Apokalypsis | Book 5 | Apokalypsis 5

by Morris, Kate

  Spencer and Wren joined them a moment later, she on her stomach, he squatted behind the open door.

  “We couldn’t lock anything. The stairway up doesn’t have a door. We set some things in front of it and on the stairs in case one of them comes in, we’ll hear it.”

  “It’ll have to do for now,” Roman said.

  “Where’d they go?” Wren whispered and touched the dog’s back when it whined softly. It immediately settled under her hand.

  “They started fighting with each other,” he told them. “Some went that way. Others went north.”

  Suddenly, one of the horses came flying into view from the side of the barn where it must’ve been grazing on last night’s hay he’d dropped. A moment later, a night crawler tore after it. They were so fast, probably faster than him. They also didn’t seem so impeded by the deep snow. It attempted to grab the horse’s rear end, which caused it to scream and buck. The animal managed to land a kick against the night crawler’s shoulder, which hit with a heavy thud, causing the infected person to fall against the wooden fence. The horse had fear propelling it, so the match was uneven as it rushed toward its mates. Then they all fled together to the far corner of the long pasture and pranced, snorted, and stomped for good measure. Horses were skittish animals in his limited experience from working at the barn with Jane. Roman wished they could go back to that time when he’d hang around the barn, hoping to spend a few minutes with her. Things had been going so well between them, too, until the universe decided to play this nasty plague trick on them.

  The one that had chased the horse scooped up some grain and attempted to eat it before running off again.

  Beside him, the dog growled low in her throat again.

  “Shh, easy,” Wren whispered, quieting it again.

  Unfortunately, a moment later, a ruckus in the barnyard assaulted their ears. The dog had only been alerting them.

  Then one of them did that awful screaming thing they did. How they even made that sound, Roman couldn’t say. He certainly wasn’t able to make it. The dog panted this time as if anticipating something.

  “There,” Spencer whispered, pointing toward the house. “It’s trying doors.”

  Motor skills. They were still holding onto some of them, unfortunately. His heartbeat sped up as another sound, closer this time, echoed up into the loft.

  “Are they in the barn beneath us?” Jane whispered with a bit of frantic panic in her small voice.

  “Steady,” he warned and held his finger to his lips while back-crawling away from the big open door. He motioned for Jane to follow. She did so without making a single noise.

  Wren made a tiny clicking sound with her tongue, and the dog also crawled backward and followed her. They stood together against the wall facing the only set of stairs that would lead to the loft, the dog panting heavier now. Wren stroked its big head.

  Another scream outside alerted them, and Roman peeked out to observe as two of them chased a cow. It got away with a bucking motion and ran toward the horses.

  “They’re hungry,” Spencer remarked, not at all helping the situation or the nerves.

  Jane nodded and hit Roman with frightened hazel eyes. He cupped her cheek.

  “We’re okay,” he said and hoped it was the truth.

  Then it was quiet, and that was maybe worse than the noises.

  Another screech nearer to the house sounded off then, and one further away seemed to echo it as if they were communicating. The last thing the non-infected needed was for the infected to begin working together. They were hard enough to avoid or defeat without them forming packs like wolves.

  “What was that?” Wren whispered almost frantically and stood still.

  “What?” Spencer asked for clarification. Roman wasn’t sure what she meant, either. “I didn’t…”

  “Shh!” she said and looked up.

  A second later, they all heard it. Something was clamoring around on the roof, the tall, steep, and at least three stories high roof of the old bank barn. Roman wasn’t afraid of heights, had done some rock climbing in his time, but even he wasn’t too sure he’d walk around on a steep, very high barn roof covered in wet, slippery snow.

  It screamed, followed by a sliding noise and a thud near them. Another series of grunts and screeches came next.

  Spencer held up three fingers and mouthed a word with a questioning expression. Roman agreed. It sounded like more than one on the roof, maybe three. The dog mewled and pranced in place with its front paws. Wren quieted her again as the things on the roof scrambled. Beside him, Jane grabbed his arm and pointed with her free hand.

  “Roman!” she whispered.

  He leaned forward to peer past her out the open door. Two of them were in the loafing area on the concrete pad. They were approaching the barn slowly, but they were still approaching it.

  Then, as if it couldn’t get worse, whatever noise trap Spencer and Wren set up clanked loudly. It sounded like metal buckets full of nails or glass jars being stepped on and knocked over on the stairs.

  “Showtime, folks,” Spencer stated softly and with a firm nod as he led the way to the stairwell and waited.

  One of them was on the steps. It was fumbling around, tripping, making a racket. Outside, another screamed, probably from the noise the other was causing.

  “Ready?” Spencer asked Wren, who nodded.

  Roman waited with Jane. A stairwell was no place to crowd up. He kept watch on the situation around them instead. Jane was staring outside, watching whatever was going on out there. The sun was up, but it was still a little overcast and hazy.

  Spencer stepped into the stairwell space just slightly and risked a quick glance. A second later, he fired off a round. It was followed by a scream of pain and a thump.

  “Back, back!” he whispered frantically and moved quickly with Wren and her dog toward them. On his retreat, he set an old rope down and a metal hubcap.

  “Did you kill it?” Roman whispered.

  He shook his head. “It’ll bleed out.”

  Another scream was heard by all as the wounded man hobbled out into the barnyard and fell. Soon, the snow was tainted with its blood, as Spencer had predicted.

  The noise on the roof escalated. The night crawlers knew they were inside. Now, they’d never leave.

  A banging noise behind them alerted Roman, and he swung his rifle that way. A night crawler was living up to its name as it came down the side of the barn.

  “We have to fight this out,” Spencer said quietly. “It’s too late to think they’re leaving. Are you guys ready for this?”

  “Too late now,” Wren said and stalked forward.

  As soon as the crawler’s torso was visible through the glass window, Wren fired a round and hit it square in the stomach. It screamed and fell with the shattered glass to the barnyard below. Roman wished they had silencers. He’d read many articles about them, making them homemade even. It was the first thing he was going to get to work on if they made it out of this. If.

  Jane squeaked behind him, which made him swing quickly in her direction, knowing she wouldn’t make noise if it weren’t necessary. One of them was doing the same as its cohort in crime by sliding down the wall. However, this one swung its legs, pumping hard and trying to breach the open hay doors. It missed and fell to the concrete below with a pained screech of terror. Roman rushed over to see it crawling away. His left leg was severely broken, and it was howling in pain.

  “Oh!” Jane gasped as another one ran over to it and began pummeling it with absolutely zero empathy or care. Roman pulled her away from the opening. It was as if the infected would attack anything weak, almost like heartless animals such as hyenas or alligators.

  More rattling on the stairs drew Spencer away as Wren prowled the top floor with her dog.

  “Roman!” Jane called softly. “More are coming!”

  He nodded and took a knee in the opening. No sense in hiding now. Instead, he raised his rifle to his shoulder, leaned slight
ly against the door for better balance and a steadier shot, and took aim. She was right. They were running across the field toward them, probably five or six.

  “Jane, hit the ones that come close,” he instructed. “I’ll take out the others long range.”

  “I’ll try,” she said in a tiny voice that held little to no confidence in her ability.

  “You can do it. Just relax and hold your breath when you squeeze the trigger.”

  Roman zeroed in on one and pulled the trigger. It screamed. Man, he hated it when they made those sounds. They were blood-curdling in pitch and volume. However, it fell to the ground writhing.

  Behind him, the dog barked. It was followed by a gunshot.

  “Good girl,” Wren praised as Roman took aim again at another.

  They were slightly clustered together, so he tried for the one on the outside far right. He missed, cursed, and aimed again. This time it hit the one next to it. That caused the other on the outside to split off and run due east. Roman figured he couldn’t hit it now, so he focused on the other two.

  Beside him, Jane fired off two quick rounds. Something screamed below them in the barnyard, so she must’ve hit it. Good.

  Roman shot another, and Spencer joined him.

  “Wren’s got our six,” he said, to which Roman gave a curt nod and aimed again.

  They were running so fast he had to lead his shot when they darted to the left or right. The angle was tricky, too, being up so high, the barnyard being low, and the field even lower. He didn’t have experience with this sort of shooting, but he did manage to take out two more while Spencer shot three. Then it grew quiet again.

  Wren’s dog scratched twice at the floor as if still agitated. Roman could relate. None of them were breathing. Everyone was just waiting to see if another human hybrid would go running across the field or out of the shadows.

  Dawn had broken during the skirmish, but it wasn’t sunny. It might not be all day. Ohio was like that. Just because the sun was up didn’t mean it would make an appearance. He just hoped it didn’t mean more snow. He also didn’t want the cloud cover to get heavier. Those things were already out and about. More would come. He figured they were out because the sun had only just risen, and they hadn’t taken sanctuary somewhere just yet. And hunger. That was probably a significant factor in their boldness.

  “Are they gone? Was that it?” Jane whispered nearby.

  Nobody answered because none of them was sure if it was safe yet. Spencer sniffed, Wren held completely silent and still except for the barrel of her rifle that she swung slowly back and forth watching the field, and Roman finally released his breath and took another. They stayed this way for a long time. Even the dog understood the importance of being silent and still.

  “I don’t see anything,” Spencer finally said.

  “Me either,” Wren concurred.

  He lowered his gun and took out his small, compact binoculars and continued to spy. The cows and horses began grazing again, so he speculated that as a good sign. Animals would know if those things were still near.

  “I think it’s clear,” Roman said and stepped back for a moment to talk to the others. “It’s light out. I think we’re safer now anyway.”

  “Weird they were even still moving around with the sun up,” Spencer said.

  “Maybe they’re getting bolder because they’re hungry,” Wren said, echoing his unspoken opinion.

  “That’s a frightening thought,” Jane said. “It’s bad enough that we have to be afraid of them attacking us at night. Now, they’re coming out during the day?”

  “Not necessarily,” Spencer rebutted. “It could just be that they were still lingering around before dawn. Maybe the horses and cows drew them in with their whinnies and stuff since we came here to feed them.”

  That didn’t make a lot of sense because they had to have come from somewhere nearby. It’s not like any of them drove.

  Roman looked at Spencer, who lowered his eyes as if he didn’t want to try to defend that theory. They both knew. The girls probably did, too. They’d been hiding out in the woods or somewhere close.

  “Now what?” Wren asked impatiently. “They chased off the deer.”

  “Let’s wait and see. The deer might not have gone too far,” Spencer said.

  They walked up to the house, and Jane used the spare key to let them inside to warm up. Signs of her mother were there with a few clean dishes in the dish strainer on the counter, leftovers in the fridge, and a glass in the sink. Her coat and boots were gone, and so was she, but the heat was on, which felt good after being outside in the cold for so long.

  They settled in again, but after an hour and not a single sighting, Roman decided to track into the woods. He was content to go alone, but they all insisted on accompanying him.

  Walking past the dead bodies again was difficult, but they averted their eyes and kept going past the house, through the backyard, and into the deep forest surrounding the property. He knew the layout of this land pretty well because he’d searched it, walked it, and scouted it with Noah and Brian when they’d first moved into Jane’s father’s house. He’d spent many hours walking the woods, trying to memorize his surroundings so he could keep everyone safe.

  “We’ll need to haul all those bodies away,” Roman said. “Predator animals and…non-animals will come in once they start smelling.”

  “Good point,” Spencer agreed, then added, “Keep your heads up, people. There could be more of those people out here.”

  They crested the first hill and kept going. He’d only hunted maybe a dozen times in his youth with his father before his father’s business took off and consumed every waking moment of his time. A lot was riding on this and on his ability to get it done. People were counting on him and not just the ones in Jane’s house anymore.

  A branch a short distance away snapped, and they all froze at the same time. On Spencer’s suggested hand motion, they lowered into squatted positions and waited. His breath came out in pluming vapors and mingled with Jane’s beside him. She didn’t notice because her wide hazel eyes were fixated on the area where the branch snapped.

  A few moments later, a rabbit darted out of the underbrush and took off. He looked at Spencer, who nodded, and they rose again and marched on.

  They came to a dip, a valley of sorts that Roman had traversed before. At the bottom was a shallow stream that was probably about four inches deep.

  “Tracks,” he pointed out in the mud near the creek.

  They climbed the next hill, a much steeper one, and at the top, he offered Jane his hand, which she took. He pulled her up the last steep distance and also to help prevent her from sliding. Wren didn’t need the help and ran up the last ten yards. Spencer did the same.

  “I think they came through here,” he said of the herd.

  “Roman, look,” Jane said, pointing in the distance.

  He stared hard, trying to see through the dense woods and clusters of shrubs and thickets. Then he spotted them. “I see.”

  “Where?” Wren asked, to which he tugged her jacket so that she was closer to his spot. Then he pointed them out for her.

  “Got it.”

  “Look, we can’t all go in from here. One of us is bound to step on a twig or something and alert them,” Roman told them.

  “We’ll all three stay,” Spencer said. “Besides, we can keep an eye out for you while you’re over there in case any of the night crawlers are still out.”

  That sent a shiver of apprehension through him, but he did his best to hide it. Wren was going to shoot the deer from the barn, but now they were relying on him.

  “Thanks,” he said with a nod.

  “Be careful, Roman,” Jane said.

  He offered a half-assed smile and left them.

  It felt odd being alone after what they just went through in the barn, but Roman pushed that feeling of unsafe isolation aside and trekked as quietly as he could to the edge of the forest where he took a one-kneed stance to obs
erve the deer lazily grazing in the open meadow. Their tails would flicker from time to time. Others would jerk their heads up from pawing through the snow as if they sensed danger. Then they’d resume eating with their friends.

  Roman was nervous. He’d only ever hunted with a shotgun. This time he was using her father’s hunting rifle. He’d done fine in the barn, but this was different. An animal would need to be shot wherever its heart was located, which he’d learned from his father. He just hoped it came back to him. He aimed in on a buck with a broad chest and figured that was probably a good location for the heart.

  Taking a deep breath, he quietly loaded another round into the chamber using the bolt. There were so many guns he’d wanted to shoot and own someday as he’d spent his study hall mods in high school scouring gun magazines he concealed in Chemistry or English textbooks. He was getting familiar with those guns now but not in a way he ever would’ve imagined.

  Roman zeroed in on the buck, took a steadying breath as his father had taught him, and squeezed. The report was so loud in the quiet morning air that it even startled him. The buck jumped three feet into the air, so he knew he hit it. However, it stumbled once and didn’t go down. Roman quickly loaded another round and fired again. This time, it fell. The others began freaking out with confusion. Roman made the snap decision to take another one and fired at a bigger buck. He missed and fired once more. It fell over dead as the others fled in a flurry of brown across the field of white.

  Within seconds, his friends joined him.

  “Good shots,” Wren remarked.

  “Thanks,” he said as he stood and followed them out into the field. “We need to take out the gut sack.”

  “Ew,” Jane said quietly.

  “What’s that?” Wren asked.

  “You might not want to watch,” he explained as he knelt beside the first deer.

  “No, I wanna’ learn,” Wren said, her accent thick.

  “Me, too,” Jane agreed. “Just in case, ya’ know?”

  “Alright,” he said and rolled the deer to its back. “Spencer, do you want to hold it like this? Yeah, hold its other leg so that they’re splayed open. Jane, hold this one”