Righteous Anarchy
Chapter 5: Rescue?
Lilah sat on the couch, her hands over her ears and legs pulled tightly against her chest. The woman's eyes were screwed shut as she prayed over and over again, trying with all
her might to shut out the unearthly sounds coming from the door. She had tried to get out, but the door back into the residential area was jammed. It had a bad habit of doing
that every few days. Only this time there was no one on the other side that had listened to her pleas for help as she banged her small hands on the solid door. There were no
other doors out of the room except that one and the front entrance, where the sick man was trying to get in. He scared her. She wanted to help him, to cure him of his disease,
but he didn't listen to her when she spoke to him through the glass storm door, tinted red by the pawing of his bloody and raw hands. All he did was moan with an unholy hunger
and scrape his fingers across the glass in vain attempts to get inside, to get to her. There was a loud crash and tinkling of small glass fragments as the storm door shattered under
the sick man's incessant scouring. Now he was just on the other side of the wooden front door, only yards away from the frightened woman.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Lilah winced in fear each time it beat on the door, panic slowly rising in her chest. Like the clawed hand of a demon, the fingers of dread slowly wrapped around her young heart,
applying just a bit of pressure, increasing with each passing moment.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Her breathing steadily quickened as her strangled heart became more tightly gripped. Sweat moistened her palms, her hands slipping against each other as she clasped them
tightly together as she struggled to continue her prayer. Dampness beaded on her feverous brow, making her feel grimy and dirty. A wave of nausea passed over her as she curled
into a tight ball on the couch, feeling the rough material on her cheek send unpleasant tingling sensations radiating across her face.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Eyes shut to the world as each clout from the door reverberated through her terror-stricken mind. She was hyper-ventilating now, breaths coming and leaving in short, quick
gasps leaving her light headed as carbon dioxide invaded her lungs and oxygen became scarce in her brain as well as her other extremities.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Words of prayer formed on her now pale lips as sweat coated her face in a fine sheen reflecting the light of the overhead fixture, but instead they became a plea.
"Please stop...please, make it go away...someone help me...God, please help me..."
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
The silence seemed to mock her unanswered whimpering for aid, laughing at her as the woman's small body shuddered violently with chills and quiet sobs forced hot tears down
her reddening cheeks.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Lilah's weeping grew in volume, threatening to choke her, curled as she was in the fetal position, until she screamed, the fear clamping one cruel hand on her heart and the other
on her fragile mind. Then, they squeezed even tighter.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
(Page Break)
They hadn't followed him, well, that he knew of. Alex sighed as he walked cautiously back up Frankfort towards the Police Station. He was going to try the Manhattan Bridge next,
about half a mile's walk from where he was now. A sound permeated the muggy, early morning air. It was a continuous thumping, rhythmic beating at a mechanical pace coming
from the Jersey side of the island. Alex turned and looked up at the light gray sky to see the black shapes of helicopters, at least six of them bearing the Umbrella logo fly
overhead and disperse throughout the city. One headed southeast of him, just a block away. It was flying low, most likely for a landing.
UBCS...Umbrella's clean up crew...
More like containment...
Maybe they can help me get out of here. It is there job after all...
Their job is to cover Umbrella's mistakes, not help people...
It's worth a try...
It's your funeral...
Alex ignored the voice, knowing that he would rather be with guys with guns that might help him rather than lizard creatures with claws that were trying to kill him. He started
jogging to the end of the block, guessing that a right turn on Seaport would put him near wherever the chopper was landing. The man made his way past the NYPD, noting that
the undead were milling aimlessly on the grounds, moaning and groaning. He quickened his pace slightly. Once on Seaport, the sounds of the helicopter's engine gave him enough
direction. It had landed on top of a large apartment building to deposit its load of soldiers and that's where Alex marked his destination, and ticket to freedom. The entrance to the
building was less than a block away, but there was a slight problem.
Three of the walking dead were right at the way in. One had broken the glass storm door and was pounding at the wood before it, its hands smacking wetly on the hard surface
leaving red streaks and handprints. As Alex moved closer, he could hear a feminine voice inside, screaming hysterically.
Someone's lost it...
I still should help them...
It is on the way...
The two unoccupied corpses began their slow shuffle towards him, sightless eyes seeking him out as rotting hands mindlessly groped the air before them, reaching for their next
meal. Alex raised the shotgun awkwardly, unsure of how to position it with the wooden stock cracked. It hadn't fared well when he hit the reptilian thing upside its head with it. He
braced it against the base of his shoulder and pointed the barrel at the nearest target's head, thinking that was how the people in movies killed zombies so why not try it here. He
squeezed the trigger, blinking reflexively at the loud bang, and found himself shoved to the ground from the heavy kick back from the weapon. His ears rang from the gun's roar,
his right shoulder throbbed, and the entire arm tingled with the shock.
"That's gonna bruise..." Alex muttered to himself darkly as he sat up, slightly dazed. The corpse was now officially a corpse, the majority of its head now in small squishy pieces
scattered over the pavement. Its partner had also fallen to the black road, several pellets from the blast having bored into its decomposing brain. Alex looked to the remaining
assailant, who had ceased knocking on the door when it heard the gun discharge, from his position on the ground. It walked his way, stumbling on the curb and nearly falling in
the process.
Idiot! Are you going to stand up or sit on your ass like a good little person-burger!
Again, he ignored the voice, but still managed to get to his feet. He placed his legs at a wider stance and held the stock tighter against his shoulder this time before aiming at the
cadaver, not wanting to get knocked to his tail every time he fired the gun. Alex pumped the spent shell out and waited for the once-human creature to come closer. He had no
idea how many shells were already loaded, and had no extras with him, so he wanted to use as few as possible. When Bloody Hands was less than four feet away, he squeezed the
trigger. Again he winced at the explosion from the barrel, but he stayed upright this time and the zombie went down, lacking the right half of its head. The empty shell sprang
from the gun and clattered hollowly onto the road.
Alex let the gun hang in his right hand and probed the extensiveness of his bruised shoulder with the left while making his way to the door. It looked as if it was bleeding; taking
punishment to protect that which was within its confines. The thought made Alex shudder. Glancing around to see if there were any more threats, he opened the destroyed storm
door and tried the bloodstained knob, but it was locked. Alex rapped his knuckles on the wood sharply, trying to get the person's attention inside.
This better be worth it...
The woman inside had stopped screaming while he had taken out the diseased carriers, but whether that was good or bad, he didn't know. There was no answer. He picked a spot
that was free of blood and pressed his ear to the door. It was very faint, but he could hear a muffled sobbing from the other side. He knocked again, this time a bit softer so he
wouldn't scare whoever was in there.
"Hello? Hello? The dead people are gone," The words didn't sound as confident as they had in his head. He felt like he was talking to a child, but then, the whimpering from the
room did sound fairly candid. "You can open the door, it's safe now."