by Sam Sisavath
What the hell?
She glanced back and saw the grenade disappearing underneath a stampede of dark legs and jutting pelvic bones.
It’s a dud. The grenade’s a dud—
But it wasn’t, because the grenade finally went off with a shockingly anticlimactic thoom! from deep in the ranks of the ghouls. There were so many of them that they actually absorbed much of the explosion and resulting noise, but if she thought the grenade hadn’t done its job, all she had to do was marvel at the way thick black blood splattered the walls and ceiling like someone had just poked a balloon filled with mud. Detached limbs and severed heads, along with shattered bones, rained down from the stale tunnel air.
It was a hell of a sight, but it did absolutely nothing to stop the tide of squirming black flesh. At least, not the ones up front. The ones in the back scattered across the floor either because of suddenly detached limbs, or they were caught in the concussive blast of the grenade.
For a little while, anyway.
Then they were back up.
Well, that didn’t work!
“Gaby!” Becker shouted.
She looked forward as the third corner appeared in front of her out of nowhere. They ran for it, legs pumping, and they were turning, turning—
She slipped and fell and careened across the paved floor like a bowling pin and crashed into the wall.
Dammit!
Like last time, Becker had made it around the turn just fine, but he must have seen her spilling out of the corner of his eye, because he slid to a stop and turned around. His rifle was instantly in his hands, and he was firing, the pop-pop-pop of his weapon filling the hallway. So loud, in fact, that they managed to penetrate the drumming that had overwhelmed her eardrums for the last few seconds. Or was it minutes? No, it had to be seconds since they began running for their lives.
Get up! Get up!
Gaby didn’t waste the second or two it would have taken to look back and check on how far the ghouls were behind them. Instead, she crawled forward on her knees, using both hands—both hands, including her numbed left. There wasn’t nearly as much pain as she had anticipated, but she also barely felt contact with the cold concrete floor every time her left palm touched it, and she pulled herself forward, staying low (Stay low!) for fear Becker might shoot her by accident.
Because he was firing everything he had, swinging his rifle left and right, left and right, and though she didn’t allow herself to look back, she could hear the sounds of bullets pinging! off bones and ricocheting into the walls. Wetness splattered the wall to her left, and she swore some landed on her back and even got in her hair.
But Gaby didn’t stop crawling until she’d passed Becker. Something that might have been a bullet casing bounced off her right shoulder, but she ignored it and scrambled up, unslinging her rifle at the same time.
“Go go go!” Becker was shouting even as he turned and ran.
Gaby was right beside him, matching him stride for stride. She clutched the M4 in front of her, willing the fingers of her left hand to hold onto the barrel tightly in case she had to use it. Thank God she still had full use of her right hand, which maintained a firm grip on the carbine.
Don’t lose your weapon. Don’t lose your damn weapon, girl!
Becker was reloading as he ran, shouting at her, “Last one!”
“Last one?” she thought before understanding what he meant. He was putting in his last magazine, which meant they were now down to two—hers and his.
No, that wasn’t true. She had two magazines left, except one belonged to the Mercerian from the alley, and it didn’t have silver bullets. That extra spare, unfortunately, was of little value to her now while there was a relentless tide of ghouls behind them.
She glanced back and instantly regretted it.
They were still coming.
Of course they were still coming.
And there might have been even more of them since the last time she looked, since Becker’s grenade detonated.
But how was that possible?
The answer was, it wasn’t.
Right?
Right?
“Gaby!” Becker shouted.
She looked forward again and saw what he was pointing at. The ladder they had used to access the bomb shelter from the warehouse. It was where it was supposed to be. So close and yet so far.
But at least it was there. In the back of her mind, she was fully prepared for it not to be there, that maybe Clive and his companions had done something to it when they came down. That didn’t make any sense, if she really thought about it, but her mind was running on fumes at the moment, and she wasn’t sure if anything made sense.
“You first!” Becker shouted. “Give me your rifle!”
She didn’t argue with him and held the M4 up. Becker snatched it out of her hand and slung it, then stopped on a dime, spun around, and immediately opened fire.
Gaby kept running. She didn’t like being told what to do, but Becker was right (even if he didn’t actually come out and say it). She had one good working arm and was going to have trouble shooting straight with it. Hell, she wasn’t even sure she was going to be able to climb up the ladder—
She jumped and landed on the second rung and grabbed the side of the cold (I don’t remember it being this cold!) ladder and pulled herself up. There was pain, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been, and she was able to fight through it. There was nothing blocking the exit above her, which made sense (Are you sure?) since Clive and his pals had to have come down the same way, and there would be no reason for them to close it back up after they did.
How the hell did they know about the tunnels? Better question, how did they know a way into B that we didn’t?
The pop-pop-pop of Becker’s rifle behind her, an unrelenting assault of silver bullets echoing off the tunnel’s construction. She knew he had switched to full-auto by the loud rattle; she also knew he had no choice, because there were too many and single shots weren’t going to do it. So he was unloading everything he had and soon he’d be down to Springer’s—
A second of silence—two—three—before the pop-pop-pop of gunshots exploded again.
Becker had just switched to her rifle, which meant—
“Go go go!” Becker was shouting from below her.
Wait. Below her?
She glanced down and saw the top of his head just as he bumped into the ladder. The rifle bucked in his hands as he swung it left and right and back again, bullet casings ejecting out of the carbine like the gutted remains of exploding firecrackers.
Gaby looked up and climbed, and climbed, and climbed.
Exerting pressure with her left arm hurt, but she didn’t have any choice. She couldn’t climb with just one arm. Well, she could, but it would have slowed her down tremendously and she couldn’t afford that. Even a second’s delay could cost them everything.
“Faster! Faster!” Becker was shouting below her.
When she looked down again, Gaby saw that he was already scrambling up the ladder behind her.
“Go go go!” he shouted.
I’m going, I’m going! she thought as she looked back up, saw the opening, and reached for it with her good arm—
A hand appeared out of nowhere and grabbed her by the wrist, and before Gaby could protest, yanked her up and through the square opening. She glimpsed figures standing around the supply closet as she was tossed (?) into the air and unceremoniously dumped back down on the cold and hard concrete floor.
She looked up at the gas masked figures that surrounded her, the circled M’s on their chests glowing in the semidarkness of the room.
Oh, fuck me.
Twelve
Gas masks.
Circled M’s.
I’m so screwed.
The pfft-pfft-pfft! of a suppressed rifle firing, bullet casings arcing through the air and landing in front of her and clattering against the hard pavement.
Becker! They’re shooting Becker!
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But as soon as she thought that, the man himself fell onto his stomach next to her with a pained grunt. He was very much alive, even if his face was flushed red and his blond hair matted to his forehead with sweat. He looked like someone who had just run a marathon and barely survived.
That’s not far from the truth, I guess.
She wondered if she looked as messy, if not worse. How far had they run? It felt like more than twenty-six miles. Maybe two marathons…
The continuous pfft-pfft-pfft! of gunfire filled the small room before one of their captors finally said, “Now would be a good time to close it, Jolly.”
Gaby got her best look at the Mercerians. The biggest one in the room by far was lifting the thick block of concrete by himself, using the two hooks and slamming it down over the opening. Almost instantly the smell of dead flesh evaporated, replaced by crisp night air.
Wait. Did one of them just say Jolly?
The big man turned around and pulled the gas mask off his face and sucked in a deep breath. “Well, that was fun. Let’s not ever do that again.”
“What the fuck?” Gaby said.
“Nice to see you, too,” Jolly said. He stuck out a big paw and she grabbed it, let herself be pulled up to her feet. “Had a nice jog?”
“Jesus Christ, I’m so glad to see your big ugly mug,” Gaby said. She rotated her right arm to see if it was still in its socket. It was, thank God. “But did you have to tear my arm right off, too?”
“You looked like you were in a hurry.”
“I was.”
“There you go.”
Gaby looked over at the others as they, too, took off their gas masks. She recognized another familiar face, but the other two were strangers to her.
Peters stood next to Jolly, cradling an AR with a suppressor attached at the end. He was looking her up and down. “You don’t look so hot, kid.”
Gaby smiled and shook his hand. “I’ve been better, old timer. Glad to see you’re still kicking.”
“Always still kicking. It’s what I do.”
“What are you guys doing here?”
“Looking for you.”
“Me?”
“Lara’s orders,” Peters said. He ran a gloved hand through his hair. It had a bit more gray along the temples than she remembered. The last time she saw Peters, they were trying to survive Axton together. Jolly was also there.
“Hey, I’m okay, too, thanks for asking,” Becker said as he picked himself up from the floor. “Don’t anyone mind me over here.”
Peters ignored Becker and nodded at the other two in the room with them. “Give me some security, guys.”
The two Black Tiders nodded and left the room to stand in the hallway outside. In the brief few seconds she’d gotten a good look at them, neither of the men looked like soldiers, and she guessed they weren’t. Not really. Probably some of the support personnel that had managed to escape the initial attack. Gaby looked past them and at the darkened corridor beyond and shivered unwittingly.
“We’re good,” Peters said. Apparently, he’d seen her reaction. “The building’s secure. We made sure of that.”
“Let me see that,” Jolly said, turning on a flashlight to get a better look at her left arm. She grimaced slightly when he unwound the bandage. “I need to change this. You did a pretty shitty job, Commander.”
“I was under a little duress,” Gaby said.
“Lean against the wall.”
She did, and Jolly took out a first-aid kit from one of his pouches and went to work cleaning, disinfecting, then covering the bullet hole back up. She found it easier to focus on Peters instead of paying attention to what Jolly was doing.
“Where’s Lara?” she asked the older man.
“She had to abandon OP2,” Peters said. “They were being overrun. The ghouls found a way into the shelter.”
“Same thing happened to us,” Becker said. He was, as far as Gaby could tell, unhurt from their mad dash through the tunnels, except for a few bruises along his temple. “B was overrun with enemy forces. Both types. They also found a way into C and got behind us.”
Peters grunted. “Yeah, that’s been happening a lot tonight.”
“What has?” Gaby asked.
“The enemy knowing a little too much about us. You said they found a way in behind you?”
“There were three of them down there. Two’s dead. The last remaining one is hiding in one of the rooms.”
“He’s still down there?”
“As far as I know. Said his name was Clive.”
“He told you his name, too?”
“Yes. Don’t ask me why. He said something about tracking Lara all night.”
“‘Tracking’ her how?”
“He didn’t elaborate.”
Peters glanced at the square block in the floor. “And he’s still down there?”
“Along with a few hundred ghouls,” Becker said. He was checking his sidearm because he didn’t have his rifle anymore. “I heard about the ghouls that took out Cordine City, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t think it was all made up.”
“It wasn’t made up,” Gaby said as she exchanged a look with Peters. She had no doubt that he was thinking about Axton, too.
“I guess not,” Becker said.
“What’s with the uniforms?” Gaby asked.
“Camouflage,” Peters said. “For about a while, Darby Bay was crawling with ghouls. The only way through them, without having to fight for every inch, was to wear these.”
“And they work?” Becker asked.
“Like a charm. There were times it didn’t feel like they would work, but they did. The creatures never attacked.”
“Still made me piss my pants, though,” Jolly said. He had finished up with Gaby’s injury and tossed the remains of the kit.
“You said ‘for a while…’” Gaby said.
“They took off about the same time we got here,” Peters said.
“I don’t understand…”
“I’m not exactly sure what happened, not that I’m complaining,” Peters said.
“Definitely not complaining,” Jolly said. “Give me Buckies any day over those creepy crawlers.”
“One minute they’re everywhere—and I mean, everywhere—and the next… Poof,” Peters said. “Just like that, they’re heading for the exits.”
“All of them?” Gaby asked.
“The ones that were in the streets. I don’t know if that was all of them, but it was a hell of a lot of them.”
“Except for the ones downstairs,” Becker said. “They didn’t look like they were going anywhere.”
“I don’t know about those,” Peters said. He was staring at her as he talked, like he wanted to add more but wasn’t sure if he should.
“What?” Gaby said. “What are you thinking?”
“Remember Axton?”
“How could I forget?”
“It was kind of like that.”
“How?”
“Like someone—something—called them away.”
Something with blue eyes, she thought but didn’t say out loud.
“But like Jolly said, I’m not complaining, that’s for damn sure,” Peters continued.
Becker glanced behind him at the entrance into the tunnel below. “Those things found a way into B somehow. Maybe someone let them in. Those Mercerians we saw down there. What are the chances they’re unable to find their way back out?”
“Well, they’re not exactly the smartest kids in school,” Jolly said. “It doesn’t take much to confuse those black eyes.”
“Let’s not find out,” Gaby said. Then, to Peters, “So it’s just Buckies we’re dealing with now?”
“For the most part, yeah,” Peters nodded.
“You like chewing gum?” Jolly was asking her.
Gaby looked over at him. “Not really.”
“You’ll love these,” he said, and took a packet out from one of his vest pouches and held it to her.
She took it. There were round pills inside, but of course they weren’t chewing gum. She smiled. Painkillers. Her thigh was still nagging her, but she’d been able to forget about it with everything else to occupy her mind. But now that she didn’t have to run for her life anymore, it was harder to ignore and was adding to the pain from her arm.
Gaby pushed out one of the pills, then decided two was better, and swallowed them down.
“That’s my girl,” Jolly said.
“Let’s get out of here,” Peters said and led them out the door. “Take point,” he said to the two men waiting outside.
Both men started walking, and Gaby, with the others, followed closely behind.
“Jones and Walton,” Peters said, nodding at the two in front of them. “They were running around out there after the attack. Couldn’t find their units apparently, so Jolly and me sort of adopted them.”
“The more the merrier,” Becker said. “By the way. Someone was playing a little guardian angel for us earlier tonight. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
Peters smiled. “I’ve been on Overwatch duty all night until now. Thought you guys could use some help.”
“That was you?” Gaby asked.
“Uh huh.”
“Where were you?”
“Up in the water tower.”
“No wonder I didn’t see you.”
“Hey, I helped, too,” Jolly said. “I kept him alive while he was picking off scumbags from up there.”
“Thanks,” Becker said. “You saved our lives.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not over yet,” Peters said. He looked over at Gaby. “How much do you know so far?”
“Not much,” Gaby said. “We lost contact with Parrish and Lara while we were in the tunnel. Then nothing.”
“Radios are all kinds of fucked,” Jolly said. “Most of the time we can’t even hear anything through the general comm.”
“Are you still in contact with Lara?”
“It comes and goes,” Peters said. “The last time we heard from them was about ten minutes ago while we were on our way here. I don’t know where she is now or even where we’re supposed to take you.”
“What about the rest of our units?”