“What’s going on? Why is the door open?” Max indicates the door to the room where the dog now licks his bowl clean.
“I was just feeding him. He is totally harmless. I found some dog food cans in the kitchen. I was just going to get him some more. Come see all the stuff I found.”
Max approaches the intersection of the bedroom door and the hallway with much trepidation. Just because the dog had taken to Brooke did not mean that it would have a similar reaction to him. He peeks his head around the doorway and finds that the animal is already aware of his presence and staring in his direction. Max steps into full view of the door while unconsciously tickling the handle of the gun in his belt. The Shepherd stands and nonchalantly trots over to Max where he nudges Max’s dangling left hand.
“Ahhh, look, he wants you to pet him.”
A thin grin infects Max’s mouth and he complies with the dog’s wish. The dog morphs into one big wagging tail. It wags so enthusiastically that its tail and rear begin moving in tandem in a semicircular motion. Max kneels down and gives the animal a good scratch behind his ears. Looking into its eyes, he is suddenly reminded of the photo of the family next to the lake with the dog-sitting sentinel in the foreground. Now the animal has no one. Max’s grin fades. He gives the dog one final stroke on its head and stands once again.
“Let’s see what you got.”
Brooke is smiling widely at Max and the dog. It was rare for Max to show any affection toward an animal -especially a dog. She doesn’t know what has come over him but between that and his new look she is having a hard time keeping her mind on tasks.
“Oh yeah, come on and take a look while I get him another can of food.”
Max follows her to the kitchen and can’t help but notice a small amount of pep in her step. Something has apparently lifted her spirits slightly but he knows not what. He arrives at the kitchen counter where two flashlights sit face down and ready to shine. In front of him lies an open cabinet stocked with various sundries. He inventories the contents for a moment before refocusing on Brooke who is busy cracking open another can of dog food.
“We’ll take the flash lights, peanut butter, cereal, granola bars and can opener. Leave the rest. Maybe you can find a backpack or something in the kids room while you change,” he reaches for the can, “I’ll feed the dog. We need to be out of here in five.”
And just like that, it was back to business. Brooke gives Max a disappointed smile like a child who has been told that their drawing is adorable but it doesn’t belong on the refrigerator. She hands him the can and heads down the hall to the boy’s room. Max watches as she disappears down the dark hall. He can tell she was expecting something more from him but it would have to wait. Big Mama is in need so he must be in a hurry. He finishes where Brooke left off and opens one additional can for good measure –who knows when and where the dog would find food again. Max walks the food over to the bowl where the dog sits once again, patiently waiting. He can’t help but smile at the innocence of the animal. All they know is what they’ve been taught and this animal has obviously been taught impeccable manners. Max empties both cans into the bowl and watches for a moment as the dog goes to work on it.
“I found this in the kid’s room,” an empty black backpack with red trim lands at Max’s heels, “will that work?”
“Yes, perfect.” Max can tell that Brooke remains a little perturbed but he chooses not to address it.
Once he turns, she stands in the doorway before him wearing vans, grey form-fitting skinny jeans and an oversized white t-shirt with the words Phantom Menace written across the front. She has tied the shirt into a knot over her left hip causing it to pull snug across her chest and revealing a trim waistline. Her hair has been loosely tied up on top of her head and secured with a number 2 pencil. After Max realizes his mouth is hanging agape, he closes it and takes a moment to wonder how a teenage boy could wear jeans of the sort before him. He has never been one for fashion. As a child, his style was street-rat, which he eventually traded for athlete. As long as it didn’t get in his way and it stood up to his regime he could wear it. Brooke on the other hand, had a laid-back fashion sense. Although one might expect her to wear all the latest trendiest gear given her family name, she actually did most of her shopping at discount and thrift stores. She had a way of throwing together the simplest of ensembles and making it not only work, but also turn heads. It is one of the many things that Max loves about her. The fact that she could look so sexy without ever looking like she was trying was an incredible and irresistible turn-on.
“Are you okay?” Brooke asks and Max discovers that although his mouth is now closed he is still staring.
He manages to return his gaze to her face from her hips and is embarrassed to find a knowing –though slight- grin on her face.
“Yeah, you’re good, I mean I’m good.” The rare misstep by Max makes Brooke laugh openly.
Max reaches down for the backpack and searches the pockets to confirm its emptiness.
“Time to pack.”
Max and Brooke head to the kitchen and load the bag with the flashlights, a couple of the more menacing knives, a roll of duct tape he scavenges from under the sink and as much food as it would carry. For now, the tap is still running so they will chance drinking as needed along the way in lieu of packing heavy water. Max slings the pack over his left shoulder and puts one hand on the small of Brooke’s back.
“I’ll leave the back door open for the dog. We may need someplace safe for retreat. Running back here will probably be faster than breaking in somewhere new. Plus, the dog can come and go as he pleases.”
“Ready?” he asks her.
“Let’s do it!” is her reply and Max ushers her toward the back door.
***
Max and Brooke walk quickly and quietly down the alley between houses. Occasionally they pause to listen for footsteps behind them or any sign that someone -or something- might be stalking them. With the exception of one shriek from a distant infected, so far it seems as though they are alone. They keep conversation to a minimum, which suits Max as he tries to wrap his head around the absence of Vinny and the possibility of an infected Big Mama.
Up ahead the familiar rumble of the chain dragging Jeep can be heard. Tires screech, as the vehicle comes to an abrupt halt. Yelling arises from the direction of the street so Max and Brooke duck between two houses for better access to what is being said.
A gruff commanding voice can be heard clearly, once the jeep’s engine is silenced, “Looks like we found ourselves another one of those filthy fuckers. Whose turn is it?”
Another voice, smaller and less sure than the first, “Mine, but I don’t know guys. He doesn’t really look that infected. Maybe he hasn’t been bit.”
“Bullshit!” the gruff voice commands again, this time his thick southern drawl is distinctive, “You got to get them before they fully change and get too strong and fast. This one here is ripe.”
The last sentence was spoken slowly with the last word being stretched to breaking.
As he continues, Max repositions himself closer to the front of the house so he can add a face to the voice, “Christ, you see he’s wearing one of the outfits from the lab rats over at the mall. They probably infected the poor bastard on purpose. You’ll be doing him a favor. Now stop being a pussy and do it for your sister. Just picture the one that took her while you’re bashing his fucking head in.”
Max can see now and recognizes the gruff voiced man as the driver of the Jeep and the quieter one as the man that was nearly thrown free of the vehicle when it hit the pothole earlier. The gruff man –presumably the leader- holds the hockey stick in his hand. Three other men join them and all five of them stand in a circle around someone who is crouching and apparently in pain in the middle of the street.
Max’s ears perk up when the victim-to-be speaks for the first time, “Hey, before you guys act out your favorite scene from Deliverance can I say something?”
Max immed
iately turns to Brooke and the urgency in his eyes is apparent, “Stay here. No matter what you see, do not follow me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, but what’s,” the words come too late as Max has dropped his pack and is already up and walking briskly toward the circle of men.
Chapter 20 - The Changeup
As Max approaches the back of the gruff man with the hockey stick, he is noticed by two of his accomplices standing across from him. Max silences them with a hushing sign made by bringing the barrel of his gun to his lips. The two men stand motionless in wide-eyed alarm as he silently covers the few remaining steps between him and his target. The man flinches as the cold steel of Max’s gun presses against the bald spot on the back of his head.
In his best redneck imitation Max gives the man an ultimatum, “Now look here Hoss, you drop that hockey stick or I’m gonna’ have to get up in your gut like watermelon on Labor Day!”
The balding man attempts to turn his head in order to better gauge the situation but Max discourages this by pressing the barrel deeper into the man’s scalp. The gruff man lets the stick fall to the ground with the hollow sound of clattering wood. Max takes a step back and throws a look of seriousness at another of the men. This one wears a scruffy beard that is offset by deeply penetrating blue eyes. He holds the bat in his hands. Understanding the meaning of Max’s glare, he politely places the bat on the pavement and steps away from it.
“You’ve been holding out on me!” Vinny’s voice is a melody to Max’s ears, “who knew you could do such a convincing redneck impersonation? You’re just full of surprises.”
“Good to see you too Vin,” without wavering his aim from the back of the gruff man’s head, Max nods toward the bat that lies on the ground, “Now do me a favor and pick those up and bring them this way.”
“Sure thing Hoss.” Replies Vinny with a playful smile as he collects the weapons and extracts himself from the circle of his would-be attackers.
Max nods again in the direction of the house from where –presumably- Brooke still waits, “Take those with you over there and wait for me.”
“What are you going to do?” says Vinny with much confusion.
“I’m going to make sure that these gentlemen are done for the evening.”
“Well wouldn’t you like some company?”
“No, not this time Bro. Besides there’s someone over there waiting to see you.”
After hearing that, Vinny immediately turns to the house and breaks into a trot. Max knows that Vinny is not up for what he is about to do and worrying about him getting hurt would only be a hindrance to his efforts. Now alone with the five men, Max can feel the game-time adrenaline course through him like a shot. The pistol begins to tremble slightly in his hand and he knows that he is ready.
“It’s been a rough night. You still got enough bullets in that gun for all five of us?” the redneck speaks calmly, with more confidence than the situation would seem to allow.
Max answers him just as calmly, “I never said I was going to shoot anybody. And by my count there are only four of you.”
Using the butt of the gun Max strikes the man hard in the back of the head and sends him crashing to the pavement unconscious. A thin stream of blood begins to trickle from a two-inch gash in his scalp caused by the butt stroke. Max has effectively cut off the head of the beast. Now, all that remains are the four limbs with which to contend. The question is, who will fight and who will run? How committed are they to each other and what they’ve been doing? The only thing Max is really sure about is that if he doesn’t stop them these men will probably hurt or kill more innocent people. In fact, after this they would more than likely hunt him, Vinny and Brooke itching for some payback. This needs to be nipped in the bud here and now. Max has too many other problems to deal with at the moment. He has no desire to add looking over his shoulder for these five to the list. He views this as a necessary and negligible risk since the men are unarmed and –as far as he can tell- untrained.
“You really think you can take all four of us?” the man to Max’s left asks this question in a faltering voice, in all earnestness and without a hint of the sarcasm that he had probably intended.
Max checks the street and surrounding area for any signs of the infected. Satisfied that they are alone he removes the magazine from the pistol and the bullet from the chamber.
He places all three separate pieces in his pants pockets and says to the man, “Let’s find out.”
***
Vinny turns the corner between the two houses and finds himself face to face with Brooke. He can’t contain a smile so wide that he feels the corners of his mouth may tear at the seams.
“You’re alive!” Brooke exclaims and shock paints her face as well as her body language.
“Of course I am. Max isn’t the only one that knows a thing or two about survival.”
“It’s just that we… Max and I had such a hard time getting out of the mall that I thought no one else could have made it.”
“Well, you’re right. I almost didn’t. When stuff went south in the mall the Colonel in charge ordered that all the doors be chained from the outside. They left us all in there to die. I had a few tight scrapes but eventually I made my way out through a ventilation tube. The good news is that most of the infected in this area of the valley are still trapped inside.”
“I’m glad you’re safe.” Brooke steps into Vinny’s outstretched arms and gives him a long and heartfelt hug that lingers just a little too long for her liking.
She tries to pull away. It feels as though Vinny squeezes just a little tighter, like a constrictor with she as his stunned and wriggling prey. She brings her hands up between her and Vinny and pushes him away. Brooke stands silently trying to read his face for a moment. His expression is too serene –almost satisfied- for the situation from which he was just rescued –not to mention this night in general.
“Where is Max?” she asks.
“Oh, he just had a little business to take care of.”
“What do you mean, business?”
“You know, Max business. Some guys were giving me a hard time. Max is over there doing what he does best.”
“You mean Max saved your butt again, and you left him there to fight alone and in your place?!”
“I’m not worried, he’s a big boy, he can handle himself. And the upside is, if I’m wrong then you’ll still have me to take care of you.”
Brooke is floored by the callousness that Vinny expresses for his supposed best friend, “What’s wrong with you? Have you lost your mind? This is Max we’re talking about. If not for him, you and I would probably be dead right now.”
“Maybe dead… maybe lying naked in my apartment and listening to some Bob Marley. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”
The malevolent smile on Vinny’s face chills Brooke to the bone.
***
Max does a brief assessment of the four remaining men and decides that the one who refused to kill Vinny would be the runner. He would leave that one alone –unless his instincts prove wrong, and if they do then this light exercise could become a real workout. He sets his sights on the man with the scruffy beard and penetrating blue eyes. Since he is the only other man that had been armed, Max assumes that he is the unspoken lieutenant of the group. Max had already chopped off the head of the beast; this man was most likely the heart and therefore will need to be dealt with first. The lieutenant is at least ten feet from Max, so a bit of ground will need to be covered in a hurry if he means to disable him before the other two jump in. Next, the one man that he had heard nothing from would have to be taken care of. He is the unknown variable –a middle-aged man graying at the temples with a slight potbelly- Max doesn’t expect any surprises from him but it’s usually the quiet ones that give you the most trouble. That leaves the talker; he would save him for last. In Max’s experience, the one that talks the most is generally the most frightened. All of their lip flapping is an attempt to not only inf
late their courage but also discourage you from aggression in the process, a case of the bark being worse than the bite. However, they usually don’t run for fear of losing face in front of their friends and deflating their own ego. The entire assessment of the group takes Max no more than a few seconds. Satisfied with his plan of action he wraps his fist around the loose bullet in his pocket and tenses his body for action.
***
Brooke turns toward the street and takes a step in Max’s direction. The short –but disturbing- conversation she’s been having with Vinny has taken a turn for the bizarre and she feels the need to distance herself from him. At the same time, she hopes to change Max’s mind about dispensing his brand of justice on the men from the Jeep. Before she can take a second step, Vinny has her by the arm. His grip is tight. Too tight. Tight enough to make her fingertips tingle.
“Let me go Vinny, you’re hurting me!” she protests.
“It’s time for you and me to stop playing this game of cat and mouse. You need to acknowledge that I’m the cat and you’ve been caught. If you struggle, it will only delay the inevitable. Don’t you see that this was meant to be? You and I are meant to be? I love you Brooke. I always have.” Vinny’s eyes are wide and a bit maniacal.
“There’s something wrong with you Vinny. You don’t know what you’re saying. You need to let me go!” Brooke pulls hard against Vinny’s vice-like grip to no avail, he reels her in like a prize game-fish while grinning ear to ear.
From the street, a cry of pain echoes toward them. The sound brings a halt to their tussle and Vinny loosens his grip but doesn’t release her. They both turn their attention in Max’s direction –Brooke out of fear for Max’s safety, and Vinny, purely out of a morbid curiosity.
***
From the pocket of his cargo pants Max pulls his left fist with the loose bullet hidden within its grasp. After a brief glance in the direction of the talker, Max makes a side handed throw aimed at the surprised man’s face. The bullet hits him squarely in his left cheek before he has a chance to ascertain what is happening. He blinks hard, turns his head and ducks, all of which was Max’s intention. Max meanwhile has covered the ten feet between he and the lieutenant in the blink of an eye. The bearded man has just enough time to get into a fighting stance before Max is on him. Max rushes hard, coming in for a tackle and the man braces for the impact. To the lieutenant’s surprise instead of taking a head-on hit, Max pulls up at the last moment slides to his side and delivers a kick to the back of his left knee. He instantly drops to that knee and turns his head back toward Max in time enough to see a low right cross coming down toward his head. The next thing he sees is blackness and a swirl of what looks like crazed fireflies dancing though his vision. He’s not sure of how long the effect lasts but his consciousness seems to flicker like a faulty bulb as he catches glimpses of his comrades, as the young black man whirlwinds from one point to the next moving more like the infected than any normal human he’s ever seen.
One Blink From Oblivion Page 27