Running with the Horde (Book 2): Delusions of Monsters

by Joseph K. Richard

The pressure came roaring back with a vengeance. After a moment of unbearable pain which brought Dick to his knees Tom grew tired of toying with him and asked him what he wanted. Dick cleared his throat and stood up, “Due to an unfortunate series of events, Muddy Brown has become a liability. He possesses both the wherewithal and the means to become a serious problem for us. I strongly urge he be removed immediately. Further, I feel like this, at least partially, is my responsibility so I would do the dirty work as it were.”

  Once again silence dominated the gloomy room. Dick assumed Tom was processing what he told him. Then a violent pain wracked his mind and Tom spoke again. His sweet voice dripping with venom and cold hatred driving Dick back to his knees.

  “You’ve forgotten your place it seems,” Tom hissed, “You are just worm food. Little better than the people you supposedly control. The insolence you’ve demonstrated over the course of our association has been boundless. The Syndicate has endured your misperception of where you stand in the food chain only because you have faithfully executed your duties over the years. But I simply cannot tolerate incompetence. You are so fond of analogies, let’s call this your strike one.”

  The pain started to subside as Tom strode toward the exit. Dick took some solace in the fact Tom hadn’t killed him. He glanced at his knees and allowed himself a brief fantasy of lunging at Tom from behind and pummeling his skull into the cement floor. Maybe painting the drab walls with Tom’s blood. But he looked up to see his boss had turned back just in front of the door. Tom was smiling at him, perhaps trying to goad him into making his move from across the room. But Dick was too smart for that and instead remained very still.

  “Remain focused on executing Project Simon,” Tom said, “Don’t concern yourself with President Brown. He is being dealt with. Do your part and you will be rewarded as promised. Fuck up again and you will find you are replaceable, just like any other pawn.”

  Later, Dick found himself back in his rental car drinking whiskey from a paper covered bottle. His ‘people to kill’ list had just grown larger by a considerable amount.

  Worm food.

  They thought of him as worm food.

  Dick was mentally kicking himself for actually believing the Syndicate had some kind of respect for him. He had been a fool, that much was certain. As far as his reward, he knew better than to believe that lie. He’d would be thrown out with the rest of the trash. A mindless drone living to serve whatever twisted purpose they had in mind for humanity.Well,to hell with that! They would rue the day they fucked him over. It was time to head back to Area 51 and throw a wrench into the spokes of the Syndicate’s plans, but first he needed to see a man about some explosives.

  His smug smile made him resemble a well fed crocodile as he took a pull from the bottle. There might not be a lot of time left but old Dick still had a few bullets left in his gun. He was going to show them all, this worm had teeth!

  As he slouched into his seat and drowned his sorrows his mind kept coming back to the security breach. He knew it couldn’t have come from Area 51. He had that place locked down tighter than a steel drum. It had to have been some other source. Tom had called him incompetent but Dick knew he was anything but incompetent. The only things that ever left Area 51 were body bags and ashes. That was when he remembered the blankets.

  He sat up in stark realization of his error. Cold whiskey spilling into his lap but he didn’t notice. “Andrew Penrod, you motherfucker!” he screamed. He turned on the car and slammed it into gear. His tires squealed in protest as he sped away into the night.

  Chapter 14: The Creep

  The Present

  The baby was crying, she was maybe 11 months old which meant she had been a newborn when everything changed. Her name was Candy and how she survived, how any of them survived this long was a story I really wanted to hear but now wasn’t the time for campfire tales. We were all back in the parlor room and the group was in the midst of a subdued state of panic. Caring for two small children was bad enough, but four children, a baby and a dog were devastating.

  “We’re not running a fucking daycare. We can’t take them with us,” Tessa said.

  The lady said something none us understood as she stabbed a finger in Tessa’s direction. Her name was Mailue Hang. She didn’t speak English but evidently recognized the ‘f’ word.

  “My grandmother says you should watch your mouth in front of the children,” the girl said. Her name was Marybeth and she was twelve years old. She was rocking Candy in her arms as she translated.

  “Tell your grandmother to f-“ Tessa started but I cut her off.

  “Tell her we will do our best to watch our language,” I said and gave Tessa a dirty look.

  Marybeth introduced the boy. His name was Wilbur and he was a family friend of the Hangs. He was eleven years old. The dog belonged to Marybeth and her name was Mandy. Clearly some tom foolery had been in play while naming the dog and the baby but it wasn’t any of my business. They were with us now which dramatically changed our group dynamic and not for the better.

  Wilson and Lanskey had made a very rash decision when they got to their scouting position. There were only four men barking empty threats at the building. Why they thought it was me inside the building was unknown. Lanskey explained how he and Wilson had snuck south a block and then approached the men from behind. The two flanking men each got their throats cut. I was only half listening by then because I swore I could hear a helicopter in the distance. Lanskey must have heard the same thing because he cut his explanation short. “I don’t know how long we have until the boys from the city get here. They had radios and were very upset when their guys wouldn’t respond to them,” Lanskey said.

  “You could have tried to fool them by answering the radio,” Tessa offered. Lanskey said nothing but did manage to throw a nasty glare in her direction.

  “George, we gotta move out right now. Do you know where we’re going?” Randolph said.

  “Yes,” I said with more confidence than I felt. I certainly had an idea of the general area the tunnel should be but I didn’t know per se.

  “Good, then let’s move out,” Randolph said, “Gallegan, you have point. We’ll head out the back way.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Wait, are we taking these people with us?” Tessa was outraged. Gallegan and his comrades paused after a few steps. Marybeth translated Tessa’s question and Mailue said something with a sneer.

  The older woman took a menacing step toward Tessa but I stepped in between them. “Never mind her, ma’am, she didn’t mean anything by it, she is just mean and rude,” I said to Mailue and Marybeth. To Tessa I said, “Of course we’re taking them with us.” Tessa didn’t like it but knew better than to argue the point with me especially since it concerned children and I had already repeatedly defended Sam and Jacob against her abuse.

  “What about him?” Steven said, pointing at the bloodied soldier trussed up on the beige carpeting.

  “We don’t have time for an interrogation right now,” said Randolph. “I guess he is coming with us too.”

  Using a crudely drawn map we determined the best route to where the old bakery had likely been. Randolph and his men would accompany me and the overall group to the bakery while Wilson, Lanskey and Steven drove the confiscated vehicle a few blocks away. There they would set it on fire and hope it served as a sufficient distraction for the soldiers when they came to find their men.

  For my part I agreed to send as many zombies to that location as I could exactly 30 minutes into the future to give the boys a chance to catch up with us. Between the fire and the undead, the hope was to keep any city reinforcements occupied for as long as possible while we searched for the tunnel.

  With nothing left to talk about it was time to leave. Wilson, Lanskey and Steven took off like ghosts out the front door, disappearing into the wintry landscape. Guns were checked and our few supplies assigned to various packs. Gallegan took the point with one of Randolph’s other men and led the w
ay down the hallway past two additional viewing rooms and a small kitchen to the back exit of the funeral home.

  The other guy from Team Randolph had responsibility for the prisoner. I would go next and act as the navigator since this was my idea. Each child was paired with an adult. I had Marybeth and Mailue took the baby. Tessa begrudgingly agreed to look after Wilbur, I feared for his safety. Mark, as always, had double duty with both Sam and Jacob. Randolph would take the rear to make sure nothing took us by surprise from behind. He would take the dog. We queued up at the back door and waited for Gallegan to start the human train.

  The wind grabbed the door from his hands and slammed it against the outer wall as soon as he opened it. It sounded like a shotgun blast and I heard Gallegan softly curse. The chilly air greeted us like an obnoxious house guest. I briefly worried the baby would wake up but she merely stirred. She must have gotten used to terrifying noises and sudden changes in temperature. I thought that was sad.

  Soon we were out and moving through a cramped back alley at a slow trot hugging the wall as best we could. The alley and streets were empty save for the drifting snow. The alley led to 5th Street, from there we trotted parallel to Lourdes’s Place until we arrived at the corner of 5th Street and Hennepin Avenue, the most dangerous part of our journey. Hennepin Avenue continues straight south and becomes the Hennepin Avenue Bridge. We were standing prone in single file on the 5th Street side against what used to be the glass windows of a now out of business Irish pub. Gallegan was peeking around the corner, I dropped my pack in the snow and sidled up to him with Marybeth clutching my freezing fingers in a death grip behind me.

  “What’s it look like?” I asked.

  “Looks busy,” came the whispered reply.

  “What’s the plan?”

  “Just wait, something is happening.”

  “Let me see.”

  “Just wait!”

  I pushed my way in front of him after a short scuffle that included some cussing. In the process I let go of Marybeth’s hand and I heard her whimper. I glanced around the corner just in time to see the giant steel gates start to open. The platform on top was loaded with armed soldiers who were backlit by bright lights. The gates ground to a halt once they were open and three vehicles moved through. Some type of smaller combat vehicle outfitted with a large gun on top followed by two large trucks. As soon as they passed through, the gates began closing. The loud sound of rotors turning reached my ears followed shortly by two helicopters buzzing down over the bridge. The helicopters split off, one to the east and one to the west while the vehicles began moving forward toward our position just a short two and a half blocks away. We were screwed.

  Wheeling back toward my group I knocked into Gallegan and we both fell. Everyone had heard the noises and were getting nervous. Randolph came jogging up from the rear without the dog. “What the fuck, George?” He said. I could tell he was pissed.

  “We need to move now!” I said.

  “Move where?” He asked as he went to look for himself.

  Gallegan was dusting himself off and giving me a dirty look.

  Randolph saw all he needed to see after a second of looking. He spun away from the wall and began running back the way we’d come. “Back to the funeral home,” he yelled quietly. The group began hurrying after him including me until I heard a familiar whimper.

  My heart fell when I saw her aglow in the oncoming headlights of the vehicles. Poor little Marybeth standing in the middle of the street all alone, the light giving her an angelic appearance. I took a step in her direction and felt a hand on my back.

  “We’ve got to leave her, George,” Gallegan said. I shrugged his hand off. He rolled his eyes when I turned to look at him. “Whatever, it’s your funeral,” he said. He shook his head, spit and took off after the others who had already disappeared around the corner.

  I looked at Marybeth, frozen in the spotlight and knew I couldn’t leave her. There wasn’t time for a prayer so I thought positive as I ran, adrenaline making my steps sure on the snowy surface. The sudden bright lights of the oncoming vehicles blinded me as my sprint took me onto the street but I knew where Marybeth was, a dark orb at the center of my vision. Two steps later she was in my arms in a fireman’s carry. From the corner of my eye I could see the vehicles were close and still moving slowly, maybe only half a block away. My sudden surprise appearance would erase any suspicion that Marybeth might be a trap and they would speed up in a hurry.

  With Marybeth in tow I ran across the street onto the sidewalk. Behind me engines revved and men shouted. Faster than I’d ever run in my life I dashed into a darkened alcove of yet another bar as the mounted gun began chewing up the brick wall.

  Marybeth was screaming as I set her down and tried the door which was locked. It was a thick wooden door with a broken glass window about waist high. I reached inside and unlocked the deadbolt. By this time that mounted gun was almost on us and there was no room for me to open the door and get inside so instead I tossed Marybeth through the window before turning and aiming my assault rifle around the corner of the alcove.

  I leaned out as far as I could to point my rifle around the edge before squeezing the trigger. The rifle shook in my hands and I couldn’t even see what I was shooting at as I fired shots in three round bursts. I wasn’t really trying to hit anything just buy some time. My shots had the desired effect as the big gun stopped firing and I heard men shouting. Then I noticed Marybeth was no longer screaming. Spinning back to the door I wrenched it open, jumped inside and slammed it shut behind me. There was no time to catch my breath or get used to the total darkness of the room.

  “Marybeth?” I called but there was no answer. “Fuck!” I screamed. Where could she have gone? I was distracted for maybe fifteen seconds. In that time she had managed to vanish. I had no light and the room was too dark for me to see. I did a panicky check for zombies but there were none present. There was no telling the layout of the room. I couldn’t remember ever having eaten there before. I dropped to my knees and started feeling around the floor in case she slipped and fell which seemed likely. I yelped when I ran into a wooden pole with my face. I discerned by feel that it was an overturned stand, most likely once used by a host waiting to seat people. From outside, footsteps approached the door, it sounded like a handful of men. I froze on the ground as I imagined them spraying the inside of the restaurant with copious amounts of lead, killing me and Marybeth and destroying, what had to be, some fabulous décor in the process. I forgot I had a gun. I forgot everything. I rose on knees that were weak with the anticipation of death as panic took control of my body and I started an all-out sprint straight into the heart of darkness.

  It turned out to be a short journey as I hit a heavy square table just below crotch level. I had maybe taken three full strides before my rather epic collision. I flopped over the table, took out the chair across from it with my face and crashed into the next table in a thunderous clatter that only sturdy wood and ceramic tile can make.

  Stunned and in a dazzling haze of pain, I laid on my back braying like a wounded animal. I couldn’t control it and I didn’t care. For a moment I even considered shooting myself it hurt so badly.

  “Sir,” called a stern voice from the street, “Throw down your weapon and come out with your hands up. You and your child will not be harmed. You have my word.”

  “Ugh,” I replied. It was a weak sound as I was just regaining control of myself and I was fairly certain he didn’t hear me.

  “Tee-hee-hee.”

  I heard a strange giggle from deeper in the room and instantly forgot my pain. It was a titter of madness, more appropriate in an asylum or from inside a closet inhabited by a monster. It was most definitely not the carefree laughter of a twelve year old girl. Unless I was hallucinating, the obvious conclusion was that Marybeth and I were not alone.

  “Sir,” came the voice from outside again, “I will give you ten seconds before we light this place up. Please acknowledge you can hear me.
”

  “Tee-hee-hee.”

  Icy shivers shot up and down my spine as the second time confirmed I hadn’t imagined the giggle.

  “Where are you?” I whispered harshly. “Marybeth, are you okay, honey?”

  “I have your frieeend,” the voice called back in a creepy sing-song voice.

  I was kneeling behind my overturned table facing the door when I heard that. It was behind me and to the left, further back in the darkness. Outside the man began counting down from ten putting my heart in overdrive. I truly didn’t know what to do.

  I thought I heard Marybeth whimper, “If you hurt her I will fucking kill you!” I shouted. This proclamation resulted in another maddening giggle.

  From outside the man paused at four, “I assure you, sir, we will not hurt either of you if you just comply and come out as instructed.”

  “I wasn’t talking to you, jackass! There is someone else in here and he has my kid!” I screamed. There was a pause, an awful silence, as the men outside must have been pondering this new information.

  From behind me I heard, “Ohhh that was bad. You shouldn’t have told them about me.” Then a matched flared, one of those big wooden matches and I beheld the face of a demon.

  He was kneeling behind a terrified Marybeth, who had silent tears coursing down her cheeks. His bony fingers curled around the handle of a rather menacing looking butcher’s knife held stiffly against her delicate trembling throat. His grinning, ghastly face gently nuzzled hers like they were posing for a father daughter photo. He was the devil or some similar creature with stringy hair and no eyebrows to reduce the crippling effect of his giant eyes. The skin of his face was loose and chewy looking around bloody, wormlike lips that seemed to vibrate with the force of his wicked looking smile. All that said, he did have perfect teeth, white and straight, albeit overlarge.

  All this I registered in the course of a precious two seconds as the blade gleamed in the match light held by his free hand. I brought my rifle up to my shoulder and took aim at his mile-high forehead. Disgust and rage surged through my body. I was aware on some level that I was sounding out my siren call and it wouldn’t be too long before this place was overrun by hordes of the undead but I couldn’t think about that now, I only wanted to shoot him.