Decay (Book 2): Humanity (21 page)

Michael fought through the crowds inside the mill. Despite being inside, many people continued to push and shove, desperately trying to move further in. The large mill provided plenty of room, but most of the people couldn’t see. Their eyes burned, along with any exposed skin. He wasn’t sure how he managed to miss the toxic mist, but he was glad he did. Now Michael tried to help those that couldn’t see by guiding them up the stairs and around the antique mill equipment.

The screams inside the mill where deafening, and Michael felt awful that so many of the people he knew where in so much pain. He continued to help people find their way out of the main room when a new round of screams broke out. This set off panic like he hadn’t seen since the days of the first attacks.

Quickly, he searched for the source of the panic and noticed that Gene-O was also trying to keep everyone calm. Both Michael and Gene-O saw what was happening at the same time. A woman that had been lying on the floor had turned after being trampled to death by the terrified mob. Now she was chewing through the calf of an older man. The group tried to disperse, but he had a tight grip on the man in front of him, who in his own frightened state held tight to the woman next to him, hoping to be pulled free of the old man.

This quickly formed a chain of people who all were hoping that someone in front of them would be able to pull them free of the person behind them. Everyone was held in place. Fights broke out. Blood spattered to the wooden floor as fists collided with faces, breaking cartilage and fracturing skulls. Children who had clung to the adults for protection were now being kicked to the ground and stepped on.

Soon, another fiend arose from the back of the chaos, a young boy who had been crushed between the adults trying to squeeze in. He leapt for the neck of a woman in front of him, biting deep into the soft flesh. Blood sprayed over the little boy’s face and dripped out of his ragged hair. Long strips of her skin clung to his face.

This second fiend caused yet another wave of panic, one Michael new he couldn’t contain. He fought his way toward the steps that led down into the basement. There was a door to the outside there, and he would take his chances out in the open. He reached the doorway, but before he could begin his descent he was shoved from behind. His arms flailed as he tried to grab anything to slow his fall.

He hit the concrete floor head first. His vision blurred and the pain caused his body to bend in ways he wouldn’t have thought possible. There was nothing he could do but lay there and listen to the screams from upstairs. The screams were muffled, and a persistent thumping drilled into his ears.

“I gotcha,” a voice said from what seemed like miles away.

Michael couldn’t respond, but he felt someone grab him under his armpits and lift him to his feet. The smell of cigarette smoke and blood filled his nostrils. The blood he knew was his. The smoke must have been Gene-O.

The light outside was bright, and the bitter chill of the Midwest winter snapped at Michael’s skin. He tried to focus, but his head was still disoriented from the fall. After fighting off motion sickness, he thought it best to close his eyes and keep them closed.

“You’re not dying on me, are you?”

Michael’s head had cleared just enough to really hear the voice of the man carrying him, and he knew that it was in fact Gene-O.

“I’m not a doctor, but I think you need to stay awake,” Gene-O said.

Michael had heard that before, as well, so he opened his eyes just enough to peek out. The ground below him wobbled and tilted, and there was no holding back the flood of vomit.

Gene-O held the teen steady as the stream poured to the frozen ground. Steam rose from the puddle. “That’s a lot of puke,” he said, wondering how much more could possibly come out. “We can’t stick around much longer, bud. You’re gonna have to puke and walk.”

“Michael!” Jonathan shouted as he ran toward his twin brother. “What happened?” he asked without taking his eyes off Michael.

“He was knocked down the stairs. He’ll be alright, he’s a tough young man,” Gene-O stated while continuing to move forward with Michael. “All hell’s breaking loose in there,” he said as he pointed to the mill.

“What happened?” asked Jonathan.

“I’m not sure exactly. Whatever that spray was that came from that crop duster caused one hell of a panic. Unfortunately, as people scrambled to get inside, some people were killed. They turned pretty damn quick and started right in on the attack.” Gene-O explained as he continued to move toward Mad Man’s semi.

Rod came over to help his brother with Michael. He lifted the young man up and fireman’s carried him over his shoulders. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“Get him to the semi,” Gene-O replied.

Rod gave an understanding nod and jogged carefully ahead of them.

“I have to go back for Guillermo,” Jonathan said. “Are you going to be at the semi?”

“Yeah I’m going to head back and see if I can help anyone else. I’ll meet you in a few minutes.”

Jonathan and Gene-O ran their separate ways. Jonathan made his way down the path toward the bridge. He cut off toward the creek and ran to the tree where he left Guillermo. As he reached the tree his heart sank. Blood and chunks of flesh were all that remained.

His eyes darted around trying to find a blood trail or any other signs to follow. After frantically searching for a full minute, he found blood several yards away. It was thick and coagulated, so he felt certain it wasn’t Guillermo’s, which meant his friend had to be on the move. The blood went off further down the creek, so Jonathan followed it slowly.

No fiend body meant the fiend was also on the move, so Jonathan moved as silently as he could atop the dry, cracking leaves and sticks. Half the fiends in the woods could probably hear him.

The trail led up away from the creek, and Jonathan had to duck under a branch to continue to follow it. Clinging from the branch was a long strand of rotting flesh. The fiend was following Guillermo. Jonathan’s only goal was to make it to his friend before the rotting corpse could.

Chapter 26

Rod hoisted Michael into the passenger’s side of Mad Man Rob’s semi, climbed in with him, and helped the teen climb into the back where the small bed that Jonathan recently laid in was. Dog had climbed in behind them and started licking the vomit from Michael’s chin. The tall man climbed back up front and stood out the door, scanning the area for his brother. Most of the chaos had settled down, and only the occasional scream broke out, but the number of dead bodies was astounding.

Up until now, Rod wasn’t even sure that there were this many people here. Now it seemed an almost everlasting flood of bodies poured from the mill. Most of them were completely drenched in blood.

Rod’s heart began to race as he couldn’t see any signs of his brother anywhere. He wanted to yell out to him, but the fiends hadn’t noticed him yet. Slowly, he climbed back into the cab and closed the door. Continuing to scan through the windows, Rod began to lose hope that his brother was lost in the sea of death and decay.

“What’s the situation?” Michael asked from the back.

Rod, who had been lost in thought, jumped when Michael spoke. “Not good,” he answered. “How are you feeling?” He turned around and watched as Michael shuffled up to the driver’s seat and sat down.

“My head hurts, but I can see just fine,” Michael said. He looked out the window at the deadies that seemed to wander aimlessly about.

“I guess we wait until they clear out a little and check for survivors. Then we’ll take what we can and get the hell out of here,” Rod stated.

“What about Jonathan? Gene-O? Have you seen them?”

“Gene-O saved you before running off to help the others. Jonathan ran off to find someone. Neither of them has made it back yet, and with as thick as it’s getting out there . . . “ Rod ended his sentence there not wanting to think about what may have happened to his brother.

Michael went completely quiet, not realizing he was holding his breath until his chest began to ache. “You can drive this, right?” he finally asked.

“Of course I can,” Rod responded without halting his scan of their surroundings. “But I’ve already searched for the keys. I assume Rob has them.”

“Why would he even take them out of the truck?” Michael said with harsh anger in his raised voice.

A knock on the driver’s side door caused Michael to jump out of the seat and land hard on his ass. His right elbow drove down into the shift knob, causing a pain that challenged that in his head. Massaging his elbow, there was nothing more that he could do but laugh the way people do when their elbows take a good whack.

Rod climbed over him and glanced out the window. Michael couldn’t see it from his spot on the floor between the two bucket seats, but a big smile crossed Rod’s face and he unlocked the door before pushing it open and reaching a hand down to help Gene-O climb in.

“I couldn’t save anyone,” Gene-O said a little out of breath.

“Everyone is gone? Surely a few people had to make it to safety,” Rod said.

“Did you see Jonathan out there anywhere?” Michael asked. He tried to push Dog off of him, as the heavy dog mistook his predicament for play.

“He went after his friend. I haven’t seen him since, but it’s only been ten minutes or so. I’m pretty sure he’ll be here soon,” Gene-O said sensing the young man’s tension.

The older man reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He tapped one of the sticks out and placed the filtered end between his lips. He offered a smoke to Rod and Michael, both declined, and he stuffed the pack back in his pocket and withdrew a blue lighter, flicked the flame to life, and lit the cigarette. The tip glowed bright red as he took a drag.

“Roll your damn window down.” Rod said, shaking his head.

Gene-O grabbed ahold of the window crank and cracked the window a couple inches.

“Aren’t you afraid the deadies will smell the smoke?” Michael asked. He had spent plenty of time with the Mad Man, so the smoke didn’t really bother him.

“For some reason they avoid the smoke. Something Rob pointed out,” Gene-O answered as he exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. “It’s like the smell messes with them. They are drawn to fire, however. I thought you ran around with Rob quite a bit?”

“I guess I never put it together.” Michael shrugged and sat back on the bed with his back against some pillows. He wondered if that is something Jonathan knows. He hoped Jonathan would make his way back soon. He hoped Jonathan would just make his way back alive.

The trees were bare, and the low hanging branches resembled long, boney fingers. Jonathan continued on, struggling to follow the vanishing blood trail. The ski mask hugged his face tightly, yet it wasn’t enough to stop the freezing cold breeze from working its way through. He went several yards with no signs of whether or not he was even going in the right direction before spotting a clot of blood in a patch of snow. Still feeling certain that it wasn’t Guillermo’s he pushed on.

There was very little sound coming from his surroundings. The rustle of a few loose leaves scraping across the ground as the breeze blew them to their next destination was all he heard aside from the sounds from the mill. He tried to stay within earshot of it, but as the terror died down so did the commotion. He didn’t like to think of how many of those people had to die for the place to grow so quiet once again.

In a brief moment of dead silence, a loud crack emanated from behind Jonathan. He turned just in time to see the attacking fiend before she could grab him. The dead woman was large, weighing well over three-hundred pounds as she stood dead before him. Her filthy sundress had a busted strap that exposed most of her right breast. Dried veins and tendons hung from the large gash in her throat. Her movement was slowed by the frigid cold, but she somehow managed to sneak right up behind him.

Jonathan ducked away from her hands but was caught by her thick arm. He was knocked to the ground and managed to roll aside as the woman dropped down on top of where he had landed seconds before.

Standing up, Jonathan watched, feeling cocky as the heavy fiend had trouble picking herself up off the ground. He reached into his coat for the Glock he grabbed from small armory in the mill, but thought best to keep it quiet, so he turned to his left, hoping to find a stick or rock he could use to bust her skull open. As he searched, he heard the leaves rustle followed by a dull padding sound. The sound was rapid and growing louder each second. Ignoring the sound, he attempted to free a large rock that was frozen in the dirt. By the time he realized that the dull thud was the awkward footsteps of a dead man running straight toward him it was too late to react.

He turned his head just as the fiend charged into him. The pair flew several feet, landing on the dead woman and forcing her back onto her stomach. Now Jonathan was trapped, however, and he couldn’t see any way out of it. The dead man was on top of him, attempting to tear through the thick layer of protection that the heavy coat provided, while the woman struggled to turn her body and wrap her corpulent arms around him.

The thought of just giving up crossed him mind, as he saw no way to beat both of the fiends. He gave one last kick of his legs, hoping to wriggle free of this bed of rotting flesh, but it was no use. He couldn’t move his arms far enough to reach the handgun. His body went limp as he decided not to fight his inevitable fate. Jonathan Sawyer looked up at the sky through the naked trees and told himself it was alright. He had done everything he could.

A loud thud snapped the teen out of his thoughts. The fiend on top of him went limp and was soon pulled away.

“I got you, my friend,” Guillermo said.

There was the sickening sound of a watermelon being busted open, and the heavy woman’s arms released Jonathan.

He stood up with the help of Guillermo and looked down at the two fiends. Both of their heads had been busted open. The large rock lay on the ground next to the woman. Chunks of flesh and hair clung to its rough surface.

“Hey,” Jonathan said with a nod.

“Hey,” Guillermo responded.

“I came looking for you. You were not by the tree where I left you,” Jonathan said lazily.

“Yeah I had to take care of some things.” Guillermo smiled at his friend, and then started to laugh. “Let’s go home, Jonathan, to California.”

“Yeah.”

The gray-white smoke rolled out of the cracked window in soft wisps as Gene-O lit his second cigarette with the red-hot end of the first. The trio had been sitting perfectly still for several minutes, watching as the parade of dead bodies shuffled by, unaware that living flesh was so close.

Light snowflakes gently fell, blowing about in the breeze like carefree children playing in the schoolyard. The world was quiet with the exception of the dry grunts escaping the throats of the dead.

A sharp beam of light ricocheted around the cab of the semi, catching the attention of Michael, Gene-O, and Rodney at the same time.

“What the hell is that?” Rodney asked, peering through the window.

“Up there,” Michael pointed toward the schoolhouse. “I think that’s the Mad Man.” A hearty laugh erupted from the teen and he clapped his hands together loudly.

Mad Man Rob crouched down on the roof of the schoolhouse where the mirror was mounted for sending signals during the day. The cloud cover had broken just enough for him to catch a ray of sunlight and send his distress signal.

“How can we get to him?” Gene-O asked. “You said he must have the keys, right?”

“Yeah. I guess we’ll have to wait until the place clears out a bit,” Rodney responded sounding somewhat annoyed.

A sudden rocking movement of the semi was followed by banging on the exterior. Gene-O looked down through the window to see that the deadies had begun grouping up outside. Their dead hands beating on the doors sounded like a group of drunks drumming along to their favorite song on the top of the bar. Only they were all listening to something different.

“They can’t get in here,” Michael said. “I helped design this beast,” he added with a tone that sounded cockier than he meant it to.

“Yeah but if they can tell we are here they’ll never leave.” Gene-O knew the semi would drive right over the dead people in front of it, but he felt it was just their luck that the Mad Man would have the keys.

Before an answer could be given, a monstrous roar came from the right. Michael scurried across the bed and pressed his face against the tinted cabin window. Gene-O was just about in Rodney’s lap as the two brothers watched curiously through the passenger’s side window.

The yellow Yenko Camaro came to life like a flame igniting from a match. The tires spun on the frozen ground as the back end pulled to the left. Aaron took his foot off of the gas pedal and the noise quieted to a rumble. The car began to move forward through the swarm of deadies that had gathered around it, drawing away some of those around the semi as well.

“They must have been hiding in the car!” Michael laughed joyously at the thought of others surviving.

Aaron drove the car about thirty yards away before sliding it around to face the semi. He drove forward, plowing through bodies before coming to a stop with the passenger’s side doors of the Camaro and Semi lining up.

Rodney threw the door open as May climbed out of the car. When he noticed it was her he hopped down to the ground and lifted her up into the cab. He turned to Aaron and said, “Come on!”

“I’ll be right back!” Aaron responded. “I’m going for Mad Man.”

Rodney nodded and jumped into the car.

“I haven’t been in a Camaro since the seventies!” he exclaimed excitedly.

Aaron laughed. “Then let’s have some fun.”

They pulled away from the semi before Aaron pressed the accelerator to the floor. The engine roared its mighty battle cry once more as the car spun in a tight circle counter-clock ways, swatting away deadies as if they were ragdolls to a child throwing a temper tantrum.

“I feel like the Duke boys!” Rodney laughed as he attempted to hold himself off of the door.

When the car stopped spinning, Aaron drove toward the schoolhouse. As they approached it they could see that Mad Man Rob was not alone. He had a man and a child with him.

The man had on a black coat with a stocking cap covering his head. His face was red from the cold and his silver, wire-framed glasses fogged up with each breath he exhaled. His son was four or five years old and was wearing a yellow coat with brown mittens, the kind with the string that ran up through the coat sleeves and connected the pair. A blue ski mask covered his face.

The car stopped just below them, and Rodney climbed out. He reached up and caught the small boy as the man dropped him down. The man jumped down next as Rodney helped the boy into the backseat. Deadies closed in, some moving at a dead sprint.

“Hurry your ass up!” Rodney yelled up the Mad Man.

“I’m coming!” Mad Man Rob shouted. He turned around to face the roof and lost his grip. He landed with a thud on the roof of the Camaro and bounced to the ground. “Why aren’t you in yet?” he asked Rodney as he stood up, holding his back.

“I’m not sitting in back,” Rodney stated firmly. “Unlike you . . . I didn’t stop growing in seventh grade.”