Chapter Eight - The Sacrifice

The world seemed to swirl around turbulently within his mind as he came to. His eyes struggled to open fighting against the blaring pain of his head. The first thing that Charlie Wilhelm noticed was that his hands were cuffed. He tried to sit up but found his muscles still partially in the grip of paralysis. The room around him slowly came into focus. It was well furnished with two lavishly upholstered chairs and a dresser accompanying the bed he was laying on. His first guess, despite still being in a mental fog, was that he was still within the Bed and Breakfast. He did his best to get to his feet but ended up collapsing onto the bed. He attempted to overcome the throbbing of his tired head but it seemed fruitless at first.

When at last the cobwebs cleared from his mind Private Wilhelm leapt to the task at hand, namely his escape. He wasn't sure exactly why it had been done but he was positive that, at the very least, his food had been drugged. He was thankful that they had decided to cuff his hands in front of him rather than placing them painfully behind his back. He stepped up to the door and, assuming that it would be locked, knelt to get a look out the keyhole into the hallway. As he had suspected a guard stood out in the hallway. His eyes darted around the room in a futile search for something, anything that he could use as a weapon in the inevitable confrontation. He gave up but quickly formulated an escape plan that would help him create a suitable weapon if executed correctly.

Private Wilhelm grabbed a small towel from the cramped bathroom and got a running start toward the window. He lowered his shoulder and slammed into the glass but to his dismay it didn't shatter, it didn't even crack. He was hoping that the glass was old and had been put in before the application of plastic between panes. He lowered his shoulder and charged again this time managing to crack the glass. He had to act quickly because already he could hear the guard becoming alert just beyond the door. Wilhelm got up one last head of steam and finally shattered the window. He was moving on pure instinct now, executing the plan without thought or doubt within his mind. He broke off a sharp shard of glass holding it safely with the towel and ducked into the bathroom just before the guard entered.

The guard, who Wilhelm recognized as one of the townsfolk he'd seen at the feast, ambled in with a perplexed expression splayed across his face. He drew his weapon, a handgun, and stepped up to the window using his eyes to scan the outside for any sign of the escaped prisoner. Private Wilhelm rushed him from behind impaling the shard of glass into his lower back and jarring him against the window sill nearly sending him out the window. The guard's gun toppled to the alley below which, Wilhelm only just now noticed, was covered with a light layer of snow. The guard screeched and turned on his enemy simultaneously reaching for the shard of glass that was embedded several inches into his back. Wilhelm used this opportunity to tackle the man to the ground driving the glass deeper and allowing the Private time to find the keys to the cuffs the guard was carrying.

Charlie Wilhelm had no time to free himself of the cuffs just yet, the sound of several pairs of footsteps pounding down the hallway told him he had to make his escape now. He took the keys and looked across the alleyway to a fire escape on the adjacent building. He leapt out just in time narrowly avoiding several rounds from a small caliber pistol. He wasn't in a much safer position, however, now dangling from a fire escape more than twenty feet from the ground beneath him. He swung himself using every bit of his strength he propelled himself across the street latching on the frame of the first floor window less than ten feet off the ground. He dropped to the ground well aware that the enemy was hot on his trail and dashed off into the darkness.

Drums. Drums pounding in her head. Malana Landry couldn't tell whether those drums were real or the product of the resounding pain in her skull. Shadows were all around her as her eyes opened at last, blurry forms and figures wearing robes that hid their faces. She could hear the drums more clearly now, each thud shuddered through her bones. Chanting was also there, quiet but constant, emerging from the lips of those who wore the robes. Her memory failed her for but a moment before the horrible truth dawned upon her. She felt the bindings of rope around her ankles and around her hands. She felt the hands of her captors upon her, pushing her forward through the forest. Fear flooded her mind as she considered the possibilities. Where were they taking her? Had this entire town gone mad? Or had the mad ones in the town merely killed or converted all those who were sane?

Malana looked all around her searching desperately for her friends but Brutus, Allan and Kael were nowhere to be found. She did see familiar faces, however, female faces. The other women of their group were there. Sarah Milano, Kelly Nakamaru, and Maria Jacobs were being led just as she was, bound and dressed in nothing but nightgowns through the snow-covered trees and icy ground towards a light source in the distance. Malana tried to struggle, she began to fight back twisting and turning but the hands that held her only grew more insistent and rough against her flesh.

"You can't do this!" she cried, "You can't fucking do this!"

"Awake at last," one hooded woman hissed, "He likes them when they are awake for it."

"Don't fight it," another one insisted, "You are being sacrificed for the glory of God and for the safety of our souls and our earthly bodies."

"FUCK YOU!" Malana spat trying to fall flat on the snow so that she could get her arms under her feet to get her cuffed hands out in front of her. It felt as though a hundred hands were holding her tight, keeping her from escape.

"We'll be there soon," one of the figures said in a familiar voice that Malana simply couldn't place, "The sacrifice is about to begin."

Private Wilhelm knew his enemy was near, he could hear the feet crunching through the snow. He stood atop the porch roof of one of the quaint little houses that populated the streets of Thurmont and waited. In his hands he clutched the Colt M19 he'd recovered in the alleyway of the Bed and Breakfast. He called out to his enemy luring him closer. The deranged citizen, dressed in darkest purple robes, turned the corner with his own gun, a double-barrel shotgun, drawn. Wilhelm waited until he heard the footsteps get close enough and then took aim and fired. His bullet buried itself into the snow puncturing the propane tank he'd buried there and blowing his enemy to bits. He hopped down to admire his handiwork but found himself cringing at the sight of crimson stained snow. It wasn't over, however, and one last enemy came around the corner.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't our little escapee," Don said lifting his Colt Python, "Come on Private, that's enough, I don't want to do any killing tonight."

"That makes one of us," Wilhelm growled rushing toward the deviant deceitful man and firing off a round into Don's foot before tackling him to the ground and disarming him.

"You really are a soldier aren't you?" Don growled as Wilhelm choked him with rage boiling in his veins.

"What did you do with them you sycophantic asshole!"

"I'm sorry," Don laughed managing to break free of Wilhelm's grip to punch him in the face, "You'll have to be more specific!"

"My group," Wilhelm said this time with his pistol to the man's head, "Where are they and what the hell did you do with them?"

"Careful Private," Don said with a sickening smile, "I'm ready to meet my maker, but you, you kill Private Wilhelm, and you know what the good book says about killing."

"Remember what it says about an eye for an eye?" Wilhelm growled reading the weapon to fire, "If you killed them I will bury you and this town in blood!"

"Relax Private," Don said at last showing signs of being nervous, "They are unharmed, for now, they have been chosen as the vessels for the sacrifice. The women have been taken to the forest, to the cave to the West of town, the men and the children are back at the bed and breakfast. It is a pity you chose this path, you had such promise. You could have been one of us Private. We serve a merciful and loving God. All he demands is the blood of the guilty."

"Then allow me to make an offering," Wilhelm said squeezing the trigger.

Wilhelm left the snow covered in blood and brains and grabbed Don's Colt Python before setting out. If he was going to save anyone from being sacrificed he needed some help and with no better plan apparent he decided a prison break at the Bed and Breakfast was in order. He made his way as stealthily as he could from street to street trying to keep clear of patrolling citizens. As he made his way he took note of nearly a dozen guards at the end of one street guarding something beneath a tarp but he decided against risking it, the APC would have to wait. The city was on alert because of his presence but despite this fact he didn't face much resistance reaching the Bed and Breakfast. He timed his approach so that the only two guards would be in front of the building and managed to sleep inside the basement door located on the side of the building. Using a skeleton key attached to the keychain he'd taken off the guard earlier he entered the bed and breakfast.

It didn't take long for the guards to arrive but Wilhelm was hardly about to be out shot by a few amateurs, the Colt Python delivered a poisonous dose of lead to the first four guards. Wilhelm bumrushed the last sentinel who came down the stairs holding a Mossberg 500 pump shotgun. Private Wilhelm was too quick for the man and was soon making his way up the stairs into the kitchen area with the shotgun in hand.

He opened the door before reaching the top stair and saw that the guards up above had itchy trigger fingers as bullets barreled into the wooden door with abandon. Wilhelm saw that every bullet was above a certain level and it sounded as if the rounds that went low were hitting a barrier. He took a deep breath and began to low crawl out of the door. His relief was palpable when he saw the fifteen foot long kitchen countertop that had blocked the bullets earlier. He could hear the footsteps of each sentinel moving closer to him. He could see their reflections in a nearby frying pan, three of them. Once he'd made sure his shotgun was loaded he popped up firing off three shotgun blasts in rapid succession. The first blast struck two of the guards tearing through their robes and burrowing into flesh they fell to the ground before the second and third rounds came. Those two final shotgun shells eviscerated the last soldier before he could even pump his shotgun the first time.

The sounds of footsteps in the next room told Wilhelm that he wasn't home free just yet. The first guard stumbled into the room wielding nothing but a pistol and clearly not using his brain. A second later his brain was splattered across the counter by one well placed frying pan to the head. The resounding gong of the frying pan was loud but not loud enough to spare Wilhelm the sickening crack of human skull. Killing infected humans was one thing but these were ordinary human beings, zealous and delusional perhaps, but still not zombies in the sense he was used to.

The next guard was much smarter. He opened fire on the room before entering littering the room with bullets at an impressively high fire rate. Wilhelm was forced to retreat to the basement again to avoid the ricocheting ballistic bullet fragments that bounced around the room. Wilhelm listened as the deafening sound of gunfire died out and the sound of the guard's boots against the linoleum tiles replaced it. He could hear that the guard was reloading his Light Machine Gun. In Wilhelm strode with his newly reloaded shotgun, out came two quickly pumped shells. The first impacted against the guard's bullet proof vest, apparently this man had been a policeman before the apocalypse turned him into a cultist. The second, however, tore off a good portion of the man's face and reduced him to a corpse in less than a second.

He moved into the next room hoping to face little opposition from here on out. As usual though Charlie Wilhelm's hopes did little to influence the reality of the situation he found himself in. There were guards waiting for him on the other side. However Charlie Wilhelm was no fool and he took several rounds of their gunfire to the bullet proof vest he was now wearing before blowing away each of the three guards in rapid succession. Breathing a sigh of relief that no bullets had found his face he raced upstairs towards the bedrooms. As he entered the hall a guard leapt at him from behind forcing him to drop his shotgun, he tried to get to it but soon found a knife lodged in his leg. He spun on his enemy watching as the guard grabbed his shotgun and pumped it. Wilhelm struggled to get the knife from his leg. It seemed hopeless as he tugged the stubborn steel and stared down the barrel of a shotgun at point blank. The fiend before him squeezed the trigger but to Wilhelm's surprise no shell was fired. HE WAS OUT. Of course, he remembered, he fired off every shell and didn't reload. Relieved at his own absent-mindedness Wilhelm retrieved the knife at last and, before the guard could turn and run, threw it at the man. It cut through the air and dug into the guard's throat sending blood spurting across the hallway. Wilhelm kicked the man's feet out from under him and down the guard fell tumbling down the stairs while the blood gushed from his wound.

Bleeding and exhausted Wilhelm struggled to get to his feet and recover the keys from his belt loop. Luckily the knife had not reached any arteries and the wound was fairly minor although it hurt like hell as he walked those first few dozen steps. He unlocked each door finding the men and children just where Don said they would be. After patching himself up using medical supplies from the bathrooms he quickly briefed everyone on the situation.

"They've taken the women," he said guzzling down water, "They're to be part of some sacrifice out in the woods at some cave."

"And you came for us first! They could be dead because of you!" Daijito complained.

"They could have been dead before I even woke up from the drugs," Charlie retorted, "I couldn't go it alone and besides, did you really want to stay in that room?"

"So what do we do soldier?" Brutus asked with a skeptical tone, "How do you expect us to rescue them?"

"The APC," Private Wilhelm answered, "On my way here I saw it at the end of the street. It's guarded but with all of us carrying guns we have a good chance of taking it back. Unless you have any better ideas."

"No, that one sounds pretty good," Brutus admitted reluctantly, "Let's do this."

"Wait a minute," Daijito said suddenly, "Where is Landon?"

Malana watched the obscene ceremony with bile swelling in her throat. She cringed as they brought out their last victim. She was very young, probably not out of her teens, her stomach swelled to bursting with the dark creature churning within. Malana could see the terror on her face as they laid her down on the flat stone and tore away her clothes to leave her naked. Her sickly pale skin was made even more colorless by the waning November moonlight. The chants grew louder now as the robed figures moved forward toward the young teen.

"Miss Dianna Yates," Carlos Salvo declared, "You are truly blessed! For in your belly lies the seed of the damned, the KEY to our salvation! You have been selected for the sacrifice and for one week within your womb a devil has gestated. Now it is time for it to be born."

Malana felt her eyes wet with tears as the poor girl screamed. The infected child within her, buried there by some sort of zombie, now devoured its way out. With razor claws and sharpened fangs it broke from her gun spilling blood and organs across the already bloodstained stone. Malana looked away in disgust. Despite being broken open Dianna Yates remained alive long enough to look into the lifeless eyes of the infected child as it breathed for the first time. The cult members moved to grab the infant and held it high. Carlos approached and inspected the creature and the other hooded figures gathered around.

"Don't move!" one of the hooded figures shouted and Malana's eyes sprung open again, "I've got a gun on him!"

"Landon?" Malana asked beneath her breath watching the cult members move toward the man they now recognized as an outsider.

"This has to stop!" the man shouted, his hood fell revealing that it was Landon Jacobs, husband of Maria Jacobs who stood less than a hundred feet away, "I will kill your leader unless the madness ends."

"The only mad one here is you," Carlos said, "We are merely seekers of salvation."

Malana used this moment to slip her hands below her feet and get them out in front of her. She turned on the guards then spin kicking the first before tacking the second. There were a lot of them but many had their attention drawn to Landon's distracting display. The other women soon caught on as well trying their own escape attempts. Robed figures were upon them at once and despite the distraction all four were soon back in custody of the cult members.

"A noble attempt at creating a distraction," Carlos applauded, "You would sacrifice yourself for these women?"

"For my wife, yes!" Landon shouted with fire in his blue eyes, "I would die for her."

"Then perhaps you should die with her!" Carlos shouted back before spinning on the man and plunging a blade into his heart, "In a week she shall join you beyond the gates of hell after she has served her purpose."

Landon's blood stained the snow below and the sound of wailing emerged from the lips of all the women, not just Maria. Malana felt sick to her stomach as they led the four of them forward toward Carlos, toward the cave.

"The time has come," Carlos cackled readying the dagger to kill the infant, "With the sacrifice of this infant we start the cycle anew!"

"Sir!" a robed man interrupted and Carlos cast him a nearly fatal glance, "Sir, it's the armored vehicle, they've taken it, they're lose in the town."

"Kill them," Carlos commanded coldly as he drove home the dagger into the wailing infected infant, "Kill the sinners down to the last child."

"You sure about this Charlie?" Brutus asked feeling truly strange behind the wheel of the APC.

"I explained the controls," Wilhelm argued, "You'll get the hang of it. Besides, somehow has to stay behind and look after the children."

"Shit," Daijito exclaimed poking his head into the APC, "Guys, it looks like there's a shit-load of them coming this way. Oh Christ!"

"What?" Brutus asked.

"They've killed Landon," Daijito explained with a pale expression, "They've got his head on a fucking pike."

"These fuckers are serious now," Brutus said, "Get on the gun kid."

"Sweet," Kael remarked climbing up to the mini-gun turret mounted into the APC.

"I'll take out as many as I can," Brutus said as Wilhelm ran back toward the Bed and Breakfast, "The rest is up to you."

Brutus drove the APC towards the woods trying to keep it moving at a brisk pace. Kael did his best to eliminate the cult members as they stormed out of the tree line as if on a crusade chanting eerily as they marched. Bodies flew apart and blood and bones were scattered but eventually Kael powered down the turret trying to conserve enough ammo to save the women when they reached the cave. The steady stream of citizens told them exactly where the cave was as they crashed through the underbrush towards their destination.

Wilhelm sat in the Bed and Breakfast unsure of what to do. He'd locked all the doors and had the children take refuge in one of the only rooms without any windows and with only one access point that he could guard. His nervousness was only multiplied by the sound of the crying infant, child of Kelly and Daijito Nakamaru. He was unsure if his presence was known or if his being there would actually serve to endanger the children rather than protect them.

All seemed quiet for the first few minutes with no sign of any kind that the cult had caught on to their whereabouts. It didn't take long, however, for the sound of the chanting crowd to fill the air. Wilhelm felt utterly stupid in those moments for not moving the children to a different building, for spending all their strength on getting the APC. He second guessed his decision to split the two groups. After all the children would have been fairly safe in the APC, it was armored after all and as far as he knew the townsfolk didn't have the tools to pierce that armor. Perhaps he wasn't cut out to be a leader at all, perhaps Malana had been wrong.

He quieted his doubts as the first patrol approached. He kept quiet and even attached a silencer he'd found on one of the guards to his M19. They entered the Bed and Breakfast through the front door, three of them had shotguns, the other two pistols and the last one merely carried a torch. They split up to search the facility and it didn't take long for Wilhelm to need to put his weapon to use as two of them followed the siren song of the wailing baby. He fired off three rounds into the first cult member but before he could end the other one's life the second citizen called out to the others. Wilhelm waited for the others and ended their lives just as quickly, none of them even got to fire a shot.

Momentarily satisfied with his performance he disrobed one of the cult members and got into the robe before dragging off the body. He lay, dressed as one of their own, at the top of the steps waiting for more to approach and masquerading as a fallen friend.

Malana felt fear pulsing through her blood and echoing across every fiber of her being. She could see the zombie moving in the back of the cave, coming towards them as it made its way through the winding tunnels. The cult members sat just beyond the iron bars that lay over the mouth of the cave watching and calling out for their grotesque pet to do its nasty work. They called it a Breeder. A zombie that, as Don had explained to them, could reproduce. But Malana had assumed, as had Private Wilhelm that the zombies were reproducing with each other not with humans. The very idea that this sickening thing was being used to impregnate human women nearly caused Malana to pass out especially now that she could see it.

The Breeder's skin was orange and gray and covered with scratches and wounds likely caused by its victims struggling against it. It towered over the four women and was at least seven feet tall and had four burly arms it could use to better dominate its victims. Its body was completely nude and Malana recoiled in horror at the sight. She turned to her side and felt bile rise in her throat and escape her mouth as the creature, heaving and panting and ready to mate, rushed toward them. It barreled Malana over despite her struggling and reached with sickly scaly hands attempting to spread her legs open.

"Now you shall give us what we need," Carlos cried, "A sacrifice!"

Suddenly the sound of gunfire lit up the night and, to Malana's delight, startled the Breeder enough for her to kick the creature away from her. Bullets bore into the crowd of cult members cutting them down quickly. Daijito, wielding a familiar M4 assault rifle, stepped out a few moments later and took aim into the cave quickly bringing down the Breeder.

"Freeze assholes!" Brutus shouted over the loudspeaker that was built into the APC, "Let the women go!"

"You monsters!" one of the cult members shouted, "You killed our Breeder!"

"Our salvation is lost!" another screamed.

"Your salvation is a bunch of horseshit!" Brutus shouted, "You can't kill innocent people just to keep your town safe."

"You are the only one here killing the innocent," Carlos accused, "My people are ready to meet God if it comes to that, but you sinner, you shall not find that to be pleasant."

"I gotta admit though," Brutus said, "Blowing your head right off your fucking shoulders would be pretty pleasant."

"Let them go," Carlos said to his members all of which recoiled in surprise, "They have won clearly."

"But what will we do?" a cult member asked, "We have no Breeder and no more women to sacrifice!"

"You'll just have to survive like the rest of us," Kael said helping the women out of the cave, "That's a sacrifice you'll just have to make."

Private Wilhelm was pushed to the limits of his endurance. He'd been holding them off for twenty minutes now but he was running out of options. There were dozens of them in the building now and he could only kill so many before he would run out of ammunition and places to hide. He'd moved the children into another room and fed a bit of tied up bed sheet out the window in case they needed an escape route. It had been made abundantly clear that the cult members were now actively trying to kill the children. Erica Jacobs had merely met an untimely death at the knife of one wily enemy when she'd left the room in an attempt to find a bathroom.

Despite his best efforts there seemed to be no end to their horde. He now saw the relentless single-mindedness that made these people so much like the infected. His bullets entered their bodies without remorse now as robed corpses hit the ground one right after the other. He'd managed to find an MG36, he'd taken it off of the bullet proof vested corpse from the kitchen. Despite its high rate of fire and massive magazine even that could not stem the flow of enemies forever. The bodies were piling up and Private Wilhelm began to wonder where between fifty and a hundred the body count truly was. Molotov cocktails, stray bullets and even the occasional fire cracked were tossed towards him, towards the landing at the top of the stairs where he made his final stand. He'd taken a few hits, nothing direct, two minor grazes and a burn from putting out Molotov flames before they could reach the children.

Finally the bullets stopped and the bodies all lie still. Nearly a hundred enemies lie dead across the dining room below. Purple robes stained by red blood strewn across the Bed and Breakfast. Wilhelm took the time to reload the last gun he had ammunition for, the M19. The minutes ticked by without incident and Wilhelm tried to listen beyond the ringing in his ears for the sound of any remaining enemies. He hoped that Brutus and the others had done alright and that they would make their way back soon. Silence filled the air and his eyes were growing heavy but he couldn't allow himself to fall asleep. With groggy eyes he watched the children peek out into the hall. They walked out with concern on their young faces for his well being.

"Go back," he said gently, "Go back."

"Are there anymore bad guys Mister Charlie?" Gregory Jacobs asked.

"Go back!" Wilhelm said, more insistently. It was too late however, he turned his eyes to see a man standing there in a robe with wicked grin across his face and a pistol pointed straight for four year old Gregory Jacobs. Wilhelm summoned every bit of his remaining strength to put himself between the kid and the bullet as it arrived. He felt the round enter the base of his neck and cut its way through his collar bone but luckily, thanks to his bullet proof vest, the round stopped after it emerged from his spine. He collapsed to the floor with blood rushing onto the carpet of the landing as he tried to stop the man from hurting any of the children.

"Don't die just yet," the sick-o cult member cooed, "I want you to watch what I do to the children. They will be sent to meet God."

Wilhelm couldn't do anything, he tried to reach for the M19 but it had fallen behind him. He took his hand away from stopping the bleeding to reach for his gun. He was losing far too much blood and the world grew dark around him. In those last moments he felt like a failure. It was his decision that had doomed them, this detour would be the end of three little children and an infant and one failure of a soldier. He managed to get a hold on the gun but the blood that covered his hands made it slippery. It was then that he saw William, Sarah's son, emerge from the room with a look of sheer rage displayed on his ten year old face. Without skipping a beat the kid grabbed the M19 from Wilhelm's hands and held it toward the man

"Tell your God to go fuck himself."

William Milano pulled the trigger ended the life of the cult member whose corpse tumbled down the stairs.

"Kid," Wilhelm managed to wheeze, "You did good kid. William, I want you to have this," Wilhelm said tearing off his dog-tags, "Wear it proudly."

"I won't forget this," William said watching the man fade from life, "I'll tell them how you protected us."

The others arrived five minutes later finding Wilhelm in a pool of blood, most of it belonged to others. It was too late for him and despite finding a defibrillator in a nearby ambulance they were unable to revive him. Each one of them paid their respects to the fallen soldier in their own way as they buried him in the snow-covered soil of the local cemetery. Had he been alive he would have heard kind words, no one declared him a failure. It was his sacrifice that had saved the children and his heroics that had saved them all.

They left Thurmont as the first light of dawn crested over the horizon each one with new demons haunting them. Malana was amazed at just how monstrous human beings could become without the infection. How quickly society was replaced by superstition in such dark times. They departed without two of their own, tired and unsure of where to turn they drove on down Route 15. Wanting to survive, but hoping for a haven.