I am back!!! Thanks to all those who have not given up on me or did, but came back. This story will go on although I am saddened to announce that my other story that I mentioned previously has been postponed indefinitely, both because I find my writing ability inadequate to do it justice and that I simply do not have the focus for two stories.
Enjoy, and please review if you have any comments or suggestions.
Chapter 15: The Great Escape
(May 4th --- 29 day after Outbreak)
"Ahhhrgh!" Jacen cried incoherently, in pain as one of the creatures stepped on his back. The sudden pressure caused him to cough up a small amount of blood, which he quickly spat to he side.
Everything hurt; well everything except his left arm, which was numb and non-responsive. I should count my blessings, Jacen's positive side pointed out. Without the shark suit I would be dead a couple times over.
His vision began to blur (not that he minded much) and even though the view of the polished floor tiles that filled his field of vision was far from spectacular, it did indicate that he was close to losing consciousness………or dying.
Lets see, as of my last count thirty-four people died because of me and now roughly the same amount are about to be rescued, he reflected, feeling some consolation in the idea that he had finally made the deaths count. Regardless, he added as his consciousness began to fade, I do hope I wake up.
The darkness began to take him faster and faster; finally, just before the world went completely dark, Jacen could have sworn that he heard Pop Goes the Weasel faintly in the distance.
Bum--BaDaDa-DaDaDa--Bum-BaDa-DaDaDa--Bum
"Shit!" Marquis cursed as he scrambled to shut off the speaker.
Ba…
"What the hell was that?" Nate hissed as the music quickly faded and died altogether, glancing around for signs of any demons; there were none in sight, but he hoped that would change soon. "I want moans of the undead, not a rendition of Pop Goes the Weasel."
Marquis lifted his head out from under the dashboard. "Look, this isn't an exact art; I'm trying to interface a complex piece of military technology with a fifteen year old ice cream truck," he said, pausing to look at his watch. "Give me another minute, 'kay?"
"Try it again!" Mike yelled after tweaking the engine for what felt like the hundredth time.
Pufffft... Pufffft…
"Come on," Sally mumbled while anxiously chewing on her hair as the truck's engine struggled to ignite.
Pufffft... Pufffft… Vroooom
Sally, Mike, and all the accompanying IDF let out a brief cheer and then continued working. Sally went to the back to help the others unload packages that filled the truck while Mike radioed Mendez to inform him of their progress.
She automatically took her place at the end of one of two chains of IDF. The system was simple and efficient; each chain consisted of four people, two in the car and two on the ground. The person at the beginning of each chain would pick up a package and pass it to the next person in line, then to the next, and finally to the last who would toss it into a pile that became very big very fast.
As they went, Sally noted that boxes labeled "Handle with Care," were, in fact, handled far more harshly than other packages. She attributed this to the occasional shattering sound such packages would make when they where tossed into the pile and figured that, most likely, the boys obtained some amount of gratification from the sounds of destruction.
Ten minutes and dozens of boxes later, they were done; two IDF, namely Jay and Danny, where posted as guards and everyone else was allowed to rest. Serves them right, Sally thought with approval, Jay has been an ass more than once on this trip and Danny's comment in the stairwell was inappropriate... Though I admit it was flattering.
Sally used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe the sweat from her forehead and then sat down against the rear wheel of the truck facing out across the street. It was hard for her to believe that the pile of rubble she was looking at had, only hours ago, been a haven where they had joked and laughed; she briefly entertained the thought of going over to look for Mark's body but dismissed it quickly, knowing all too well that she wouldn't have enough time.
After a few bittersweet moments of silent concentration, Sally heard footsteps and turned to see Mike approaching. "I just finished talking with the Captain. Marquis has rigged the radio to an ice cream truck, that's where the music was coming from, and is now traveling with Nate and your friend to meet us here, though for obvious reasons they have to take back alleys to get here," Mike said wearily as he relaxed against the car.
"The radio will activate in five minutes -we will give it ten minutes to take effect- then Mendez will take out any stragglers and escort the civilians to the truck. If all goes according to plan Nate will get here a little before the rest."
Sally used her left hand to brush her dark hair out of her face and gently tucked it behind her ear. "What about Jacen?" She asked with a hint of accusation as continued to stare forward.
"Jacen, who's tha…," Mike paused mid-sentence, realizing who she meant, "Ohhh, the bodyguard; the Captain said that if he is alive and uninfected then they will make sure he gets here, but in any other scenario he gets a mercy bullet."
I never should've let him do that, Sally told herself angrily as she tightened her fists in frustration. If he dies the best case scenario would be that I become hated, at worse Intrepid would-
"Beautiful sunset," Mike commented after half a minute of tense silence, breaking Sally's concentration.
"Under other circumstances I would agree," she replied curtly and then trailed off.
"But?"
Sally let out another deep sigh. "Well, you know that explosion you heard a couple of hours ago?" She waited for Mike to nod and pointed to a mass of rubble across the street. "That was Mark; he sacrificed himself to save the rest of us and in the process killed dozens of those things…… Kinda kills the mood, huh?"
"Thanks for ruining my first sunset in a long time," Mike quipped, sounding more than a little irritated.
"No problem," Sally replied mockingly. Off in the distance the loudest undead moan ever heard began to echo throughout Bestine. Sally stood up as she heard the noise and began to walk away but then stopped and looked over her shoulder. "It would kinda suck for you to have come all this way only to get bitten on the ass while you're appreciating the sunset."
Finished talking, Sally turned and walked around to the back of the truck to get everyone up and ready, leaving Mike with his jaw hanging open. "Did…did I just get burned by a little girl?" he whispered to himself in astonishment.
Connor walked over to Linda, a general surgeon who was in the process of looking over the injured boy. She was a thin woman with short, curly brown hair tied up in a bun and wore a once white lab coat that was now dotted with numerous coagulated blood stains. Linda had told him that she had had gotten the various stains when she had tried to save a coworker by amputating his leg; the amputation itself had been a success but apparently he had multiple bite wounds.
"So what's the prognosis?" he asked, looking at the boy over her shoulder.
"Not done yet," Linda replied absently and paused before continuing, all the while still examining the boy. "It's rather hard to get a full list of injuries when he is wearing this armor."
"Why don't you take it off?"
She checked the boy's pupils and, seeming satisfied with the result, stood up and addressed him. "Bad idea, to do so would require unnecessary movement that could very well cause him further harm."
"Makes sense," Connor replied and then added, "So what can you tell me?"
"Well," she began hesitantly, "I am fairly certain that he is not infected, but he does have a moderate concussion. Besides that I know for sure that there are more injuries but cannot determine the type or severity under these conditions."
"Will he live?"
Linda glared at Connor momentarily, visibly upset that she was being forced to make that call with so little information available. "Probably," she replied tersely.
For a moment he considered leaving the kid behind, carrying him would slow down the group. But he also put his life on the line to save a bunch of people he doesn't even know. "Thanks Linda, I'll take it from here."
"Freddie, Ted, get over here," Connor ordered as Linda nodded and walked away.
"So," Ted began as he approached, "are we carrying the kid or giving him one between the eyes?"
"The former," Connor replied in a disapproving tone.
Knowing where this conversation was leading, Ted knelt down and began digging out the collapsible stretcher that he, as medic, was responsible for carrying.
"Well, he's going to be a bitch to carry," Freddie replied after he was brought up to date. "I suppose we owe it to him though."
Connor nodded approvingly. "That we do Sergeant."
Freddie un-slung his rifle and handed it to Connor. " Take my gun," he said, "it only has two rounds in it but it's the only one besides Nate's that has any ammo left, and it won't be of much use to me since I'm carrying the boy."
Freddie walked over to Ted and together they gently lifted the boy onto the stretcher. Despite their care, however, the boy momentarily awoke at the movement and cried out in pain before lapsing back into unconsciousness. To prevent another occurrence of this Ted got out a needle of morphine from his pack and injected it into the boy, then the two took their positions at either end and lifted the stretcher into the air.
"Ok everyone," Connor shouted, turning towards the crowd, "we are leaving. In all likelihood we will be running into some demons, and in that event I will need all of you to remain calm; don't be a hero, let me handle anything that gets in our way. If there are too many we will take an alternate route."
Connor was the first to exit the building. Immediately to the left of the building, no more than fifty feet away there was a scattered group of demons that began to moan and limp towards him. Fortunately they where far enough away to be of little threat and by the time their reinforcements would arrive, he and everyone else would be long gone. Hopefully, he added to himself.
Everyone began to file out after Connor in two rows with Ted and Freddie taking up the rear, carrying the kid. The pace was slow; nearly half of the civilians were carrying children on their back and the others, like Linda, carried gear. Conner would have preferred a light sprint or at least speed walking, but he supposed that as long as they were faster than the demons it wouldn't matter much.
They encountered their first problem when they turned a corner and were cut off by a group of demons, not six blocks away from the truck. There were five of them and only two bullets left in Freddie's gun. Connor took aim and fired; the first shot went low and hit one in the chest. He took a deep calming breath, steadied his hands and fired, creating a large hole in the demon's upper forehead just before it fell over. The remaining demons began to moan loudly, now recognizing that food was nearby.
"Captain! Captain, what was that?" Sally cried over the headset.
Connor keyed it off; he couldn't be bothered with voices buzzing around his head right now. Four left, he counted, brandishing the carbine like a club. He cautiously began to approach the creatures when someone towards the back of the group yelled for him to wait. He stopped and watched as the group parted to allow Peter to come forward with Suzie on his back and a sword in his hand.
"The... boy's... sword," he panted and handed the weapon to Connor, trying hard to keep his balance with the little girl on his back.
"It's Escaliber!" Suzie added excitedly and then clasped her hands together and pretended to swing an imaginary sword. "Now go hit the mo'sters!"
Connor dropped the carbine, nodded in thanks, and turned towards the demons that had advanced all of ten feet. He ran at the one on the far left and swung the sword in an awkward horizontal slash. The sword imbedded itself where the demon's right shoulder met its neck and held fast. The demon, seemingly unfazed, clawed at the air in an attempt to reach Connor.
He held on to the sword with a death grip, taking advantage of it being stuck and using it as a barrier between him and the demon. Of course, there were three others that had not remained idle during this encounter and were getting dangerously close.
"Get down!" a familiar voice yelled urgently. Connor flung himself to the ground and covered his head with his arms, acting on instincts ingrained into him long ago.
A bullet pierced the air where Connor had been only moments ago; the demon with the sword stuck in it fell over and landed on top of him, pinning Connor to the ground. Five more shots followed in quick succession, each one making a wet smacking noise as penetrated the demons bodies, yet only one more of the Demons fell.
"Damn it!" the same voice yelled in anger, followed by a new, higher pitched war cry as someone ran towards him. Connor uncovered his head and looked up to see an athletic looking young boy, no older than sixteen by his guess, with thick ash colored hair charging towards him with a sword drawn………a sword identical to the one stuck into the demon on top of him.
A single boy, a gun with ammo, and a familiar foul-mouthed voice, Connor thought as he mentally pieced puzzle together and then concluded:Must be Nate. The whole thought process took only a fraction of a second and by the time he had finished it the boy was already swinging at one of the two remaining demons.
The boy slashed directly into the center of its neck, not decapitating it but close enough to immobilize it; the boy thrust his leg at its chest, using the leverage gained to pull the blade free.
Even as the demon fell twitching to the ground the boy was already on the next one. He let go of the sword with his left hand and ran at the creature, his war cry overshadowing the creature's horrible moan. He kept running, getting closer and closer to the demon until he was only inches away and then dug his right foot into the ground and jabbed upward, putting his whole body into the attack. The blade pierced through the soft spot just under the chin and embedding deep into its skull. A small trickle of blood ran down the sword from the wound and pooled around the hilt.
The boy twisted the sword and jerked it free. So mesmerized was Connor by the horrible dance that it took him a moment to see the figure just over the kid's shoulder. "Behind you!" he cried. The boy attempted to duck into a low crouch but lost his footing and fell on his ass instead, narrowly avoiding the demons arm as it attempted to swipe at his head.
Crap! Connor thought and tried to squirm out from under the demon that had him pinned down, but it was no use. All Connor could do was sit and watch.
As the boy attempted to scramble away on his hands and knees the creature began to reach down and it seemed to Connor that the boy was going to die. Then two thick arms emerged below the arms of the demons and held it in a lock; its attention instantly turned to the man who held it captive, biting the air ravenously as it turned its head to the side as far as it could. Its teeth finally caught hold and it jerked its head to the opposite side. "Sonufabitch!" man yelled, slurring the words together.
Connor feared the worst until the creatures face turned back around, revealing a thick patch of red hair in its mouth. The same large hands sank out of sight and then reappeared instantly near the creatures head; they struck like a bolt of lightning, instantly snapping the demon's neck. The demon fell to the side, revealing a very pissed and now mostly beardless Nate.
Connor heard footsteps coming from behind him, followed by a large pressure being relieved from his poor back. "Took you long enough Marquis," Connor said in mock anger.
"You're welcome."
The Captain bent over the demon that had pinned him and jarred the sword free and walked over to Nate, who was mourning his beard, and the boy who was methodically performing the finishing blows to the paralyzed, but still alive demons. Nate was rubbing his chin as he approached. "Damn thing bit my beard off," Nate cursed, angrily holding out his middle finger with such intensity that it looked as though fire would shoot out of it. "I liked that beard."
"Stop bitching, Walters, you're only twenty two; it'll grow back fast with all that youthful energy you have pent up," Connor snickered with a sly grin. He looked back at the group and waved them forward.
The engine groaned and fought to accelerate with all the excess weight forced upon it. Nate sat tensely with his feet dangling out the back of the car as it began to speed up. The experience was a bit unnerving for him because the truck was so full that the suspension was bottomed out, leading to an exceedingly bumpy ride that threatened to throw him off. For support he gripped onto a small bar protruding out of the side wall, hanging onto it like his life depended on it, which in a sense, it did.
Sally or Captain Sally, Nate still couldn't decide which to call her, was silently sitting next to him with her legs hanging over the back as well. She'd been rather distraught when she had seen the bodyguard being put in the truck on a stretcher but Linda had assured her that he was, not infected and would most likely live. After that she had continued to press the issue until the Captain had asked why she was so worried about a bodyguard; that shut her up fast. Since then she had been mostly quite as everyone was loaded into the truck.
Despite its audible protest, the truck had managed to level out its speed at 35 mph although it occasionally let out worrisome sputtering noises. The speed was a little faster than Nate would have liked, especially with the coming transition from paved roadway to a gravel one.
When the truck hit the gravel road Nate instinctively believed that someone had shot out one or all of the tires. Time seemed to slow down after that. He turned his head and immediately saw Sally staring at him, her vibrant sandblasted green eyes wide in terror; she was slipping. The brief eye contact seemed to go on forever, but slowly time sped up again and she began to slide off.
Using his left hand to anchor himself to the truck, Nate reached out with his right arm and scooped her up and onto his lap. It's the only way to ensure she doesn't fall off again he unsuccessfully tried to convince himself. Her eyes sure are mesmerizing though. Nate shook his head, trying to rid such thoughts from his mind.
"Thank you," she managed to squeak out eventually, then moments later added in a more controlled tone and slightly amused tone, "Umm... What happened to your face?"