28
I don’t exactly know when the attack started. They are already streaming down the hills on either side of us and tearing through the lines before I know what is happening.
It’s our gunner that gets my attention, he kicks the back of my seat and yells, “WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!” After that, everything else is drowned out as the .50 springs to life above me. It sucks the sound away and shakes the vehicle back and forth as if it’s strapped to a washing machine.
“Let’s go, let’s go!” I don’t know if Marv can hear me. Nevertheless, he throws us into park, picks his weapon up and slides from his seat, vanishing on the opposite side of the Humvee.
I come out on one knee. Expecting just to start picking targets and firing.
No such luck.
It’s overwhelming.
It’s chaos.
Everything is tangled.
Rabid and Refugee blend together. One person.
Teeth rip into flesh. There are screams of panic. Of death. Screams pleading for help. People ducking between the clash of bodies and crying out for their loved ones.
As I move up the line, a figure crashes into my waist, wrapping their arms around me. I bring my elbow down, hard, right into the center of their spine and flip them across my knee with one arm, laying them out on their back as I level my rifle at their head and prepare to pull the trigger.
It’s a woman. Bloodied. Crying. Not Rabid.
She raises her hands, shaking. “God, please, don’t hurt me. Have you seen my son?”
I consider her for a moment, looking for any obvious bites.
Nothing obvious.
As I turn away to continue moving, I can still hear her voice echoing above the storm, “My son, please, help me, someone!”
I’m approaching the next Humvee. A man is being slammed up against the hood by a Rabid. He’s bawling, trying to press the decrepit head back. It breaks through his defenses, time and time again, tearing fresh chunks of flesh from his arm with each nip.
I put a round through both of their heads, ending the struggle and the suffering.
More refugees fall from the crowd, rolling across the back bumper of the Humvee. Rabid clinging to their flesh. Sealing their coffins with a single bite. There are more targets than I have bullets for. More Rabid being created every second.
I hear them coming at me from the left. Their groans give them away. Their mating call. Their lust for my flesh preventing them from getting the drop on me. I don’t have much room to maneuver. I fall back against the passenger door of the second Humvee, wincing as the mirror pops me in the back of the head. The first Rabid is close enough that I don’t even have to aim. I don’t hear the gunshot. I just see the top of his head explode. After that, I shoulder my rifle and select my targets.
One shot. One dead Rabid.
I don’t have the ammo to afford a miss.
They fall around me, marring the highway with their black blood.
My hands grow weak as I look up at the hill in front of me. Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. Black dots rushing towards us like some demonic avalanche.
The .50 gunner above me stops firing and leans over. “Tim, I’m almost out of ammo. There are too goddamn many! We’ve got to get the fuck out of here, now!”
“Concentrate all you’ve got on that hill!” I point. “When you’re out, grab whoever you can and go!”
“My driver is dead!”
“Then grab whoever you can and drive it your goddamn self!”
He swings around and concentrates his fire on the ensuing tide of dead rushing towards us from the hill. Large swaths of earth and gore explode into the air beneath the force of the large caliber rounds. They trip and fall across the bodies of their dismembered and disemboweled comrades, but, they keep coming, unhindered by the face of death.
They’ve seen it once. What’s a second go around the graveyard?
I’ve got to get to Momma and Bethany.
I look down the line.
I see their Humvee.
The gunner on top is firing indiscriminately into the terror-stricken crowd.
I don’t see them.
The doors are open, but I don’t see them.
I begin to shoot my way through the mob in front of me, breaking into a slow jog. Moving down the line. Death to my right and left. Hopping over the bodies that fall in front of me.
Cold fingers wrap across my arm. I swing and hammer my reaper across the face, breaking free.
“Help!”
“God, no, no, no!”
“Get this fucking thing off of me!”
It’s all noise. There’s nothing that can be done. It all fades in and out. One desperate call replaced by another as I duck and weave my way up the column. Bodies fly. Body parts fly. I leap across fallen corpses and roll beneath swinging arms.
Almost there.
Someone grabs my elbow and turns me.
Marv. “We gotta get the fuck out of here! We’re done! Overrun! These people, they’re all dead, man! We need to grab a vehicle and go!”
“Not till I find Bethany and my ma!”
“Well, I’m fuckin’ goin!”
I pull my .45 and jam it against his belly. “Marv, you take one of these vehicles and sprint ass outta here before I say so and you better pray I don’t see you down the line.”
He just stares. I don’t see any fear or rebellion. There’s nothing. Just a man weighing his options.
I leave him to his thoughts.
I’m a few feet away. There’s only a tangled crowd of Refugees and Rabid standing between me and the third Humvee.
I raise my rifle and prepare to carve a path. My targets are all Rabid or they’re on their way to becoming Rabid. At least that’s what I tell myself. I step across the bodies, aiming and firing. Elbowing and kicking my feet. Watching the sidelines for stray teeth and claws.
The .50 on the third Humvee goes dry just as I arrive.
Fucking figures.
The gunner pulls his sidearm and gets to work. Teeth bared. In it for the long haul.
I check the inside of the Humvee.
Nothing.
Just shell casings.
Shuffling.
Gurgling just over my shoulder.
I swing the butt of my rifle around and catch the Rabid across the jaw. The beast spirals to the ground and I stamp down on the back of its head with my boot heel until the skull shatters and the contents within splatter across the pavement like an egg being dropped into a frying pan.
I move to the bumper, peering desperately into the battling mob, trying to find something familiar.
Just blood and bodies.
I check the magazine on my rifle.
Not much left.
I’ve got the .45 and an extra mag. Then, that’s it. They’re both blunt instruments after that. They won’t get me far.
Four bodies come tumbling out of the battle and fall before me. Clawing. Biting. Arms and legs kicking this way and that. Blood and spittle flying. Muffled screams.
Two Rabid?
No, three Rabid, one unfortunate soul.
A blanket of fatty flesh is ripped free and thrown to the ground at my feet. I take aim and fire into the mass of bodies. They vibrate and come to a rest. My gun is dry. I toss it to the ground and draw my pistol. Ready to make my final stand, looking for my next target.
“Move, move the fuck out of the way!”
Katia!
She’s coming in from my left, slicing through the crowd. Heads roll and limbs fly. She keeps one shoulder down as she pushes her way through.
She’s got a sword in one hand and her other is curled around...
Bethany.
..oh God, no...
Bethany is soaked through with blood, head lolling, eyes barely open.
“Tim!” Katia kicks a Rabid behind the knee, drops him and cleaves his head with her blade. “Grab her! Come on!”
I run in and catch Bethany in my arms, my knees buckling slight
ly as I absorb her weight.
Two Rabid charge us. I slide my pistol arm around Bethany’s back and send a round through each one of their heads.
“Is she bitten?” I ask, pulling her back towards the Humvee.
“Just get her in the vehicle, Tim. We’ve got to get the fuck out of here!” Katia’s hair, what little there is of it, is plastered to her head with sweat and gore. Her shirt is torn. There’s a long slice across the bottom of her abdomen that’s leaking fresh blood down the front of her pants. She doesn’t seem to mind. She keeps moving, slicing and dicing our path to safety.
“My momma...” It suddenly hits me as I’m loading Bethany into the passenger seat. I turn to go back.
Katia is there. A firm hand planted against my chest. “Tim, we’ve got to go!”
“But...”
“She’s gone! Okay! Gone! I saw her go down!”
“No! Let me go! Let me go!” Something shatters inside of me and spirals away into the darkness. Beyond my grasp. I know Katia is telling the truth. I fall into her arms as my eyes bleed. As a pain takes hold inside of me that is unlike anything I’ve ever felt.
She props my face in her hands and beholds my brokenness with tender eyes. “I’m so sorry, Tim but now is not the time to mourn.”
I nod with numb recognition.
I stumble into the passenger seat, propping Bethany up in my lap, letting her head fall against my chest.
Katia runs around to the driver side and jumps behind the wheel.
The .50 gunner in between us, his pistol empty.
“What about everyone else?” he asks, breathlessly.
“There is no everyone else. Hang on.” Katia turns the key and floors the gas pedal, pressing me into my seat and sending our gunner slipping and sliding backwards across the expended shells of ammunition. She bursts through the crowd, running down survivor and attacker alike. There are no favorites. They burst and pop beneath our tires. Speed bumps on our path to survival.
Survive or die.
Momma...
For a second, I even think of Marv.
Did he make it?
Fuck, I should have just told him to go ahead and get out while the gettin’ was good.
But…mostly, I just think of Momma. Lying back there. Bloody and broken on the battlefield.
I’m glad I didn’t have to see her like that.
Glad I saw her this morning.
Glad I hugged her and kissed her cheek; told her that I loved her.
It doesn’t slow the tears. It just makes them sting a little less.
29
“Tim, she’s been bitten, you know that right?”
I look down at Bethany and brush a bloody strand of hair from in front of her eyes. She rolls her head over and manages a weak smile, snuggling deeper into my chest. I can’t see the bite mark. Just the blood. I’m not ready to see it. “Yeah, I know.” I shake, twice. Deep sobs. Broken. Completely fucking broken.
“...she’s..she’s bitten?” the gunner behind us asks nervously. “We gotta put her down. She can’t be in here with us!”
I’d be on top of him right now, beating him mercilessly, if I didn’t have my sister in my arms.
“What’s your name?” Katia asks the man, her voice calm and cool, her eyes on the road, her face dotted with the blood of her enemies.
“Sonny...they call me Sonny.”
Katia nods. “Alright then, Sonny, here’s the deal. Open your mouth again and I’ll gut you. Sound fair?”
His response is a choke of disbelief.
“I’ll take that as agreement. Now, if you’re uncomfortable with the current situation, I’ll slow down just enough for you to jump out without breaking your legs. Otherwise, sit back there and shut your fucking mouth.”
We slip and slide through time. The scenery around me is a blur. If Katia or the asshole in the backseat talk, I don’t hear them. It’s all a tide of emotion for me. Rising. Never falling. Higher in my chest now. Threatening to suffocate me.
Bethany’s voice breaks the spell. “It hurts.”
I look down at her. She grimaces. Hands clamped at her side. The area with the biggest concentration of blood. Somewhere beneath all that. Beneath the sopping fabric. Teeth marks. The harbingers of her doom. The purveyors of my broken heart.
I sniff and gently lay my hands across hers. “It’s nothing. We got this.”
She fishes a hand from beneath mine and lays it against my face. A weak smile pulling at her mouth. “Tim,” she coughs, blood speckling her chin, “always trying to save me. Always trying to play the hero.”
The build-up of tears behind my eyelids breaks loose and slides down across her hand. “That’s what big brothers do. I guess I didn’t try hard enough, huh?”
“They broke the mold with you. You’re the best big brother I could have ever asked for. You know this wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?”
“That...” a sob breaks through, “doesn’t...that doesn’t make it any...easier.” I pull her to me and just hold her there.
My face buried in her hair.
Her arms clasped weakly around my neck.
If I could somehow stop time, freeze everything, I’d pause the tape right here.
The bumps in the road come and go. We move out of the cities and into the countryside. Broken buildings are replaced with broken landscapes, abandoned barns and fence lines in need of patching. This place had seen a different sort of apocalypse. One that ran through long before the dead started walking. The Rabid are much more scarce out here. Along with supplies and shelter.
At some point, Katia pulls the vehicle off to the side of the road. We bump to a stop and we sit there for a while. Silent. Except for my muffled sobbing and Bethany’s ragged breathing.
“Tim.” Katia gently nudges one of my arms with two fingers. It takes a couple times, but eventually she gets my attention.
I look up. Her face appears like some blurry water color, left out on the back porch to dry. No discernible features. Just a hint of blue sky. A hint of human.
“Tim, it’s time.”
I shake my head. The painting starts to dry. I can see her face now. Like a mirror. Reflecting my pain. There is something else there as well, something I don’t recognize in myself at the moment; strength and resolve. It does nothing to alleviate the weight in my chest. The pounding in my head. I look down at Bethany. Her eyes are still cracked. Her gaze is foggier now. Her skin waxen. She can still see me. Through all that haze, she can still find the shoreline. She smiles.
“Hold the fort.” Katia says to the man in the backseat before grabbing the keys and leaping out. It doesn’t take her long to reach my side of the vehicle. She opens the door gently and extends her arms. “Here, give her to me so you can get out.”
I relent. Moving slowly. Delicately. Bethany barely stirs as she’s passed from me to Katia. Her head droops and comes to rest against Katia’s shoulder, her legs swinging limply over her forearm.
There isn’t much time left. There never is. Not here. Not in this place.
I come down carefully on the packed earth. My knees are wobbly. I can’t breathe. Everything around me is seizing in and out as if under some giant terrestrial microscope.
Katia gently places Bethany back into my arms. “Where do you want to...” Katia doesn’t finish the sentence. She doesn’t need to. I know the score. I understand the decision I’m making.
The sun is gone. Hiding behind a cloud somewhere. Reverent to our plight. We’re surrounded by open fields and broken barbed wire. Bales of hay have come apart, their ashes scattered across oceans of knee high grass. In the distance, there is a single tree rising against the brown and gray.
“There,” I say, my eyes pointing the way, my voice barely rising above the unfettered wind galloping across the plane.
Katia leads us down a small embankment. She holds back a few lines of barbed wire and kicks aside a fallen post. I step lightly, carrying the sagging body of my beloved sister towards t
he shadow of the distant tree.
Katia comes up beside me. Peeking across my arms. Checking Bethany’s condition. “We need to move just a little faster, Tim. I know it’s...”
“Okay.” I increase my pace. I don’t need to check her condition. I can feel the life leaving her body. The burden in my arms is slowly increasing.
We approach the foot of the tree. It rises above us like some dark tower. One final tragic stop on our noble quest. Its branches welcome us. Falling in at our backs. Wrapping us in shadow. Allowing us this moment of agonizing solitude.
I squeeze Bethany against my chest, one last time, crying into her beautiful black hair as I kiss her cheek and slowly set her back against the thick layer of smooth bark.
I remember the purple streak in her bangs. I remember her desperately begging Momma for that touch of color.
“All the other kids are doing it,” she’d whined.
I remember Momma’s objection. The fight. The crying. The pouting. Momma finally relenting and helping her color it in the bathroom sink. How they’d laughed when it came out neon the first go around and how Bethany had pranced around the house, posing in all the mirrors, when they’d finally gotten it right.
I remember.
My sister.
Momma.
Momma and Bethany. My ladies. My rocks.
What the hell am I supposed to do now?
Bethany’s eyes flutter open. She finds me. She tries to reach for my face, but I stop her, lowering her hand down into her lap and lacing my fingers through hers.
She’s sweating, but her hands are like ice.
It’s close now.
“Tim...” she squeaks, blood flowing over her bottom lip and coating her chin.
Katia moves quickly to clean it up with her shirt sleeve, trying to protect me.
I bite my lip and manage a shaky response. “Yes, I’m here, sis, I’m right here.”
“I’m scared...really scared...”
“Me...me too...” I whimper.
Be strong, goddamnit! You’re supposed to be strong!
Her head falls. She startles and catches herself. “Tim...do you think...do you...think...there is anything after?” Small little diamonds form at the corners of her eyes.
The Rabid: Rise Page 20