A New World: Return (11 page)

“Hooah, sir!”
 
Gonzalez responds.

I reload and add my rounds to an atmosphere thick with steel and the smell of gunpowder.
 
The rafters are full of night runners leaping their way towards us.
 
Bodies fall from the heights as fire is shifted from Horace’s group and from Robert’s and mine.
 
The top of the shelves are clear.
 
They’ve shifted strategy
, I think feeling my M-4 kick back slightly into my shoulder.
 
Wow!
 
They’re able to shift strategy as a group.
 
That’s something to throw into the bag of knowledge
.

The lane ahead is littered with bodies.
 
Live ones scramble across the pile only to fall to the ferocious firing of Gonzalez and McCafferty, adding to the growing number lying on the floor, drawing ever closer.
 
“Robert,” I say grabbing his shoulder to get his attention. “You’ll follow Gonzalez.”

“Okay,” he responds quickly with the wide eyes of intense adrenaline that is coursing through his body.

“McCafferty, fall back to me and we’ll cover the rear!”
 
I yell.
 
“Gonzalez, go now!”

They both stand and walk backward firing into the night runners as they go.
 
I continue to put bursts of fire into the rafters, picking out night runners there and see them fall as the steel impacts their flesh.
 
The light from our flashlights cannot reach far back so we are only able to take out the ones that leap into our range.
 
Multiple lights probe the ceiling and rafters above.
 
Sparks fly from the steel beams as near misses ricochet into the darkness.
 
Red tracers streak upward from the store front and our position.

As she reaches my position, Gonzalez turns and catches my eye.
 
Giving a head nod, she proceeds past to lead our retreat out of here.
 
The night runners still rush our position on the floor.
 
There must be hundreds here
, I think.
 
I shift my fire to the ones on the ground ahead taking one out just twenty feet away.
 
Blood sprays from its chest and neck as multiple rounds from my carbine strike it.
 
Its head, almost severed by the force of the rounds, falls sideways as blood gushes and squirts from the severed arteries.
 
Its body kicks out to the side spinning to the ground.
 
I feel part of the spray splash against my cheek and forehead.

“Robert, Go!”
 
I yell and notice only the decrease of fire that signals his departure.

“McCafferty, you have the top rafters and shelves as we move.
 
I have the ground,” I shout across to where she has taken up position.

“You got it sir,” she yells back.

“Horace, we’re on our way. Did you get the wounded?”
 
I ask pressing the radio transmit button.

“We have him, sir, but we have another one down,” she responds.

“Get them outside and be ready to go,” I say quickly.

I hear her answer on the radio but cannot make out her reply.

There’s no time to ask for it to be repeated.
 
I drop two more to the floor, the last one falling almost at my feet and reload.
 
I pull a mag out of my vest taking notice that it is the last one.
 
Uh oh, that’s not good
, I think sliding it in and releasing the bolt.
 
More night runners pound the floor behind the two still in their death throes at my feet.
 
I flip to semi and light flashes from the end of my barrel taking the nearest one in the head.
 
Its head snaps backwards and its feet leave the ground, the body hitting the linoleum on its back with a thud.

“I’m on my last mag.
 
We’ll have to make this quick.
 
Let’s go!”
 
I shout to McCafferty.

“Me too!
 
I’m right with you,” she responds.

We stand and begin walking quickly backwards, McCafferty taking down night runners that have come above us in the rafters, the sound of their bodies slamming into the shelves and floor evidence of her deadly aim.
 
I keep the ones in front at bay.
 
Head shots are easy at this distance but I am quickly running out of ammo. Pop! Pop! Pop!
 
I am rapidly moving my aim from head to head as we retreat but more replace them.
 
We pass the next aisle behind us, with the central mass still only twenty feet away, neither gaining nor losing distance between us.
 
The speed at which they are running at us causes them to drop literally at my feet and they will quickly be upon us when I run out of ammo. I glance around to mark our progress and see the lights from Gonzalez and Robert round the corner of the end aisle.

“We’re going to have to make a run for it,” I yell to McCafferty across the lane. “Now go!”

I see her turn and begin running down the lane and turn the corner.
 
Focusing back to my front, I pick up the pace of my backward steps.
 
Not quite running but close.
 
Tripping and falling would not be in my best interest right now and not because of some labor and industries injury claim.
 
It would be a bit worse than that.
 
I wonder if I can sue the store for harboring dangerous creatures.
 
Pop! Pop!
 
My rounds meet and intersect two more heads splashing blood and brain matter on those behind as I round the corner and enter the aisle.

Glancing over my shoulder, keeping my direction and most of my attention on those about to round the corner, I see Gonzalez and Robert running for the front door silhouetted by the light streaming in from outside.
 
McCafferty is following close behind them concentrating on the ceiling above.
 
Almost home
, I think.
 
I refocus on where the night runners are just rounding the corner.
 
Our gunfire seems to have had little effect on their numbers although I do notice they are now only concentrated in certain areas as opposed to seemingly spread across the entire interior.
 
Still backing toward the entrance, I hear the click of a bolt running dry behind me.
 
That click registers immediately and seems louder than all of the other sounds filling the store.

“I’m out!”
 
McCafferty yells in my direction.

“Make a run for the door, I’ll cover,” I shout still focused on the horde closing in.

I feel the kick against my shoulder three more times sending three additional night runners skidding on the floor amidst sprays of blood and brain before the same, heart sickening click emits from my M-4.
 
I have exhausted my ammo.
 
Why can’t this be like the hero books or comics where the last round kills the last enemy inches from the hero?
 
Well, this definitely isn’t the happy, ride off into the sunset ending I would have liked
.
 
The horde is still coming and closing the distance and I am now carrying a paper weight.
 
I’m looking for the white-horsed hero to ride in and sweep away the battlefield, the enemy cowering in terror.
 
Instead, it is my heart that is sinking and the uh oh factor has invaded my senses.
 
The adrenaline increases and time slows even more.

Twenty feet away becomes ten as I continue back pedaling away.
 
I can’t take the time to turn and run as I know they would be upon me immediately.
 
They have the momentum of already running and will be upon me in the time it will take me to turn leaving me with my back to them and defenseless.
 
I reverse my M-4 as the first one closes to within five feet, thrusting the butt forward into its face, connecting with the bridge of its nose, snapping its head backwards and bringing it to a standstill.
 
The others behind plow into the now stopped night runner sending it crashing to the floor, slowing their rapid advance momentarily and giving me a touch of breathing space.
 
As long as that breath is a short one that is.

They continue, running over and around the body on the floor.
 
A sense of eagerness emits from the group as they close in on their prey.
 
That prey being me.
 
I can remember several times being chased by folks who were not too keen on my being in their back yard, but that feeling of uh-oh has never been this intense.
 
Mostly because they weren’t five feet away from me and I had ammo to keep them at a friendly distance.
 
The thought of lowering my shoulder and charging into them vanishes as quickly as it arrived.
 
I would be overwhelmed in a moment.
 
Were these “normal people,” that thought would have stuck around longer.

I step to my left and thrust the butt end of my carbine once again, the shoulder plate striking the temple of a creature with a crack snapping its head to the side and back.
 
The night runner loses its balance and it sprawls to its left across the path of the others.
 
My mind registers the absence of gunfire that was so prevalent inside moments ago.
 
I have no time to figure out the why of it but can only assume that the others are safely outside or the night runners in the other directions have been eliminated.
 
Or, everyone has run out of ammo.
 
I log the ammo consumption away to be dealt with later and hopefully not as I am contemplating my mistakes while sitting on a cloud strumming a harp.
 
Not that I would necessarily be a candidate for that anyway.

Night runners grab and push aside the one that had crashed into them blocking their path momentarily allowing me to gain a few precious feet towards the front door. The shelves to my right, containing a few sundry items, are illuminated by the splash of light from my flashlight but also begin to lighten from the light coming through the front door.
 
Faint yet, but still lighter letting me know that the salvation of light is drawing closer.
 
I’ve managed to keep them slightly off balance and away so far but they are so close and the action is quick.
 
If time was not slowed, they would sweep over me like a tidal wave.

I repeatedly thrust into their heads with the butt of my rifle, feeling it connect with each thrust; each time rapidly withdrawing my M-4 only enough to switch to a different target and hit it with sufficient force.
 
Not wanting to kill at this point but to keep them at bay as I continue inching backward toward the light amidst the shrieks emitting from horde of night runners to my front.
 
Shrieks of frustration, pain, anger and excitement fill my ears.
 
I hear someone shouting behind me but the words are drowned out by the din.
 
Hands from the night runners try to fend off my repeated thrusts.
 
They reach towards me, wanting to take hold and pull me to the ground.
 
Wanting to rend my flesh.

I notice the linoleum below my feet is partially lit from the light streaming in from the front doors.
 
One of the creatures knocks my gun away from its trajectory which throws my attack off target.
 
A night runner gets inside of my M-4 that was keeping them that uncomfortable five feet away and launches itself at me.
 
Seeing it get past and leave the ground, I brace myself mentally for the inevitable impact.
 
Dropping my carbine, I bring my arms in close in order to keep some semblance of distance between us after the collision.
 
Timing it right, I grab the front if its torn and ragged shirt, lean back slightly to absorb some of the impact, pivot on my left foot the moment it hits, and launch myself and it in the direction of the front door.
 
The force and ferocity of the impact, even at such a close range, surprises me.
 
The strength and agility of these things continues to amaze me.
 
I am going to have to keep this in forefront of my mind at all times.

“Come on you little shit! You wanna play!”
 
I yell as we launch through the air.

I continue the roll to my left as we sail through the air using its momentum to assist me, my hands locked on its shirt, its shrieking, gray face inches away from mine, my roar of effort and intense adrenaline combine with its shriek.
 
I feel rage building within as we land on the floor with a grunt, with it beneath me, and we slide along the linoleum upon impact.

The night runner begins to thrash and shriek with an increased intensity. I release my grip with my right hand bringing it back to smash back down on its throat for a killing stroke, intent on punching through the throat to its spinal column, obliterating the cartilage airway.
 
I pause when I notice the thrashing is not an attempt at defense or to get at me.
 
Its face is turning a bright red before my eyes.
 
It is then that I notice our flight through the air and subsequent slide has brought us into the direct light radiating from outside.
 
A rifle butt enters into my range of vision and impacts the night runner square on the temple, rendering it unconscious and silencing the shrieks.
 
I look up to see Horace standing by my side as she withdraws her carbine from the impact.