Valkyrie: Rat in the Dumpster

by Tony Bowman

  “God sent us a tank. I say we use it,” Consuela said.

  “I’ll get the shotgun,” Carter said.

  “No. You won’t,” Rat said.

  “What?” Carter asked.

  Katy nodded, “She’s right. You’re the closest thing to a doctor we’re likely to have. We can’t risk you.”

  “Now, wait just a damned minute. If you think I’m going to let…” he stopped himself.

  Katy stared up at him, “Lose the testosterone, Carter. I’ve seen you shoot. You’re better with a suture needle. I’m going, you’re staying.”

  Clint laughed, “She’s right, Doc. And, I’ll be going along as well – that is unless any of you know how to drive a Bradley?”

  Rat smiled, “Do you know how to drive a Bradley?”

  “Little girl, I’ve been training for the ‘pocalypse since 1975. I can drive tanks, Russian made troop carriers – hell, I could fly a helicopter if I had to. Internet’s a wonderful thing.”

  Katy, Clint, and Rat stepped out the front entrance of the Robinson Center. Rat looked behind her as Carter put the chain back in place. He gave her a weak smile and she returned it as she drew the Glock from its holster.

  “Okay, nice and slow,” Katy said. “If we run into the ghouls before we’re halfway to the vehicle, we run back. Understood?”

  “Katy, probably not a good time to tell you I can’t run for shit,” Clint said as he swung the AR-15 at eye level left and right.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be sticking with you, Gramps,” Rat said. “You got the firepower.”

  “Let’s hope we don’t need it,” Katy said as they crossed the steps and stood on the street. She held the shotgun at hip level, having left her pistol with Carter.

  The street was empty.

  “You notice all the bodies are gone on this side of the bridge?” Rat whispered.

  Katy glanced around, “They must have moved them during the night.”

  “No. They ate them,” Clint said. “Radio said they eat the dead.”

  “But, you said you could see dead soldiers on the bridge, right?” Katy whispered.

  “Yeah,” Clint said as they walked up the street toward the bridge.

  “That’s good, isn’t it?” Rat asked. “It means they weren’t on the bridge.”

  “Could also mean they’re working their way toward it. Might be on it now,” Clint answered. He pressed a button on the side of the AR-15 and light from a green laser sight cut through the mist.

  The asphalt street gave way to the concrete of the bridge: four lanes blocked with stalled cars in both directions.

  When the end came, they didn’t know in which direction to flee, Rat thought. They simply fled.

  The cars around them were empty. Their windows were broken, the interiors bloody, but they were empty.

  “Shit,” Rat whispered. She could hear grunting sounds ahead. Snapping sounds and she knew it was the sound of bones breaking.

  They stepped around a panel truck and stopped.

  Ten ghouls sat in a semi-circle facing away from them. Bodies were piled in front of them.

  “God almighty,” Clint whispered.

  Overnight, the ghouls had ceased to look human. Their heads were hairless, their skin a sickly grey. They dripped with the black ichor. It fell from their lips, their eyes. It dripped from their black fingernails that now looked more like talons.

  “Like vultures,” Rat whispered.

  “What?” Katy asked.

  “That ye may eat the flesh of kings, and the flesh of captains, and the flesh of mighty men, and the flesh of horses, and of them that sit on them, and the flesh of all men, both free and bond, both small and great,” Clint whispered. “Revelations. Maybe Consuela is right.”

  “We’re past the halfway mark,” Clint said. “What’s the play, Katy?”

  “We go through,” she whispered. She nudged Rat to the right.

  The three of them stood side by side, four feet apart. The ghouls hadn’t noticed them yet – they were intent on their meal.

  “All right then. Pick your targets. Aim careful. One of them gets through, we’re done,” Clint said. He swung the AR and painted the back of a ghoul’s neck with the laser.

  Rat took aim.

  “Have at ‘em,” Clint said.

  All hell broke loose.

  In the Robinson Center, Consuela knelt with her kids by the front door as the sound of gunfire carried into the lobby. “Padre nuestro que estás en los cielos, santificado sea tu Nombre..”

  Carter put a hand on her shoulder and gripped the Glock tight in his other hand.

  One, two, three, Rat counted her shots as she fired. Each round found its target. Three shots, three dead. Seven ghouls left.

  No, six. Clint had fired once, right?

  Rat tracked to the left – these ghouls in the center were Katy’s responsibility, but Rat aimed and fired as Katy fired the twelve gauge beside her.

  Five, now there were five. Half of them were gone, but they were fast, so fast.

  They had seemed dazed as the first shots rang out, but now the ghouls were reacting. They were running toward her.

  Clint was firing faster, the brass flying out of the ejection port. Each bullet found its mark.

  Rat could see the eyes, the solid black eyes of the nearest ghoul as it ran toward her. It’s black teeth were bared.

  The twelve gauge roared.

  The ghoul’s face disappeared.

  It was over. Ten dead ghouls lay in front of them.

  “We’re alive,” Rat whispered.

  “Yeah, we are,” Clint answered.

  They heard screams behind them.

  Rat looked behind her, far down the street leading to the bridge. Dark shapes moved there. They were running toward the bridge.

  “Oh, my God,” Rat whispered.

  “They heard the shots. Move it, kid,” Clint yelled.

  An army of ghouls ran up the street toward them, cutting off any hope of escape back to the Robinson Center.

  They ran past the dead ghouls toward the Bradley.

  The shooting had stopped. Carter strained to look through the windows at the far end of the atrium, but he could see nothing. “Okay, they’ll be here in a minute,” he said. He handed Luis the Glock.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?” Luis whispered. “I don’t know anything about guns.”

  “Rat showed me, just point it and pull the trigger. I need to get the supplies. Don’t open that door until they’re right outside, okay?”

  Luis looked terrified, “But, what if they don’t make it?”

  “They’ll make it,” Carter whispered.

  The back door to the Bradley was hydraulic and formed a ramp when it was lowered. Rat peered into the cramped interior. Two padded benches ran along both sides.

  It was empty. The engine wasn’t running. In a moment, they would know if it would ever start again.

  If it doesn’t, we’re dead, Rat thought. The screams of the approaching ghouls were louder.

  Clint knelt by one of the dead National Guardsmen, “Hallelujah, M4’s not M4A1’s.”

  “What?” Rat asked.

  “Their rifles. Grab one, and all the magazines you can find…”

  “Shouldn’t we be getting in the tank?” Katy asked.

  “Never, ever, walk past weapons,” Clint yelled. He slung his AR-15 over his shoulder and sighted down the M4. “M4 has a three shot fire mode, M4A1 replaced it with hair-brained full auto. Stupid John Wayne shit. Can’t hit crap in full auto.”

  One ghoul was out ahead of the others.

  Clint took aim and pulled the trigger once. The M4 gave three sharp pops, one after the other, and the ghoul went down.

  Rat grabbed an M4 and ran toward the back of the Bradley.

  Clint glanced left and right toward the advancing horde, “Good idea, kid.” He ran past Katy and Rat up the ramp.

&nbs
p; Rat looked at Katy, “I thought he said he couldn’t run?”

  “I heard that. Get in here!” Clint yelled as he made his way to the front of the Bradley.

  Rat and Katy stood at the top of the ramp and pointed their M4’s out the back.

  Rat suddenly realized she had no idea how the rifle worked.

  “Clint! How do you close this door?” Katy screamed.

  Clint paused for just a second near the front and shoved a lever. The door groaned, and then rose slowly.

  “Well, I’ll be damned. She’s got power. Hydraulics are working,” Clint laughed as he disappeared into the driver’s compartment. “Let’s see if the rest of this shit works.”

  The door was still rising slowly.

  Rat looked at Katy, “Is it supposed to move this slow?”

  A grey hand appeared in the space between the door and the bulkhead directly in front of Rat’s face.

  She screamed as the door continued to close. The creature outside shrieked as the hand was severed at the wrist.

  Katy and Rat stared at the hand lying on the steel deck.

  The Bradley shuddered as a throbbing roar filled the interior.

  “Hot damn! We got half a tank of diesel and she’s purring like a kitten,” Clint yelled over the engine noise.

  Rat could hear cries coming from outside.

  “Damn! We are covered in those ugly bastards. Get up here, Rat,” Clint yelled.

  Rat staggered forward as the Bradley lunged ahead, “What do you want me to do?”

  “Get in the turret. There should be a joystick to the right. Move it around, try to dislodge those bastards.”

  She climbed up into a thin padded seat and found the joystick, “Like this?” She moved it and the turret rotated. There were screams outside as several of the ghouls tumbled to the ground.

  “Keep it up,” Clint said. “Hang on, going to get a little bumpy.”

  The Bradley’s nose rose into the air with a screech of metal.

  “What was that?” Katy yelled.

  “Toyota,” Clint said as the Bradley climbed and crushed the cars beneath it. “Man, I love this thing.”

  “How do I make the guns work?” Rat asked.

  “Joysticks in the center. There’s a viewfinder just above them. Use the one on the right, the other is night vision.”

  Rat looked through the periscope. Ghouls ran toward them up the bridge.

  She pressed the button and the machine guns roared to life. There was no need to aim for their heads, everything the twenty-five millimeter slugs touched disintegrated whether it was a ghoul or an automobile.

  Rat was laughing as the guns roared, deafening her. She had no idea why she was laughing, maybe it was because for the first time in twenty-four hours she felt like she was back in control of her own life. She liked that feeling.

  She let off the trigger, “Hey, Clint?”

  “What?”

  “What’s a T-O-W?” Rat said as she read off the letters over some controls near the machine gun controls.

  “Never you mind about that – it’s a TOW rocket launcher. Keep your hands off that damned thing. You might blow the damned bridge right out from under us.”

  Carter heard loud gunfire coming from the bridge and smiled. That sound meant they had secured the Bradley. He loaded the last of the supplies onto the stretcher.

  He heard the thud and immediately knew what it was. Stages have catwalks. They have ropes and pulleys, they have scaffolding with lights.

  They also have trap doors under the stage.

  Trap doors.

  And, one of them just opened.

  Clint turned left onto the street as Rat swept the machine gun around, clearing the road in both directions. He spun the Bradley around and backed up the steps, stopping just short of the front entrance.

  “Pull that lever below you, Rat,” Clint said.

  The rear door began to lower.

  Rat kept sweeping the machine guns side to side taking out the ghouls as they approached.

  The front entrance opened and Consuela ran up the ramp along with her kids.

  “Where’s Carter?” Katy yelled.

  “I don’t know,” Luis said. “He went back to get the medical supplies.”

  “I’m going after him,” Katy said.

  “No,” Rat yelled. “Get up here and run this machine gun. I’ll get him. Close the rear door when I get clear.”

  “Listen, kid, I’m going to drive down the street and back,” Clint said. “Otherwise, they’re going to mob us.”

  “Just come back for us,” Rat yelled as she ran down the ramp. She closed the door to the Robinson Center.

  Consuela said something to her as the door to the Bradley ground shut, but she couldn’t hear it.

  Rat pulled the Glock from its holster and dropped the magazine. One bullet in the magazine, one in the chamber.

  She pushed past her “kill zone” of tables. An idea they hadn’t needed.

  A figure stood on the stage, lit by the battery powered lanterns that had held the shadows at bay during the long night. Now the cavernous room seemed to be filled with shadows.

  The man on stage wasn’t Carter. He was too short, and he moved in slow, jerking movements.

  Rat knew his clumsy motions would become fluid as soon as he had a target.

  “Hey,” Rat said out loud.

  The ghoul turned and growled.

  She fired once and the ghoul’s throat exploded. It went down instantly.

  “Carter?” Rat called. She was crying. “Carter, where are you?”

  She walked onto the stage, past the dead ghoul.

  The halo of lantern light showed a spatter of bright crimson on the wooden stage.

  “Carter?”

  She crossed the stage, looking at the trap door. Nothing moved. The stretcher lay on its side, the supplies strewn across the stage.

  Light flooded the back of the stage. The door to the roof was open.

  Time to leave, Rat thought. No reason to see. You already know.

  She climbed the stairs.

  She could hear the rumble of the Bradley as Clint cruised back and forth on the street below.

  Rat walked onto the roof. She ran forward as something moved in her periphery.

  Carter stood a few feet to the right of the door.

  Rat backed away. She realized she was walking away from the door, away from her way out, but she couldn’t leave him like this.

  Jack Carter stared at her with eyes leaking black ichor.

  She was crying harder now, “I told you. Damn you, Carter. I told you it wasn’t safe.”

  He moved toward her. He was stumbling as if he was unsure of what he was doing. Then he growled.

  Rat raised the Glock. “We shouldn’t have come here.”

  He moved forward and Rat backed up.

  “Damn you, Carter. Damn you for making me do this,” Rat fired.

  Carter dodged to the left.

  The bullet buried itself in the wooden doorframe.

  Rat looked down at the Glock. Empty.

  Carter was smiling.

  “Yeah, screw you, man,” Rat said. She was standing on the edge, her back to the open air.

  Carter ran toward her.

  “Oh, no,” Clint said. He stared through the viewport at the roof. He stopped the Bradley.

  Rat stood on the edge, and he watched as she fell backward.

  Carter followed, like a trapeze artist flying through the air trying to catch his partner.

  A brick wall stood between the Bradley and the alley, but Clint knew no one could survive a fall from that height.

  “What happened?” Katy asked.

  “They’re gone,” Clint said. He turned the Bradley left and drove onto the bridge. When they reached the other side, he turned to the northwest and home.

  Rat was falling. She felt the wind at her back, that sickening feeling of
weightlessness in her stomach from a thousand childhood nightmares. Only this time she knew she would not awaken with a start - she would bounce on the pavement.

  The Carter ghoul was above her, diving to his own death, trying in vain to reach her with his hands, his teeth.

  Something exploded around her, and the air was filled with the stench of garbage.

  The dumpster, she thought. I landed in the dumpster.

  Trash bags burst open all around her. She hit hard, the wind was knocked out of her and her head ached.

  She was still looking up. Carter. He was still falling toward her.

  But, something black was approaching from her right. The steel door of the dumpster had been propped open against the brick wall of the theater. It had been jarred by the impact and it fell on top of her.

  She caught sight of Carter’s grinning face as the world went black and the steel door was suddenly a gong as Carter crashed against it, bending it in above her.

  Two weeks later… had it been two weeks? She wasn’t sure. It was hard to move around. She ached all over. The bugs were everywhere.

  But, there’s only one Rat. She laughed at this thought. The real rats had left the dumpster. They knew a sinking ship when they saw one.

  The first week she had listened to the ghouls as they prowled outside. She listened as they ate Carter’s body. They were efficient.

  Katy had been wrong: they didn’t need to see you to know you were there. They staggered around outside, their brains unable to comprehend the need to lift the lid. But, they didn’t go far. They could smell her, she knew it.

  The second week, other things had come. They growled louder than the ghouls. Sometimes they howled. They ate the ghouls.

  They could smell her too. Sometimes they tried to lift the lid and Rat held on for dear life. She felt like a clam trying to hold out against a starfish. The starfish always wins in the end.

  It was almost over. She was asleep more often than she was awake. Sooner or later, one of the werewolves would pull the lid open as she slept.

  She heard thunder and smiled. Rain. Water. Maybe the werewolves didn’t like rain. Maybe they would leave for a while, let her die in peace. Maybe the rain water would leak in and she could have a drink. Just a little water and she would die happy.