Its fur was matted from the blood. The eyes were sunken and the brows were enlarged as if being viciously bruised, and in its forehead was Mike's Blade.
“It looks upset.” I stated.
“Wouldn’t you be?” George mentioned.
The Runner took a few steps from side to side, and I could see the cryptic walk in the beast; it was the same as his brethren before him. I took it the experiment wasn't fully complete to its projected core perfection, nor should it be in performance. And Sworn knew it.
“Let’s hope reinforcements arrive soon.” Mike said.
We had to think about the rest of the groups that were depending on us to get them out the city. If Sworn wanted to check out how his creep feature was going to act in close quarter battle and test its loyalty, then he must have been pretty damn confident that he was engaging on a sure shit design that he intended to walk away from, unscathed and victorious – just not on my watch.
“Yeah, unless they’re smart,” George said, rather cowardly.
Sworn’s unfinished gift of death sniffed the air; I suppose it was as blind as the others. We tried not to make any sudden moves, then George stood up with his AK-47 and unloaded shots into the hairy beast's upper body. Blood leaked from its wounds, but it slowly healed itself after three long-lived seconds.
“You still curious George?” Mike asked George. “It ain’t gonna work that way.”
The animal roared. It pounded the ground and stood erectus, then hunched over and snarled in the direction the bullets came... George!
“I guess that grabbed its attention, though.” I said.
“Look alive.” Mike said.
“What, you want me to look dead?” I said.
Lowering itself on all fours, the animal growled in George's direction. We all stood guard as we could tell it was preparing its strike.
Then, realizing Sworn's men didn't fire on us after George shot, we quickly grabbed our battle rifles to give Sworn's so-called warrior a taste of what it wanted.
“Any suggestions?” I asked the open question.
“Yeah… Open fire.” Mike answered.
We unloaded our magazines into the face, upper and lower body of the creature; and it went down leaking blood.
Sworn's men didn't budge. Their positions and stance never changed. It was like they were inferior and impenetrable to our slug fest, and their heavily reinforced, bullet-eating shields were their ultimate protection in war. But yet they fancied the mutated Runner?
George, Mike and I reloaded our weapons. The Runner got back on all fours; it shook off the bullets like a dog would shake off water, snarled in George's direction and charged.
We opened fire, hitting the Runner multiple times. It was like shooting blanks; the Runner had built up a tolerance and absorbed the shots as they came, quicker than before and still headed for George.
George broke off from us, headed toward the bathroom door.
Mike and I split up; he went to the right and took cover behind a row of waiting chairs; I retreated behind the reception desk, lost for clues on how we were going to defeat the Runner and make it out the hospital without Sworn's soldiers opening fire once the damned, hell-bent Runner was defeated.
What was going on with the rest of our teams? Was Sworn already on to them too, but hadn't said anything? Were Pops, Frank and their team taking control of the barricade? Were Bane and his group taking any gun-fire out front, or were they still moving in stealth? Was Mac, Conrad and their group on the way to assist in Bane's gun fight, if any? Or are they headed to our rescue? Where was the rest of our group? What about Maria and Ann, Rebekah, and the families that were all waiting on us?
And then I looked at the wall in front of me. A fire emergency box with a fire axe, extinguisher, and water hose sat no more than ten feet in front of me. I couldn’t get to it, I was being Hawk-eyed by Sworn's company, and if they knew what I was thinking, they’d off me for sure. Could I create a diversion in order to get into the emergency box, grab the axe and chop at one of the Runner's main arteries? Maybe it would bleed out. If I could decapitate the son of a bitch, that would be even better.
The Runner charged in George's direction. It slid across the slick tiles, eager to seize hold of its aggressor, leaving blood strings of saliva behind it. Its tongue flapped with its speed, striving to get its grip on the tiles in order to corner George in the restroom.
I looked over to Mike as he was reloading his weapon. He slammed in the mag and looked at me. I tilted my head up, advising him that I was alright, and he swirled his index finger in a circle and pointed toward the restroom. I was never in the military, but I took his gesture as he wanted me to circle around and then head in the restroom behind the Runner; I seen the finger spin on the tube all the time.
The Runner burst through the restroom door, taking it off the hinges and bringing down some of the wall with it. I followed the Runner (with my eyes) into the restroom, and then looked back in Mike's direction.
Mike was gone.
I scanned the area.
Sworn's commissioned musketeers were still planted, solidified in their position. Over by the plastic curtain, sectioning the corridor and waiting room area was a lone fire extinguisher, looking over to where Sworn once stood was another, not too far from the soldiers’ positions. I thought, if I could shoot the extinguishers, it would cause a cloud of smoke. Then I could get the time to kill the Runner and make a break for it right thru the soldiers’ human barricade… and kill Sworn on my way out.
Mike showed up at my side. George screamed from inside the restroom and his Ak-47 fired about fifteen consecutive shots.
Then, the Runner unleashed its roar.
"We got to save him!" Mike exclaimed as he ran toward the restroom.
"Mike!" I screeched as he bolted. My only thought at the time was to assist my brother at any and all costs, and that if George was still alive; we would have only a short period of time to save him before the Runner was back on its feet and ready to strike again.
Mike made it to where the restroom door once opened and shut, water began to travel out. George came out with the flow clenching his teeth together; he slid on his back, scooting across the wet tiles, desperate in his attempt to elude the Runner.
"You bit?" Mike questioned George.
"Hell no… Thanks God," George reported in pain. "It fell over me and crushed some bone in my leg. It's down."
Mike grabbed George by the arm. I grabbed George's other arm, and we both dragged him back to the reception desk.
ARRGGGHHH!
The Runner was up.
Sworn’s men cheered.
You could have gotten an earful of the mutation’s chaotic and desperate scramble to find its way out of the restroom. You could hear the breaking sounds of porcelain stools and the wooden doors that separated them. More water poured out of the entry way, and with all else silent by that time, you could make out the Runner stomping around in the water.
Mike was quiet, staring at the water flow its way toward the other end of the waiting room.
I looked at George; he was leaking blood from a minor bruise above his right eye; his left foot was twisted and bloody. He scrambled, digging in his pockets to retrieve the remaining shells for his Ak-47 assault rifle.
"We can create a diversion by shooting the fire extinguishers and escape through the cloud of smoke." I offered my ingenious advice in a low tone.
Mike quickly inserted, "Sworn's men have to be protected by the infected blood. Walking around in it doesn’t seem to work with this thing. Listen… I'm going to lure the Runner toward the other end of the room, near the opening in the wall and try something to get us out of here. I need you two to buy me some time while I get in position."
I asked, "What are you going to do?"
"Fight it." he responded.
"We need a way out of here." George dug out through his drying lips.
"You see the claws on that thing!" I stressed. "No way!"
&
nbsp; "Man up, D. When I say so, you two be ready to get to high ground. Create the screen as soon as you're both in position." Mike finished.
Sworn's men cheered when the Runner finally appeared from the restroom.
Mike fired three shots into its torso then ran to the far end of the room frantically yelling, "Over here! Come on goddamn you!"
The Runner fell for it. It approached Mike and stood just five feet away, waiting for him to make a move.
Mike was positioned by the hole in the wall. He raised his battle rifle and fired twice at the Runner's upper body, hitting its chest.
The Runner charged Mike. Mike dodged its ramming attack.
The Runner barged the basketball sized hole, enlarging it, leaving the hole subject to breaking through to the other side with just one more thud.
The water continued to travel across the perimeter of the waiting room.
Mike motivated in the area of the unfinished painting job, it looked like the room was under slight renovations. He shot the Runner three more times.
The Runner charged at Mike again. This time it furiously swung at Mike’s head, but missed, only to knock loose one of the pipes; it turned out to be a water main. Water began to shoot up into the air, raining down on the Runner and creating an even more slippery surface, making it more challenging to apprehend its hunt.
Mike moved along, close to the edge of the walls. The noise the water made hitting the surface was enough to distract the Runner from Mike’s whereabouts and move on to the next part of his mission. The Runner rapidly shook its body to alleviate the water from its burgundy coat of hair, and then it let out a war cry that should have echoed through the entire hospital.
The soldiers discontinued their cheers.
George and I patently waited for Mike's signal.
The water began to make its way across all the waiting room tiles.
I grabbed the two rubber trash cans, dumped out the garbage, flattened it as much as I could and helped George on top of one.
"What are we doing?" George asked.
"I think he's going to electrocute it." I responded.
George held onto his AK and said, "I'm going to try standing up. I think he might be making an escape route through the wall. Maybe the water is to slow the Runner down, and the extinguishers are for the diversion."
"Well let's just be ready."
The Runner continued to roar, turning in every direction and swinging uncontrollably. Mike shot it again, then moved toward the other side of the room.
The Runner went toward Mike again.
I grabbed my .40 out the holster, standing on a rubber trash can myself, waiting for Mike's signal.
Mike was located at the smaller pipe fixtures awaiting the Runner.
I looked around to the soldiers and noticed they were in the water, their shields planted right in it.
Mike shot at the Runner again. The Runner charged.
Sworn’s men cheered, and began banging on their shields with their guns, I felt like Russell Crowe when he was fighting till the death in the movie, Gladiator.
The Runner stayed focused on Mike.
Mike dodged its attack once more. The Runner left another crater sized dent in the wall.
Mike scrambled, positioning himself into another corner with visible pipes. He continued to reverse sides, watching the clumsy Runner fall for the same trick, until it wildly swung at his head, missed, and opened up some pipes that held electric cables, sending sparks flying across the room.
Sworn’s men silenced their racket.
Mike shot at the Runner's upper body seven times and shouted, "Now," before directing his fire toward the ceiling. He was aiming at the emergency sprinklers.
George popped the fire extinguisher by the troops nearest the corridor, and I directed my fire at the extinguisher toward the other troops. The guts of the extinguisher cluttered the atmosphere.
George and I took cover behind the desk. The fire alarm blared, and water showered out of the emergency sprinkler system.
BLAAAAT! BLAAT! BLAAAAAT! BLAAATT! BLLAT!
The enemy’s erratic shooting erupted, and faded just as quick. There was an exploding sound, and the entire area went dark, followed by an array of sizzling sounds, strobe light effecting flashes and popping noises.
Then, the heavy shields and artillery held by Sworn's men hit the watery tiles with their wielders.
The next few seconds were pure silence. The backup generators kicked in and the shoot-out beams of the emergency lights gleamed over the electrical current's victims, trounced about the wet floor where they once erringly towered side by side, confident of our surrender; or our horrific defeat by the claws of their imbecilic creation.
Mike was standing on top a row of waiting chairs when the smoke cleared, both arms raised in victory under the sprinklers rain. “Now that… was teamwork!” he yelled from his position.
"No shit!" I exclaimed about our subjugation. "That was awesome!" then looked to George.
George was slumped across the reception desk barely moving, blood leaking from under him.
"Mike!" I called over, "George is hit!" I grabbed George's wrist, felt his pulse and said, "Hang on bro... we're gonna get you outta here." in a panicking but assuring tone. We might have just met George, but he was brave, injured in battle, and fought for his life with two people he'd knew for only hours.
Mike made his way over to us. He took off his overcoat and wrapped it around George's wound and assisted me in carrying him out of the waiting room and into the unknown, behind the plastic curtain that separated us from the rest of our resistance... and the rest of Sworn's army!
We were inside a pearl white tent occupied with empty emergency medical beds and hospital equipment, carrying a wounded man in serious need of professional medical aid. George was shot in between his shoulder and collar bone, the bullet exited out of his shoulder blade. He was bleeding steady and his other war wounds weren’t helping us move any faster.
"I'll make it, won't I?" George wearily asked as we made our way to the end of the tent.
"Yeah you will. It’s nothing, man. Don’t stress it." Mike reassured him.
"Once we link back up with the girls, Maria will fix you up right nice, bro." I guaranteed.
"Not that far to go now." Mike said.
We all reloaded our weapons and prepared to step out into the unknown darkness that patiently awaited us.
CHAPTER XVII
We were on the North side of the hospital. It was cold and silent with the fetidness of the departed, and we were nearly fenced by the flames of necropolis. The dead bodies of soldiers, resistance fighters and Hazmat crews lay scattered across the hospital lawn and parking lot. Two of the three mobile transports were all flames and smoke; the third one had looked to have been urgently evacuated and left with the doors ajar and the engine still running. Two of the Knight XV's were parked close by, and the black Rock Raiders were occupied by dead soldiers that looked to have been slayed by the infected, or maybe one of Sworn's rouge, prized, collector edition mutations. Ahead of us was a light in the distance, glimmering from the checkpoint. Maybe it was a signal from Pops and Frank. Maybe they were dead and one of our antagonists had us in his sight instead.
We made an energetic effort to reach the Knight XV undetected, when a sudden wind turned into the low thumping sound of helicopter propellers emerging from the rear of the hospital almost undetectable; it was followed by gunfire. I began piecing together the events that unfolded before me, from the emergency broadcast until the second I recognized the stealth maneuvering aircraft fly overhead (headed east), the story Mike gave me about his run-in on the cargo ship, and the infected coming back from the dead in the form of cannibalistic humanoids diced with the canine family; preferably Major's Akita Inu family.
"That's Sworn!" Mike examined with his sights on the bird, shooting at it as it flew by.
I looked up surprised, "Is that a Blackhawk? Where's he going?" I questioned, firing at the
bird, thinking Mike already knew the answer.
"Yeah, it's a Blackhawk. But, I don't know where he's headed." Mike answered. "Maybe he’s on his way to get reinforcements."
George mumbled, "I'm not feeling so good," his lips chapped.
The chopper passed us. It increased speed and disappeared into the gaseous, smoke-encrusted night.
Mike opened the rear door to the truck and said, "Damn... they customized it." hopping inside, eagerly examining the mobile command center design like a kid who’d just been given permission to grab anything he wanted out of a candy store.
The urban tank seated five men on each side, plus a driver and shotgun rider. In the center-rear was four small LCD screens; one showed heat signatures, another night vision. The third was a radar screen, and the fourth was vehicle stats and ammunition gauge. Running across edges of the bullet proof, street legal truck was an attached string of heavy machine gun rounds leading into three customized and hidden, mounted heavy machine guns.
After we got George into the back of the urban tank, Mike scuffled through the fatigues of a bullet-riddled soldier in the passenger seat and confiscated his communicator and headset. He kicked the corpse out, hopped in the seat, and said, "If Sworn says anything we'll hear it." putting on the headset.
I hopped in the driver’s side.
A tyrannical number of shots fired from behind us.
I looked through the side view mirror. Volunteers of our resistance were running for their lives, headed in our direction. I soon recognized Bane and Mac, blasting away at their unseen targets, and only counted twelve of our men left other than them.
I leaped out of the truck and called out, "Over here!" rushing to the rear of our urban tank, positioning myself against the rear tire, eye in the scope.
"We're over here!" Mike echoed, posting up behind the rear tire on his side.
POP! POP! POP!
Mike let off three consecutive shots into the darkness; I didn't see what he was shooting at. Then from the rear of the hospital came a combination of Bleeders and Trackers, followed by the unforgettable cry of a Runner.
They Came With The Storm (The Effacing) Page 15