by M. D. Massey
“End this?” David scoffed. “End this? The end is here, Marcus.” He pointed to the open loading dock door. “Look outside!”
His reaction was to follow David’s movements and look outside, and when he did, David fired.
Marcus stepped back, shocked by the sudden impact, and clutched the right side of his chest right below his collarbone. He looked at David and fell to the ground, landing on his rear and holding himself up with his left palm while his right continued to try and stop the bleeding from the black hole in his chest.
David took his time approaching Marcus. He let his eyes leave him to look outside and watch the Empties move aimlessly around the parking lot. The vastness of how much the world had changed hit him in this moment. Outside, people roamed, void of any soul or thought. And though he could still put together coherent thoughts, he felt that perhaps his own soul had passed. He’d come to a place where one of his best friends was bleeding from a gunshot wound that he’d inflicted himself. The moment saddened him, but only briefly, before his cold desire for power crept back in.
He stared down at Marcus, whose eyes were glazing over.
“Who the hell are you?” Marcus asked.
From the back of the building, there was an explosion that shook the floor, causing David to lose his balance, but not quite enough of a shock for him to fall. He smiled, sure that his soldiers had carried out their duty and ended the rebellion in a swift manner.
He looked at Marcus and gave him a grim, cold smile.
David cocked the pistol.
“I am the devil.”
Footsteps were followed by a scream behind him, and right as David turned, a wooden baseball bat connected with the side of his neck, sending him down to the ground. He was out cold.
Marcus looked up and stared into Gabriel’s eyes.
David lay between them in the fetal position, not moving.
Gabriel gripped the bat with both hands, staring down at the black man bleeding from his chest.
Marcus reached for the pistol, his eyes wide, and aimed it past Gabriel.
“Duck!” Marcus yelled.
Gabriel abided, falling to the ground just as a bullet went over him.
Marcus aimed the gun into David’s office, fired, and watched the glass shatter as Diane Baldwin, one of David’s other loyals, fell back, the bullet having hit her in the chest near her heart. She fell out of sight.
Gabriel uncovered his head and looked up at Marcus.
“Thanks,” he said.
Marcus nodded. The adrenaline abated and the realization of his wound returned as he rolled down on his side, grimacing.
Gabriel crouched over Marcus, assessing the wound.
“You need a doctor. Bad.”
Marcus let out a chirping laugh.
“No shit,” he responded with a smile.
Footsteps echoed down the hall and Gabriel took the gun from Marcus, pointing it that way.
Will came around the corner, his weapon ready, and the two men pointed at each other.
Marcus looked back and forth between Will and Gabriel.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Marcus looked at Will. “It’s okay, he’s with us,” he said, looking at Gabriel.
Will lowered his weapon and, moments later, Gabriel did the same.
Holly joined them, walking out from behind Will as they entered the room. She saw Marcus lying on the ground and rushed to his side.
“Oh, God. What happened?” she asked.
A towel sat on top of a box on the other end of the room, and Holly rushed over and grabbed it. She ran back to Marcus, knelt down, and pressed the towel over the wound as he yelled from the initial pressure.
Will looked down and saw David out cold next to them. He tipped his head at him.
“Is he dead?” Will asked.
Gabriel reached down and grabbed David’s wrist, checking his pulse.
He shook his head. “It’s faint, but he’s there.” Then Gabriel looked at Marcus again before bringing his eyes back to Will. “He needs a doctor. He’s losing a lot of blood.”
“I can help.”
The voice came from behind them and Will turned, pointing his gun at the woman across the room.
She raised her hands.
It was Miranda, the other woman in David’s group.
Will lowered his gun.
She walked over to them, keeping her hands raised to show her innocence. That she was unarmed.
“I was a nurse before I started working for this prick,” Miranda said, nodding her head at the unconscious David on the floor.
Will looked to Gabriel and Marcus.
“Whatever we are gonna do, we need to do it fast. We blew the back of this building with a grenade during a shoot-out. It took down a wall to the outside and it wouldn’t surprise me if it attracted some of the Empties.”
Gabriel squinted his face. “Empties?”
Will shook his head. “I’ll explain later. You got a way for us to get out of here?”
Gabriel pointed to the side of the building. “There’s a door that leads out to the side. I’ve got an SUV that we should all be able to squeeze into. Some of those things. Empties, you said? They’re probably out there. I’ll have to jumpstart the truck.” He looked around to the guns. “But I think we can take ‘em out and get him to the truck,” he said, nodding at Marcus.
“Who are you?” Will asked.
Gabriel stood. He tilted his head down slightly and extended his hand to Will.
“Gabriel. Gabriel Alexander.”
Will took his hand. “Will Kessler.”
“Well, Will,” Gabriel said. “Whatever we are gonna do, we need to do it.”
“Did you say you have to jumpstart your truck?” Marcus asked.
Gabriel nodded.
Marcus reached into his pocket, pulled out his keys, and then threw them to Will. “Let’s take mine. It’s the white Escalade parked all the way to the back of that fenced-in area.”
Simultaneously, Will and Gabriel nodded.
“What about him?” Holly asked, looking down at David.
Before Will could respond, Marcus did.
“Leave him.”
They looked at Marcus, and Will nodded, a sign of respect because he knew he had been close to David at one time. The words could not have come easily out of the injured man’s mouth.
Will looked over to Gabriel and smiled.
“You’re gonna need more than a bat.”
Gabriel returned the grin. “Nah, it’s more fun this way.”
There were Empties outside—six of them, to be exact. Gabriel and Will opened the door and cleared the path to the SUV, taking the Empties out one by one, while Miranda and Holly tended to Marcus just inside the building
Will looked to Gabriel.
“I’m going to pull the truck up here. Run inside and see if you can help them get Marcus out here.”
Gabriel nodded, heading back into the warehouse while Will jogged the ten yards to Marcus’ truck.
A few moments later, the three able-bodies appeared at the door, supporting Marcus. They loaded him onto the back seat of the SUV. Miranda joined him in the back, while Holly sat in the trunk area behind the back seat.
Gabriel looked at Will.
“Mind if I drive?”
Will shook his head.
The engine turned over as more Empties were beginning to make their way past the fallen gate.
Gabriel threw the truck into reverse and backed over two of the Empties. Marcus grimaced from the bumpy ride of passing over the bodies.
“Sorry,” Gabriel said, watching behind him through the rearview mirror.
“Where are we headed?” Will asked Gabriel.
“I gotta make a pit stop. I left something in a stranded vehicle on the highway.”
“Then where?”
Gabriel didn’t respond.
When the truck pulled through the fence and into the parking lot, he cut the wheel and whipped it around.
&nbs
p; As Gabriel put it in drive, Will took one last look to the end of the road at Element. He saw Empties walking off the edge of the loading dock and falling face-first to the concrete, having gone in through the front door, scavenging for life that wasn’t there.
For a moment, the truck sat in front of David Ellis’ building—which had smoke rising into the air behind it, from the fire at the back of it. Through the back window Holly could see David still lying on the floor in the center of the warehouse.
She didn’t smile for him. She only watched him lay still as the truck pulled away.
24
Will
After they picked up Dylan from the abandoned car Gabriel had left him in on the highway, they pulled off one of the exits a couple of miles down the road and found an empty quick lube shop at the top of a small hill, a space with no Empties around. Gabriel pulled the SUV inside and they shut the garage doors.
Will looked back at Holly, who was leaning over the back seat and running her hands across the top of Marcus’ head. Dylan had joined her back there and had instantly taken a liking to Holly, which was good, because she seemed to be good with kids and the boy needed a distraction to stay calm.
“How is he?” Will asked, looking at Miranda.
“He’s lost a lot of blood. He’s lucky. It looks like the bullet missed all his organs. For the moment, I’ve suppressed the bleeding, but he’s still in rough shape. But for now, I think he can just rest.”
Will nodded. He reached into his bag, grabbed his cell phone, and then looked over to Gabriel and gave him a nod toward the door, asking him to join him outside of the SUV.
They got out and stepped a few feet in front of the truck. The garage smelled like old, settled motor oil. Like the place hadn’t been used in over a decade. On a table nearby, there was a dust-covered packet of chewing tobacco and a black-stained work shirt thrown over a chair. The name patch still showed and read “Ricky” in cursive red letters.
Gabriel bobbed his head toward the pouch of chewing tobacco. “Wish that was a pack of cigarettes.”
Will smiled. “I quit a year ago. Just not worth it, ya know?”
“Would be right about now.”
“Thanks a lot for what you did back there.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“So, what now?”
Gabriel slipped his hands into the pockets of his athletic pants and hopped on his tip-toes for a moment, trying to stay warm.
“I’m headed to Washington D.C. My wife and daughter are there and so is the boy’s family.”
“Have you spoken with them?”
Gabriel sighed and just looked to the ground.
“I’ll be glad to take you guys anywhere you need along the way. But I’ve got to get there.”
Will nodded.
Gabriel looked down at the phone. “That thing work? I wouldn’t mind making a call. I lost my phone in the plane crash.”
Will cocked his head. “You were in that crash?”
Gabriel nodded. “We were the only two survivors,” he said, looking at Dylan.
“Shit,” Will said.
“So, does it work?”
Will shrugged. “I wasn’t getting a signal before. I just turned it off to save power.”
He pressed his thumb against the power button at the top and watched the black light brighten as the phone began to boot.
While he waited, Gabriel peeked around the garage. He put his hand on a stack of old used tires, the tread almost completely washed away from the one on top. On the wall was a calendar with a gorgeous blonde wearing a bikini that looked to be a size too small, minimum. Gabriel walked to it and checked the month: July 2011.
As he turned around, he kicked something. He looked down and his eyes lit up. Two red, metal gas cans lay at his feet, and they didn’t budge when he kicked them. He leaned over, picking up the first one and finding it half full. The second was almost three-quarters of the way full. Down on one knee, he unscrewed the cap, releasing the smell of pure, unleaded fuel into the air. He walked both cans in a farmer’s carry back to the SUV.
Will looked over. “Oh, shit. They full?”
“Almost.”
“Thank God.”
“Anything yet?”
“It finished booting, but no service yet.”
Will waited, licking his lips as he stared at the corner of the screen, hoping that the words No Service would be replaced with tiny, ascending columns.
Then the phone beeped, which made Gabriel approach and look over Will’s shoulder.
Multiple missed calls appeared, all from the same number Will didn’t recognize. It had an 865 area code.
“Do you know anyone in Knoxville?” Gabriel asked. He knew the area code from having had to call on clients there in the past.
Will shook his head. He pressed a few keys on the phone and re-dialed the number. It took almost no time for the phone to beep at him. He tried two more times with the same result. Disappointment: that’s what covered his face.
“Sorry, man,” Gabriel said, sincerely. He felt the timing might be a little too quick, but he asked anyway, “Mind if I try to reach my wife and daughter?”
Keeping his eyes to the floor, Will shook his head and handed the phone to Gabriel.
“Thanks.”
Gabriel couldn’t dial the number fast enough. Every moment since that crash he’d thought of his wife and daughter. Begged and pleaded to hear their voices, to see them again. He rounded his lips with his tongue, moistening them and tasting the salt from the sweat, then bit his bottom lip.
The phone rang once and he gasped.
Then a busy signal.
Frantically, he tried again. And again. And once more. All with the same result.
Will felt his disappointment. “Sorry, bro.”
Gabriel handed him the phone and went to the other side of the room, and then sat on a small, black stool with wheels. He put his face in his hands and Will allowed him to be alone.
As Will went to slip the phone into the back pocket of his jeans, it chirped. He looked at the lit screen and read: 1 New Text Message. After sliding his thumb across the screen, the message appeared:
Will, it’s your mother. I can’t reach you. I want you to know that I am ok. Your father and I went to a hotel in the North Carolina mountains. Things got crazy. With a girl now and headed to Knoxville. I hope to see you soon. Love you.
Will went to his knees, clutched the phone to his chest, and wept.
Epilogue
Two days later…
* * *
Down Interstate 40, abandoned cars lined the road and bodies lay bathing in the sun, still warm, though winter was steadfastly approaching. Many of the bodies had begun to decay; their flesh had been picked from the bone by the Empty bodies, which still limped up and down the highway, aimlessly looking for more life to devour.
Lawrence sped down the highway, swerving to miss dead bodies and looking into the faces of the creeping death that wandered on the open road. Every day he did this and every day he had hope that he would find more survivors.
He worked his normal route, scared to veer from it due to the fear of what he might see. In the new world, the familiar was your friend.
The world had changed. And for Lawrence Holloway, the adaptation to his sudden new responsibility still overwhelmed him.
It was the first day in three that it hadn’t rained. The reemergence of the sun brought at least a little bit of joy into his day.
It had been a few days since Lawrence last found any survivors. Day after day of driving into the sleeping world without a hint of life had begun to wear thin on him.
Then in the distance, he saw something. It was a different movement. Not so much unlike the dead lurkers who moved unbalanced down the road, but also not much like them. More like him.
He pressed the gas, moving the ambulance down the road with haste.
It came to a stop next to the ditch, and one look confirmed exactly what Lawrence had
hoped. It was a man. A living, breathing man. He had fallen off the shoulder and was lying on his back, his nose to the sun and eyes closed.
Lawrence rolled down the window.
“Hello?” he yelled.
The man didn’t move.
Lawrence jumped out of the ambulance. Forty yards away, four beasts weaved in and out of abandoned cars toward them. He ran to the man’s side and began to shake him.
“Wake up. I’m here to help you,” Lawrence said.
The man opened his eyes and brought his hands around Lawrence’s neck.
Lawrence gasped for air.
“Here to help you,” Lawrence said through faint breath.
The man loosened his grip, realizing that Lawrence wasn’t one of the undead.
Lawrence held his throat and gasped for his breath.
“I’m sorry,” the drifter said. “I thought you were one of them.”
Lawrence continued to writhe, shaking his head and waving the man off as if to say it was okay. He caught his breath.
“Are you wounded?” Lawrence said with a hoarse voice.
“Sort of,” the man said. “I’m mainly just hungry. Tired.”
The beasts were gaining ground, the position of the cars buying the men a little time.
Lawrence looked to them.
“Yeah, well, so are they. So unless you wanna be their lunch, I suggest that we get the hell out of here.”
Lawrence extended his hand and the drifter took it.
Lawrence opened the back of the ambulance and helped the battered man inside. He shut the back doors, making sure the handles were locked in place, and hustled to the cockpit. The creatures were in front of him, but instead of running them over, he put the ambulance into reverse and gave himself enough space to turn around.
“Why didn’t you just run them over?” the drifter asked.
Lawrence smiled and shrugged, staring at the blue eyes in the rearview mirror.
“Why would I do that? They were people. I wouldn’t run over a grave if I didn’t have to.”
The drifter looked away, putting his hand to his lips.