From the Ashes

by Chris Kennedy

  She stops me halfway by holding her hand up. “I’ll walk, if you don’t mind.”

  She starts to walk off without saying anything more. Watching her leave, I’m reminded of the lengths good people will go to for the ones they love.

  * * *

  5

  Stacey has walked at a relatively brisk pace for most of the night, considering she has no shoes on. I’ve offered to carry her a couple of times, but she refused.

  Our venture through the woods has been uneventful. There have been no signs of people lurking in the depths of the darkness—no snapping branches or ghostly silhouettes shuffling about. I remain vigilant, looking from left to right, scrutinizing every nearby sound.

  We trudge through the woods a bit longer before emerging. I place my hand on Stacey’s shoulder. “Hold up for a second.”

  She turns and looks at me. “What’s wrong?”

  It’s still dark, and hard to see far ahead, but my enhanced vision allows me to get a better sense of our surroundings. There’s a road a few paces in front of us. I look left, then right, searching for travelers.

  “Nothing. Just making sure everything’s clear. You can never tell who might be out here, milling about.”

  Call me paranoid, but being cautious is what has kept me alive all these years. One should avoid trouble if at all possible. But, this time, I couldn’t turn away. Not from Stacey.

  Stacey points at the woods on the other side of the road. “Lansdale is just up this road and through the trees. We’re not too far away.”

  I scratch a festering sore on the right side of my chin. My thick, coarse beard has been irritating my skin for some time, and the heat hasn’t helped any.

  “We need to stay as quiet as possible, the closer we get. Don’t go running off or making any sudden noises. Most importantly, do whatever I tell you to do, and do it without question, ok?”

  She nods.

  “Good.”

  We continue on through the ditch and up the slight embankment to the road. It’s covered in leaves and other debris. When we reach the blacktop, we head for the town. I check over my shoulder to make sure we aren’t being followed. There’s no one there, just the grim silence and darkness of night lingering all around.

  Our trek along the desolate road is relatively brief before she veers off into the ditch and makes for the trees. I stay glued to her side as we enter the woods once more.

  “The town isn’t much farther. I figure it might be better to go this way, so we’ll end up on the back side of the town,” Stacey advises.

  Good thinking.

  Through the trees, I spot the vague shapes of some small buildings. There’s some light coming from the interior of the structures—a beacon in the ether of blackness.

  I take point and move Stacey behind me. She does it without question. Slowly and methodically, we work our way to the edge of the town and stop. We squat down behind a fallen tree, and I scan the area.

  There are several tiny homes lining the town’s outer perimeter, and we can see flickering lights through the dingy glass windows.

  From where we are, I can’t get a good idea of what I’m facing, as the small houses are blocking my view of the rest of the town.

  “Do you ever play in these woods?” I ask.

  “Yeah. Me and my friend, Jenny, play hide-and-seek sometimes. She hates it when I hide, ‘cause she can never find me. I generally win.”

  Perfect.

  I turn toward her.

  “We’re going to play a game of hide-and-seek. You’re going to go to your favorite place and hide. Wait there until I come and find you, ok?”

  She nods. “What happens if you don’t come?”

  “I will find you. Don’t worry about that. Now go.”

  Stacey stands up and turns to her left. She takes a few steps before stopping. She comes back to me and gives me a hug. “Please save my family, Cal.” She doesn’t look back as she disappears into the darkness. The sound of her footsteps quickly dies away.

  Time to go to work.

  I remove the knife from its sheath and stand up. I flip it around in the palm of my hand. Low to the ground, I move swiftly through the woods, until I’m out in the open.

  I take refuge behind a shabby house and peer around the corner. I don’t spot anyone, at first, but as I listen closely, I can hear the subtle banter of multiple people close by.

  I slither along the wall, keeping my back glued to the building and raising my knife. I stop in the shadows and scan the town’s sprawling grounds, searching for the cannibals and the Geno Freak.

  From what Stacey said, all of the town’s people had been taken to the town hall, which is located in the center of town. From my vantage point, I can see a cluster of buildings that stretch out into the distance. I can’t tell which one is the right building.

  I start to move, but the sound of approaching footsteps stops me. I drift further back into the shadows as the voices of two men come closer.

  I wait patiently, listening to them ramble on about nothing in particular as they come into view. Their bodies are mostly hidden in the shadows, while their faces are illuminated by the warm glow of a lantern clutched in someone’s hand.

  I rap my fingers on the house’s wooden exterior. They stop and look my way.

  “Did you hear that?” the man holding the lantern asks.

  “Yeah. Could be an animal or something scurrying about. We are surrounded by woods,” the other man responds.

  “True, but what if it’s one of the people we missed? We don’t want anyone out here, milling about and causing problems.”

  The man shakes his head in frustration. “You are so damn paranoid. We got everybody except for the little girl that ran off. Two of our men are tracking her down as we speak. I imagine they’ll be bringing her back anytime now.”

  “How much longer do we have to patrol?” the man with the lantern asks. “We’ve been out here all damn night. I’m tired and starving.”

  “Too long, if you ask me,” the other man responds. “I’m not going to say shit, though. That Geno Freak will literally rip us in half with his bare hands if we bitch and complain. Damn thing gives me the creeps. Looks like a giant lizard or whatever the hell he was spliced with. Still, joining up with him was good; nobody has been dumb enough to mess with us.”

  The man holding the lantern sweeps his arm from left to right as he cranes his neck to look around.

  I move along the wall toward the rear of the house, creating some noise that will draw their attention back to me. I stand ready near the corner.

  “Shit. You heard that, right?” he asks.

  His partner nods. “Yeah. I bet its that little girl coming back to mommy and daddy. Let’s grab her real quick and stick her with the others.”

  Here they come.

  * * *

  6

  I wait patiently, like a predator anxiously waits for its prey. I’m poised to strike quickly. I have my knife up and ready.

  Side by side, the two men venture down the opening between the two houses. The man continues to sweep his lantern from left to right, illuminating the grassy area as they search for the source of the sound. They have knives clutched in their hands but no guns that I can see.

  They’re getting closer. Their musty, fetid stench fills my nose. I reposition my fingers over the handle of the blade. They suddenly stop and turn around, exposing their backs to me. Time to strike.

  “What was that?” the man with the lantern mutters.

  “I don’t know, but you need to—”

  I toss my blade, and it lodges deep in the base of the man’s skull. His body locks up, and he crumples to his knees as his partner spins around. I’m waiting for him as he brings his knife up to stab me in the gut.

  He’s slow, or perhaps, I’m quicker. I grab his forearm and knock the knife from his hand. I strike him in the windpipe, hard and direct. He stumbles backward against the house, grabbing for his throat.

  I pull th
e blade from the dead man’s skull. The other man tries to flee, but I throw my blade into the side of the house in front of him. He stops cold.

  “Hold on there, friend. I’ve got a few questions to ask you.” I grab him by the collar of the jacket he’s wearing and slam him against the wall as he struggles to speak. At least he won’t be able to scream.

  “Who are you?” he asks, his voice rough and raspy.

  “Doesn’t matter who I am. The only thing that matters is what you tell me, and how badly I’m going to hurt you to get what I want. The more you give, the less I hurt you. You get me?”

  He nods.

  “Good. How many of you are in the town? Don’t bullshit me, now.”

  He swallows his fear. “Six, including us,” he retorts. “But we’ve got more coming.”

  “You mean the two who went after the little girl? I don’t think they’ll be coming back.”

  He looks at me with glassy eyes.

  “Where are the others and that Geno Freak?”

  He stares at me.

  I place the palm of my hand over his mouth and lean forward. I reach down and grab his fingers. I break one, nice and clean. He tries to scream through the palm I’m using to muffle his agony. He thrashes his head from side to side, trying to remove my hand.

  “Let’s try this again. Where are they?” I lower my hand slightly.

  He pants; his chest bulges in and out. “They’re at the town hall. Main building at the other end of town. We’re taking turns patrolling the town’s perimeter.”

  “You’re not lying to me, are you?” I ask.

  “Shit, man, no,” the man says.

  “Good.” I punch him squarely in the face. The back of his head bounces off the house, and he falls to the ground in an unconscious heap.

  I grab the handle of my knife and yank it free from the wooden exterior of the house. I hurry to the front of the structure, then I glance to my right in the direction of the larger buildings. That’s where I need to go.

  I slip out and race across the matted grass. My feet pound the ground that morphs to asphalt. I dart across the street and make a beeline for the cluster of brick buildings. I stop, keeping my back flush against the wall, and listen for any sounds that may indicate a threat.

  I hear nothing but the wind blowing.

  I stick to the shadows like a demon in the night and work my way toward the north end of the town. Some of the structures are lit with lanterns attached onto their fronts. So far, I haven’t encountered any other men patrolling. From what I was told, I’m left with five possible targets, who are presumably at the town hall.

  The shuffling of boots through the grass up ahead catches my attention. I step to my left and press my body against a portion of the brick wall that protrudes from the building. I lean forward, peering around the edge, and spot a figure heading this way.

  The bearded man ignites a match, illuminating his dingy face as he lights the end of a cigarette. The tip glows. He flicks his wrist, extinguishing the match, before discarding it on the ground.

  He draws on the cigarette and turns toward the street. He swings his head from left to right, and a hint of smoke from his cigarette rises into the air.

  I emerge from the shadows and sneak up behind him. He raises his right hand and pulls the cigarette from his lips. I reach around and place my palm over his mouth, pulling him back toward me. I reach over his right shoulder with my knife and bury the blade in his chest.

  His pained screams are muffled as he squirms and tries to break free, but it’s all for naught. He goes limp, the full brunt of his bulk leaning against me.

  I pull the blade free and drag him toward the nearest building where I gently lay his body along the foundation, allowing the shadows to swallow him. Three down, four to go.

  I remain glued to the rigid façade of the building as I slither toward the front. Light gleams from a window directly above me. I pause briefly and look up. The window is cracked open, and I can hear chatter from inside the building—numerous voices speaking in whispers. Subtle cries filter out into the night. This has to be the place.

  I continue toward the front of the building, and when I come to the edge, I pause. I peer around the corner and glance up at the concrete landing that is just beyond the stairs to my right. I spot a man standing in front of an open door. His gaze is fixed on the houses and other buildings before him. He stands there, looking from left to right, before he heads this way.

  Damn it.

  I lower myself into the darkness and wait patiently. I can hear each step he takes. He comes to the edge of the landing and stops right above me. He leans forward and rests both of his hands on the white railing before him. I spring up and grab his ankles, yanking his legs out from under him. He falls backward and lands with a thud. I yank him toward me, pulling him into the grass. Before he has a chance to realize what’s happening, I drive the tip of my knife through the middle of his skull.

  I pull the knife free. Standing back up, I listen for footsteps, but I hear nothing more than subtle chatter coming from the building. I pull myself up onto the landing and press my shoulder to the wall, then I quietly make my way to the open door and pause. I peer inside and see another set of double doors.

  Beyond the glass panes, I spot the town’s inhabitants huddled together. Heavy eyes and trembling lips are evidence of the fear and somber mood of the group. Tears stream down their faces. They look lost and hopeless, as if they are waiting to die.

  I slip inside the entryway and move to the right of the doors. The door to my right is cracked open. I cautiously look through the window and scan the spacious room for more cannibals. I don’t see any.

  A little boy, perhaps eight or so, sitting with his parents on the floor, glances up and spots me. I place my finger over my lips to keep him silent. His eyes cut to the left and linger for a moment, before they come back to me. There must be a cannibal to the left of the door.

  A gruff voice suddenly fills the room. I stop and listen.

  “What are you pointing at?” the voice demands of the little boy who is whispering to his dad and pointing his finger in my direction.

  Fuck.

  “He isn’t pointing at anything in particular,” the man quickly responds, shielding his son. The boy sinks further into his father’s side. His lips are quivering, and his eyes are watering. “He has an imaginary friend he plays with. That’s all.”

  The man approaches the father and son. He towers over them like a giant. He’s as wide as a tree and, from the looks of it, packed with a shitload of muscle. He reaches for the pistol holstered on his hip with his baseball-glove-sized hand. “Bullshit. What was he pointing at?”

  The man peers over his shoulder in the direction of the double doors. He looks intently, moving his head about slightly, searching for the cause of the boy’s actions.

  I duck down, vanishing from sight.

  “Please. He didn’t see anyone,” a woman’s voice pleads.

  “Sit down!” the man orders in a hoarse growl.

  I hear a yelp followed by a man’s voice calling out her name. “Debbie!”

  I throw caution to the wind and burst inside. I stay low and slash with my blade at the towering man’s Achilles heel. The razor-sharp edge slices through his pants and leg. He yelps in pain, but he doesn’t go down.

  Perhaps I missed.

  He swings his thick arm at me. I switch the knife from my right hand to my left as I sidestep the strike. I slash across his mid-section, opening up his stomach. The unsteady, hulking brute tries to spin around, but his injured ankle keeps him from doing so. He falls to one knee as a grimace of pain washes over his face. He reaches for me, and I jam the tip of my knife down through his arm.

  Another loud yelp escapes his gaping mouth. Blood dribbles to the floor. I yank the knife free and slash his throat.

  A door in the back bursts open, revealing another cannibal standing in a stairwell. He yanks his pistol out and raises it. I sling my blade acr
oss the room. Deadly and accurate, it burrows into his forehead before he has a chance to open fire.

  “Is everyone ok?” I inquire.

  They nod.

  The wooden floor above us creaks loudly. Something with some mass is up there. The Geno Freak.

  I charge through the people to the rear of the room, where I retrieve my knife from the dead man’s head and fly up the stairs, three at a time. I hit the landing and find the large reptilian beast in the center of the room.

  The stout creature clenches its razor sharp teeth and swings its long, green tail to and fro. That’s new. Haven’t heard of a Geno Freak with a tail before. Must have had it graphed on or something.

  It growls intensely at me.

  Time to die.

  I grip the handle of the Glock and raise it. I charge the creature and unload the magazine. Fire comes from the barrel, and the harsh report echoes through the room. The bullets strike the creature in the chest and the left side of its neck. Blood sprays from the exit wounds. Its muscles flex, veins protruding all over. I think I just royally pissed it off.

  It steps to the side and whips its tail toward me. I leap over the incoming appendage and tumble end-over-end, then jump back to my feet and re-engage. I get in close and slash with my knife, opening up large gashes on its chest and stomach.

  The creature strikes me with the back of its large, clawed hand, sending me flying backward into the wall. My Stetson flies off my head, and the impact rattles my teeth and causes my vision to blur.

  Damn it.

  That thing packs a punch.

  My jaw hurts like it got struck with a sledgehammer. Feels like it might be dislocated.

  Blood drips to the floor from my nose. I shake my head, trying to recover from the blow. I ignore the pain and continue to fight.

  The creature charges and takes a swing at my head. I duck down. The tips of its nails dig into the drywall and rain debris on me. It turns to the right, presenting me with its green, scaly back. With the blade still clutched tightly in my hand, I jump on the beast.

  I bury my blade in the side of its neck. It roars in pain as it thrashes about, trying to shake me off. I hold on and continue stabbing it in the neck as it stumbles about.