by Mark Gordon
Chapter 70
Into the Daylight
Matt, Montana and Dylan stood in the frigid water and studied the creatures. “Ugly fuckers, aren’t they?” stated Dylan.
The group of feeders hadn’t moved from their position since they had jumped into the water almost an hour ago. Their patience was as surprising as it was terrifying.
“I thought they would have been bored with us by now and gone back to their nests to sleep.”
“I wonder how long they’ll stay there?” asked Matt.
“Longer than us, that’s for sure,” said Montana. “I can’t stay in this freezing water forever. If we don’t get out at some point, we’ll eventually just die from the cold. Isn’t there a way we can get rid of them?”
“You know what I’ve been wondering?” asked Matt, shivering.
“What?”
“Why are there only a dozen of them? We’ve seen thousands of them in the caves today, but only a few dozen appeared after the explosion? Why?”
“I have a theory,” replied Dylan.
“Let’s hear it,” urged Matt.
“Okay. You remember how Sally said that the feeders seemed to be developing a social structure, even after only the second night? The prominence of the alpha male and all that?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“Well what if it’s more advanced now?”
“What do you mean?” asked Montana.
“Well, when the bomb went off, maybe the creatures that survived, all the ones in the other caves, sensed danger and didn’t want to put themselves at risk. Maybe they just sent out a warrior team.”
Matt shivered and looked at Dylan. “Really? You think they have roles now? Maybe they have doctors too, and teachers?”
“No need to be a smartass Matt. Think about how much these things have changed since they turned. It’s all about survival for them, just like it is for us. They’ll find ways to increase their odds, and maybe one way is by practicing damage limitation. Somehow they have a whole new set of instincts, just like they seem to have a whole new biology.”
Montana spoke.
“Listen Matt, that makes as much sense as anything. All of those freaks watching us look like males to me. Maybe Dylan’s right, so let’s go with that theory for now. One other thing we need to think about, though. What happens when all of the bombs detonate in an hour or so? This whole cave system could collapse, couldn’t it?”
“It’s a possibility. We really need to get out of here soon. The caves might not hold up as well as they did the first time.”
“Okay guys,” said Dylan, “It’s time to make a move. Does everyone still have their handguns?”
“God I forgot about them!” exclaimed Matt, as he and Montana groped around under the water for their pistols. “Still got mine!”
“Me too!” said Montana, holding her weapon above the water.
Dylan showed them his pistol and shook the water out of the barrel.
“I don’t know if these will work if they’re wet, but we have to hope we can either shoot those things or at least scare them off so we can make it to the car. Matt, you know guns, will these things still work?”
“Maybe. These are modern weapons, and I think that if the barrel is clear, they’ll fire even if they’re wet. Older weapons probably wouldn’t, but technology has improved a lot recently. I have to admit I’ve never tried it though. Why didn’t you think of this before?”
“I just kept hoping the feeders would leave us alone when they got bored. There’s also a risk that gunfire will attract more of the creatures, so I kept my idea to myself. I don’t think we can wait any longer now, though. We’re getting too cold, the bombs will detonate soon, and we’re losing daylight. What do you think? Will we go for it?”
Montana answered through slightly blue, quivering lips, “Let’s shoot those freaks and run for it! I cannot stay in this water another minute! Matt?”
“Let’s give it a go. What’s the plan?”
“Okay, let’s nominate our first few targets so we’re not all aiming at the same creature. Once we start shooting, who knows what they’ll do? They may run away or they may overcome their fear of water and attack us. We have to be ready for anything. Check that your gun is as dry as possible and the safety is off.”
Dylan looked at his friends as his whole body shook with the cold. “If we don’t get out of this one, it’s been a real pleasure knowing you both. Good luck”.
“We’ll be fine,” said Matt. “Let’s be positive.”
Montana looked at the boys, but from either the cold or the fear, was unable to speak. She lifted her weapon and aimed it at the nearest feeder. Matt and Dylan chose their targets and levelled their weapons, ready to fire. The feeders maintained their unnerving vigil, their eyes almost glowing in the semi-darkness. If they got an opportunity the beasts would brutally kill and eat the three survivors with ruthless efficiency so there would be no turning back from this strategy. Failure to defeat this band of feeder warriors and get to the car would result in death. Of that they were certain.
“Okay guys," Dylan ordered. "When I get to three, start shooting.”
The feeders didn’t take their eyes from the trio, and, despite the fact they had retained some faint traces of memories from their previous lives as humans, the guns elicited no recognition in their pallid, malevolent faces.
“One,” said Dylan, nodding towards his friends.
“Two.”
His hand was shaking from the cold as it drew a bead on his first target.
“Three!” he yelled, pulling on the trigger.
The noise in the cave was deafening, as three pistols boomed out in unison and the heads of two feeders blew apart, showering the rock wall behind them in a viscous, purplish splash. The response from the feeders was as quick as lightning, as the trio continued to fire their weapons at the group. The creatures that hadn’t been hit were now escaping like phantoms into the passageway that would lead them out of the cave and to safety. The plan had worked.
“Stop shooting!” yelled Matt, “Stop shooting!” he repeated, as the last of feeders disappeared into the gloom of the tunnel, leaving their brethren behind, dead or writhing in mortal anguish on the cave floor.
“Let’s get moving!” screamed Dylan, already wading towards the edge of the pool. “Those things won’t be scared off for long!”
He was the first to clamber out of the water, and reached down to help Montana out, before grabbing Matt by the collar of his shirt, and hoisting him out onto the damp, cavern floor. While Matt and Montana scrambled to their feet, Dylan walked over to where the injured feeders were laying and calmly shot them in the head.
“Best to be sure,” he spat, before heading purposefully towards the exit, as the others followed.
“I need to have a quick look around before we step outside,” said Dylan. “But as soon as I see that the coast is clear, we hightail it to the car, okay?”
“Yep,” agreed Matt.
“Hurry up then,” urged Montana, shaking violently.
Dylan held his gun out in front of him as he moved out into the afternoon sunshine. He checked right and left for rogue feeders, before quickly scanning the bush that surrounded the car park like a giant amphitheatre.
“Looks like we scared them off,” he said to the others, who were right behind him now, guns still drawn. “But lets not take any chances okay? Full sprint, then get straight into the car. I’ll drive. Are you ready?”
Matt and Montana nodded.
“Let’s go then.”
They all ran as fast as they could towards the car, while scrutinizing the forest around them for danger. Their legs were cramped from being immersed in cold water for so long, and their feet were slipping around awkwardly inside their wet shoes, but they made it to the car without incident and scrambled in, pulling the doors behind them frantically. Dylan turned the key in the ignition and, as Matt and Montana looked back through the rear window for stra
y feeders, Dylan hammered the accelerator and the Landcruiser raced out of the car park, spewing up a shower of loose gravel behind it.
“Whoohoooooo!” screeched Montana, turning back to the front and smacking Dylan on the shoulder as they left the car park and joined the road that would take them out of the valley.
“We did it! We did it! Those fuckers won’t know what’s hit them! Beautiful!”
“Yeah, we did good!” beamed Dylan. “Now let’s get home for dinner. I’m starving!”
Matt leaned over the back seat and pulled Montana close, before kissing her with a passion that came from having survived a close brush with death. She closed her eyes and cherished the warmth of his mouth, so alive and soft, so full of promise. She pulled him closer and buried her face into his neck, treasuring the vitality of his sweat. “I love you Matt,” she whispered.
He pulled away from her embrace and looked at her beautiful face, beaming with joy. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Dylan screaming, “Feeders! Feeders!”
It was another group of warriors, maybe twenty in total, streaming from a path in the forest and onto the road in front of their car about forty metres ahead.
“Keep going!” yelled Matt, “Floor it!”
“No kidding!” responded Dylan, as he pushed his foot to the floor. “Buckle up kids!”
In seconds, the car had reached the gang of creatures that seemed to have no goal other than to sacrifice themselves, to stop the car from getting through. They charged ahead with fury in their eyes and no concern for self-preservation as the car bore down upon them.
The impact was unavoidable and brutal, and as the two closest creatures crunched violently into the front of the car and were crushed under its wheels, a third rolled up onto the hood of the vehicle, before sliding down onto the road where it lay twitching like a beached fish. Matt and Montana had only a split second to register the expressions of loathing and hatred on the other feeders’ faces, as they slid rapidly by the car’s windows, before turning and disappearing back into the bush, like spirits.
“Oh shit! They really hate us don’t they?” cried Montana, as she peered fearfully through the windows for further signs of danger.
“That was fucking intense man! Holy shit! They’re so fucking dumb!” yelled Dylan triumphantly.
“Hey, we’re not safe yet,” Matt reminded them. “Let’s just get out of here and go home.”
-
Forty minutes later they had reached the first houses on the outskirts of Carswell, when Dylan pulled the car over.
“What’s wrong?” asked Matt.
“The car’s overheating. We need to check it out.”
Dylan popped the hood, and they all peered into the engine bay as steam rose ominously from the radiator.
“Looks like those feeders we hit got the last laugh,” he stated sourly. “We’ve got a leak somewhere.”
“Is it fixable?” asked Montana.
”Not in the time we have before it gets dark. We could refill the water in the radiator, but we may only make it halfway home. It’s too risky. I don’t want to be stranded on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere after dark. We’ll have to find another car, or hole up somewhere safe here for the night.”
“I don’t like our chances of finding another car,” said Matt, “Look around”.
“Shit!” spat Dylan. There were only four cars visible in the deserted streets, and each was nothing more than a burnt out shell. “The marauders have been through Carswell destroying resources, I’d say.”
“But why?” asked Montana, scared now of being stranded in the town that held so many painful memories.
“Who knows?” Dylan responded. “Maybe the marauders have a stockpile of vehicles over at the school, and they want some kind of advantage over travellers passing through. A lot of people would just be swapping their vehicle for another as their fuel runs out or as their car breaks down. If they try to do it here, and there aren’t any vehicles to take, they’re stranded and the marauders have them at their mercy. It’s a primitive way of controlling the place. I bet you won’t find much food around the place either.” He paused, and then added, “Or maybe they’re just destroying things for fun.”
“What are we going to do then?” asked Matt. “We can’t just stand here. It’ll be getting dark in an hour or so.”
The three friends stood on the road as the sun moved slowly towards the western horizon. Matt had his arm around Montana as they stared at their disabled vehicle, almost willing it to repair itself. Dylan slammed the hood of the car down. “Okay, we need to get this car out of sight and find somewhere to stay for the night. Any ideas?”
Neither Matt nor Montana had an opportunity to answer, however, before the sound of rumbling motorcycles had them reaching for their pistols as they jumped back into the car to try to find a place to hide. Dylan quickly started the engine, as the roar of the bikes grew louder outside. He shifted wildly into first gear and started to pull away while Matt and Montana screamed encouragement from the backseat, but even before he had reached top gear, he had to stop the car, as marauders, mostly on motorcycles, swarmed across the road in front of them as three large SUVs lurched into the road behind them from side streets. Perched on the roofs of the marauders’ vehicles, in specially constructed turrets, were thugs aiming large weapons at them. Dylan, Matt and Montana sat trapped in their car, paralysed by fear and realising that this was not the time or place to make a stand. They could neither outrun them, nor fight their way out of this mess.
“This is not good,” stated Dylan, somewhat obviously.
“Not good at all,” agreed Matt, as three marauders climbed slowly from their choppers and walked towards the Landcruiser.
“Try not to look nervous, keep calm, and use your brains. It’s our only chance,” said Matt, as the first marauder, who was all dirt, hair and leather, stepped up to the driver’s side door and drove the butt of his shotgun through the window, showering Dylan with tiny glass beads.
“Get out motherfuckers! You have three seconds! One... Two...”