by Jeff Olah
As the SUV slowed in front of them, Brian watched for the signal to power on the walkie. He pulled closer and focused the headlights along their left side and pulled to a stop. Twenty seconds, then forty, and then a full minute went by before the driver’s door opened and Randy stepped out.
His pistol resting in his lap, Brian pulled alongside and turned to Jack. “Hey, you alright… I think something’s going on out there; can you pop your window?”
Randy made his way over to Jack’s window and leaned in. “You guys see him?”
“Who?” they asked.
Mason rounded the front of the SUV and also headed their way as Randy said, “Grant…he was walking on the shoulder and just disappeared into the trees. We’re going after him. You guys wanna wait here and cover the others?”
Brian grabbed his weapon and opened his door. “I’m coming with you. Jack can stay here. He’s not doing too well anyway.”
“Alright, let’s do it,” Randy said. “Stay close and no running off alone. We go get him and come right back. No more than five minutes.”
Brian led the way with Randy close behind. Mason stayed back with the others as the two men disappeared into the trees. Down onto the shoulder and then back up a slight incline that moved into the dense underbrush, Brian spotted his friend.
Twenty yards ahead and beginning to slow, Grant struggled to continue along the uneven terrain. Each step appeared more labored than the one before and if not for a few meticulously placed pines, he’d have been taken from his feet more than once.
As Brian approached from behind, so did three slow moving Feeders from the right, who Grant seemed to either not see or not necessarily care about. The trio would intersect his friend within seconds, if Brian didn’t get there first.
Turning to Randy as they stepped up their pace, Brian said, “Can you handle those three, while I go after Grant?”
Randy simply nodded and broke off, running toward the Feeders as Brian moved quickly to Grant. Miscalculating his speed combined with the loose ground covering caused Brian to slide sideways into his friend. The force of impact was so great that both men were sent to the ground, with Brian finding himself lying only inches from Grant.
Approaching quickly from behind, Randy greeted the Feeders only feet from the others. Three rapid headshots and the sluggish beasts were forever discarded. Scanning the area, he moved to Brian, helped him to his feet and then both men approached Grant.
Still flat on his back and shaking off the shock of the collision, Grant averted eye contact. Twisting left to right and back again in an effort to right himself, he appeared unable to control his own movements. His legs spastic and his arms flailing above his head, Grant kicked at the air, although momentarily unable to vocalize his frustration.
Standing over his friend, Brian offered his hand. Grant didn’t react and digging his heels into the soft dirt, pushed himself away.
“Let’s go buddy,” Brian said. “The truck’s running and we have to go, like right now.”
“He’s doing it again,” Randy said. “But we really don’t have the time for this. Do you want to just try carrying him out of here?”
His grey hair and thick beard now saturated with dried blood and the filth of the past day’s events, Grant looked more dead than alive. Overcome with a convulsion, his face contorted as he attempted to speak. The syllables were all there, they were simply pushed from his mouth in the wrong order.
Once the tremors had stopped, Brian again approached his friend. He knelt along his left side with Randy maintaining his positon a few paces behind. As Grant’s body began to calm, Brian said, “Grant, you need help, let’s get you back to the truck.”
Finally able to properly form a thought, Grant said, “No, I need you to kill me.”
“You’re delirious, you need some water and—”
Interrupting Brian and by slowly pulling back his sleeve, Grant exposed his right forearm. From wrist to elbow, there appeared to be four sets of bite marks, each worse than the last. Finally making eye contact with his friend, he was ready. “Brian, please do this. I need you to keep your promise.”
Now standing over the two, his weapon trained on a spot just above Grant’s eyebrows, Randy waited for permission. He knew what needed to be done, although this wasn’t for him to decide. “Brian, you need some help?”
He didn’t have an answer. Brian knew what had to happen; he just wasn’t ready to do it. He kept his focus on Grant and as another convulsion began, he waved Randy away. “Go back to the others and give me a few minutes.”
Marching away, Randy scanned the area and upon reaching the highway, slid the nine millimeter pistol back into his waistband. He started back toward the SUV as Mason stood by the truck window conversing with Jack.
Motioning for Mason to join him, Randy stopped twenty feet out from the SUV.
“Well,” Mason said as he approached. “I assume you found him and it wasn’t good.”
“Yep.”
“Bitten?”
“Yeah, multiple times.”
“Brian’s taking care of it?”
“Yes,” Randy said. “He wanted me out of there before he did it. I’m not sure why. We’ve been through this before. I guess this one may have been a bit more personal. It sounds like Grant made him promise to do it if he ever turned.”
Mason put his hand on Randy’s shoulder. “We need to get moving.”
“We do,” Randy said. “But… Mason?”
“Yeah?”
“If that ever happens, I mean you know if I ever get attacked or bitten, you know I want it to be you. I want you to make sure I never walk this earth like one of those things, ever. Can you do that for me? It has to be you and no one else.”
“Hey,” Mason said. “Isn’t this something we can discuss another—”
“No, I never wanna be like that, not even for a second. It’s pretty simple. When the time comes, just do me that favor. Okay?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Turning to walk back, the passenger door of the truck sat partially open and Jack’s body lay face down on the asphalt.
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His third convulsion in as many minutes and Grant had finally begun his journey to the other side. His eyes heavy and his words slower now, he gripped Brian’s wrist. “Thank you for being a friend, my last friend on this earth. Thank you for keeping our group together and safe, even when no one believed in you. Thank you for saving my life, even when I begged you not to. I lived more in this past year than in all the others combined.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you last night.” Brian looked back toward the highway before continuing. “Things shouldn’t have turned out the way they did. I’m sorry I trusted those people down there. You and the others deserved better. I promise, at some point I’ll make up for it.”
He began to cough and the taste of blood in his mouth foretold the next few minutes. Grant reached down and pulled Brian’s hand, along with the weapon his friend was holding, to his own forehead. “Brian, do you remember the day you found me and what I was doing?”
“Yes, I do.”
“That is the memory I want to have as I leave here. I don’t want you to wait until I turn. Do it now so I can die on my own terms, with the thoughts of that day still inside me. Please.”
As Brian fingered the trigger, he closed his eyes. The images of that day came rushing back as he fought back his tears.
The scene playing out along the shore that morning couldn’t have been further from what was being reported. Brian and his crew of six hadn’t been home in over ninety days and although the current catch was record-breaking, he sat in the harbor for two full days before docking.
Out of fuel and food, they sat just outside the break watching the world fall apart. The first twenty four hours contained many of the unspeakably graphic images that would forever occupy his dreams. Scared and unable to think of an alternative, three of the men whose family remained inland decided to swim to sh
ore. They reached the dock unharmed and disappeared into the diminishing crowds.
Just beyond the seaside wharf and not more than one hundred yards from the ocean arose the manmade monoliths that made up the perimeter of the now overwhelmed city. The ten story buildings shadowed the landscape and looked out of place against the backdrop of the ocean.
After watching a middle-aged businessman fall from a seventh story rooftop in the distance, Brian dropped the binoculars into his lap. Moments later, after his curiosity got the better of him, he turned his attention back to where the body should have been motionless on the concrete. Not only had that same businessman pulled himself to a standing position, he’d now begun chasing after unsuspecting citizens. Within seconds, he dragged down an elderly gentleman and began ripping apart the man’s flesh, one horrific handful at a time.
These images and others much like it played out for the next few days. Brian and the three remaining men took a break from watching the streets and talked over plans for getting off the boat. Hungry and at the end of their rope, they knew their options were limited.
Heading back out to sea wasn’t going to happen, at least not today and probably not anytime soon. Brian figured that they needed to get into the city to at least find out what was taking place and why these people were attacking one another.
Every radio station had gone off the air by the end of the first day. Making any sense of the things happening less than a mile away would require leaving the safety of their floating home and entering what he and his men figured hell would look like.
Although the streets now appeared fairly quiet, save for the random unprovoked attack, the time to go wouldn’t get any more opportune. Having drifted close enough to the docks to make the swim less than one hundred feet, Brian jumped first.
Three splashes later and the four men became a blur of arms and legs swimming furiously toward the unknown. Brian was the third to reach the platform and within minutes they stood with their backs to the ocean, building the courage to head into the city.
Peering at his watch, Brian motioned toward the sky. “We’ve got maybe another three hours before the sun drops beyond the horizon. I’m going to try to get home before dark. I have no idea what’s really happened here and why all those people are attacking one another, but I’m sure not waiting around to find out. No time for long goodbyes, so I wish you all the best and hope to see you again. We’ll regroup once this thing is over. Take care guys.”
Not knowing that would be the last time he’d ever see these men, Brian turned and headed for his truck. As the first few deranged attackers rounded the seven story office building and moved into the parking lot, two of his men still hadn’t made it to their vehicles.
The first man, Alan, weaved his way between the many compact sedans, fuel efficient hybrids, and SUVs before reaching his own vehicle. Just ahead of a woman limping away from the crowd, he fumbled for his keys and as she approached from behind, he found the remote and unlocked the driver’s side door.
Jumping into the driver’s seat and firing up the engine, Brian blasted his horn, although for his friend it was too late. The man he’d worked with for the last four years was pulled from his car before he had a chance to close the door. The disturbed woman was joined by three others as they clawed and scratched their way through his wet clothing and within seconds into his flesh.
Brian turned away as the gruesome scene played out. Shifting into drive and envisioning the route he’d take out of the long-term parking lot, he noticed the crowd turning their attention away from Alan.
Back to his horn, he attempted to this time warn Stan and Ralph as they sprinted toward the gate. Again too late, Brian slammed the gas pedal to the floorboard and approached the crowd from the rear. Within thirty feet of his friends, he plowed into the crowd of more than two dozen.
The sensation of running over a human body was something he never figured he’d experience, although these weren’t human. His first indication that something was different about these rabid individuals came as the forward motion of his oversized pickup truck was halted.
His right foot still pinning down the gas pedal, the truck was at a standstill. Brian checked his rearview mirror to find two battered bodies crawling out from under the tailgate and beginning to stand. Once in a semi-erect position, they were so destroyed that he’d be guessing if asked to determine gender.
As the pair started toward the cab and three others emerged from the rear, his truck leapt forward and into another vehicle. Brian slammed the truck into reverse as the woman who’d brought down his friend reached his door and began clawing at the window. She looked dead.
Pressing her face into the glass, he finally saw what the city was dealing with. The skin around her mouth and nose had been torn away and blood ran down her neck, disappearing into her once cream colored blouse. From less than twelve inches, he looked into her milky white eyes and as she stared back, she seemed to be looking through him. No emotion, only murderous intent.
His truck, wedged between the mounting horde and the car to his right, Brian shifted back into drive and looked for an opening. Another half dozen rabid men and women entered the parking lot, followed closely by yet another seven. With his foot on the brake, Brian cranked the steering wheel to the left. He held it in place with one hand and with the other; he reached below his driver’s seat.
Pulling out the hidden nine millimeter handgun, Brian said to himself, “Okay, here we go.”
Placing the truck into park, he slid into the passenger seat and checked the right side of the lot as another three attackers moved toward the truck. Staggering toward him at a pace much quicker than he’d thought possible; their unyielding concentration was momentarily broken.
Moving back into the driver’s seat and staring into the falling sun, his exit plan revealed itself.
Five floors above the paved walkway and only a few hundred feet away, the building on the opposite side of the street exploded. A late model personal copy machine, followed by thousands of irregular sized pieces of tempered glass, rained down onto the street.
Within seconds, a man dressed in a smoke tattered business suit stood at the opening. He didn’t look down; he simply stared out into the marbled blue sky and began to leap.
With the crowd’s attention now focused on the building across the street, Brian opened the driver’s door and stepped out. “HEY.”
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Stepping back toward the truck as his shoes still dripped water, Brian carefully calculated every step. Slipping on a wet patch of concrete usually meant a bruised knee or a strained muscle. Today it would cost a bit more, possibly his life. Reaching back and finding the door handle, he watched the inquisitive crowd as he stepped back into the truck.
His window down, he shifted back into drive and moved slowly through the crowd as the man five floors above shouted back. “Get out of the city. Those things are everywhere.”
Rolling the truck out of the lot and into the street, Brian pled with the man about to end his life. “If you can get to the street, I’ll get both of us outta here.”
The man shook his head. “No, just leave me. I don’t want your help. Just go.”
This wouldn’t work for Brian. He’d failed every one of his men and hadn’t even begun to process the loss of the last three. There was no doubt he was going to save this man, even if he had to climb the side of the building and bring him down himself. “I’m not leaving you. You’re getting out of here and so am I.”
Again from above the man shouted, “It won’t work, there are too many of them. Just go, everyone else is already dead or gone.”
Pulling alongside the building and directly below the man ready to jump, Brian persisted. “I’m not going anywhere. I need you to get to the first floor.”
As the crowd grew closer, Brian looked up and the man was gone. He quickly scanned the sky and then the street. No sign of where he’d gone. A moment later, it hit him. Brian spoke to himself. “He’s coming d
own, but he won’t make it out the front door, not like this.”
Slowly backing away from the building, Brian drew the crowd back into the parking lot. One eye on the entrance to the building across the street, he maneuvered to the back of the lot and waited for the last of those things to move into the yard. “Come on.”
“Five. Four. Three. Two. Oh no—”
The man from five floors above moved through the double glass doors and into the street. Waving his arms, he hurried from one end of the building to the other, attempting to avoid the few sub-humans that remained outside the gates.
The man’s mouth was moving, although at this distance the words were muted. Brian had no idea what the man was shouting, although he had a good idea what he wanted. Back in drive, Brian hit the gas and started out of the yard. Bodies were glancing off the left and right sides of the truck, the sensation similar to that of an out of control roller coaster.
As he exited the lot and turned into the street, the now frantic man was already heading toward him. Brian pushed forward again and skidded to a stop just a few feet from the sidewalk. The man rounded the front of the truck and stood at the passenger door, furiously pulling at handle. “Are you kidding me? Unlock the door!”
Leaning over, Brian opened the door and watched the man from the building hop inside. The smell of scorched plastic and three-day-old sweat filled the cabin as the door slammed and Brian pulled away from the sidewalk.
“So, you tell me you want to help and then just let me fend for myself out there with those monsters. Was that some kind of joke?”
“I’m Brian and I’m sorry about that. I was trying to pull them away from the building, so when you came out—”
The man didn’t immediately respond. His head back and forth on a swivel from the side mirror to the rear window and back again, he watched the street as they moved further into the city. As the horde disappeared into the late afternoon sun, he turned back to Brian. “What, what did you say?”