by Micah Gurley
Neil walked farther out into the parking lot, trying to get a better view down the road that led to town. It was a small, paved two way that was surrounded by Pines and a grassy run offs on both sides. Neil took a quick look at the motel to see the teen talking excitedly with two others, then all of them took off running. Satisfied, Neil turned back around, not having to worry about them getting ready.
Neil neared the road, and stopped. He didn't see anything, but something wasn't right. He waited and listened. Nothing. Only silence. Then, he heard it. It was a low moan, almost as if a giant were humming. Neil stayed still, eyes straining, the noise growing louder in the distance. His heart stopped when he saw them.
Initially, he thought he was looking at the road, the black top blurring against the gray sky, but realized there wasn't any line and the black shape moved slightly in the distant horizon. A solid wall of the diseased, from one side of the road to the other, was headed towards them. Neil turned and ran.
Neil ran, desperation filling him at the sight of the dead, directly towards the main lobby of the hotel. He slammed through the doors to find chaos among the survivors. They were everywhere, slamming into each other, carrying boxes, clothes and other assortments in an attempt to get organized. They were panicked and running in circles. Neil's voice snapped like iron across the lobby. "Stop."
All motion ceased and heads turned in Neil's directions. Frightened eyes, only seeking direction and safety, looked at him. Neil put his arms down. "They're coming. Be calm, but quick, and get to the boats with as much food as you can carry, nothing else. You only have minutes. Now go."
Neil watched as the people resumed their activity, this time in an orderly fashion. He turned left and ran down a small hallways, to the room he'd claimed as his. He opened the door, grabbed his rifle and go bag he kept in case of emergencies, and headed out the door. He could come back for anything else, if he needed it. He ran out the back entrance of the hotel to find a dozen people frantically running towards the boats they'd staged. He needed to find the rest of them. He threw his bag into a small pontoon boat tied to the dock and went back out front.
He zipped back through the lobby, yelling at people to move faster, and emerged out the front again. Neil had to keep himself from turning around and leaving everyone else behind. He mastered himself, this was his time. The horde, in their thousands, made it to the edge of the parking lot and were spreading out. Drawn by the noise and sight of people scurrying, the fastest of the diseased were half way across the gravel parking lot.
Neil scanned the area and saw people on the far side of the motel, near the marina office. He'd buy his people the time they needed. He unslung his rifle and mentally rushed his people along. He turned to the diseased, whose low, menacing growls were thunderous in their numbers.
Controlling his breathing, knowing he needed to keep his people safe, he took a knee and brought his rifle up. He easily zeroed in on the closest diseased and put them down with a quick head shot. He shifted his EO-Tech slightly and put the red dot on the next diseased, a teen with a blood covered hole for an ear. Crack. The teen dropped, his head smacking the gravel. Neil spent his magazine in less than minute. No good. There were too many of them.
The diseased, their white eyes seeming to laugh at the thrill of the hunt, focused on Neil, the soul target in front of them. Neil tried to drop back slowly, a tactical retreat, but there was no moving slow in the face of these creatures. They pushed forward, tripping, stumbling, falling to the ground in uncoordinated aggression to get to him. Those that fell were trampled by those pushing behind them. Neil gave up, almost panicked, and ran for the glass doors, rushing through them and locking them. A wasted effort, he knew, but maybe it would hold them off a few minutes. He soon found out, they would need more time than that.
Neil was astonished to find people still moving about the hotel lobby, packing, talking as if their lives weren't at stake.
"Leave now! To the boats!" screamed Neil, hysteria taking over his carefully planned persona.
"We're almost packed Commander," one of the survivors called back, his hands full of clothes and food.
"Leave it, we must leave now," said Neil. The words had barely left his lips when a thunderous crash came from behind him. Neil whirled to find the front doors shaking in their frames, the diseased crammed up against it like shoppers on Black Friday. Screams and yells came from the hotel lobby as their nightmares came to life. People panicked and ran in all directions, bumping, hitting each other as all form of discipline and deliberate action were replaced by mind controlling fear.
Neil stood there, not knowing how to get things back under control, how to help these people. He heard the creak of metal bending, glass shattering under the weight of the diseased pressing against it, and knew it was too late. "Run now or you're dead."
He could do no more for them. Neil turned and ran towards the entrance at the back of the lobby, others following him on instinct. He raced through the doors, the others behind him, hitting it at the same time, creating a bottle neck, slowing them down further. Neil heard the first scream, a scream full of fear and pain. He knew it was human. It was a woman, but Neil was passed it now and didn't turn around. The scream didn't last, but was soon replaced by others. Neil kept running. He neared the wooden dock, which was directly outside the back door and was horrified to find all four boats they'd prepared were still tied to the dock.
"Cut the lines now," screamed Neil as he darted to the right where his pontoon boat was tied by itself. He reached the narrow boat in less than a minute, quickly cut the rope and pushed the light craft out into the waterway. After a few feet, he jumped into the backwards moving boat and quickly looked back around to make sure none of the diseased were near him. They weren't. They had easier targets.
Neil looked at the dock, not more than 10 feet from himself, as his boat slowly moved farther into the waterway. The diseased streamed out the back doors, and onto the wooden dock. There was so many of them, they couldn't fit on the dock, and began falling into the water. Frantic shouts and curses fill the air, the survivors scurried to cut the ropes, to free the boats, but their hands shook too badly to hold the knives.
The first boat was reached, the diseased spilling into it like an unstoppable lava slide. In seconds, the survivors were surrounded and torn apart, their tortured voices lasting only seconds before they were silenced. The rest of the boats fell, one after another, in seconds. The last survivors, desperate, tried diving into the water to escape, but even that was no use. So great was the multitude that hundreds dropped into the water, creating a walkway of human diseased, until they were able to reach their prey.
In less than two minutes, all the screams, all the frantic pleas and desperate yells for deliverance stopped. More than thirty people died under the weight of thousands of diseased, the blood covered bodies and inhuman growls filling the night like a field of locus.
Neil kept the presence of mind to take out the oars and paddle a few times, putting more distance between himself and the awe inspiring nightmare behind him. He dropped the oars and watched the disease try and reach him, hundreds more dropping into the water, creating a mountain of inflicted that reached higher and higher as they kept coming. The diseased kept their heads lifted into the air, as if communicating with a deity. Their heads snapped back and forth in an attempt to follow his progress, the prey that escaped.
Neil sat in shock, unable to breath at the death of all those people. He wasn't able to comprehend, to form thoughts of what he'd witnessed. Despair filled him at the unstoppable tide that opposed him, and all mankind. There was no chance against them. He'd tried to save people, but failed. He wasn't strong enough. No, it wasn't his fault! This was a crime, a deliberate action against him, and innocent people had paid the price.
Kyle Smalls.
Kyle did this, he killed these people. Kyle caused Neil to fail at protecting them, caused Neil to fail at being what he knew he should be, a leader of men. A commander.
Neil had no misconceptions about defeating what he'd just seen, it was their world now, no one and nothing could stop what he'd just seen. But he could take revenge on the person who caused today to happen, who caused the death of Yolanda and so many more. He would make sure Kyle was punished and he fully accepted that it would be the last thing he ever did.
Chapter 10
James lifted his head, taking a look at the round office clock on the wall. An hour. An hour since Kyle was knocked out. James had made another trip around the office, making sure it was safe and looking for anything that would be useful to them. He found plenty, but nothing they could carry now that they were on foot. During his check of the place, he'd spotted a small hallway, which led to a large metal door at the end of the hallway; a safe. He hadn't gone in, why would he? He didn't know how to get into a safe. He'd just have to wait for Kyle, maybe he'd have an idea. James sat down and put a finger on Kyle's neck, still there. He leaned back against the cubicle wall and wondered how long he should wait for Kyle to regain consciousness. He decided to give him a little slap. Maybe that would do the trick.
He leaned up and gave Kyle a small smack across the face. Kyle looked up, eyes wide, hand instinctively going for his berretta. James immediately grabbed Kyle's arm to keep him from reaching the weapon and said softly, "It's me Kyle, we're safe."
James let go of his arm as he saw Kyle get hold of himself and look around. James gave it a few seconds before he said anything, allowing his friend to get his bearings and, no doubt, allow his heart to fall back into his chest. James finally spoke. "You were knocked out when you put the truck into drive. Didn't make it out of the door jam in time. I got us inside and dealt with a few diseased in here, but I think we're surrounded. Most of them followed your diversion, but you can hear some outside."
Kyle looked up at him, his eyes tracking the gloom of the office. "You saved my life, but more than that, that's the most I've heard you talk in quite some time."
Kyle's response made James give a small, deep throated laugh. "It needed to be said, most things don't."
"True enough," said Kyle as he put his hand to his head. Sore. He felt around his head. Tender, but he didn't find any blood. His chest hurt and he placed a hand on his left side. Kyle sucked air and quickly took his hand off. He'd either broken or bruised one or more of his ribs. It hurt, but he'd survive. He'd been lucky in more ways than one. A head injury could be just as deadly as the diseased. He looked back at James, his emotionless face staring back at him. He shook his head slightly, feeling for pain and grunted to himself. He was okay. "Anything else?"
"I found the safe, but it looks locked."
Kyle nodded. "Let's see, shall we?"
James got to his feet in one swift move, and reached a hand down to Kyle, who wasn't up to moving that fast yet. Kyle took the hand and allowed himself to be pulled up, his bruised rib immediately letting itself be known. Kyle took longer than he would have liked sucking air in, but finally got it under control. He checked his weapons and stretched a little, trying to loosen up a bit. He took inventory of the rest of his body, hoping he didn't have any more injuries, and then reached for his rifle.
James led the way through the cubicle filled office, with Kyle following. Kyle couldn't help but notice the blood stains on the floor. As they walked past an aisle, Kyle saw a pile of bodies, lying underneath a blanket, which James had no doubt place on top. Kyle walked on, wondering at how many diseased James killed.
"Some of these were already dead when I came in," said James, as he walked past the aisle. Kyle didn't say anything. He was in awe of the fierce guy in front of him. He felt more than grateful for what James had done, and by himself, all the while moving him inside.
"This hallway here," said James as he came to an entrance that led down a white painted corridor. Kyle took a look down the narrow space and easily saw the gray safe sporting a wagon wheel looking device on the outside. Kyle walked into the corridor, James following a stop behind. Kyle stopped a few feet from the safe and cursed himself for not thinking about a safe. How he could have planned for a safe, he wasn't sure, but they needed the guns and ammunition.
On a whim, Kyle grabbed the wagon wheel device on the front of the antiquated safe and it whirled easily in his hands. He decided to give it a little pull and see what happened. Bad idea. He almost bent over in pain, as pulling the door seemed to pull the rib from his chest. He exhaled a loud breath and felt James reach next to him and grab the wheel. Kyle let go, his pride giving way, and moved to the side so James could pull more easily.
It moved.
"Well, problem solved," said Kyle, happy that something was going their way for once.
James pulled harder on the door and it began to move slowly. As the door opened farther, a hand holding a gun popped out and a warning followed. "Get back, I got a gun and I'll shoot."
Kyle could see, through the crack, half of a woman pointing a gun exactly where he was standing. Kyle took a moment and looked at James, who raised an eyebrow as if to ask if he could take care of this. James responded without any hint he received the request, but, in a flash, grabbed the barrel of the protruding gun and flipped it backwards. The woman inside yelled in pain and quickly let go of the weapon, withdrawing her arm back inside.
"Stay back, I've got another one in here and I'll shoot if you come in."
Kyle had taken the moment to move away from the crack in the door, no need to tempt her. "Don't shoot, we're not here to hurt you. We just need some guns to survive out there."
"I know what you want mister, and you're not going to get it from me. You probably are one of those things anyways.
"Mister?" Kyle whispered to James, who gave a small smile. He spoke louder. "Ma'am, we're not here to jump you, but things have gotten out of hand outside this building and we need those guns. If it helps, I'm former army and I'll gladly leave an IOU."
"Very funny, army man. I know what's going on outside. Why do you think I'm in here? My shipmates all got sick and started attacking each other and so I slipped in here."
Kyle nodded."Good thinking. We both worked at a Nuclear power plant down the road and when things went south, we holed up at Fort Macon to keep us safe."
"Fort Macon? The museum?"
"A museum with high walls and a good old fashioned moat."
"Good thinking yourself."
"Thanks."
"Doesn't mean I trust you," the woman said.
"You can keep us covered the whole time, we just need some ammunition and maybe a few rifles if you got them. Have you considered what you're going to do? How you're going to get out of here? You can come with us. There are plenty of woman inside the fort."
The woman didn't answer. Kyle and James looked at each other, waiting for a decision from the woman. From Kyle's point of view, the woman didn't have a lot of choices. She could stay here, but for how long?
"Okay, you can come in, but I'll be keeping you covered the whole time. And no funny business!"
Kyle smiled and James pulled the heavy door the rest of the way open. Kyle put his hands up in the air, thinking it might help disarm the woman. He didn't want to get shot on accident.
Kyle looked in the safe, no bigger than a walk in closet. His breath was drawn from his lungs and it didn't have anything to do with his busted rib. A slim woman of about twenty five, with the brightest green eyes he'd ever seen, stood looking back at him from a face that made porcelain seem dim. She had dark red hair, which was pulled tightly into a pony tail, and she wore a dark blue Coast Guard uniform, with a small name patch that read, Jones. Kyle stopped himself from staring and noticed how confident she seemed now, both in her situation and with the handgun in her hands.
"Hello Petty Officer Jones, I'm Kyle and this is James," said Kyle as his friend walked around the safe door. Kyle noticed her eyes widen when she saw James, and knew exactly what she was experiencing. James seemed a little intimidating at the best of times. Now with the emergency lighting throwing red shadows
all over the place, he looked like a minion from the dark side.
"Nice to meet you, Apollo Creed," she said without a smile. Kyle gave a laugh, which caused her to turn her head a little in question. Kyle approved of any girl who liked Rocky. He liked her, now he just needed her to stop pointing a gun at him. "You can take two hand guns and some rounds for them."
Kyle hadn't expected that. "Petty Officer Jones, what will it take for you to trust us? We're not here to hurt you."
The woman looked from Kyle to James, who had taken a step inside the armory, seemingly filling it with his presence. Kyle took the opportunity and, quicker that she could react, disarmed her in a smooth move. He'd never done the move outside of practice but it worked better than he thought it would. He took the gun and stepped back from the woman, whose piercing eyes widened in fear at the turnabout of her fortunes.
Kyle raised the gun and looked at it. Something felt wrong. He smiled when he noticed the empty magazine well. He looked around the small armory, ignoring the frightened woman, and found a large stack of loaded magazines sitting on one of the shelves. He reached over, grabbed one and inserted it into the handgun. He pulled the slide back and let it go forward, placing a round in the barrel. He looked back at the woman, who had moved as far away from the two men as she could. Kyle turned the weapon around in his hand and handed it back to her.
Petty Officer Jones looked at the offered weapon and then back to Kyle who said, "We're not here to hurt you, but we need more than just two handguns to keep our people alive. We can be gone in ten minutes if you want."
Petty Officer Jones took the handgun from Kyle, who sincerely hoped he'd made the right decision. She turned the weapon around for a minute and pointed it at Kyle. James gave indication he was about to move, but Kyle held up a hand to him. The woman kept the poise for what seemed to Kyle like a lifetime, then lowered the weapon and put it in the back of her pants.
"My name is Grace. There are tactical bags in the corner that you can use."