One Blink From Oblivion (21 page)

Although the room is free of soldiers, doctors and nurses Vinny is far from alone. Of the beds scattered about in the room at least three quarters of them are occupied. Most of their occupants are still lying motionless and tripping from the intravenously delivered cocktail that he enjoyed only moments ago. Unfortunately, that accounted for
most
…not
all
. Two of his fellow yellow braceletiers, appear to be locked in the throws of passion. The male of the couple is lying flat on his back with one arm dangling to the side and free of the gurney. The errant arm is still tethered to the magical drip of pacification and judging by his body language; he looks to be thoroughly enjoying himself. The female is straddling her mate with both knees bent and on the gurney. She rhythmically rocks to and fro while they engage in a most passionate kiss.

Normally this is exactly the type of erotica that Vinny goes for. Typically, he would be watching such a thing on a television or computer screen as the act is performed by sub-par actors just going through the motions while waiting and hoping for their big breaks. Rarely would one be lucky enough to catch an impromptu and very public display of affection between two willing partners who where neither being paid nor dared to do so. The fact that the lady on top had the figure of a pro from the finest of adult flicks -thin waist, rounded hips and bottom, braless yet firm breast that were evident even through the shapeless scrubs she wore- made the experience that much more titillating. So far his evening had been about as fun as a chainsaw circumcision, so this is definitely a move in the right direction. But, all of that being said, something in this scene –aside from the turmoil outside this room and in the mall- is curbing his libido. Something seems off, but in his drug-induced haze, he is unable to pinpoint it… until. Suddenly, the empty gurney next to the couple from which the lady had come, crashes into the gurney where she now resides atop her neighbor. This ghostly movement startles Vinny to the point that he must wait for the blood that had been diverted to his -suddenly flaccid- extremity to return to his brain before he can correctly decipher what he is witnessing.

The woman on top –her head and hair still mingling with that of her lover until they almost appear conjoined- is still strapped to the adjacent bed by one wrist after apparently having freed her other three appendages from their restraints. Furthermore, no intravenous umbilical snakes from either of her arms. What person in their right mind, without the inhibition freeing effects of a pharmaceutical agent or alcohol, would behave like
that
at a time like
this
? Then, as if in response to Vinny’s mental question, the lady takes a timely break and raises her head to look in his direction.

Her face is covered ear to ear in a sardonic blood-smeared grin like a demonic clown that feeds on the souls of impish children. The hair around her face is matted with blood and a large clump of it remains slathered to her victim’s neck refusing to relinquish purchase until every last drop has been drained. The thought comes to mind that this brings new meaning to the term necking and Vinny files that one away for later.

To Vinny’s bewilderment, she neither rises nor gives chase in his direction. She simply lowers her head and returns to her meal. Vinny again surveys the room and begins to understand her lack of aggression toward him. Why bother chasing a tall –though quite thin and gawky- man that could possibly inflict some small amount of damage of his own, when there is an endless supply of chemically subdued sheep right here in this room and ripe for the slaughter?

The thought gives Vinny pause while he contemplates the fates of those in the room –like he- that are free of infection. He should, at the very least, free those closest to him. He would need to first remove their IVs so they could regain a bit of their wits before he helped them out of their restraints and/or to their feet. But how many would she allow him to emancipate before she began to take it as a personal affront to her generosity in granting his amnesty? Furthermore, how would he know who was safe to release and who should be kept in restraints? Odds were that she was not the only infected here in the room. Lastly –and most importantly to Vinny- the more she had in here to keep her busy the more likely he was to make a clean getaway without her changing her mind about the merits of his pursuit. Vinny turns to the closest exit not in the direction of the conflict or the infected vixen and casually limps away.

***

Like the bird from his most beloved breakfast cereal commercial as a child, the freeway-man follows his nose to the nearest –and most important- of his quarry. Like a Black Mamba, he slips and slithers with incredible speed and acumen from one shadowy hide to the next as he coverts his way through open passages. Though he was reckless as a youth his years hence as a mixed martial artist had taught him to choose his battles wisely. The less confrontation he encounters on the way to his prey then the more energized and focused he’ll be upon arrival. Although his new body heals at an accelerated rate it would not do to take even a few unfortunate hits from a rifle or sidearm before he has the opportunity to exact his revenge. So far, everything was proceeding precisely as he had scripted and he is determined to let nothing derail him.

He reaches the escalator and like an apparition he appears to spirit himself from bottom step to top with an incredible litheness he wishes he had possessed in his earlier days of competition. Out of the multitude of steps that lay between the first and second floors, he manages to ascend the distance with only the lightest of treads on just three of the steps. He can hear the pandemonium in his wake and the melodic sound fuels him onward like the roar of a stadium full of adoring fans. He is lifted, as the shooter in possession of the ball in game seven of the championship series with only seconds left on the clock. He is down by a point but the play he has mapped-out can’t miss. Furthermore, the bedlam he has unleashed gives him the home court advantage and he intends to take full advantage of it.

He pauses for a moment at the top of the steps to soak in the scene. His canine-sensitive olfactory sense tells him that Max is near. The acoustic marvel of his increased hearing mixed with the underlined scent of excess adrenaline beaming from the same direction tells him that Max may be embattled. With laser beam focus he hones in on the empty store where Max stands in peril and he is pleased to find the front gate has not only been graciously left open for him but a light snack has been prepared as well.

***

Cpl Steward stands in the open doorway to the bare but occupied space, stretching and craning his neck in an effort to gain a better view of the main event he had brokered moments ago. He yells ceaselessly at the crowd to move aside but he dares not enter the room for fear of being overcome by angry captives –now enlivened by the skirmish before them. The fight has progressed to the rear of the room so all of the onlookers have their backs to him. Unfortunately for Cpl Steward that means that there is no one to warn him as the freeway-man stalks him from soundless shadows.

***

The freeway-man arrives deftly behind his mark and opts for snapping his neck prior to drinking his blood. This makes the draining of his life force a bit more difficult since there will be no fear-stricken spastically beating heart to drive the juice down his gullet. Typically, he needs only to hold on and enjoy the ride, but this time he will need to suck upon his victim like a clichéd Dracula from a Bela Lugosi film. He doesn’t let the mental comparison hamper his enjoyment. The open door and clean kill are unexpected windfalls and he takes them as a sign that his ultimate kill will succeed in even greater fashion than he had previously envisioned.

He has to cut his snack short when he senses that Max’s life may actually hang in the balance from his altercation with the giant whose salty perfume nearly overwhelms him. The freeway-man rises and lets the limp remains of Cpl Steward slump to the tile floor. He slips silently through the door and slinks his way through the crowd. The choice to hide his true nature to avoid incident or panic until in reach of Max proves prudent. The element of surprise is his once again.

The freeway-man himself is not a diminutive man but in comparison to the beast whose voluminous back looms before him he seems more akin to a younger sibling than the mighty creature he has become. He must admit to himself that he is a bit disappointed that Max was unable to handle even this gargantuan of a man but a quick glance to either side proves his disappointment unwarranted. He sees that three other men lie about in various degrees of brokenness and assembles the pieces in his mind. Three-on-one plus this behemoth in front of him? On second thought Max was shaping up to be more than what he had hoped, an adversary for the ages. He had watched from a distance as Max had so nimbly dispatched those other unprepared infected in the clinic. That would not be him. Not again.

When he has sucked the final drop from his wrecked and lifeless body he wonders if he might miss Max, or possibly even shed a tear for his greatest foe. The thought of an emotional connection to his victim gives him a shiver of delight down the length of his spine. He ponders how much sweeter the kill would be if he was to nurture that feeling a bit longer? If he was to water it and allow it to grow, what kind of bloom might it produce? Fighting, when he was younger, and killing more recently had always been about pure dominance of his opponent. Could it be that his understanding of the meaning of the term ‘violence of action’ was evolving along with his physicality? The desire to taste Max’s life-blood is strong –nearly overwhelming- but to take it from him while he lie defeated in the oversized man’s arms would be no victory. Besides, in the back of his mind a new plan is emerging that would rape Max mentally before he crushes him physically. He allows himself the slightest of smiles at the thought of it.

The freeway-man reaches high and grabs hold of the giant’s skull with one vise-like hand –his fingers spread so wide that he risks tearing the webbing between them. His nails –strong as talons- dig through the soft hairy flesh of the man’s scalp and purchase in bone. The pressurized blood, always in a rush to escape from head wounds, streams from the five incisions and a single thin stream paints a diagonal line across Max’s unconscious face. The freeway-man bends the behemoth backward until his vertebrae begin to sound off like microwave popcorn. The giant releases Max and unleashes a wail of agony that the freeway-man finds most satisfying. Encouraged by the agonizing screams he seizes the opportunity and reaches into the gaping mouth with his free hand. Grabbing hold of the giant’s lower jaw, he levers the two halves of his head apart on the hinge of his spine until his teeth become a single horizontal row. The man’s eyes bug and roll wildly about in their sockets in a final effort to ascertain what had gone wrong. The sound of stretching muscles, snapping tendons, grinding jawbones and spurting blood accompanies the impossible sight and previously stagnant onlookers morph into fleeing sheep. The freeway-man tosses the fallen giant to one side and like a wolf he pursues them.

***

After what seemed like an eternity on a battlefield, Brooke reaches the storage-room door and finds it clogged by two sizeable ladies fighting to be the first one through. More bullets shred the displays attached to the walls and random pieces of rubber, leather and logo rocket in every direction. Brooke shuts her eyes and covers up until the barrage passes. Upon reopening her eyes she is momentarily back in the clinic, standing face to face with the overweight mulleted biter in the yellow and white shirt. He stands so close that his rotting breath chokes her. The yellow of his eyes consumes her. The future psychologist in her rationalizes that this must be a waking nightmare caused by the stress of her current situation. Her nervous system ignores the psychologist and flings her forward through the ghostly visage toward the oversized door-attendants with only her own self-preservation in mind.

              As a child Brooke’s family’s extreme wealth, had caused her to be targeted by those less fortunate on more than one occasion. When she was in fifth grade a boy that she had known only as Pip had periodically grabbed her by the hair and yanked her back and forth while reciting a poem he had comprised in her honor, “
I grabbed Brooke and she got shook, ‘cause her daddy is rich and her Mama is a bitch!
” These incidents and others like them had spurred Brooke’s parents to enroll her in a self-defense course specifically designed for petite girls to defend against larger attackers. Until this night, she had never had cause to make use of those years of knowledge. Earlier in the clinic, disbelief had stiffened her and thus rendered any training moot. In the brief time since they had left the clinic, she had seen too much to still be rapt in that state of bewilderment. All this horror was really happening and if she didn’t get with the program, it would happen to her.

              Upon reaching the squabbling women, Brooke promptly turns her back to one of them, grabs two firm handfuls of locks over her right shoulder and mule kicks her in her left leg. The woman’s arms flail widely as she begins to topple backward ala Blunderbore. Brooke lets her slide past her right shoulder and releases her rather than using the woman’s own body weight against her to magnify the impact. The idea was to remove her as an obstacle, not to give her a concussion. Brooke is successful on both counts, no sooner does the lady hit the floor than she is scrambling to regain her feet again.

              The other barrier to the storage room waste no time to thank Brooke for the perceived free pass and she squeezes through the doorway and out of sight into the blackness beyond it. Brooke follows closely behind her.