Carl then kicked back, though with the chair in the way, it cut down the power of his blow. Still, it pushed Jason back a few inches, enough for Carl to toss away the chair and separate himself from his opponent.
But Carl could not counterattack. Jason had moved too fast. In fact, he acted as if he was possessed. He never skipped a beat between moving. It was as if his senses were heightened, or he just moved so quickly without regarding his own safety. Carl hoped he could use that to his advantage, but right now it was all he could do to stay one step ahead of Jason.
The narrow path between the HVAC and the wall lay behind him. It was his only chance. As Jason jabbed at him, Carl ducked and dove into the path. Then he retreated, crouched down, around the other side of the HVAC. The space on the other side, between the machinery and the opposite wall, was even narrower, but still enough for a person to crouch behind.
He may be a killer, but he never went through Marine training, Carl thought as he secreted himself behind the HVAC machinery. Sure enough, Jason lost track of Carl as he made his escape behind the apparatus.
Carl patted the floor next to him. He hoped someone had dropped a tool back here, anything he could use as a weapon.
Jason’s footsteps slowed. Although the HVAC mostly blocked the man from view, Carl still could spot him walking past gaps in the machinery.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking, Mister Mathers, but hiding from me only makes this all the more enjoyable,” Jason said. “It makes the kill all the more sweet for the predator.”
So far Carl’s groping had come up empty. Perhaps talking to this freak would buy him more time. “You’re one sick son of a bitch, you know that? Hunting people, and for fun? What did you used to do before all the lights went out?”
“I was actually in the accounting world. I’m sure you find that hard to believe.”
“Not really. I suppose accountants have their fair share of psychos,” Carl quipped.
“You would be correct. I bore witness too many things. Accounting fraud, theft, sexual depravity, and good old-fashioned swindling of the elderly and the poor. I suppose if the lights didn’t go out, some of my colleagues would have gone to prison, though I imagine being thrown into this savage new world was a worse punishment. In fact, do you know who my first victim was? My supervisor. I decorated his office with his own guts. It matched the wallpaper, actually.”
Carl still came up empty in his search for a tool or other weapon. It almost didn’t matter, as he felt ready to take this guy apart with his bare hands. If there was any doubt Carl was not dealing with a sane man, it all went out the window listening to his story.
“Does that disturb you, soldier?” Jason asked blandly.
“You talk about the assholes you worked with and then decide to become one yourself? Yeah, I’d say so. You’re no better than they were,” Carl retorted.
Jason’s footsteps then stopped. “No, Mister Mathers, I’m a lot worse.”
And then a hand reached through a gap in the machinery and grabbed hold of Carl’s throat. If Jason’s hand had been just a little stronger, he would have snapped Carl’s neck.
Jason then spoke in a guttural tone that eschewed the façade of civility he had been putting on until now. “It’s so much fun to be one of them, Mister Mathers!”
Carl gasped for air. Jason tried digging into Carl’s flesh, but he couldn’t. Perhaps Jason was too far away to grasp him tightly enough. Still, Jason’s squeeze was choking him. Carl quickly grabbed Jason’s hand, but couldn’t loosen the man’s fingers.
Damn…I’m losing…
Carl was getting desperate. So, he resorted to one last trick. He opened his mouth and sank his teeth into Jason’s hand.
Carl’s biting did the trick. Jason’s hand loosened, and an added push from Carl released Jason’s grip completely. Carl then backed up to a place where there were no gaps between him and Jason, while wheezing loudly. That was close, too damn close. He should have seen that coming, shouldn’t he have?
“You’re making too many mistakes, soldier,” Jason said, with a tinge of irritation, perhaps from Carl’s bite. “You almost got killed by the last one. The next may be your last.”
Carl fought to catch his breath. His neck stung, and dizziness threatened to overwhelm him. He was in even worse shape now, without having scored another blow against Jason. Yet, he still could not find anything to arm himself with. The only thing he had spotted thus far was a metal pan used to collect condensation from the unit. He reached for it. It was light, and easy to handle, but the metal also was not very thick. Unless he hit Jason hard and quick in the head with it, the pan was unlikely to do much damage.
Then he picked up his right hand. Metal shavings and dirt covered it. This area was covered with dirt. It likely had been worked on but never had received a proper cleaning.
And then, a plan came together. It seemed silly, clever, and desperate, all at once, but it didn’t matter as long as Carl came out of this alive. Quickly, he scooted all the metal shavings and dirt into the pan. Then, while carrying the pan and its contents, he crept toward the end of the HVAC equipment, close to the door.
He listened for Jason’s footsteps. No, he would not make a move until he was sure he knew where Jason was standing. This plan might not work if he didn’t get the drop on Jason. If he sprang out into the open, he would do it blindly. He might catch Jason facing away from him or facing toward him.
Then he spotted a nickel on the pan. He must have scooped it up with the metal shavings. It was funny to look at it now, as currency was useless now. But for the here and now, the nickel might just save Carl’s life.
Carl picked it up, raised his arm, and tossed the nickel back the other way. The coin flew through the air and bounced off the wall.
Jason’s footsteps picked up. He was headed in the other direction.
Got you, you bastard.
Carl slid out of the space, back into the open room. Then he dashed around the other side of the HVAC equipment while ducking to avoid the protruding machine component. Jason’s back was turned to him. The nickel provided the needed distraction. Carl picked up speed. Jason turned around…
And then Carl slammed the pan and its contents full force into Jason’s face. He pushed as hard as he could. He hoped he had nailed Jason with his eyes open. Those metal shavings would be hell on his vision.
Jason screamed as he fell back against the machinery. Carl released the pan, then threw a hard punch into Jason’s chest. He hit Jason again in the face as the brute tried brushing the shavings and dirt out of his face. Carl successfully had blinded him, but for how long he couldn’t say. He pummeled Jason hard and fast before he could recover.
Jason crouched under the pressure. Perhaps Carl finally would prevail. Carl raised his fist again…
But then, with an angry howl, Jason turned and tackled Carl right into the wall. The blow struck Carl so hard he saw colored spots in the air. It also sent searing pain up Carl’s back. He let out a yelp of agony. Jason, though still lashing out blindly, seemed to be acting on instinct. Carl tried turning and running away, but Jason grabbed him and slammed him to the floor.
Blood trickled from his nose. Carl coughed. Another blow might render him unconscious. He had tried every trick in the book, but this monster was about to get the better of him. He wondered if he had bit off more than he could chew this time.
But before the final blow was struck, a loud bang rang out through the room. Jason let out a scream as he fell backward.
Carl pushed himself up from the floor to get a better look at what just had happened. Behind him, Jason was stumbling backward, clutching his chest near his right shoulder. Carl then turned to the doorway. Preston was standing there, his eyes wide open, smoke pouring out of his gun barrel.
“Goddammit!” Jason shouted over and over again. He caught the edge of the HVAC machinery. Blood trickled down his shirt, but he wasn’t out.
“Carl…” Preston said in a low, intense
voice.
Jason wiped his eyes with his arm. His right eye managed to open, the orb looking red and nasty from the metal shavings and dirt. But he was looking right at Preston. The injury to his eye only amplified his fury.
“Damn…you!”
Jason turned and dashed through the path between the HVAC machinery and the wall. Carl scrambled to get out of the way. He watched Preston’s face reflect the turmoil that must be going through his mind, the apprehension of pulling the trigger again.
But in the end, he did.
Carl did not see Jason catch the next bullet, but he did turn to see Jason tumble down and fall to the floor.
Preston exhaled loudly as he fell against the wall. “Damn…” He whispered it over and over again.
“Preston.” Carl climbed to his feet by hanging onto the HVAC machinery. “You did it. You saved me.”
Preston didn’t acknowledge Carl’s thanks. Instead he just stood there in a state of shock, mumbling for a while before falling silent.
Chapter Twenty
Ron and Drake each yawned, with Ron stretching his arms. “Leave it to us to get the grunt work,” Ron said.
“Yeah, but at least we found a little candy left in that vending machine.” Drake shook a Snickers bar in his right hand. “Probably the last Snickers we’ll ever eat.”
Ron patted the bar in his pocket. “Yeah. Sad part about the apocalypse. No more movies, no phones, French fries or candy.”
The pair then passed by one of the mall’s water fountains. “Hey, check it out.” Ron pointed to Scott, who lay still on the floor, his arm outstretched as if he had just handed something over. “Damn,” Ron said, “looks as though he’s taking the big dirt nap.”
“No kidding,” Drake said. “Too bad for him. It’s not like we could do shit for him.”
The pair continued walking until they encountered another body lying on the ground. “Hey,” Ron said as he rushed up to the new body. “Isn’t that Cyrus?”
The brute lay under a yellow cleaning cart. His right eye was slightly open, and a trail of dry blood led to the floor from his lips.
“Damn!” Drake said. “How in God’s name did this happen?” He and Ron looked up at the broken banister on the second floor. “That is one hell of an accident!”
“Hey.” Ron slapped Drake on the chest. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“What?” Drake asked with slight annoyance.
“Ding! Dong! The witch is dead!” Ron then broke out in laughter.
Drake shook his head. “You truly have shit for brains.” Then he froze in place. “Hey, shut your trap. I hear voices up there.”
The pair looked up. They could not see anyone walking up on the second floor from this vantage point, but they did hear a man voice say, “…I’m not carrying him downstairs. Just toss him over.”
“Okay, no sweat,” said a second man’s voice.
Ron and Drake looked at each other. “What the hell is going on?” Ron asked.
And then suddenly another body dropped right in front of them. Ron yelped and tripped backward, while Drake held out his hands defensively. “Mother of God!” Drake cried.
Ron clutched his chest. “That’s Ilario!”
Drake frowned. “Yeah, but what the hell happened to him?”
Ron leaned over the corpse. “It’s like Freddy Krueger got a hold of him! Look at his back!”
Drake shook his head. “Okay, something bad has gone down. Real bad.”
“Hey!” Ron pointed to the Kelly’s Boutique storefront. “I see people walking around in there, and they look like the people who were hiding upstairs!”
“But why are they walking around free?” Drake turned to Ron. “You don’t think they got the jump on Jason?”
Ron gulped. “Then we’re next!”
Drake patted Ron on the shoulder. “Well, it’s been a blast kid, but I think I’m bugging out.” He turned and fled down the corridor.
“Hey!” Ron quickly gave chase. “I’m coming with you, man! I’m not sticking around to get stabbed or thrown off a balcony! Hey, Drake!”
The nightmare of Jason Maltesta and his men finally had come to an end, but not without a lot of blood and bruises to show for it. Both Carl and Preston rested on the floor inside Kelly’s Boutique. Carl spoke a lot while being tended to by the survivors, but Preston remained silent and distant. As for the rest of Jason’s men, all but Ron and Drake were accounted for. They had not returned during the past few hours. Carl doubted they would show their faces again. They probably got wind of Jason’s overthrow and decided not to stick around.
Unfortunately, Preston wasn’t the only one who was unresponsive. Michael had said nothing since the nightmare had concluded. He was awake, and even ate and drank the morsels given to him. Yet, otherwise he seemed locked in a perpetual daydream, even with Tara trying to coax him out of it.
“What happened to him?” Tara finally asked.
It was up to one of the newcomers who had arrived at the mall last night, a young man in a red polo shirt, to explain Michael’s story. “He ran through the back exit of the store, made it out just as the place went up. The fire caught on him, not much, but enough to nail his back and arm. We managed to put him out, but he fell unconscious from the shock. He woke up a little later, but he didn’t say anything. It had taken us a while to get a few words out of him, but they’re mostly just basic stuff, like asking for water. He was bleeding from the head when we got to him, so he’s probably not all there. God knows what a hit to the head will do to you. I’m sorry, but he may not even remember a lot of things.” Tara took it all in stoically. “I just wish we had a hospital to check him out,” the young man added.
“You did the best you could,” Tara said, though she sounded as if the wind had been knocked out of her. Perhaps she remained happy to see Michael alive at all, but to receive him back in this mangled state must still have been heartbreaking.
By now Carl was hobbling around the room, receiving thanks and accolades from the many survivors. Carl had taken it with grace and humility, explaining he was doing what any soldier would do.
“Now that we’ve put an end to Jason and Cyrus, it’s time to think about your future,” he told them. “Sooner or later, you’re going to run out of provisions, plus there’s no telling when another mob of killers might show up. Someone may even try to burn this place down out of a sick sense of fun. I plan to move on. There’s an army base somewhere to the north of here, and I must see if it’s still operational. I’d be happy to take any of you, or even all of you.”
Some of the people nodded and seemed happy at the idea. Carl quickly added, “Now, I’m not saying this is the safest option, though I do think it can offer you a safe haven. There are bad people out there too, probably all the way to the base. And then there are feral animals to think about. We can’t call the police, the fire department, or animal control. If you come with me, you must brave what the world tosses at you. The risk is going to live, no matter what you decide.”
“We understand,” said a man with a woman beside him, perhaps his wife. “Look, I think we’d be better off staying here for the moment.” He gripped the lady beside him a little tighter.
“If you do, we’d better dispose of the dead as soon as possible,” Carl said. “Dead bodies are a health risk and keeping them in this enclosed building is almost like a death sentence, especially without air circulation.”
“I’ll help,” Chad said. A few others spoke up in support.
Carl and Tara pushed the cleaning cart toward the doors near Marianne’s. The cart held the dead bodies of John, Scott and Cyrus. Three was the cart’s maximum capacity. Ilario, Kronish and Mayfield already had been dragged outside by Chad and other volunteers. Jason’s body remained to be disposed of, but Carl wanted to haul his corpse outside by himself.
“I’ll sleep better when we fumigate this place of these assholes,” Tara said bitterly.
“You and me both,” Carl said as he slowe
d the cart. The doors loomed close ahead.
Neither one of them commented on the absence of Preston. He remained in shock, and neither Carl nor Tara wanted to ask him to help dispose of the dead. Besides, there was enough manpower among the survivors for the task.
“Need a hand?”
Carl and Tara looked up. The pair was so tired from today’s brawl that they had not noticed Whitney standing at the doors. She had fled the scene shortly after helping to take out Ilario. She also had dressed herself in a pair of new khakis and a white T-shirt from one of the nearby stores.
“Sure,” Carl said.
Whitney opened the doors, allowing Carl and Tara to wheel the bodies outside. Whitney followed them, her presence presenting the pair with another loose end to tie up.
“Whitney,” Carl said, “Hey, I never had the chance to thank you for helping us, for keeping Shyanne safe, and for taking down Cyrus.”
“It wasn’t anything noble like that shit,” Whitney said as Carl and Tara pushed the cart onto the lot. “I just wanted to pay the bastard back for what he had done to me.”
“Well, say what you will, we appreciate it a lot,” Carl said.
“Although, it would have been better if you never had gotten hooked up with those bastards in the first place,” Tara said.
Carl cleared his throat loudly in disapproval. He wasn’t pleased with Whitney’s actions either, but he also didn’t want to turn Whitney off. “Tara,” he said, “with malice toward none, with charity for all.”
“What?” Tara asked.
“Abraham Lincoln,” Carl said, “Second Inaugural Address. The point is that dwelling on the past isn’t going to help us with our future.” Then he glanced at Whitney, who had been wearing a scowl, but her expression softened a little when Carl made eye contact. Also, with the horrible rape Whitney had suffered, Carl did not wish to remind Whitney of her poor choice of friends.
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