It wasn’t long before pieces of the barricade were being ripped apart and tossed down the stairs to where other biters were now forming up. These biters were taking the debris and tossing it down into the ground level to expand their pathway to the upper regions of the tower.
But even then, the firepower between the four defenders at the top of the stairs was taking its toll on the biters below. They’d killed or wounded at least six of the biters as they worked to destroy the barricade keeping them from their late-night snacks.
Chris slapped Michael’s shoulder. Michael turned to see Chris pointing toward the other side of the tower. Patrick was yelling something at them, but it was impossible for Michael to hear over the deafening sound of the gunfire echoing inside the tower’s walls and the earplugs he’d managed to get in place.
“What?! What’s he shouting?” Michael glanced at Chris.
“They need help! Too many biters!” Chris literally screamed.
Michael found himself reading Chris’ lips more than hearing him as Ms. Mary fired three more rounds into a biter who had exposed herself at the base of the stairs. The biter had been in the process of dragging away a piece of metal that had been affixed to a shelving unit wedged in place on the stairs.
“Go help them!” he yelled back to Chris.
But by the time Michael glanced back over to where Christine and Patrick were holding the other stairwell, he saw that they were already retreating toward them. A mass of biters were spilling from the office stairwell behind them and out onto the second floor.
“Shit!” Michael hissed, knowing that they were going to have to move up to the third floor.
They risked being cut off should the biters continue up the office stairwell and get ahead of their defensive lines. He nudged his wife and Ms. Mary, and pointed for them to head upstairs to the third floor. Then he grabbed Chris and nodded for him to move upstairs as well.
Michael then turned to cover Christine and Patrick’s retreat, taking out the two biters closest to them.
“Upstairs!” he yelled and gestured up the stairwell as they approached.
They didn’t hesitate, blowing past him and charging up the stairwell to the third floor. Michael took out one more biter coming from the office stairwell side of the tower and then followed them.
On the third floor, the locked and loaded teams of Josh and Julia on the main stairwell side, and Charla and Wendell on the office stairwell side of the tower offered the retreating Blenders a slight reprieve. These scant spare moments were spent catching a few much-needed breathes that were free from concrete dust and gunpowder and exchanging spent magazines for new.
But the reprieve wasn’t to last long. Soon the bullets were flying again. Biters were dying again. And the barricades that the Blenders thought would keep the biters at bay were quickly being ripped apart again.
Downstairs, a large biter, wearing a soiled and ripped blue work uniform coordinated the efforts to infiltrate the tower. Hanging askew from the work shirt’s chest, a sewn on name patch that had been partially torn free read, “Victor”.
Victor viewed tonight’s efforts as more than just an attempt to feed his herd. He realized that the massive stone burrow they were working to overwhelm could provide his herd with a safe place to sleep in and to hunt from. Its towering position over the landscape could assist Victor in spotting future prey, helping him to hunt without ever having to leave the premises.
And while his herd was suffering casualties, Victor was glad to see things were going as he thought they might. Victor had worked hard to teach those in his herd how to push, to pull, to crouch, and to work together either to circumvent or remove obstacles.
His partner in leading the herd, the female he had met long ago and who had been the first to join him, was coordinating the herd’s efforts on the other side of the tower.
Thus far, Victor was pleased with their progress. Those who were being killed were those who had learned the least. While Victor might not have realized it, he was allowing a Darwinian process to thin the weakest from his herd.
Meanwhile, the Blenders found that they were able to hold out longer on the third floor. They were able to combine their firepower and bring the entirety of their numbers to bear on the weaponless biters. The problem was, with these apparently new and improved biters they were combating, the Blenders were burning through their pre-loaded magazines faster than expected.
Michael quickly realized after losing the second floor that he needed to commit more of his available personnel to holding the office-side stairwell. Therefore, he sent Chris to assist Charla, Wendell, Christine, and Patrick. But even by splitting their forces more evenly, within five minutes, the biters had pulled most of their stairwell barricades apart and were gaining the upper hand, getting far too close for comfort.
Most of the Blenders were down to their last few pre-loaded magazines. And once they’d burned through these, they’d be forced to reload by hand. This would prove a much lengthier process, and it would greatly diminish their firing efficiency. But Michael knew there was another cache of arms and pre-loaded magazines awaiting them on the fourth floor. Therefore, he ordered yet another retreat higher into the tower.
And while Michael was growing concerned regarding the number of biters inside their bastion, and saddened by the loss of Manny and Margaret, his Blenders were largely holding to the plan as they’d been trained. He just wished he had a better idea of how many biters there were in this herd. By his best estimate, they’d killed or severely wounded at least 20 biters in his stairwell alone. If they’d killed half as many in the office stairwell, it would put them close to 30. But if there were a hundred or more biters in this herd, there were a lot still left to handle.
And these biters weren’t biters like those they’d been accustomed to dealing with in the past. These biters were different – smarter, more effective in their fighting. Unlike most fighting forces, biters wouldn’t become demoralized or give up when their mounting losses appeared too great. They would often keep coming until the last biter. And Michael realized that this meant their fight was likely far from finished.
* * *
The defenders of Riverport were having a far easier time against an even larger herd of biters now surrounding their own walled bastion. Gunfire could be heard echoing from around the town square as the residents killed biter after biter.
Eric had led newcomers Lance and Max by flashlight to an alley that ran between two buildings at the east side of the square. The second floors of the buildings were built overtop the eight-foot-wide, arched alleyway. The brick-paved alley reminded Max of something out of 19th century London.
“So what are our duties here?” Lance asked as Eric clicked off his flashlight, leaving them in near darkness.
“Just to watch the gate and make sure any biters don’t get through.”
“That’s it?” Lance asked in astonishment. “Isn’t the gate locked?”
“Yeah, but the masonry around the lock is over a hundred years old. We didn’t guard it for a while, but then one time a group of biters bumped into the gate. It broke open and they got inside. Killed a couple of our residents,” he explained. “Ever since, Richard has insisted that someone guard it during attacks.”
“Why don’t you just block it off like it looks like you’ve done the other streets around town?” Lance gave him a questioning stare in the darkness.
“We leave it open as our main way into and out of the city for vehicle traffic. All the other streets leading into the square have been blocked off. This small alley is kind of hidden and out of the way, so Richard thought it would be the best place to leave unblocked. It’s just wide enough for a vehicle to fit through, so we use it to haul our scavenged supplies inside the square…when we have scavenged supplies to haul in that is,” he added.
“Good thinking,” Lance said. “How many of there are you here?”
“About fifty,” Eric said.
“Mostly men?” Lance
pressed.
“A good mix…but yeah, more men than women,” Eric explained. “What about you two? How long you been together?”
“A little over six months. We met just a couple months before things really started falling apart. Kind of a whirlwind romance,” Max explained.
Eric was glad to hear that Lance and Max weren’t married and that they hadn’t been together that long. While the revelation that they had been preparing their engagement somewhat dismayed him, a preparatory engagement was far from marriage. And six months wasn’t a long time to have been together. That meant there might still be a little wiggle room for him with Max if he played his cards right.
The biters had drained a lot of the pool of young women in their little burg, not that there were many to go around to begin with. In fact, other than Marta, current pickings for attractive and eligible young ladies were almost non-existent. And Max was a looker. She had a pretty face, and while she was wearing bulky winter clothing, it appeared to Eric that the possibilities of a rockin’ bod’ were high.
The sound of gunfire from around the town had intensified. No biters had yet made their presence known at the alley gate, which was secured by a block lock, the bolt of which slid into a notch in the concrete. A padlock had been added to ensure the bolt lock remained in place.
Max took a deep breath in the darkness and exhaled heavily. “I’m really worried about this place being able to hold off all those biters.”
“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Lance said.
“But there were so many. That herd was huge!” Max protested.
Hearing the concern in Max’s voice, and sensing an opportunity to reassure her, Eric stepped in.
“I think we have this covered,” he said, trying to sound confident and manly in his reassurance.
“But you didn’t see how many of them there were,” Max argued. “It had to have been at least two hundred…maybe more!” she exclaimed.
“Ah,” Eric dismissed her concern, moving over to lean nonchalantly against the ornamental iron-rail gate they were guarding. “We’ve been tested in the past. We’ve had similar herds come along and we’ve never had a problem with them, minus the little mishap we had here with the alley a while back. What got most of our townspeople killed or infected was not being organized at the beginning of the outbreak. A lot of biters got into peoples’ homes or caught them when they were outside. More people got bit when we were first sending groups out scavenging, before we’d learned just how dangerous the biters could be in large herds when you’re out in the open and unprotected.”
“Lost some good people, huh?” Lance sympathized.
“Yeah,” Eric nodded. “But we have this place pretty damn well buttoned up now. Like I said, this alley is the only easy way in or out, and as long as we keep a low profile, not many biters usually find it. That’s why I keep the flashlight off. Don’t need anything to attract them over here. Only bad thing about herds this size is that you use up a lot of ammo on them…that, and removing all the dead bodies afterward.”
“Not enough ammo around?” Max asked.
Eric nodded in the blackness. “Ammo is the one thing we’re starting to run really low on. And after killing all these biters tonight, we’ll probably almost be out. We’ll have to work to scavenge up some more starting tomorrow. It’s removing the dead biter bodies that I hate most, though. That’s the worst of it. They stink so bad. Otherwise, I have to give Richard credit. He has done a pretty damn good job of keeping this place safe…at least over the past month, once we finally got organized.”
“Richard seems like a decent guy,” Lance said.
Eric shrugged. “He’s okay. I wouldn’t say he’s the best leader in the world, but there aren’t many options these days. He’s willing to step up where no one else really has been, accept maybe for Dan.”
“What did Richard do before the outbreak?” Max asked.
He was a big-city guy. Something in finance I think. I don’t really know. Then he came back home here to Riverport and opened his own real estate agency. About a year after that, he ran for mayor. Some people liked that he was from the big city. Thought it added to his credibility, made him smarter, a better leader, more experienced. I just thought it kind of made him seem like more of a douche.”
Lance and Max both laughed.
“But he’s all right,” Eric shrugged. “Just took him a while to lose that holier-than-thou attitude that can come with living and working in the big city.”
“You have family here?” Lance asked Eric.
“Not any more,” Eric said shortly.
Lance decided to leave it at that. Just about everyone they had encountered since the Carchar Syndrome began had lost someone. Some had lost everyone.
“I had one…” Eric began, but his sentence was cut short in a gasping gurgle as a hand reached between the bars of the gate and grasped his throat. Another hand reached around over his mouth.
Eric immediately began to struggle against the hands. But more arms reached through the gate, gripping his body, his clothing, and pulling him hard up against the gate’s iron framework. Eric dropped the flashlight he held, which tumbled to the pavement. He tried to free a hand to go for his weapon, but several hands held his arms in place.
Lance and Max immediately sprung into action. Max grabbed the flashlight, picked it up, and clicked it on, illuminating at least six biters clustered tightly together on the other side of the gate.
“Keep the light trained on them!” Lance instructed Max. “Hold on, buddy,” he said to Eric. “We’ll get ‘em.”
Lance aimed his weapon toward Eric. At first, Eric thought Lance was going to shoot him. But as Lance fired, the bullet hit the biter whose teeth gnashed at the gate grating, snapping away just inches from Eric’s ear.
“Don’t move!” Lance yelled at Eric. “Just stay steady.”
Eric did his best to stay motionless, but it was hard with the biters just inches from him. He could feel the heat of their breath, smell their stink, and hear the click-clack-chattering of their teeth.
Lance fired again, then again, and then Max joined in, and a few seconds later, it was all over. A total of five biters lay dead on the ground just outside the gate.
“Oh…shit,” Eric gasped as he was finally released from the biters’ grasps. “Thanks,” he breathed heavily to Lance and Max. “Guess you do know how to use those things,” he nodded at their still smoking weapons.
“Better get that light off before it draws any more of those things,” Lance told Max.
Max clicked the flashlight off again.
“Wow…thanks,” Eric breathed again. “Holy shit. Those things came out of nowhere. Usually you can hear them coming, but I guess us talking had me distracted,” he shook his head.
“No problem,” Lance said in the darkness. “Glad to do it. You would have done the same for us.”
“Yeah,” Eric nodded. “Yeah, I would have.”
“Must have broken from the main herd,” Max said. “Good thing there weren’t more of them.”
Eric was embarrassed. Here he was, trying to play the big shot in front of Max, and she was the one who ended up having to come to his aid. It wasn’t the best first impression, and certainly not the kind he wanted to make on one of the few remaining eligible bachelorettes in town.
* * *
While the cache of arms and ammunition on the tower’s fourth floor assisted the Blenders in holding out a little bit longer than on previous levels, they still soon found themselves in the same predicament. With the number and ferocity of the biters streaming up both stairwells, the tower defenders were achieving a much higher burn rate of ammunition than expected.
After just a few minutes, Michael told Charla, Wendell, and Caroline to take any spare arms and ammunition up to the fifth floor. Two minutes later, he was ordering the defenders at the office stairwell to fall back. He had a dual hope in doing this. First, he wanted them close in case they had to all retreat up another l
evel. Second, he was hoping that in the process of falling back toward the main stairwell, it would draw the biters along with them into the open fourth floor where it would give the Blenders a broader range of fire and easier target selection. If they could kill a whole slew of biters in the process, they might be able to turn the tides on the onslaught of biters that just seemed to keep coming. That was Michael’s reasoning at least.
And Michael’s reasoning was correct. Everything happened just as he’d hoped. The problem, however, continued to be that they were burning through too much ammo, too quickly. And as the tower defenders began to run through the last of their pre-loaded magazines, and the biters continued to pour up the now undefended office stairwell, Michael ordered a general retreat up another level.
Michael split the Blender adults when they reached the fifth floor that was divided into office-style cubicles. Ms. Mary, his wife Caroline, and Christine Franko headed to a cubical in the center of the floor to start reloading empty magazines. Meanwhile, Michael, Josh, Patrick, and Chris held the firing blind they’d created at the top of the stairs since there wasn’t room to comfortably fit more than four people firing weapons.
Charla and Wendell acted as runners, bringing the stairwell defenders fresh magazines for their weapons and taking empty ones back to be reloaded.
At this point, everyone in the group was suffering the effects of the massive amounts of gunfire taking place. Even with the earplugs that Michael had handed out to the group after the last tower infiltration, ears were ringing. Eyes watered and noses ran from the smoke billowing from weapons. Hands were burned from gunpowder and flying shell casings. And even in the cold temperatures, people were sweating profusely from a combination of the fear and adrenaline coursing through them.
The Last Bastion [Book 3] Page 15