Outbreak


3. The Ambush


"Beans?"

The impatient whisper was the only sound to be heard within the empty supermarket. Here could be found aisle upon aisle of rotting groceries, abandoned trolleys and shelves of dusty tins and boxes. The check-out tills were without their usual, endless rhythm of beeps. The automatic doors failed to slide. Assistance was never offered by a keen member of staff and no tinny announcements were made to declare a spillage on aisle three. Excluding the hushed conversation that was currently taking place, the shop was utterly devoid of noise.

"I don't like beans." Was the blunt reply.

The words and tone were harsh but never reached a volume higher than an irritated hiss. Anything more would be enough to attract unwanted attention. Among other things, their enemies were equipped with inhumanly sensitive hearing to make up for their lack of sight. That, they had learned, was how they located their prey. So the argument was kept as quiet as possible.

"Could you stop being so awkward?"

Getting to the supermarket undetected had only been one of a great many hurdles. As well as being surrounded by the blind, wandering infected, it was miles away from their home, being the closest store still intact. Most of the food was in no condition to eat and, even if it was, they barely had the space in their bags to hold enough to last them long. And yet somehow, the lack of variety still managed to cause disagreements over what and what not to get.

"They make me feel sick." Gabriella pouted and clutched her stomach for emphasis.

The playfully childish expression on her face vastly contradicted her body and matured state of mind. The eight months had done little to change her physically but there was a wisdom in her eyes beyond her years. Her messy waves of long, dark hair hung way past her shoulders in two loose plaits held down by a khaki peaked beanie. She was dressed in a flattering, violet coloured woman's tracksuit with a discrete sparkled design and comfortable but shabby sneakers.

"And besides," she added as she let the strap of her oversized hiking backpack slide off her shoulder and into her hand. "There's no space left in the bag."

That was no lie. It was packed to capacity with tin cans and crumpled packets and bottles. They had grabbed whatever they could from the shelves, rarely questioning its taste or, even less important, number of calories. Getting food was no longer a matter of choice or opinion. It was vital. They had to make-do with anything they could get their hands on. Even if, like Gabriella, it could make them feel sick. But just existing on these tasteless, sickly rations was quickly losing appeal. And it was only now that Gabriella realised, she'd had enough.

Taylor reached for bag with impatience. In her other hand, she precariously balanced three tins of baked beans. "We'll make space." She stated adamantly.

With a concentrative frown on her face Gabriella pulled away. She looked upwards, like an animal suddenly aware of danger. Taylor too sensed an unseen, unheard threat and unknowingly edged closer to her friend.

"Come on, Gabi." She insisted, readopting the quiet whisper she had lost in the heat of the moment. "We don't have time--."

Gabriella put a finger to her lips.

The soft, padded sound of bare feet on the linoleum floor was barely audible even in the silence. Peering through the gaps in the shelves, the girls could just make out a dirty figure, roaming just an aisle away from them. If not for his blank, expressionless eyes, he may have seemed to be browsing the store. Looking for a meal. Little did he know that the meat he craved was nothing but a few feet away.

The Unspeakables were witless. They were creatures without brains, and with only one sole purpose; to feed. Something in the virus destroyed their sight so their eyes were nothing more than unnerving orbs of grey. Although still human in shape and face, the infected had an undeniably lifeless appearance. Their faded skin was dirty and drawn, hair hung in thin, wiry knots and limbs were bony and misshapen. They didn't walk. Rather, wander aimlessly with heavy, trudging footsteps. They didn't breathe, but inhaled ragged gasps of air like old asthmatics. Their backs were always hunched and their view-less gaze remained always on the ground. Their clothes were filthy and torn and stained with blood. A single look at them would give you the impression that they were fragile. Harmless, even. But this was them on stand-by. The slightest hint of food would send them into a rage and transform them completely.

When hunting, they were like animals. They snapped to life with a sudden urgency. They sprinted, although rabidly and without control, at an unbelievable pace. Their gangly arms flailed, brandishing the inch-long, dagger-like claws that armed each finger. They chattered their gleaming jaws with famine, resembling the madness of a killer shark, and all of their movements were wild and unpredictable. The biggest weapon by far, however, was their saliva.

If any of their saliva got into your bloodstream, you were done for. That was it. Your destiny was sealed. Either the thing would continue to devour you until you were nothing but bones, or you'd end up just like them. Infected. There was no cure.

Excluding the night of the outbreak, this was the closest either girl had been to an Unspeakable. A fear swelled in them like nothing else imaginable. The smell of death hung on his rancid breath.

Taylor and Gabriella shared a glance at each other and simultaneously began to back slowly away. Over the months, time together had established an unspoken connection where they could easily understand each other without words. That said, it wouldn't have taken a genius to know what they both had in mind. Escape.

The silent trip to the emergency exit was the longest and most strenuous walk they had ever endured, simply due to the care with which they had to take each and every step. When they finally reached the large, blue double-doors, their relief barely got a chance to exist.

Taylor pushed on the metal bar marked 'Push'. The door should have opened. It did not. She shot Gabriella a panicked look before pushing again. Gabriella peered out at the supermarket, praying that the door would open before they were found. Her prayer was declined. Instead, she received something that not even her nightmares could conjure up.

It was only a sound. But it was enough. Footsteps. But not just of the one man they had seen before. No, these were many feet. Sprinting feet. Pitter-pattering a freakish, frantic rhythm.

Taylor must have heard it too because she disregarded her attempts of staying silent and began to pound the metal bar that kept them from freedom. The echoes of her desperate, sobbing breaths and the constant thud, thud, thud each time her hands plummeted to the metal, reverberated through every crack of the building.

The footsteps were nearing now and hope was disappearing. Gabriella wondered how this had happened so suddenly. It was just another trip out to the shop. And now, out of nowhere, they were about to be eaten alive. The eight months she had spent, 'just existing' had shielded her from the ideas of death. Locked up in their home, surviving, she had slowly adopted the idea that, having survived for so long, being caught at all would be unlikely. She'd even had the ludicrous idea that maybe, just maybe, the virus would die. One day, everything would be back to normal. Because, if not, why was she bothering to stay alive?

"I'll fend them off." She declared to Taylor, her voice hard and sure.

They had made a pact, a long time ago, that if a situation like this did arise, they would not go down without a fight. No way.

"No…" Taylor protested, speaking a word between each powerful thrust at the door. "Gabi… run…. Find… another… way!"

Her hands were red by now, and throbbing due to the force at which she had been repeatedly driving them into the metal bar. Her frenzied movements had been enough to jar her jaw-length hair out of its neat-ish state, free of the thick headband that had held it back and it now clung to her sweaty forehead in frazzled wisps. She wore a tight, black t-shirt under a leather jacket that stopped around her waist. Her denim shorts were torn to a length above the knee and her feet were donned with sneakers similar to Gabriella's.

"I said… go!" She barked at an unmoved Gabriella.

The order went unheard. The Unspeakables were finally no longer just an approaching sound. They were visible now. Bounding, like rabid dogs, straight towards them. Gabriella reached for the baseball bat that was strapped to the top of her bag. It was heavy and wooden and sat uncomfortably in her hand. Taking a deep breath, she imagined herself, her fearless self, taking on this onslaught; beating them all down with one successful blow. Saving them both.

A quick count told her that there were six of them. The fearless version of herself, the one in her mind, disappeared. Now all she could see was a brutal death. The end of them both.

Taylor was crying with regret and fear. She didn't want her life to end here, like this. But what choice did she have? All she could hope for now is that they would finish her off and not let her become one of them.

A chorus of monstrous shrieks began to sound, merging with the footsteps into a song of impending death. It was almost as if they were celebrating a successful hunt. Or perhaps alerting others of their kind to a fresh catch.

Then there was another yelp behind Taylor and Gabriella fell to the ground at her feet. Following her with a regretful series of clattering clunks, was the unused baseball bat. Turning from the door finally, Taylor was met with the sight of six ravenous faces, eyeing her with desire. She risked a glance at Gabriella, who lay frighteningly motionless on the floor. A wound on her head was leaking blood onto the white linoleum and staining her hat. For a moment, Taylor cast a thought to what might have happened to her best friend while her back was turned.

She knew it was only a matter of time before one of the creatures gave in to the restrain of hesitation and went for her, but even as the closest one suddenly leapt into a lunge at her, she couldn't help but scream.

A black ghost blew past on a gust of wind and swept her attacker away. The smell of insect repellent was in the air and she could hear a familiar hissing noise. The shrieks returned. This time, not with triumph, but pain. And then the sound of quietening footsteps as the Unspeakables retreated in agony. In a matter of seconds, they disappeared into the foggy, white mist. She was left now with only the gargling of the savage that had lunged at her, writhing on the floor. He clutched his neck as it squirted random bursts of blood. Although blank, his eyes were frantic. And, at once, he seemed so vulnerable. Such chaos. Such fear.

Such confusion.

What had just happened? In the space of, at most, five seconds, she'd gone from near-death, to foggy bug spray and six injured enemies. Reluctantly, she told herself to make it make sense later. For now, she had to deal with this miracle advantage and get herself and Gabriella out of there. While they still could.

Looking to her feet, Gabriella's limp body was still there. The pool of blood around her head was much larger now and just seeing it made Taylor gasp. She had never seen Gabriella in such a dire state and her initial thought was that she may even be dead.

She wasn't sure how she planned on getting Gabriella all the way home but she decided she'd come up with it later. Bending down, she prepared herself to lift her friend.

Something pulled her upright. Only briefly, but when she looked down again, all that was left of Gabriella was a smeared blood puddle. Her heart stopped. Physically stopped. Her best-friend was gone. And she was so confused. And that loud pounding wasn't helping.

There was a cracking sound as the door gave way under the heavy, kicking foot of its assailant. Out of nowhere, something warm was in Taylor's hand and she was being pulled into the street.

She pulled away, looking frantically for her friend. Her hand was occupied again and, this time when she tried to pull away, she could not. Her arm was being tugged so hard that she had to follow. Either that or have it ripped off completely. But that did not stop her from writhing and screaming. There was no way she was leaving Gabriella. Whatever the hell was going on, she was not leaving Gabriella.

"We've got your friend." The deep voice came from the owner of the hand that was in hers.

Looking around her, she discovered that she was outside. There was a man beside her dressed in black and another in running in front with Gabriella hanging loosely in his arms. They were sprinting at a pace she never thought she could reach. A tug of the hand would pull her around corners, into darkened alleys and further from the main road. She stumbled at least seven times on the cracked pavement.

Not a word was spoken between her and her saviour. She found herself watching the back of the man ahead, making sure he was gentle with Gabriella. As adrenaline wore off, she found herself increasingly puzzled.

Who were these people? Where were they going? How had they found her? What had happened in the supermarket was starting to make sense. The black ghost had been the blur of this man. This man who, with his companion, had helped her and Gabriella escape by defeating the Unspeakables with… bug spray and by booting down the door that she could not open.

They'd been running forever. Her lungs were screaming. Her thoughts were screaming. All she could think was that there were other survivors. She even allowed a flittering thought to go to her boyfriend who, maybe wasn't dead as she presumed.

The man in black must have heard her gasping for air because he wrapped an arm around her and helped her to run. "Not far now." He assured her. She smiled, despite herself, finding comfort in his mellow tone and half-embrace.

The shadow of a large building darkened the pavement beneath her. And suddenly, the floor was no longer flat concrete. She was bounding up a flight of black, metal emergency exit stairs. Before she knew it, she was thrust carelessly against a wall as the man in black fumbled with a metal door. She bent at the hips, hands on her knees panting at the ground. The taste of blood swelled at the back of her chest and she could hear the unnaturally fast rhythm of her heartbeat in her ears. All of her limbs were on fire, her muscles screaming and the soles of her feet throbbing.

"Come on, man!"

She looked up to see the other guy looking around wildly. A navy blue bandana covered the lower half of his face, so all she could see were his darting eyes. He carried Gabriella with disregard, like she was a nothing more than a ragdoll in his muscled arms. She dangled from his hold, looking peacefully unaware of her situation. A thin trail of blood had formed a red line from one side of her temple, across her forehead and into her eye. Half of her khaki hat was stained crimson.

There was a churning as the door slid open and, in an instant, they were in. She was hit with humidity, darkness and a smell of damp. Behind her, the door was closed. And locked.

Gabriella's limp body was dumped carelessly on the faded sofa. Bandana-face sank to the floor, resting his head in his hands and elbows on his knees. His back heaved as he sucked in generous gulps of air.

"God, that was close." He repeated in an exhausted whisper.

Too tired for anything, it was silently agreed between them that introductions could wait. Taylor stepped forward to cross the room and check on her unconscious friend. Without the blood, Gabriella would have appeared to be sleeping. However, the fact that she had not yet awoken, even in all the action, intensely troubled and concerned Taylor. Head wounds could be serious and she had no means to treat it. Their first-aid kit was back at home. At home. Which must have been miles away from here.

And where the hell was here, anyway?

The guy on the floor looked up to the sound of Taylor approaching. The second his blue eyes met her face, it was as if something snapped within his mind. He got to his feet at such a desperately impulsive speed that Taylor felt the need to take a step back to defend herself. He pored over her with his fervent and burning gaze, then blinked and turned his attention to Gabriella.

"It can't be." He told himself in a hushed voice.

His gloved hand reached out and gently traced Gabriella's cheek. Taylor felt bile rise in her throat along with doubt and fear. Behind her, the guy in black was standing intimately close, breathing down her neck. Only now did she realise that she was locked in this room. With two strange men. And no chance of rescue. She was trapped.

She stepped forward again, ready to assert herself and order this man to get his grimy hands off her best friend. "Don't touch her." Her hand fell to her waistband where she kept a small kitchen knife for protection.

He looked up at her again. Behind the bandana, something in the sincerity of this guys glistening, blue eyes momentarily reassured her. Something in the familiarity. In compliance, his fingers quickly retracted from Gabriella's skin. His hand continued to travel upward until it reached his masked face. With no effort at all, he removed the navy blue bandana to reveal the bright smile beneath.

Taylor could not believe her eyes. Her first and only thought was that this was a hallucination. A dream, maybe. Perhaps, back in the supermarket, she had suffered a blow to the head and now her mind was playing tricks on her due to concussion. Or her fatigue mixed with lack of hope had conjured up this imaginary image of what she wanted most. Because there was no way this was real. No way. It was unlikely enough that she had found other survivors. Even more unlikely that she knew them. And unlikelier still that they were—

She turned around. If this was real- if that was… Troy- then surely, the man in black must have been Chad. Chad; whose death she'd grieved a long time ago.


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