Chapter Three - Messy and Screaming
He did everything he could to help Levy and the kids. When he told them to get to the stadium and that he'd meet them there, they all knew that he was lying. He got out of the car, into the burning smoke of the poisonous gas, and started to push, feeling the heat of the approaching flamethrowers at his back. The car started to move, so fucking slowly, and he shouted to Levy to pop the clutch. It shouldn't have worked, but it was their only shot. As the engine finally sputtered into life, he shouted at them to go, and felt the searing flames lick at the back of his neck.
The car disappeared into the smoke, and Doyle did his best to black the fuck out. But a cold, bare hand grabbed his and yanked him to the left, down a side street and into the darkness. She told him to run and he obeyed, following the dark hair as it whipped around behind her head. He was hyperventilating, had been sure he was going to die messy and screaming, and the blistering agony at the back of his neck told him that he hadn't just been fucking hallucinating.
They ran and they ran, the woman not stopping to check he was keeping up as they rounded corner after corner and disappeared out of sight of the advancing soldiers. Doyle had no idea where they were, but she seemed to know was she was doing, and all he could do was trust in that. They heard the hissing and gurgling sounds of an infected ahead of them and she stopped in her tracks. Doyle's hands went immediately to his M4, but she shoved him back.
The monster saw them, head twitching to the side in some kind of fucked up leer, and started running straight at them. The woman stood her ground, unsheathed her machete from the side of her pack and stepped forward. She pivoted, sank the weapon into the monster's gut, turning aside to protect her face from the spray of infected blood and the gnashing of teeth. The infected lost balance and fell back, still thrashing, and the woman pulled the machete free and battered it into the creature's skull until it stopped moving. The night descending into silence again, and she stepped back, holding her weapon clear of her body as it dripped with infected blood.
"Guns are loud," she muttered towards him as she tore a piece of rag out of her pack, wiped down her machete and threw the fabric aside. She checked her hands and arms to make sure they were clean of blood, then adjusted the pack on her back.
"Good luck," she said over her shoulder, turning to leave.
"Wait up!" Doyle called, hurrying to catch up as she turned another winding corner. "We should stick together. It's safer."
She stopped walking and turned towards him, raised her machete and pointed it at his chest. "Back off," she warned, and Doyle raised his hands in surrender. "I don't take in strays."
"Look," he said, trying to keep his voice level as he saw the woman contemplate whether she could slit his throat faster than he could raise his weapon. "Look, who knows how many of us are left?"
"Fewer than there would have been if you hadn't started shooting anything that moved," she replied, and Doyle winced at the hard truth. "Shouldn't you still be up there? Or maybe one of the ones holding the flamethrower?"
"We were trying to contain it," Doyle said. Knew it sounded pathetic. "What else could we have done?"
"You keep telling yourself that, soldier," the woman said, her eyes as hard as he'd ever seen them. "Just do it somewhere else, please, because I don't care."
"You saved my life," Doyle said, not giving up. "You could have been burned alive with me. Fuck, I have no idea how we weren't. Why would you do that if you don't even fucking care? If you're just gonna fucking leave me here?"
"Come on, big brave soldier," she said, her voice full of malice as she mocked him. To his American ear, the British accent made her words sound even colder. "You've got your big gun, and all your professional training. And balls that were apparently big enough to joke about the infected when it was all still just a game to you." Doyle looked away at that, ashamed.
"You don't need me," she went on. "And I don't need you. So just leave me the hell alone." And with that, she walked around another corner, and out of his sight.
