The Orphans (Book 2): Surviving the Turned

by Evans, Mike

  He punched the release, flailing his arms wildly as he dropped to the ground. He kicked his legs then tucked and rolled upon impact. Once he was on his feet, he looked over his shoulder to see what might be coming from behind then sprinted toward the tree line, letting his chute blow across the field. He gripped his rifle, kept himself low as he ran into the woods, and melted into the trees and grass. He tripped at the edge of the tree line, scraping his face and cutting his cheek. Clare ripped the glove from his hand with his teeth and touched his fingers to his cheek. When he pulled his hand away to look at it, he saw his hand was covered with a respectable amount of blood.

  In the near distance, he saw Gowland pulling hard on his rig, trying not to get to the ground any faster than he needed to. As the mob got underfoot, they jumped the difference of fifteen feet, gripped his legs and feet, and pulled themselves quickly hand over hand up onto him. He was helpless; he pulled out his pistol from its holster and shot a few in the chest, but he might as well have been throwing the bullets with his bare hands for all the good it did. The force of the bullets almost knocked them off of him, but unfortunately for Gowland, “almost” wasn’t good enough.

  The Turned attacked him like wild animals, biting and tearing at his legs and thighs, ripping chunks of flesh off as they worked their way up. He screamed in pain, emptying the pistol; out of bullets, he gripped it by the barrel with his gloved hand, hitting them in the face with everything he had, but within seconds five of the Turned had ripped his cheeks and nose away from his face; he gurgled on his own blood as it poured into his mouth. They tore into his lips and forehead, greedy for the next bite.

  In the frenzy, the Turned ripped the cords connecting Gowland to the parachute, sending them all to the ground, where he was greeted with open arms. The fifteen Turned beneath him had been waiting for that moment with mouths open, ready for the taste of his warm blood to grace their tongues.

  Clare hit his neck radio, speaking into it rapidly. “Sir, come in, sir; they got Gowland! They got Gowland, for god’s sake; you need to abandon the drop zone you’re aiming for. These freaks are… they are… I don’t know what they are, but whatever they changed into it sure as hell ain’t human, sir.”

  He saw the men a few hundred yards up and heard Phelps shout to the others, “They got Gowland! They fucking got Gowland. We need to drop in somewhere else—that space is hot!”

  Clare watched as his support circled around, headed in the opposite direction, and floated behind the tree line. He hit his mic, realizing any help he was going to have would be a quarter to a half mile away. “Sir, orders, sir what do you want me to do? I need directions.”

  “Son, you don’t need directions. You need to keep your mouth shut and stay alive. We’re going to make our way down there, but we’re going to do it slow and right, son. If you get into hot shit, double tap your mic. Can you see Gowland? Do you have visual confirmation of him?”

  Clare peered around a tree; he did get a visual confirmation on the soldier, but it was not what he expected to see. Clare watched in awe as Gowland got to his feet. His entrails were in his way and he ripped them out, throwing them aside. He fell into step with the rest of the Turned, his eyes bleeding, and he started gnawing on his own arm, tearing a chunk out of it. Clare bent down next to the tree and whatever he had enjoyed for lunch was no longer with him.

  He hit his mic, praying but knowing that any chance of this coming out good were probably non-existent. “Sir… sir.”

  Phelps’ voice came through. “It’s me, Clare, what the hell are you doing, son? Shoot those goddamn things!”

  The now Turned Gowland walked in circles with the rest of the Turned, looking for the source of the sound invading their ears. They started to sniff slowly and then faster, as if their nose was telling them there was something delicious and that there would be a reward for them if they continued looking for it.

  Clare stopped hitting the mic and watched as they seemed to be sniffing and looking his way. He felt his face again, remembering the blood and realizing that those freaks could smell it. He aimed his rifle, waiting and trying to keep his cool, but with every step they took closer to him, that became more difficult. “Sir, they’re moving this way. Gowland got infected, sir, after he was bitten.”

  “Then don’t fucking get bit; get your ass moving. Do you have anywhere you can go?”

  Clare looked behind him at the mountain-like dirt cliff side he’d landed next to and realized those things would be on him before he could make any distance up the hill. He laughed because he couldn’t do anything else; the only thing he could think was how he had been told the Midwest was one of the flattest places in America. He couldn’t remember who told him that, but he now hated this person—very much. He shouldered his rifle, knowing it would be better to start shooting while he still had some distance between him and whatever the hell these things were. He couldn’t figure out, for the life of him, how the government scientists could cure something like Gowland, who had his guts hanging from his waist.

  Clare couldn’t bring himself to fire upon Gowland first; he picked the closest of them that he could and squeezed the trigger, firing straight through its heart. Blood and pieces of heart painted the golden hay-covered field behind it. Clare watched it, amazed that its legs didn’t even buckle. He fired a second round into its heart and a third; it looked down, unaware of what was happening. He hit his mic one last time. “Sir, I just shot one of them in the chest and all it’s doing is putting its fingers to the wound and licking the blood from its hand.”

  “We’re on our way. You need to try and get away from there, or you need a goddamn miracle son, and you need it right the fuck now!”

  Clare looked up to the sky as if waiting for the clouds to part and for God himself reach down and take care of those damnations that were the devil’s gift to Earth.

  Chapter 11: Saviors

  Tina drove the truck in the direction of the field over which the plane had dropped the large vehicle from the cargo door. They had not gone far when Patrick shouted something about parachutes and men; she slammed on the brakes, which caused Patrick to slam into the back window of the truck. Ellie and Greg hit the electric windows to go down and they watched as six figures made their slow descent toward the ground. Tina yelled, “What do you want me to do? There are Turned out in that field! There has got to be twenty-five or thirty of them.”

  Shaun and the others knew damn well that if these guys were getting dropped off, more than likely they were getting picked back up. Shaun pointed to the middle of the field and said, “Park over there.”

  Tina said sarcastically, “Wait, you want me to drive into a field with the freaks? That sounds great, Shaun. Can we please?”

  Shaun noted the sarcasm. “Well, I’m not stupid. If they come this way, we drive away; simple as that Tina!”

  Ellie thought back to earlier in the day, saying, “Yeah, because today has been nothing but simple, hasn’t it Shaun?”

  Shaun was done with the banter. “Damn it! Every second here is one less we’re going to have to help those poor guys. They might not know what they’re dealing with and we do, so go now.”

  He slammed the back of the seat, making everyone in the truck jump. There was an intensity about him that they had all learned to take seriously.

  As they sped along the bumpy field, they watched in horror as one of the two soldiers in view fell from the sky but were relieved when he rose back up and ran to the temporary safety of the woods. They watched the second man become a Turned smorgasbord and Shaun screamed, “Damn it! We could have saved him! We could have done something.”

  Shaun kicked open the door, carrying the rifle in one hand and the assault rifle in the other. He laid a rifle down then threw his pack on the ground, arranging the hearing protection quickly and then sighted in with the high-powered rifle. Greg came in next to him, mimicking his actions, and Shaun screamed, “One, then you, and then me. We gotta help that guy.”

  Pat
rick yelled from the bed of the truck, “What do you guys want all of us to do?”

  Shaun looked over his shoulder, verifying everyone was in the truck still, and yelled, “You’re already doing it; stay ready to leave. Who knows how this is going to play out.”

  Greg peered through his scope, whispering to Shaun, “This kind of feels like déjà vu, doesn’t it?”

  Shaun didn’t nod or answer; he was lost, sitting at a gun range years ago. He could still remember the cool air on his face and filling his lungs. He could still feel his dad’s hand on his back, calmly directing him how to aim and hit what he wanted to. “Remember, Shaunee, if you can’t keep your gun steady, the bullet won't go where we want it to, will it?”

  Shaun could hear his voice—a much younger voice—saying, “Breathe slow, sit still.” He squeezed the trigger, hitting the steel silhouette in the bulls-eye, and finishing the family saying, “Hit steel.”

  His dad pulled Shaun off the ground and gave him one of the last hugs he could remember before he disappeared into the night, shipped to Iraq. Greg punched him in the shoulder. The daydream of his father smiling and proud, spinning him in the air, vanished into nothing as Greg yelled, “Shaun, snap out of it! What the hell are you talking about, ‘shooting steel’?”

  Shaun blinked the memory away and looked through the scope. What he saw brought him full force back into reality. “Sorry; let’s begin on the Turned closest to the soldier and work our way back.”

  *****

  Clare had not seen the truck stop in the distance; he was too focused on the monsters in front of him. They seemed impossible to stop and when they were within twenty yards, Clare made the sign of the cross, coming to terms with his mortality and the fact that his life expectancy was probably getting shorter by the moment. He pulled the trigger, but there was no response. After releasing the empty magazine, he slammed another in its place.

  He brought the rifle back up, determined that if he was going to go down, he was going down fighting and not cowering, waiting to be eaten. With what he was sure was his final effort, he started to pull the trigger. The boom of a high-powered rifle, followed by another rifle, filled the valley. The head of the man he had been shooting in the heart exploded. Clare jumped back, and hid behind the tree, unsure if the fire was friendly or hostile. When he looked around the tree again, the monsters were still walking towards him, but with every shot fired, another one fell; the golden hay was turning red at an incredible pace. Clare saw that the shooter had gotten eight of them, but they were no longer walking toward him—they were walking toward a truck in the distance.

  *****

  Shaun saw the Turned coming their direction and their walk quickly became a full sprint. He patted Greg on the shoulder. “Hey, I think it’s time to get out of here. They’re coming like bats out of hell.”

  Greg yelled, “What about that guy in the woods?”

  A succession of shots went off, ten in all, and the Turned who had been coming their way were lying on the ground and unmoving, no longer a threat. They looked in the distance and heard growling and screaming of some type but were unsure where it was coming from. What they could see was a soldier sprinting across the field, pointing behind him and motioning to get moving. Tina yelled across to them, “Get your asses off the damn ground and get in the truck! We have got to get out of here. We should just go back to the damn cabin.”

  Shaun shook his head no, got the gear off the ground, and tossed it into the back of the truck. “We can’t abandon what we’re doing; this is our chance. This is our time to help and do something… we need to finish.”

  Greg shouted, “Can we just get out of here and head toward town? We need to get out of here.”

  Shaun nodded his head and the two boys joined Patrick in the back of the truck. Clare chased them, pumping his arms for everything he was worth; the distance he had on those things was not enough to last for long. Tina veered the truck in a crazy pattern, flying across the field, bumping and buckling the boys in the back as they held on for dear life.

  Tina drove at an angle for Clare, who didn’t care who was coming for him, only that there was someone… something that was a human. The boys dropped the tailgate to the truck and Patrick screamed into the window, “Hey, slow it down a little, Tina! We need to get him in the truck! He’s human—remember he can’t run like those damn things.”

  Tina pressed hard on the brakes, decreasing the distance between Clare and the truck. When he saw that it was slowing, he threw the rifle toward Shaun, who gripped it with both hands. Clare jumped, gripping on to a chain in the back, and Greg reached for his harness, pulling him hard and fast into the truck. Between breaths, Clare gasped, “Thank you! Good god! Thank you!”

  Clare looked behind him and saw a new, large group coming after the truck. The twenty he’d seen before seemed like an impossible number to deal with; he couldn’t count the number chasing the truck. He hit his throat mic. “Sir, they’re after me and they’re thick and moving fast.”

  “How much distance do you got on ’em?” Phelps asked.

  “I’m in a truck, sir. We should be up to a half mile or more in a minute as long as these things don’t start flying.”

  “Can I assume that you’re being followed, son?”

  “Roger that, sir, and I’m freaking out.”

  “Well you are a damn navy SEAL you don’t have the opportunity to freak out. Bring them this way. We’ll be ready for you. You might want to give us a few minutes before you do, though. If you keep following the tree line, we’ll let you know when we have eyes on you.”

  Clary came on next. “Hey, don’t worry, Clare, I got enough shit with me to set the world on fire.”

  “You know, I hope so. Get a line set up; we’re going to circle this field and head back that way, I won’t forget that I’m a SEAL don’t worry.”

  Clare duck walked to the edge of the truck, holding onto the middle of the open window as it bounced wildly up and down. Clare looked inside, seeing Tina driving and looking like she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He looked back at Shaun and the boys. “You’re just kids. What the hell are you doing out here alone in a truck like this? You’re just goddamn kids.”

  Greg was holding onto the edge of the truck and in typical, unfiltered Greg fashion he yelled, “We saved your ass, didn’t we?”

  Clare opened his mouth then shut it, realizing the kid was right and that he’d be no better off than Gowland if they hadn’t saved his ass. He was also thinking about the gunfire and how they had come in droves once the noise from the rifles started. He yelled in the cab, “Hey, you driving—I need you to head over that way and then back around toward the trees... got it?”

  Tina had her hands clenched to the steering wheel, white knuckling it. “Tina!”

  Clare had most of his attention on the growing mob of the Turned that was in a blood-hungry pursuit. He screamed back to her, “What?”

  Tina yelled nervously, “My name is Tina, or T. Your choice, but it’s not ‘hey you’.”

  Clare looked at her, and shook his head, baffled. “Okay. Tina, please drive us over there so my guys can get some time to set up.”

  Tina nodded and turned the truck hard to the right, driving out to the edge of the field and stopping for a moment, letting it idle. The Turned were still coming and were ready; they were running so fast that with every third step, they were galloping with their hands, pushing harder and faster. They screamed as they moved in pursuit. Clare tapped on the truck and pointed to the edge of the fields where the woods started. “Tina, start heading over there at about twenty miles per hour.”

  She revved the truck and started their way over to the woods. As they got closer, the mic chirped in Clare’s ear. Clary was in charge of demolition and gave him directions. Clare nodded and yelled, “Hey, you... uh, Tina, head straight for the woods and then take a right. When I yell, I need you to punch the gas, because my team is going to light this place up.”

  Tina nodde
d her head, speeding across the field. The truck was bucking up and down and the group in the back held on for everything they had, the rifles smacking them upside the head and bouncing everywhere. Clare yelled, “Does she always drive like this?”

  Greg nodded. “She doesn’t drive; she only has a permit.”

  Clare looked again, seeing her for the first time. While very well developed for her age, she was only fourteen or fifteen and looked like she couldn’t be more frightened. As she got to the edge of the woods, she turned hard, swinging the ass end of the pickup and fishtailing. Clare yelled, “Jesus, would you slow down? You’re going to get us killed.”

  Tina let her foot off of the gas, bringing it down to a speed that was only somewhat reckless for driving through a farm field. As they passed a bend in the trees, they saw the soldiers sitting ready on the edge of the forest. They were almost impossible to see. Clare saw two sticks sitting up where they shouldn’t have been and motioned to Tina to drive directly through them.

  She did as she was told and pushed the truck to its limit. Ellie had her hands pressed to the truck’s dashboard in front of her, praying that they would make it through the day—or more importantly, through the next five minutes. She focused on one soldier who was holding a square black box and had a look on his face that scared the hell out of her, as it was mixed with determination and pure joy. The man, she would find out later, was Clary.

  Phelps was sitting next to him and when the horde came around the corner, the soldiers were mesmerized by the pure numbers. Also, until they actually saw what was happening, none of team had realized that they were going to posses such dangerous speed. Phelps hit his mic. “Those things are catching up to you. You might want to tell whoever you got driving to punch the gas!”

  Clare watched the Turned as they ran, rapidly closing the distance between themselves and the truck. He screamed into the cab, “Put your foot to the fucking floor and do it now, goddamn it!”