“What? I’m fine. What do you…?” Then his father’s voice reminded him. She means are you fixin’ to start laughing and biting on one of them. “Oh. The bite.”
“Yes. I’m sorry, Charlie, but I have to ask. Do you feel in the least bit… different?”
“Other than aching all over from being beat half to death, no. And thanks so much for the kind words of support.”
“I’m sorry, but we have to think about all the possibilities. What if we hand you another knife and you decide to start using it on us?”
“Jesus H, woman. Talk about a vote of confidence.” Charlie started to get angry. “Look, I’m bit. I get it. Hell, I get it a hell of a lot better than you do. But the real problem isn’t mine. I feel fine, and I know it. It’s you that has to decide whether or not you trust me enough to want me near you with a blade. ‘Cause if you think I’m going back out there unarmed, you’re the ones that’re fucking crazy.”
He stared at them for a moment, letting them think about that. Finally, Chris turned to Tabby. “He’s right. We either take him with us or leave him here. We might need him if things get rough up there again. And we can’t expect him to go with us unarmed. Bottom line, we need to trust him.”
Tabby nodded, then turned to face Charlie. She drew the knife he had given her earlier and handed it back to him, hilt first. “Sorry.”
He shoved the knife into his belt. “Yeah, me too.”
* * *
They left after a few quick words of explanation to the group. Felicia was as clingy as ever, but Charlie didn’t have time to worry about that. He, Tabby, and Chris walked back to the elevator, and Chris pulled the pass key out of his shirt pocket and slid it into the slot to call the elevator below decks again. The three of them looked at each other in silence as they waited for the doors to open. A chime announced the arrival of the elevator and the doors whisked open. Chris stepped inside and held the doors open while Tabby and Charlie both hesitated. “You guys coming?”
Charlie swallowed and stepped inside, Tabby right behind him. Charlie took a deep breath. “Yeah, let’s get it over with.”
Chris pressed the button for Deck Twelve and downward pressure told Charlie they were moving up. They all gripped their weapons tighter as the elevator slowed. Another chime announced their arrival, and the doors slid open into hell.
The sound of dozens of hoarse hyenas invaded the elevator as hands reached through, grabbing at the three of them. Charlie jumped back to avoid the first grasping hands, and Tabby screamed as a young boy in the tattered remains of his pajama bottoms threw himself at her. Charlie stabbed at a man who stepped into the elevator and attacked. He rammed the knife into the man’s chest and kicked him back out of the elevator. He turned to pull the boy off of Tabby, and sliced the giggling boy’s throat as he pushed him back out, as well. Three others rushed forward as, out of the corner of his eye, Charlie saw several hands latch onto Chris and begin pulling him out of the elevator.
“Charlie!” Chris’s voice was panicked as he tried to fight off his attackers. Charlie reached toward him but another man jumped inside. Tabby stepped forward to help Charlie and the two of them quickly dispatched him. He pushed forward to where Chris now desperately held on to the doorway of the elevator as three men beat and pulled at him. His pleading eyes begged for help as his fingers began to lose their purchase on the door.
Charlie stabbed one of Chris’s attackers, but another immediately took his place. Charlie looked past Chris into the corridor and saw dozens more of the crazies pushing forward. He immediately realized they didn’t have a chance. He stabbed at another of the attackers, grabbing at Chris’s arm, trying to pull him back into the elevator, but all he succeeded in doing was loosening the man’s hold on the door. Chris screamed as one of the attackers leaned in and bit his ear.
You ain’t gonna save him, boy. Best look out for yourself.
Charlie stabbed another crazy, and from the corner of his eye saw Tabby facing the other way, fighting off two others. He heaved a disheveled old woman out of his way, pushing closer to Chris. He leaned in to where Chris could hear him. “I’m sorry, man.”
Chris looked confused as Charlie reached into the young man’s pocket, and took his keycards. He shoved the card with the blue stripe into the slot and pressed the door close button. Chris’s hands were in the way, but Charlie quickly peeled the fingers away. With a scream, Chris fell back into the horde and the doors began to slide closed.
“No!” Tabby started to move forward, but Charlie yanked her back.
“It’s too late.”
The doors closed on Chris’s screams and Charlie pressed the button to take them back below decks.
Chapter 73
Erica Chapman
Someone’s Using Guns
“This is absolutely ridiculous!” Matt said. “Three hours.” He looked at Erica, as if daring her to deny it. “Three freakin' hours and we’re barely out of Houston. And we’re still not on the road we need to be on!” He slowed yet again to drive past another wrecked car in the middle of the lane.
Erica winced as she noticed the body of a young woman behind the steering wheel.
“See anything?”
Matt’s question startled her out of her funk and she looked up and down the frontage road that ran beside the freeway. “A few stragglers headed this way, but they’re a block away.”
Matt grunted and sped up a bit, leaving the chucklers behind them. Five minutes later, Matt harrumphed and slowed the SUV. “Well, there’s something you don’t see every day.” He pulled up beside a man in a gas mask jogging in the emergency lane. As they pulled near, Matt rolled his window down. “Hey buddy, you need a ride?”
The man spun, and leapt toward the Xterra. Through the mask, Erica could see he was laughing hysterically. Matt hit the gas and they sped past the man and up the next overpass. Erica looked back at the lone chuckler as he chased after them. “I guess the mask didn’t help.” She continued to scan for chucklers on the feeder.
A few minutes later, Matt’s cursing pulled her attention back to the scene before them. A mass of twisted vehicles completely blocked the freeway ahead. There was no way to skirt around them this time. Erica scanned the frontage road.
“You’re gonna have to cut across the grass here, and get back on the feeder.”
Matt looked to where she pointed. “What’s the GPS say?”
She tapped the screen a few times, zooming the view out. She traced a crooked route on the screen. “Looks like another—”
The sound of gunfire interrupted her. Matt slammed on the brakes and looked around frantically. “Where’s that coming from?”
“I think it’s on the other side of that wreckage.”
Matt rolled his window back down and stuck his head out. After a quick moment, he pulled back into the cab and nodded. “You’re right.” He looked at her, still not letting off the brake. “What do you think?”
Before she could answer, the ground shook, and was almost immediately followed by the sound of an explosion. Seconds later, thick, black, smoke rose into the air ahead of them. The staccato chatter of more gunfire cut through the air.
Matt looked at her. “This is your rodeo. What do you want to do?”
Erica looked back and saw the chuckler in the gas mask was getting close again. She didn’t hesitate. “I haven’t seen a single chuckler using anything more than a club or a torch. If someone’s using guns, I think we need to see if we can help them.”
He nodded. “That’s what I was thinking, too.” He cut the wheel and quickly pulled out across the grass and onto the feeder road, once more leaving gas mask behind. They drove toward the sounds of gunfire.
Chapter 74
Linton Bowers
Cavalry
Linton looked behind him as he ran. He really didn’t need to. The constant sound of laughter told him the mob was still behind him. But it looked like he and Michelle were at least putting some distance between them. He looked
forward again to see Michelle had stopped.
“What are you doing?” he panted. “No time to stop.”
She looked right, then left. Linton caught up with her and saw what had stopped her. Ahead of them was a solid wall of twisted and charred vehicles. A fuel tanker bearing the logo of a multi-national oil company lay on its side, tangled amidst several cars and trucks, apparently having wrecked into them in the night. It was just over the top of the overpass, so there was no going over the side unless they wanted to shatter their legs on the road below. And there was a gap between the northbound and southbound lanes that was simply too large for them to contemplate jumping across.
“Linton?”
“Start climbing!”
“What?”
“Climb over! I’ll cover you. When you get up, you turn and cover me while I climb.”
“But I—”
“There’s no time. Go!”
Linton turned and hefted his rifle, sighting on the first of the crowd. Us or them. He began firing into the leading line as they ran toward him. They were still about two hundred yards away, and staggering as much as running, but there were so many of them that he couldn’t miss. He pulled the trigger as quickly as he could sight in on a target and was through his first magazine in a matter of seconds. Hand shaking, he dropped the spent magazine in one pocket with a shaking hand. “Just like in the drills,” he chided himself. He slammed another magazine into the receiver and was firing again in less than three seconds.
The report of Michelle’s rifle sounded from over his head, and she shouted at him. “Come on, Lint!”
He swung his rifle over his back, letting it hang behind him as he scrambled up the hood of the first car in the pileup, making sure not to cross his wife’s line of fire. He slipped for a heart-stopping second as he stepped onto the roof of the next car, then reached the tanker truck. Laying on its side, the truck’s underbelly was in front of him, and there were ample handholds. He jumped from the roof of the pickup to one of the eighteen wheels and clambered up atop the overturned wreck. Once he was in place, he tapped Michelle on the shoulder. “Get down the other side and keep running. Let me know when you’re down, and I’ll be right behind you.”
To her credit, she didn’t try to argue this time. She scrambled down the other side of the wreckage and yelled. “I’m clear!”
Linton scrambled down the side of the truck, and as he hit the ground, he saw his wife standing quite some distance away digging in her pack. “What are you doing?”
She pulled out a road flare and he saw the thin stream of liquid trickling down the freeway. Fearing that she might be planning what it looked like she was planning, he looked along the stream, tracing it back to where it leaked out of the fuel truck from a hatch in the top—the top that was now on the side of the truck. “Oh shit!”
He sprinted to get as much distance between himself and the explosion in waiting. Once he drew close to Michelle, she dropped the flare into the stream of fuel and the two of them ran down the back side of the overpass. Once they reached the point where the bridge turned into embankment, they climbed over the concrete side barrier and onto the grass on the other side.
Linton ducked behind the concrete barrier beside his wife, both of them panting from the run. He peeked back over, watching as the leading edge of the mob jumped down from the tanker, a huge crowd coming into sight behind them as they scaled the side of the truck. He looked to the flaming trail as it progressed relentlessly toward its goal. It happened much slower than the movies had always shown, but as he watched, the flames licked up the side of the tanker and finally reached the hatch on the top of the truck. There was a second’s pause, and Linton imagined the nearly instantaneous chain reaction that must have gone on inside the tank as the flames expanded inside it until there was no longer any room for further expansion. The pressure would likely build up within the confines of the metal cylinder until the walls of the tank were ripped apart, freeing the burning fuel in a massive fireball.
Whether the process was inevitable, or they simply got lucky, the truck went up in an explosion that he could feel from more than a football field length away. But there were still plenty of the mob that had already made it past the truck, and they were still coming after them. “Come on, babe. We gotta go.”
Linton and Michelle jogged down the embankment to the level ground of the feeder road. As they hit the street, Linton looked back to find several of their pursuers stumbling over the concrete barrier, still chasing after Michelle and him with the single-mindedness of insects. He turned and fired several rounds into them then continued down the road.
The other side of the feeder hosted a neighborhood, and Linton recalled the insanity of his own subdivision yesterday. Was it really only yesterday? He quickly scanned the area for anyone coming out of the houses. He ran for the sidewalk.
Beside him, Michelle looked over her shoulder, slowed, and while jogging backward, opened fire as well. After three shots, she stumbled and went down with a shout. Her rifle went flying from her grasp.
“You okay?”
“Fine.” She was already crawling after her weapon. Linton immediately turned, dropped to one knee and began firing again. He was momentarily surprised at how few of the crazies still pursued them. The explosion had killed or stopped most of them, and there were only ten or fifteen still coming.
How many rounds do I have? Enough to take them all before they get to us?
He heard Michelle shout at him. “Ready!”
“Take a knee and start shooting the ones on the right. I’ll shoot from the left, and we’ll meet in the middle.”
Michelle’s rifle barked beside him. Between the two of them, they took out the last of their pursuers in less than a minute. Linton turned to make sure they hadn’t attracted any unwanted attention, but there was still no movement in any of the surrounding buildings. “Let’s get moving before any more of them—”
“Lint?”
“What?” Michelle was looking past him. He dropped back to his knee and swung his rifle up, thinking that another crowd was coming at them. Instead, he saw a lemon-yellow SUV driving toward them. “Stay behind me, and keep your rifle ready if things go bad.”
“Lint?”
“What?” He looked at her over his shoulder, determined to keep himself between the coming strangers and his wife. The look on her face told him she was irritated. “What?” he repeated.
“You’re being ridiculous. I’m not helpless, and they aren’t crazy. The crazy ones can’t drive, remember?”
There was no chance to argue. The SUV pulled up in the street away from them, and the front doors opened. A man and a woman stepped out, weapons drawn, but pointed down and away. The man looked around at the bodies scattered in the street before turning his attention to them.
“We were going to see if you folks needed any help,” he said. “But I can see you already have things under control.”
The woman wasn’t quite as glib. “Are you all right?” Linton could see the tension in her gun hand as she asked. He opened his mouth to answer, but Michelle beat him to the punch.
“We’re tired, depressed as hell, and scared. But we’re not crazy, if that’s what you’re asking.”
The man nodded. “We can see that. Far as we can tell, chucklers can’t use guns.”
“Chucklers?” Linton got back to his feet.
The woman nodded. “It’s what they were calling them on the news the other night.”
They all stood in silence for a moment before the woman put her pistol in its holster and stepped forward, hand extended. “I’m Erica.”
Michelle stepped up and shook her hand, as Matt walked around the SUV and shook with Linton. Once the greetings were done, Erica cocked her head at Michelle. “I don’t suppose you guys have a cell phone I could borrow?”
Chapter 75
Charles Griffe
Running Out Of Time
The loss of Chris hit the group hard, and the news
that the ship was going to crash made things even worse. He turned back to the group. “Look, Chris said we only had until about four thirty, or maybe five o’clock. That just gives us…” he looked at his watch, “just about an hour to get to a lifeboat. We need to get moving if we’re going to make it.”
“How are we supposed to get there if those things are waiting outside the elevators?” Celina asked the question that was on everyone’s mind.
“We’re gonna have to go back to using the emergency stairwell.”
Some of them muttered, but Charlie raised his hands. “Look, the lifeboats are on Deck Six. We’re on Deck Two. That’s just four flights of stairs. And we have an hour to make it. We can do it, but we have to be careful and get moving.”
They muttered for a bit, but eventually acquiesced. As they gathered themselves, Charlie saw that Tabby kept watching him as if she wanted to say something. He pulled her aside. “Something wrong?”
“How’d you get his keys?”
“What?”
“In the elevator. How’d you get Chris’s keycards?”
His heart leapt. Had she seen? No, she’d been busy fighting off her own attackers.
“He must have known he was done for. He slipped the key to me just before he let go of the doorway.”
She kept looking at him like she didn’t know whether or not to believe him, but she didn’t say anything more. Still, he could see the distrust in her eyes. She’s gonna be a problem, boy. You might have to do something about her. But Charlie pushed his father back into a quiet corner of his mind. There was no time to worry about her at the moment.
They gathered again at the door to the emergency stairwell. “Everybody ready?” Charlie scanned the faces around him. Nervous determination showed in most faces, but they all nodded. He pulled the door open and peered into the stairwell. With the power back on, there was no more of the frightening darkness he had dealt with for the first few days. He turned back to the group and put his finger to his lips, then stepped through the door and listened. Nothing.
Chucklers: Laughter is Contagious Page 35