Fatal Reaction, Battle of the Hunted

by M A Hollstein

  Ronnie suddenly felt faint and could no longer hold back the puke rising in his throat. He turned away from the bodies and puked his brains out. When he was back in control of his senses because there was nothing left in his stomach, he tried to open the back door to the shop. The handle wouldn’t budge. It was locked. He banged on the door.

  “Hey!” he bellowed. “Open the fuckin’ door! It’s me! Hey!” He continued to bang on the door. “Open up you cowards!” Again, he tried shaking the handle.

  “God damn it!” he cursed, stomping around the side of the building. As he passed by the dumpster, he stopped and kicked it out of frustration. The same stray cat that’d taken up residence there screeched as it scurried past him.

  When he reached the front of the building, Ronnie banged on one of the metal garage doors with his fist. It echoed loudly. “Open up!” he yelled. “Where the hell is everyone?”

  He walked to the other metal door, which never seemed to roll down all the way. It was usually open anywhere from six inches to a foot from the ground. Normally it pissed him the hell off whenever the door wouldn’t close. Right now, he was happy to see that something for once was going his way. Light poured out from under the door. He could see that the lights were on. He banged on the door.

  “Hey, idiots! It’s me! Open up the fucking door!”

  There was no answer and no sounds coming from within the garage.

  Ronnie looked around to make sure none of those alien bastards was hanging around before getting on all fours to look under the door. When he felt satisfied that no one else was around, he got down on the ground and peered inside.

  “Oh, shit!” The first thing Ronnie saw was his buddy, Scott, lying on the garage floor in a pool of blood, blocking his view of the garage. His sightless pale blue eyes were facing him.

  To get into the garage, he would need to push Scott’s body out of the way, and then scoot through the blood. Before resorting to crawling through blood, he’d try one other thing first.

  Hopping onto his feet, Ronnie went to the front office door. He highly doubted it was open, but thought he’d give it a try anyhow. If the place were being attacked by aliens while he was away, that’d probably be one of the first things the guys did was lock the doors.

  Grabbing hold of the doorknob, Ronnie was surprised when it turned.

  “Well,” he muttered. “I do work with a bunch of freaking morons.” He entered the small waiting room and walked over to the office that was once used by the mechanics for totaling up their customer’s bills.

  Ronnie switched on the small overhead light. The room had been left untouched. He grabbed hold of the doorknob to the door leading to the garage. Locked.

  “What the fuck!” Losing his temper, he kicked the door with the steel toe of his boot. “Hey! Anyone in there? It’s me! Open up!” He banged on the door with his fist. “Fucking hell!”

  Clink!

  Ronnie stopped pounding on the door and held still, listening.

  Tap! Tap!

  The sounds were coming from the bathroom behind the office. The door was closed. Ronnie walked over to the door and kicked the flimsy hollow door open with his boot. The door splintered just below the knob. He aimed his gun threateningly even though it was out of bullets.

  “Don’t hurt me!” said a voice.

  “What the hell are you doing in there?” Ronnie yelled, as the small light from over the office counter, that divided the office from the waiting room, lit up the bathroom, and he recognized Burt. Burt was in his late sixties, heavy-set, and had a long white beard like Santa Clause. His hands were up in the air, trembling, as he sat on the toilet.

  “It… it was horrible!” Burt’s voice trembled.

  “Where is everyone?”

  “Gone.”

  “Gone where?”

  “The aliens took a couple of the younger guys…”

  “Took them?”

  Burt nodded.

  “What about the rest?”

  Burt’s eyes grew large. “Ate them.”

  “Ate them?”

  Burt nodded some more. “Ate their guts out.”

  “Why didn’t they eat you old man?” Ronnie asked.

  Burt shrugged. “Dunno. I was takin’ a crap when it happened.”

  “You yellow-bellied, lily-livered, chicken-shit coward. You hid, didn’t you? You hid saving your own hide while everyone one else was slaughtered.”

  “Not everyone one. They took the youngens.”

  “Why’d they take them?” Ronnie questioned while thinking of his two young women the aliens stole from him.

  Burt didn’t say anything. He just stared.

  “Stop staring at me like a goddamn idiot and help me get this fuckin’ door open,” Ronnie growled, kicking the door leading to the garage. The door was made of metal and couldn’t be kicked in.

  “I…I ain’t got the key.”

  “You don’t have the key? You don’t have the key! What good are you? I should just shoot your ass now and put you outta your misery!” Ronnie glared at him. “I’ve gotta idea. Follow me outside. I’m gonna put you to good use. You’re gonna crawl under the door and let me inside.”

  Burt followed Ronnie to the garage door. “I want you to crawl under there and then let me in.”

  Burt looked at the small opening. He was a heavyset man. “I don’t think I’ll fit.”

  “If you scoot on your belly you will.”

  Burt grimaced and then slowly got on all fours to peer under the door. He then looked up at Ronnie, wide-eyed. “There’s… um…”

  “Yeah, I know, a body. Push it outta the way and crawl under.”

  “Blood…” Burt said.

  “You wanna join the rest of the crew?” Ronnie said. “You will if you don’t make yourself useful and crawl under that goddamn door!”

  Burt closed his eyes pretending not to notice the blood or Scott’s body in the way, and pushed himself under the door. There were a lot of grunts and groans in the process.

  Ronnie rolled his eyes as he heard Burt throwing up on the other side of the garage door. As soon as the retching ended, Burt unlatched the garage door and rolled it up. He stood there trembling, his shirt and jeans soaked with blood. The right half of his face and beard was also coated with the sticky red substance.

  “Glad to see you’re good for something,” Ronnie barked at the older man and slapped his shoulder.

  Looking around the room, Ronnie was shocked by the massacre. Blood was splattered everywhere. His men were gone. The two bodies in the garage were hollowed out, the same as the two out back.

  Ronnie walked over to the back wall and studied his arsenal. To his surprise, the alien bastards hadn’t taken the weapons or touched the motorcycles.

  “Tonight,” he said, eyeing his Harley. “We’re gonna get my women, and what’s left of our crew, back from them alien bastards. I ain’t gonna wait ‘til morning. I’m pissed as hell!”

  Burt didn’t say anything. He was dependant on Ronnie for his survival.

  “Go get yourself cleaned up. You look like hell.”

  “Yes, sir,” Burt muttered.

  “In a couple hours, we ride to Oceanside.”

  As much as he hated the la Muerte, his rivals, he was going to pay them a visit. If they were going to defeat this alien threat, he’d need all the help he could get. The two gangs would need to come together and he would lead.

  ***

  Running further down the hill, deeper into the canyon, Bill took the long way back to the apartment. He wanted to get back to Amanda but was worried he’d lure the aliens to the hiding place in the attic.

  As far as he could tell, the alien that was following him had disappeared after the stupid ray gun caught the tree on fire. Bill could still see the hillside blazing in the distance. He worried about the fire growing out of control and working its way up the hillside to the apartments.

  What if the fire spread? He knew he’d be able to get back to Amanda before that
could happen, however, if the fire didn’t burn itself out, Amanda would lose her home. At this point, they could easily find somewhere else to live, but the only shred of normalcy left in life for Amanda was her apartment with her belongings from before the virus hit. Bill didn’t want that to be taken from her.

  He had to get back to Amanda. Bill ran parallel to the apartments and then began his climb up the hillside. Grabbing hold of a tree branch, Bill used it to help propel himself upward. He then hit a steep section of dirt, his feet slipped, and he almost dropped the ray gun. Snatching hold of some shrubbery with his free hand, he managed to keep himself from sliding further down the hill. Scrambling, he managed to work his way to the top. Once he reached the ridge, he emerged from the canyon just past Amanda’s apartment complex and was standing in a small grove of trees. When he found his way out of the grove, he was happy to see the lights and the familiar grounds.

  Cutting across the lawn, he worked his way over to the parking lot that was in between the fenced-in dog park and near Amanda’s building.

  Standing near the edge of the chain-link fence, Bill stared up at Amanda’s bedroom window on the second floor that faced the parking lot. The blinds were still closed, and everything seemed quiet. Bill hoped the aliens had been so preoccupied with following him, that they hadn’t found her.

  When he felt it was safe, he stepped out into the open and crossed the small parking lot. He stepped up onto the sidewalk and followed the path that would lead to the backside of the building. Grimacing, Bill averted his eyes. The body belonging to the alien of The Order that’d tried to help him was still lying there. He hated to leave the man, or being, or whatever the hell he was, laying there.

  Bill walked up to the body and aimed the ray gun at it. He still didn’t know how to work the damn thing. When he’d fallen, it’d accidentally gone off on its own. Bill ran his fingers over the gun feeling the smooth surface. He said a little prayer in his head for the alien and thanked his spirit guide and angels for saving his ass from the Scourge. Amanda’s prayers and talks of angels had been wearing off on him. Before the virus hit, and before Amanda, he’d never prayed. Now he caught himself doing it on a daily basis.

  Aiming the gun, Bill decided to try tapping the butt of the gun with his shoulder. Nothing happened. He tapped it a bit harder, and to his surprise, a bolt of blue light shot out of the end, zapping the body.

  Poof! The alien’s body was reduced to ashes.

  “It worked,” Bill whispered, still in shock. He couldn’t wait to tell Amanda the good news. Bounding around the corner of the building, Bill climbed the stairs to the apartment two at a time. A lump formed in his throat as he noticed the open front door. Amanda would never leave the door open. Besides, he’d taken the ladder away from the crawlspace to keep her hidden.

  Careful, Bill nudged the front door with the barrel of the ray gun. It creaked as it slowly swung all the way open. Edging his way inside, he stood in the entrance and listened.

  Silence.

  Bill flicked on the light in the small dining area to his right. Everything appeared to be the same as when he’d left. Closing the front door behind him, he made sure to fasten the bolt, in case aliens followed him.

  Entering the kitchen, Bill looked around. He slid open the double sliding doors to the pantry, ready to blast the ray gun if needed. There was no one hiding inside. He walked around the living room and then parted the vertical blinds covering the sliding glass doors to check the balcony. So far, everything was clear.

  Walking down the hallway, he opened the door to the spare room that he and his son, Benjamin, had been sharing up until recently. His stomach clenched and his heart felt heavy as he stared into the bedroom. Benjamin’s stuffed bear was on the bed. His throat constricted as he fought back his emotions. He needed to get in contact with Susan and Liam to find out how Benjamin was doing. Then he shook his head. He didn’t know where they took him. They told him they’d keep him informed. But that was before the Scourge arrived.

  The fire he’d accidentally started in the canyon flashed in his mind. If it were to spread to the apartments, and he and Amanda had to move, how would Susan and Liam find him? How would Benjamin find him?

  Closing the bedroom door, Bill walked down the hall to the master bedroom at the end. The door was open, and his pulse quickened. He specifically remembered shutting the door behind him.

  Gun ready to blast, Bill flipped on the light switch next to the door and the bedside lamp nearest the bathroom lit up. The room was empty. The ladder was still where he’d left it. He looked up at the crawlspace above the bathroom, and the cupboard-like door was wide open.

  “Amanda?” Bill called.

  No answer.

  Bill grabbed the ladder and rushed over to the crawlspace. Long jagged claw marks were at the bottom of the opening and etched into the wall. His mind began to race as he pictured the Scourge clawing at the opening as it hoisted itself up into the attic. Bill scrambled up the ladder, aiming his gun at the opening.

  It was dark inside, and he couldn’t see very far.

  “Amanda?” He stuck his head inside to get a better look. “Amanda!”

  There was no sign of her. Bill set the gun down and crawled inside. He reached over to grab his backpack that was leaning against the wall and noticed that Amanda’s backpack was missing. The case of bottled spring water and their sleeping bags were still there. Unzipping a side pouch on his pack, he retrieved his emergency flashlight and switched it on.

  “Amanda?” he called again, shining his light around. He felt a little better seeing that Amanda’s backpack was gone. He hoped that meant she’d fled their hiding spot before the Scourge had found it.

  Flashlight in one hand, and scooping up the ray gun with the other, Bill awkwardly crawled the length of the apartment. He continued to crawl until he came to a wall. Shining his light around, he noticed what appeared to be another cupboard door that was similar to the one over Amanda’s bathroom. He wondered if that’s how Amanda escaped.

  If she escaped.

  Pushing on the door, it swung open, and Bill peered down at a chocolate brown couch. The door opened to a high ceiling in a living room of an adjoining apartment.

  Staring down at the couch, before deciding whether or not he was going to leap out of the crawlspace, he shined his flashlight around the room. A lamp to the left of him had been knocked over and lying on its side on the floor, and a turquoise blue vase was shattered. Ceramic shards were scattered about the beige carpeting. He also noticed a large bookshelf toppled over blocking the front door. Books were strewn all over the floor.

  Not a good sign, he thought.

  “Amanda?” Bill called, hoping she was hiding in the apartment. “Amanda!”

  No answer.

  Setting down the ray gun and the flashlight near the edge of the crawlspace, Bill hopped down onto the couch.

  Not realizing just how high up he was he rolled off the couch and onto the floor with a loud crash. His foot hit the lamp on the ground, and he quickly realized how the lamp and the vase ended up on the floor to begin with. It didn’t answer his question about the bookshelf in front of the door though.

  Bill looked up at the crawlspace near the ceiling. He’d never be able to reach it to retrieve the ray gun and the flashlight. The flashlight was still on and shining across the room from the opening.

  “Damn it!” he cursed, still lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. His lower back spasmed and nerve pain shot down his right leg when he tried to move.

  “Grrrrrr…” He heard a deep, familiar rumbling.

  Forcing himself to get up, Bill did his best to ignore the searing pain in his lower back and leg. His stomach clenched as he stared up at the crawlspace while scrambling to his feet. He needed to get his hands on that ray gun.

  The growling was coming from another room. Bill walked towards the small eat-in kitchen.

  Bang, bang! Bam! Thump! The sounds were coming from down the hall. Bill’
s heart thumped in his chest, threatening to burst through his ribcage. A horrifying picture of Amanda being devoured by the Scourge, or having become infected, flashed before his eyes.

  Before entering the hall, Bill grabbed a butcher knife from a knife block on the granite kitchen counter near the stove.

  “Amanda!” he called. “Amanda! You in here?” Bill heard some scuffling noises and a thump.

  Racing down the dark hallway, the handle of the butcher knife clutched tightly in his hand, Bill stopped at the only closed door at the end of the hall. He put his hand on the knob and hesitated.

  Bam! Bam! The door shook.

  Letting go of the knob, Bill jumped backwards. “Amanda! Are you in there?”

  Loud growling rumbled on the other side of the door. The sound of claws or nails raked the door from the inside.

  “Amanda?”

  Bang! Crack!

  The molding around the bedroom door, near the doorjamb, splintered. Bill didn’t wait to see if the growling belonged to the Scourge or the infected. Either way, he needed to get the hell out of there.

  Grabbing a stool from the bar at the kitchen counter, he carried it to the living room and placed it next to the couch. Quickly, he climbed up it and stood on the seat. It wasn’t high enough for him to reach the crawlspace.

  Bill eyed the bookshelf. He bet the Scourge, or infected, had knocked it over trying to leave the apartment. If it was Scourge, it was probably unaware of how doors on Earth worked and accidentally locked itself into the bedroom.

  With the infected, Bill had noticed that their cognitive skills seemed to deteriorate and only raw basic survival instincts such as the need to attack and feed remained. He wondered if the Scourge also functioned only on primal needs. Bill wasn’t about to hang around to find out. He just hoped that Amanda had fled the apartment.

  Setting the butcher knife down on the end table, so he had use of both of his hands, Bill stood on his tiptoes, reaching as high as he could. His fingertips barely grazed the bottom lip of the cupboard entrance.

  Crack! Crash! Thump!

  “Shit!” Bill stretched as high as he could trying to reach the cupboard. If only he could grab hold.