Dead Moon: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (14 page)

26

It’s been three streets since we were attacked by the rooftop surfer girl. Since then, we’ve rode in silence, taking the last few minutes to collect ourselves. Vinny is as attentive as ever, keeping us traveling north towards our approaching goal. We’re only managing a little over 20mph now with the traffic and body count rising. Me? Well, I’m leaning against my armrest, eyes closed, trying desperately to rid myself of this massive headache.

My mind is so done that I can barely feel the pulsating pain in my left biceps and triceps. The puncture wounds weren’t as deep as I thought, but boy did they hurt like hell when Vinny cleaned them out.

I flinch as I remember the alcohol mixing with my blood. Normally, a cut that requires a bath in disinfectants would require some sort of stitching, like my shoulder wound, but seeing as there isn’t an operational walk-in clinic in these parts…we settled for gauze and a wrap.

Could have used Betty again…
The memory of her stitching me up in Joan’s living room brings a smile to my face. The way she took me in and ultimately died helping me is something I’ll never forget. I’ll honor her by surviving.

I flex my arm, testing the muscles. The last thing I need is for it to stay completely immobile and tighten up. I need to stay in working order and favoring my arm would be a bad thing. Not until we’re safe anyways.

Safe.

I’ve almost completely forgotten the meaning of the word. Lately, the only thing I’ve been thinking of is death, or at least the prospect of it. It literally surrounds us in every direction.

Stop it,
I think, scolding the thought away.
Give yourself some credit.
A normal person would have hidden away like Betty did. Even Vinny stayed put because he saw a limitation in his actions.
You’ve pushed forward regardless of the odds. Stay positive.

I’m about to continue my inner pep talk and list off the near-death experiences I’ve miraculously survived, when the vision of the Siren kneeling over me replays in my mind. It’s not the gross part, mind you. It’s the face. It happened so fast at the time that I didn’t see it.

The bitch really did smile at me, didn’t she?
The implications take root and they’re mind-numbing to say the least. These things—the Sirens at least—understand what they’re doing and are enjoying it. She sniffed the air, barred her teeth, and grinned in satisfaction. The Siren was pleased with her actions. It’s like an Orca playing with its meal. The killer whale will tenderize its snack before brutally killing and devouring it.

My eyes snap open as another thought goes through my mind, and I voice it aloud. “Do you think the Unseen have an endgame?”

“Huh?” Vinny replies, thrown off by the question. He was staring straight ahead, zoned out. I’m not even sure if he heard it.

“The creatures,” I repeat, “do you think they have an agenda—an endgame?”

“Oh, well…” He stops and thinks for a moment. “If they did, they would have to have some sort of intelligence or some kind of leadership. So far I’ve only seen predatory behavior. Like a tiger stalking its prey. Yes, they are smart… But intelligent?”

“She smiled at me,” I say, seeing her face in my mind’s eye again.

“Who did?”

I point above our heads. “The one that yanked me out of the truck and tried to take my arm off.” I drop my bloodied arm back into my lap. “She smiled at me when she tried to eat my face.”

“You sure it was a genuine smile?”

“I do.”

“Well, then… I—”

He doesn’t get to finish. Another flash of red light erupts from somewhere inside the park. It ripples like before, but carries an even more liquidly feel. It’s like looking underwater at the pool light.

“You think Abaddon landed in the lake?”

I see Vinny shrug from the corner of my vision as I continue to stare off into the trees on my right. “It’s possible,” he says. “I’d rather not find out though.”

“I’m with you man.”

Losing track of the streets, I look and see that we’re only a couple blocks away from the museum. I can’t believe I actually made it this far. I was so blind to my goal that I really never took the time to realize how asinine this journey has been.

Glad I didn’t.

“You think they made it?”

Vinny looks over to me, contemplating my question. It’s been itching on the back of my mind since I left my apartment that first night. His too probably. What if I get to the museum and find Jill dead? What happens then?

“Knowing Jillian and Carla…” Vinny says, smirking, lost in what must be a happy memory of some kind. “I’d say they did. They can take care of themselves if it really comes to it. Your wife is a tough one to bring down. It’s why she’s so successful in the courtroom.”

“And Carla?” I ask.

This gets a full-blown laugh out of Vinny. “Between her nagging and her shooting skills, I’d say she’s already killed her share of them. Either that, or the creatures killed themselves to end their own suffering.” He laughs some more and I join in. “Carla can have that kind of effect on people sometimes. It’s one reason I have her down in the shop so much. The people who are truthfully interested will deal with her. The window shoppers will leave straightaway, turned off by her natural…
disposition
.”

This gets a smile out of me, but not another laugh. I don’t have the energy to belt out a second round of guffaws. My head is killing me, not to mention my body too. I can’t feel a single part of me that doesn’t hurt. Check that… My third rib on my left side is slightly tender, but isn’t actively pulsating with pain. So I’ve got
that
going for me…

“Looks like we’re about to find out,” I say, looking down the street. The clearing is just up ahead on the left. I can even see the museum’s stairs a little as the front entrance comes into view.

“Argh!” I shout in pain. The red pulse intensifies, coming out of nowhere, momentarily blinding me.

“Damnit!” Vinny yells, slamming on the brakes. We jolt to a stop, sliding into a parked car. Through watering eyes, I see him covering his own face.

“You okay?” I ask, not even sure if I am.

“I think so,” he replies. “Felt like I looked at the sun.”

“You good to drive?” I hope he is, because I’m sure as hell not.

I open my eyes, wiping the tears away, blinking them hard. Focusing my vision proves difficult, but a few seconds later I start to see clearer. Vinny is doing the same, and is looking at me.

“What?” I ask, wiping another set of tears away.

“Not you,” he says, looking
past
me, also blinking heavily.

“Huh?” I ask, confused.

I see his chin tilt up, directing me to turn and look behind me. I do and curse under my breath. Back towards the lake and the now dimming burst of light, is movement. The trees are shaking and bending, being shoved out of the way like the T-Rex in Jurassic Park.

Then, I hear it. The dead quiet of the city surrounding us gives away what is coming. It’s a sound I’ve heard before.

“Get us out of here,” I say, scrambling into the backseat.

“What are you—”

“Now, damnit! They’re coming.”

His eyes go wide, understanding. A massive wave of the Unseen are heading our way, but it’s not only the horde of creatures that I’m worried about. It’s the flash before the park came to life. Something in there is directing the monsters, telling them where to go. Movement catches my still recovering eyes. I look and see a blurry figure retreating back into the trees.

Shit.

It was a lookout—a scout. I’m sure of it. Why else would it retreat and not just attack? The Unseen are relaying information with one another somehow. I glance back into the tree line, visualizing the lake and the
heavenly body
that’s in it. Abaddon is somehow
alive
and leading the mass towards us. The rest of the creatures may even be like some sort of hive mind, thinking as one. Even if it’s not a true intelligence, it’s still an awful theory regardless of the true outcome. I seriously doubt anyone has had the time to properly analyze what’s actually going on in the park too.

On my hands and knees in the backseat, I feel the truck slide backwards, away from the wrecked sedan we
bumped
. Steadying myself, I throw back the blanket hiding the crate wedged behind Vinny. Inside are a dozen large mason jars of the clear, highly flammable grain alcohol. I lift one out along with one of the rags that is acting as padding and get a horrible idea.

“Hey, Vinny…”

“What?” he asks. His eyes flick up to the rearview mirror, watching me.

“You got a lighter?”

27

I know what you’re thinking, and no, you’re wrong. While being a badass and throwing Molotov cocktails all over Manhattan would be very amusing and a great reliever of stress, it’s not at all what I have planned. Plus, it wouldn’t work against the sizable force coming at us. I’m not exactly sure how many of them there’ll be, but I have little faith that fire alone will detour them. We need something bigger…more powerful.

Vinny screeches to a halt just before we get to the museum’s front entrance, parking the truck behind one of New York’s many buses. Protection for what’s coming next…

“You sure this is going to work? Sounds a little
Hollywood
to me.”

While I completely agree with Vinny’s apt description of my plan, I do, in fact, believe it’ll work. Besides, if anything, it’ll serve as a distraction while we attempt to make our way inside the museum.

“I just hope someone inside sees us and lets us in,” I say, pouring the last of the jars on the middle step. The collection of smashed and turned over vehicles just outside the building should take care of everything else. All they needed was a fuse. “If we can’t get in then this is all for naught. We’ll burn to death out here if we don’t make it inside.” The odor of gasoline is proof enough. It’s everywhere and should also help my little idea go up in flames… Literally.

The smell of twelve emptied moonshine jars is absolutely nauseating, making me wince. The strength of the liquid was bad enough when I opened the first one, but now with all of them unscrewed and poured out in the road and at my feet, the damn stuff is bringing another set of tears to my eyes. It’s like standing too close to a campfire and getting a face full of the fumes wafting in the breeze.

Through salty eyes, I look up and see the first wave of Unseen pour out of the trees lining the eastern side of the street. What must be at least thirty of them leap through the brush, landing atop cars and other debris covering the sidewalk and street.

“Frances?” Vinny asks, looking at me.

I tilt my head back towards the museum’s front doors and we slowly backpedal up the incline. I hold out my hand, never looking away from the slowly advancing creatures, silently asking for Vinny’s lighter.

He quickly plucks it from his jacket pocket and softly places it in my palm, just as I stumble over a body on the steps. I don’t fall, but it’s enough of a jarring movement to get the monsters full attention.

Crap.

The one closest to us barks and grunts and then springs into action, leaping over another car. The Goblin hits the adjacent sidewalk with a boom and a splat.

I glance over and see the smoking barrel of Vinny’s shotgun. His job is to take out anything that gets too close while I play the part of the delinquent pyro.

Another skitters its way around the mass of wrecked cars, taking a shell in the leg, spinning it to the ground. Another boom silences it forever. But unfortunately for us… It sends the rest of the mob into a frenzied state.

“Now, Frances!”

Just as the main wave of creatures enter the maze of cars, I kneel and light the tied together the trail of rags, acting as my moonshine-soaked wick. The flame quickly shoots down the stairs until it hits the first of the puddles.

One-by-one the cars begin to explode into fireballs, their gas tanks erupting from the flames. As each of the vehicles detonate, another small group of the Unseen is incinerated and blown apart.

The negative of my plan? Shit flies everywhere as the explosions intensify and duplicate. There were at least twenty or so cars entangled in the street, every one of them having a taste of the moonshiner’s brew.

I raise my Glock and fire off two shots, taking down a Goblin that was charging us…on fire. It reminded me of those monks that set themselves ablaze. This one wasn’t protesting though. This one wanted nothing better than to have himself a
Frank
furter.

Vinny’s shotgun booms again as he lets loose with another volley of rounds, clipping two more creatures and killing a third.

The car closest to us explodes, sending a heatwave up and over us, signifying that it’s now time to run and retreat inside the museum. Keeping our weapons somewhat trained on the steps below us, Vinny and I shamble up to the front door, banging on it with all our might.

Another massive explosion catches my attention and I turn, witnessing three of the Goblins get thrown into a statue of Teddy Roosevelt. His horse takes one of them in the muzzle, a resounding
gong
echoing through the air. The
Rough Rider
himself receives the other two. One of the Unseen harmlessly falls to the ground, its ragged clothes on fire—as the other lands limp in the president’s lap, dead, missing its legs.

A piece of shrapnel pings off the museum’s siding, flying right past my head.
Yikes.
I turn again and start to bang on the doors with Vinny, feverously attempting to get someone’s attention.

“Something…” Vinny says inbetween bangs, “tells me we should have found a way in first.”

I’m tempted to agree with him, but inside I know what we did was the right thing. If we had stalled our attempt at setting our trap, we may not have even had a chance. The only reason we have any shot is that the horde is being held at bay…or dead.

Hopefully dead,
I think, continuing my assault on the locked door.

A screeching sound fills the air around me and I instinctively duck, seeing a clawed hand, swipe itself over my head. I move to block the attack, but only end up losing my gun as it clatters away from me down the stairs. I spin away and unfurl my baton, imitating the wild, uncontrolled attack.

The difference? I connected… It didn’t.

I bludgeon the thing in the side of the head, hearing the telltale crack of bone as I connect. The Unseen falls at my feet as another one leaps towards Vinny’s turned back.

Not having my gun and too far way to use my baton, I leap, tackling the creature to the steps. We land hard, making me let go of my baton too, but it was worth it. I drive the beast into the unforgiving stairs, hearing it grunt in protest as I do my best to flatten it. I roll off of it and get to my feet three steps lower, readying my only other weapon available…my fists. So far the strategy of waiting has worked out fine. Wait for them to make their first move and then react. If I play defense first and watch the way it moves, I can deduce its ability and speed.

Be the more aggressive attacker when you have to be, son. Don’t go all out right away. Be half Ali and half Balboa. Be patient and wait for the opportunity. Then, attack!
The voice of my dad rings true in my ears. He was the fighter, worshipping the greatest fighter ever, Muhammad Ali. I was a kid at the time, worshipping the greatest
fictional
fighter ever, Rocky Balboa. It was a way of getting through to me as a young punk.

So I wait…and get slammed into from behind, cracking my skull against the stone stairs of the Museum of Natural History. My mind fades as I hear the Goblin hiss in my ear, gripping my jacket from behind. I try to push up and stand, but I’m down for the count. My arms give out. My body is cold and my thoughts fuzzy.

Another random memory flashes through my vulnerable mind. It’s a hard one to think about, but a strong one. Believe it or not, Jill and I at one point tried to have a family. It was about five years ago, right before things
really
turned for the worse.

I found Jill sitting on the toilet crying, pregnancy test in hand. Then as she leaned back against the tank, I saw two more. All negative. It was the third time we tried. Jill even went as far as studying her ovulation periods, trying to time it perfectly. She was even on a bevy of fertility drugs. Still no dice. Even a specialist said it was going to be tough.

I entered and kneeled in front of her, laying my head in her lap. We both cried together for what seemed like hours. Some people find strength in such adversity… I think Jill and I found resentment that night. We subconsciously blamed one another for what happened. I’m not saying it’s right or anything, but I promise if I can survive this I’ll make it right somehow.

“Frank!”

My inner movie reel is interrupted by a high-pitch voice as it echoes in my ear. As my eyes begin to close, I look up to the front doors of the museum. All I see is a blobby red thing step out. The person… Is it a person? Either way,
it
also has red feet which is a strange sight.
Red feet? Why does a waving blob even have feet?
My concussed mind can’t make heads-or-tails of what I’m seeing, let alone question the existence of a red blob flapping in the breeze like...

Like Jill’s red dress!

But before I’m fully cognizant of what I just saw, my shattered mind and abused body give way to pain and exhaustion, and I close my eyes.

So close, baby…

The breathing of the creature is heavier—closer.

So close…

The last thing I feel is something pull on the collar of my jacket and begin to drag me away.