One Blink From Oblivion (15 page)

The fiery dragon from the mouth of the clinic retreats and Max, Vinny and Brooke take a moment to pause and catch their collective breath. Silently each, in their own way, says a final thank you and goodbye to Gilly.

The three look on, as the building consumes itself. Fire plumes lick the outer eves and set the roof ablaze. The ceiling of the lobby folds under the intense heat and sends sparks scattering outward as it collapses inward. A few subsidiary explosions can be heard, as other combustibles inside the clinic are -one by one- consumed by flame. With each small bomb, a cloud of black smoke and debris billows up into the starry night.

Eventually Vinny asks, “Now what?”

After a few moments of contemplation, Max answers with only two quiet words, “Big Mama.” 

***

A loud boom and the crackle of flames cause the freeway-man to take a momentary break from his meal. His newly heightened hearing has added a third dimension to every sound. Now instead of merely hearing in stereo he is able to discern much more subtle nuances to sounds. Every wing flap or footstep is a cornucopia of information as it bounces and rebounds off of street signs and parked cars creating a directional funnel of sound information that not only can tell him the number of his prey but in what direction they travel and their approximate size. He wonders if this is what it is like for bats stalking the night –sometimes in pure blackness- for a tiny insect in the eternal vastness of the sky. Making use of his newfound skill, he quickly determines that the explosion came from the direction of the clinic.

After being shot by Vinny, he needed to feed. He’d lost too much blood and his strength was beginning to ebb. Since that time, he’d raided several homes in the area and found four people hiding in various rooms of two of the homes. He fed on all of them. Due to his weakened state he found it necessary to surprise them rather than savoring the hunt. Surprising them meant that they were only frightened for a moment before he attacked. The lack of sweet adrenaline cocktail pumping through their systems made the meals less satisfying than he had hoped, but nonetheless his strength was returning even greater than it was before. He could even feel his body working to regenerate itself, and he once again felt the vitality that Vinny had robbed from him earlier pumping through his veins. Still, the four victims that had just so graciously given their flesh for him did not quench his desire. He needed to feed on those other three, now more than ever. And, now more then ever, he was better equipped to do just that. If the explosion he just heard had consumed them, his disappointment would be immense.

The freeway-man drops the drained and lifeless body of the small girl in pigtails, and heads straight for the clinic. With his increased speed, he arrives quickly and though the blood of the infected masks their scents –like a bloodhound- he can still recognize their sweet odors underneath. He watches them as they idle in the Hummvy. He learned the hard way -twice now- that these three were no easy marks. That made his pursuit that much more alluring. Patience and cunning would be required in their conquest if he wanted to drink them all. So for now he will watch and wait…

Sean McAllister and Dwight Heart stand atop the roof of the Navy Federal building scanning the surrounding area with night vision goggles, and cursing their superior officer for leaving them alone on this concrete island with nothing more than their National Guard issued rifles and a two way radio.

Their sergeant -who seemingly held them in the lowest regard- had hand selected the two young soldiers for this task. It seemed that every shit-detail that arose was thrown at them. The last time he was feeling sour they received latrine duty. The time before, he made them scrub the barrack’s floor with toothbrushes. This however, was the first time that he had the opportunity to put them in harms way, and he didn’t hesitate to do so. The sergeant thought he was being a
hard-ass
. Everyone else thought he was
just an ass
. When Sean and Dwight get back to headquarters, they plan to piss in his coffee at their earliest convenience.

The night was cool and the two soldiers were shooting-the-shit. So far, they’d seen nothing else worth shooting. About ten minutes ago, they heard an explosion and saw smoke streaming up in the distance. As per orders, they sat tight and reported what they saw, and from their current location, they couldn’t see much given there was an ordinance in the area about buildings being more than two stories high. At three stories tall the Navy Federal building –where they now perch- predated that ordinance. It was the highest thing around, but it still offered a poor vantage point for anything going on in the distance.

Dwight picks up a pair of night vision binoculars and trains them in the direction of the fire, “Looks like it’s still burning pretty good over there. What do you think are the chances of the fire department showing up?”

“Zero,” replies Sean, “you know, any time there’s a real disaster first thing that happens is police and fire go home to take care of their families. Hell, I don’t blame them. If I wasn’t too young, dumb, and full of cum to have a family I would leave too.”

Dwight nods from behind the binoculars, “I hear you. What’s the point of saving strangers when your own family is getting sucked dry by one of those things? And speaking of being full of cum, what ever happened between you and that supply clerk? Did you hit that or what?”

Sean grimaces, “Sergeant found out about it and cock blocked me. He ratted us out and had her shift changed…” Sean trails off for a moment as something catches his eye, “Hey look it’s one of ours.”

Sean points in the direction of a Hummvy coming down the street and weaving through cars that were blocking the road. It appears to be headed for the freeway.

“You think that’s the missing unit they radioed about?” Dwight asks.

“Looks like it,” answers Sean, “Maybe they’re the ones that started that fire. Do you think we should try to raise them, or just call it in to H.Q.?”

Dwight swings the binoculars up and gets a closer look, “Wait a second… those are civilians in that thing. Looks like two or three of them, and bloody as hell… I say we call it in. Last thing we want to do is alert any of the infected to where we are.”

“You’re right, I’ll radio H.Q.”

Sean grabs the short-wave radio and informs H.Q. that they have a military Hummvy in sight, possibly that of the unit that had been missing for the past few hours, and that it’s occupied by at least three -possibly infected- civilians. H.Q. radios back with orders not to engage them, and to let them pass.

“Copy that.” Responds Sean before he releases the transmit button.

“No shit, don’t engage. These little guns won’t do jack to a Hummvy, and would probably just piss those things off.” says Dwight as he spits on the tar paper that covers the rooftop on which they stand.”

A soft crackling noise interrupts their conversation.

“Did you hear that?” asks Sean, cocking his head to the side in an attempt to locate the source of the sound.

“I didn’t hear a…” Dwight’s words are replaced by a gurgling noise and his head slumps down to his chin.

“What the fu…” is all that Sean is able to get out before his windpipe is severed in two by a blood-soaked, gray haired man in khakis.

Sean’s head flops the opposite direction from Dwight’s but soon they will be equally dead.

Dwight and Sean’s bodies slump to the tarpaper one after the other. Dwight lies flat on his face to reveal several crushed and exposed vertebrae at the base of his skull. He is paralyzed, but alive for the moment, just long enough to see the freeway-man head straight for the edge of the roof and drop silently back into the night from whence he came.

***

Max is weaving through the ever worsening and ghostly traffic jam of empty vehicles that clog the streets as they near the freeway. Some of the doors of the cars have been ripped off of the hinges. On other vehicles, the glass has been shattered. A few of the cars still house victims –drained of fluids- leaning this way or that inside. Some are slumped over their steering wheels and others lay half way out of the open door with their throats ripped out. The empty cars had presumably housed victims as well at some time. They were the unlucky ones that had turned after being bitten. Max imagines them rising up to feed alongside those that had just infected them. He knew that realistically it probably took a bit longer for someone to become fully infected, but there did seem to be a correlation between the times it took for someone to go completely ape-shit and the severity of the bite.

Up ahead, the road appears to be coming to an impasse. Vehicles are blocking the road and sidewalks from building-to-building.

Brooke asks Max, “Do you think we can plow through them?”

Max shakes his head, “Something is off. Someone put these cars here like this.”

Max slows down as he approaches within thirty feet of the wall of cars. He comes to a complete stop and then puts the Hummvy into reverse. As soon as the Hummvy starts to move backward, blinding lights from nearby rooftops fill the car disorienting everyone inside. Max instinctively guns the engine but has discovered the trap too late.

A soldier pulls a heavy-duty spike strip fixed with ten inch serrated blades across the road behind the Hummvy and Max is unable to react before the vehicle has crossed it. The strip shreds every tire in an instant. Max knows the heavy duty Hummvy tires may continue to run after crossing the strip but thinks better of attempting to evade the military. Heavily armed soldiers surround the Hummvy and shout orders at Max, Vinny and Brooke to shut off the engine and exit the vehicle immediately. Max advises Vinny and Brooke to disarm their selves completely and he does the same.

“We don’t want any yahoos getting trigger happy on us.”

Max and Vinny open the doors and the three of them exit the vehicle with hands up. The soldiers instruct them to lift their shirts and turn around.

“We’re unarmed!” Max says loudly.

He’s been here before and knows this drill. Whether it be cops or soldiers, the best thing you can do is let them know you pose no threat. Apparently satisfied with what they see, one soldier tosses two zip-ties on the ground at Brooke’s feet.

“You two guys put your hands behind your back.” the soldier yells at Vinny and Max before pointing at Brooke, “You pick those up and tie their hands. Make it tight.”

Brooke complies but grimaces when she cinches Vinny’s wrist in the zip-tie. She bets that right about now he was wishing he’d opted for the morphine. The tie locks his shoulder in an unnatural position, but he appears to be no worse for the wear.

“Now, you turn around and kneel down on the ground with your legs crossed under you.”

Brooke complies again and two soldiers swoop in and quickly tie her wrist in the same manner she had tied the others. One of the soldiers gives the tie an extra tug and it bites into her skin.

“Hey, that hurts!” she barks at the soldier who immediately applies the same tug to both Max and Vinny’s ties as well.

Max decides that now is the time to speak up since the soldiers should be feeling a bit more secure, “We didn’t jack the Hummvy. Gilly let us take it.”

This statement peaks the interest of a nearby soldier with dark hair and wide eyes.

“P.F.C. Gilly? Where is he? That’s bullshit. Why would he let you take it?”

The soldier’s shoulder shows the rank of corporal and his pocket tag reads ‘Steward’.

Max realizes that this young soldier must have been a friend of Gilly’s and decides to tread lightly, “He was hurt and he gave us the vehicle so we could get away from a swarm of those things.”

“So you just left him?” shouts CPL Steward, his voice now a couple of octaves higher than it was a moment ago.

“It wasn’t like that,” adds Vinny.

“It sure as hell looks like that.” The wide-eyed soldier spits at Vinny before turning to a man out of the range of the lights, “We gotta’ go get him serge’!” 

“You can’t,’ says Max, “He’s dead. He died in a fire.”

Brooke quickly adds, “He died to save us,” her voice tremors a bit and her eyes well with tears once more.

The man in the background steps into the light and looks Brooke up and down.

He says, “Maybe, maybe not, but even if it’s true the three of you look like you’ve been exposed, and far as we know, you could be halfway to turning already. You best come with us just to be safe.”

He makes the last statement with a thick amount of sarcasm in his voice. He then turns and disappears back out of range of the lights.

The soldier that had earlier shouted orders at Brooke begins to shout more now.

“Let’s get them on the truck!”

A large troop transport vehicle pulls up and the tailgate swings down to reveal a truck bed already occupied by several people that all seem to be suffering from various stages of infection.

Brooke is the first one led to the truck and she protest loudly, “Those people are infected! You can’t put us in there with them!”

“They’re all chained up. You’ll be fine Ms.” One of the soldiers leading her by her arm tries unsuccessfully to reassure her.

As soon as she is seated on the bench in the back of the truck, she too is shackled to the floor.

“Sorry Ms. Just a precaution,” the soldier attempts to reassure her again.

Max realizes that the soldiers have taken Brooke first in hopes that it will make it easier to get them inside and tethered without a fight. It’s a smart move. What man is going to run off and leave his lady friend that is already chained up in a truck full of infected? Well, no real man would do that anyway.

They come for Vinny next and one soldier stands behind him with something that looks like a cattle prod. Max can see the two electrodes on the end of the staff and wonders if the soldiers found that electricity was an effective method in subduing the infected.

Just as they get Vinny up into the back of the truck one of the rooftop lights on a nearby Johnny Rockets is extinguished with a hollow popping sound. A muffled squeal follows from the same area. Within seconds, the neighboring light is put out in the same manner. Shortly after, something that sounds like a large bird can be heard just overhead, moving across the narrow one-way street from one rooftop to another. In short order, the final light has been extinguished.

“Circle up!” calls the voice of CPL Steward.

All of the soldiers quickly form a loose circle with their backs to each other and scan the night. Some of them snap their rifle lights on and pan the rooftops.

“They’re here, be ready.” calls out one soldier.

“Don’t let them break the line!” yells out another.

Max stands outside the circle –weaponless- with his hands tied behind his back and feeling as naked as a newborn. He knows he is useless to his friends given his circumstances. Brooke and Vinny are in all likelihood safer than he, since they’re surrounded by infected already. The moon and stars provide enough light for him to find his way to the passenger side of the Hummvy, where he quickly drops to the ground and rolls under the vehicle. He prays that the stench of the stale infected blood on their clothes will be enough to keep he and his friends out of harms way.

Everyone falls silent, waiting and listening for the horde of infected. Their wait is short lived. A guttural voice shatters the silence.

“Keep your fucking hands off of my dinner.” The voice emanates from within the middle of the circle of soldiers. From under the Hummvy, Max can make out the imposing and all too familiar silhouette of the freeway-man. The moonlight glints off of his oversized teeth and reveals a wide sadistic grin.

As the soldiers realize what has happened they begin to spin around to face their attacker. Max realizes that they’ve been outmaneuvered by the freeway-man. There is no way to fire on him in the center of their circle without firing on each other. Before anyone can decide what to do the freeway-man has reached out to the soldier nearest to him and grabbed him by the top of his body-armor. With a quick swipe, the freeway-man peels the armor from the soldier’s body and flings it at his next target that is far less fortunate than his armor-less comrade.

The armor hits the soldier in the head, and while he reels from the impact, the freeway-man closes the gap between them and in one mighty stroke drives the soldiers nose into his brain so deeply that only a small jagged hole remains where the soldiers nose used the be. In a flash, the freeway-man leaps through the air to the other side of the circle where he again rips the body-armor from a surprised soldier. The soldier instinctively fires his weapon in the direction of the freeway-man but none of his bullets find purchase in their intended target. The freeway-man is simply too fast to pin down. The soldiers swing their weapons wildly trying to track him, but instead only blind each other with the tactical lights affixed to their rifles.