by Tim Moon
Ben rushed out to get a clear line of sight. He tracked the shadows in the ambient glow of the fires raging behind them. Mark and the fleeing men crossed the street with Oliver and ran through another backyard. Ben realized that their chase had taken them beyond the safety of the wall. A sense of unease settled over him.
The attackers must have realized that too because they were now being hemmed in by a mass of infected. With all the noise, it was inevitable. Anuhea muttered a curse. Ben felt the same, as a tremor of fear shot through him. The attackers were now caught between the infected and two people. It didn’t take a genius to figure out which way they would choose to escape.
At least, that’s what Ben thought; except, they didn’t charge them. The man holding Oliver dashed for the nearest house. His men followed, firing off a few shots that forced Ben and Anuhea to take cover. Ben dove to the ground and rolled until he came to a cluster of bushes. They wouldn’t stop bullets, yet they somehow gave him comfort. Ben rose to a knee to see which house they had entered. Mark turned back and caught Ben’s eye. They stared at each other for a moment before Mark continued his escape.
That motherfucker is gonna pay.
Ben felt a tug on his jacket.
“What?” he snapped.
“Take cover,” she yelled at him.
Two men in the street, stopped running and turned to fire wild bursts in their direction. Ben flattened out as if trying to become one with the damp lawn. The cold water soaked into his pants. Infected staggered down the street from both ends of the block in slow-motion pursuit.
“Oliver!” Ben yelled. “We’re coming for you!”
Anuhea shot one of the men in the road. He collapsed, screaming and clutching at his ruined leg.
The boy was so close it drove Ben mad. Fire seethed inside him at Mark’s betrayal. Their trap had worked so well, so easily. How had they known Ben would show up at SportsMart?
Ben scrambled out from under Anuhea and took aim at the last few men as they ran up the stairs into the house across the street. His first wild shot missed. The next was low and hit a man in the calf. He collapsed on the stairs, screaming. His howls eliciting a chorus of moans from the infected closing in. The guy in the doorway stopped and turned to glance at his friend.
Ben let out a breath and squeezed the trigger. The round punched the man in the chest causing his shoulder to jerk back a little. He looked down in shock as his knees gave out and he crumpled onto the porch.
Infected continued to close in from either side of the street and a few emerged from in between houses. They had to follow the men into the house to save Oliver. Piercing shrieks that heralded the approach of sprinters echoed down the block. A chill ran down Ben’s neck.
“Let’s move,” Ben said, glancing at his friend.
“I’m with you,” Anuhea said.
Ben pressed his lips together in a tight line. Then he took a deep breath and sprinted across the street.
The man on the stairs continued to moan in pain. He didn’t even try to resist. Ben grabbed his weapon and threw it to the side and then stomped on his injured leg. His ankle made a sharp crack. He would play the role of decoy, drawing in and distracting the infected. The sprinters howled again with even more urgency.
“Leave him,” Ben said when he saw Anuhea behind him.
The door was propped open by the body of the man he’d shot in the chest. He sat in the doorway with his head down, as if contemplating the stain on his chest. Ben knew he was dead. More fodder for the undead.
Stepping over, Ben glanced into the darkened interior. His own pulse thudded in his ears. He leaned back so he didn’t get shot in the head and strained for any sound or hint where the others were hiding. To the best of his knowledge, there were still at least four men. One of which was Mark.
Bad odds in tight quarters, Ben thought nervously. He wiped sweat from his upper lip and tried to slow his breathing.
Anuhea peered through the front window, carefully scanning inside. She looked over at him and nodded. He knew that meant the living room was clear. He hoped their practice clearing houses would pay off and they wouldn’t be torn apart in the kill zone.
Stepping through the door felt like stepping into an alternate reality. His senses seemed to pick up every sound, every wisp of air brushing his skin, and every miniscule movement. His breathing billowed loud and fast in his ears and he gripped his rifle as his life depended on it.
The living room was clear, so they crept further inside.
Ben stopped at a corner and leaned slowly forward to peer into the hall. It was so dark he couldn’t tell what was down there. Instinct told him that’s where the others were. The kitchen and dining room were to his right, so he went that way first. No sense strolling down a narrow hall if someone could ambush you from behind.
Anuhea motioned the other way, indicating she would go through the living room to reach the kitchen from the other side. With a nod, Ben started forward. The dining room was modestly appointed with a worn oak table and matching chairs. He crouched low to check under the table.
A grunt and a yelp came from the kitchen. Ben stood and lunged toward the doorway to the other room so quickly that he bumped into a chair and nearly fell. He could hear Anuhea struggling with someone. A single pop of gunfire made his stomach clench.
Rushing into the room, Ben saw a large form kneeling on top another like a mixed-martial arts fighter. The body was far too large to be Anuhea, so he aimed high and shot. The sound was painfully loud in the small tiled room but not nearly as painful as a .223 round through the torso. The attacker grunted and arched backwards. Ben was about to call out for Anuhea when a flash of metal was followed by a gurgling sound from the knife she buried in the man’s throat.
Anuhea shoved the man’s body off to the side and scrambled to her feet, gasping for air.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
Anuhea rubbed her throat and coughed but managed a nod. She jabbed her finger towards the hallway and lumbered after him.
Ben stepped back into the dining room and a shit-storm of lead burst from the hallway. Muzzle flashes gave him a brief glimpse of the shooter as he flinched away. The rounds punched through the wall beside him. He stumbled back, retreating to the kitchen under a steady hail of bullets. Rounds smashed into cupboards, shattered a window, and somehow made the refrigerator door pop open, unleashing the hellish stench of rotten food.
The onslaught died away as screams on the porch, followed by the wet slurp of the dead feasting, marked the arrival of the first infected. Ben could hear their footsteps pounding on the stairs and the porch. Then they began to claw and bang at the front door. Now, the only escape was through the back door. Ben gritted his teeth. He wasn’t leaving without Oliver.
“Give me the boy!” Ben shouted.
“Fuck you,” one of them hollered back.
“Ben!” Oliver yelped with hope in his voice before he was muffled.
Anuhea crept into the living room and squeezed off a few rounds.
“Careful,” Ben said.
She turned a powerful stink eye on him. The message was clear: no words of warning were necessary. He knew she understood the risk. It had been an instinctual warning.
Ben looked around the kitchen and spotted the back door. He let out a sigh. The enemy was trapped in the house with them. They held a hostage while Ben and Anuhea effectively blocked their escape from the house.
“How many of them are left?” Ben whispered.
“Three maybe?” Anuhea shrugged. “What’s the plan?”
Ben clenched his teeth. He wasn’t sure exactly what to do. “We’re between them and the only exit not blocked by the infected.”
“Not much we can do. Either attack or wait for them outside.”
A shotgun boomed in the tight space and punched a hole through the wall nearby. Dust and bits of drywall and wood peppered Ben and Anuhea as they knelt on the floor. The enemy decided for them. Footsteps thumped through the dining
room. Anuhea raised her rifle and fired at an upward angle. A man grunted and crashed into table and chairs.
Rounds slammed into the edge of the cabinets that Anuhea leaned against. She flung herself towards Ben who inched to the doorway to the living room. He grabbed Anuhea’s hand and pulled her to him.
Another man charged through the living room, coming around to flank them from the other side. He fired wildly into the kitchen, missing them by feet. The thumping on the front door intensified and the groans of the undead grew louder. Screams of the runners cut through the noise and made the hair on Ben’s neck tingle.
Anuhea charged at the man she’d shot to finish him off. Not wanting to be flanked, Ben scrambled away from the cabinets and swung his rifle towards the living room. The tile floor was covered in splinters of wood and bits of cheap countertop.
Ben took two shots, forcing the man to dive to the side and take cover against the wall. One of the shots had gone wide and exploded the front window. Howling infected began to push through the gaping hole, unconcerned that shards of glass slashed them as they fought to get inside. Ben squeezed the trigger again, but it clicked dry and he noticed that the bolt had locked back. He was out of ammo.
Scrambling to reload, Ben slid back. He slammed the refrigerator door shut, leaning against it as he pulled a new magazine out. He peeked around the corner of the fridge and his mouth went dry. Infected were already flopping over the window sill. As he watched, three stood and reached towards the man in the living room. The man roared in fear and shot two of them, apparently forgetting Ben was somewhere behind him. More zombies tumbled inside, shoving their way through the shattered window without an ounce of grace.
“Infected are coming in,” Ben said to Anuhea as he slammed a loaded mag into the magazine well. He pressed the bolt release and turned to see what Anuhea was doing.
“Don’t fucking move,” a man said, glowering down at Ben. He held a hefty pistol aimed at Anuhea’s head in one hand and a rope that was tied to Oliver’s hands in the other. Rage lit Ben’s eyes at the sight of Oliver with a pillow case over his head. From the muffled crying, Ben figured that his mouth must have been taped shut too.
Ben froze.
He wanted to fight, but the man had the drop on him and controlled the lives of two people he cared about. The man in the living room backed against the wall near Ben, fighting his own hellish war against the infected swarming through the shattered window. From the sound of it, the front door wouldn’t hold much longer either.
“We have to go, Nick,” the man shouted. He backed into the kitchen, panting and risking a glance to survey the scene. A wolfish grin spread across his unshaven face. “We got ‘em.”
The man with the pistol glared at his lackey with disdain. “You didn’t do shit. I got ‘em.” He sneered at the other man. “Shut your fucking mouth and watch the front.”
He pressed the pistol against Anuhea’s head causing her to grimace. Ben met his glower with one of his own, despite being nearly helpless on the floor. They stared at each other for several long seconds while shots rang out in the living room.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ben saw Anuhea inching one hand down to her waist. He forced himself not to look and give her away. The furrow of his brows deepened, and he sneered at the man. He had to distract him.
“What the fuck do you want, man?”
“Drop your weapon or I’ll shoot this bitch.”
With a sneer of disdain, Ben flung his rifle aside. It hit the cabinet with a loud thump, masking the sound of Anuhea’s movement. He shifted to a kneeling position to keep the man’s eyes on him. He pressed the pistol against Anuhea’s head again but didn’t look down.
“So, now what?” Ben asked slowly.
“We’ll take down your friends…”
“Why?”
The man continued as if Ben hadn’t interrupted.
“…Using the three of you as bait,” the man said, patting Oliver’s covered head. “Then I’ll make you watch as I kill each of them before leaving you tied to a tree for the infected to gnaw on.”
The calm, icy tone sent a shiver down Ben’s spine. There was no doubt in his mind that this man would do it. Mustering as much courage and defiance as he could, Ben rolled his eyes and snorted derisively. He hoped the defiance looked more convincing than it felt.
“That’s rather specific,” Ben said with a slow shake of his head. He glanced down at the floor and saw that Anuhea had her knife in hand. “But I don’t think so.”
He lunged forward. As he hoped, the sudden movement made the man flinch, take a half-step back and start to raise the pistol towards him. Anuhea swung her arms around. One batted aside his gun while the other thrust the knife blade deep into his thigh. She didn’t stop there though.
Ben dove for his rifle while Anuhea stood over the man. She shoved him back and plunged the blade into his side, over and over again. His body went rigid and his face twisted in a rictus of pain. The pistol and the rope tied to Oliver fell to the ground, forgotten in a rush of agony. Anuhea twisted and pulled out the knife, watching a dark stain spread on the man’s clothes.
She leaned back from him and stared at her hands as though confused by what she’d done. Nick lashed out with his foot and knocked the knife free of her hands. It spun away and hit the floor. The man just wouldn’t die. He reached out for Anuhea and pulled her close. She socked him right on the nose, but it didn’t loosen his grip.
“We gotta go, Nick. The breach is too much,” the other man shouted.
Startled, Ben raised his rifle and spun towards the man he thought was behind him. He wasn’t in the kitchen though. Instead, the guy was still in the living room trying to hold off the infected as he’d been ordered to. It wasn’t going well. One of the undead had a firm grip on his rifle; they wrestled for control of it even as he kept firing. More infected climbed in through the window. At least a half dozen infected were closing in around the man.
“Hey, fuck face,” Ben shouted, raising his rifle.
The man flailed wildly to free himself enough to risk a glance over his shoulder. His scowl quickly transformed into a wide-eyed look of surprise, and then anguish as a hand reached up and clawed at his face. Hungry mouths latched onto his arms and the rifle fell from his grip. Ben shot him once in the gut and left him for the infected. His screams would give them time to escape.
Perhaps a dozen infected filled the living room. Most were focused on the dying man, but several zombies walked past him, eager to catch Ben. His first shot clipped one in the shoulder. It stumbled and was pushed aside by the others. As it fell, the infected managed to reach out and trip Ben. His back hit the edge of the doorframe, knocking his rifle out of line. Ben’s shot harmlessly went into the floor and the other infected bastards kept pressing forward. Ben back-pedaled until he ran into the kitchen counter where two of them tried to lunge for him at the same time. He was still off balance, unable to shoot. Luckily, two bodies couldn’t fit through the doorway at the same time. They became wedged in the tight space like the world’s ugliest clowns. Ben smirked as they flailed their hands wildly trying to reach him.
Turning away, Ben hoped the two idiots wouldn’t accidentally squeeze through. They created a nice barrier to hold back the small horde behind them. When he turned to face the dining area, Ben saw a rotund woman trudging towards them from the other direction. He snapped his rifle up, let out a steadying breath and shot her twice in the head. Her substantial mass collapsed like a castle gate, slowing any infected that were sure to follow in her wake.
Returning to Anuhea, Ben noticed the man called Nick moaning on the floor. Anuhea was hurriedly trying to cut Oliver free. When the zip tie came free, she dropped the bloody knife and focused on untying the pillowcase over Oliver’s head. Anuhea’s hands were bloodied and shaking, but she remained focused. Ben did a double-take from Nick to Anuhea and then strode over to Nick.
“Where’s Mark, you sonofabitch?” Ben asked, pressing the rifle barrel aga
inst his forehead.
Nick moaned.
“Ben, we have to go,” Anuhea said. “There’s no time.”
As if to punctuate the point, two infected entered the hall from the living room. They’d found a way around the two clowns. Ben cursed but easily shot each one in the head. Several more were close behind. Ben continued shooting. The noise just egged them on. Realizing it was pointless to keep fighting, he turned to Anuhea.
“Fine. Let’s go,” Ben said.
Anuhea lifted Oliver into her arms, stroking his head and talking to him in a gentle voice. Ben opened the backdoor and she rushed outside. He followed her out and not a moment too soon as the infected surged en masse into the hallway and tripped over their fallen comrades. Ben smirked as he shut the door.
Adios, fuckers.
“That was too close for comfort,” he said.
“No kidding,” Anuhea said.
“Oliver, you okay buddy?”
The boy clung to Anuhea but managed to nod his head.
Anuhea looked around. “Which way should we go?”
“Go over the back fence and then we’ll circle around,” Ben said.
The back door burst open and Ben nearly slipped on the wet grass when he spun around. Nick staggered out. Blood dripped off his jacket from the stab wounds. One arm was held close to his chest, as if he’d been bitten, and he was trying to pull away from the greedy hands that refused to let him go. Nick’s pained moan grew to a growl and he lunged forward with a mighty effort.
“Please,” Nick wailed when he failed to break free. He slipped to one knee and stared at him. Ben men his gaze and their eyes locked.
“Don’t let them take me,” he pleaded.
Ben could hardly believe it. Was this motherfucker asking for mercy after what he did? His face screwed up in angry disbelief.
Oliver cries of terror were muffled in the crook of Anuhea’s neck. Ben glanced back to see the boy clutching her tightly as if the cold wind might blow him away forever. They may not be blood, but there was no way in hell he was going to help the man that had threatened his boy.