Blood Runners: Box Set

by George S. Mahaffey Jr.

  Marisol turned and galloped and clawed her way over the berms of refuse, sliding down the backside when she caught sight of the flicker of something, of metal on the other side of the room. She immediately sensed that there might be a door there, a way out. She made herself small and scanned the path ahead.

  In order to get to the metal on the other side of the room she’d have to slip past the half-dozen ghouls who had fanned out and were now looking for her. She could see them from her hiding spot.

  Marisol burrowed into the soft garbage at her feet, making herself almost invisible. Waiting for the right moment to spring forward.

  Seconds ticked by, the funk of the trash overpowering. Marisol watched the men and women stagger past, some of them almost close enough to touch. They had their noses up, presumably searching for her scent which, mercifully, had been masked by the trash.

  She waited until the last man had lurched past her blind and then she pushed herself up, thundering forward when something tripped her and she fell forward.

  Rolling over, Marisol saw a huge, bulbous man who was missing one eye emerge from the room’s rotting remains. The fat man had his talon-like hand around the soft flesh of her ankle. He squeezed hard, drawing blood and Marisol thrust her foot back, giving a powerful kickthat flattened the man’s nose.

  The giant roared in anger and levered himself up as Marisol brought the pipe down again.

  The big man caught the pipe in his hand and fought with Marisol for control of it. He used his bulk to muscle Marisol, drawing her in close and snapping at her. What was left of his teeth barely missed her mouth, the nub of his tongue brushing her cheek.

  Marisol released her grip on the pipe.

  The fat man didn’t expect this and took a step back.

  Marisol punted him in the stomach, her boot opening up a gash in the necrotic flesh just above the man’s groin.

  The gray skin opened up, releasing a torrent of blood and bile and a knot of white worms that wriggled and mewled.

  The big man took a knee and Marisol could see the other ghouls reacting, rushing back to investigate.

  Seconds, that’s all she had.

  She spun and made for what she hoped was the door, slamming into the sections of metal, seeing the very same portal that Liza had opened and failed to fully lock before.

  Marisol grabbed the metal turn-wheel as the sounds of the approaching ghouls reverberated off the walls.

  They were so close now.

  She didn’t turn back.

  She couldn’t.

  She wrapped her hands around the wheel and grimaced, as she found to her surprise that it was not fully locked. Quickly, she was able to fully spin the wheel and push open the door.

  At the moment that fingers danced off the back of her head, Marisol willed herself forward, opening the door into another room. She planted her feet inside and pushed back, able to slam shut the door and spin the turn-wheel, locking it in place. The things on the other side grunted and slapped against it as Marisol crabbed back into the shadows.

  She found her way through another door and hooked a right. Marisol heard shouts in the distance. She was disoriented, not knowing where to go, but reckoning that going down was probably her best bet.

  She flew down a set of stairs and caught some nasty looks from three workers, one of whom shouted at her. Fumbling back, she dashed down a hallway and saw a door opening up ahead. She pulled back a clenched fist, readying to throw a punch and that’s when she saw her.

  The woman who appeared out of the open door.

  It was Liza! The woman from back on the boat! The one who’d been so kind when treating her wounds. Several seconds of silence stretched between them.

  “How?” Marisol whispered.

  Liza placed a finger to her lips, and ushered Marisol back through the door and into the storage room, before shutting and locking the door.

  117

  Bennie and Elias ran for their lives. They’d managed to grab the attention of every brain-wiped Thresher in the area, who were now in hot pursuit of the pair.

  Elias blitzed out ahead, Bennie following, the two mad-dashing across the grasslands as the Thresher gave chase. They continued sprinting, the monsters matching them pace-for-pace, Bennie shouted from behind at Elias.“Head for the overpass!”

  Elias could see the section of ruptured overpass that seemed to rise up into the sky out of the ten-foot grass.

  If they could just make it to there, they’d have a relatively easy route back toward the wall.

  Elias’s heart thumped as he vaulted over a menagerie of junked machinery and past an overturned fuel truck. He ran with wild abandon, the screams of the Thresher growing close. He lowered his head while bringing his pistol around and readying it on the fly, the grass rippling off to his right.

  Bennie saw it too, knew deep down that there might not be enough time to beat the killers to the overpass. The Thresher could barely see, but what they lacked in sight, they made up for in effort. They charged like berserkers, smashing into and through the junked machinery, never giving up, never growing fatigued. Bennie pulled his machine-pistol around. Anger took the place of fear as he aimed and fired at the first three Thresher to emerge from the grass and charge.

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  Bullets fragged the Thresher, cutting them down mid-spring as more appeared behind them. The barrel on Bennie’s gun glowed as he continued mowing down the Thresher, who fell in a great heap.

  More of them appeared and Bennie continued firing until his gun rolled over empty. Having no other weapons, he grabbed it and swung it like a baseball bat.

  He split the skull of the first Thresher, but the gun, slamming down against bone, shattered. Bennie used the jagged half of the gun like a saber, thrusting it violently forward. He shish-kabobed two more Thresher before another, a massive Hispanic man in a soiled mechanic’s shirt, rolled over him. The creature pinned Bennie’s arms back and readied to feast on his flesh when-

  WHACK!

  A bullet nuked the Thresher’s skull in half, showering Bennie in the thing’s blood and gray matter.

  Bennie shoved the dead Thresher over and peered up at Elias who blew smoke from his barrel.

  “Guess we’re even now,” Elias said.

  Elias reached a hand down and pulled Bennie to his feet and they set off again, moving at a brisk clip.

  Bennie hopped up onto the ruined overpass as Elias lagged behind for an instant.

  He moved over to a late-model sedan that had t-boned a compact many years before. The sedan was dented and scratched, but all the windows were still intact which was highly unusual. Elias used the butt of his gun to shatter a window on the sedan as the car’s alarm began wailing. Elias backtracked and then jumped up onto the overpass and ran after Bennie.

  The sound of the alarm filtered out across the grasslands, drawing the Thresher from near and far. Elias could see them coming, hundreds, maybe thousands of the things using the shade of the grass for cover.

  “Look at those ugly mothers,” Bennie said.

  Elias squinted. “How many you think there are?”

  “My guess is a whole lot more than whatever army the asshole inside that wall has,” Bennie replied with a wink.

  The two turned and ran over the remaining sections of overpass, putting some distance between themselves and the Thresher. They threaded over the summit of the overpass, then skidding down the back side before dropping off of the shattered concrete entirely.

  The ground on the other side of the overpass, nearer the coast and the water, was spongy. Large sections had caved in to reveal a hidden world of pipes, cables, wires, and conduits of all kind. And beneath this rubble were immense concrete tubes that ran in various directions. Coverings for the hidden freight tunnels that had been built back at the turn of the 20th Century.

  Elias and Bennie gaped down at what was clearly a stone and steel segment of a larger section of tunnel that had been pushed up from the ground. There was a hol
e in the tunnel’s roof and they could see that the tunnel continued on down into the earth. Bennie’s eyes went wide.

  “Would you take a look at that,” Bennie said.

  “What is it?”

  “The tunnels.”

  “What tunnels?” Elias asked, but Bennie had already dropped down onto the massive, cylindrical section of tunnel and looked back up at Elias.

  “Chicago’s got a whole ‘nother world right under our feet. Freight tunnels. Completely sealed off from the world for decades.”

  “How’d you know that?” asked Elias.

  “When you live on the streets you get to know that kind of stuff, kid.”

  Bennie hopped back up.

  “Gimme your phone.”

  Elias handed the cellphone to Bennie who noticed that the battery was nearly dead. They were running on fumes. He took the phone and turned it so that it was facing north. Then he looked down and Elias could see it, could see that the open trench in front of them perfectly mirrored the image of a something unseen on the phone.

  “This thing don’t only got a map of the ground. It’s got a map of those tunnels underneath us,” said Bennie.

  “Where do they go?”

  Bennie turned the phone and Elias could see that it was pointing toward the wall.

  “You thinking what I’m thinking?” Bennie asked.

  Recognition washed over Elias’s face.

  “If we go down underground they’ll never see us coming,” said Elias.

  “Your boy Longman’s gonna be in for a big, fucking surprise,” Bennie said with a dark grin.

  Bennie glanced over Elias’s shoulder to see the Thresher streaming down from the overpass. He raised his gun and fired a short burst and then he and Elias ducked into the open section of tunnel, signaling for the Thresher to follow.

  118

  Farrow saw the man who’d shot him before he hit the ground. It was Hendrix, one of Longman’s sycophants. He was still visible near the far side of the road in a shooter’s crouch, smoke rising from his gun. The bullet he’d fired was a small caliber, but it hurt like a sonofabitch nonetheless.

  The round had thudded into Farrow’s shoulder, blowing out a nugget of flesh in a burst of red. Farrow had toppled to the ground and the partisans had opened fire on Hendrix who ducked and managed to make his escape.

  Farrow gritted his teeth and pushed himself up, waving off Locks who was readying to clamber out of the SUV. Farrow ripped a section from his shirt and plugged the small hole in his deltoid.

  “Just a through and through,” Farrow said.

  He looked back and caught the tail-end of Hendrix who was running toward the Codex Building, screaming and waving his hands. Farrow knew it was time to move forward.

  “Let’s go!” he shouted.

  The SUV rolled forward and Farrow and the others followed at a slow trot, keeping low, weapons out. A few people in the distance seemed to notice them, but nobody seemed to understand what was going on.

  The truck picked up speed, so too did Farrow and the others. Farrow marveled at how large the Codex Building looked in the daylight. There were so many floors, he thought. So many people inside. Could they really do it? Could they really take Longman and his army down?

  Farrow saw that Hendrix had just reached the building and was gesticulating to the guards who looked up. Several goons rose and exited the building to get a closer look. One of them raised up his arm and a nervous man over to the right of Farrow fired a shot that winged the guard. He fell, screaming. Farrow cursing, realized they were exposed now, out in the open, the element of surprise no longer theirs.

  Locks juiced the gas and soon the other guards were crowding out of the building, opening fire. Bullets snapped and cracked the air as the truck rumbled forward, sailing through a withering crossfire.

  Bursts of machine-gun tracer rounds soon came from both sides of the street. Farrow and the others ducked and returned fire as the rounds from the guards ripped through the truck’s flimsy side-armor.

  Farrow watched Locks’s body jolt more than once. Saw the tiny sprays of red as the ex-priest monkeyed the wheel and juiced the truck’s engine.

  “Locks!” Farrow shouted.

  He ran forward and grabbed the driver’s door and leaned in. Lock’s breathing was coming in stabbing gasps and blood was seeping between his teeth.

  “We’re almost there,” Locks said.

  “You’re not gonna make it.”

  Farrow reached for Locks who pushed his hand away.

  “I’m already there, Farrow. I can see the other side. It’s not too far to the western gate.”

  Farrow held Locks’s look. “I hope to see you there one day.”

  Locks smiled and shoved him back and away from the truck. Then he slammed his hand down on the truck’s horn and stomped on the gas.

  The truck ripped forward as Farrow and the others knelt and fired out their guns. Farrow watched the truck accelerate, swerving wildly toward Longman’s men who were running toward it, en masse, like a plague of locusts.

  Inside the truck, Locks struggled with the wheel, fighting for control. He could see the guards firing at him, could feel their lead smashing through the windshield, chewing through his flesh.

  The Codex Building sprang into view at the moment that the truck’s tires blew out. The machine jackknifed, birthing a cacophony of rending metal and breaking glass.

  The truck spun and rolled over on its side, flipping over and over, crushing a half dozen of Longman’s men before it smoked to a stop near the entrance doors to Longman’s lair.

  Locks looked out of his shattered window. He could see the boots of the guards, could see their faces screwed up in anger. One of them pointed a gun at Locks who smiled and laughed, then plunged the truck’s detonator down.

  The blastwave that followed atomized the guards and everyone within several hundred yards of the explosion. The truck vanished in a giant fireball that blew out the windows on the building, destroying the lobby.

  Back down the street, Farrow and the others watched a pillar of fire rise up from the blast. A solemn air hung over everyone as they realized Locks gave his life for them. Farrow remembered back on something he’d heard once in Sunday school. Something that a holy man had once said about hell being cleansed one day by a great fire. Locks had just gotten that fire started, Farrow thought to himself. He closed his eyes and said a prayer for Locks and then he turned to the partisans and screamed, “LET’S GO!”

  119

  Jessup and Terry were halfway to the wall when they heard the BOOM! from the explosion of Locks’s SUV and saw the plume of black smoke rise into the air. They hit the ground and searched the wall, but still didn’t see any movement.

  “The hell was that?” Terry whispered.

  “I don’t know, but if there are any prying eyes around, they probably turned back to whatever that was.”

  Terry nodded and pointed to the ground before them.

  There was a trap of some kind, a length of wire near the edge of the section of land drowning in rusted cars and all manner of machines and earth-moving devices.

  Jessup’s eyes roamed from the length of wire to other things he hadn’t noticed before. The pit off to the right that was obviously concealed by handfuls of grass. What might be a land-mine, poorly hidden under a fresh mound of dirt. And here and there, amidst the wreckage of the machines, were the bodies of Thresher and other people who’d had the misfortune of coming this way.

  “You seeing what I’m seeing?” Jessup asked.

  Terry nodded. “Still want to go this way?”

  “You got a better idea?”

  Terry shook his head and the two rose and nimbled past the traps and the machines into the sharp-bladed grass that spread out beneath the embankment and the wall.

  They reached the embankment and Terry, grimacing in pain, boosted Jessup up onto the lowest rung of the metal ladder. Jessup clutched the rung with one hand while reaching down and pulling Terry
up.

  Soon the two were scaling the ladder up to the concrete landing that jutted out from the wall like a chin. With much effort, they hauled themselves up and collapsed on the landing and looked back, and down.

  That’s when they saw it.

  An almost ludicrously large herd of Thresher. Streaming across the grasslands and disappearing into what? Jessup had trouble discerning where they were going, but it appeared to be a hole of some kind in the earth. The bastards were slipping down into what? A hole in the ground?

  “You don’t think?” Terry said shrewdly, his eyes tracing the location where the Thresher were going to the edge of the wall.

  “I don’t know,” Jessup said. “All the more reason for us to keep moving.”

  Jessup stood and found a metal door confronting them. He grabbed the wheeled handle and was surprised to find that it moved. Terry gave him a hand and as the men turned the handle something clicked inside, and the door slowly opened.

  Darkness upon darkness greeted them.

  “Age before beauty, J.,” Terry said.

  Jessup grabbed up his weaponry and ran into the darkness on the other side of the door.

  120

  Marisol and Liza thought the Codex Building was about to collapse in the moments after Locks and the SUV vanished in a fireball. The entire structure swayed, motes of dust falling from the ceiling, cleaning supplies tumbling down from the shelves.

  “My God,” Liza said.

  Marisol had heard a sound like that many times before. It was an explosion, she was certain. If fact, it sounded an awful lot like the blast that Elias had triggered during his Absolution run, the one that taken the lives of several Apes.

  “Somebody blew something up,” Marisol whispered.

  Liza was about to respond when they heard a second sound. The staccato report of small arms fire followed by what might have been cheering and screams. Marisol’s mind raced. An explosion followed by machine-gun fire was a classic tactic used by insurgents, a way of sowing fear in an opponent. Marisol had learned about this during numerous training ops. She instantly knew that there were only a few people in New Chicago who might’ve known about this tactic … the Apes … Farrow.