The figure was crouching over the boy on all fours, sniffing at the blood on the kid's face and chest. It growled again, but when the kid didn't move, it leaned down and lapped at the blood.
Vic's gun was still sitting across the room, in the direct path of the hunter. But it was only a matter of time before the thing took a bite out of the easy kill.
The kid shivered at the feel of the hunter's tongue on his cheek and weakly tried to push it away, eliciting an ear-piercing bark from the thing. It growled menacingly and bunched its shoulders, baring its teeth and raising one clawed hand to attack the wounded human.
Victor wasted no time in throwing the pot at the zombie. He did waste a bit of time staring dumbly at his hand afterwards, wondering just exactly what is was he was on to think that he could survive the infected impending wrath.
The hunter let out a yelp and hissed, crawling over the boy and slowly approaching Vic, still scuttling on all fours like a dog. Victor backed against the counter, searching for another weapon, any weapon…His hand found the bottle of vodka.
"No…please…anything but the booze."
The Hunter rocked from side to side, preparing to pounce.
Victor heard himself sobbing as he slammed the bottle onto the counter, shattering the glass and wasting the precious fermented potato-nectar.
He brandished the bottle at the Hunter as it leaped. At the same time a burst of gunfire ripped the infected clothes. Vic's face was splattered with dark brown partially coagulated blood and the rotting flesh of the monster as it fell to the ground.
Kat stood in the doorway, face lit by a grin – or was she baring her teeth? The smoking muzzle of the gun was trained on Victor. "It bite ya?"
He shook his head no and she snorted. "Then get off yer ass and fix the kid."
A pack was thrown at his feet and as he stepped up to help the still-choking kid Kat disappeared into the hall again, bringing with her a few large pieces of furniture.
McKayla stood next to him, "I can help if you need me to."
He stared at the earnest face, eager to please, and eager to help and he smiled. "Okay then."
He leaned over the body and rifled through the pack, producing some malt-whiskey. Well…it was alcohol…Victor grabbed a kitchen knife, washed it in the alcohol and got to work.
McKayla joined Kat in barricading the door not a few moments later. Her face was pale, and her hands shook as she stabilized the dresser Kat was currently attempting to jam against the door.
"Too much for you?"
The girl nodded, lip quivering. "Do you think he's gonna die?"
Just then, brought closer to consciousness from the pain, the kid started screaming. The sound was garbled, and strangely bestial.
There was a thrashing sound behind them and Victor cursed. "I need someone to help me hold him down!"
The girl was shaking, so Kat stood to help the doctor. "He wasn't bitten was he?"
The doctor took a long time to answer, struggling to resume cutting into the boy's throat. Kat handed him a tube she'd cut off of a sink. Not the cleanest solution but she'd rinsed It out and now the doctor ran the whiskey through the tube before drying and prepping it to insert into the boy's windpipe.
He handed Kat a dishtowel, "Can you press down on his chest – Gently! Very gently! – while I…"
He trailed off, lost in thought. Kat pressed on the kid's chest, causing him to scream again.
Victor cursed, "He needs to stop that."
Kat slammed her fist on the side of the kid's head and he fell silent, all except the crackling sound of his labored breath.
The doctor regarded her with his grey eyes, and then shrugged, "One way to do it I guess."
He started cutting into the chest itself and McKayla retched at the sawing sound.
Kat shot her a dark look, "Don't puke."
McKayla cast a longing look to the freezer, "Can't I hide in there where I don't have to hear-"
The seal hissed, "You have to watch the door! They'll smell the blood soon."
The girl turned back to the fortifications, humming to herself.
The doctor was digging about in the boy's chest, and he grabbed a basting syringe from the pile of supplies he'd gathered from around the kitchen.
"This is so make-do." He chuckled.
Kat stared at the tall man, auburn hair falling into his eyes as he drew the air out of the chest cavity, clearing the area of blood and with a sudden gasp, inflating the kid's lung.
One rib had cracked and hit his lung, point still lodged in his organ, keeping the air pressure constant. Victor sighed and looked about for something to fix it with, while McKayla let out a whimper.
"Guys? I heard something on the other side…"
Kat looked at the doctor and he waved her away. "Go take care of it. I can do the rest."
As Kat picked up her weapon she heard him give a shaky sigh, "I hope."
McKayla was shoved aside as Kat came over to check the door, shifting some of the weight blocking it to peer outside. She huffed, but as usual the gruff woman ignored her.
"Excuse me, I think it's time you stopped treating me like I'm-"
Those dark brown eyes turned to hers, "Like you're baggage? Like you're in the way?"
McKayla felt her face heat up, "Like you hate me!"
Kat turned back to the door, "If I hated you, I would have left you where you were in the mall. You at most are a distraction."
McKayla felt her anger boiling over; she gritted her teeth and fought to keep her voice from squeaking as she hissed, "Well I can do things on my own! No need to think of me that way. I was my idea to come out here in the first place! Without me, you'd be-"
"I'd be safe at home in my ammo store, havin twice the rations and fewer qualms about something as superfluous as hygiene in an incredibly hostile scenario." Her dark eyes turned to the doctor, who seemed busy cramming stick after stick of gum into his mouth while fretting over the wheezing patient. "The kid would also be healthy, more or less safe in this slipshod hideout of his."
McKayla flinched, and balled her fists, "At least I did something! Now we have more numbers, more food, and aren't holed up in that stagnant hole you called an ammo store! You're personality is shit! No wonder you were alone before we met, and your brother-"
"Shit! Look at all this bl-blood! He's destabilizing!" The doctor held up bloodied hands and called, "I need some help over here!"
McKayla rushed over to the counter, argument forestalled. What she saw was the kid, sewn up nice and neat, and the doctor, hand horribly cut by his own knife, cleaning it with antiseptic.
He pointed to her with his filleted finger, "Hold the wrist down will you? This is gonna smart."
Kat hoisted her gun and slid through the barrier, "I'm going to patrol the area."
Victor started stitching his hand while McKayla held it still.
They sat in silence for a moment, broken only by the doctor's hisses and the boy's pained breathing.
"In times like these, every ally we can get is another day we live."
McKayla didn't answer; she lowered her eyes and focused on holding his wrist.
"If you feel like everyone thinks you're worthless, and then prove them wrong, don't argue."
She sighed, "But-"
The Doctor held up his newly stitched hand, "I'm not telling you this because I'm a caring man who hates to see friends fight. I'm saying this because if you keep arguing with her, eventually I'll be asked to pick a side."
He flexed his fingers and grunted his approval. "And I'll pick the one who will help me live the longest, not the girl still entertaining ideas of common human decency. That, miss, is a thing of the past."
McKayla bit her lip, "This isn't right."
He rifled through the cabinets, searching for food or alcohol, it wasn't really clear by all his muttering and grumblings. His fingers skittered over shelves and knocked against bottles of oil.
The boy started moaning, writhing and clutching at his chest.
She moved to his side, "Is he gonna be okay?"
Victor shrugged, but she wasn't looking at him, and it went unnoticed. "I gave him some antibiotics so it should heal. He shouldn't move for a few days though, shouldn't run or exert himself for a week at the least."
The boy's face was wretched with pain, and he tried lifting his hands to weakly claw at his stitches.
"Did you give him the pain pills we found?"
Victors reply was quick, and short, "Yes, of course I did."
She touched his face and found the skin burning to the touch. "Looks like he's got fever."
Victor returned to the boy's side and rifled through the bag of supplies. He produced some aspirin and fished out the antibiotics again. She watched him as he drew out the pills, which seemed to make him nervous.
"Watch the door, will you?"
She turned towards the door, but not after spying on him as he crushed the aspirin and blew the powder up the kid's nose and got to work on the antibiotic capsules.
She watched the door, frowning slightly.
Victor finished treating the kid and sat back, sighing. The two girls were already at each others throats, and he knew which one he'd back should they decide to split, or worse.
It wasn't fair, the girl was right, but he'd decided on the lives of others before in the hospital, and choosing life over poking the bad-tempered warrior with a sharp stick any day.
His jaw ached somewhat from all of the gum he'd frantically been chewing, and his hand ached from the cut to it.
It'd been…he wasn't really sure, actually whether it had been an accident or an overreaction to the tension between the two women. He'd…he'd just…
Slipped.
He growled and tugged at his short hair. No…no no. Not that word.
He'd lost it.
That was worse.
Victor had done what had only been sensible for about two seconds, and by then it had been too late to use his words.
Damn it, if he kept acting so crazy no one would trust him again. Calm down, keep it together, hold her steady, and think back on all you've learned. You can do that can't you Vic?
Just dont
Slip.
He flinched and hummed desperately to distract himself, and failed. He saw McKayla shooting him worried glances and he stammered, "It helps me think, sorry if I was bothering you...not that I'm assuming, I'd hate to assume...uh..."
You're Slipping.
"Just don't mind me, miss, he'll be right as pain, er, rain..."
The girl nodded in that reassuring way that people treated the insane and turned back to the door.
"Never good with words, were you, Vic?" He chuckled to himself, and as the hour passed he watched the boy slowly stir to life.
Kat strode out of the room, gun at ready, and eyes scanning for movement, any movement. Her finger squeezed the trigger softly, finding comfort in the weight of the weapon and its metal grips in her hands. Back when killing meant ending sentient life she'd been rather hesitant to fire at a living thing. She'd train and had ended many lives to preserve her own, but now her weapon was more of an extension of her arm. She didn't go anywhere without it readied, and she rarely felt the security to protest the treatment of her victims.
Victim wasn't the right word, really. Aggressors? What did that make all of those hobbling zombies she'd left behind? Pre-emptive strikes were a difficult category…and even then she'd shot them out of entertainment.
A sob interrupted her thoughts and Kat froze, waiting for it to come again, so that she could pinpoint the source.
Damn, it was dark, but she didn't dare turn on her flashlight.
The sob came again, followed by a moan, and she saw a pale figure stumbling towards the reception area, hands over her bloodied face.
Kat knew better than to try to help the woman, but this situation left her dumbfounded. An infected? Crying? What…?
She followed, at first, hesitantly, and then she realized the white-haired zombie didn't react too much, and as long as she was quiet she could follow at her leisure.
It was a rather careless type of zombie, in her opinion. Perhaps it's a new special.
She wasn't impressed.
Many of the women joining the navy didn't cry, and if they did, they either dropped out of boot camp or stopped crying. Being so consumed with whatever was making this infected cry was sloppy, and she theorized that it was an easy kill.
Those enormous claws the thing had worried her though, and she followed at a safe distance, worried more and more about the empty streets as she walked out of the hotel and back towards the gun shop.
The zombie didn't like bright lights, and stuck to the shadows, moaning and crying, and occasionally singing.
Kat trained her rifle on the infected as she followed it back to the square, ready to shoot it the second the thing tried to attack, or when she got bored, whichever.
But...she couldn't drop the suspicion that the zombie was…talking. She couldn't make out the words…but every few choked sobs the thing would say something…or she thought so.
They were almost back to the gun store when she heard gunfire in the mechanics garage down the street.
The pale infected walked to an alleyway and sat down, still sobbing quietly to herself, and speaking more of those almost-words.
Kat retreated across the street and hid herself in one of the abandoned trucks. When she'd first evacuated her garage in favor of the gun store she'd seen some supplies in the truck, and shot out the window to get it.
The alarm went off and she hadn't been able to leave the store for days due to all of the infected swarming everywhere. Eventually the battery died, though, and the vehicle had gone silent.
Kat jumped in the bed in back and crouched down out of sight, peering over the side towards the garage.
Survivors.
She felt a flash of incredulity. This was too good to be true. Four more survivors, totaling 6 more people in this lifeless city in one day. This made her wary, but she couldn't simply approach them, so she watched from afar.
They'd tried raiding the garage for supplies, and failed. She'd already cleaned the place out. No doubt they'd go to the gun store next, similarly gutted of anything of use.
McKayla had suggested that they leave stuff behind just in case there were more survivors but Kat had been quick to point out how stupid that idea was.
It was still a stupid idea, even considering that there were more survivors.
She watched as they explored the gun store, and eventually exited back into the street.
All of the infected seemed to be going to them, rather than bother with her own group in the hotel. For that, Kat was grateful, even if the group appeared to be rather ragged.
One man wielding a shotgun started up the street towards her, and towards the strange white infected.
Once he was closer, she risked standing up to wave at them. Immediately a bullet zoomed past her head and Kat suppressed the urge to scream at them.
Instead she raised her gun in the air, pointed up, and waved again.
The group noticed her and approached closer, weapons at ready.
"Hey, watch out, there is a weird one over there." She pointed to the alley.
The man with the shotgun crept close to examine it while the other three eyed her suspiciously.
"You three need a safe place to stay?"
The woman in the pink jacket nodded. Their silence was irking her, but she continued, "That gun store is pretty well defended, but no supplies."
Kat tracked the man as he crept closer, and as he stepped in line with the alleyway she heard a panic-inducing growl. With a shriek, a hunter leapt from the rooftop and slammed into the man's back, driving him to the ground, and causing the white infected to emit a shriek.
She got up and the hunter leaped away, leaving the survivors to face her wrath alone.
Kat ducked back into the truck bed, watching with wide eyes as she slashed the man open with frightening speed, before she could aim at the thing it sprinted to the remaining three and began attacking them. Gunfire spattered about, but she heard another of the survivors shriek in pain as they were ripped asunder y those horrifying claws.
She aimed the gun over the side of the truck and fired…well…she tried to…
The infected screamed again and she was reminded of the shriek of mortars, the screams of disembodied men as their boat, as their lifeboats were torn apart by bullets. The men swimming for shore hadn't screamed.
They'd gurgled as the ocean swallowed them whole.
She was staring at the woman in the jacket. Her chest was torn open, and she burbled weakly, blood not oozing, but sloshing from between her lips. Her chest was oddly flat; the lungs themselves compressed under all of the blood and mulched viscera.
Kat spotted the infected mauling one of the others, the last man standing shooting frantically at the woman with a pistol, his other weapon spent and useless.
The infected turned her attention to the only ambulatory survivor remaining. Kat fired off a round at the woman, finally, and focused on the bitch's head.
The infected finished killing the other man and turned to glare at Kat. Kat again heard the tearing of metal as the ship was torn apart by gunfire and explosives. The screams of those falling into the water or clinging to the sinking ship…
She fired as the infected ran towards her, and finally, blessedly, the infected crumpled.
Kat kept firing, the roar of planes and the rush of cold, pacific water coming up to meet her. Her limbs were heavy, she couldn't swim…
The weapon in her hands clicked emptily. The body of the infected was obliterated, bullets having torn her into pieces.
Kat took a shaky breath, and calmed the fuck down. She tried to, at least.
There were threats, and this new infected, of which she hadn't seen before, was worrisome. Maybe one of the others had seen it before.
Kat got to work, face grim, and the sounds of ocean waves haunting her as she walked towards the carnage lining the desolate street.
Kat being gone for all this time worried him, but he hadn't heard gunshots, or any activity from the infected, actually. He wondered whether or not that was a good thing. The other girl, the smaller brunette was getting worried; he could see her fidgeting from here.
"Victor."
He jumped, startled, and spotted the boy, still pretty out of it, talking to him.
Calling your name.
Vic's hands shook as he fished a bottle out of his pocket and took two of the pills from it, swallowing them dry as he regarded the boy.
He tried convincing himself that the kid had merely heard his name called by one of the girls. He failed.
Vic decided to believe that false-truth anyway.
But inside he cringed whenever the kid said it.
"Yes, hello, how are you feeling? What's your name?"
The kid's eyes rolled around in his head rather drunkenly, the antibiotics and pain pills still addling his brains.
"Victor."
Vic sighed, "Yes that's my name, what's yours?"
The kid looked extremely confused, but before he could speak more the woman burst through the barriers. She looked fine but there was a harried look in her eyes. A pack was slung over her back, bustling with more supplies.
Vic stared at the bag, "Where did you…?"
She spoke, voice grave, "There were other survivors."
The finality in her tone made the room fall silent. Victor leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "What happened?"
Kat told them.
Vic fumbled at his pocket, fingers searching for cigarettes which were no longer there. He felt the craving eating away at his stomach. "That was a witch."
McKayla looked, wide eyed at him, "You've seen one? I mean, we've only seen hunters and tanks, and smokers…and this weird cackling thing…"
Vic nodded, "Witches are rare. They cry and don't really bother people until a loud noise or bright light startles them. They slaughter anyone around…"
He realized his fingers were drumming on the table, and he folded his hands in his lap.
Kat shook herself, and muttered, "Sunset is approaching, and I have work to do on our doorways." She got up and robotically got to work stacking blockades at the doors.
McKay wrapped her arms around herself and approached the increasingly conscious kid.
"You said there was food here?"
He stared at her for a moment, then nodded, "In the freezer and pantry." His arm wobbled as he pointed in no particular direction. "What happened?"
Victor stood and felt the kid's forehead. No fever. Thank god.
"You were injured. I fixed you."
The kid grumbled, "Sure doesn't feel like it. Are…are these stitches?!"
Victor slapped the kids hands away as he reached up to pick at them, "Don't touch and don't move. Doctor's orders."
The kid snarled, then winced, and more quietly spoke, "I can't lay here for however long it takes to heal! This is cold! And don't ever muck around with my insides again..it's…it's."
He shivered, staring fearfully at the threaded x's marking his chest. "It hurts, can I get some pills or something? You don't look like a doctor! Where's your license? Who said you could do this?"
From across the room, Kat cursed, "Dammit."
Vic shot her a confused look and turned back to the kid, "We'll get something soft for all of us to sleep on. You were camped…where? And I think saving your life deserves some respect."
The dark haired boy scowled, "Laundry room, just down the hall."
Victor glanced at McKayla and she darted through the doors to go retrieve the bedding and blankets that would last them through the night.
He chuckled, already they were acting more like a team…crazy situations like these were bound to pull some weird pack-mind from the base of their dna.
"So what's your name?"
The kid was caught off guard. "What?"
Victor drummed his fingers on the table, intent on the person who'd somehow known who he was. Maybe he'd recognize this kid's name. "My name is Victor, what is yours?"
Dread flashed across the kid's face, and Victor's suspicions flared; he had to know Vic's past. It was the only explanation.
"Shit…uh…my name?"
The kid was balking, which was even worse, Victor growled, softly, starting to get annoyed…and scared. "Yeah, your name."
"My names…my names…" The kid was obviously panicking, trying to make up a fake name.
Vic slammed his fist on the table, "I'm just asking you your name you nitwit!"
The kid stammered out, "Jones! It's Jones okay?! God!"
Both looked away from each other, both cursing under their breath,
"Shit."
I liked this chapter despite Jone's lack of involvement.
Um…anyone looking at the medical references, don't try any of it or even take anything I say concerning gore for factual. I know things are kinda weird but this is coming from a game where a health kit can heal EVERYTHING. Also; a game about zombies.
Whatever, I figured since most survivors were scattered about not all of them would know about some of the specials. I know I go through levels without finding the witch and stuff. : (
The character's backstories thicken…kinda.
Well it's official, only two chapters left. Submit your guesses or muse about them to yourself. I bet you never see it coming.
Happy Labor Day!
-Zekkie