Blue Plague The Fall

by Watson, Thomas A.

  Hope started to build in his chest as the infected moved. Then the smell hit him like a wall. From fifty yards away, he could smell them. Then all twenty of the infected roared in front of them. It actually hurt his ears it was so loud. From behind him, Bruce heard a baby cry, and the infected stopped, looking toward the group.

  “Well, just fuck me sideways,” Bruce yelled out loud as Joshua continued to cry.

  The group of infected let out another roar as Bruce rose up, taking aim and dropping two in quick succession. Out of the corner of the NVG, he saw movement. Turning his head to his left, he saw a very large group moving at a slow jog toward the group.

  “Fuck me sideways with a midget,” Bruce yelled, taking aim at the runners as they broke into a run toward the group.

  Bruce and Mike, with the NVG and thermal scopes, opened up first because they had range, dropping five. The infected could not run full speed because of the small trees. Bruce watched one that had taken off in a dead run hit a small tree headfirst and fall back on its ass. Bruce aimed at the closest and started squeezing the trigger. When it went down, he moved to the next dark shape in his thermal and started squeezing the trigger until it went down.

  Bruce heard Buffy, Alex, and Angela open up. There were only eleven left, but they were less than forty yards away. Taking aim, he pulled the trigger twice, hitting one in the neck and dropping it as he felt his bolt lock open. He dropped it and put in another one and kept firing. Angela shot the last runner in the head less than five feet from her. It literally landed at her feet. Bruce could hear everyone breathing hard and Alex say, “Holy shit.” Turning his head to the left, Bruce could see the slow movers were less than eighty yards away. The group moving toward them numbered easily over several hundred. The front of the mob coming toward them was at least fifty yards across. He had no idea how deep it was but knew from the sound it went back a long ways.

  “It’s not over. Shift the line to me,” Bruce said out loud. Everyone started hearing the growls, grunts, and snarls coming from the woods. Then Bruce realized that they had only heard runners roar, but that made no difference now.

  Mike looked in the direction Bruce was looking. “Oh fuck,” he said very loudly.

  “How many?” Alex asked, with alarm.

  “Over a thousand easy,” Mike said with despair.

  “Yeah, fuck me sideways with a midget holding a broom,” Bruce yelled, pulling his magazine out; feeling it was almost empty, he dropped it, putting in a new one. He could feel his fear easing and being replaced by anger and hate. Everything he made the group do did not matter: long runs, going without eating, and always being quiet. It did not matter here in the middle of the nowhere in the woods they had a fucking mob of infected coming at them.

  “Maria and Lynn, be ready to give me and Mike your magazines,” Bruce yelled to them as he raised his rifle; being quiet did not matter now. “I’m working from the left with Buffy; Alex and Angela, take the center, Mike, right. Buffy, stay on my right side. I want you to have someone on each side of you.”

  Oh well, it has been a good life, Bruce thought. Looking at Buffy, he could see her shaking with fear, but she was kneeling down and holding up her weapon, aiming where she heard the noise coming from. Looking at Alex and Angela, he saw they had just released from a hug and stepped back to kiss Cade. Alex pulled out his Beretta, holding it in his hand, and looked at Cade then back to Angela. She looked at Alex and nodded her head, wiping tears off her face as Alex put the pistol back in his holster. They kneeled down together and aimed toward the noise, which was getting very loud. The hate and anger in Bruce unleashed in the wave of rage he had once loved. The wave crashed over him bringing him peace, for the coming battle.

  “Come on, you cocksuckers. Come and get you some so I can fuck your mama!” Bruce yelled at the top of his lungs, scaring the shit out of the group. Raising his rifle, yelling, Bruce started firing. In less than twenty seconds, his magazine was empty, and twenty infected were down. When he dropped the empty and rammed in a new magazine, he yelled, “Suck my ass, motherfuckers.” As he aimed down his rifle, he just released a rebel yell. No words, just a yell filled with hate and rage.

  Everyone was watching Bruce in disbelief; even Mike thought he had gone mad. Then they heard a small yell join Bruce’s voice. As Buffy drew her next breath, they heard her small voice scream, “Come on, motherfuckers.” Mike let out a yell, raising his rifle and opening up. Alex and Angela joined in yelling then everyone behind the shooters started yelling any cuss word they could think of. The five kids stood up, holding their staffs in the air, as Maria went to stand by Bruce and Lynn beside Mike, both yelling. Bruce’s rage had spread; they were not scared anymore. If they were going to die, they were going down fighting.

  As before, Mike and Bruce opened up first. Unlike the runners, the single shots they fired were taking down the joggers and walkers. With almost each pull of the trigger, they dropped one. The only problem was there were another two to take its place. As Bruce and Mike’s rifles ran dry, Maria and Lynn started passing their magazines to them. In less than seven minutes, Bruce and Mike had each used the ten magazines they had been given. With everyone in the group yelling, the infected could not even be heard. Maria and Lynn moved to Angela’s and Alex’s packs to get their magazines for Bruce and Mike.

  As Bruce’s bolt locked open, he dropped the magazine and slammed in a new one. He pulled his rifle back to his shoulder and started firing again. Aim fire, aim fire. With each squeeze, one dropped as the mob got closer, as he continued screaming at the infected. As his bolt opened, Bruce replaced the magazine. Then the other three opened up as the infected mob was now forty yards away.

  With all five now shooting, the infected were dropping fast, but they were also spreading out as those in the back were moving around the ones that had fallen. Bruce dropped another magazine and replaced it. That magazine was the last from his vest; Bruce only had the six on his left leg. Bruce started turning further to his left. The infected mob was starting to surround them. Dropping and replacing magazines, he was attempting to stop the left side from closing on them. Out of the corner of his right eye, he had seen movement. Turning to look, he saw an infected woman jogging toward Buffy, and she did not see her coming. Bruce swung his rifle over, shooting the woman in the head. The woman landed ten feet from Buffy, Bruce yelled out “Bitch” as she hit the ground. He aimed in front of Buffy, taking down nine joggers that were threatening to overrun her. Feeling his bolt slam open again, he dropped and replaced from his thigh.

  He turned back to his left side and dropped thirty in less than forty seconds. He changed magazines and repeated, dropping thirty in quick succession, then did it one more time. In less than two minutes, Bruce had dropped ninety. Slamming in a new magazine, he turned toward Buffy. He saw her changing magazines, and at least two dozen were within ten yards of her. Bruce swung his rifle and dropped fifteen before Buffy had a new magazine in. As she raised and shot four, Bruce dropped fifteen more. Dropping and replacing, he only had one magazine left. Turning back to the left, he saw a young man was reaching for him. Bruce kicked the man in the chest, and he fell down. Bruce shot him before he got up. He looked up and started snapping off his shots.

  He yelled out, “One magazine left.”

  Mike yelled, “Last magazine.”

  Angela yelled three, Alex yelled two, and Buffy yelled one.

  Bruce dropped and reloaded with his last magazine. He raised his rifle up and dropped thirty more in rapid succession. He was fixing drop his rifle when he felt something hit his arm. It was Maria handing him the magazine from her rifle. He dropped and changed and started again, swinging back to Buffy’s side. Once again, they were pressing her, and several were close. He dropped thirty then put another magazine Maria had pulled off of Alex’s pack and started shooting anything close.

  Bruce heard a roar to his left past Mike. Then he heard Mike yell, “Runners.” Bruce could not help Mike as he heard several of the kids
scream then yell. As his bolt locked back, he dropped the SCAR, pulling out his XDM with the suppressor on. Bruce dropped thirteen as fast as he could pull the trigger. As he dropped the empty magazine, slamming in a new one, he heard Mike yell then heard something hit the ground behind him. Bruce turned, looking at Mike to find a runner had tackled him. It looked like a large man, and he was on top of Mike. Mike had grabbed both of the infected man’s wrists and was forcing its arms across its chest so it could not bite him. As he started to move to Mike, something grabbed his right arm. Turning, he saw an old lady had grabbed his arm and was coming at his forearm with her mouth open. Bruce punched her in the face before she could bite his arm. The old lady stumbled back from the hit into another infected. “Bitch, don’t try to bite me,” Bruce told her.

  Bruce shot both of them then he took out eleven more of their friends. Dropping and changing, he pulled the trigger as fast as he could, dropping thirteen more. Dropping and changing for the last time as he put his last magazine in, he looked to his right for Buffy. He did not see her, and panic gripped him. Bruce turned around looking for her then he saw her jump over Susan, who was holding Joshua, Cassandra, and Cade. Buffy ran up to the infected Mike was fighting with, putting the barrel of her gun to the side of its head and pulling the trigger. Before the infected had fallen off of Mike, she moved past them. Then Buffy kneeled down, aiming at a runner coming right at her. When it was twenty yards from her, she let off a three-round burst that hit it in the face.

  Bruce turned back around and shot an infected little boy who could not have been much older than Buffy. Another infected grabbed him from behind; he elbowed it off of him, spun around, and leg swept it, knocking it down. He stepped to its head, raised his leg, and drove the heel of his boot through its skull. Turning around, he shot twelve more, dropping his pistol. Reaching down, Bruce pulled out his predator machete and tomahawk. He was a big fan of Arnold and had a blacksmith make him one like the one in the movie. Looking back to his right, he saw no movement, but bodies were stacked five high in places. Turning back to his front, he saw several dozen walking toward him. They were fifteen yards away, and he did not think he had time to put the suppressor on his 1911. For him to try would mean putting down the machete, and that was not an option.

  He glanced to his right and saw Ben and John beating the shit out of an infected that they had on the ground. Beside the blankets that were spread out, Christina, Julie, and Marty were waling away on an infected woman who was trying to grab them. Christina kept calling the woman a whore in between blows as Julie moved to the side of the woman then hit her on the knee, knocking the woman down. Marty then raised his staff up, driving it into her skull. The three looked up and saw two more approach as they attacked the closest one. After Ben and Marty crushed the skull of the one they had down, they saw the second one closing on their friends and charged, yelling at it.

  Turning back to the infected advancing on him, Bruce let out another rebel yell and waded into combat. The two closest were both women; he kicked the first one, knocking her down then rearing his right arm back, he swung the machete around, chopping the woman’s head off. Then he walked over to the other one as she was getting up; he drove the point of the blade into her head. He dealt with the next four the same way. Seeing eighteen more left, he watched as they stumbled over bodies toward the group. Bruce charged the infected, yelling, “It is a good day to die, but I’m going to shank some fuckers first.” Stabbing, chopping, and hacking with the machete and tomahawk, Bruce saw one lunging at him. He tackled it, and as they landed, he drove the blade into the skull then he rolled off, standing up. Turning to his right, he saw one more left as he rolled off the infected. As he stood up to face the last one, he heard a suppressed shot from behind him and saw a bullet hit the infected in the forehead, dropping it. Bruce turned around and saw Angela lowering her P90.

  They had all watched in fascination as Bruce charged into the last group of blues with his machete swinging and tomahawk chopping. He dropkicked an infected, and as it attempted to get up, he grabbed a handful of hair with his left and brought the machete down, chopping its head off and throwing it at another one coming at him. Bruce advanced toward the rest, chopping off arms and heads, yelling the entire time, and throwing his tomahawk at one, hitting it in the forehead. They just stared at him standing over the bodies breathing hard.

  Ben broke the silence first. “That was fucking awesome,” he declared.

  Bruce looked around but could not see anything moving. Bending over and wiping his blade off on a blue’s shirt, Bruce put his machete back in its sheath. Collecting his tomahawk, he wiped it off. Then Bruce walked over, picked up his rifle and pistol then all of his magazines, and calmly walked to his pack. He dropped everything, pulled ammo out of his pack, and started reloading magazines.

  In a calm voice that trembled in rage, he said, “Gather all your stuff and move over here. Make sure to get your magazines and start reloading in case this mob called their friends to come to this party.”

  Everyone ran to gather their stuff and brought it over beside Bruce. Those who did not have weapons helped load magazines, except Jim, who was sitting with his knees pulled to his chest, crying. It took them twenty minutes to load the magazines then they sat in a circle. Taking out the bleach water, they all sprayed down until they smelled like bleach. Those with guns were facing out protecting those in the middle.

  Bruce looked at his watch; it said 3:08. The battle had only lasted forty minutes, but it felt like years. Everyone was still breathing hard, pumped from the adrenaline rage that Bruce had filled them with. They all sat in the circle waiting on the sun, which hopefully would bring a better day. If it didn’t, then oh well, they would fight again until they died or made it to the farm.

  Chapter 35

  At 5 a.m., Bruce stood up and motioned for everyone to get ready. Everyone gave a sigh of relief, wanting to leave. The smell was overpowering; everyone had vomited at least once, including Mike and Bruce. Their throats and noses burned from the smell, and everyone was ready to leave. Mike had already walked the area making sure they had not missed anything of value. He found some water bottles and MREs, but they were covered in infected blood, as were the blankets. They left them where they were. It was still dark, but they had fought a battle in this light, and the light was increasing, so they could move in it.

  Bruce looked around with a stone face. The bodies of infected spread out like a sea. In places, there were bodies piled five high. He looked at where he and Buffy had been. He could take one step and walk for over fifty yards never touching the ground and in places be several feet off of it. He had asked Mike what he thought the numbers were. Mike guessed about fifteen hundred to two thousand, and Bruce agreed with him. Bruce was ready to move; hearing the toddlers both throw up again had made his mind up. Bruce turned and made sure everyone was ready and moved out.

  Avoiding the worst areas, he led them around the sea of bodies. His blood was still boiling, feeling the rage course through his body as he rode the wave. He could see on everyone’s faces that they were letting the rage go. They were letting it go as their adrenaline left their system. Bruce was filled with pride when he looked at Buffy. She had run over and shot the runner off of Mike from the small pack that had turned back to them then stood her ground as the rest advanced, taking them out when they got close. She might be a little girl, but she was also a kick-ass warrior.

  As he led the group through the woods, he saw the path that the infected had made to them. He steered the group to the beaten-down path. It was coming from the direction they were heading. They came up on a dirt road that led to the field they were going to. Bruce looked down the road then into the woods. He motioned for everyone to follow him down the road. Mike called him over the radio.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Going home,” Bruce replied.

  “No shit, smartass. I’m talking about following the road. I thought we agreed no roads,” Mik
e shot back.

  “It’s not a road; it’s a large fucking dirt path. If you want to go through the woods then go. This is the way I’m going,” Bruce said in a sharp tone.

  Mike did not answer back. He had known Bruce for years and had never seen him like this. After a fight or an argument, he always calmed down and relaxed. Granted, it took a few hours, but this time he was different. Mike could see it in his eyes after the battle when he walked back to his pack. As he watched Bruce run at the last group of infected with his big knife and tomahawk, Mike would swear Bruce was enjoying it. Feeding off his rage like a drug. Watching Bruce as they sat in a circle, Mike could see it on his face: Bruce wanted more to come. Mike could tell by watching him that Bruce wanted to feed his rage.

  Mike admitted to himself that in a battle that was the kind of person who you want at your side. That was not the kind of person you wanted leading a group of women and kids because they would look for a fight. This was not the time to feed the thousand-yard stare. Angela dropped back to Mike and fell in step with him.

  “Something is wrong with Bruce,” she said in a low tone.

  “He is still on his adrenaline high,” Mike tried lying to her and himself.

  “Mike, I know adrenaline junkies, and this is way different,” she said as Alex fell back to them, holding Cade. “He was like a berserker.”

  “If Bruce had not started screaming, yelling, and getting everyone stirred up, we would have died, baby. I was ready to shoot you, Cade, and myself, for Christ sakes,” Alex said to her.