We Are The Hunted (Book 1): We Are The Hunted

by Matlin, Perry T.

  I turn around and find him crumpled there like a piece of paper. My vision goes red, as I take in his prone figure. He cannot be dead, not after everything we’ve been through. Not after all the shit I’ve endured to get him back. He cannot be gone. I refuse to accept it. I leave the door forgotten and kneel down beside him.

  “Ben, Benjamin wake up. Wake up. Please open your eyes” I say, my voice like gravel. This reminds me of memories that I’d like to forget. Finding my grandmother on the floor of our kitchen, finding her dead. I cannot bear this. I need him.

  I think back to my training; I know how to do this. I reach up, feeling at his wrist. I move my fingers around, searching for the pulse that has to be there, it just has to be. I feel absolutely nothing. No pulsing of blood, no sign of life.

  “Ben, no. No, not now. Oh my God. Ben, I love you so much, please don’t leave me” I cry, my hands gripping his shirt, my tears raining on his lifeless body. That’s when the first infected fall upon us. I jump to my feet, standing between Ben and the monsters before me.

  I look between the onslaught of zombies. I can’t let them near him. I have to protect him. I lift the two small decorative daggers given to me. The ones I keep holstered to my waist now. I brandish them angrily at the beasts before me. Using all the skills I learned in gymnastics, in martial arts. I jump to the right, as I pierce the first beast through the eye.

  Kicking with all my might, the things fall. They lose. They’re weak frail bodies are no match for mine. I am athletic, I am sure. I am too much for them. If it were me against six or even eight, then I’d win easily. There are closer to thirty. I begin to look around for any other way out of this.

  A sky light is two feet to the left of Ben’s body. I begin to back away to it. If I can break it, then maybe we can drop through. They’d only be able to come through one or two at a time. I make my way over to it, keeping my body as a shield between them and him. I finally find the glass. It looks weathered, hopefully it’ll be easy to break.

  Brandishing my knives, I take them on, as my foot repeatedly kicks the glass. It glances off, the glass unperturbed. I try to kick harder, with all the might of a football player. Again, it has no effect. The damn zombies are closing in. I try to picture them as an opposing team, what would I do? How would I defeat them?

  I use my knives to kill the two zombies closest to me, but where one falls, two more show up. I manage a quick glance at Ben and see with worry that he looks even more pale now. I realize in that moment that he’s probably turning. My heart begins to race. I kick a zombie in the chest, stabbing two more in the head, before jumping as high as I can, and landing on the glass with full force.

  A loud crack echoes in the air. I look down, and I see the spiderweb crack spread, and for the first time, I’m happy to see that crack pattern. Usually, it just pisses me off to have to buy a new phone, but now it could save my life. I turn back to the approaching blood-thirsty beasts and hold the knives up again.

  I kick again, the glass still not moving, but the crack spreads a little further across the clear surface. I sneak another look at Ben. Then I turn back to the zombies. There are probably fifteen left, but now they’re all clustered before me and sure as hell not spread out. I’m out of time. I try something, that may help, but it’s equally stupid. I jump into the air, and kick as many legs as I can. Four of them fall to the ground. I kick the glass again; a free moment presents itself. I bang on the glass with my fists.

  “Come on. Dammit. Come on you dumbass glass” I scream, my voice raw with emotion, as I abuse the glass. Another loud crack rings through the air, and out of the corner of my eye; Ben twitches. I punch the glass again, my hand punching an infuriatingly small hole in the glass.

  I pull my bleeding mess of a hand out of the broken sky light and kick it. The glass shifts, but still doesn’t break. I’m forced back on my feet then. Ben twitches again, as I stand above him. A part of me realizes he’s probably turning right now, but I can’t think about that. I take down the four infected still on the ground and turn to the other twelve that are left.

  One dead, another kick. My foot goes through the glass now. I feel with pain that the glass is tearing my ankle to shreds. I’m almost there. Only a little more. I kill two more of them, before kicking again. The bodies are piling around me, my thrusts are slower, weaker. I’m peaking. I remember all the training in the gym, on the field.

  As, I go to kill another one, I lose one of my knives. It doesn’t come back out of the head I stab. I’m not strong enough to pull it out. I’m reaching a burnout. I’ve surpassed my physical peak. I stab another one of the monsters, the blade sticking into the eye socket. I force it out with all my might, the squelching sound turning my stomach. I notice then that I’ve been herded away from Ben and the sky light.

  I turn around last minute, almost toppling over the waist high wall around the building. I have a spur of inspiration then, kicking with all my might, two of the dead topple over the wall, and fall forty feet to the pavement below. I turn to the last five zombies.

  Making my way back to the sky light, my only way out, I kill two more. There are only three of them left. I go to kill another, but again the blade gets stuck, and I’m too weak once again. I watch as it topples backward, leaving me unarmed against the last two of them. What do I do now? I look around, finding one of my knives sticking out of a head. I try again, attempting to pull it out.

  I pull with every bit of strength I have, and the knife comes loose, pulling a skewered piece of rotting brain with it, I fling the knife, and kill another of them. There is only one left. I make quick work of it, before turning away from the carnage. I immediately throw up over the side of the roof.

  Looking down, I contemplate just risking the jump, but I’d never survive it. I hobble exhaustedly over to Ben, scooping his body into my arms. I carry him the two feet to rest beside the sky light. I begin to hit the glass with my knife, cleaning out the gaping hole. When I finally clear out the whole opening, I turn back to Ben. I take in his face one more time, in case this doesn’t go as planned.

  I jump through the hole, preparing to roll on impact to break my fall. I just hope it’s not too late. I hope that I don’t have another zombie, a zombie I love, when I open the door. I hope I don’t have to see that.

  THIRTY-TWO

  I open my eyes…

  THIRTY-THREE

  I look around, the empty rooftop, filled with corpses. I look down, trying to remember what happened. Did Paul leave me? That’s when the door flies open. He looks at me with shock on his face. I look down at my bite mark, but it looks different now.

  It looks like a regular bite, no infection. It’s a normal red. I notice, as the realization comes to me that I can see colors again. It looks like it’s been healing for a few weeks already. I look from what I thought was a death sentence, to the love of my life. What the hell is happening? I move to stand on my feet. It’s easier. I’m not weak anymore. My muscles are sore, but more like I overdid it at the gym, not like I’m dying of a zombie bite. His mouth falls open.

  I move across the distance, my legs sore with each step. I’m almost to him, when a cramp wrecks me. I fall suddenly, but his sure hands catch me. I feel his warmth immediately, and realize just how cold I am. I have goosebumps up my arms. I can see the question marks in his ocean eyes, as he surveys me, like a ghost. He has this haunted look on his sweet face.

  “What the hell? You’re okay? I thought for sure… Ben… I thought you…” he says, his voice breaking like thin ice. That’s fitting because the air around us is as cold as the water underneath the ice. I look from his tear-filled eyes, down to my waning bite. How am I sitting here? I succumbed to it; I was dead. I felt everything leaving.

  “I’m not sure. I remember falling, it felt like I fell forever, but then I just felt pain, like cramping muscles. Look…” I say, thrusting my arm into his face, he peers at the fading crescent bite, his eyes curious.

  “… it looks like it’s healin
g. What do you think this could mean?” I ask him, as I try to stand on my own again. I look around at the dead.

  “I’m not sure” he says, his voice far away, quiet to my ears. He’s looking in the distance.

  “Do you think you could be… you know… immune?” he asks suddenly. I stop, freezing mid pace. The more I walk, the better my muscles feel. Could that be a possibility? What would the numbers for that be?

  The idea of me being some anomaly is intriguing. I guess being immune would explain it, but what kind of virus could this be, and why do I have an immunity? It also raises another question. I’ve been hovering on the edge of madness about killing Drew, but my one logic that’s held me somewhat together was that he was beyond saving. If I’m immune, what if he was too? Did I kill him, when there was another option? What does that make me?

  “I don’t know. I guess there could be reason to assume with proper testing, the theory could be…” I begin, but something interrupts my thoughts. I turn my head slowly, as four cars race toward us down the dirt road.

  “They’re here. Crap” I say, dropping the subject of my seemingly miraculous recovery. I grab his hand, much more steadily on my feet now. We race back through the door, and down the stairs. I notice, as we run that Paul’s hands are a mangled mess of blood and broken glass. His face, his clothes caked with blood, and gore. Blood running down his eviscerated ankle. We run down the hall, trying to make it to the stairwell in time to warn the others.

  We’re out of time. It is the moment we’ve been dreading. The gang that is after us, has found us. By the looks of it, they brought lots of friends. I shiver slightly, as we hurtle through the door and race down the stairs into the second floor. I exhale in relief.

  Ryan and Riley are ten feet in front of us, their eyes on the windows. They must’ve seen the arrival of the gang. I flash them a worried look, as we pelt past them. Paul is right on my heels, now that I’m back to my full capacity, my running legs are kicking in. I can hear my siblings following right behind us, as we make our way through the building.

  I almost run right into Chase, as we come around the corner. He is standing there in front of the stairwell, Lily and Peyton beside him. I look around immediately. We have to find somewhere for them to hide. I search the floor, until the commercial air duct cover meets my eye. I turn back to Chase, just as his eyes follow mine to the same thing.

  “Peyton, you need to hide in there, until we come find you” Chase commands, but she shakes her head, tears filling her eyes… I look toward the window, as the motor of the cars comes into earshot. We don’t have time for this. We need to move now. Just when I’m about to lose my temper, Lily steps forward and saves the day.

  “Peyton, we can both hide inside. There is room enough for me. I am too old to fight, but I am scared of the dark. Will you stay with me, so I don’t get scared?” she asks. Peyton monitors her briefly, searching for any sign of the trap. Peyton falls for it, missing the mark on the manipulation Lily threw at her.

  “Peyton, please stay here. I will come for you, when it is safe” Chase says, his voice firm, his eyes blazing with authority.

  “I’ll see you soon daddy” she says, her eyes filling with tears. She reaches out her hand, grasping his tightly.

  “Don’t be afraid baby girl, I will come back for you” he promises, but she just nods. That’s when she shifts her gaze to Paul.

  “Paul, do you promise to keep my daddy safe?” she asks, her bottom lip trembling. Paul crosses in front of me, kneeling before Peyton to hold his pinky out for her.

  “I promise” he says simply, completing the pinky swear with her. She leans out of the open vent and kisses Paul on the cheek.

  “Okay, we have to go. Peyton be brave and stay as quiet as you can” Chase reminds her, before replacing the cover.

  Once they are safely hidden, we take off running again. We make it to the first floor, just as Thomas, and Lana join the rest of us in the stairwell. I look my brother up and down, the dried blood on his shirt, in his arm hair. I look around, Emily and Dan the only ones missing now. I open the door, taking the lead into the main garage of the building.

  Dan is standing in the middle of the room, staring right at the garage door. Briefly, I wonder if he can somehow see through it, if he can see the forces on the other side. I push the childish thought aside, and stride confidently over to him. He looks me up and down, before turning back to the door.

  “They’re outside” I say simply, my voice coming out colder, stiffer than I meant it to. He nods in acknowledgement. We stand there together, standing in a straight line. We have to face this now. I can hear the voices of the men now. They are standing just feet from us, the garage door the only barrier between us and them. The only protection left.

  I look around, taking in each member of our group, memorizing each face because something tells me that I will never see some of them alive again after this. Some instinct tells me this is it. This is where the second shoe falls. Some, or even all of us will be dead in a few minutes. I know it in my bones.

  Chase is standing to my right. He has his gun in one hand, and a long axe in the other. His chin is raised, looking at the door with the determination I’ve grown to know and respect. Ryan is standing beside Chase, his eyes, so much like mine are trained on me. He is holding a crowbar, blood already dried upon its surface. Beside him is Thomas. He is holding two hammers, both covered in gore as well. To my left, Lana is holding what looks like a makeshift slingshot, with some balloons filled with mysterious liquid. Her long hair is tied into a messy bun. Riley and Emily are beside her. They have an axe each, and their hair is similarly pulled out of their faces. Red and blonde in contrast, partners in crime.

  I look at Paul last. His eyes are on mine, his lips pulled into a grim smile. I memorize the expression on his face, the love in his eyes. I remember the exact color of his skin, the perfect shade of ocean in his beautiful eyes. I reach over, taking his hand. He grips mine back, holding me together as we stand with our friends, waiting for war to erupt around us. Paul brandishes one of the swords that Cindy gave him, the second is strapped across his back. His two daggers in their place at his waist. he is ready. I feel the gun in my own pocket.

  I catch his eye again, making sure he sees me when I mouth for him to see, a private message between the two of us. Three words. Three words that I’ve wanted to exchange with him again and again ever since October. The only three words that matter right here and now. They are everything in this moment.

  I grip his hand again, sending all my love through the contact. I let my mind wander back to the strange occurrence, the miracle that is my life, the healed bite. The death sentence that was overturned somehow. I wonder if I’m still dying, but have experienced some last minute, end of life surge. I’ve read about it before. I wonder if I’ll die still. That would suck.

  I’m forced to push the thoughts from my mind, when the first move is made. This is just a large dangerous chess game, and the other side just made their move. The lights go off. I jump slightly, never letting go of his hand, as we wait for something else to happen. I’m not sure what to expect. What is their game?

  That’s when the shots ring out. It’s dark, it’s cold, and it’s deafening. I jump down, diving to the floor to avoid being shot. Paul’s hand releases me, and suddenly everything is colder, darker. Fear grips me, as the gunshots continue their endless assault. I instinctively count the odds. It’s very unlikely that we will all come out of this unscathed.

  I crawl, trying to get to the window. I need to try to knock them down or help to thin their numbers. They had four vehicles, so at the very least there are four of them. I make my way around Dan’s truck, trying to crawl. The gunshots are constant, round after round. I make my way further away from Paul, and closer to the bullets.

  When I find myself pressed against the brick wall beside the garage door, I sit up. The window is just above me. Surprisingly, the glass is still intact. They aren’t shooting in this direc
tion, which makes me feel like they won’t be looking either. I rise to my knees, knowing this could be the end of my life, but something has to be done. I rise up and look.

  There are eleven of them. I see them huddled in front of their cars. They have long rifles, each of them aiming right at the garage door, as they fire round after round of lethal gunfire at me and my friends. I move to unlatch the window, so I can shoot back, when one of them sees me. I duck.

  I barely make it in time, before the glass rains down around me. The window has been shot out, and the gunfire has moved to this side of the building. I dive behind the nearest car, as the bullets demolish the brick I was hiding behind. I look around, trying to see anything, anyone. The smell of gunpowder is thick in the air, smoke billowing around us.

  That’s when the shots end. I lift my head, unwilling to believe that the onslaught is over. They gave up way too easily. I sit up, when the shots don’t continue. Looking around, I try to see through the darkness. I don’t want to make a sound because I’m still not convinced it’s over. It just doesn’t make sense.

  “Ben?” I hear his raised whisper from a few feet away. I crawl toward it, as the dust settles. The gunshots still haven’t continued, so I assume either they ran out of ammo, or they’re waiting for something. I make it to Paul then. His arm is trembling slightly, as I lean into him. Through the darkness, I find his lips. I press mine to them. He kisses me back shakily.

  “What are they doing?” he asks me, looking around. I shrug, not realizing he can’t see it. The dark is starting to really settle outside. I move to kneel on the ground, so I can lift myself and look over the hood of the car. Paul moves with me, as we peer over our hiding place. The silence is ominous.