“You eat cats?” asked Roger.
“That’s pretty much what I just said, yeah,” Deacon responded defensively. “In this door here, we keep the rabbits. I pulled them all from a pet store around the block. I grabbed the food from various other pet stores and markets. The rabbits breed much quicker than the cats do, of course, but we can’t survive eating rabbit alone. Once in a while we can get a tomato plant to grow, and there is an orange tree in the neighboring yard.”
“Why can’t you eat only rabbits?” Bradley asked.
Slightly taken aback, Deacon responded, “Because of rabbit starvation.” The three men stared at him with blank expressions. “You know—rabbit starvation. Protein poisoning, seriously? I thought everyone knew about rabbit starvation.”
“Never heard of it,” Guillermo said. “Are you being serious or just messing with us?”
“I don’t even know what to say right now. How did you guys survive all this time?”
“Well not by eating rabbits and cats,” Bradley responded.
“We would die if we ate nothing but rabbit, so let’s end it there. Moving along with the tour.” Deacon turned from the men and walked the rest of the way down the hall. He reached up to the rope that hung from the attic steps and pulled.
Roger was the last one through the attic door, and although he was opposed to eating cats, the smell of the dried meat hanging in the corner made his mouth water. He didn’t want to be the first to admit it, but at this point, meat was meat. Roger grabbed several strips of what he assumed was cat jerky, and sat on a couch cushion at the opposite end of the room.
They shared stories for the next hour. When Deacon started talking, he didn’t want to stop. He talked about his career, his survival after the attack, and even told a few dirty jokes. Some of his stories were what he referred to as “war stories”. These were the stories he told about working as a firefighter and paramedic in Los Angeles. Seeing the dead walk wasn’t the worst thing he’d seen.
Chapter 9
The bell sounded in the firehouse. It was late morning, and the men sitting around the living quarters of Fire Station No. 34 reacted without hesitation. Deacon stood up from the couch, pressed his index finger onto the power button of the Playstation to turn it off, and moved for the lockers that held their gear.
They had been listening to the news, as well as the commotion over the scanners. Their paramedic crew for the shift had already been sent out on several severe injuries. The police were now out in full force after bringing in every off-duty officer in the area, and all that was left on standby was the small group of firefighters.
Timmy, a tall, muscular man with a shaved head, came barging out of the restroom, still buttoning his jeans. “What the hell is it?” he asked in his deep voice. His large tattooed right arm reached into his locker for his bunker gear. The bio-mechanical tattoo gave the appearance that his arm was controlled by a series of cogwheels, levers, and pistons.
“There is a fire that started in King’s Diner up on Cochran Street. The fire caused the gas line to burst sending the blaze into the Cochran apartment complex,” Kathrine said. In her late twenties, Kathrine had worked her way to Captain. Her walnut brown eyes were poised, and her long brown hair was often pulled back into a ponytail. None of the guys doubted her abilities or intelligence.
“Hop in. We don’t have all day.” The voice came from the window of the large red engine. Kyle was a few inches under six feet tall. His shaggy blonde hair made him look like a surfer. Despite his small frame, Kyle had an amazing amount of strength and stamina. In the few years he had been a paramedic, he had saved the lives of many people much larger than him by carrying them to safety.
The large garage door rose up, allowing the warm sun to pour in. Before pulling the thirty-five-thousand-pound truck out, Kyle hit the siren. A light outside on the street flashed, alerting traffic that the behemoth was on the move and they needed to clear the way. Luckily, all the news of a series of attacks had most drivers off the streets.
“Is that Barry’s rig?” Kyle asked. He pointed down the street as they passed through the intersection. Smoke rolled from the front end of the ambulance, except the front end was somewhere in the middle now. The area that used to be the front of the truck was occupied by a car that had been parked on the side of the street.
“Oh God, was that a body?” Kathrine asked. A brief glimpse of a mangled woman lay on the street in between the two vehicles. The woman’s arms waved back and forth. “Engine 3421 to dispatch.”
“Go ahead Engine 3421, this is dispatch,” The woman’s voice came over the radio.
“It looks like we have an ambulance involved in a collision just off the intersection of Mission and Costa Vista. Can you send someone out to check on that please? We are en route to a fire.” Kathrine couldn’t see the ambulance anymore.
“We will do what we can, 3421. Unfortunately, we have several ambulances that have not reported back in yet. It seems to be getting worse out there, so please be careful, hun.”
“Ten-four,” Kathrine said before throwing the handset against the dash. She didn’t lose her temper often, and she was doing everything she could to keep it in check now.
“I’m sure everything’s fine,” Kyle said. “Let’s get this fire taken care of, and by the time we are finished with that we will have heard from the others.” Even Kyle was beginning to doubt that, however, as he had to swerve quickly to avoid an accident with a car that had a man hanging from the driver side window trying to enter.
The smoke rose up as the truck sped toward the fire. With two blocks remaining, the flames came into view. People lined the streets, no longer worried about their own safety. For the most part, people seemed to abandon all concern for personal safety when there was a chance to watch a disaster.
Kyle pulled the engine next to a fire hydrant, put the transmission in park, and hit the emergency brake. Tommy was on the ground with a hydrant wrench before the truck had even stopped. By the time he was ready to go with the water, Deacon had the hoses attached. With the “ready-to-go” signal, Tommy cranked the valve open.
“It’s kind of weird that no other trucks are here,” Deacon said to Tommy. “A blaze like this should have attracted attention from the firehouse on this end of the city, especially during a drought.”
“There is some weird shit going on today,” Tommy said as he walked up to take the spray nozzle from Kyle.
Deacon looked around at the crowd as he put on his Self-Contained Breathing Apparatus. It never ceased to amaze him that so many people came out to watch such a horrible scene. Grabbing his axe, he turned back toward the blaze and prepared to enter with Kathrine close behind. With Tommy on the hose and Deacon and Kathrine entering the building, Kyle took command of the operation.
“Radio check,” Deacon said into his radio.
“Copy,” Kathrine responded.
“Copy,” Kyle followed up.
“It was reported that there are at least six people unaccounted for. They’re all residents of this end of the complex where the fire first breached,” Kathrine said.
The glass from the doors crunched and popped under Deacon’s boots as he entered the building. With the door’s glass already shattered and scattered across the floor, they stepped through with the doors still closed. Passing through the entryway, the sound of the roaring flames, creaking wood, breaking glass, and water from the hose merged into a demonic chorus.
“The missing residents are from the second and third floor,” Kathrine said.
“Wouldn’t expect it to be any other way. They’re never on the first floor. That’d be too easy,” Deacon responded. “Any signs of another unit out there?”
“Not yet,” Kyle came across the radio.
“We can’t fight this blaze on our own! We would never leave a unit out on their own to fight a fire like this.” Deacon’s anger grew.
“Our best bet is to try and keep the area clear ahead of you. Without help we have no ch
oice but to let the rest burn. That’s my call,” Kyle said with confidence.
“Good. I want nothing to do with it, mate,” Deacon replied with a hint of humor.
“Through here. I think I hear something,” Kathrine said pointing to the stairwell.
“Yeah, sounds like a woman.” The stairwell was warm as he stepped in ahead of Kathrine. The creaking was amplified in here, yet it wasn’t from the concrete stairs. The quiet moans could be heard just through the door that lead out to the second floor. Once again, Deacon placed an ungloved hand to the door.
Slowly wrapping his fingers around the doorknob, he turned it gently. “It’s locked,” he said. “Stand back.” He lifted his right leg up as high as he could with his bunker gear on and gave the door a hard kick, and then another.
The second kick was enough for the door to swing open with a loud bang. The hallway was covered in flames. Just to the left of the stairs lay a mangled body. Kathrine crouched down and checked for a response even though she knew there wouldn’t be one. The man was missing most of his face.
“Do you think he was trampled?” Deacon asked.
“I don’t know. It looks like his face was chewed off,” Kathrine responded, still examining the man. “I’m not even kidding. What the fuck happened to him?”
Deacon continued his scan of the hallway. A woman moved toward them from the charred door. The middle-aged Hispanic woman wore a long blue dress. “Are you hurt, ma’am?” Deacon asked as she approached. Most of her hair had been burned off, and the skin on her arms was bubbled and blistered from the heat.
She reached out to Deacon, who reached back to take her hands. The moment their hands connected, the woman pulled herself close to him, scratching and biting at his face. Unable to make it past the thick glass of his mask, she began punching violently at his heavily padded chest.
“Ma’am, what the hell is wrong with you? We’re here to help you,” Deacon pleaded.
“Hello, we’re with the fire department. We would like to get you out of here. Are your parents still inside?” Kathrine asked. A little boy stood in the hallway at the other end. His shirt was covered in blood. “Are you hurt?”
“Can you help get this bitch off me? Ma’am, I’m going to knock you out if you don’t stop!” Deacon struggled with the woman before finally turning her around and wrapping his arms tightly around her body. “Be careful Kathrine. Have him come to you. The floor may collapse under your combined weight.”
She nodded her understanding and said, “Come on, little man. Can you walk to me?”
Without another word the child moved to her. He walked quickly, yet his legs didn’t bend well enough to run. He must be handicapped, she thought. Kathrine picked him up as he reached her. Judging by his size, he could only be about four or five years old.
“Are you alright, little guy?” she asked.
The only response he gave was a low guttural moan, and then he began smacking wildly at her mask and neck. The surprise attack caused Kathrine to let go of the boy, who fell to the floor with a thud. He stood up and instantly returned to his attack, biting and clawing at her legs.
“Junkies,” Deacon said, still holding onto the woman. “They must shoot up their children, too. Hook them young to get work and money out of them in return for drugs.”
“Well let’s get these two the hell out of here. If we need to come back in after that we can.” The boy kicked hard, but it wasn’t hard enough to break free of Kathrine’s grip on him. Little bastard is strong, she thought. She couldn’t wait until they were back outside where Tommy could take this little brat.
Tommy was still spraying the massive stream of water into the building when Deacon and Kathrine came out with the two residents. Kyle rushed over to help. He grabbed the kid and took him from Kathrine, but as soon as Kyle grabbed the boy, the boy dug his teeth into the firefighter’s strong arm.
Kyle cursed loudly and dropped the boy. Without any hesitation, the boy charged back at Kyle, punching and scratching at him. Blood poured down Kyle’s arm as he tried to defend himself from his small attacker. He couldn’t do much along the lines of defending himself as many people stood by watching, phones in their hands, recording everything. Kicking the child across the yard crossed his mind, yet he was stopped by the fear of losing his job.
“Don’t let go of the woman!” yelled Kathrine. She took her coat off and tackled the boy, wrapping him up tightly. “Is anyone coming to help us!”
“No. I can’t get a response,” said Kyle. The pain in his arm was too much. He lay down in the grass hoping it would pass so he could get to the med kit in the truck.
“Tommy! Shut it down!” Kathrine ordered.
“Ten-four,” Tommy responded. He twisted the nozzle closed and ran to check on Kyle. “Let me grab the kit. You stay here.”
The big man hustled to the truck, disappeared through the rear door, and then reemerged with the large orange medical bag. Before he could reach Kyle, however, a man grabbed hold of his arm. Tommy spun around and looked down into the face of a man who didn’t really have much of a face to look into.
Most of his teeth had been busted out, and his nose was broken. The blood from his face gushed all down the front of him. Lunging forward, the man knocked Tommy down and kicked and punched at his face. Tommy swung the medical bag hard, causing the man to fall to the side.
“What the hell is going on here?” he yelled. Looking around at the city, he finally started to pick up on everything else around him. Screams, car horns, sirens, gunshots, and speeding vehicles could be heard from all around them. They had only been fighting the fire for twenty minutes, and all the chaos they saw down the streets had reached them.
“I think we need to get the hell out of here. I can’t hold this crazy bitch forever,” insisted Deacon. The crazed woman continued tirelessly to free herself from his grasp. “Your buddy’s back, Tommy.”
The man tried to lunge for Tommy once more, but Tommy was ready for him this time. A well-placed boot to the man’s chest put him on the ground for good, or at least that’s what Tommy had thought. Instead, the man slowly stood his stiff body back up and made yet another move for the much larger firefighter.
Looking around quickly, Tommy noted that none of the gawkers were still watching. Bodies lay in the neighboring yards and parking lots, many of which tried to pick themselves up off the ground. Feeling confident no one was watching, and that what he was about to do was in self-defense, Tommy punched the man in the face, holding nothing back.
His face burst in a spray of blood, yet he continued to move toward Tommy. With self-preservation a top priority, Tommy unleashed a barrage of punches to the man’s head. Even as the man lay on the ground, Tommy continued to punch. The skull cracked, blood poured from the man’s eyes and ears, Tommy continued to punch.
Tommy stood over the dead man in the grass. Blood covered most of his muscular body. “It’s the damn drugs, I say.” Deacon’s voice snapped him back to reality. Running to aid his friend, Tommy grabbed the woman from Deacon’s hands and kicked her hard in the lower back. The sound caused both men to flinch as her back snapped with enough force to bend the woman backwards. She never showed any signs of pain, and without the use of her legs she still tried to crawl to the men.
“Let’s really get the hell out of here,” Deacon said, receiving no objection from Tommy. “You grab Kyle, I’ll help Kathrine tie this little brat up.”
By the time Deacon and Kathrine tied the boy up in Kathrine’s coat, Tommy had carried Kyle to the truck and helped him into the back seat. Blood poured quickly from the wound on his arm. Tommy could see most of the blood had flown from Kyle’s radial artery. He applied pressure to his arm in hopes of slowing the flow, but the artery had been ripped open, allowing too much blood loss already.
Chapter 10
Deacon blasted the sirens as soon as he climbed into the driver’s seat of the massive truck. He pulled out onto the street with the plan of looping around the block and h
eading toward the hospital. Most of the street was clear of civilians; however, many abandoned vehicles were scattered about.
“Engine 3421 to dispatch,” Kathrine said into the radio. “Do you copy, dispatch?” Silence. “Engine 3421 to dispatch, can you hear me?” Silence. “Dispatch! Where the hell are you?” She slammed the radio handset into the windshield, cracking the glass, and let out a scream.
“I’m sure they’re busy with all this chaos,” Deacon assured her. “Try your cell; call the hospital and let them know we’re coming.”
Kathrine thumbed through the contacts until she reached the number for the emergency room. She pressed the screen above the name and the phone connected the call. Ring . . . Ring . . . Ring . . . Ring . . . Squeezing the phone tightly in her hand, Kathrine fought hard to not throw the phone into the windshield as well. “Just get us there quickly,” she finally said.
None of the three firefighters knew what to think of the gruesome scene all around them as they drove through the city toward the hospital. Blood stained spots on the concrete, people ran for their lives, others lay dead in yards or next to their cars. Many of the bodies were missing arms or legs.
Kyle lay on the seat, sweat beaded up on his pale face and neck. His breathing became very shallow and raspy. Tommy sat on the floor next to him watching out the side window. He didn’t want to let go of Kyle’s arm in fear of the blood pumping too quickly out of his body.
The closer they made it to the hospital, the more packed the street became with abandoned cars. Deacon slowed down, but only enough to do less damage to the truck as he plowed through the street, shoving cars and trucks out of the way with the bumper. He shut the siren off, as it finally occurred to him that it was still on and none of these cars were going to move out of the way on their own.
Many people wandered around in front of the hospital. They were covered in blood and looked sick. “This must be the line for the ER?” Deacon asked.
Decay | Book 1 | Civilization Page 10