Danielle could see the defeated slump of his torso, and then the instinctive recoil of his neck and shoulders. But the retreat was only momentary. His body quickly became a pillar, the posture of resignation, with no intention of running.
“No!” Danielle screamed. “Keep going!”
But the crab was only steps away now; running wouldn’t make a difference.
“No!”
Danielle said the word in a moaning plea, and then tears began falling in large, silent drops onto her cheeks.
The despair lasted only a moment, however, as it was quickly replaced by a surge of anger that entered her chest like the burn of turpentine. She stiffened her torso now, preparing to turn back to the pack behind her and start emptying the Glock’s magazine into as many crabs as she could.
But before she could make the pivot, she heard three loud pops explode above her head, and in the distance, within an arm’s reach of Scott Jenkins, the pursuing ghost dropped from the landscape and into the darkness of the field.
Danielle blinked several times and then wiped frantically at her eyes to clear the blur of tears that had accumulated, and when she removed her hands, the vision of Scott standing alone, unscathed, remained. He was in the exact same place on the hill, and the chasing crab was now a dead lump at his feet.
Danielle had no idea what had just occurred, and certainly Scott didn’t either, but both seemed to understand the danger of examining the mouth of a gift horse.
“Go!” Danielle called instinctively, and with the command, Scott turned and continued running down the hill toward the river.
Danielle turned back to the lab now for answers, figuring it was Dominic who had somehow secured a rifle and taken out the crab on the hill. But Dominic stood empty-handed and continued facing the surrounding group of crabs, which seemed to have retreated slightly but otherwise stood their ground. The rattling door had also become suddenly still.
Danielle continued scanning the grounds for an explanation, still confused by what had just occurred, and then finally Dominic pressed an elbow into her side and nodded upward.
Danielle followed the motion with her eyes, and there, on the roof, with a rifle slung across his shoulder, was James.
5.
James turned the rifle on the horde now and popped off another round. Then another. And within seconds, before the monsters could process that there was danger in their environs, four or five crabs were lying dead on the ground.
But they sensed the threat quickly, and the moment they did, they scattered like moths, with most of the monsters heading the way of the bridge, the direction in which they were currently facing, while others (the smarter ones, perhaps) hesitated for a beat and then turned and retreated, following the same path of the lab escapees, abandoning the footprint of the military complex and escaping themselves into the world of the living.
A third group, however, consisting of a half dozen or so of the corrupted, took neither course of escape, and instead headed directly toward Dominic, Michael and Danielle.
Danielle fired her weapon and hit one of the middle crabs in the shoulder, stopping it cold in its path, and then finished it off with a second shot, striking it in the face this time, exploding its nose and cheeks like a tomato.
“Dominic!” It was James, calling from the roof.
Dominic looked up to see the young sniper pull a handgun from his waistband. James held the weapon high, displaying it for verification, and then he threw it down like he was tossing a beanbag. It wasn’t a lesson in gun safety, Danielle thought, that was for sure, but Dominic caught the pistol softly, cradling it into his palms before engaging his fingers and snapping off several rounds in the direction of the zombie assailants.
Three more of the attacking group fell to the ground like fleshy bowling pins, leaving only two of the crabs on their feet now, both of which had slowed their pace to a lingering gait, seeming to re-consider their aggression.
But it was too late for them also. In seconds, James squeezed off several more shots from the rifle, maximizing his perched position atop the roof, and the final pair of freaks fell dead in the dirt.
The lot in front of the lab was clear now—of both crabs and soldiers—but Danielle knew her group’s work was far from done. There was an assembly of crabs heading toward the river, and though they had started in the direction of the bridge, Danielle could see that they had now changed course and were headed in the direction of Scott. He would never outrun them; she and Dominic and Michael—and now James—were his only hope.
As if reading Danielle’s mind, Dominic was already staring down the hill to the dark water, his face sullen. “They’re too far ahead. We’ll never catch up to them in time.”
“Well, we’re going to try,” Danielle replied. “He’s a smart guy, and he seems to know the area. He’ll be able to...hide. He’ll hide until we find him.”
“Hide where? There are no buildings out here. And there certainly aren’t any between here and that kayak place.”
“We’re going to try, Dominic!” Danielle snapped, and then she immediately glanced to Michael who wore a look of resolve on his face, supporting her notion. He nodded at Danielle.
“Wait a minute,” Dominic said.
Danielle shook her head, frustrated. “What? We have to go.”
Dominic smiled. “James!”
Danielle turned to the roof and looked up to the spot where James had been standing only a minute ago. He was gone.
But in what was no more than ten seconds, a blaze of yellow light lit up the trees to the left of the lab and then turned and shone on the group of three standing in the middle of the lot, exposing them like escaped convicts. All around them was a sea of dead monsters.
A few seconds later, the jeep pulled up beside the huddle of three and stopped, James in the driver’s seat, hands gripped around the wheel as if he were trying to crush it.
“Put it in park,” Dominic ordered. “I’m driving. You’re riding shotgun.”
James shifted the jeep to park as instructed and moved right, seemingly relieved by the command.
“Really, Dominic?” Danielle asked, guiding Michael into the back and hopping in after him. “After what he just did, you still don’t trust him? I think he’s earned your forgiveness.”
Dominic shot Danielle a brief look of puzzlement before shifting the jeep to drive and pulling off toward the river. “I trust him fine, my dear, more than ever. It’s just he looked a little nervous there in the cockpit.” He looked at James. “Is that right, Annie Oakley?”
James nodded.
“And besides, he can’t shoot and drive at the same time, and we need someone who can take these fuckers out on the move.”
6.
Dominic drove the jeep toward the river with abandon, bounding and bouncing down the hillside like a rally car racer, nearly flipping the vehicle on one occasion, which finally prompted an admonishment from Danielle.
“Killing us before we find him isn’t going to help anybody.”
But Dominic’s recklessness settled immediately when he reached the bottom of the hill, at which point he downshifted the vehicle to a crawl and began cruising slowly along the shore of the river, keeping as close to the water as possible without risking getting stuck somewhere along the muddy bank.
James unbuckled his seatbelt and pushed himself up to the back of the seat so that he was nearly standing. He held the rifle to his eye as he swiveled his head slowly, searching.
They continued deliberately along the firm ground of the bank, barely moving at ten miles an hour, and though Danielle wanted to encourage a bit more urgency to the drive, she knew if they went too fast they stood the risk of missing Scott cowering somewhere in the dark.
When several minutes passed, however, with still no sign of the man Danielle had vowed to rescue, the seeds of panic began to grow inside her belly.
“Where is he?” Michael asked rhetorically, as if verbalizing Danielle’s unease.
Danielle felt the instinct to answer, to re-assure the boy that his father was safe, but she stayed quiet, knowing that only finding Scott Jenkins would satisfy as an answer.
“Anything?” Dominic asked, glancing at James.
James shook his head, keeping the gun poised.
The empty fields and foliage displayed by the jeep’s headlights were the only thing visible now; otherwise, the landscape surrounding them was a blanket of black ink, and a palpable hopelessness began to grow inside the vehicle.
But within a half mile, the thick grass and foliage turned to a wide path of short weeds, and then a gravel lot, not unlike the one in front of the lab.
Dominic slowed the jeep even further, and soon the headlights lit upon the beginning of a dark wooden walkway lined with low railings on either side.
“Stop here,” Danielle barked. “This is the place. It’s not as far as I thought.”
“This is what place?” James asked.
“Pull up a little more.”
Dominic inched the jeep along a few more feet until the beams of the jeep illuminated the door of a small wooden structure which extended out onto stilts over the river. Above the door was a sign that read The Maripo Adventure Company.
“He’s here,” Danielle announced. “He’s gotta be.”
“I sure hope that’s not true.”
It was James again, and before Danielle could question his meaning, a spark of terror flushed her as she spotted a bobbing of white in both windows that fronted the store, entering and receding from the panes like tiny moons quickly fading in and out of the night sky.
They were crabs, of course, there was no question on that, and they were already inside the shop where Danielle had told Scott to meet them.
“Shit!” Dominic grumbled.
“We have to go find him!” Danielle cried. “I told him to—”
“Wait!” James ordered. “Listen.”
Danielle began to protest, and then to ignore, but as she began to exit the jeep and head toward the kayak shop, she heard the noise James had just referenced.
It was the familiar sound of ghosts moving in the night, crowding and hording like raccoons scuffling in a dumpster. It was a sound Danielle knew well by now, though on this occasion the noise seemed magnified somehow, as if the absolute darkness was acting as an amplifier.
The ghosts were still several yards away, not visible in the range of the headlights, but they were certainly close enough to be upon the jeep in a matter of seconds if they chose to attack.
Danielle pictured the monsters grouped together in their tight huddle of re-animated corpses, looking up at them from just outside the perimeter of light as they tore apart some unfortunate deer or dog or disoriented drifter.
Or Scott Jenkins.
It was the most likely answer, of course, and the image of his slaughter brought a wave of sickness over Danielle.
But Danielle was quickly snapped back to the moment when Dominic turned off the headlights.
“Why did you do that? They already know we’re here. The only difference now is that we can’t see.”
“I can see,” James said, his eye still pressed tightly to the rifle sight. He was using the night vision of the scope to view what Danielle and the others could not. “There’s a group just to our left. They look like they’re...feeding.”
Danielle felt the prickle of tears again and quickly wiped them away.
“There are probably four of them there. And maybe another three by the shop. They’re going in and out of the kayak place. It’s like they’re looking for something?”
“No,” Michael whimpered.
Danielle took a breath, buoyed with hope. If they were looking for something, there was a chance it was for Scott, which meant he might still be alive. “What else? Do you see any sign of Scott?”
James shook his head. “No, but I obviously can’t see inside the place.” He paused, and then, “Oh, shit. Shit! They’re coming, Dominic! They’re coming!”
Dominic flicked the headlights on again, and for an instant, only the empty storefront occupied their line of sight.
But that quickly changed. From the left corner of the jeep’s headlight range, the first of the crabs from the feeding group entered the view, its face almost a complete mask of red. A second later, the remaining feeders became
visible, sprinting, and they were soon joined by the three searchers from the boating store.
And they were coming fast. Before Danielle could blink, the closest crab was less ten yards away.
James fired the first round, immediately killing the lead one on the left. But the crabs were coming from all directions now, with some of them weaving erratically, serpentine and staggered, while others took a more direct route to the jeep, seeming to sacrifice themselves like ants in a colony.
“Drive, Dominic!” Danielle yelled, and without hesitation, Dominic shifted the car into gear and sped forward, slamming into the two crabs that had come at the jeep from point blank range. The impact was severe, damaging the crabs badly and possibly killing them; but the force also catapulted James over the windshield frame of the jeep and into the grass, the rifle sailing somewhere into the darkness.
“I meant in reverse! Jesus!” And then, “James! James, are you okay?”
James stood slowly, seemingly uninjured, but then he immediately turned and began to run as three of the attacking ghosts closed in on him, their red mouths wide and gnashing.
Within seconds, James and the crabs were all outside the glow of the headlights, and Danielle could now hear only the sound of running footsteps.
“Look out!” Dominic called.
Danielle turned to see two crabs directly beside her, their hands groping forward like crazed prisoners begging for help through iron bars. Instinctively, she recoiled into Michael who was sitting on the other side of the jeep, and then she steadied the pistol on her attackers. She fired off the remaining four rounds in the gun, making direct hits with the first two shots, and quickly lamenting the waste of the two superfluous bullets.
Danielle’s eyes were wide, but her vision was blurry from shuddering, and she took several hyper breaths as she stared at the now open space in front of her, expecting more of the monsters to appear at any moment.
Trembling, she asked, “Are there any others?”
“Besides the ones after James, I don’t think so, but I lost count.”
Danielle looked at Michael for a more definitive answer, but he only shrugged and shook his head, his face sheened with horror.
“Okay, assume there are then. I’ll go for James.”
“I’ll go,” Dominic said. “I’m the one—”
“Go find Scott. Take the jeep right up to the building. But be careful. There could be more inside. I saw...” Danielle broke off her instruction and stood in the back of the jeep, squinting as she leaned forward and stared down to the river. The dark water now had a soft patina of moonlight across it, giving it just a glint of visibility. “Look!”
Dominic and Michael followed Danielle’s finger as a dark shadow moved slowly across the water. It was black and formless, moving with insouciance, like a boat on the River Styx.
The three watched the movement in silence, in horror, and when it began to turn inward and approach the shore, Danielle expected it to suddenly transform, to grow and rise from the water like some mythical beast from a Norwegian folk tale.
“Hey!”
The call came from the water, impotent and desperate.
“I’m down here!”
The figure on the water was still just a vague silhouette, but Danielle now knew it was a boat. A kayak. And that Scott Jenkins was inside.
“Dad!” Michael called.
“Go, Dominic. Go get him. I’ll meet you upriver. James couldn’t have gotten too far, so don’t leave me here.”
“I’ll never leave you again, Danielle, so if you don’t show, I guess we’ll meet again somewhere in Paradise.”
Danielle felt
a grin begin to form, but her face wouldn’t allow it. Instead, she simply replied, “I’ll show.”
Dominic nodded, and with that, Danielle hopped from the jeep and quickly located James’ rifle. She picked it up in stride and then turned to begin the chase.
7.
Danielle was behind the two crabs in seconds, and the moment she saw them, she unleashed a shout that was some mixture of duck call and Apache war cry, an attempt to turn their attention from James to her.
She hadn’t seen James yet, and she took that as a good sign. If these crabs were the two that had given chase after the crash, which she assumed they were, it meant James had managed to evade them thus far.
Hearing the cry, the crabs turned like cobras, as if their necks had been spring-loaded, and they were now facing Danielle. Then, with perhaps a single beat of hesitation, they attacked, rushing her like rottweilers in a dog pit.
Danielle positioned the rifle on her shoulder and fired of two rounds—pop! pop!—quickly, methodically, sending the two crabs to the dark grass below. She checked her breathing, her heart rate, noting the steadiness of both, and, in that moment, she realized how much easier the chore of killing became each time she did it.
She stood in place and scanned the area now, searching for James. But, despite the emergence of the moon, the landscape in front of her was still a charcoal blanket, so Danielle continued forward, her head on a swivel as she searched for her companion.
As she strode, a new energy began to well inside her, fueling her lungs and powering her legs forward. And though she and her group were far from out of the woods, she had a sudden sense of accomplishment and triumph. Her mind was clear now, and the air suddenly smelled differently. Perhaps it was her proximity to the river, she considered, but on a deeper level, Danielle knew it was the smell of something else: Freedom.
Danielle felt the suppressed grin from earlier begin to form again, and this time she allowed it to materialize, spreading in a thin line just above her chin. It wasn’t humor or cheer that she felt—not exactly—but it was something, something real, the manifestation of the new vitality inside her perhaps.
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