your light nice and slow.”
Warren shakes his head and clings to his gun but a second late he screams and is yanked to the right. The sound of the gun smashing into dozens of pieces when it strikes the wall is met with a low grunting that reminds me of an ape in a zoo just before it beats its chest. Warren’s light flickers out and the hallway is thrown into darkness.
“It attacked me. I almost died!”
“If it wanted you dead, Warren your head would already be on the floor by now. It was protecting itself and for good reason. You are shit with a gun,” I almost want to laugh at the terrified look on his face but I worry the reaction it might have in the Withered. “Now I want you to step slowly toward me. Do not make any sudden movements or it will strike again and it looks like it’s just itching to have a reason to take a bite out of you.”
That was probably a cruel thing to say at a time like this but the snickers behind me tell me that I’m not alone in seeing the humor of it all. The guy needs to be taken down a peg or two.
Tremors of fear ripple through Warren’s entire body as he steps forward. When the Flesh Bag moves with him, sticking close enough that I’m sure Warren can smell death on its breath I see a spreading wetness near his groin just before the pungent scent of urine reaches me.
“Did he seriously just piss himself?” I look to my right to see Hadley’s nose scrunched with disgust.
Heat rises within my heart rate increases, pounding against my chest as I fight against the irrational hunger that is mirrored by every single Withered in this hallway. How is their alpha controlling them to such an extreme extent to allow us to walk freely past them without harm?
“Is it going to eat me?” Warren shuffles forward another step. The Withered follo
ws directly behind him.
“Not if you keep moving just like that. They aren’t here to kill us.” Perhaps that is stretching the truth a bit. I can feel their hunger and their desire to tear Warren limb from limb but their will is temporarily chained. If given the chance, like the Flesh Bag back in the hallway, I think that they would break rank and sink their teeth into him before the alpha even knew it had happened.
“I don’t want to die,” he whispers.
In the dark, I can see that his nose is running and his eyes are wide and unseeing. He is nearly as pale as the zombies behind him.
“Just do as she says,” Monroe says. I can see him reaching blindly for Hadley’s hand. When they find each other, they draw closer together. Using verbal cues, I lead Warren to them and soon all three are linked with their guns slung over their back. Each of them knows that their survival rests solely in my hands now.
Turning away from them, I stare down the long hall and wish that I were just as blind as the people behind me. “Monroe, take hold of my shoulder and step when I step. Do not reach out to our right or left. Trust me, you don’t want to know what’s there.”
I hear an audible gulp from behind me and then a firm grip settles on my shoulder. I place my hand over his and lead the group forward, shuffling through only a tiny portion of the horde that I know spreads beyond this path, but their fewer numbers are no less terrifying.
As I walk, I try to think about how I will distract the alpha long enough to allow someone to reach the generator. It is a flawed plan and one with far too many windows of failure, but it is the only one that I have. None of us will survive this attack if sacrifices aren’t made.
“Which way?” I ask when we reach a T in the hallway. Flesh Bags fan out in a long line in both directions, standing two bodies thick. Their arms and legs reach for us but none makes contact.
“You need to turn left and head toward the convention center. That’s where the generator is being housed,” Hadley responds.
“I was afraid you were going to say that.” Sniffing in that direction I can smell an appealing odor that my human sides knows means this is a trap.
“Do I want to know?” Monroe asks from directly behind me as I ponder the insanity of how I have already begun to compartmentalize myself into human and not. It’s true that I still maintain my human thoughts, memories, and feelings but there are animalistic urges that continue to grow stronger.
Shoving aside those thoughts for a time when I can properly process them, I reply, “Let’s just say it’s going to get a bit slippery. Watch your step.”
I lead them through the heart of the writhing mass. Less than twenty paces in we reach our first puddle of blood and I hear Warren swear when his boot slips and he collides with a Withered. I turn just in time to see one rake its nails down his arm before he rights himself.
“I thought you said they won’t attack,” Hadley says.
“No. I said they wouldn’t kill. There’s a difference.” I stare a moment too long at the blood leaking from Warren’s arm before mentally shaking myself and pushing on.
With each step that I take, I feel a new tension mounting within me. I have no idea what to expect when we arrive at the generator but I fear that it will be worse than I anticipate. The alpha both terrifies and draws me to continue moving forward.
“What’s the plan when we arrive?” Monroe asks. This time, his voice is shaky and I wonder if he accidentally bumped one of the hands reaching for him. For the moment, blindness is a blessing for him and his small crew.
“I’m working on it.”
“What about Nox and the others?” Hadley pipes up.
“They will be heading this way soon,” I respond and my pace quickens. “We need to be ready for when they arrive.”
“You really think we can take all of these zombies out?”
I glance back over my shoulder at Monroe. “No. We just need to drive them back. Dawn will do the rest for us.”
“Anyone know how long that will be?” Warren mutters.
“At least another half hour but it could be longer. My shift on the perimeter was due to end at dawn but being stuck in this consuming darkness makes time seem like it stretches on forever,” Hadley says and I feel Monroe’s hand tighten on my shoulder.
Not knowing the time means that our margin of error just amplified and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it. What will happen if we manage to get the lights back on only to push them out into the night where they can easily regroup and attack from a different angle?
“Let’s focus on one problem at a time.” I slow to a stop when we reach a set of open double doors. Just beyond that is a wide carpeted corridor and a pile of bodies. “Oh god!”
“What?” Monroe tugs on my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“They are piling the dead, both their own and ours,” I whisper and stare at the growing mound of the dead and the line of Withered carrying them in. Some come with random arms and legs while others tote whole bodies over their shoulders with blood and entrails dripping down their backs. The mound stands at least thirty feet in diameter and rises well above my head.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, overcome with grief over the enormous loss that was suffered tonight. Nox is right. These aren’t my people, but at times like these when the world is divided between us and them, people are people.
“What is that smell?” Warren asks as he huddles in close to Hadley.
She turns and tries to shove him back but he clings tightly to her as we move through the open space. Hundreds of Withered watch as we approach, working like ants in unison but as I pass I am inundated with individual pulses of rage and hunger.
“That would be the scent of shit,” Hadley says to Warren. “Your muscles go weak and you shit your pants when you die. You would know that if you ever actually did anything on missions.”
My mouth feels dry as an opening is created off to the right and a path clears for us. My thoughts scatter as I try to grasp onto an idea, any idea that might get us out of this situation, but none settle long enough to form. Our only hope is that Nox will arrive in time to lay down some cover fire for someone to get that generator back on line.
With each step that I take, I feel my stomach tighten. After all, that I have been through, will I finally meet my end in the main hall of the Grand Opryland Hotel? I never even liked country music.
The Withered fan out as we enter into the vast space and I feel the rush of cool air over my skin and sigh with relief. From behind me, I hear Warren swear as I try to locate the chill’s source.
“Welcome,” a masculine voice echoes throughout the room and the three behind me come to an abrupt halt. There is no way to know exactly where the voice came from as I look out across the ballroom. As far as I can see, Flesh Bags stretch to the far corners of the room. Over a thousand heads stare right back at us. “We have been expecting you.”
“The zombies can talk now?” Warren squeaks.
“That’s no zombie,” Hadley hisses and stomps on his foot when he tries to climb onto her back.
The Flesh Bags pull back from us like a tide going out to sea, with skin so white they almost glow translucent. That is when I realize that they do radiate some sort of light. I can almost see a pale blue under their skin, like thousands of tiny sparks of electricity and I’m curious. Looking down at myself I do not see the same thing and wonder why I’m different.
“Do you have anything on you other than a gun?” I whisper back over my shoulder as I keep my eyes focused on the zombies.
They move as one as I sense the alpha’s approach. I can feel him in the tug within my gut as if lassoed by a rope and drawn forward, but I resist. I can’t let him see my weakness, even if I suspect that he can already feel it.
I glance back over my shoulder to see the ranks of zombies fall in behind us, sealing off the exit to the c
orridor beyond. Although the doors remain standing open, there is no way that we would make it through that mess and to the atrium beyond. The alpha is smart. He knows that once the sun rises that entire glass domed section of the hotel will be off limits. That is where Nox needs to funnel the survivors to but I have no way of communicating that to him.
“We have a couple smoke bombs, some spent magazines, a flare gun, and a broken radio. That was Warren’s doing,” Hadley adds as a side note with a heavy dose of contempt.
“Get that flare gun in Monroe’s hand but don’t pull the trigger until I say. No matter what happens, hold for my signal.” I see a stirring among the Withered and turn to watch. Something is moving up ahead of me and shifting toward my right.
Monroe eases his hand back toward Henley. Together they work to load the gun in the blinding dark and I see two spare flares but I doubt we will have time to use them.
“It is rude not to respond when welcomed, don’t you think?” The alpha calls again, this time from off to my right and definitely closer. I see more Withered shift to allow him room to walk and wonder if he waited to speak because he was listening to our whispered plan.
“Is this what you call a welcoming party?” I shout out. The Withered stand side by side, swaying slowly as all eyes turn and I shift to look directly down the line of my right shoulder. A parting begins and the zombies shuffle sideways to create a long gap.
“You would not have come without proper cause.”
The man’s voice echoes all around and I realize a hush has fallen over the crowd. Unblinking white eyes stare as a man emerges from the masses. His clothing is simple: a black tank top and camouflage pants. He could have easily walked our halls and none of the soldiers would have known that he didn’t belong.
A camouflage hat is pulled down low over his eyes and I find myself frustrated to know if his are as white as all of the others.