Downfall Read online

  Shoving the dead thing away, he barely had any time to react to the icy hands that wrapped around his chest.

  “Fuck,” was all he could get out before there was another jerk and the grip fell limp.

  “C’mon.” Cole yanked Matt toward him, sheathed his sword, and pulled out his pistol, shooting the closest undead. A child who couldn’t have been more than seven before the grisly transformation dropped as the back of its head spat out brains and bone.

  Matt’s arms were burning, but he managed to sheath his sword after a few deep breaths and pulled out his sidearm. The first shot was off to the right, missing a staggering former-businesswoman by inches and connecting with a deceased police officer’s neck. The policeman turned its attention from Cole to Matt with a groan. Matt noticed the dead cop’s sidearm holstered at its hip and took a step back when he saw the creeper’s hand atop it; its other arm stretched forth as it crept forward.

  Drawing a bead on the thing’s forehead, he fired, immediately moving to the businesswoman before seeing the officer’s body drop. One of the creepers, a fat and pale man in a mechanic’s outfit, moaned and tripped over something at the curb. Its face smacked the road hard, cracking its skull. Matt fired three more times, downing three more creepers staggering behind it.

  “Cole,” Alex yelled.

  A dead man burst through the crowd with such speed that it caught Cole off guard. Before he could fire, it was on him.

  Ejecting a spent magazine and seeing the thing tackle his friend, Matt fished for a fresh one, knowing Cole was on borrowed time.

  ***

  Cole did his best to block those cold, dead hands as they feverishly reached for him. Then the bastard leaned in, stretching its mouth wide. It growled, and Cole wrapped his left hand around its throat pushed it back before any of his flesh could be robbed. A burst of adrenaline surged through his body as he threw blow after blow at its temple, carefully avoiding the snarling mouth. One bite and all would be lost.

  Matt ran up, squeezing off several rounds until reaching Cole. Before he could knock the thing off his friend, Cole managed to shimmy his way out from underneath and kick up with enough force to send the creature reeling backward.

  The dexterous dead, clad in bloodstained, tattered clothing, skin dark gray with splotches of black that could either be dried blood or an effect of the infection, turned its attention to Matt. It growled again, grinding its bloodstained teeth. Matt fired once and watched as it buckled, dropping knees first, face second.

  “Jesus,” Cole said, panting. “That damn runner came out of nowhere.”

  “Are there any more?” Matt asked, looking all around. Nothing moved other than the occasional jerking limb.

  “Doesn’t look like it.” Cole put his hands to his side and let out a deep breath. He turned to Matt and furrowed his brow. “What the hell are you wearing, man?”

  “This?” Matt removed the facemask and took a deep breath. “I found this and a few other things in the basement. Nothing much, really.”

  “Well we got some slim pickins from the store.” Cole motioned to the gas station. “Still a few more things in there I bet we could use. We better make it quick, though. I don’t wanna be here when their friends show up.”

  “I heard that.” Matt swiped a few beads of sweat before they tumbled off his brow. “Just tell me how the hell that happened.” He pointed back to the partially collapsed house. “Houses just don’t blow up, you know.”

  “You didn’t hear it?” Alex said, walking up to the two.

  “Hear what?” Matt asked, watching the kid slap a fresh mag into his rifle.

  “It was a screamer, man,” Cole said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “We’d just gotten in the store when we heard its call. I swear, I thought my ears were bleeding something crazy for the first few seconds. Then some dead military runner made it for the house from somewhere behind us and the next thing we knew, we were nearly knocked off our feet.” He shrugged. “Must’ve accidentally set off a grenade or something.”

  Matt chuckled, shook his head, and tucked loose strands of his long brown hair behind his ears. “Next time, you check the houses,” he said as he retrieved his backpack. He walked over to van, opened the back door, and set it inside. “Did you kill the screamer?”

  “Couldn’t tell ya. Never saw it in the first place.” Cole exchanged magazines and chambered a round. “Could still be out there for all we know.”

  “Great,” Matt said. “Let’s get this thing done, then.”

  Alex and Cole made for the store while Matt backed the van up to the front door. Leaving it on, he exited and turned on the pumps and began filling the eight gas cans, keeping a watchful eye out. The fires were dwindling.

  Cole and Alex were tossing items into the back of the van by the time the last can was full. Still no visible threats. Cole was giving the store a final walkthrough, Alex standing at the entry, when something, possibly a shadow, caught Matt’s attention. He loaded the can, brought a hand up above his eyes, and focused on the side of the store. Right before the wrecked bus. A brief shadow darted behind the vehicle.

  “Matt,” Cole yelled before he could investigate. “Need you in here, quick!”

  “Keep an eye out by that bus,” Matt told Alex, who was running past him with a case of bottled water.

  He found Cole standing in front of a door marked Employees Only.

  Cole nodded toward the door, his face a mishmash of anger and exhaustion. “There’s one in here.”

  As if to concur with his statement, whatever was inside started pounding on the door. A few muffled growls punctuated the situation.

  Matt pulled out his pistol and forced a grin. “Whoever’s in there, they sound pissed.”

  “It’s locked.” Cole brought out his pistol. “I’ll kick it in while you put ‘em down.”

  Matt gave a quick nod.

  Their movements synched like precision clockwork. Cole kicked the frail door partially off its hinges and Matt fired three times. One shot hit the money—right between the eyes—while the other two hit the creeper’s left shoulder, spinning it around as it dropped lifelessly to its back. Its fingers twitched once as death took its final toll.

  “Damn,” Cole said, covering his nose with his arm. “Looks like this one’s full, huh?”

  Matt sighed and shook his head, covering his nose too as his eyes took in the sight before him.

  A dead woman’s corpse sat with her back against the far wall. Her blond hair was stained crimson, her throat, face, and right arm torn to shreds. One eye had been pulled out of its socket, and tendrils of chewed muscle hung like small, bloody ropes from the opening. Matt leaned in to read the nametag above her right breast.

  “Michelle?” He turned to Cole with a curled lip. “Jesus. I think I knew her. Used to buy weed off her husband.”

  “You know what to do,” Cole said firmly. “No telling when she’ll get up.”

  Matt looked at Michelle and lowered his head. “You deserved better than this.” He aimed and fired. Before he could summon the courage to look away, Cole was tugging at his shirt, saying something he couldn’t make out. As the ringing finally subsided, he could hear Alex’s shooting and calling for them.

  The kid was by the van in a sniper’s crouch. Alex fired and reloaded, not missing a beat.

  Matt caught a glimpse of the growing crowd of creepers as he ran out the store. “Holy shit,” he said, seeing Cole dash to his side of the van.

  There must have been over fifty of them piling out from the streets beyond the wreckage. Latecomers from the screamer’s call, Matt guessed. He fired at the closest, none of the shots marking a kill. Alex yelled for him to get inside as he climbed into the back of the van and shut the doors.

  “Hurry up,” Cole yelled from his seat. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his spare key, and started the van.

  “Hold your—”

  The ground shook beneath his feet like an earthquake, as if Hell itself
were rising from the black depths beneath the pavement.

  “What the hell is that?” Matt heard himself scream.

  The house which had held his unconscious form just minutes ago was falling in on itself. The blacktop below him cracked like dried skin on lips. The horde ahead gained ground, the echoes of more screamers sounding in the distance behind the ranks of zombies.

  Fear took a firm grip in Matt’s chest. They really were coming from everywhere, and it wouldn’t be too long before the dead overwhelmed the living. Matt fired until his magazine was dry. None of the shots hit anything vital.

  “Damn you,” he spat through gritted teeth.

  As he turned to get into the van, something bellowed with monstrous force, much louder than any screamer he’d heard before. This had bass; terrible pain and anger. Not hunger. Looking back, he could make out the silhouette of something enormous, something that easily towered the rest of the horde. Matt made a beeline for the pump.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Cole yelled, slamming his fist into the side of the van. “We gotta go.”

  Matt depressed the lever and locked it in place, watching as the nozzle spat out precious gas. He set it on the ground and made for his door. Tearing it open, he handed Cole the pistol, dropped the transmission into gear, and floored it.

  “What the hell are you thinking, man?” Cole said as he was jerked back.

  “What was it? What was it?” Alex asked relentlessly.

  “I don’t know,” Matt answered. “But whatever it is, it’s big.” He glanced in the rearview and tightened his grip on the wheel. “And it brought company.”

  Both passengers turned to glue their eyes to the gas station, but their vision was torn from the scene as Matt spun the wheel and slammed on the brakes. The contents in the rear shifted and Alex fell over, nearly losing his grip on the rifle.

  “Give me the rifle and Cole a shotgun.” Matt pointed to the storage bin strapped to both the passenger’s and driver’s seats. Inside were two pairs of binoculars and a collection of firearms and ammunition that had been acquired over the past week.

  “Here.” Alex handed Cole a Mossberg and Matt a .30-06.

  “Watch my back,” Matt said as he opened his door.

  Cole eyed him down and raised a brow.

  Matt repeated, “Just watch my back.”

  They stepped out and stood beside their open doors. Matt fired at the growing puddle of gas. His first shot was a few feet shy. His second bounced off the pavement, creating a spark. In seconds the area was covered in flames. Cole held up his gun, but most of his attention was drawn to countless bodies shuffling and running forth, mainly on the leviathan in the middle of them all. The thing roared, but an explosion drowned it out.

  A mushroom cloud shot skyward, and the shockwave forced Matt and Cole back. The zombies in sight were either caught in the flames or thrown from the blast. Two or three of the wrecked vehicles near the place went up in explosions of their own.

  “I-I can’t believe we just did that,” Matt exclaimed as he hopped in the driver’s seat. “Holy fucking shit, that was intense.”

  “I know,” Cole said, still trying to wrap his mind around what he’d seen. “Hopefully it took care of that… thing.”

  “Did you get it?” Alex almost sounded excited, but his face still spoke of fright.

  Matt glanced at the side view one more time and put the vehicle in gear, but something in his peripheral vision kept his eyes glued to the fiery scene behind.

  “What is it?” Cole asked, looking into his mirror. “Why aren’t we getting—”

  Before Matt could process what he was seeing, it happened: A tan Volvo came crashing down on the road right beside the van as if hurled by a vengeful god. The hunk of metal and glass bounced over the broken pavement, smashing within a hair’s width of hitting the passenger-side front fender before coming to a standstill on its side.

  Alex screamed. Cole nearly jumped out of his skin.

  Matt made haste in slamming down the gas pedal, quickly dodging the newly made obstruction. He glanced in the rearview and saw beefy arms flailing in the blaze and a few fiery corpses running and collapsing.

  Cole set his Glock on the dashboard and fell back into his seat, resting his head on his arms, trying to push the image of that thing out of his mind. He watched the side of the road, shaking his head at all the destruction they passed.

  There were barely any signs of the times before that hadn’t been tainted by the infection. Dead bodies lay scattered about. Some here, some there. A handful still in motion, lurching toward the vehicle as it drove by. He sighed as one zombie, a child no older than five, reached for them and stumbled as she missed.

  “You think it’ll… it’ll follow us?” Alex said apprehensively.

  “Not where we’re goin’, buddy,” Matt answered and pulled out a joint.

  CHAPTER 2

  Kristin and Mary tended to Barry Hamley in the master bedroom on the second floor. Anna lay on the couch in the living room, trying to get some sleep. Both she and Barry had been injured in the car accident, but her husband suffered much more grievously than she had, and the thought she might lose him tore at her like a dull blade wrenching through soft skin. She needed him now more than ever.

  It all happened so fast. Anna rubbed her heavy eyes and recalled that fateful day.

  When the infection had reached D.C., the couple decided to leave their home in Newport News, Virginia for a safer location in Williamsburg; a gated community in which Anna’s parents lived. At that time it seemed a smart bet. Even though the media warned against leaving home, they left. As did countless others.

  Barry had run a red light while en route. He’d been panicked, constantly worrying about his wife and unborn child, looking to Anna to see if she was all right more than paying attention to the road, and didn’t notice that the light had changed. Or the black hatchback crossing the intersection. Barry hadn’t been wearing his seatbelt and his chest collided with the steering wheel, his head with the windshield. The airbag hadn’t deployed; Barry becoming a victim of defective manufacturing.

  The accident had rendered both passengers unconscious.

  When she had awoken later that evening, Anna was shocked to find that their savior was their neighbor’s son, Alex. Anna was quite happy that the boy had survived. She and Barry were fond of their neighbors, and always thought of them as extended family. Aside from the Turner’s boy, everyone else in this place was a stranger.

  She thought about the rest of the survivors. They were all kind, and their house, from what she’d seen, was relatively safe out in the middle of nowhere. Woods bordered the backyard and both sides of the property. She hadn’t stepped outside to inspect those boundaries since waking; Barry was her main concern.

  Anna couldn’t help but worry about the two friends, Matt and Cole. They were reckless—“young and immortal,” as her mother would have said—but they were risking everything by going out there to find food and water, supplies they would share with her and her family. If Barry were in better condition, she knew he’d be right out there with them, instead of Alex. She found herself overly concerned about the kid, but found solace in the fact that his father was an Army ranger—who’d been deployed when the infection hit—and had trained his son how to use a rifle at the gun club in Yorktown.

  Like father, like son.

  She closed her eyes and let herself drift on such a comforting phrase.

  “Like father, like son.”

  ***

  Mary entered the master bedroom with a damp towel to rest over Barry’s fevered brow. The injured man was propped up by a pair of pillows, his left leg elevated by another trio of fluffy cushions. There was a weeping laceration on his ankle, discovered by Cole when transferring Barry up here the day he and his wife had been rescued.

  Kristin was changing the dressing as Mary walked up to her.

  “Anna’s asleep on the couch again. She seems to be doing a little better now.” />
  “I wish I could say the same for Barry,” Kristin said in a low voice. “He’s getting worse by the hour. Still running a fever. And his complexion seems to fade every time I look at him.” She turned, grabbed the towel from Mary, and said in an even lower tone, “I don’t think he’s gonna make it, Mare. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Alex and Anna, but I think the guys are right; I think he’s infected. And without the proper care—the care I can’t possibly provide—I doubt he’d make it even if he wasn’t.”

  “What do you think we should do?” Mary asked, biting her lip.

  “Honestly?” Kristin turned slightly, just enough that half her face came into view.

  There was a moment of uncomfortable silence.

  Mary nodded, somewhat disheartened by the pause.

  “I think that… maybe we should restrain him.” Kristin nodded to Barry and began cleaning the wound. “Tie him down with some rope or something. That way, if he does take a turn for the worse, it will be much easier to handle him.”

  Mary lifted a hand in protest. “What about Anna? What the hell will we tell her when she sees him like that? ‘We thought this would be better?’”

  “I guess we’ll tell her that he needed to be secured,” Kristin answered, shrugging it off. “When the time comes. I mean, I’m not talking about torturing the guy. Just concerned about our safety, is all. If she doesn’t like that, I’ll gladly point her to the door.” She tossed the now-bloody towel onto the pile of encrusted rags in front of the nightstand.

  Mary searched for the appropriate response, but Kristin continued before she could find it.

  “Look, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.” She sighed and looked to the burly, sweat-soaked man. “But we do need to think of the safety of the group as whole, not just an individual. If there is a possibility that Barry’s infected, I think we need to do something about it now. I’d much rather play it safe than wake up to the horror of one of us being eaten alive. I’m sorry if what I said sounded harsh. I want him to pull through too…” She took a deep breath and exhaled with a shrug. “I just want to survive more.”