by Jeannie Rae
The rioters at the carnival weren’t looting or destroying property, but were attacking one another instead. A group of three women, clawed at a man. Boots stared at the group for a moment. It appeared as though they were kissing him at first. Then he saw blood squirt into the air as they overtook the man to the ground. He scanned to the next group, a man and a woman, backing away from a crowd of six or seven—wearing filthy clothes, making Boots wonder where the group had come from. The man held out what looked like a metal pipe and swung it carelessly at the crowd. The woman crouched behind the man, when two others came up behind them. The first one grabbed the woman and went for her neck. The second went for her arm. The woman wailed in pain as they sunk their teeth into her. As the man turned back to her, the group before him closed in. His pipe sailed through the air as they took him to the ground.
Boots scanned to the next few scenes, grimacing teeth dove down upon the flesh of others. Some would bite down, continuing to bite deeper, while others would rip chunks of flesh from their victims, chewing on it wildly. Blood sprayed and splattered through the air and on the ground. Boots moved his eyes from group to group, person to person seeing the same thing occurring all over the carnival. He tried to think of why these people were doing this, what had happened to them to make the act like beasts?
Walker’s right we’ve got to go. Boots turned to leave, only to see that two men had circled behind him. Their eyes were black, as if they were wearing solid black contacts and were opened so wide that they appeared almost lidless. The skin on their faces looked loose and saggy, with their black veins visible beneath their pale skin. Drool and blood slowly streamed from the side and front of their open mouths. They made a noise with each breath, like an asthmatic in the midst of an attack. They were both shuffling their feet slowly, closer to Boots. Then, one of them let out a primal roar that echoed throughout the carnival. Startled at the volume of the roar, Boots began to hear more roars and howls coming from behind him. He turned his head to see that some of the carnival attackers were now running full speed toward him.
Boots dodged around the two that shuffled before him and raced back to the truck. There were too many for him to shoot. Quickly gaining speed, as he rounded the corner to the truck, he looked over his shoulder. The gang of flesh-eaters were only a few feet behind him. Leaning on the hood of the truck, Walker fiddled with his phone, as Boots ran up.
“In the truck now!” Boots shouted.
“Huh?” Walker looked at Boots, confused.
“Now!” Boots screamed, opening the driver door.
“What’s up?” Walker asked following Boots into the truck.
“I, I don’t know,” Boots said starting the truck. “Roll up your window.”
“Man, tell me what happened,” Walker looked over at Boots.
As Boots put the truck into drive, a group of about eighteen rounded the corner and darted toward the truck.
“What the hell is that? Whoa, whoa!” Walker yelled as three of the men grabbed on to his open window frame. Thuds could be heard as others had slammed into the side of the truck as it pulled away.
Walker pushed the button to roll up his window, when a man reached inside and grabbed his tee shirt, ripping the collar. Walker released the window button, grabbing the man’s hand and shoving it off of him. It knocked him and another man off the window. Before Walker could pull his hand back inside, he felt a burning sensation, the last man hanging on had bitten off, a quarter-sized piece of flesh from his hand. Walker yanked his searing hand inside and finished rolling up his window. The third offender let go just before the window sealed.
“Son of a bitch! That guy bit me, man. I think he took a chunk. And they ripped my shirt! We need to go back and shoot those freaks,” Walker said shaking his hand. He began drawing in deep breaths, his face already looking pale. A piece about the size of a super-ball had been bitten off the outer-side of his palm. Blood hadn’t yet risen to the surface of the exposed tissue, but it would only be a few seconds before that would occur. “What was that all about?”
“I don’t know, but we’ve got to get back to Angora. There is a towel in the bag behind the seat. Wrap your hand up. Just breathe, it’s just a bite on the hand, don’t go passing out on me, Walker.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Kate welcomed the chill of the night’s air sweeping over her face. She usually felt free of all worldly attachments riding on the back of her father's motorcycle. She loved riding, but not tonight. While she normally rocked out to her favorite playlist, featuring Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds during a ride, her iPod rested in her pocket. She couldn’t bring herself to listen to music right now. Ordinarily, her troubles could be left in the dust while taking a ride. The things she'd seen tonight were like nothing she ever encountered in her fourteen years. She's seen horror movies and loves them. What happened tonight was no movie.
She remembered a time, a few years ago, before her mother had passed, a neighbor's cat had been hit by a car. She wanted to go over and see if she could help. Her mother made Kate go into the house while she went to check on the cat. When Kate protested, her mother told her, "Kate, there are some things that you cannot unsee." It didn't make sense to Kate at the time, but now, she thoroughly understood the message that her mother had given her.
She had seen more horrific things unfolding before her eyes at the carnival, than some people see in their entire life. She tried to be free on the motorcycle, but the events of the evening haunted her. She squeezed her arms tight around her father's ribs.
Most of the streets that they passed had shown no sign of the brutes that had ravaged the carnival. There were a few turns that they made onto disorderly streets. Kate could hear the commotion, but tried not to look. She felt that she'd seen enough of death and gore to last her a lifetime. Yet from when the mob began to cross the carnival, to the time they’d left, had only been about an hour. It felt like years to Kate.
On a quiet residential street, Kate looked up to see that they were traveling on a familiar road. She knew that they were headed home. She felt comforted at the thought of getting to the house and seeing her sister. As they rounded the next corner, she thought she saw something down the road, a shadow. She dismissed it, convincing herself that she imagined it, and reminded herself that they would be safely home soon.
Nearing the end of the darkened street, suddenly, a man leaped from the darkness into the road. Joe swerved to try to avoid striking the person, but could not avoid the collision. His front tire collided with the pedestrian's leg. Kate shuttered in shock at the sight. Joe lost control of the bike, causing it to zigzag erratically. As he slid his right leg off the back of the bike, Kate slid off with him, effortlessly like a backpack on his back. They stumbled as they dismounted, falling to the pavement. The bike wobbled back and forth before sliding on its side. Sparks danced on the street as the exhaust pipes scraped across the asphalt, until finally sliding to a stop about thirty feet away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Joe’s palms seared with pain as he lifted his head from the pavement. Unstrapping his helmet, he glanced at his scraped hands. Looking over his shoulder, he turned his attention to Kate.
“Are you alright sweetie?” Joe scrambled to his feet, making his way over to her.
“Yeah Dad, I'm good. You okay?”
“Uh-huh,” he looked around for the man they had hit. He’d seen the man's leg break when the motorcycle tire struck him.
Joe stood up and scanned his surroundings. The area seemed vastly deserted. There were few dimly lit street lamps on this road, a couple decent vehicles parked in driveways and on the street. Some of the houses were lighted, but most were darkened. To Joe, this seemed like an ordinary looking neighborhood. As he turned around, he found the man on his side, pulling himself with his hands across the pavement.
“Man, are you okay?” Joe said jogging toward the injured man.
As he approached the man, he could hear the man huffing and groaning.
The pedestrian in the street didn't answer or look up at Joe.
“Let me help you get out of the street,” Joe said as he moved closer.
The man looked up at Joe with his black eyes and chomped his teeth. Joe jumped back, examining the man in disbelief. He is one of them. One of the savages, like at the carnival. I can’t understand what’s happening. How could so many people be like this? What actually happened at the carnival? Did all this start there? Whatever is going on, I need to get Kate out of here right now, and then we’ll get to Roxy. Joe looked back at Kate, now walking toward him dusting off her pants.
“Stay back Kate,” Joe backed away from the man. He looked at his motorcycle down the street. Smoke began to drift up from the wreckage. He jogged toward the bike as Kate followed.
“Dad, is he like the others?” Kate swallowed hard.
Joe reached into his pocket and retrieved this cell phone, flipping it over to survey any damages from the crash. It looked unscathed to him with just one signal bar lighting up, then going away.
“Yeah, sweetie, just keep your eye on him, while I check out the bike. Why don’t you try calling your sister again?” He handed off the cell, before lifting the bike and inspecting it.
He quickly glanced back at the guy in the street. The man had changed the direction he scooted himself. He eyeballed Kate, while skidding himself a little closer with each grunt. From his metered pace, Joe figured it should take him five to ten minutes to make it to them at his current rate.
“Roxy’s cell is going straight to voicemail, like she has no signal or the phone’s off and I can’t get through to the house. All circuits are busy,” Kate said dryly, tucking the cell into her back pocket.
Joe pushed the start button on the Harley. Nothing. He reached down to a cable that had come disconnected. While he’d had the motorcycle for a few years now, he’d never maintenanced the bike himself. He expected that reconnecting the loose cable would get the bike started.
“Dad,” Kate whispered.
“Hang on kiddo,” Joe kept fiddling with the cable; he almost had it. Heat radiating off the scorching hot engine burned his hand as he strained to reconnect the cable.
“Dad,” Kate said louder than before.
“Just a second Kate,” he said abruptly.
Joe stopped. Looking up at her, he felt a little guilty for his tone. Only, it wasn't Kate that captured his stare. The man slowly made his way across the road, still about twenty feet away. It wasn't the man in the street that lured his attention either. Nine others shuffled in the street toward them. Joe stiffened up, assessing the group that—in no particular formation—advanced from the shadows. The cluster of savages hadn’t spotted Joe and Kate yet, but they shambled with purpose at a distance of thirty feet. Joe gradually placed the motorcycle on the ground.
“Kate, let’s go. Be quiet and we will jog in the shadows,” Joe whispered.
Just as they turned, the man in the street bellowed, his raspy voice echoing throughout the otherwise serene neighborhood. Suddenly, the nine behind began to run, grunting and flailing their arms about. The dinner bell had been sounded.
As Joe sprinted down the street with Kate clutching his hand, he heard something hit the pavement behind them. He turned back to see pieces of metal and plastic on the asphalt. It looked electronic in origin, but Joe had no time to think about it now. Adrenaline flooded their systems, as they raced into the night. But it seemed that the creatures behind were much faster, sprinting at an impossible speed. Their grunts and heavy breathing drew closer and closer. Knowing that the group would catch them any second now, Joe and his daughter ran for their lives.
The sound of rubber squealing and jamming gears overpowered the evil sounds of the feral beasts that followed. A truck burst out from behind the house on the next corner, its engine roared like thunder amidst a storm, peeling out, turning toward Joe and Kate. The high beam headlights blinded them for a moment, as they ran out of the path of the truck. Joe and Kate slowed, watching as the truck accelerated toward the group. The headlights bothered the savages, causing them to slow and throw their hands up to block the bright rays of light from their eyes. Gunfire erupted, the sound ripping through the night and echoing down the empty street. In only a few seconds, the savages were down on the pavement.
The reverse light on the truck glowed as it backed up to Joe and Kate’s position. A man, about ten to fifteen years Joe’s senior sat behind the steering wheel, with a younger woman beside him. A man in the truck’s bed, that looked barely legal, in a soot-covered firefighter uniform, leaned over with a look of concern. The three of them looked like a motley squad of rescuers.
“Is that your Harley down there?” The driver asked, leaning over the female passenger.
“Yeah…it was,” Joe said defeated.
“Then, I take it, you two need a ride?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Still beside the tree she sought for refuge, Roxy stood with Dave for a brief time, detailing the events of the evening involving her neighborhood and Ann. The full moon exposed itself from the frothy clouds it had been disguised behind. For the first time, Roxy took a proper look at the man before her in the moonlight. He stood at maybe, six foot-four. His muscles swelled through in his snug fitting gray tee shirt. He looked like a body builder or athlete. He donned blue jeans that sat relaxed on his waist, and hung loose the rest of the way down. His arms were blanketed in a variety of intricate tattoos that seemed to climb up under the sleeves of his tee. Short, black hair topped his head and graced the stubble on his chiseled face. His brown eyes tenderly scanned Roxy as she spoke.
“Don’t know about you, but we should probably get somewhere a little more secure. We’re in the wide open here. From the sound of it, your house isn’t an option and mine is toast. Literally, it’s on fire. Maybe we can go over and check out one of those warehouses back on Hells Canyon. I’m sure that they’ll have a phone, a radio or something, so we could get some news updates to find out exactly what’s going on. Unless you want to keep on your own,” Dave suggested as he began in the direction of the car that Roxy left behind.
Roxy felt some element of safety with this man she’d just met. It felt comforting to be with another normal person. Although it hadn’t been long since this all began, it felt like it had been days since she’d had a real encounter with normalcy. What he said made perfect sense. We should get inside somewhere safe and secure. It isn’t safe for us on the street, out in the open, and with no car. Ordinarily, this idea would be entirely out of the question. After the dangers she’d encountered this evening, the thought of getting inside and feeling secure, superseded all else. Even still, she felt nervous about breaking into a building—and with a stranger at that. He may have something entirely different on his mind. But what choice do I have?
“Well, that sounds great and all, but those warehouses are businesses. I’m pretty sure, they’re locked down tight, and some might even have alarms,” Roxy hurried to catch up with him, slinging her duffle over her shoulder and gripping her bat tighter than ever. His long strides combined with his speed-walk made it seem as if he were in a slow run. “Come on ladies.”
“True, but I think we may be able to get into one. We just have to find the right one,” he said as he picked up the pace.
“Why are we running?” She jogged behind him, her dogs trotting at her side.
“I have a bad feeling out here. I think we need to get inside somewhere, fast. Those things are swarming around the hospital, so it’s only a matter of time before they take the park,” he shouted over his shoulder.
As they jogged past Roxy’s car, Ann thrashed, while still trapped in the passenger seat of the car. She had broken the passenger window, her face bloodied, and still snarling. The ladies took notice, letting out muffled growls as they trailed Roxy.
Dave came to a stop at the sidewalk. He scanned the buildings across Hells Canyon. While being one of the lesser traveled roads in Port Steward, it seemed unusuall
y vacant tonight. The warehouses across the street were darkened, casting menacing shadows in the moonlight.
“There, the mechanic shop. That’s where we need to go,” he pointed to the smallest building within eye shot.
“That one? Are you sure?” Doubt resonated in her voice.
“Trust me. It’s small enough that we can easily secure all the exits. We don’t want any of those things getting in while we’re there. Besides, it’s a mechanic shop, it should be easy to get into, and there may be something practical that we can use,” he said, crossing the street.
“Practical, like what?”
“Maybe a working car…or a gun.”
She slowed her pace momentarily, “A gun,” she said quietly to herself, and then picked up the pace. She didn’t like guns. The thought of shooting someone seemed as unnatural to her as living on Mars. She understood his reasoning in looking for a defensive weapon to keep the crazy people away, she still couldn’t help but feel edgy about the thought of a gun in the hands of this man that she knew very little about.
Dave bypassed the front door facing the street and went toward the side of the building. Walking through the narrow, shadowy corridor, Roxy followed closely with her ladies at her side. On the left of the corridor, the mechanic shop stood tall and sturdy and to the right, a cyclone fence. The fence, topped with barbed wire, entirely surrounded the neighboring property—a custom fabrication shop—according to the sign on the side of the building. The property was likely filled with welders, like Roxy’s father, during the daylight hours, but now remained stark and empty.
As they reached the side door to the shop, Dave shook the knob, with no luck. He sank to his knees as appeared to be carefully examining the locked door knob. Roxy backed away, leaving him to his burglary attempt, exploring the exterior of the building for any other possible entrances. There wasn’t so much as a window to look into from her vantage point, although she could see a row of windows, several feet up, along the top of the building’s walls.