by Crae, Edward
Vincent grunted. “They may be hiding or some shit,” he said. “Just waiting for backup.”
Dan looked behind them, noting the position of the sun. It would be dark in a few hours, and they would have to make a choice as to whether they would get the ball rolling, or just wait until they saw some sign of activity from the military.
“Look,” Vincent said. “The choppers are starting to take off.”
A few buildings away from the campus, black choppers—three of them in all—were rising from among the ruins. The veered to the north, traveling in a group as they flew low—likely in search of more potential prisoners.
“They’ll be sending out vehicles, too,” Vincent said. “Hummers, troop transports, all dat.”
“What is it about this city?” Dan wondered. “I thought they were going to bomb it. There must be something here that changed their minds.”
“Maybe there’s some big technical bullshit somewhere there on campus,” Vincent offered.
Dan grunted. “Maybe. But I imagine there would have been something in Indy, too. They blew the shit out of it, though.”
“Some geological shit, then?”
Dan grinned. Vincent knew some words other than fuck and nigga, after all. “Maybe,” he said. “You know the powers that be; they don’t think logically.”
“Shit,” Vincent scoffed. “They probably did this mess.”
A massive hail of gunfire erupted from the campus. Dan looked at Vincent, who turned to look at him with pursed lips.
“They killin’ more people,” Vincent said. “That’s how they do it; line ‘em up at the pits and shoot them mutha fuckas in the back. Just like the Jews at the death camps.”
Jesus Christ. Fucking Nazis.
“We gotta get the guys outta there,” Dan said. “One way or another.”
“Bet,” Vincent said. “I think I got da plan, too.”
Dan raised his binos again, looking where Vincent had pointed.
“You see the dorms over there near the intersection?” Vincent said.
“Yeah.”
“A homey of mine used to party with some kids in dat building. He sold pills and weed, and they treated him like some Electric Larry celebrity.”
“Electric Larry?”
Vincent laughed. “Yeah, like some magical Gandalf-like drug dealer or somethin’. Anyway, them kids showed him some underground maintenance tunnels that led to some of the other buildings. We could get in there and sneak in underground.”
Dan nodded. That was a reasonable plan, but surely the mercs would have those tunnels guarded. “What if the mercs know about them?”
“I don’t think they would,” Vincent said. “They ain’t from around here. Even if they did, they small and shit, and twist around like a mutha fuckin’ maze. Lots of places to hide.”
“Okay,” Dan said. “So how do we get in?”
“I guess we just walk our asses to that dorm and get down in there.”
Dan felt nervous about it, but it seemed like the only way to get close enough. Going down the street would be more dangerous, he figured. Gephardt would likely have snipers and other guards posted everywhere. That was probably why the military had not just gone in guns blazing.
“Okay,” Dan agreed. “Let’s do it.”
The two men emerged from the parking garage just as the sun was an orange sliver on the horizon behind them. They were strapped to the bone; Dan with his new silenced Sig and .45, Vincent with his own silenced rifle. Dan had no idea where he had gotten it, but it was small and light, with a suppressor that made it nearly impossible to hear.
Both of them also carried a blade.
They crept through the ruins, making their way toward the dorms. There was another parking garage ahead, half crumbled but still standing, where they could observe if they needed to. It was at a good vantage point while still being mostly obscured from Gephardt’s view.
As they navigated the maze of rubble, Dan’s nervousness multiplied. He felt the presence of things around him, and the feeling sent shivers up his spine. Something was out there, he knew; something other than wandering undead. He got the sense that the shadowy things were creeping around, and though he had seen them kill the infected, they were still likely dangerous.
He had not told Vincent about what he saw.
Vincent stopped and fished around in his pocket, producing a pill bottle. “Remember them ADHD meds?” he said, unscrewing the cap. “I think we should nut up and get hyped. We gonna need it.”
Dan nodded in agreement, holding out his hand as Vincent poured two pink pills in his hand. “They didn’t even confiscate these moutha fuckas,” Vincent said. “But I saved ‘em. I knew I would need ‘em when I got out.”
Dan swallowed the pills with a mostly dry mouth. They got stuck in his throat briefly, but went down as he sucked a little mucus through his nose. In no time at all, he would be pumped and ready to fuck shit up. They would be two warriors; high on meth like Gestapo mercenaries—minus the Jew-killing shit.
The double glass doors of the dorms came into view as they emerged from a pile of cars. The glass was shattered, and there were bodies strewn about in various stages of decay, and states of dismemberment. It was a fucking mess.
“Damn,” Dan said. “Looks like one hell of a party.”
Vincent chuckled, but pointed near one of the windows. “Look at that,” he said.
There was a Shambler sniffing around, stalking the lawn and groaning and mumbling like a madman. It had apparently sensed them—or smelled them—and was searching around. Vincent raised his rifle, aiming for the creature for a moment before changing his mind.
“This mutha fucka is for close encounters,” he said. “You shoot. Your rifle is better for long range.”
Dan nodded, raising his rifle and peering through the scope. Through the infrared, he saw that the Shambler was a male, large and muscular, with half of its left arm missing. Dan aimed for its head, waiting for the creature to stop. When the Shambler turned in their direction, sniffing, he pulled the trigger.
The Shambler staggered away, tripping over its own feet, and pitched to the ground.
“Good shot,” Vincent said. “Let’s go.”
They stood, rushing forward across the lawn to avoid being spotted. Strangely enough, Dan was in the lead, and Vincent was huffing behind him. Adrenaline, maybe. They were about twenty yards from the doors when Dan suddenly heard a wooshing sound—as if a whip had been cracked. He slowed and turned, seeing Vincent’s head roll right past him.
“Shit!” Dan whispered loudly.
Vincent’s body flopped to the ground, and his rifle clanked as it bounced away. Dan’s heart pounded as he crouched, scanning the shadows for Vincent’s killer.
Vincent.
“Damn it,” Dan said. “What the fuck?”
Vincent was dead, and now he was alone. Alone with something… or someone.
Something huge and white landed behind Vincent’s body, slowly rising to its full height; four tentacles swirling around its body as its eyes took on a fiery glow.
“I’m disappointed in you, Dan,” the creature said.
Robert.
Dan’s heart skipped a beat, and he turned and sprinted toward the double doors. But Robert leaped into the air, landing square on the concrete pad in front of him.
“Where are you going, Dan?” Robert asked, his voice shimmering almost magically. “I thought we were friends.”
Dan’s breath escaped him. He turned and ran toward the parking garage in full sprint. He was winded already, but the Adderall was beginning to kick in. He hoped that was the only reason his heart was pounding so painfully. His footfalls echoed in his head as his vision blurred. Behind him, he heard Robert walking—or stalking—in slow, deliberate fashion. Dan ignored him, focusing on getting to the “safety” of the parking garage.
At least he could hide there.
“Come back, friend,” Robert called to him. “We still have games to play.
”
“Fuck you!” Dan shouted.
“That’s no way to talk to your friend,” Robert shouted. “Come now! Let’s play!”
FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!
Dan leaped over the guard rail at the garage’s entrance, landing painfully on his feet and rolling forward as he fell. He rolled right back up onto his feet and headed toward the stairwell, breathing hoarsely as his lungs burned.
He pushed through the door, slamming into the stairway and tumbling to the floor. His .45 bounced away, echoing in the cinderblock well as it disappeared underneath the stairs.
“Damn it!” he cursed.
He stopped and looked back, seeing the horrid form of his stalker walking toward him from outside the garage. The creature was in no hurry; simply walking on its odd, animal-like legs in serial killer fashion. Dan could see Robert’s pale, armored skin glistening in the moonlight. It was a horrifying sight.
Desperate, he mounted the stairs and ran up them two at a time. His primitive instincts kicked in, carrying him upward almost blindly. He stumbled a few times, but made it to the third floor before collapsing onto the concrete landing.
“Get up, you fucking moron,” he cursed at himself.
He pulled himself up, turning to look down the stairwell. The door was closed. Robert probably didn’t need the door. He would just… climb up the fucking side.
“Goddamn it!” Dan cursed again.
He went back down one level, silently opening the door and closing it behind him. The garage beyond was quiet and dark; perfect for hiding. He silently shuffled across the empty floor toward a group of cars and squatted down between them, groaning in pain as his heart continued to pound like a death metal drum solo.
Jesus Christ, I’m gonna have a fucking heart attack!
Dan fumbled in his pockets for his bottle of Vicodin. There were five left. He popped two of them to try to counter the Adderall, swallowing them dry. Despite the panicky feeling, though, he did feel fucking pumped. Maybe the Vicodin would add to that and slow his heart a little bit.
Or maybe he would croak before Robert even got to him.
Robert. Oh yeah, Robert. He leaned against a car, pressing his face against the cold metal and listening to the garage around him. Everything was silent except for the wind. It was also dark as fuck, which added to his fear. But then again, maybe Robert was blind, too. That would be a good thing.
“Daaaaaaaan,” he heard a distant whisper.
Robert was calling to him. He was calling in a mocking hide-and-seek fashion.
“Daaaaaaaan,” Robert called again. “Come out, come out wherever you are.”
“Fuck,” Dan said. “Fucking psycho freak.”
Above the concrete half wall overlooking the street below, a pale white shape appeared. Dan held his breath, backing away slowly. The shape paused in the opening, shifting from side to side, and then leaped onto the asphalt floor inside. There was a loud splat as the alien feet hit the floor, and the whipping sound of tentacles followed.
“I know you’re here,” the mocking continued. “I have a game for you, if you’re interested.”
Robert’s pale form walked to the right, slowly and almost mechanically; the tentacles whipping around him and his black eyes taking on the same red glow as earlier.
“I don’t want to kill you, Dan,” Robert said, his voice softening to an almost human tone. “I just want to play. Perhaps we can play together. Kill together. How does that sound? Dan? I’ve always admired you, you know. I told you that before. We could be good friends; partners. Jack the Ripper had a partner. Did you know that? That’s right. There were two of them.”
What the fuck was he talking about?
“Aaron Kosminski and H.H. Holmes,” Robert continued. “They were both Jack the Ripper. They killed together, enjoying each other’s sick company. Holmes returned to the U.S. when they were finished, but not before killing Aaron and dumping his body in the Thames. That’s when he built his murder castle right there in Chicago. Did you know that, Dan?”
Dan was beginning to feel sick. The thought of associating with such a freak—even when he was human—made his stomach churn. He could feel the bile creep up his throat.
“I could make you like me, Dan,” Robert said, passing into a beam of moonlight.
He stopped, turning in Dan’s direction. He knew. Those black eyes stared right into Dan’s soul. He was looking right at him. Dan swallowed, a feeling of weakness falling over him as Robert turned to him fully.
“I can help you, you know,” he said, cocking his grotesque head strangely. “Those mercs, as you call them, are no match for me. I could help you get your friends out. Except for the nigger, of course. Fuck him.”
Dan raised his rifle, switching on the thermal scope and aiming right for Robert’s head. He could see the sickening smile that spread across the mutant’s face, and he felt his anger build as he pictured Vincent’s head rolling past him.
“That nigger was my friend, asshole,” he growled, pulling the trigger.
Robert disappeared in a blur, dashing to the side as the bullet sped past him. Dan immediately leaped to his feet, sprinting to another group of cars and crouching between them. He heard Robert scuffling and whipping his tentacles around as he sought him out.
“That was a good shot, Dan,” Robert cackled. “That’s another thing I like about you. You are a warrior; a true Viking, like your ancestors.”
I’m English, Dan thought. Maybe. Who knows?
“You have that killer instinct that predators have. If you weren’t immune to the virus or the spores like you are, you would have become like me. Your mind is too precious to become a Stalker. You are not an animal like they were. You are a true hunter; a killer at heart.”
Dan shook his head, creeping around the other side of the car as Robert neared it. He did his best not to make any noise on the asphalt, but his shoes wouldn’t cooperate. The rubber soles squeaked against the floor, causing Dan to stop and grit his teeth.
Fuck.
“It’s no use hiding from me,” Robert said. “I can always find you. But I’ll make you a deal. I will stand here and let you run. Then, when I think you’re a good distance away, I’ll come after you. That will be our game. If I win, you join me or die. If you win, then I suppose I will die. Isn’t that right?”
Dan considered running, but that was what Robert wanted. He was right there on the other side of the car, waiting for Dan to flee into the shadows. That was what he would do any other time, but now his mind was clear. He would not flee.
“That’s right,” he said, jumping up and firing a double-tap into Robert’s chest.
The mutant screamed in pain as the bullets ripped into his white flesh. Black and green fluid splattered as Robert staggered back, his tentacles flaring in rage.
“You fucking prick!” Robert hissed.
Dan fled, sprinting into the shadows, but cutting around a pillar and stopping right there. He would wait for Robert to pass and put a few more rounds in his ass. As he crouched, he heard Robert cursing and pounding the floor with his feet as he charged. Dan held his breath, his fists gripping the Sig as the angry mutant rushed past him.
He aimed and fired again, this time in full auto. The bullets ripped into Robert’s body, severing a tentacle and tearing his back wide open. He howled in pain and rage as Dan fled again. The sounds were sickening, almost like a monster crying.
“Why did you do that, Dan?” the sickening voice pleaded, coughing and choking.
Dan didn’t answer. He lowered himself into the open window of a car. There was a corpse in the driver’s seat, and the keys were dangling from the ignition. He reached over the corpse to open the door and push it out, and then slid over behind the wheel.
But, before he could turn the key, white tentacles shot into the window, wrapping around him and violently pulling him out of the car. He felt himself swirling through the air, then slam onto the hood of the car. His wind was knocked away, and he coughed bloo
d with the impact. Pain shot through his side as a rib was broken. He collapsed onto the hood, breathless, and stunned.
Through his swimming vision, Robert’s face appeared above him. Dan looked up, helpless and defeated as the face came closer. It was the most horrifying thing Dan had ever seen; like a glossy skull, stretched over with taut, white leather. It was translucent, and Dan could see the bones and greenish veins underneath. The eyes were lens-like and black; glassy and round with a sinister angle.
Robert’s mouth opened, revealing a long, snake-like tongue that slid out from between his long, razor-sharp fangs. It whipped around, and then slowly snaked toward him; its tip gleaming with venom.
“Fuck you,” Dan choked, his vision fading.
He knew he was done for. Robert would kill him right here and now, probably eating him afterwards. He closed his eyes. There was no use watching.
But then, the weight of Robert’s body was gone. A howling scream sounded, disappearing into the distance. Dan opened his eyes, holding up his head to look in front of him. He saw Robert’s pale body dragged away by large, shadowy figures. Robert thrashed and screamed as the shadows crowded around him and ripped off his tentacles. Dan slid off the hood, rounding the bumper to return to the driver’s seat, quickly grabbing the Sig before slamming the door.
He started the car, keeping his eyes on the scene ahead. With a growl, he put the car in gear and slammed on the gas. The car shot forward like a rocket, throwing him against the driver’s seat. The shadows disappeared, fading into the darkness and leaving Robert’s torn form staggering pale against the moonlight outside.
Dan plowed into him. He saw Robert’s eyes widen, glowing with the red, furious fire as he struck. The impact jarred the car, but Dan kept his foot on the gas, driving the mutant back toward the outer half wall. With a crash, the car slammed into the concrete, bursting through it and crushing Robert’s body along with it. The car sailed down two floors, straightening out as it fell. It was almost in slow motion. Dan watched the street grow closer and closer with every passing millisecond, and the pale form of Robert clinging to the hood.