The Blood Pawn

by Nicole Tillman

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  BRRRRRTTTT!

  BRRRRRTTTT!

  BRRRRRTTTT!

  I hop off my cot just as everyone around me jerks awake. I've never heard this deep, blaring alarm before, but I know it can't mean anything good. Especially not at four in the morning.

  “What in God's name is that?” Martina groans, pushing hair out of her face.

  “Don't know.”

  A couple beds down, I lock eyes with Cain. “Any idea?”

  He shakes his head just as the dormitory door swings open.

  “Infected headed our way,” the night guard says. “Meet in the armory in five.”

  “Five minutes?” Tina squeaks, but he's already gone.

  I push my feet into my boots, lace them as fast as my fingers will allow, and proceed to herd my friends down the hallway. All of our faces are bathed in the red emergency lights, which offers a certain urgency to the air, but all of their limbs seem heavy with fear.

  “Walk now, freak out later. C'mon, guys!”

  They pick up the pace and we get to the door right after McCreaton punches in the code to unlock it.

  “Get what you need and get to your post,” he barks. “Alphas to the roof, Betas to the gate. Move it!”

  Okay.

  Crap.

  This is really happening.

  But we trained for this.

  Sort of.

  We've been trained to fight and to shoot, but I know that nothing has prepared us for what we're about to do, which is take a life. Nothing can prepare you for that. I know it. Everyone behind me knows it. We're here because we've been put in that position before. The only difference now is it's our job to destroy the infected heading our way. It's not just survival or a decision made in the heat of the moment. We're moving forward with intent. And that makes all the difference.

  With my bladed weapons in hand, I wait for my team to load their pockets and belt clips with extra ammunition. When I've lost all patience and I'm ready to yell at Sully to pick up the pace, someone squeezes my arm.

  “Be careful out there.”

  Cain's voice is gruff from sleep and just the slightest bit shaken. But I can't fault him for that. I'm a little worried myself.

  “You too.”

  Our exchange reminds me that there's a very real chance that one of us might not come back. I realize that it will be like this every day from now on. We have no real guarantee of tomorrow.

  We leave the armory armed to the nines. Well, all except me. I'm armed with a bamboo clearer and a lumberjack sidearm. I feel vulnerable. Vulnerable, but I'm not quaking in my boots. I attribute that to the fact that I don't have a heart pumping adrenaline through my system or lungs to hyperventilate with.

  The Alpha and Beta groups split off at the stairwell and we go our separate ways. I risk glancing back at Cain, who I find already watching me as he marches away with his team.

  “Don't die,” I mouth.

  He grins and nods his head just once.

  I consider that a promise and hold him to it.

  Outside, the air is brisk and the black sky is lightening in preparation for daybreak. It's hard to see much of anything, even with the spotlights at the top of the building shining light on the surrounding field.

  A woman's voice crackles through the PA system.

  “Beta Team, exit.”

  The buzzer shatters the silence around us and the gate begins to slide open.

  “What?” Tara yells. “They want us to go outside the gates? Are they insane?”

  I roll my eyes and take the first steps toward the outside world. Toward the threat. Ax in one hand, machete in the other. Cain and I named them Thelma and Louise.

  When everyone is outside the fence, the powers that be do what I fully expect them to do.

  They close the gate.

  “Oh God,” Tara whimpers. She's on the verge of a freakout. “Oh God, oh God, oh God. Don't let me die.”

  Grabbing her by the wrist, I jerk her forward to stand at my side.

  “There are worse things than death, Tara.”

  “Yeah.” She swallows harshly. “You're right. You're absolutely right.”

  A tear trickles down her cheek but she wipes it away with the back of her hand. She has to be stronger than this.

  I stare out at the horizon as we wait for the threat to descend. “I've been meaning to ask, how'd you get your kill?”

  Tara chokes up, and I already regret asking.

  “It was a little old lady,” she says. “And it was with my freaking car. I've never actually had to fight one of these before.”

  “Sweet Lord,” Martina groans behind us.

  “Well, they didn't specify!” Tara says in her defense. “I was going crazy. We were staying in a storm shelter – nine of us – and I just wanted out. I didn't want to die surrounded by mold and canned peaches.”

  “Hey, breathe,” Sully says, laying a hand on her shoulder. “I've seen you in training. You'll be fine.”

  Sully casts a grim expression my way, and it looks an awful lot like a warning. I know what he's trying to communicate.

  Tara hasn't been the best in training. Far from it, really. He's bluffing to give her an ego boost. Hopefully it works.

  “Okay,” she says, nodding in rapid succession. “Yeah. I've got this. Yeah. We've got it.” She pauses and looks to me. “We've got this, right?”

  Nope. I can't do this. Time for the tough love.

  I snap my head her way and point the blunt handle of the ax at her chest.

  “Yes! We have this. Everything is going to be fine as long as you do what you're supposed to do and don't do something stupid like try to climb back over the gate. If you have my back I'll make sure to have yours. Okay? Now shut up and get ready!”

  I expect her to turn away or retreat into herself but she doesn't. She steps closer and lowers her voice.

  “Maya.”

  “What?”

  She looks around to make sure none of the others can hear.

  “What happens if they bite us?”

  Did she really, truly just ask me that?

  This girl has gone and lost her mind.

  “Nothing happens!” I yell, inches from her face. “YOU are vaccinated! YOU will be fine!”

  Concern colors her eyes. “And if they bite you?”

  Well if that isn't just the million dollar question.

  I shrug.

  “Hell if I know.”

  Tara whimpers, and I already want to grab her by the scruff of the neck and drag her back inside where she's safe. She's not ready for something of this magnitude.

  “You've got this, Tara,” I repeat. “Just keep your eyes open, your hands up, and your weapons at the ready. Just quiet your mind and let instinct take over. Everything you've learned is ingrained in your body already. Muscle memory. Just let it work its magic. Okay?”

  She looks down at the gun in her hand and uses her thumb to flick off the safety.

  Atta girl!

  “Okay.” She sniffs back tears and I feel pride swell in my chest at the strength she's trying to show.

  But I don't have time to applaud her because out of the corner of my eye, something moves.

  My entire body goes on high alert as I scan the horizon. What did I see? What changed?

  “What time is it?” someone asks.

  I silence them with a lift of my hand.

  Sully moves in beside me, narrowing his eyes in the direction I'm facing.

  “They're here,” he says.

  Safeties click off. Guns cock.

  The thrumming of seven different heartbeats registers in my ear, but I don't focus on them. I push them aside and listen for something else.

  When I hear it, my muscles electrify, and all the apprehension I felt before melts into the shadows. I focus on the mission at hand.

  This isn't about killing. It's not about ending the people who are grunting, snarling, sprinting our way.

  No.

&
nbsp; It's about protecting the people at my side and everyone inside the base.

  That's all I focus on as the horde races closer.

  I twirl my wrist and spin the machete until the blade is pointed out at the dead eyes advancing toward me.

  My ax raises above my head.

  I'm ready.

  In the illumination of the flood lights above us, I can see their faces. Puss oozes out of sores against their sickly gray skin. Their clothes are caked in mud, grime, and other fluids I don't want to think about. Their eyes dart around, taking us in.

  I can hear them growl and murmur. It's indecipherable. Just clipped words and guttural dissonance.

  Thirty yards.

  Gunfire erupts around me, and once again I acknowledge the fact that I could be shot once I'm in the thick of it.

  Twenty yards.

  Bodies hit the ground, sounding like water balloons smacking against concrete in the midst of summer. I hear sloshing, the spilling of blood. My eyes hone in on one target and I bounce on the balls of my feet, preparing to advance.

  Ten yards.

  “Do me a favor?” I yell over the commotion.

  “What?” Sully yells right back.

  “Don't shoot me!”

  My feet push off the ground and I run, teeth bared in a snarl identical to the man swiping his dirt-caked fingers at my face. My muscles are ready to put my weapons to good use, and as soon as he's in range, I swing my ax, blunt side first. The metal hits the side of his skull, throwing his head to the side. His body follows and I waste no time raising my machete and bringing it down between his skull and shoulders. Blood splatters across my pants as he separates into two pieces.

  Dead.

  A shrill scream pierces the air near my ear and I turn to find a woman throwing her arms wide, about to bear hug me. She's already too close. But not close enough I can't get a good hit. Swinging my ax up between us, I catch her in the diaphragm. The ax sticks, latching us together, and my machete is swinging before she has a chance to realize what is happening.

  Dead.

  The popping of gunfire grows thicker, and I have a moment to glance up and see the Alphas. They're all poised at the top of the building, crouched low, using the concrete lip to prop their weapons on. All except one. One Alpha stands, moving along the ledge. His face is hidden by his scope, but I know who it is. The only person in that group with enough confidence to move as he's shooting, even though the distance puts him at a disadvantage.

  Cain.

  Bodies fall to the ground mere feet away from me, and I know what he's doing. What he shouldn't be doing.

  I don't need help. Others do.

  Glancing around, I search for Tara. She's the one that needs help.

  Or, at least I thought she did.

  When I find her, I almost keep looking, because she doesn't look like the meek little girl I've been training.

  Her black hair is coming out of its braid and one side of her face is caked in blood. The other side is stark white, and I can see her war face from where I stand.

  Zombies crumble around her as the firing of each shot lights her features. She's so lost in the battle that she doesn't even blink when another spray of blood hits her in the face.

  She's got this.

  I look to the others and find Sully outnumbered three-to-one.

  I take off sprinting, ready to give him aid.

  Just as a woman in a floral dress splits open his side with jagged nails, I swing my ax. It lodges into her skull, jerking me to a stop, and my machete moves through her neck in one swift hit. Her body falls to the ground in a tangle of shuddering limbs, but her head remains on the curved blade of my ax.

  I knock her against the ground, again and again, trying to free my weapon, but it's buried in so deep I have to press the heel of my boot against her cheek while I pry it out.

  Dead.

  When I look up, Sully's already buried a bullet in the base of the other zombie's skull. I spin around, looking in all directions, ready to take on the next advancing threat, but there isn't one.

  All around me, the dead cover the earth. Blown out heads, torsos twitching in the mud, and my own kills, all in more than one piece peek up from the grass like gruesome Easter eggs.

  A siren rings through the air as the sun peeks over the horizon, and it takes me a second to register what that means. All around me, my team takes in what we just did.

  We won.

  Everyone standing has a pulse. Well, with one exception, of course.

  The siren stops and the gate slides open a mere three feet before stopping.

  “Guess that's our cue to go back inside,” Wes pants. It's one of the first times I've ever heard him speak, but I couldn't agree more.

  “Good job, guys.”

  That doesn't begin to cover what I'm feeling, but I have to say something because I'm not sure anyone inside is going to have anything positive to say.

  Sully grips me around the shoulders as we slide through the gate.

  “Thanks for that, Maya.”

  His eyes are bright with adrenaline and I can see his heart beating at his throat. I can also see blood spreading out under his shirt.

  “You don't ever have to thank me for helping you out there,” I say.

  I mean it. He's one of my people. I'd do anything for him, which is why I reach my arm around his waist and plant my hand over his wound to staunch the bleeding.

  “Still. I just wanted you to know that, you know, I appreciated it.” He's winded, and probably losing a little too much blood, but I've got him.

  “Well, I'm sure you'll have the chance to return the favor.”

  Slowly, he nods.

  “Yeah, I guess you're right. This is going to be the new norm, isn't it?”

  As much as I hope that isn't the case, I know better. This right here is it. It's our main purpose in life for as long as the government thinks us useful. But I guess there are worse things to be doing in the midst of an apocalypse.

  “Yeah, Sully. This is normal now.”

  “Sweet.” He grins, but I catch just the slightest hint of green around his gills before I hand him over to the medical staff waiting for us at the door.

  “Go get sewed up,” I say, taking his weapons.

  “This?” He tries for a laugh but winces when a nurse presses a pad of gauze against his side. “Tis but a scratch.”

  I hope to God none of our superiors ask him how he felt about our first battle, because the boy can't lie to save his life.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “Did you see that? I blew that guy's head apart! I mean... APART! Into two pieces!”

  Inside the concrete walls of our new home, the others soar on their adrenaline highs. Their eyes are wild, their muscles still tensed. Everything they did and saw and felt finally registers, and their brains speed up to process it all.

  But there is no adrenaline high for me. No celebrating. I feel just as I do every day. Just there. Yes, I'm happy we made it through our first real altercation without a single casualty, and I'm proud of myself for doing as well as I did, but I don't have that rush, so it's not the same.

  “Did you see Maya?” Brian says, knocking me in the shoulder with his fist. “She was like a freaking samurai! Swinging those blades, kicking zombie butt. It was awesome!”

  “Thanks,” I mutter. I want to be just as excited about this, I really do, but it's just not there. Not today. Or I'm not letting it register, I'm not sure which.

  “You okay?”

  Cain stands behind me with one hand on my shoulder, as if I need comforting or reassurance.

  “I'm fine. Thanks for the help.”

  He shakes his head like he has no idea what I'm talking about, and I have to find that admirable. He's not trying to gloat or rub it in my face that I needed his assistance. He's not even trying to boast or reaffirm his manliness.

  “How was it from where you were standing?” I ask.

  One of his shoulders lifts in a half-shrug
. “Probably not as scary as it was on the ground.”

  “Scary?” Martina smiles before elbowing him in the stomach. “I think the word you're looking for is exciting.”

  Cain's lips curl into a smirk. “Exciting. Scary. They're pretty interchangeable if you ask me.”

  “Yeah, if you're an adrenaline junkie.”

  “Look around you,” he says with a wave. “We're all adrenaline junkies.”

  I follow his hand, taking in Brian, Wes, Tara-- even Celeste is celebrating. But my eyes bounce back to Tara, who's sporting one hell of a beaming grin.

  “We didn't use to be.”

  “We didn't use to be in constant danger either,” he points out. “People change based on their circumstances.”

  “Don't I know it,” I grumble.

  Sully comes limping in through the door, and Brian immediately runs to help him. He's holding onto his side, but the smile on his face is so enormous I know they gave him some kind of painkiller.

  Brian gets him situated on his cot with some help from Cain.

  “If anybody asks, Freddy Krueger got me,” Sully slurs, giggling.

  Oh yeah, the boy is high.

  A beep rings through the room and a voice crackles over the PA system. We all turn our faces to the speaker. “Alpha Team to the laboratory. Alpha Team to the laboratory.”

  Cain looks down at me, as if I have an explanation, but I don't. So I shrug and wave him toward the door. When our group is cut in half, the room seems to die down a bit.

  “Where do you think they're going?” Tara asks.

  Martina takes a seat next to her. “Dunno, but I'd bet money they'll be paging us later. Probably a debriefing or something.”

  “Or more tests,” Brian adds. “I don't know about you all, but I'm already sick of being poked on.”

  I don't know if I've just been desensitized to it or if I've grown physically and emotionally numb, but I no longer cringe when a needle slides into my skin. It barely registers, and I'm pretty sure I could be treated by an acupuncturist with Parkinson's and not have a care in the world.

  Instead of taking part in their post-battle banter, I lay down on my cot and close my eyes. Of course I can't sleep, but I can decompress and zone out enough their voices fade away. I let my mind wander to other times, other places, like the time my father took me fishing for the first time or my junior prom when I danced with all my friends. But eventually, a voice crackles through the speakers, ripping me from my memories.