Dead Evolution

by Tim Moon

  “Grab your guns, we’ve got company,” Ben said with the bark of a drill instructor.

  The holes they had dug in the front yards had just claimed their first victim. It had worked like a charm. When Ben realized that, a shit-eating grin spread across his face. These fuckers were in for a rude surprise.

  Nervous energy coursed through him, yet his hands were steady on the binoculars. They had a plan for this kind of situation. Ben felt ready. The success of the trap boosted his confidence.

  A muffled response came from Anuhea’s room.

  Ben stayed focused the street. He leaned forward to slide the window open. Shots were going to be fired and there was no point in shattering the glass if he didn’t need to. Frigid air rushed in and sent the curtain and blanket flapping around him. Ben’s teeth clattered like a cartoon skeleton at the icy blast.

  The cries of pain became muffled. Clouds drifted away from the moon and the dull light revealed two more forms rushing out to help the injured guy. He gritted his teeth and cursed the intruders. At least three people had invaded their neighborhood.

  A dull crack, like a large twig snapping reached Ben’s ears and he saw a body collapse. Another intruder disabled. Fresh howls of pain filled the night. Bile burned the back of Ben’s throat and he had to swallow hard to keep from spitting it up.

  “Damn,” Ben muttered to himself, wincing at the burning sensation in his throat. As grateful as he was that the traps worked, the sound had shocked him. It also made him wish they had done more. If the sniper’s nest had been finished, he might have heard or spotted the men earlier.

  Ben chided himself as he raised the binoculars and saw three men in the front yard across the street. Two of them were out of commission but all of them were armed. He had the feeling these were not survivors. These men had intended to attack them, he was sure of it. No normal person would creep around like that in the middle of the night with a weapon.

  The third man was fully mobile and struggling to pull one of his friends across the pock marked lawn back to cover between the houses. Ben was about to set aside the binoculars to take up his rifle and end the intruder’s lives when he heard the metallic click of the fence latch and the creak of the gate’s hinges. It was a sound as familiar to him as his mother’s voice.

  A bulky form hobbled away from the side of Ben’s house, carrying something bulky.

  He cursed. Could they really be so close already?

  Charlotte raced downstairs without a word to take her pre-planned position on the front porch. Anuhea was two steps behind her and would take the other side of the porch. They were gone before his vocal chords obeyed his brain. He had to trust they could handle themselves. If their brief history together had proved anything, it was that they were tough.

  Ben bit his lip and brought up the rifle. He sighted on the man pulling his friend, when a shrill voice behind him interrupted his concentration.

  “Ben,” his mother shrieked. “Where’s Oliver?”

  Nancy burst of her bedroom causing Ben’s head to pop up from the rifle like a gopher. He heard three quick strides before she threw back the blanket that covered Ben. It tore free of the nails that held it to the window. He turned and saw the panic in her eyes even through the darkness. Her shoulders quivered as the winter air blasted her, yet her eyes were a furnace hot enough to destroy Sauron’s ring of power.

  “I don’t know,” Ben said as icy fingers of panic clenched his heart. “I’ve been here. There are people outside.”

  The snap of gun shots was quickly followed by the sharp crack of wood as the rounds hit the wall above their heads.

  “Get down,” he yelled as he shoved away from the table and tackled his mom to the floor to shield her.

  Nancy gasped in surprise and then began to scramble away. “I need to find Oliver.”

  “You can’t go alone,” Ben said.

  Chadwick poked his head out of the bedroom and then limped into the hallway. “How many are there?”

  Ignoring his question, Nancy snapped, “Oliver’s gone.”

  “Mom get your rifle. We’ll find Oliver,” Ben said.

  He rose to a knee and helped his mom up. She stood and whirled on her heel, rushing back into her bedroom. Ben could hear her throwing on a jacket and fumbling around for her weapon. Chadwick looked dumbstruck.

  “Get downstairs, man. There’s at least three armed men. Probably more,” Ben said.

  More bullets smacked into the house. Glass shattered somewhere. Then Charlotte and Anuhea opened fire. Shots began going back and forth at a steady pace.

  “Everyone okay?” Ben asked.

  “I’m fine,” Nancy called from the bedroom.

  “I’m good,” Chadwick said.

  Where was Mark? He’d gone downstairs to use the bathroom. A sinking feeling made Ben want to shout in fury.

  “Sonofabitch.” Ben realized his mistake to late.

  “What?” His mom and Chadwick asked at the same time.

  “It’s my fault,” Ben said.

  “Nonsense,” Nancy snapped.

  “Oliver is my responsibility and I didn’t protect him.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. We don’t even know what happened.”

  “I agreed to let Mark come back with us.”

  “Mark?” Chadwick asked.

  “You think he took Oliver,” Nancy said. Her eyes narrowed in anger, not at Ben but because she had welcomed him into their home.

  “I think so.” Ben’s head drooped.

  “Well, stop whingeing about it and let’s get him back,” Chadwick said with a growl that caught Ben off guard. His friend didn’t wait for a response before carefully limping downstairs to join the others. “Are you coming or not?”

  Ben gritted his teeth and turned back to the window. Taking a deep breath, he hunched over his rifle, resting his cheek against the stock to sight through the scope. Whoever was out there had cross onto their turf and put his friends and family at risk. He wouldn’t stand for that.

  One of the men injured with the traps sat on the ground, leaning against the side of a house. The uninjured man ran out to help the second guy who was slowly crawling towards his friends. They seemed oblivious to the firefight going on around them. Ben could tell Anuhea and Charlotte were shooting towards a different house. It was possible they hadn’t even seen the guys maimed by their traps.

  Ben took a deep, steadying breath. The moving forms stood out against the dark background just enough for him to aim. If only the clouds could blow away for a few minutes his job would be so much easier.

  Sighting on the uninjured man, Ben squeezed the trigger. The AR-15 nudged his shoulder as the shot cracked loudly in the night air. The man crumpled to the ground in a heap, landing atop his injured buddy who let out a shriek of fear and pain.

  Ben shifted his aim to the guy at the side of the house. He’d begun to crawl away desperately seeking cover. With a slow squeeze, Ben fired again. His aim must have been good because the guy stopped moving. A voice in his head warned against a ruse. Playing dead was an age-old trick and it was impossible for him to see where, or even if, he’d shot the man. Just to be safe, Ben squeezed off two more rounds before tracking back to the injured guy in the front yard.

  His brow furrowed at the sight of the man using his dead friend as a shield. Apparently, he was content to wait out the fight.

  Not if I have anything to say about it, Ben thought.

  Squeezing off a few shots at the dark mass in the front yard, Ben waited to see if anything moved. It was hard to tell, and he couldn’t waste all his time and ammo shooting through a dead body.

  He lifted his head to scan for new target when an orange flicker caught his eye. It grew into a small flame on the roof of the house across the street. Ben squinted in confusion and then his eyes widened as a man sat up and cocked his arm back.

  Sonofabitch, he thought, quickly taking aim as his heart skipped a beat. Fire bombing was not a scenario they had planned to defend again
st.

  The man was slow. Ben squeezed the trigger quickly, too quickly, but let out a breath when the man spasmed and dropped the bottle. He slumped backwards and the bottled rolled down the roof, leaving a swirling orange trail in the darkness.

  Then the bottle exploded. A splash of flame spread out like a tablecloth, covering the roof and the body of the man he’d shot. What little night vision Ben naturally had was lost in the brilliant flash of orange.

  Ben blinked his eyes to clear his vision. All he could see were orange spots. Then a hand grabbed his shoulder.

  Gasping, he spun around but it was his mom.

  “Come on,” she said.

  “Follow me.” Ben picked up the rifle from the table and turned to lead the way down the stairs.

  A blast of heat and light combined with his natural reaction made him fall down the stairwell. Screams echoed in his ears, muffled only by the thumps and grunts as he tumbled down. He came to a stop with bone jarring finality and groaned.

  “Shit,” he muttered. These guys are not playing around.

  Anger and fear boiled inside him. Where was his mom? He looked around with stars in his eyes but didn’t see her. Scrambling to his feet, Ben began to climb the stairs to find her. He winced at a stab of pain in his side.

  “Mom!” he shouted, clutching his side. A fit of coughing sent a cascade of agony through his chest. Fearing he’d been shot, he looked down at his hand but there was no blood.

  A groan caught his attention as he staggered up to find his mother. She groaned again, almost forming words. Dark smoke began to fill the air, forcing him to bend over to avoid the thick cloud billowing overhead. The movement caused a piercing ache to fill his chest. He reached out and after a few tries, felt her clutch his hand. Ben pulled his mother close and put an arm around her waist. Together, they stumbled down the staircase, coughing.

  Ben led his mom outside through the kitchen to the backyard. Fresh air was a balm to their parched throats and stinging eyes. After rubbing his face in the crook of his elbow, Ben squinted around. He had to see if Mark was there. Had that bastard really betrayed them?

  The backyard was empty.

  Orange light flared with the sound of shattering glass bursting on concrete. Gunshots split the air at odd intervals and Ben knew it was time to join the fray. It was time to hunt.

  “Take cover and watch our backs,” Ben told his mom. “Make sure no one flanks us.”

  “I’m not going to hide back here while Oliver is out there,” she said, her chin quivering with emotion. “Alone and terrified.”

  “Mom, I can’t lose you. Okay?” It was difficult to say aloud but it had the desired effect. Ben placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’ll get Oliver, I promise.”

  Nancy’s shoulders drooped, and then she gave a quick nod. “Come back safe.”

  “I will,” Ben said, giving her a quick hug. He turned and strode towards the gate in the fence.

  Fire burned in the street where the bottle had burst a few moments ago, the flames were low as they guttered out. He spotted a man rising above the rooftop across the street, another Molotov cocktail in his hand. Ben tried to take aim before the man could throw it, but someone on the porch beat him to the punch. Several quick shots rang out and the body pitched forward onto the roof.

  The bottle rolled down the slope, twirling its homemade fuse as it bumped over shingles. Suddenly it burst into a large fire ball that briefly illuminated two other people flinching away from the unexpected explosion. Another house began to burn.

  He opened the gate and rushed to the corner of the house. More unseen attackers opened fire. Ben dropped to a knee, pressing his back against the house. Wood crackled and popped as rounds punched holes in the walls of his house. Ben flinched away even though hit nearby. He could tell the shots were sloppy, wild.

  Ben’s lips curled into a vicious sneer. The enemy must have been thrown off balance by their preparations. He wondered briefly if they had grown used to bullying scared and defenseless people. Well, they were seeing first hand that didn’t describe his family. Ben clenched the grip of his rifle; he was going to take them out in the same way he had at the corner store.

  He looked across the street at the bodies in the front yard, still lying where he’d dropped them from the guard post. Ben studied the spaces in between houses where he’d spotted movement before.

  Ben moved to the side of the porch and said in a loud whisper, “Hey, it’s Ben.”

  A few seconds of shuffling and Charlotte peered down at him.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “They hit the top floor. The house is on fire. And I think Mark took Oliver. We can’t find him,” Ben said, gesturing across the street. He hoped they hadn’t taken the boy too far. “If you see Mark, kill him.”

  Charlotte’s eyes widened. “Oh my God.”

  “Yeah, don’t hesitate either.”

  Rounds whizzed overhead. Several struck the corner post near Charlotte’s head, showering her with splinters. She cursed and ducked down.

  Ben stayed behind the hedges along the edge of the house. When he found a good spot, he took a knee and raised his rifle. The people on the roof were his main concern. He saw a muzzle flash off to his right, but he couldn’t take them out without exposing himself too much. So, he looked back at the burning roof across the street. The flames were spreading quickly along one half of the house. The two forms that had been silhouetted earlier were still there, but they’d moved to the other side, out of reach of the fire.

  One guy held a bottle while his friend tried to light it. It looked as if he might be aiming for the front porch, right where Charlotte and Anuhea were taking cover. He quickly drew a bead on the guy and fired three times. The bottle left the man’s hand at the same time his body jerked and tipped sideways off the roof.

  Hopefully dead, he thought.

  The bottle arced forward causing Ben’s stomach to clench in disappointment until he realized there wasn’t much power behind the throw. It fell short and shattered on the sidewalk in front of the house, throwing up a fireball that stole whatever night vision he had left.

  Ben blinked furiously to get the orange spot out of his vision. He heard shouts down the street to his right. He moved closer to the side of the porch stairs and then stood to peer over the cars. They were coming.

  26

  The neighborhood was bathed in the orange glow of two house fires. Shots went back and forth in short bursts. Ben saw three men charge across the street towards his house. He raised his rifle and fired rapidly. One dropped, but the other two fanned out as they cut sideways to duck behind a house further down the street.

  “They’re on our right flank,” Ben said to his friends on the porch. “Watch the right, watch the right.”

  Wood crackled and popped as the flames devoured his childhood home. He squinted up at the house and cursed.

  “Fire!” Ben shouted. “The roof is on fire.”

  It might have been a funny line under different circumstances.

  Charlotte poked her head up again.

  “Get to the garage,” Ben said. “I’m going to get Oliver.”

  Chadwick hobbled down the stairs and ducked behind one of the cars on the front lawn. “Go! You too Anuhea. I’ll watch our flank.”

  Rounds cracked overhead, forcing Charlotte to dive for cover. Once again, a round splintered the post beside her head. The other went high and busted out a window behind them.

  “Keep your head down,” Ben shouted, returning fire. He thought he caught a glimpse of Mark. “There!”

  Ben squeeze off two rounds, aiming high to avoid Oliver. The shots went too high because the guys ducked out of view a moment later. As if lamenting his miss, it began to rain. Light droplets pattered down on his jacket.

  Anuhea dropped from the porch to join Ben. “Let’s go.”

  He nodded at her with a grim expression. He had to trust his friends to fight on their own. “If you have to leave,
take both cars to the fallback position,” Ben said.

  Chadwick waved him off. “Go!”

  Ben and Anuhea darted across the street to the side of the burning house, careful to dodge the holes they had dug. Ben slowed down at the side of the house and looked up, watching for enemies. At the back corner of the house, they peered around the edge.

  “Clear,” Ben whispered. The only enemy he saw was splayed out, spread eagle on the ground.

  A burst of gunfire erupted behind them, setting his teeth on edge. Anuhea nudged his elbow.

  “They’ll be okay,” she said, sensing his reluctance.

  Ben frowned. He trusted they could hold out. He knew that Oliver needed him now more than ever, so he pushed on through the hedges in the backyard to reach the fence. After listening for a moment, Ben pulled himself up to peer over the top. The next backyard appeared to be empty. He climbed over and took a knee. With his rifle raised, he scanned for the enemy as he waited for…

  Anuhea dropped beside him with a light thump, landing in a crouch.

  Like a damned ninja.

  Mark had retreated that way with Oliver. As if he was in full blown Liam Neeson mode, Ben vowed to himself that he would find and kill Mark. Tense, hushed voices could be heard coming from the front of the house. Footsteps slapped the pavement and a man shouted but his words were cut off by the sound of gunfire in the distance.

  Ben glanced at Anuhea and could tell she heard them too. They crept forward with their barrels raised, ready to fire. Hoping against all hope that Oliver would be just around the corner.

  A gust of wind whipped by and it smelled of burnt wood and damp leaves. When it died down, they heard low moaning. The telltale chorus of the dead.

  Anuhea cursed softly.

  Ben’s lips pressed together in a tight line. They had to move. A flash of movement on his left caught his eye. He bumped Anuhea’s shoulder, pointed in the direction of the movement, and then rushed towards the back of the house. Several more shadows coalesced into human shapes running down the street.