Ravage

by MacCraw

  “Seems, uh, really tragic”, said Hannah, with fluctuating tones of sympathy and jealousy.

  “It was. To see the woman I love standing before me, morphing into a ferocious, bloodthirsty creature was horrifying. To be holding her back as she snapped at me and tried to crunch through my neck was as emotionally straining as it was physically. And for her to betray not only me, but everybody else, was more brutal than all of the wolf attacks I’ve survived put together.”

  “You mentioned somebody named Terry a second ago”, Hannah commented, “Who was he?”

  “He was one of the Final 5, so to speak”, Kirkley explained. “After forming a duo with Samantha, we met up with Captain Pack about a week later. During a trip into a country village, we found a guy named Terry, who had just narrowly avoided getting mauled by his parents, who had turned into wolves. Terry was just a farm boy, and was very emotionally fragile; especially when his parents had suffered a fate even worse than death. To honor his parents, he took the family .22, which he would continue to use until he was dragged off into the darkness during a surprise assault. I miss Terry. He was a good person, and a beautiful human being. He didn’t deserve to die that way. To become one of Sat’s thralls.”

  “What of the other girl in our cozy little family?” Hannah asked.

  “Poet… we never knew where Poet came from, and she didn’t tell us. She very rarely speaks; the last time she said something was when she told us to call her Poet”, Kirkley answered. “She’s a good shot, and a clear-headed woman with a quiet mind. Because she doesn’t spend her time shouting in the heat of battle, she’s able to focus on what she’s doing, exactly how she needs to. It’s kind of crazy, but very cool and extremely helpful. It’s a gift, in my opinion.”

  “There it is”, Hannah said, leaning towards Kirkley and pointing at the cop department. The way she was leaning had her head and her short blonde-and-brown hair resting on his shoulder and brushing against his neck, but Kirkley was too preoccupied with the police station to really pay attention to this subtle hint.

  “What the hell’s with the debris, blast marks and gigantic gaping fucking hole through the garage door?” Kirkley asked in confusion.

  “Riley.”

  “Figures”, Kirkley scoffed.

  On Hannah’s first mission, she was visiting the police station to try and get her hands on a police vehicle; now she and Kirkley needed to get into the station itself, to loot and plunder the armory to replenish their ever-so-depleted ammo supply.

  Hannah walked into the lobby with Kirkley, and the place was exactly the same as it was when Hannah, Riley and Pack first entered it slightly over 24 hours ago. The security doors were still locked down. “Any ideas on how to get through?” Kirkley asked.

  Hannah looked around the lobby, carefully scanning everything. Looking upwards, her eyes fixed on the drop ceiling tiles. “Those ceiling panels”, said Hannah. “That’s our ticket in.”

  “I know; they’re drop ceiling panels for maintenance and mechanical access, but they won’t be able to support our weight”, said Kirkley.

  “Your weight, maybe”, Hannah remarked. “But I think I might be able to squeeze through, drop down on the other side, and find a way to lower the security doors.”

  “That beats my plan; sitting in a cold police station lobby, letting my stubble grow into a disgusting, hairy beard, and not bothering to trim my nails to the point where I have an eagle’s talons.”

  Kirkley helped boost Hannah up into the ceiling, and she crawled up into the vents. The vents were disgusting. They were coated in centimeters of dust and lint, and it was incredibly humid; quite ironic for a ventilation system. It was dark, and Hannah could hardly see her hands.

  “Kirkley, you wouldn’t happen to have a flashlight, would you?” Hannah said, peering back down the hole.

  “I’ve got a chem-light”, Kirkley responded, tossing a small glow stick to Hannah, who caught it almost immediately. Hannah snapped it, and the stick began to glow green. Hannah clenched the light in her teeth, and shuffled through the filthy ceiling. After crawling about 7 meters, Hannah pushed down on a random tile, and went plummeting down onto the floor. With her catlike reflexes, Hannah dropped down on her feet, causing a large puff of the dust and lint accumulated on her clothing. Slowly rising up from the ground, Hannah took a moment to survey the corridor around her, looking for any sort of engineering room.

  “Hannah, can you hear me?” Kirkley hollered, though his voice seemed somewhat distant.

  “Yeah, I hear you!” Hannah shouted in response. “Kind of distant, but if you can hear me, I’m going to search for a way to open the security doors.”

  Hannah passed by the three doors to the left and walked up a set of spiral stairs at the end of the hallway, which opened up to reveal several additional rooms. It was good that she checked, because one of the rooms was labeled as a criminal possessions locker. Hannah grabbed the handle and rattled it; unsurprisingly, it was locked.

  “Okay, Plan B”, said Hannah.

  Hannah reached into her satchel and pulled out an extremely thin metal rod, like a gigantic sewing pin. She stuck it in the keyhole, and then attempted to pick the lock. After several seconds of rattling and jiggling, the lock made a loud click, and Hannah slid her beloved skeleton key out. Hannah tried to open the door, but it was still locked.

  “Fuck”, Hannah cursed. “Okay, Plan C.”

  Hannah unslung her L85, and ferociously smashed the stock of the weapon against the door handle. She bashed and smashed relentlessly, and through her aggressive style, the locked door handle was knocked straight out of the door. Hannah put her fingers through the breach, and used her strength to rip the door open.

  Hannah was quite shocked upon entering the possessions locker. It reminded her of a cross between a flea market and a black market. There were so many bizarre things inside; mostly weapons, but even ridiculous things like toothpaste capsules, an action figure, and a boomerang. There were plenty of weapons and gadgets that would most certainly aid criminals in their exploits – rudimentary knives, sharpened strips of metal, a fractured butcher’s knife, a shotgun, two pistols of different calibers, bolt cutters, a pickaxe, a rusted crowbar, a shaving razor, and even nail clippers. Shuffling through the criminal tools, Hannah found a hand welder, which she knew was the key through the security door separating her from Kirkley. If there was enough fuel left in it, the welder could potentially open up the arms cache, assuming there was one.

  Kirkley heard the hissing and sizzling of the welding tool slowly slicing through the metal security shutters. It took Hannah a minute to cut through the door, and after Hannah finished sawing out a breach in the security door, the ovular metal plate dropped to the ground with a loud bang.

  Kirkley whistled. “Damn, I’m impressed”, he remarked. “Did you take shop class in high school?”

  “Nope”, Hannah answered, clipping the welding tool to her belt. “I was in chorus and art. Problem is that everybody in my high school was a complete fucking cunt. My chorus teacher, Mrs. Haywood was an annoying little bitch, and my art teacher, Mr. Rivers, was a big, fat douchebag.”

  “Do you always curse this much?” Kirkley asked, just completely awed by the high volumes of profanity the aggressive young woman used.

  “Yeah, and what of it?”

  “Nothing”, said Kirkley. “I’m just… intrigued.”

  “Kirkley, through some miracle, you’ve ended up on my good side”, Hannah explained, groaning in frustration. “Don’t fuck it up.”

  Respecting Hannah’s request to avoid an argument and potential scuffle, Kirkley decided to change the subject back to the task at hand. “Did you find anything useful?”

  “A bunch of random shit”, said Hannah. “Toothpaste, comic books, toys, silverware, a coffee mug… tons of crap that makes you really curious on what the mentality of today’s criminals is like.”

  “Never mind that, then”, Kirkley replied. “Let’s focus on getting these d
oors open.”

  Hannah and Kirkley started to weld each door open, but by chance the first door they opened was the door to the arms locker. The pair was aghast and amazed by the amount of firearms and ammunition present inside. Dozens of pistols were stacked on an open locker, and the racks on the right hand side were stocked with several shotguns and assault rifles. The left side was loaded with ammunition for a wide assortment of small arms, and Hannah and Kirkley knew that they had found the pot of gold.

  Zipping their bags open, they quickly began shoveling armfuls of magazines into their bergans, depleting the supply cache faster than an overcrowded buffet. It was about a minute before they could carry no more, and then they began to haul their ammunition towards their new home in the town.

  …

  Everyone regrouped at the town hall in about three hours, and Pack stood at the door to welcome them in as he and Connor aided their friends in shuttling the food, ammo and medical supplies up the stairs. Logan was up on the top floor, and had tossed down a rope which he had tied around the leg of a bed. Everybody would take turns fastening their baggage to the end of the rope that Logan had sent down the derelict elevator shaft, and Logan would haul it up to the top. In about five minutes, everybody was up top with their newly-acquired supplies.

  “Well, lads”, Pack smiled as he and his allies proposed a toast, “Here’s to a safe new home, a home rich with loot to plunder, and a safe escape from Fort William.”

  “Here, here!” everybody minus Kirkley cheered.

  Hannah had been lowering the volume on the others because, for some reason, she was thinking of Kirkley. She turned to look for him, and she saw him lying on his right side, facing the wall.

  “Kirkley, you okay?” Hannah asked in concern.

  “...It wasn’t a safe escape”, Kirkley sighed. “We… I… lost somebody important.”

  Hannah felt transfused with the same pain that Kirkley was feeling, so she stood up and went over to sit next to him. “Look, mate, I know that you loved Samantha, and I can’t understand how brutal it is to lose somebody who you love. But she would have wanted us to survive this mess.”

  “If she wanted us to survive, she wouldn’t have been sabotaging our efforts”, said Kirkley.

  “I suppose”, Hannah replied.

  “Hey, lads, it’s chowtime”, Connor said through a mouthful of food.

  “Top grub, what is it?” asked Riley.

  “Tastes like beef”, Connor replied.

  Pack handed a bag of beef jerky to Hannah, who handed it to Kirkley. “You want some jerky, Kirkley?”

  “I guess”, said Kirkley, who took a few strips of jerky.

  “Hold on…”, said Pack, who raised his hand and got everybody to quiet down.

  “…Help…”, a distant, but nearby voice moaned.

  The team members cautiously raised their weapons. Their hearts were pounding in frightened anticipation, completely caught off guard and unsure of what exactly the situation was or how to handle it. Eventually, Kirkley worked up the nerve to quickly shuffle down the ladder, drop down into the elevator room, and out the door to where the wounded lad was standing. The rest of his comrades quickly, but reluctantly, followed.

  “Who are you?” Kirkley anxiously shouted down to the bare-chested man with bloody cuts, scars and scratches all over his body.

  “J… Jonathon…”, the injured guy replied.

  “What the hell happened to you, mate?”

  “I was mauled”, Jonathon croaked.

  Kirkley heard the safety on an L85 switch off with a subtle clack, and he swung around to face Hannah, who had her eyes down the iron sight of her gun, which was pointed at the savagely mauled survivor.

  “Hannah, no!” Kirkley shouted, quickly deflecting her rifle away from the poor, barely-breathing man. The gunshots of the assault rifle buzzed loudly, ringing and clanking as they barely avoided striking both Kirkley and Jonathon.

  “Keep him down!” Hannah hollered, trying to push through Kirkley’s block. At their leader’s request, Connor and Logan tackled Jonathon, anchoring him to the ground as he shouted and kicked around frantically.

  “What in the wet sack of Su and Sat is wrong with you?!” Kirkley furiously screamed.

  “Maybe you haven’t been paying enough attention to detail, but this fucker was scratched; clawed and bitten!”

  “So?! We, I mean, we could still help him?!” Kirkley pleaded.

  “Not an option”, said Hannah. “I’m not betraying you, or our family members! I’m making sure he won’t kill us all. Riley, Poet, go grab some rope from upstairs. I want him to talk.”

  “What are you going to do, torture him?” asked Pack.

  “I dunno, what would you do?” said Hannah.

  “I’d torture him”, Pack replied.

  “Nobody’s torturing anybody!” Kirkley screamed. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it my way!”

  …

  “Untie me… you… bastards!” Jonathon snarled.

  To ensure that the traveler wouldn’t turn into a wolf and slaughter all of them, the survivors were forced to tie Jonathon up to a streetlight. However, to accommodate Kirkley’s needs, they refrained from using fierce torture methods, and also gave him medical assistance.

  “Now I’ll ask you again, Wolfenstein”, Hannah growled, “Where did you come from, and when did you get attacked by the wolves?”

  “I am not telling you, you slime.”

  Hannah pulled her knife out of her boot and stuck it against Jonathon’s neck, causing him to bleed slightly with every heartbeat. “Where?!”

  “Down south, from an army of survivors”, he answered. “Believe me, there are way more of them than there are of you, and they’re not as… hospitable as you folk.”

  “We’ll be the judge of that”, said Pack. “Where and when were you attacked?”

  “About three miles up the road, and about 4 hours ago”, Jonathon gasped. “Now release me at once!”

  “Sorry, mate, but we can’t do that”, Hannah sighed, grinning.

  “I told you my name, where I came from, who I was with, where I was attacked, and when I was attacked!” Jonathon raged. “What more do you want from me?”

  “Alright, lads, who has a stopwatch?” asked Hannah. Riley dug into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a digital watch, which he tossed to Hannah.

  “Stopwatch?” Kirkley questioned.

  “Yes, a stopwatch”, Hannah explained. “We’re going to do a little experiment.”

  In horror, and not understanding Hannah’s ulterior motive, Kirkley drew his sidearm. “Explain this, NOW!” he roared, “Or I WILL shoot!”

  “Samantha was scratched at some point, and eventually turned”, said Hannah. “Question is, when you turn into one of the dog soldiers, do you hold it back, hold it in? Like needing to take a leak, or a shit? With our soon-to-be furry friend here, we’ll be able to find out. The period of waiting begins…”

  …

  …And then it ended.

  After 15 or 16 hours, of dreadfully boring waiting, Kirkley and the team heard agonized moaning and straining, and rushed to view Jonathon morph into the most gruesome creature that man had ever had the tragedy of encountering. The vicious dog thrashed and snapped angrily, still bound to the tree with multiple lines of rope in extremely tight knots.

  “Alright, time for some target practice”, said Hannah. “Rifles armed!”

  Everybody minus Kirkley and Connor raised their weapons and prepared to decimate the Jonathon wolf.

  “Poet, Pack, go for the chest. Logan, go for the gut. Riley and I are gonna shoot this fucker in the face”, Hannah smirked.

  Everybody squeezed the triggers, and a barrage of gunfire repeatedly pelted the exposed wolf. Reluctantly, Kirkley joined in with his SPAS-15, and after about 90 combined rounds, the dog soldier slowly groaned before its head hung low and its arms stopped struggling around. Everybody cheered triumphantly, giving out hugs and handshakes.

&nbs
p; “Was this really necessary?” Kirkley asked, still burdened with conscience and clouded by remorse and lamentation.

  “Yes”, Hannah quickly replied. “We learned additional things about our adversaries just from this one incident. We learned that there are even more humans to the south, and they’re most likely in a city of their own. We learned that it takes a minimum of 17 hours for somebody who was scratched to begin turning. And perhaps the most vital thing we learned was that, with enough concentrated lung and headshots, the wolf soldiers will die. It’s damned near impossible, and we went through a lot of ammunition just dealing with one, but at least now we know that we can actually fight these things and win.”

  “I suppose”, Kirkley sighed, “The way you were going about that was just wrong, in my opinion.”

  “Do or die, there is no what, when or why”, Hannah reiterated.

  Captain Pack yawned and stretched. “Well, I don’t know about you lot”, he said, cracking his knuckles, “But I’m going to go get some shuteye.”

  “I’m with the Pack Man”, Riley added. “Night, jokers.”

  It was getting really frosty and cold outdoors, so everybody knew it was best to go back into the relatively warm comfort of the town hall. The bars of the ladder up felt so icy and frigid, further rushing everybody upstairs where they could jump into a nice warm bed or sleeping bag.

  Kirkley opened up his sleeping back and set it up in a room adjacent to the elevator shaft, so he could get the peace and quiet he felt he deserved and badly needed. Everybody else was settled in the hallway outside of the elevator door, but he just wanted some privacy. His solution was to set up shop in the office building at the end of the corridor, close the door, and sleep with a nice view of the forest, plunged in orange lighting from the eternal eclipse.

  At least half an hour had gone by, and Kirkley still remained awake in his sleeping bag. After he finally began to feel himself drifting off, to detach his mind from his physical burden, he heard footsteps approaching the door. Kirkley had left his primary weapon at the door, so there was no way he could quickly snatch it, but he did happen to have his pistol at hand, and slowly reached for it as the door handle carefully rotated. To his surprise, it was none other than Hannah, who was wearing a nightgown – a very unusual thing to be wearing in the middle of an apocalypse – as opposed to her usual survivor fatigues of ragged jeans, a tank top, a ushanka and a thick winter coat. Kirkley suddenly found himself in the same erotic feeling as he was when he got intimate with Samantha. Though Hannah’s personality seemed somewhat chipped and bitter at times, she had a beautiful body, and showed that there was plenty of time to love and make love during the period of immortal darkness.