Shelly nodded. “At least now we know why she was taped up.”
“Yeah, no shit,” he breathed hard as she squirmed under him. “Maybe next time they could leave a note.” He smiled wanly at her.
Shelly glanced away and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Hatch. This is my screw-up.”
“You took the brunt of it, Shell.” He hitched his chin at her. “At least she didn’t scar that pretty face, eh?” He winked at her and shot her one of those smiles that made her knees go weak. He always knew how to find the right thing to say…how to find that silver lining. She smiled back at him and got up to go to the bathroom.
“Wow, my head is killing me. Maybe I can find the aspirin or ibuprofen,” she muttered as she staggered out and toward the bathroom.
As the girl continued to struggle under the comforter and screech at him, Hatcher managed to get her hands bound once more. She fought him every inch of the way, and by the time he was done, he was exhausted and dripping with sweat. Hatch stood up and surveyed the girl. Her ankles were still taped, her hands were bound. He didn’t have any tape to tape her mouth shut and the tape he had removed was wadded into a ball and dirtied with hair that had been ripped from her head.
“Maybe I can just shove that damned pillow case in your mouth,” he mused.
Hatcher pulled the comforter out from under her and draped it over her prone form and was surprised that she quieted almost instantly. He watched her for a moment, then shook his head. “I’ll be back for you,” he promised.
He turned and flipped the light out as he walked out of the bedroom. Pulling the door shut behind him, he stuck his head into the bathroom and wasn’t surprised that Shelly had already finished.
He walked to the door of the giant coach and stepped out into the cool night air. “She’s hogtied and…” he trailed off as his eyes scanned the campsite.
He looked from his own ATV to Shelly’s and back. Hatcher walked to the front of the huge motorcoach and stared off toward the road.
“Shelly?” he called into the night. He walked to the road and went to the crest of the hill. Looking down the road in both directions, he yelled, “Shelly!”
Hatcher stood in the road for a few moments and listened for a reply. There was nothing. He turned and looked back at the coach and the two ATVs sitting in front of it. “Where the hell did you get off to?” As he walked back, his footfalls crunching in the gravel was the only sound he could hear.
Hatcher opened the door to the coach and stuck his head in once again, “Shelly?” he called. Silence was his only answer.
Hatcher stepped back to the ATV and went to his plastic trunk. It hadn’t even been opened. Hatcher pulled his radio and keyed it, calling for Shelly. He listened for a moment then called for her again, his only reply static.
Daniel Hatcher leaned against his ATV and suddenly felt very tired. He replayed the events of the night. The campgrounds they had encountered, the events that the older couple had told them, the way the girl acted…Shelly being scratched.
Hatcher fought back a shudder as his mind raced. There is no way she could have been affected that quickly! He pushed himself away from the ATV and went back into the coach. Pushing his way back into the bedroom, he flipped on the light and threw back the cover from the girl. She lurched at him and snapped her teeth, trying to bite him.
The first thing that Hatcher noticed was her eyes. The color was all gone…rather, it had been replaced with ruby red. Check that! Blood-red.
The girl snarled and snapped her teeth so hard he feared she might break them. Oddly, that didn’t hurt his feelings at all. Hatcher placed his hiking boot upon her chest and pushed her down to her back. She tried to roll to either side, her neck still craning to bite him, but he stood over her and stared.
“Did you infect my friend?” he asked quietly while the girl continued to snarl. Hatcher pulled his pistol and aimed it at her face. “Answer me, you bitch!”
The girl’s reaction didn’t change when he put the barrel of his pistol to her forehead. She tried to bite at his hand a few times, but the weapon meant absolutely nothing to her. Hatcher sighed and stood back up. “You don’t understand a word I’m saying, do you?” He watched as she continued to snap and snarl at him.
“Fuck,” he muttered as he re-holstered his weapon. He pulled the comforter back over her then flipped off the light as he left once more.
Hatcher’s jaw was set as he mounted his ATV. He stared off toward where the concert had been going, then realized he couldn’t hear the music. Could it be over? He pulled his radio and tried to raise the mobile unit. He got only static. He tried to raise the deputies on duty. Again, only static. With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, he switched to the park’s radio frequency and tried to raise anybody. He held his breath as he waited for a response, and felt his eyes almost begin to water as only static came from his radio.
Hatcher started the ATV and gunned the accelerator. Whatever happened, he had to see it himself.
Mitch was still smiling as he watched the big-breasted crazy bitch light up in the muzzle flash of his weapon’s discharge. That smile was short-lived as he watched her duck and roll at the last moment, his bullet just grazing her shoulder. He followed her movements with the front site, but held himself from pulling the trigger. How the fuck does she duck a bullet? he asked himself as he spun in a quick circle.
Mitch lowered himself and, while tracking her, he noted those of her kind that had come to surround the clearing. He did bring the barrel to bear on the few that made their ugly faces shown and he gladly put a bullet in their foreheads, dropping them where they stood, but there were plenty more lurking in the shadows he couldn’t clearly make out. His guts twisted with the knowing feeling that his goose was cooked.
Mitch began working his way back through the brush and the way he had come, his eyes rapidly scanning the area for any kind of movement he might consider a threat. As figures dashed from one area to another, he brought the pistol to bear on them and fired on the ones he felt confident enough to drop. He paused to gain his bearings and heard another ear-shattering scream pulling his attention further behind him. He spun and pulled his weapon up to find a man, dressed as a deputy sheriff, gnawing on a human arm.
Mitch found the scene surreal somehow, as there was little to no blood, except around the deputy’s mouth. The deputy was shambling toward him and paused when he spied Mitch in his path. He lowered the arm from his mouth and tilted his head as he assessed Mitch. First one side, then the other, his head tilted, as though the angle might somehow help him figure out what this overly large man was.
Mitch raised the weapon to arm’s length and pointed directly at the deputy’s face. “Don’t do it…” he groaned.
The deputy’s red eyes widened and he opened his mouth to shriek when Mitch put a bullet in the middle of it, dropping him like a switch had been flipped. The deputy’s legs twitched for a moment, then lay still as Mitch studied the shadows. He noted that many of the sprinting shadows had stopped and were now turning back to his direction. On his left, an older woman stepped through a dense bush, her head tilting to the side as she assessed him. Mitch didn’t hesitate as he raised the weapon and took aim on her head. He dropped her before she cleared the thicket. When she fell, one leg still lay sprawled up, stuck in the middle of the thick bramble.
Movement to his right caught his attention and he quickly turned and watched a young man bounce from one tree trunk to another and land just feet from him, his nose high in the air, sniffing rapidly. Mitch raised his weapon and took the top of his head off before he could scream as well.
Mitch pulled his knife and kept it in his free hand. Things were about to get ugly, and, should another of these things try to tackle him, he wanted to be ready. He took a half-squat position to lower his center of gravity and scanned the area more quickly. He watched as an older man sprung from behind a large tree trunk, his head jerking around like a bird. With quick aim, Mitch shot twice. His first
round removed his lower jaw and the second took off the top right portion of his face.
Although his ears were ringing from the weapon’s reports, Mitch could hear the limbs breaking and the twigs snapping as more and more people closed in on his position. He couldn’t keep track of them all in the shadowy darkness under the tree’s canopy, and the lack of moonlight only made things worse. He continued to back up toward the hill and the way he came as more would-be attackers broke into his line of sight. Some still carried with them body parts of their victims, some were simply covered in blood, presumably from previous snacks. Mitch dispatched each one with due diligence.
More and more shadows were closing in on his position as Mitch turned and ran as fast as his feet could carry him. He knew there were a lot more of them in the woods, and he had limited ammunition. He turned his face toward the hill ahead of him and prayed that whatever decided to chase him wasn’t as fast as the naked woman. He knew where his strengths lay and speed wasn’t one of them.
He tried to remember his breathing exercises as he pumped his legs as hard as they would push him. On occasion, he thought he picked up a moving shadow in his peripheral vision, which only spurred another spurt of exertion. Mitch could feel himself starting to tire as something brushed his back. In his mind’s eye, he pictured one of the bloody hands from the crazy people down the hill, and, finally, his adrenaline kicked in.
With extreme clarity, Mitch’s mind focused on the task at hand. He dropped and rolled to the side, allowing the would-be attacker to gain on him and stumble ahead while Mitch rolled back to his feet. With the knife still in his hand, he leaped forward and brought the knife down in an overhand strike, driving the blade to the hilt through the man’s skull. Mitch maintained a vice-like grip on the handle and twisted the knife while he rode the man to the ground, his knee shattering the spine between the shoulder blades.
Mitch pulled the knife free and assumed a low tactical stance in order to dispatch any other pursuers. As each came up the hill after him, he’d either spin to the side and drive the blade into their eye socket as they lunged for him, or duck and weave while putting the front site of his sidearm on their passing head and putting a round into them as they passed by. As Mitch rode out his adrenaline rush, time slowed down and he watched his attackers move in slow motion. He could anticipate their every move three steps before they made it.
He changed magazines once during the attack and when he finally felt that those who had chased him up the hill had been dealt with, he stood and looked at the bodies lying scattered about him, victims of his macabre dance. Blood ran down his arm and to the tip of the knife blade, dripping at his feet.
Mitch rose to his full height and rolled his head across his neck to pull the tension from it. He listened as intently as he could, the ringing from the gunfire having long been silenced. Slowly, he turned and surveyed the bodies. Just as he feared, the naked woman wasn’t among the fallen. He paused among the dead and stole a glance back down the hill.
“We will meet again, you crazy bitch,” he promised.
Richard pushed the Jeep harder during the obviously gentler parts of the trail and slowed down considerably when the trail got tougher. Bill held on as best he could, but the bouncing ride sent him airborne more than once.
“Sorry!” Richard called out after a harder than normal bounce.
“Yeah, you might slow down a bit more on those,” Bill replied as he righted himself.
“They’re hard enough to see in the daylight. At night, they’re nearly impossible.” Richard’s grip on the steering wheel threatened to rip it from the column.
Bill kept glancing back and finally patted Richard on the shoulder. “I think we have enough distance. You can slow down.”
Richard shot him a sideways glance, then nodded. He exhaled heavily and his shoulders slumped visibly as he took his foot off the accelerator and coasted the Jeep nearly to a stop. “Sorry. My nerves are just about shot.” He held his hand out to show Bill and it trembled like a leaf. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
Bill slumped back in his seat and rubbed at his face. “Truth be told, I’ve seen a lot of things in my years, but that?” He hooked his thumb back behind them. “I’ve never seen anything even remotely close to that.”
“So, you’ve got no idea what that was?” Richard asked, now that things had calmed down. He goosed the Jeep again, crawling it over more rough terrain.
“Rich, I’ve heard of mass hysteria. I’ve seen people do some stupid stuff while on drugs. I’ve even seen some cult stuff,” he trailed off, scratching his head, “but that? That takes the cake.”
“They were all covered in blood,” Richard said softly, turning to Bill again. “Do you think they all got sick on something? Maybe attacked each other?”
Bill shook his head. “I have no idea.” He shrugged. “Maybe something like rabies or something?”
“Does it act that fast?”
“Not in dogs it doesn’t.” Bill rubbed at his eyes and tried to watch the road ahead. “Maybe this is a mutant strain or something.” He turned his face away and stared out the open window.
Richard glanced at him and slowed the Jeep again. “What?” he asked cautiously. “Bill, you’re thinking something. What is it?”
Bill shook his head. “It’s just a thought. Not a very good one at that.”
“Spill it,” Richard insisted as he slowed the Jeep nearly to a stop again, staring at him.
Bill inhaled deeply, a cleansing breath, to steel his reserve. “I was just thinking…what with the political climate the way it is. And with every Tom, Dick, and Harry out there trying to make chemical weapons…” he trailed off, allowing Richard to draw his own conclusions.
“Oh, my God. Biological warfare?”
Bill shrugged. “Maybe.”
“But…who? Why?”
“Who knows? North Korea doesn’t really like us. Neither does Iran. Or most of the Middle East. Who knows,” Bill said quietly as he checked his pistol absently.
“But this? Why not just poison or mustard gas or ricin or something that’s quicker?”
Bill shot him a quizzical look. “Hello? Terror? What’s more terrifying than a friend or loved one trying to kill you or worse?”
Richard’s eyes widened. “Oh…yeah. Okay.”
Richard stopped the Jeep and stretched his arms. “You mind driving for a bit? My shoulders are aching. Too much tension from escaping the park.”
“Sure.” Bill popped open the door and stepped out of the Jeep, tucking his pistol into the back of his pants. He really wished he had grabbed his main pack from the tent. It held his extra gear and accessories, but under the circumstances, he felt lucky they’d made it out alive.
Richard stepped out of the Jeep and stretched, then stepped toward the rear. He froze, then screamed, turned back, and ran toward the front of the Jeep. Bill had come across the front of the car and was momentarily blinded by the headlights. He pulled his pistol from his pants and brought it up. A figure of a man shambling from the rear of the little SUV came into view.
“Don’t move!” Bill called out as Richard passed him.
“Shoot him!” Richard called out. “He’s one of them!”
Bill allowed his eyes to glance to the side to ensure Richard stayed out of his line of sight and squared up on the man again. “I said, don’t move!” he yelled again, yet the man continued to shamble up toward them. Bill backed up a step, still unsure if the man was one of the crazy people or simply lost or hurt or…
Bill backed up until the man had to cross into the headlights. Once Bill saw his eyes, he knew, something was terribly amiss with this fellow. His lower jaw was missing, meat from one arm had been shredded to the bone, and his eyes were a deep, ruby red.
“Son of a…” Bill muttered as he brought his weapon back up.
“Shoot him!” Richard screamed from the cabin of the Jeep.
Bill took aim, center mass, and put two rounds into the
man’s chest. He watched the man stagger slightly, then pause. The man looked down at his chest, then up at Bill. He tilted his head and opened what was left of his mouth. The scream that came from him made the hair on Bill’s neck stand on end. But the worst part was the dust and dirt that came from his ruined mouth when he first started, and the bloody foam that ended the scream.
“Shoot him in the head!” Richard yelled.
Bill chanced a glance toward Richard, then leveled his pistol on the man’s face and fired. He seemed to stand a moment as if deciding what to do before he fell backward with a sickening thump.
Bill advanced slowly and kicked at him with his foot. The man appeared as though he had been dragged behind a horse for miles. His shoes were missing, his pants and shirt were shredded, and his skin had deep lacerations. His lower jaw was a mess.
Bill looked up at Richard and shook his head. “He ain’t getting back up.”
“Good!” Richard yelled. “I nearly pissed myself when that asshole came from behind the car!”
Bill cocked his head a moment. “Behind the…hold on.”
Bill walked to the rear of the Jeep and saw the bloody smears along the tow hitch and rear bumper. Apparently, somewhere along the way, this guy had got close enough to grab hold and they had dragged him this far. Bill shuddered when he thought of the possibilities…if they had continued on all the way to Richard’s house? If this guy had held on the entire way?
Bill went to the side of the Jeep and got down on all fours. Using his flashlight, he checked under the vehicle, just to be sure. All clear.
Getting into the Jeep, he looked to Richard, “Believe it or not, we dragged him up here.” He hooked a thumb back toward the rear of the vehicle. “That asshole was hanging on to the tow hitch the whole time.”
“Holy cow,” Richard muttered. “Tough son-of-a-bitch.”
Bill smirked. “You could say that.” He patted Richard’s shoulder. “You could also say you almost had an uninvited house guest.”
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