A Chance Partnership
Justin brought his shotgun to bear and instantly took aim at Sergei.
"Now," Sergei said, "I'm in a pretty position here, ain't I? Even with that gauge pointed at my face, I could demand any number of things out of you. My weapons returned to me. Your plans for routing the promised supplies toward my encampments. But I think not. I think our little game of cat and mouse ends here. You're going to take me straight to the stock yard and unlock all the treasures inside of it."
Down the length of the smooth barrel, Justin could make out the upper half of his face through the front iron sights— along with that typical glimmer in his coal-black eyes. Justin didn't answer right away, but not because he didn't know how to respond. It was because Sergei—a God among lesser men—actually seemed quite insignificant this instant. Even though the warlord had taken it upon himself to show up here and complete the deal—taking young, defenseless Chris and everyone else hostage in the process—Justin surprisingly had bigger threats to consider.
They were crawling closer by the second.
He glanced out the one-way window into the factory floor. The damned bay doors took their sweet time closing. "Son of a bitch." Justin said absentmindedly.
"Yes, that's right." Sergei mocked in reply as all other assailants began to grin. It was then that he pressed his sidearm into the small of Chris' back for emphasis. "But fretting does you no good and I don't sympathize with enemies. I want my supplies. Drop your weapon before I'm forced to take away someone close to you."
The one-eyed elderly man who Justin fought a few nights ago was also here, brandishing a pistol, pressing it into dear Bill's temple. Justin glanced out once again to the factory entrance. Squinting, he could make out the pale, flesh-colored skin of the writhing mass, crawling so gracefully that they might as well have been hovering. The creatures were upon the threshold to the bay, no intention of stopping despite the massive doors coming to a pinch. Only a handful of them would make it through before the rest got squeezed to their basic body parts. This gave Justin some measure of reassurance. He could deal with a few of the bastards if need be.
Now, all sounds inside the break room seemed drowned out as Justin focused in on the first creature to breach the bay. In fact, the voice inside his head was now totally inaudible as his very breath hung on the outcome.
The first one made it past the transition and skittered on its feeler limbs towards the interior.
And as fate would have it, it tripped the proximity safety sensors inside the door sill and the entry way halted briefly in place before screeching open once again. They flooded through.
Only Justin had any idea on what would transpire next. He now took his eyes off the parting entrance and placed them to the assembly line where people had always labored. Not many of them ever really spoke to one another throughout the day. It was usually all business on the factory floor. But when any of the workers did speak, it was all from the heart. No one here ever had hidden agendas. They were as honest as could be, stealing only what they needed to survive and occasionally seek serenity in their tortured lives. Death was now the only release awaiting them.
The poor, innocent factory workers nearby were just fresh meat—and they didn't even know it.
Justin glanced back to all his friends in front of him, scared out of their minds, yet unaware of what loomed beyond. It was lose-lose for them all, now.
"Game over." Justin mumbled.
The only ones he could ever hope to call friends were doomed by his actions.
Justin then locked eyes with Sergei, gazed straight into him, giving him a smile only the Devil himself could understand.
Basking in his ultimate defeat, though, something became apparent to Justin as he stared into Sergei's eyes. Almost as suddenly as he realized the awful act about to occur just outside the break room, he knew it could also be the olive branch to his immediate enemy. Surely, the creatures now infiltrating the factory would turn all those in it into death-seekers. There was no stopping that. Consequently, everyone inside the break room would be cornered after the blood bath was over. That meant the biggest threat would soon be these creatures, not thugs and gangsters.
He looked back into the bay once again.
Traxus IX's employees worked hard. And not just now—they worked hard day in and day out. They earned an honest living like no other in the universe. They were laborers with dirty hands and a clean conscience. In the midst of Justin's mind-numbing remorse for all those about to be devoured, he smiled knowing that something yet again worked in his favor—that whatever God there was out there would shortly drag along this puppet show along one more time and spare him. In his earliest days at Traxus IX, Justin had protected them. Now, it was their time to return the favor. Those poor, brave souls out there were now his saviors, his sacrificial lambs—each and every precious one of them.
But it was all for naught if Justin couldn't facilitate the opportunity he saw materializing. He had to convince his enemies to form a team. He himself had to be the catalyst for it to work.
"Are you paying attention?!" Sergei shouted.
Justin lowered his weapon with haunted eyes and half a smile, ever glancing out the window.
"Now," Sergei said, "we complete the deal. You will take me to the weapons stockpile, and after that I'll decide if I still need you."
Boldly, Justin looked back to him. "Oh, I think we'll all need each other now." He pointed out the window. "Take a look."
Justin's timing couldn't have been more picture perfect—literally. The parasitic monsters had amassed near the first line of conveyors, picking their targets in earnest. It was time. And Sergei and everyone else in the room had front row seats to the horror show.
They lashed out one by one.
Helpless, innocent victims fell under their razor-tipped tentacles, totally taken by surprise.
Like a tempest wave, the chaos instantly spread. Before most of the workers even knew there was an alien presence in the factory, they were attacked with overwhelming force. Because of this, there was no escape for them. The creatures devoured every living thing in sight, wave after wave of them crawling further into the complex like the footsteps of a trampling titan, inexorable and true. They crawled on the floor, they crawled along the walls, the support girders and the trusses overhead, swarming every nook and cranny to consume their prey from all imaginable vectors.
As Justin focused in on one particular victim, coincidentally everyone else inside the break room did too. He was right outside, hands pressed against and clawing at the glass. It was a middle-aged man probably in his fifties with bright, blonde hair and brawny arms. He hadn't one chance to stand against that onslaught as four or five of the critters engulfed him, their exact number too difficult to ascertain as they moved so swiftly. One of them instantly punctured a large hole into his chest and burrowed inside as the other ones scrambled further onward. In an instant, it seemed, he was resurrected from the creature within after a fit of intense, convulsive thrashing on the epoxy-resin floor.
Those fortunate few positioned further down the assembly line unknowingly inherited a morsel of precious time. Time enough to witness the horrors in the distance. They made a run for it, God only knew where to. Anywhere but here.
Blood spurted. Bodies crashed to the ground. Rib cages shattered as the parasites forced themselves into their new hosts. It all happened in the same amount of time it took a person to conjure a memory. The entire scene was magnificent as it was terrifying, the taken bodies wasting no time and now chasing after the living. They followed them to the end of the line, running outside, until they completely vanished from sight and sound. They'd follow them into eternity.
All was quiet as the workers fled in panic, a horde of zombies chasing. That left one or two of them lurking around the interior with nothing to do, as well as a host of the smaller, multi-legged variety at their feet.
Justin inhaled deeply through the nose and slowed his breathing, then looked back at everyone else in the room.
One of Sergei's men lost aim on one of his captives and fumbled with his weapon, eyes darting all across the surface of the window pane. "What the hell is this?!"
Justin replied instantly, "It's exactly what you think it is."
The captor looked to Justin, saw nothing in his eyes. He then looked outward, then back to Justin, back to the bay, lips pursed.
"I think you'll want to let us all go. It's all about survival now."
Sergei tore his awestruck gaze away from the window and instantly composed himself. "You are in no position to dictate terms here." He said, managing to match Justin's cool.
"No. 'Cause do you see what's happening here? I'll tell you what's happening here. The way I see it, we have two choices now. We can keep playing our game. You can head to the 'Yard, take what you need, take on those things alone while you bust outta here. Or," Justin placed his hands on his hips and gestured to the window from over his shoulder, "we can place a gun in the hands of every rotten son-of-a-bitch in this room and fight these things together. Only then can we actually survive this. Greater numbers equals more guns, equals greater chance of survival."
The warlord glared at Justin, but behind that glare there was a great deal of thought. Justin could practically see neurons firing behind his eyes.
Justin preempted the direction of the conversation. "You just saw how quickly those things can kill. What'll it be? Temporary truce?"
Sergei once again looked out the window, thankful for the fact that it was opaque to the creatures outside. The bodies that turned just moments ago had sprouted several whip-like tentacles from their forearms. Slick globs of blood soaked them from the carnage they'd produced a moment ago.
"Temporary." He answered.
"Good." Justin addressed the room with his head up high and his voice loud and clear. He quickly bent down and picked his shotgun off the floor. "Everyone play nice…and work together! We can kill ourselves later. Right now, we have to kill them to survive. Everyone grab a weapon. We're not staying here much longer."
"We're safe in here," one of the Kaiser's men said, "so why leave?"
"How long do you think we'll last with no food and water?"
"But they'll eventually wander away. They don't know we're in here, and we'll be free to go when they lose interest. We've got weapons regardless."
"That's exactly my point. We have the weapons to take them out now before they spread even further. You're right, they will eventually leave. But when we meet them again, it'll be too big a threat to make a stand against…and there'll be nowhere to hide. We have to put a stop to this now."
"What makes you so adamant?" Sergei asked.
"Because they won't stop. Their only purpose is to kill."
"You've dealt with them before?"
"Remember? Spiders?" Justin stood idly for a moment and watched cautiously as the hostile men in the room reluctantly placed a gun or two in the hands of their hostages, at which point Bill declined the offer.
Justin reached in his pocket, grabbed a handful of shotgun shells and started feeding them into the receiver one by one. Once full, he racked a round and placed another into the receiver to fill it completely.
"You were empty." Sergei stated. "You came in here dry."
Justin smiled.
"Now that's a poker face you can't fuck with." Joe quipped.
It was all worked out. Nearly every person in the break room now had a weapon in their clutches. A single, cohesive group, more or less on Justin's lead, was armed to the teeth despite uneasy stares emanating from both sides.
"Holy shit," Joe suddenly blurted as he inspected a pistol up close, then whispered, "this is a Nineteen-Eleven."
"And what is that?" Ken asked after he pivoted about to face him.
Joe looked up and noticed the wary stare from him. "Sorry," Joe said as he set the firearm gently down on a table, "it's a World War Two vintage. Forty-five cal, two-toned finish. Very rare. Very reliable."
Ken pursed his chin and nodded. "Looks heavy."
"It's in excellent shape. Who's is this?" Joe's gaze wandered around the room.
"That'd be mine." Sergei announced.
"I almost don't even want to fire this."
"Then don't." Sergei smiled callously. "In fact, I'd appreciate it if you didn't."
"Well, unless they come for me personally, consider it a virgin."
"I'm good to go." Justin announced as he procured a weapon strap from Ken, who preferred to hoist his MA5B at Port Arms rather than sling it over his shoulder. Justin fastened it to both ends of the shotgun and draped it loosely over his back, the barrel pointing upwards. The two submachine guns that Sergei himself lent him rested on a table, fully loaded with extra mags already deep in his pockets. "Is everyone else satisfied?" He asked impatiently.
No one answered.
"Good. Now if we can make it to the vehicles, there are extra shotguns there, courtesy of Paulie and his goons .So, if no one has any objections, we're gonna storm outta here in about two minutes and we're gonna make a dash for the Mongooses or whatever vehicles are still left out there. Where we go is really a result of what we deal with once we get outside. I know of a few safe places if it all goes to hell, but it all depends."
"Depends on what?" Joe asked.
"On how well we work together and survive."
With that, everyone made final preparations. They each went through the arduous task of loading round after individual round into magazines, and with the magazines still separated, they dry-fired their weapons. All the mechanical parts of each weapon seemed to be in good working order despite the hostile treatment they received over the years of residing in Traxus IX climate. So they began to chamber rounds.
Justin took notice of one of Sergei's men, particularly the way he favored a grip over some weapon.
"You ever fire that thing?"
"Uh, no."
"God damnit, then keep your finger off that trigger until you're ready to fire the fucker. And...holy shit...is your safety off?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"You will take the safety off when you're ready to fire!" Justin scolded him with fiery eyes. "Who the hell taught you to shoot, Dick Cheney?"
"Who the hell is Dick Cheney?"
"Exactly. Keep the safety on at all times unless you plan to kill or maim something! Hell, I'm already draggin' one kid around here. What do I gotta do, tie your shoes for you?!"
There was nothing uttered as Justin held his hard gaze. The man didn't respond, just simply complied and flicked the safety lever on with an angered demeanor.
Chris couldn't help but grin.
"And don't even get me started on you." Justin turned to Chris. "Do you even know how to work this? Gimme that thing."
Justin snatched a pistol from Chris' hands. "Uh-huh, M6G Magnum, UNSC standard issue. We'll see if you can handle the recoil. In the meantime, try not to shoot anyone in the back like Cheney over there."
While everyone was getting ready to make their run, Joe took the opportunity to approach Justin—who noticed something intent in the marooned commander's eyes as he neared.
"What is it, Hendricksson?"
"Hey," Joe whispered, "you're not thinking of sticking with these guys, are you?"
"Not if I can help it." Justin replied. "But until we can get to a safe place, we'll need them around for the firepower and ammo—they brought plenty of it. First chance we get though, we'll leave them. Or we'll kill them if we have to. Tell the others to stick close together and wait for my signal, because we'll need to act at a moment's notice. We'll only get one chance."
"That makes me feel a whole lot better."
"Glad to hear it." Justin said. He walked off and placed his hand on the doorknob.
"Wait!" someone shouted.
Justin looked over to who it was—the crippled, elderly man named Jaggo. Terror had engulfed his one eye. "Not yet." he said, unholstering a weapon. "Okay, okay, now I'm ready."
"Oh, good, I am so glad that you are now ready. You and your superior fighting skill." Justin said. "I was doubtful we'd make it outta here, but now I'm comforted that you are finally ready."
Jaggo scoffed back.
Everyone gathered around the door in a single file line. Justin looked back at them all and evaluated their appearance. Though, demeanor alone couldn't reveal one's will to cope and survive—at least not all of the time. He said, "I know this sounds strange, but cover each other's asses. Look out for one another. Everyone of us we lose is another one gained for them, so don't get complacent. These things come out of the woodwork like a pissed-off army of fire ants. Reload fast. Aim for the chest; that's where they like to settle in."
Justin opened the door.
And the monsters were immediately alerted to their presence. They charged.
Justin bounded down the short set of steps leading up to the break room and found himself stunned at how fast the zombies were. One such creature was already within spitting distance by the time he set foot on the bay floor. He instantly dropped his twin SMGs and reached for his shotgun. Just before it was too late, he fired a slug into the zombie's torso, a thunderous echo filling the factory as the attacker staggered. A gaping hole erupted from its back, taking out much of the victim's spine as well as the parasite clinging to it. Bone fragments and pulverized organs smacked on the smooth floor, glistening in the overhead fluorescence. More zombies appeared at the entrances, attracted by the mayhem, charging their way in.
Justin bent down and scooped his primary guns off the floor and sent them blazing at full auto, peppering as many of the crawling parasites possible while all the others sent a myriad of projectiles in all directions, all directed at the larger threats.
Justin felt comforted by the sight of a handful of zombies falling, but just like them his elation soon plummeted to the ground as the sound of gunfire was no longer prevalent in the cavernous bay.
Silence. Not a sound in the bay expect the sickness of slimy feet and tentacles skittering across the floor to meet them.
Justin looked back: everyone was reloading after expending all their ammunition.
"God damnit, stagger your fire!" He shouted. "I should not hear silent weapons!"
He reached for his shotgun and took out two zombies on approach, totally unaided of cover fire for the moment. That left five more shots until reload, with four new zombies entering the side entrance. He wished then that the others would be more cognizant of weapon protocol like he was, but this was no time to give a crash course in battle doctrine. They were all struggling as it was.
And even though they were dishing out a healthy beating to the oncoming parasite hordes thus far, only more and more of them showed up to the firefight—as though they were multiplying for every one extinguished. The parasite onslaught was already wearing their defenses.
"We can't sit here! We need to move!" Justin said as he became pitilessly aware of that fact.
He rose from his crouch and trotted in the general direction of the vehicles—racking and firing, racking and firing. Blast after blast of the 8-gague shotgun sent his targets to the ground. This time, with ample and staggered covering fire from the others, he had the freedom to reload without consequence. Just then, he looked up and found a clutch of crawling parasites loitering around the group of vehicles near the entrance. Cautious to make sure that no zombies were on approach, he grabbed his SMGs and poured everything he could into them, without hitting the ATVs. The mass of infectious creatures did more work than Justin did to alleviate them, for each one that received hits instantly popped into fleshy tendrils that started a chain reaction. They all exploded into stringy, wet ribbons. This was good for ammo conservation.
He reached full view of the bay doors and looked outside.
The courtyard was filled with chaos and death. Factory workers had stumbled outside from the other complex as well, running and fleeing for their lives. Zombies and parasites and terrified people were everywhere. It was quite clear that the creatures had infiltrated most of the populated centers of the city, and quite possibly all of the city. It seemed as though the only beings with any clue were Justin and those he led. "Everyone get over here!" Justin shouted. "Give me some cover and make sure they don't get inside!"
But they already were inside. There were too many entrances to cover, such as the ones farther down the complex, out of range. The factory was indeed surrounded. But with suppressive fire, each person eventually made their way to the group of vehicles at the main entrance, a place where they could form a sort of phalanx around Justin—provide spherical coverage.
Unbeknownst to Justin, though, a trio of zombies were hugging the outside wall. Attracted by the noise, they were creeping closer to the entrance where he resided just inside.
He walked over to where he laid down the fuel canisters and started to fill his vehicle up.
"What are you doing?" the Kaiser asked.
"We won't get very far without fuel in our tanks." Justin replied.
The Kaiser resumed fire, content with what Justin said. It was him, Chris and most of his men shooting out into the courtyard at any zombie that so much as looked in their general direction. For now, the townspeople running wild out there were the creatures' main source of food, and it kept them occupied and oblivious to Justin—tending to the ATVs.
The three zombies on a mission crept closer, just outside the periphery of Chris' and Sergei's vision. They stealthily reached the lip of the threshold. A tentacle appeared at the opening and it lashed out.
One of Kaiser's men fell from a vicious swipe to the chest, a fatal wound. Blood gushed out like flood waters from a breached levy. The follow through from such a powerful blow caught the Kaiser as well.
"AHHHH!" he screamed.
Chris wheeled around just in time to see that three of the humanoid monsters were right upon him. All the men around him were either on the ground or awestruck. He lifted up the pistol without thought and squeezed off three rounds. And three zombies instantly fell to the concrete, crashing down limply right next to the Kaiser's feet.
It was over. Chris, wide-eyed, stared at the pistol in his hands—still vibrating from the recoil.
"Good shooting, kid." Sergei said, picking himself up.
"You're bleeding." Chris replied.
"Just a scratch." Sergei said, regarding his forearm.
Inside, the picture looked a little clearer. Hendricksson, Ken and a few of the Kaiser's men actually surmounted over the wavering pockets of creatures pouring in from any available opening, but they kept coming from every direction. The only reason Joe and everyone else was still alive was that they had an overwhelming amount of firepower on their side. At any rate, Joe surmised that they were actually cleaning up and decided to step to the entrance and help out Chris and Sergei. Before he could do so, Justin pulled on one of his pant legs—he was clearly agitated while he fueled up the ATVs.
Justin's mind was in three places: at his hands pouring the fuel; to every facility entrance; and to Joe. He shouted amidst all the gunfire, "They're coming from everywhere! This city is overrun! We have to make for the Lookout Tower! Or we're dead!"
"Where's that?"
"At the foot of the courtyard. Tallest structure in the inner sanctum. You can't miss it."
"What's there?"
"A better view." Justin waved him off. "Keep giving me cover, take my SMGs. Won't be much longer."
And Joe proceeded outside to lend an extra set of guns to the fight. As he neared the entrance, the giant square outside filled his vision. "My God." he whispered, looking over the carnage-filled expanse. Bodies—living, dead, or undead—were everywhere. Whether they were broken and strewn about the immense concrete slab, or whether they were running mad, the place was a zoo. "What is going on here?" he whispered.
He shook it off and dug in with Chris and Sergei, picking targets diligently where it mattered—often the enemies within closest proximity.
Things were copasetic for the time being. The influx of zombies and parasites was currently just a steady ebb and surge, like the entire mass of them behaved as one in their quest for flesh. But this was only from their point of view. The zombie situation across the courtyard was something entirely different.
Just then, a bang resounded off every surface, deafening everyone momentarily. And a plume of heat engulfed the entrance, as did a concussive wave. Glaring red light saturated the courtyard, wavering from side to side.
The light's intensity oscillated as Joe peered across the way. Over the span of the entire vestibule, which was filled with pure and violent chaos, there was one human. They were pinned against the other factory's wall, hands clenched around the nozzle of a thick hose. They swept it side to side as flammable propellant spewed out of it, into the fray. Any parasitic creature within a 20-meter radius was sent ablaze by this lone survivor. Chris cheered at the site as reflections of crimson shone in his eyes.
"Now that's what I'm talking about!" shouted Joe. "Crispy critters, get 'em while they're hot!"
Justin peered around the edge of the entrance as the beautiful flames slithered side to side, glowing a pleasant amber-red. And in between each fiery swing of its undulation, he could see the face of its operator more clearly. He dropped the fuel container and stood up.
It was Layla.
Justin fired up a Mongoose, catching everyone's attention. Before they could even grasp what was going through his head, Justin blasted through the entrance straight into hell.
On his way out, any creature within arm's reach lashed out at him, some of them still on fire. Justin had speed and momentum on his side, but they were the only advantages against their elongated tentacle swipes. What it amounted to was misjudgment by the monsters, and thus hard striking at the farings on either side of the ATV. A few lucky ones found marks on Justin's legs, ripping through fabric and breaking skin. The velocity he possessed aboard the ATV only doubled the pain. He gritted teeth and kept his gaze trained ahead towards Layla, though. She was all alone.
She must've seen the ATV's headlights parting through the ash and chaos—she cut off the flow of Hydrogen to her nozzle, risking parasite retaliation. She was now on borrowed time as she waited for her savior. But the Mongoose only picked up more speed, mowing down any creature in its path. Justin approached fast.
With a forceful steering input at the last second, he jerked the ATV one way and nailed the emergency brake simultaneously, causing an oversteer that put the rear boot pad within good proximity of her. With only a slight loss in the Mongoose's speed, Layla jumped aboard and held on tight through the apex of the vehicle's power slide. She grabbed onto Justin's shoulders and ducked as low as possible while gouts of flame and crowds of tentacles lashed out at them.
Justin punched through the horde and found a relatively vacant area at the far side of the courtyard. Once safe, he slowed the ATV and righted it around, facing back to the zombies that plagued the courtyard—as if he were the wild bull making another pass.
Most of the zombies that chased the two of them had now placed their attention on the factory entrance where the others were shooting.
"Thanks for rescuing me." Layla said from over his shoulder.
"No problem."
"You're bleeding."
"No problem. What about you?"
"I'm fine. So what are we gonna do?"
"We're gonna get to a safer place."
"What about them?"
"They're on their own now. They know where to find us."