“You saw him?” Kira asked.
“No, not really, but I heard his voice. Kira, was that God?”
“No, not God; just someone who cares.”
“I don’t understand,” Dani said.
“Me neither, not completely, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll be right back.”
Austin didn’t wait for the others. He shouldered his baseball bat and sprinted across the street with rifle in hand. He made the alley without so much as a single bullet graze. He had to rush. He maintained a good show, but in truth, the fever burned and he felt dizzy. If he didn’t get in the game soon, he feared he would pass out and miss the action. He ran down the short alley, unhappy with the heaviness he felt in his legs. His lungs strained to pull in enough oxygen, but he kept moving. The alley emptied into a larger utility road behind the buildings. He paused for only a few seconds to ensure no one waited there with a gun. The access way was empty. He ran again, and his head pounded with each step.
He reached the garage and decided to cut through it rather than risk using the final alley just beyond. Thankfully, the main doors in front were closed and provided him cover. He jogged across the cement floor and reached the access door on the building’s far side. He pulled it open a crack and peered out. Bart and company were about twenty feet from his position. He could kill most of them from the doorway. He checked his rifle and prepared to fire.
A few feet away from Bart stood Mustache Mike. Mike who had punched him in the ribs. Mike who believed he could get away with helping Bart beat on his brother. Mike who had smiled when he shot Adam. Anger boiled up inside Austin. Controlling his temper had never been his strong suit, but this felt different. This rage threatened to turn the world red. The source was not just revenge or that Mike deserved to face justice. This was a feeling of red-hot hate. An instinctual call that his single mission in life was to shred the man into pieces. It felt like he and Mike were mortal enemies, as if they had always been enemies, as if the balance of the world was established only when one killed the other.
Mike stood there completely unaware of the violence that stalked just a few yards away. Austin put his rifle down. A voice inside screamed at him. It yelled to stay where he was and use the gun. Another voice hissed back. It didn’t speak in words, but the intent was clear all the same. It wanted him to hunt, it wanted him to kill, and it liked the vision of the baseball bat tearing through the group of weak, disgusting cowards. Austin liked that vision too. He took his bat in one hand. His fever still burned, but now it felt like fuel instead of sickness. He slid the door open a foot and slipped through. Austin crouched down just outside the door. His instincts and senses felt renewed and almost supernatural. The distance was so easy to calculate, his planned trajectory shown in clear, brilliant light, and his vision was sharp and focused. The world around him slowed and the sounds hushed. He sprung forward on powerful legs.
The darkness returned; and with it, a searing pain. Kira felt the pavement beneath her face. She felt the knife buried high on her back. She heard the gunfire and the voices. She reached behind her shoulder and found the knife. She pulled it from her back, and the intense pain almost sent her away again, but she held on. The darkness faded and she saw light. Her vision was blurred, but she saw the man a few yards from her. He stood with the pole in hand, struggling to control the Creeper. She looked to her left and saw Bart’s legs. She was tempted to stand and slit his throat, but that was not the plan.
She pushed herself from the ground and prayed her legs would support her. They did, and with knife in hand, she stumbled toward the man with the pole. He didn’t notice her at first; no one noticed her, as they were too busy. Her false vision cleared a bit. The man was only a few feet away. He turned and saw her. His face registered his confusion, as he looked at the blind, dead girl staggering forward. He looked down at her knife. He did what she had already seen him do. He dropped the pole to defend against the knife. It was too late. The knife came up quick, and it slit his throat. His hands grabbed at the fatal wound instinctively, and then he fell dead. Kira took a few more steps and then sat down on the cement.
Please, she prayed, just let me watch so that I know that it is done.
Her prayer was answered, and then she slipped back to the warm field and found Dani.
The plan to flank Bart’s team didn’t happen. Golden’s noisy entrance brought Annie and Brad back to the front. Devin began to lay out the new plan when a high-pitched scream came from Bart’s end of the street. They risked the bullets and looked around the SUVs.
The Creeper was loose, and it had grabbed hold of a man with a crew cut. It tore the man’s throat out and then rushed toward the next man. That man was Bart. He backed up, trying to get away from the infected creature. Bart stumbled into a man with a large mustache. In Mustache Mike’s own panicked attempt to keep the Creeper at bay, he grabbed on to Bart and held him like a shield. Bart struggled to free himself, but the Creeper came too fast. It reached Bart and tore him from Mike’s grip. Bart and the Creeper went to the ground. The Creeper tore into Bart. It ripped away large chunks of flesh. Bart’s screams were satisfactory to the people behind the Tahoe.
“Now!” Devin yelled, and the group ran forward as Bart’s congregation ran toward them in their panicked escape.
If the fleeing men and women had dropped their guns or if they had signaled their intent to surrender, it may have ended differently. That, however, was not the case. When a man raised his rifle at Brandon, the group’s guns fired. Bart’s congregation fired back. Bart was correct. Most were a terrible shot, none was as practiced as the young survivors were, and quite a few couldn’t have hit water if they fell from a boat. The majority of the congregation were shot and killed. A few broke to the left and to the right and went for cover, throwing their weapons as they ran. The young team never shot an unarmed person throughout the entire battle. None of Bart’s people who attempted to hold their own, however, survived.
Mustache Mike ran when the Creeper got Bart. It was a short escape. He ran into Austin. Mike pleaded and begged for mercy. Austin’s cold eyes conceded that none would be given. Austin grabbed Mike’s large, bushy mustache and tore it from his face. Most of Mike’s upper lip came with it. Austin’s bat split his skull in a single swing. The other swings broke many bones, but Mike was already dead.
Devin watched his brother’s attack. He witnessed the fury, and a deep concern knotted his stomach. His brother could be a hothead, but he was not willfully violent. The bat came down repeatedly on Mike’s dead body. Devin’s concern abated when the Creeper finished its meal and turned toward Austin. Austin saw it, but he did not attempt to fight or flee. Instead, he just stood and stared at it. His bat remained at his side. The Creeper did not charge; it rocked back and forth and then it screamed, but it still did not advance. Austin stood stone still and waited. Devin looked down at his shotgun. It wasn’t effective at this range, so he couldn’t kill the Creeper before it attacked his brother. He turned to Nick, who held a rifle.
“Nick, kill that thing,” he said and pointed at the Creeper.
Devin wasn’t certain if anyone else witnessed what he saw, but in the moments before Nick shot the Creeper, Austin hissed and the Creeper actually took a step back.
Fear, Devin thought. It’s afraid of Austin.
Nick’s bullet took it in the head and the Creeper collapsed.
Austin stood for a minute longer; he began to cough violently, and then he collapsed too.
When Devin reached him, blood ran from his brother’s mouth and his breathing was raspy and shallow.
“Pick him up,” Devin said. “Get him to Dr. Thorn.”
Brandon saw the blood.
“Is he shot?” he asked.
“No, it must be internal bleeding from that punch he took to the ribs,” Devin answered.
Brandon gave his friend a single nod, but his expression showed skepticism.
“Okay, bro, but remember, I’m on your team. The truth won’t change that.” He paused for a moment and considered his next words. “A lack of honesty, my friend, might.”
Devin nodded in return and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“I know, but later, okay? We’ve got a lot to do, and I want the hell out of here.”
Uninvited guests
Brandon and Nick remained vigilant. Not the entire congregation had participated in the attempt on their lives, but those who had, had mixed with those who had not, and they could no longer be separated. People peered out at them through windows, but there were no further attempts to interfere with the group’s departure. Dead congregation members littered the street. The team was too occupied attending to their wounded, calming the children, and loading supplies to worry over the dead bodies of would-be killers.
A woman, who had once baked them the best apple pie they had ever tasted, came outside and approached Brandon and Nick. She tried to smile, but it faded under the contemptuous looks of the two young men.
“I … I know I have no right to ask, but would it be all right if we buried our loved ones?”
Brandon stared at her. His eyes were icy and cold.
“You can do that after we’re gone. Tell the rest of them that anyone comes outside, and they join their friends there in the street.”
The woman sobbed and then scurried back to her doorway. She looked back several times, fearful that they might decide to kill her anyway.
“That’s cold, dude,” Nick said, but his words lacked any real emotion.
“Fuck ’em,” Brandon replied.
Three former residents were honored with a proper burial. Brad, Golden, and Annie took shovels from the garage and Brad respectfully carried Pam’s severed head in a towel. They had found Pam’s body in the woods. They buried Bob, Pam, and Kira beyond the walls of the fort, in a small grassy clearing in the woods. They constructed makeshift head stones for their deceased friends and each gave a silent prayer. Annie added a second stone marker to Kira’s grave.
“What’s that for?” Brad asked.
“One for Kira and one for Dani,” she said.
The Tahoe had suffered a number of bullet holes and lost a couple of windows, but other than that, it was still operational. Golden’s crash through the fence had not done any damage to the Escalade. They emptied the Escalade’s cargo area and folded down the seats to provide room for Adam. Thorn would ride in back and monitor Adam’s condition.
“How are they?” Devin asked as he limped into the dining hall.
Tables were drawn together to provide the makeshift beds where Adam and Austin each lay. Around Adam’s bed were discarded blood-soaked towels.
Austin sat up slowly.
“Well, I’ll live,” he said.
“Quite the demonstration out there,” Devin said to his brother.
“Yeah, sorry. I kind of lost my shit for a minute.”
Devin looked into his brother’s eyes. They both knew that his actions had gone way beyond the “loss of one’s shit.” Devin didn’t know the cause, but he was certain anger alone didn’t explain it. Austin knew it too, and he avoided his brother’s stare. There were too many people around to ask further questions, so Devin let it drop for the time.
“I’m fine. I’ll go outside and help the others,” Austin said and slid off the table. He wobbled a little but then straightened.
“Is he, Doc?” Devin asked Thorn.
Thorn looked at Austin and said, “Just take it easy, okay?”
Austin nodded and went outside.
“Is he really fine?” Devin asked again.
“For the moment, I think so, but I need to find a stronger antibiotic,” Thorn answered.
“What about Adam?” Devin asked and limped to his friend’s side.
“He’s stable for now, but we need to find a hospital or clinic where I can open him up and make sure there’s no internal bleeding.”
“You know how to do that?” Devin asked.
Thorn laughed.
“Yes, Devin, in oncology we perform surgery.”
“Okay, so we find a hospital,” Devin said.
“What about you? How is that knee?”
“Freakin’ hurts but I’ll live too.”
“Any chance you’ll agree to stay off it for five minutes?” Thorn asked and gave his friend a tired smile.
“Sure, as soon as we’re on the road, which, by the way, I want to happen as soon as you can move Adam.”
“We can move him now. More time here is not working in his favor.”
“I’ll get the others to help you carry him out.”
They had agreed that they would depart through the back entrance. The access road that Bob and Pam had selected connected to another country road that then emptied onto State Road 33. State Road 33 wound its way into Alabama. They had taken the children into the school where Caroline had given them lunch and calmed their nerves after the horrific events of the day. The kids remained resilient to a degree that Caroline privately considered unhealthy. Had Pam been alive, she could have explained it to Caroline.
They moved the SUVs into positions in front of and behind the van, and then they brought the kids out. The first Creepers charged through the front gate while half the children still waited to get in the van. Dr. Scott’s experimentations with his lab Creepers must have slowed the natural process of the captives. The Creepers that charged them showed much greater evolution. Their jaws yawned with impossible width, and large muscles pulsed and bulged on the sides of their faces. The fingers looked thicker and longer and appeared tipped with dark clawlike nails. The changes had not improved their agility, and they still ran in an awkward gallop. The eyes were different too. Still a blue and white haze yet they seemed to possess a greater awareness, and their attack looked more purposeful. Some of the Creepers stopped to taste the dead bodies on the street. Most charged on toward the team.
There were no heroics this time. There was no pretty dance of death, no V-shaped assault, and no loud music. The team was too tired for it. Instead, they formed a short line and picked off the creatures as they approached. Devin took a glance at his brother to see if anything in his demeanor gave indication of his previous behavior. Austin seemed as normal as one could when engaged in the killing of murderous infected human beings.
Several of the Creepers sensed easier targets within the buildings, and they broke through doors and windows to attack the hiding congregation members. Over the sounds of the gunfire, they could hear the screams inside the buildings. Thoughts of a rescue for the weaponless people of Fort New Hope never surfaced. The team stayed their ground until the last child was inside the van and the SUV’s respective drivers were in place. Then they piled into the vehicles and departed.
As they pulled away, Golden yanked Devin’s sleeve and pointed out the window. At first, he didn’t understand what she wanted him to see. She pointed again, and he followed the path of her finger. There at the back of the horde, he saw the face. Brandon saw it too.
“Holy fuck! Is that—?”
“Connor,” Devin answered.
“But, I mean, how?”
“I don’t know. Drive.”
Brandon drove.
Paper castles in the wind
They sped down the access road and away from Fort New Hope. Devin closed his eyes and, in quiet contemplation, considered how it was that his former friend had traveled such distance. He wondered why Connor would follow them and, more importantly, how his infected friend had found them. He thought about the precious time they had wasted by remaining at the fort. He thought about how that decision had nearly cost them their lives. He thought about the lives it had cost. He thought about Adam, and he thought about his brother.
Brandon sensed his friend’s melancholy.
/> “What do we do now?” he asked in a quiet voice.
Devin remained silent, and Brandon let the question drop.
“We follow the plan,” Devin finally replied. He was quiet again for a while, and then he said, “Just like we should have done before I let false hope get in the way.”
“It’s what we all wanted,” Brandon said, but his friend turned back toward the window and was silent.
A few miles farther, they approached three people walking along the roadside. The three walkers turned their familiar faces to watch the approach of the vehicles. Brandon and Devin recognized them from Fort New Hope.
“Do we stop and pick them up?” Brandon asked.
Devin shook his head.
“No, keep going,” he said. “Let their God take care of them.”
The vehicles sped by the expectant faces.
“We need to find that hospital soon,” Thorn called from the cargo area. “Adam’s bleeding has started again.”
Devin nodded and searched the GPS unit’s map. He found a clinic on their route. It was fifty miles away. They could be there in less than an hour. The Creepers would make it in a day or two at the most. He had no doubt they intended to follow.
More impossible choices. The life of his friend or the safety of the group? He didn’t need to take a poll to know how his companions would vote.
“There’s a surgical clinic about forty minutes from here,” Devin said.
“I can keep it together that long,” Thorn replied.
Devin turned and looked out the window at the passing countryside. He wondered if there really were any safe places left. He wondered if his father’s plan was the correct one to follow. He wondered if it was all worth it.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to look at its owner.
Golden’s blue eyes met his. She gave him a little smile. You had to look closely to see it. These days, her smile was a delicate thing that was easy to miss. He put his hand on hers.
You and Me against the World: The Creepers Saga Book 1 Page 29