Dead Moon: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (8 page)

14

The development with the Siren-controlled Goblins is unquestionably the strangest moment yet. I mean, everything from the minute that damned rock fell from space has been odd, not just what has happened recently. It’s like every new discovery is worse than the one before.

After waiting another ten minutes, I finally emerge from
Harvey’s
. The new coat is much warmer than the last, being officially tested as I’m buffeted by another chilling breeze. The only thing I’ll miss, is the coat itself. It was a gift from Jill when I moved.

We met back in my hometown of West Palm Beach, Florida, while she was attempting to pass the bar to become the lawyer she is now. Her parents moved from New York for work when she was young.

I was a member of the Palm Beach Sheriff’s Office at the time, and hated every minute of it. But it was work, and I was good at it. It just sucked being stuck working the graveyard shifts. Jill and I never saw each other. I had applied to become a detective, but hadn’t heard any promising news.

I wanted to be a detective since I was a kid and when I told my folks I wanted to join the police force after graduating high school… Let’s just say they didn’t take it well. Mom immediately opened a bottle of wine and Dad went into the spare room and started on the speed bag. He said hitting things cleared his head.
Yikes.
But like most parents, they eventually started to support me once they realized how much I was helping people. Or at least trying to.

Jill got an offer from a firm in New York that she couldn’t pass up, and being newlyweds I obviously followed, picking up and moving away from the only town I ever lived in. Plus, she was about to easily double my salary. Thankfully, the people that hired her also had an in for me in the NYPD, having worked closely with them on several cases. So, we both moved and started our new careers together.

It was by far the scariest decision we ever had to make, but we quickly acclimated to the hustle-and-bustle of New York. Being from a much quieter suburban town in southern Florida, I never really liked the idea of living in an apartment building above a busy street. I would have preferred to stay put in Florida, but
hey
, you do things like this for the ones you love.

But I
really
do hate the brutally cold winters New York offers. So much so, that we go back home and bunk with my parents for two weeks every winter over Christmas and New Year’s. Jill is a bigger fan of the fast-paced lifestyle, but she’s completely onboard with me about the cold. Florida kids are pretty much spoiled with t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flop weather year round. There’s only about a week where you are required to breakout a hoodie, but after that it’s back to normal.

That’s where the jacket came into play. We moved to New York and I lacked any type of traditional cold weather clothes. Jill bought it as a thank-you gift, knowing I’d never go out and spend that much on one. It fit perfect from day one, fitting better and better as I broke it in further. I left it sitting on the counter back at Harvey’s. It was actually really hard to let it go.

No choice
, I think, refocusing on the task in front of me. I look to the right, mentally mapping out my next plan. I’m directly east of Central Park giving me a little hope that I’m so close. If the roads weren’t congested with the dead, I’d be able to just drive straight and true. That’s not the case, though. Bodies, both human and automotive, clutter the streets. People did what most would have done when the world was ending, they fled. They ran out of their homes and were immediately greeted by those that had turned.

Should have taken the NASA guy’s warning literally and stayed indoors
, I think, ignoring the irony that I also fled out into the streets. At least my actions weren’t those driven by fear. I, unlike ninety-nine-percent of the city, am still thinking straight and moving with purpose. I won’t go as far and say that I have a plan quite yet, but I can definitely say I have an endgame. I find peace in that I’m not just aimlessly roaming the boulevards.

The one mode of transportation that might work, is the only one I’ve yet to find. It would be super quick and easy to elude my hunters, but like I said, I’ve yet to see any.

I draw my Glock and move fast, staying as close to the buildings as possible. The only time I’ll venture out into the roads is if the sidewalks themselves are blocked. Some cars have aggressively
parked
themselves in the front windows of the first floor businesses lining each side of 65th.

Fires burn too, not a ton of them mind you, but there’s a light smoky haze to the air from time to time. I wish I carried a lighter, just in case. You never know when a large scale scorching of some kind can come in handy. If I had to bring down a building in order to stop these things, I would. No question.

Right now I’m only about a mile from the eastern gates of the park. Normally, I’d have scoffed at the distance. Jill and I would regularly walk that far just for the hell of it. Driving was normally out of the question, being more of a nuisance than it’s worth, and public transportation was just as bad.

Even worse depending on the cabbie you get.

Sometimes your feet were the quickest, safest, and definitely the cheapest way to travel. The subway system was the only other method I’d ever go for. Something about being in the controlled atmosphere of the cars, made it doable.

I stop at the corner of a building and peek out. Movement can be seen from deeper into the shadows, and I wait, watching. Then, it’s gone, returning the cold, eerie alley to a calm, but still creepy-as-hell state. The chilly, dank atmosphere makes me think of turn-of-the-century London. Under the current conditions, I can definitely picture Jack the Ripper stalking his way through these streets, picking off his prey with ease.

Speaking of old-timey England, Sherlock Holmes was the reason I wanted to become a detective in the first place. I loved reading about his ridiculous methods and seemingly crazy antics. Robert Downey Jr’s portrayal of him was flawless in my opinion. He perfectly captured Holmes’ wit and charm, but wasn’t shy about showing his tough and devilish side too. The perfect hero, really. He wasn’t all glitz and glam like some other protagonists. He was a drug addict and constantly got himself into trouble, relying on Watson to keep him in check and out of Scotland Yard. Sherlock was as human as the next man.

As human as the next man…

The statement has new meaning now.

I quickly cross the alley and hug the side of the building, stopping. I can’t go any further. A taxi cab is on its side, crumpled against the front door of a pizza joint I was quite fond of.

Damnit.

Gripping the pry bar in my left hand and the gun in my right, I dart out into the street and duck between two pinned sedans. They must’ve T-boned each other and spun, halting the rest of traffic around them. Cars are backed up for as long as I can see in both directions, but no drivers. They either ran, or seeing all the dried blood around and inside the vehicles, I’d say they were slaughtered before they could even unbuckle.

It was a massacre.

The thought of thousands—possibly hundreds of thousands—of people dying in minutes is nauseating. Thank God I was upstairs when all this shit happened. I couldn’t imagine being down on ground level when Satan’s spawn first appeared.

This is bad enough.

My skin breaks out in a sweat, even in the cold air. Sweating isn’t anything new to me, but doing it without exerting myself is a new one. Normally, I’m running for my life when my armpits start to drip.

Or leaping from seventh floor fire escapes.

That was easily the stupidest thing I’ve ever done—and that’s saying a lot. I’m not going to recall the other dumb things I’ve done in the past. So instead, I move forward, awkwardly placing my left fist against the crunched front end of another taxi, leaping it with a quick hop.

Easily clearing the first half of the cab’s hood, I slide across the second half of it like a cheesy TV show cop. I quickly spy my landing and groan. It’s a slick of gelatinous, viscous fluid. What can only be a mixture of blood and bile, meets my booted feet, and I slip. As I sort of catch myself, my elbow banging off the car’s fender. The jolt sends a pulsating bitch of a stinger up into my fingertips. Naturally, the nerve impulses in my fingers react, flexing inward towards my palm… Pulling the trigger to my gun.

“Shit.”

I quickly stand, shaking the tingling in my elbow away. I cringe as I hear the gun’s report echoing off the buildings around me. So far, my luck has been pretty decent today. I survived a fall from seventy feet and then didn’t get eaten by a group of monsters while hiding in a giant garbage can. Before that I found some extra ammo, another gun, a knife, and a Taser. I also got my share of alcohol which I’m still feeling—barely—but it’s still there a little. It’s not enough to screw with my head, but once it wears off I’m going to hurt like a bitch.

So why can’t I have one more quick kiss from Lady Luck?

The snarling behind me violently brings me back down to earth.

“Ugh,” I say, turning. “Double shit.”

The large mass of Goblins is back and before the Siren shows up, I bolt in my original direction, using the cars as blockades. I need to lose the bastards before I find cover. I evaded the last couple of groups because they were smaller, and because of good fortune. It’s plain to see that this isn’t going to be one of those times.

So instead of relying on another fluke, I’ll run. Then maybe I’ll fight if I’m forced to. I glance over my shoulder as I round a pick-up truck and see the Siren emerge.

Nope—never mind. No fighting.

Just a lot more running.

15

Did I mention that I really hate to run? No? Well, I do… With a passion. It’s actually my least favorite thing to do. But now, I guess dying would go to the top of that list. Running is just the result of that fear.

I make it another fifty feet before the first Goblin is on me, but thankfully, I’m not afraid to use my Glock this time.
What the hell… The cat’s already out of the bag.
It leaps atop another ruined cab and pauses just long enough for me to put two bullets in its chest. Then as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone, out of sight. I’m turning and running again before I hear its lifeless body hit the asphalt.

I slide between two more wrecked cars, just barely slipping through the extended side mirrors. I bang my already hurting shoulder against one of them, and dive forward just I feel the air behind my head whoosh by. I can only guess what it could have been. I glance back, confirming my suspicions. Another Goblin just tried to scalp me.

Slowed by the tight squeeze, and not making it through as fast, it stops abruptly, knocking into the same side-mirrors I hit. I fully wheel around and put a well-placed round in its skull—point blank. The back of its head explodes all over the next Goblin, coming right up behind it. I take that one out too in the confusion.

Making my way past another line of cars, I weave in and out of them, doing my best to keep each of the vehicles inbetween me and the horde growing behind me. My additional gunshots have no doubt brought more out of the woodwork, joining in on the hunt.

I don’t have enough bullets for this crap.

“I…gotta’ get…off…this street.”

Huffing heavy breath after heavy breath, I turn right at the next corner, taking this chase north. I might be able to lose the majority of them if I weave through the streets and alleys. Then, once out of sight I’ll move into one of the buildings and lay low for a while.

But not yet. This mad dash is only just beginning.

The sentiment is signified by the feral scream that can only belong to a Siren. It shakes my bones and tingles my bladder, but I don’t dare turn. I need to pour on the speed and open up the distance between us first.

Luckily, for me the Unseen aren’t as quick in the open. From what I’ve seen, they’re better as a mob, overwhelming their prey with sheer numbers. I can outrun them as long as the Siren doesn’t decide to get involved, or unless I get cut off and boxed in. She can catch me with little effort as athletically built as the Sirens are.

Damn shoulder,
I think, rolling it a little. A new stinging sensation joins in, but I feel what I was looking for. The bandage and stitches still feel secure.
Thank God.
They may be seeping a little, but everything feels intact for the most part.

Another shrill cry stumbles me a little.

Ugh
, I think and chance a glance as I come up to the next street. As I turn left I take a peek behind me, seeing what I feared. It’s a Siren, and she steps out from the corner like a general leading a troop of soldiers. Confidence radiates from her evil form.

It’s the same one from outside Harvey’s too. What’s left of a skirt and the long dangling necklace are a dead giveaway.

She takes her first step in my direction as I disappear around the corner. I’m back on 66th and mercifully it’s less congested than 65th was by a mile. Sustaining a steady pace shouldn’t be a problem now.

I’m only a dozen or so steps into the next leg of my escape when the Siren’s ear-piercing call sounds from behind.

No way.

I look back and see her round the corner at a full sprint, her soiled and ripped skirt, snapping tight around her thighs as she continues forward. Her momentum carries her too far around the sharp turn, but unfortunately for me it doesn’t slow her down a bit. She just leaps onto the wall of the nearest building, takes three steps, and pushes off. It’s all one motion and perfectly executed. Any other human would’ve stumbled or slammed into the brick facing of the apartment complex, but not the Siren. She just runs sideways on the brick wall for a split-second.

Damn you Spiderwoman!

Knowing that I can’t outrun her, I skid to a stop and pivot. I aim down the sights of my gun and pull the trigger twice. The twin projectiles hit home, finding the flesh of her muscular shoulder. She stumbles a little, and I’m about to unload the rest of my clip into her if I have too.

I compress the trigger, but release it as she slips and goes down, slamming face first into an overturned hotdog cart. The impact of the bullets must have just been enough to throw off her balance at that speed.

Breathing heavy, I turn and run once more. I depress the release button to my gun’s clip and check my ammo situation.

Damn. Only six more in this one.

A chorus of growls snap me out of my two-second long respite as I load the nearly spent clip back into my Glock. Twenty
ish
Goblins come around the corner tripping each other up as they continue their pursuit of me. Once again they show their less nimble side as half of them go down under the feet of the other half, slipping on the cold icy, blood-covered ground.

I turn to flee and do something I haven’t done in a while. I smile. I see something that might just save my life leaning upright, chained to a street sign. Unfortunately, I can feel my legs tightening up from having to stand still. The cold is quickly attacking my legs and a pulled muscle or cramp could end me.

What a way to die.
Death by ‘Charlie horse’ isn’t something I want on my tombstone.

Taking off at a near sprint, I slide to a halt next to my saving grace. It’s a bicycle and both its tires are in perfect working order. It’s exactly what I’ve been looking for. It’s the first I’ve come across and it couldn’t have come at a better time. If I’d have known what I’d be facing before I left my place, I would have looked for one as soon as I stepped onto the sidewalk.

I put a bullet though the cheap chain and jump on, taking off as fast as my jellified legs can pedal. Allowing myself another smile, I relax a bit, quickly outpacing the creatures. After losing them around another pileup, I turn south back towards 65th, distancing myself even further. I slow for a second and breathe, wide-eyed at the near fatal encounter I just escaped. Luck seems to be in my favor today.

For now,
I think, not giving myself a chance to completely let my guard down.

I smoothly steer past wreck after wreck, weary of the possibility of another Goblin jumping out and startling me like it did behind the library. I really don’t want to draw any
more
attention to myself. This is bad enough—the worst situation so far for sure.

And boy I’ve had a lot of them in what…less than two days?

Gotta’ be a record or something for near death experiences in less than forty-eight hours.

I continue traveling south and I’m about to pop back out onto 65th. Knowing what I just survived, I slow, but don’t get off the bike. I roll forward far enough to see around the corner and look east, back towards Harvey’s. My stomach sinks as I see dozens of Unseen. They range from Siren to Goblin, all in different sizes and conditions. Some are in perfect working order and some are limping heavy. Some even have pieces or limbs missing. It’s a congress of death on a scale that isn’t measurable.

The only good news is that most are facing away from me, and let’s be real for a moment, it’s not like they can see me. I inch out and roll forward slowly, doing my best to crouch low on the mountain bike’s high seat. Halfway across the intersection I get what I was hoping to avoid. A Goblin shambles out from behind a car, its leg broken, making it lag behind the rest. The only reason it’s here is because of dumb luck.

Luck.
Ugh. Damn you.

I pedal by as fast as I can and swing the pry bar across the thing’s head, connecting with a solid blow. The steel teeth embed into its skull and I lose my grip on the improvised weapon. It clangs to the ground, reverberating against the hard icy ground. I cringe at the echo, but also at the combined grunt the Goblin let out just before I connected. Knowing the way these things can hear, I’m pretty sure I’m screwed.

I slide to a stop in the middle of the intersection, seeing another group of Goblins coming my way, no doubt coming to investigate the noise. Reacting on instinct, I abandon the idea of using the north/south running roads and turn west, continuing my flight down 65th. It’s the most direct route to my goal. I’m not exactly sure what I’m going to do next though. Getting there has always been
Number One
on my to-do list. I’ll revamp it once I get there.

If I get there.