Beyond the Barriers (Novella): Ghouls (19 page)

It's late and I can't write any more. It was hard enough getting used to sleeping in Fortress; now we have this temporary home around us and a new friend.

* * *

A
fter losing Fortress last night
, we crashed with our new friend Roz. She’s about five-foot-five and Latino. She’s got dark brown hair and she’d probably clean up pretty nice. Roz is cute, I won’t lie, and she’s got some killer bod, at least the little I noticed while I had my arm draped over her shoulder last night. She also looks like she will kill me if I look at her that way again.

My leg is a mess. I hurt my ankle last night and now it’s swollen, but I don't think it's a full sprain. I can walk on it, even though it's more of a hobble than an actual steady stride. Joel Kelly just looked at me like I was a puss. Fuck you, Marine-boy. I did it protecting you and Roz.

Roz tossed me an ace bandage so I could wrap it tight. I wish I had ice. I also wish a Burger King drive-through worked by hot strippers would suddenly appear where the front window is boarded up. I wish I had a way to go back in time a few years and tell Jenny Collins that I liked her. Not love, just liked. We did some shit over her clothes, but I know I could have gotten her with a little more skill. Might as well wish for a tropical get-away while I'm at it.

Joel was nothing but unhappy smiles and pissy Marine attitude. He stormed around all morning. Stripped his gun, put it back together, counted rounds, swore a lot, and snapped at either one of us if we asked him what the plan was.

I asked about eight times.

We had water and food, but mostly some kind of emergency rations Roz's father had collected over the last couple of years. They’d started the end of the world out with a three-month supply of food and clean drinking water for four, but after inviting in a few family members and a kid from the neighborhood, they’d used up a decent chunk. We drank sparingly, but it was hard not to guzzle. The last time I had clean water was about a week ago.

Joel finally got cabin fever and said he was going to check on Fortress.

"I'll go with you."

"Rest your foot. We may need to get mobile soon. I'll be right back."

"Dude. I'll go. You can't make it without me."

"Believe it or not, I'm a Marine and I don't need a gimp squid tagging along, asking me to wipe his nose."

"Whatever. If you run into trouble what are you going to do?"

"At the first sign of a real threat I'll come back. Get some sleep and don't give Roz any shit."

Like I wanted a knife in my chest.

"Your idea of trouble and my idea are different. You think a pack of Z's is a challenge. I think they're a death squad."

"Whatever. Just chill. I'll be back. Here – write about Reynolds, because he deserves it." Joel dropped the log book in my lap.

He'd already strapped on his combat gear and filled his pouches with magazines and a couple of energy bars from Roz's stash. He downed a bottle of water in three gulps and slid the blinds aside to take a look.

Shit. That was one day I wanted to erase from my memory. But he had a point. If we were to honor Reynolds’ sacrifice, it needed to start with his story. I can’t say that his story will ever be more important than those of the millions that have already died, but to us, he was a hero. The kind you hear about on the nightly news.

Jesus. The media, TV, newspapers, and cell towers. None of that shit works anymore. None of it. And that is just the start of the hell we now live in.

Joel shot me the finger and then closed the front door quietly behind him.

* * *

W
eapons
:

• 1 Colt 1911 .45
  
• 22 Rounds of .45 ammo
  
• 1 Heckler and Koch MP5-N sub machine gun
  
• 14 Rounds 9X19 Parabellum
  
• 1 large knife
  

Near distance - a massive fire. Gunships. Jets rocketing overhead. Explosions. Fire. Smoke and chaos.

Ahead was the biggest disaster—the USS McClusky. My home for the last year. She crashed into the pier at close to full speed and that was all she wrote. But that wasn't the only thing burning. The rest of the base was a crazy mess of flames, smoke, and gunfire. Even from this distance, we heard the guns, and they were not being kind to whoever they were aimed at.

A haze settled in as the morning sun rose, further obscuring our view of the naval base. The view snapped quickly back, however, thanks to a plane that roared close to the surface of the water.

“The fuck was that?” I yelled over the noise.

“That was an A-10 warthog. They fly low and blow up tanks and stuff.”

“Do you think the same shit that went down on the ship is happening there?” Reynolds pointed.

“It’s some shit. That’s for sure,” Kelly said.

The Marines went over their gear as we closed in. We had to angle around the piers because there didn't appear to be a way to climb up. A ship rides up about twenty feet in the air, so that means the piers are a long way up and I wasn't sure we’d be able to Bruce Willis our asses up some rope.

Luckily, a smaller pier cut to the south of us, so we followed land until we could angle in. Planes continued to rocket over head. To my horror, the fuckers were shooting at people on the ground. Machine guns rattled and spent munitions fell.

“Fucking hell!” Reynolds said exactly what I was thinking.

Another jet started firing from directly overhead. A building bloomed into flame in the distance and then an explosion from another section of the base roared into the air.

“Jesus! Are we at war?” Reynolds was once again thinking my thoughts.

“I don’t know. Should we even try to make it to land? Maybe we can paddle toward the city,” I said.

“It’s the base. We gotta help.” Kelly made a lot of sense – unfortunately.

A couple of helicopters shook the raft as they flew by. They settled over the eastern part of the base and opened fire on something. More flames rose into the air. The shots weren't confined to just the aircraft. From the distance we picked up on plenty of small arms fire.

“It’s the same stuff from the boat. The same goddamn stuff but its spread all over the base,” Reynolds said.

“What if it’s more widespread than just the base? What then?” I felt like I was whining but Kelly got a faraway look in his eye.

We came alongside a small tender and I used the railing to pull us along until we were flush with a pier. Reynolds crawled over first with his MP-5 pointing ahead. Kelly covered him and then I was next. I didn't have a weapon but I spotted a large toolbox near a small ship and lifted the lid. Inside were a number of screw drivers, nuts, bolts, and assorted tools, but the prize was a pipe wrench nearly two feet long. I lifted it and found the heft to my liking.

Kelly shot me a questioning look so I mimed bashing in a head.

“Too heavy.”

“Maybe for you, ya scrawny Marine,” I said.

He smirked and nodded toward Reynolds, who was taking up position next to a building with corrugated metal siding. I was surprised they hadn't left my sorry ass yet. I didn't have a fancy gun and hadn't fired one in years with the exception of video games. In virtual life I’d probably killed an entire nation of people; in real life I had no desire to shoot at another person for as long as I lived.

I followed because I didn't know what else to do. I knew the base, which meant I knew where the commissary and bars were. I knew how to get off the base for the same reason. Food, beer, and occasionally to find a date, even if it had to be paid for in Tijuana.

I could always desert these guys and just find the barracks I'd stayed in a few times, but what if that was also under attack? What a clusterfuck my day was turning into.

Gunfire to the west drew my attention. I snapped my wrench up like I was going to bat bullets out to the air. Reynolds had extended the stock of the little machine gun and moved ahead of us in a quick, steady manner. He slipped to the side of a building, slid along it to a corner and then peeked around. He motioned and Kelly followed while I brought up the rear.

Something roared nearby, causing me to spin in fear. I hit the side of the metal building with the wrench and immediately regretted it. The sound was like a Chinese game-show gong in the morning air.

A column of smoke rose from the direction of the noise that has startled me, and then an unholy explosion shook the ground. A building went up in flames, the roof disintegrating as it exploded.

A HUMVEE overflowing with people zipped past us. A guy hung onto the roof while someone else batted at the figure from the hatch. Then it was gone, careening behind another building. It grew silent for a few seconds before the vehicle crashed.

“Let’s check it out,” Joel said.

“Let’s not and say we did,” I muttered. “Fuck this, dude. We need to find someone in charge and report in. We have to tell them about the McClusky.”

“I hear ya, but something is going on. Something bad. Caution is what we need right now,” Reynolds said.

“And that caution means investigating crashed HUMVEES? That's what just passed, right?” I asked.

“It was, and it had Marine insignia, so it’s our duty.”

“Oh Christ. At least give me a gun.”

“As soon as I have a spare,” Joel Kelly said and clapped me on the shoulder.

Joel nodded and moved toward the sound of the crash with his handgun ready. Reynolds moved behind me and covered us as I followed the Marine.

Then someone staggered around the side of the building, but stopped when he saw us. The guy was dressed in BDU's. His head, face, and mustache were all covered in blood. It dribbled from a wound on his forehead that wasn't going to stop bleeding anytime soon, unless he put a bandage on it.

“Damn, man,” I said. “You okay?”

“I don’t think he’s okay,” Reynolds said.

Joel grabbed my shirtsleeve and shook his head.

“But he looks hurt and he’s a squid—so there. You guys and your ‘always going back for your own’.”

“Dude ain't normal. Look at him,” Reynolds said.

He was right.

The sailor advanced on us with an unsteady walk, like he was drunk off his ass. He snarled and moaned as he stumbled over his own two feet. One arm came up and that’s when I noticed that his other arm was hanging at a weird angle. Not only that, but some of his fingers were completely gone.

“Is he like one of the guys on the ship?”

“Looks like it,” Reynolds said.

“Sir. Sir!” Joel yelled and advanced.

Goddamn Marine. I moved ahead to block his aim because I wasn't going to watch him gun down another squid. If this guy was in shock from the accident, I didn't want these trigger-happy gun jocks shooting him just because he couldn't walk right.

Then the sailor attacked me.

I batted his arms aside and wished to hell I’d never gotten in Joel’s way. The blood-splattered guy was crazy and he reeked of shit! He grabbed for me, but his hands didn't have enough fingers to get a hold on my shirt. He swung his other arm like a club and caught me across the temple. I briefly saw stars, but I’d been hit harder by one of my brothers and brushed it off.

I pushed him back but he swung his arms up again and opened his trap. Oh, fuck me, but that was some horror. His mouth was filled with broken teeth and blood. His tongue dangled out on a strip of muscle and flopped against his chin. He snarled and groaned but couldn't get his tongue back in. It would have been funny as shit if he hadn't been attempting to eat me.

I staggered backward and almost fell, but Joel really did have my back.

Joel used his body to keep me from falling and then pushed me off. That was all I needed.

I swung because I was scared. Of course, at that point I’d only seen the things on the ship and they’d frightened me, but I was also in denial, like the whole event wasn't really happening. Yet here was another of the crazy things and he wanted to kill me, not talk.

He drooled red saliva. When he tried to snarl again, blood bubbled out and something pink fell out of his mouth. It smacked the ground and I was left to stare at a piece of partially chewed human skin.

That’s when I lost it. I swung the wrench with a cry and hit the bastard across the side of his head. The tool weighed about eight pounds, so it was practically a battering ram.

He dropped and didn't move again.

“Nice work,” Joel said.

I wanted to puke. I’ll never forget that sound, man. I’ll never forget what it felt like to hit a human like that. I was horrified and I was disgusted.

More gunfire all around us and then another series of jets roared overhead. I ducked but looked up as they departed. A few seconds later, the sounds of explosions reverberated in the direction of the city.

Joel looked troubled, gestured for me to follow, and moved out.

They were hitting the city? Good Christ, how far had this spread?

We came across the crash a few minutes later. The Humvee had struck the side of a building filled with ship parts. Whoever had been on top of the military truck was smashed against the wall in a smear of blood and gore that would haunt my nightmares for days to come. Shit! This whole damn day was going to necessitate a hell of a lot of therapy.