Fatal Reaction, Battle of the Hunted

by M A Hollstein

  “Fuck,” he growled, making a mental note to put his two new girls to work in the morning. If they wanted his protection, they’d need to work for it. He had found them both scared and alone, hiding from the horrors of the virus. Sandra had been hiding out in an apartment a few miles from there, and Molly he’d found in a ransacked liquor store, scrounging for food. Little did she know that he’d taken it upon himself to acquire all of the stores, shops, and every building in San Diego. He was in charge.

  She knows it now, he thought. She’ll never take anything again without his permission.

  Scuffling his feet, he opened the fridge and grabbed a beer. Using the edge of the countertop, he pried the cap off. He heard it land somewhere on the tile floor. He didn’t give a crap. The girls would take care of it along with the rest of the womanly duties he expected them to do.

  Chugging his beer, relishing the cold, fizzy liquid as it filled his belly, he heard a noise. It was a loud clattering sound.

  “What the hell?”

  Pissed off by the disturbance, Ronnie slammed his beer down on the counter, grabbed a butcher knife from the drawer next to the sink, and followed the sound. It came from outside.

  The small house was situated directly behind a mechanic shop, where he and his men had been residing. Next door was a convenience store with another small house behind it. He had one house to himself, and the rest of the men used the other house as well as sleeping in cots set up in the mechanic shop, and convenience store. His men took turns watching over the rest of them as they slept.

  Yanking the front door open, Ronnie stepped outside, leaving the door open behind him and squinted at the back entrance of the mechanic shop where he housed the gang’s weapons. La Muerte, a rival gang, had been eyeing their stash. Recently, they’d come to an agreement, to respect one another’s boundaries, but he didn’t trust them. They claimed Oceanside as theirs, and he could care less. For now, he’d made an agreement with them just to keep the peace until he was ready to strike. His sights were much larger than Oceanside. He set out to claim all of Southern California as his and eventually the entire state.

  Standing on the asphalt, barefoot, he looked around. Then he heard it again. Another loud rattling sound.

  On high alert, he followed the sound and eyed the blue, dented dumpster behind the mechanic shop. It was overflowing with garbage. Unfortunately, the virus had hit before trash day, and crap was overflowing.

  Knife handle gripped in his hand, Ronnie walked towards the dumpster. The air was cool and humid. It felt wet on his face. The humidity made his nose want to run. He sniffled, trying to ignore it. Careful not to step on broken glass, Ronnie approached the heap of trash. When he was close enough, he banged on the side of the dumpster.

  “Yeeeeooowwwl!” A streak of black fur flew out of the trash and ran across the pavement.

  “Damn cat!” Ronnie growled, watching it scurry across the pavement and disappear around the building into the darkness. He banged again on the side of the dumpster in case there was more than one. He hated cats. Bam! Bam! Bam!

  Where the hell are my men? he wondered. With all the racket he was making, they should’ve been out there, ready to fight.

  “What the hell!” he barked. Then a new sound caught his attention, and he spun around.

  A dark figure stood near the edge of the building where the cat had disappeared. The figure was tall and big, standing in the shadows, away from the security light near the back door of the mechanic shop. Ronnie squinted. It was hard to see him. He doubted it was one of la Muerte, but wasn’t sure. Too much of a coincidence that another alien ship would appear, and then someone was snooping around his digs. He bet the la Muerte wanted his weapons. He’d heard explosions in the distance, coming from the North. La Muerte was most likely desperate, and after his arsenal for defense. The little fucking pansies needed him to protect them. Ronnie grinned at the thought. Soon they’d be begging to join the Crusaders.

  “Who are you?” Ronnie yelled. “You’re steppin’ foot on private property, you know!”

  The figure didn’t move. It just stood there, watching.

  “You know who I am?” Ronnie asked, gripping the handle of the butcher knife. He took a few threatening steps towards the figure. “I’m in charge here! Bet you’re shakin’ in your boots! Messin’ with the wrong man…”

  Just then, a deep growling noise rumbled in the cool night air. Ronnie froze. He recognized the sound. The growling was coming from the figure.

  Raising the knife, Ronnie asked, “You infected?”

  The growling became louder, more fierce.

  Staring at the figure, Ronnie tried to see its face. The infected had distorted features due to hives, and their eyes turned yellow. He took a few steps closer. The man was covered from head to toe in strange clothing. He wore a large hood and what appeared to be some sort of mask covering his face. He couldn’t see his eyes.

  “You try to attack me, I’ll kill you,” Ronnie stated, taking another step closer. “You don’t know who you’re messin’ with.”

  The growling was suddenly accompanied by a strange array of clicking sounds. The figure crouched down.

  “What the f…”

  Just then, the back door to the mechanic shop flew open and Gabe, one of Ronnie’s men, came out brandishing a shotgun.

  “Get back!” Gabe yelled. “I got ‘im!”

  The dark figure, sprung at Gabe, just as he fired. Gabe bellowed in pain as the figure landed on top of him, taking him down to the ground.

  Ronnie watched in horror as the figure savagely ravished him. Either the gunshot didn’t faze the man, or the bullet didn’t hit him. He then wondered if the figure was one of them alien bastards. Ronnie watched as Gabe struggled beneath the dark figure. The bright light of the security lamp lit up the blood pooling on the ground as the figure ripped Gabe to shreds, devouring his flesh.

  Sudden, high-pitched screams came from his house, snapping him out of his stupor.

  The girls! His girls!

  “Shit!” He raced back to the house, leaving Gabe to his fate. The front door was still open. He could hear the rest of his men, awoken by the gunfire and screaming, coming out of the mechanic shop, convenience store, and the neighboring house. Gunshots were firing behind him. It was about time his lazy ass men joined the fight. They should’ve been out there, preventing this crap from happening in the first place.

  Ronnie entered the small house, knife ready. He ran down the short L-shaped hall and kicked open the master bedroom door. The bed was empty. He quickly checked the bathroom and then the second bedroom. Nothing.

  Spinning on his heels, Ronnie ran into the kitchen and looked around. One of the kitchen chairs was lying on its side. He eyed the small living room. An end table and lamp was toppled over and on the floor. Fluorescent light from the security lamp on the back porch lit up the room. The back door had been left open by whatever the hell it was that’d entered his home. Ronnie heard more screaming.

  He raced back to his bedroom and grabbed a gun from the nightstand drawer. A knife wasn’t going to cut it.

  Gun ready, Ronnie ran out the back door. He was gonna blast the alien bastard that stole his girls, straight to hell.

  Chapter 4

  The scary monster with the golden yellow eyes stood in the doorway of the bathroom, staring at Kylie. She knew it wasn’t one of the infected by the strange clicking sounds it was making. However, it had yellow eyes like the infected, but it didn’t look human. Most of its face and body were covered in strange clothing.

  It could be one of the infected, she thought, but doubted it. It was taller than an average human and wider. It was probably a creature from one of the alien ships.

  “What do you want?” she screamed, voice trembling, clutching the scissors in her right hand.

  The creature emitted a deep rumble sound coming from its chest. There was just enough moonlight coming in from the small window behind Kylie above the shower that she could see
one of its hands with razor sharp, claw-like talons sticking out of the fingertips of black leather gloves. Each nail appeared just as deadly as knife blades. If he wanted to, she was sure he could rip her to shreds with one swipe of his hand. Her eyes quickly went to the creatures’ other hand. He was wearing a glove, on that hand too, but no claws unless they were hidden inside. Then she wondered if the claws were retractable like a cat’s claws. The thought made her knees go weak. She felt as though she’d collapse.

  The growling grew louder, more fierce.

  Still standing in the bathtub, Kylie pushed her back against the tiled wall below the small window. Not knowing what else to do, she began to scream at the top of her lungs, hoping that her uncle, if he were still alive, would hear her. The creature rushed at her, and she slashed at it with the scissors, but the creature was too strong and too fast for her. In a blink of an eye, she felt herself being lifted out of the tub. The scissors fell out of her hand, landing on the tile floor with a clatter. With what seemed like very little effort, the creature rushed from the bathroom with Kylie slung over its shoulder like a bag of potatoes, banging her shoulder into the doorframe on the way out. Kylie bellowed out in pain.

  Kicking her legs, and squirming, Kylie tried to free herself from the alien’s grip. As it glided down the stairs, Kylie reached out and tried to grab hold of the banister, but couldn’t grasp it. Her fingers grazed the wood as she pawed at it. She then continued to scream and kick, punching the back of the alien as hard as she could. Her fuss didn’t seem to slow it down. At the bottom of the staircase, the alien’s razor-sharp talons pierced her upper leg where it’d been holding on to her as a warning.

  Kylie, screeched as her thigh was skewered. The pain was so unbelievably sharp that she was afraid to continue kicking her legs for fear of causing more damage. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and her nose began to run.

  The front door was open. Kylie looked up, feeling helpless as the alien ran across the front yard, crossing the street and then into the neighbors’ yard. The fog coming in from the ocean was thick, making it hard for Kylie to see her house.

  Kylie let out another loud scream, yelling for her uncle or the neighbor boy from her school, Ethan Spencer, in case either of them was nearby. The rest of the neighborhood was long gone. She hadn’t seen anyone else alive on her street in weeks. Her sobbing was uncontrollable. The alien cut through more yards and was now somewhere behind her neighborhood. Between the darkness of the night and the thickness of the fog, Kylie no longer recognized her surroundings.

  “Uncle Jack! Ethan! Someone…please,” she cried. “Help me! Please… Uncle Jack…”

  Ignoring the searing pain in her leg, Kylie tried to move and pounded on the alien’s back with her fists. The more she pounded, the faster the creature seemed to travel.

  ***

  After what seemed an eternity, Amanda decided that she needed to do something. Her imagination was getting the better of her, and she couldn’t just sit there doing nothing.

  Where the hell is he? Why hasn’t he come back yet? What if he needs my help?

  Amanda kept picturing Bill in her mind, lying in the grass outside, injured. After she’d heard that horrific screeching sound, coming from outside, her mind wouldn’t let her rest. Images of Bill bleeding to death kept popping into her head. He needed her.

  Crawling to the door of the crawlspace above her bathroom, Amanda sat for a moment, listening. When she didn’t hear anything and was positive no one was in the master bedroom, she opened the cupboard door. She looked around the dark room below her. She couldn’t see much except for the light filtering in through the slats of her mini-blinds from a security lamp outside her apartment window.

  Amanda reached for one of the two backpacks leaning against the wall; she rummaged through the emergency items she’d packed until she found the small LED flashlight. Somehow, she’d managed to lose her Mag-light. She crawled back over to the cupboard-like door and peered around the room, shining the flashlight on the floor.

  “Damn it!” Her apartment had extremely high cathedral ceilings, and Amanda was terrified of heights. She had no way down without the stupid ladder.

  How dare Bill leave me up here! She knew that he was trying to keep her safe, but hell, she bet that not once did he think about how she’d get down if something happened to him.

  Amanda contemplated on carefully dropping herself down by hanging from the side of the crawlspace before landing, but decided against it. She remembered how the entire place would shake when her neighbor’s kids that used to live next door jumped around while playing. If she were to drop down, it’d probably be loud enough to alert the Scourge to her whereabouts.

  Amanda zipped up the backpack she’d gotten the flashlight from and slid the straps over her shoulders. She shined the silver flashlight on the case of bottled water she’d stored up there, next to the rolled up sleeping bags, and debated on putting a bottle or two in her backpack. She then shined her light towards the neighboring apartment and couldn’t see much. She decided she’d crawl from apartment to apartment within her building until she could find a way out of the ceiling. Slipping off the backpack, Amanda removed a large bag of trail mix and then moved two large pocketknives to a side pocket on the outside of the backpack for easy access. She then replaced the trail mix with a couple of bottles of spring water. As she zipped up the backpack, she thought she heard something creak from within her apartment.

  Did the front door open? she wondered trying to figure out what could have made that sound.

  Sitting still, she listened. When she didn’t hear anything further, she slipped her arms through the straps and secured the backpack to her back. She got into a crawling position when she heard something again. Footsteps. Bill?

  Amanda switched off the flashlight and scurried to the cupboard door. Her heart thumping in her chest. She wanted to call out for Bill but knew it’d be better to stay silent and wait. If the footsteps belonged to Bill, he’d know where she was hiding.

  Amanda leaned forward, and with her fingertip, opened the cupboard door just a crack. On all fours, she waited, her right eye peering through the tiny opening. Her heart leaped in her chest when the bedroom door crashed open, slamming into the wall. A tall, dark figure entered the room. Amanda caught a glimpse of the back of it as it wandered to the center of her room. Positive this alien was Scourge, possibly the one she saw through her peephole earlier on the doorstep; she gently let the cupboard close and carefully backed away from the crawlspace door.

  Suddenly she heard a crashing sound in the bedroom as if furniture were being thrown. Amanda’s gut told her that the Scourge sensed her. It knew she was there.

  What if it can get in the crawlspace? It might even be able to reach the door; it was so tall. What if it noticed the ladder?

  Amanda’s breath caught in her throat. Propelling herself backward, Amanda then turned around. There was just enough space for her to crawl. She quickly scurried on all fours; however, the flashlight was still gripped tightly in her right hand making it hard to move fast. She wanted so badly to turn on the light so she could see where she was going, but was too afraid of drawing attention to herself.

  Quickly, Amanda switched the flashlight on just long enough to get her sense of direction and turned it back off. She shoved it into the back pocket of her jeans to free up her hands and began to crawl as fast as she could. There was more clattering and banging, and then Amanda could swear the noise grew louder, closer.

  The palms of her hands felt gritty with dust and grime as she continued forward. She worried about how much noise she was making as her knees shuffled across the boards. They were beginning to burn and hurt as she moved. The palms of her hands collected splinters as she used them to feel her way around.

  Huge wispy cold strings stretched across Amanda’s face, sticking to her lips and hair. She tried not to shudder as she realized she crawled through spider webs. At the moment, spiders were the least of her worries. She quickly
swiped them away and continued crawling until her forehead smacked into something hard, causing her to see stars.

  Dazed, Amanda reached out and felt a wooden support beam in front of her. She closed her eyes against the pain and listened.

  Bam! Crash! Shuffle…shuffle…

  Amanda’s body stiffened at the sound. There were a few more noises, and then a scuffling sound accompanied by creaking.

  Oh my God! Amanda’s shoulders stiffened. Her senses were on high alert. The Scourge was in the crawlspace.

  Patting the beam in front of her with her hands, she then felt the drywall. She reached for the flashlight in the back pocket of her jeans. It was gone.

  “Crap!” she breathed. It must’ve fallen out of her pocket. She’d crawled quite a ways and figured that she had to be at least two or three apartments down from her own. Feeling her way along the drywall, reaching out every now and again, she hoped to feel a door similar to the one in her room up in the ceiling. There had to be more than one way out.

  Amanda prayed that the Scourge couldn’t see her, smell her, or hear her. However, she knew it could. The only thing that might be on her side was that the Scourge was enormous in magnitude. She hoped, the Scourge would have a hard time maneuvering through the ceiling.

  Feeling her way along the wall, her hand pushed on a spot and the wall moved. Her stomach leaped into her chest. It was a cupboard door identical to the one over the master bathroom in her apartment.

  Amanda carefully pushed open the door in case there was Scourge in the apartment below her. The room was dark. She looked around trying to see what was below her. Hearing the scuffling in the crawlspace grow louder, and then a couple of loud thumps behind her, Amanda took a leap of faith and dropped from the ceiling. The cupboard door clattered shut behind her as she fell, landing on what felt like a couch. Unfortunately, she dropped so hard, she rolled off the side of the couch and landed hard on the floor with a loud thud.