Ahead, the top of the hill was open. The trees gave way to a clearing that was yet to be visible from their point of view, though Dan could clearly see some kind of weathervane in the distance. As they trudged on, the object gave way to the tower that held it. It was the white-paneled tower of a small church.
“Holy shit,” Dan muttered, wondering if Eric would find it amusing. He didn’t.
“What kind of church is out here in the middle of nowhere?” Eric asked.
“You hadn’t noticed it before?”
“No. But then again, I wasn’t really looking for one.”
Dan stopped, remembering the church in Oolitic. “The last time I was at a church, it wasn’t a very pleasant experience.”
“I wonder if the pastor is still here.”
Dan continued on. As they reached the top of the trail, they could see the whole churchyard. There were headstones on their side, interspersed with dead trees. The headstones were old; decrepit and cracking. Some of them had been overturned, and there seemed to be fresh graves. Someone had been busy here. They stopped, scanning the area for any dangers. There were no creatures in sight; only the church itself. The main doors were on the left side, and there looked to be a small gravel parking lot with a narrow road going off into the woods.
“Alpine Baptist Church,” Dan said, reading the sign. “I wonder if there are supplies in there.”
“I’m not looking forward to finding out,” Eric said, “but I guess since we’re here…”
They crossed the clearing, checking out the headstones on their way. The names were mostly Germanic, with a few Anglo names among them. Most of the dates were in the late 1800s, with only a few from the early 1900s. Dan studied the freshly dug graves, picturing corpses clawing their way out and howling at the moon.
Impossible, he knew, but a frightening thought nonetheless.
They went around to the front of the building, noting the lack of cars in the parking lot. The front steps leading to the double doors were crusted with dried blood, and the doors themselves were scratched and splintered. Someone or something had tried to get inside to no avail. Dan mounted the first step, looking back to see Eric standing still, debating on whether to follow.
“You coming?” Dan asked.
Eric shook his head hesitantly. “I don’t know,” he said. “The doors are probably locked anyway.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Dan said. “Maybe the creatures were just unable to turn the doorknobs. They’re not the brightest bulbs on the Christmas tree.”
A loud groan caught their attention. They both turned to the parking lot, seeing a small horde of shufflers emerging from the tree line.
“Shit,” Dan said. “Come on.”
He ascended the steps, checking the doors. They were unlocked, as he suspected. Eric followed him, stepping backward to keep his eyes on the shufflers that moved unusually quickly across the gravel. There were at least a dozen of them, growling and hissing as they closed in.
“
Come on!”
Dan repeated.
Eric followed, and the two men slammed the doors behind them. There was a beam-type lock hanging loose on the left door, and Dan spun it around and rested it in its cradle to secure the door. Behind him, Eric mumbled something.
“Dan…”
Dan turned around. Eric’s eyes were wide and staring. A large, white cocoon hung at the peak of the vaulted ceiling, quivering and dripping with slime. Dan’s heart pounded, knowing full well that something was in there transforming. He took a step toward it, never taking his eyes off it. Behind him, the shufflers impacted the double doors, jolting him from his trance.
“What is that?” Eric asked.
“It’s a cocoon,” Dan replied.
Eric glanced at him in question, his eyes betraying his terror. “A cocoon for what?”
“I don’t know. Something big and bad.”
The shufflers outside growled in frustration, their banging and hissing increasing in urgency as they tried to get at their prey. It was unusual for them to be so aggressive. From what Dan could remember, and read on the posts, shufflers were usually not aggressive. They were easily avoided as long as you were quiet. Even then, they typically weren’t as dangerous as the mutants.
“Let’s see if there’s a back door,” Dan said, slowly moving down the aisle. “Stay quiet.”
Eric followed him, and they both crept as quietly as possibly toward the archway behind the pews. The cocoon continued to quiver and pulsate, dropping small glops of slime onto the pews and the floor. Dan avoided the small puddles, leading Eric around them as he kept his eyes on the danger above.
But then, a loud sloshing and ripping sound erupted from the cocoon. A flood of slimy, stinking fluid spilled down to the floor, and a long, drawn out groan followed. Dan stopped, looking up, horrified.
“Shit,” he muttered. “It’s hatching.”
“What do we do?” Eric asked.
Dan flicked off his rifle’s safety, shooting Eric a determined look.
“Get ready,” he said. “The shit’s about to hit the fan.”
Drew leaned his armload of rifles against the wall of his and Dan’s shed. Max laid the handguns down on a table, spreading them out. There were two M4A1s left, Cliff, Dan, and Eric having taken the others. He kept a tactical shotgun in his grasp, knowing that Travis would be likely to use it. He would give it to him, with a bunch of shells.
“Alright,” Drew said. “Let’s grab some of the canned food. We’ll figure out where to put it later. There are a few more rifles, but let’s leave those in the Hummer.”
Max nodded, stepping out the door. That’s when they both heard the nearby gunshot. Drew grabbed him, pulling him back inside, and took a rifle. He looked toward the opposite wall, seeing Cliff crouching atop his scaffolding. Travis poked his head out of his shed, shooting Drew a questioning look.
“Who is the leader here?”
a voice called out.
Cliff dropped down from his perch, crouching as he ran toward Drew, keeping low and behind the sheds.
“I said, who is the leader here?”
The door to the office building opened up and Melanie stepped outside. Her dog followed, looking in Drew’s direction. Drew gritted his teeth. He stepped out and hung back behind the corner of the shed just as Melanie passed.
“What do you want?” Melanie asked as she reached the gate.
“We’re looking for two men that passed through our town yesterday.”
“Shit,” Drew whispered, knowing full well that Melanie would give them up. Mason and his boys must have followed them. But how?
“They’re here,” Melanie said. “But one of them is out.”
Fuck! Goddamn bitch.
Drew heard Max sigh.
“Give them up and nobody gets hurt,” the man said. “We will leave with them and leave you in peace.”
Drew heard the crunching of gravel as, presumably, Melanie went to the gate. The clanking of chains followed, and Drew knew that she was about to let them in.
No fucking way,
he thought. He peeked around the corner, seeing Melanie struggling with the lock on the chains. On the other side of the gate, Mason approached her, waving his men up. There were eight others. Evidently they had walked up from the highway. Otherwise, he knew, Cliff would have spotted them.
“Drew,” Cliff said behind him.
Travis had followed too, but Lena and Toby were nowhere to be seen. Drew hoped they were safe.
“We can’t let them in,” Drew said. “They’ll kill everyone.”
“I know,” Cliff said. “Let’s take care of business.”
Max handed Travis the shotgun then ducked into the shed across from Dan and Drew’s. “I’m afraid I have to bow out of this conflict until I receive proper firearms training,” he said.
“Max, come on!” Travis scolded.
Max didn’t respond.
Drew slapped a magazine into his M4, flicking off the safety, and turned to Travis. “It’s okay, man,” he said. “I’d rather he stay out of sight. He’ll be safer that way. Cliff, do you see anything on the other side?”
“Yeah,” Cliff replied. “There’s a pickup in the distance, down the road a ways. Looks like they have backup.”
“Is there any other way out besides the gate?” Drew asked.
“No,” Travis said. “No way to sneak up on them.”
“Max!”
Melanie yelled.
“Max, bring me the key!”
Max poked his head out of the shed. Drew shot him a dark look, and he ducked back inside. There was another crunching of gravel as Melanie came stomping their way. Mami got to them first, growling at Drew as she saw him hiding behind the corner.
“Fuck off, dog,” he hissed quietly.
Melanie appeared then, her angry eyes locked on him. “Where’s Max?”
Drew grabbed her roughly and pulled her between the sheds. She struggled against him, flailing her fists as she groaned angrily. Cliff stood and clamped his hand around her mouth, shoving her into the empty shed and pulling Max outside. Max protested, but relented, not really wanting to share the space with Melanie. The dog growled, clamping on to Max’s shoe. He kicked her away, and she followed her master inside. Cliff slammed the doors shut, holding them closed while Drew slid an unused rifle into the two handles. Melanie’s howls of anger followed, accompanied by the sound of her fists hitting the doors.
“Let me out, goddamnit!”
she shouted.
Drew peeked around the corner, seeing Mason waving his men up. Drew raised the rifle just as Mason stepped to the side.
“Damn,” he whispered, but fired anyway.
The shot startled the men, and they scattered, firing blindly. Bullets hit the sheds, sending splinters of wood flying. Cliff rushed across the gap to another shed, firing a few rounds as he ran. Drew took aim again, releasing a full-auto stream that caught one of Mason’s men in the torso.
“Oh boy, oh boy,” Max stuttered, his face taking on a panicked look.
Cliff fired at the gate. Rounds bounced off the metal mesh, sending the men scrambling. But, Drew heard a rumbling and crunching sound in the distance, telling him the truck parked downhill was rapidly coming their way.
“Son of a bitch,” Cliff hissed. “They’re gonna smash through the gate.”
Travis peeked around the other corner. “Damn right,” he said. “Here it comes.”
Where the fuck are Lena and Toby?
Drew wondered.
“Watch out!” Cliff shouted.
The deafening crash of the gate being impacted threw Drew off guard. He recovered, fleeing with Cliff and Travis around the other side of the empty shed. Max stayed put, and Drew stared at him from behind his corner, slapping the side of the shed to get Max’s attention.
“Max!”
he shouted through gritted teeth.
“Run you stupid fucker!”
Max, wide-eyed and panicked, rushed toward him just as a hail of bullets hit the gravel around him. He made it just in time, cowering behind Cliff and Travis as Drew surveyed the scene. Mason and his men stalked through the opening where the gate was, firing randomly at the sheds in their line of sight. One of them took a sledgehammer to the Hummer, smashing the windows and the armored panels. Another shot out the tires.
“Assholes,” Drew said, raising his rifle.
He fired a few rounds in Mason’s direction, not able to get the man in his sights. Mason ducked behind the pickup, and his men followed suit. Drew felt a tapping on his shoulder. He turned to see Max holding an attachment-type weapon in his hand; one that would clip onto the bottom picatinny rail of his M4A1.
“M204 grenade launcher,” Max said. “I stuck it in my pocket earlier. Two grenades, too.”
Drew smiled, taking the launcher as Cliff and Travis laid down some cover fire.
“You know your weapons, man,” Drew said.
“Thank God for first person shooters,” Max replied.
Amid the numerous gunshots, Drew managed to attach the M204 underneath the barrel of his rifle. He loaded the two grenades into it, cocked it, and waited for a good opportunity to make an impression. Cliff growled as he fired, then paused a moment to give Drew a nod.
“Hit the pickup,” Cliff shouted.
Drew leaned out around the corner, leveling the launcher to what he thought was a good angle, and then pulled the trigger. The grenade shot out with a deafening bang, passing over the pickup to explode into a tree behind it.
“Shit,” he cursed, cocking the weapon again.
“Do it,” Travis said. “They’re getting ready to run.”
Drew leaned out again, lowering the weapon a bit, and fired again. There was only a split second between firing and the impact of the grenade. The pickup was blown off its tires just as Mason and his men leaped out of the way.
“Jesus Christ,” Drew said, feeling the heat wave of the explosion.
Cliff disappeared around the corner of the nearby shed, moving to a better position. Travis ran behind Drew, crouching to reload his shotgun. Drew peeked around the corner again, seeing the pickup in flames, flipped over on its side, and FUBARed. Unfortunately, the Hummer had taken massive damage as well.
“Fuck,” Drew said. “I blew up the Hummer, too.”
“That was bound to happen given its proximity to the target,” Max said. “But it’s just a vehicle. We’ll find another.”
“There was still beer in there,” Drew said. “And whiskey.”
“Screw the whiskey,” Travis said, finally loaded up. “Let’s go.”
They sprinted to the cluster of other sheds, taking positions at separate corners. Drew made sure Max was carrying his MP5, which he was, but was quite sure Max wasn’t ready to use it. He quickly scanned the area closer to the office building, looking for any movement. Behind a barrel, he saw Lena’s face peeking out, and the dark shape of a handgun in her grasp. He waved his hand toward her, mouthing the words, “Stay back.” She nodded and leaned back in out of sight.
“This bears a striking similarity to an online deathmatch,” Max said.
He was right. Only this wasn’t a game, and there would be no respawns.
He heard the rapid fire of an M4A1, and looked in Cliff’s direction. He had gunned down a sprinting man as he turned the corner. Travis was facing away from Cliff, but in Drew’s sights. To the doctor’s left, Drew saw movement. He raised his rifle, waiting for the intruder to creep his way into his sights. His target saw him, dropping his jaw in shock just as Drew fired a round into his face.
“Follow me,” Drew said to Max, leading him around another shed.
There was more gunfire, then a shotgun blast. Travis came running around the next shed, pumping his shotgun. “Got one,” he shouted.
“There is no need for anyone else to die!”
the familiar voice of Mason shouted.
“Just give us the two assholes and we’ll be on our way.”
“Come and get them!”
Cliff shouted back.
There was silence for a moment. Drew locked eyes with Cliff, seeing him nod his head in Max’s direction. Drew turned and slid past the gamer, peering around the corner. There he saw another man sneaking their way, hugging the wall of the empty shed where Melanie was held captive. He could hear the dog barking, and Melanie slamming her fists against the inside wall. The stranger paused, as if listening. Drew shot him through the right eye.
He rejoined Max, nodding to Cliff that he had gotten the “sneaker”.
“You’ve already killed several of my men,” Mason said, not shouted. “They were my friends. I know what it’s like to lose friends. Surely you don’t want to lose anymore. Give them up and be done with it.”
A woman—probably Lena—let out a scream. It was followed by a rifle blast, and then a large caliber handgun blast. Travis glanced at him wide-eyed, then peeked around his own corner to shoot Cliff a questioning look. Cliff shrugged.
“That sounded like a .357,” Max whispered. “Lena has a .357.”
“I thought Melanie didn’t like guns here,” Drew said. “And we didn’t bring any .357s.”
Max shrugged.
The sounds of footfalls on the gravel brought them back to reality. Several men were headed their way. Travis turned to his left, raising the shotgun as he side-stepped toward Drew. He let out two blasts in quick succession, rolling over to land next to Drew and Max.
“Damn it,” he growled. “That hurt. Got two of ‘em.”
Drew patted him on the back, and dashed to the next shed, going around it and toward Cliff. Before he could get Cliff’s attention, the man disappeared around the corner. A hail of automatic fire followed, and then a triumphant
“booyah!”
There was more gunfire, another shotgun blast, and even a short burst of 9mm fire. Max had fired.
“Good going, Max,” he said to himself.
He turned the corner and fired on full auto toward another group, dropping two of them before his mag was empty. He ducked back, squatting to drop his magazine and load another. But he had no others.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
He turned around to go back to Max and the others, stopping dead in his tracks as he saw Mason standing there, smiling.
“Found you,” he said, raising a revolver and pointing it right at Drew’s face. The world seemed to slow down then, and Drew’s heart pounded in his ears. His vision blurred as Mason’s smile slowly spread across his face. The triple click of a revolver hammer being cocked echoed in his ears like a horror movie.
This is it,
he thought.
What a bullshit way to go.
Drew closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and waited for the deafening blast.
Melanie pounded her fists against the walls, cursing and growling in rage in the total darkness. Mami whined and scratched at the door, causing light to flash in periodically as the doors were pushed slightly open with her efforts.
Melanie pictured the faces of the two hated intruders. Their smug looks and beady eyes were burned into her brain, and those metal images released adrenaline into her body. She loved the hot, quickened feeling it gave her; she always had. She never felt more alive than when she was enraged. Hatred and conflict fueled her. It was her “crack”.
“Let me out!!!!”
she hissed through clenched teeth.