A/N - Sorry for the long wait, but I have been extremely busy at school, going on camps and things as part of my job as a lead student at school. Finally I got this chapter completed. Thanks for your patience.
Chapter Twelve
9:29 p.m. – Sean Morton's Estate
Casper Island, New Barkham
Stanley ran back into the study, the sight of the fireballs etched onto his eyes. His migraine had disappeared as his worry for Isabel's safety took over. He retrieved Morton's mobile phone with Lane's voicemail on it and made his way downstairs towards the front entrance.
Stanley wrenched back the curtains and spied outside. The car he had stolen was swamped with zombies, leaving no clear path to re-enter it.
"Damn it," he muttered. He stood for a minute, pondering what to do. He wasn't getting back to Portigon on foot. The car was his only option.
Unsure of what he was going to do, he stepped outside anyway. The lack of sunlight presented a cold atmosphere. The wind pierced the skin revealing from the small gaps in his jumper where there were scratches. Standing on the driveway, Stanley saw the zombies looking back, moaning hungrily. Some of them rattled the iron gate protecting the driveway. He needed a way to divert their attention. Looking to his left, a small clipped hedge wall divided the front yard from the side.
Stanley ran for it, vaulting over the hedge and landing onto the side yard. Looking behind, some of them ran down the road to follow. He needed to get back to Portigon quick in case of another attack. A rock wall separated Morton's property with its neighbor. Scaling it, Stanley saw the group around the car disperse a little, with the exception of some still nearby.
Hopping down, Stanley hid out of sight from the infected out on the road. His handgun was still tucked behind his back. It had buckled when he landed; reminding him it was still there. He retrieved it and aimed at the house. His shut his eyes as he squeezed the trigger, but nothing erupted from the barrel. Opening an eye, he saw the lever on the back of the gun in its upward position. Almost slapping himself on the forehead, he pressed it down and closed his eyes once more. He pulled the trigger three times in succession, each blast louder than the last.
There was an uproar in the street. Nearly all of the infected in the neighborhood were making their way to Stanley's location upon hearing the gunshots. He took a peek over the wall.
The car was clear.
He stayed low for a few more minutes, waiting for more to converge on the origin on the gunshots. Once he felt he had hidden for long enough, he hopped back over the wall and sprinted for the car. Looking to the road, Stanley realized he was in a race. He clambered back over the hedge and ran down the driveway. They were on a collision course, with Stanley barely ahead of them. He climbed over the iron gate and made a break for the car.
Stanley began to panic as they came closer. He patted himself down for the keys when his painful heart sank. They were nowhere to be found in his pockets. With them only a few feet away, Stanley had no choice but to get in, squeezing past the airbag that had been released before.
The zombies collided roughly into the car, desperate to reach him. Avoiding the windows, Stanley got rid of the airbag. That was when he spotted the car key hanging from the ignition, exactly where he left it after that mysterious car had backed into him twenty minutes before. Stanley whispered his words of thanks to god before starting the car. Several of them were on the bonnet, making it difficult to get out. They scowled as the car jerked forward a little, knocking them backward. Slamming his foot on the accelerator, the car surged forward, struggling to get past the mass of people blocking his way. Many were bowled over as he turned the car around. Completing the U-Turn, he sped for the Weller Bridge.
9:46 p.m. – Subway Entrance
Portigon, New Barkham
Stanley crossed the bridge relatively easily, avoiding the destroyed roadblock he passed before and several wandering zombies. The glowing fire from the destroyed barricade was the only light source for miles thanks to the blackout. The subway entrance was just a few meters ahead. He felt a bit of nostalgia, remembering what it was like racing to the hospital for Nadia. Now it was a race to the subway to see if Isabel was safe.
He stopped the car opposite the subway entrance where there was a clear space away from any zombies. But he wasn't alone.
A mass of people barely lit by his headlights were approaching, all of whom seemed to be following one man. Stanley got out of the car to get a better look. From what he could tell, he was a soldier, who looked like he had gone through hell. Soot was smothering his face as his clothing looked singed from a fire. The stampede drew closer, forcing Stanley to go down into the subway before the soldier led them there.
He hopped down the stairs, hoping not to fall. He didn't have time to grab his flashlight in his back pocket. There was a flurry of footsteps behind him echoing in the station. Some of the pursuing zombies tumbled down the stairs due to their clumsiness. The soldier leaped down the rest of the stairs but ended up crashing into Stanley in the dark. Stanley let out a yelp as they were both sent sprawling onto the track.
Stanley felt the gravel scrape his skin as he struggled to get back up. The soldier was already on his feet, feeling threatened by whoever he had just knocked into. Before Stanley could say anything, he heard the man run down the tunnel – towards the other survivors.
"Stop!" called Stanley as he followed, although it wouldn't have been a good idea. The zombies had taken off after them. He couldn't allow the soldier to lead these guys back to the others. He pulled out Morton's mobile phone from his pocket, struggling to keep ahead of the rabid pack and to catch up with the wounded soldier. He hoped to warn Isabel about the incoming danger, but he was unable to get a signal in the tunnel.
"Damn it!" he yelled.
The pain in his leg from the car accident had almost vanished entirely, but Stanley barely noticed. All that was stopping him from surging forward was the painful migraine that had returned. The tunnel appeared to be spinning as he followed the soldier.
He pulled the pistol from the back of his jeans and gripped it in his hand. Half-turning, he squeezed the trigger midstride. His arm buckled violently from the recoil as the shockingly loud noise of the discharge echoed. He knew he had completely missed a target. Perhaps shooting while running, in the dark with no experience whatsoever wasn't the best idea. Deciding against firing another round, all he could do was keep running. The loud noise from the gunshot continued to ring in his ears. He was sure the silhouette of the soldier's head had turned to see who was firing, but he kept running when he realized Stanley was shooting the other way. The gap between the two parties had increased at least, which bought Stanley some time to warn the others.
10:02 p.m. – Subway Carriage
Portigon, New Barkham
Stanley finally caught up to the soldier just before they reached the carriage where the other survivors were hiding.
"Hey! Stop! I'm not one of them!"
The man turned his head to see Stanley's figure in the tunnels. He pulled out his sidearm from his hip holster. Stanley slowed his advance to demonstrate his lack of hostility. However, for every step Stanley took forward, the soldier took another back.
"Stay where you are," he ordered. He was panting from the run, but he kept his cool.
"There's no time for this!" he pleaded. "There're people in there, and we've led those things straight to them!"
The soldier looked confused as he glanced quickly behind him at the subway carriage before returning his leer at Stanley, keeping his sidearm aimed. Their fanatical noises were growing louder in the tunnels as they began to catch up.
"Stanley?" cried a familiar voice. "Is that you? Are you back?"
Both Stanley and the man turned to see Isabel standing at the end of the carriage. Her look of relief was replaced with one of shock. She gasped at the sight of him being held at gunpoint by the new face. "What's going on!? Who are you?"
The man looked back at Stanley, who was trembling restlessly. Stanley figured they had about a minute before the zombies would close in. The man hesitated, but lowered his weapon, realizing he was dealing with civilians.
"We need to get the hell out of here!" said Stanley, dropping his hands as soon as he wasn't being aimed at. He didn't want to waste time hearing an apology from whoever this person was. "They'll be here any second."
Isabel looked frightened as Stanley nudged the soldier towards the carriage. The echoes of their snarls grew louder.
"Get the others and move!"
Isabel nodded and began shouting out everyone's names as the soldier approached him. He looked a little miserable, but Stanley could tell he wasn't trying to show it.
"Sorry about that."
Stanley merely shook his head. "Save it. We've gotta get everyone out of here."
He nodded before checking the amount of bullets in the magazine for his pistol. Waving his flashlight, Stanley could see the word "Hiller" embedded on the man's singed vest. The man was covered in cuts and bruises.
"Hiller is it?" asked Stanley.
The man looked back at Stanley before turning back to his gun. "Just Ethan."
Stanley spared him more questions about why he looked so upset. The dark figures of the zombies were finally visible.
"Well Ethan, it's time to go."
Isabel had already evacuated the subway train and started their journey to the other station. Stanley prepared to run again as Ethan struggled to regain his breath. They watched them climb aboard before he gave Ethan a push towards the end of the carriage. Stanley kept his flashlight ahead of him, doing a quick check of either side of the carriages he traversed through, ensuring no one had been left behind.
They reached the end of the train and spotted Phil the college kid with a gun that was presumably Claude's. He stood firmly on the track, aiming at the train.
"Kid, there's too many of them, get going," urged Ethan, hopping off the train. Phil ignored him, standing his ground. Stanley approached him, but halted when he felt the trail of a bullet whiz past his neck.
"Stay the hell away from me," he warned, shaking. Keeping the gun trained on Stanley, he was unaware of the three zombies on the train behind him.
"Watch out!" cried Stanley, pointing behind him. Phil kept the gun aimed as he turned his neck to see. Confirming Stanley's warning, he brought the gun around.
But he was too slow.
The leader of the pack pounced on him, dragging him down. Phil yelled. He struggled to shoot, but the constant chomping of the zombie prevented him from firing. Stanley looked on helplessly. More and more were piling up on Phil.
"We need to go!" said Ethan, tugging Stanley away from the pile-up. But Stanley was immobile, shocked from what he was seeing.
The ones kneeling beside Phil glanced up fiercely at the two of them. They picked themselves up and advanced towards Stanley and Ethan.
"Let's GO!"
Ethan grasped Stanley's wrist and hauled him down the tunnel alongside himself. The zombies not getting a piece of meat from Phil tore after them.
Reaching the station, Stanley watched Isabel scramble up onto the subway platform together with Elisa. Claude was leading them with his flashlight, wiping some sweat off his forehead.
Ethan looked exhausted. Stanley was surprised he even got this far with those injuries. He could hear his huffing as he heaved himself onto the platform. Stanley turned to help his fellow survivor onto his feet and led him towards the surface.
10:16 p.m. – Yoshida International Industries Corporate HQ
Portigon, New Barkham
The defense contractor that Stanley and Isabel had barely made it out of a few hours ago loomed over the street under the moonlight. Isabel, Claude and Elisa had already crossed the road, attracting the attention of more zombies from both ends. Now their hunting party had grown.
"This way!" he heard Claude say. Stanley watched as they all ran down a ramp toward the parking garage. Isabel looked over her shoulder to see if Stanley was still running. Upon recognizing him, she waved frantically for him to hurry.
Stanley and Ethan both made their dash across the road; Ethan on his last breaths. The zombies from the tunnels had surfaced from the subway, and joined with the ones from the street. Stanley led the way down the ramp, almost tripping as both he and Ethan ducked under the shutter and entered the parking garage.
"Close the gate!" cried Elisa, pointing at the half-closed shutter.
Ethan skidded and ran back, trying to reach the shutter. The zombies sprinted towards them, Stanley watching anxiously. Ethan looked too fatigued to even jump, prompting Stanley to help. With the corrupt blood flowing through him, he felt agile enough to leap and grab hold of the shutter. The infected were only a few meters away now, and closing.
"Pull me down," said Stanley; hanging from the shutter a few feet off the ground. Both Ethan and Claude wrapped their arms around his legs and dragged him down. The shutter slid down also, crashing onto the ground.
The zombies smacked against the gate, shaking it but were ultimately unsuccessful at penetrating through as Claude secured it. Ethan collapsed onto the ground, wheezing from the run.
The zombies continued to batter against the gate as Claude spat back at them, breathing heavily. They had made it to another safe place, but how long could they stay where they were? Stanley didn't know as he fell next to Isabel, clutching his heart. The run had really taken its toll on it, and every beat caused him pain, especially since he was infected. But the second she cuddled him, it subsided.
"I was so worried you weren't gonna come back…" she whispered.
Stanley didn't reply. He simply welcomed the warmth of her closeness as he wondered what they were going to do now.
