Empty Bodies (Book 5): Damnation (13 page)

The Empty leading the way came within a few yards of Will. He almost slipped again, but managed to rear back and swing the machete. He connected with the thing’s neck before it could bring its arms up to block the blow. It fell forward, and when Will tried to move back, he found that his feet had stuck into the mud. The body slammed into him with enough force to knock him back. Will fell down, the back of his head slamming into the muddy soil.

Above him, the other standing creature snarled, and aimed for Will’s exposed stomach. Will pointed the machete blade straight up, and the Empty fell on it like a stake. The blade entered under the thing’s chin and came out through the top of its skull. Will lost his grip of the machete handle, and the butt-end of it landed next to him. The Empty’s entire weight fell down onto the blade. It made a sick slurping sound as its head slid all the way down to the handle. The rest of the creature’s body fell on Will, pinning him down.

“Shit,” Will said, looking up.

The other creatures had made it to their feet, and were creeping toward Will. They seemed to have no trouble with the sopping ground beneath them.

Will yelled, “Help!” He tried to look over toward Charlie, but he couldn’t see over the top of the ditch.

The two beasts, both having been stout males in their living days, were now only a few yards away from Will. He tried to push the weight of the Empty off of him, but it proved impossible. The creature was too heavy, and the butt-end of the machete had sunk into the mud, holding the beast in place. He’d made some progress in pushing the creature off of him when one of the other Empties piled on. Now he had the weight of two creatures on him.

With the slain Empty as the only barrier between them, the live creature chomped its jaws, trying to find any piece of Will’s flesh that it could. Will squirmed, trying to keep clear of the Empty’s decrepit teeth. Its saliva dripped down onto Will’s arm, and Will continued to call out for help. 

A loud bang sounded through the air, followed by another. After the second, the standing Empty fell backward, blood shooting out of the side of its skull. The Empty in his face screamed, and then another shot went off, this bullet sinking into the side of its head. Blood splashed down onto Will’s face, and he turned his head, closing his eyes. When he looked up again, he saw Spencer standing over him, a gun in his hand. A thin cloud of smoke floated from the barrel.

Charlie appeared at the edge of the road and dropped the ax.

“Shit,” Charlie said. He shuffled down into the ditch and pushed the top Empty off of Will, then helped Will move the other. He extended his hand to his friend, who accepted it. “You all right, man?”

Will pulled away from Charlie and hurried out of the ditch, coming face to face with Spencer.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“Get the hell out of my face,” Spencer said. “You said not to use the gun unless I had to. By the looks of you down there, I think I needed to use it. You should be thanking me.”

“Yes,” Will said. “Thank you. Thanks a lot for taking your sweet ass time in getting out of the van.”

“Fuck you.”

Will swiped the gun out of his hand and aimed it at his forehead. Spencer raised his arms.

“Whoa, what the fuck, dude?”

Karl raised his own weapon, aiming it at Will.

“Whoa, whoa, hold on,” Charlie said, raising his hands up toward Karl.

“He needs to put his gun down,” Karl said, speaking to Charlie of Will.

“No,” Will said. “You need to listen to me, and listen good. Timothy asked me to come here with you all. He did that for a reason. Because I have the most experience out of any of us out here in the world since all this shit started happening. Now, if you’re not going to do what I say, we’re going to have a problem.”

“You’re not in charge,” Spencer said.

“You’re wrong,” Will said. “When it comes to how we handle these monsters, I
am
in charge.”

“Let’s all just cool it,” Charlie said. “Will, come on.”

“Karl, if you aren’t going to side with me on this, then you may as well just drive us right back to that house and let us be on our merry-fucking-way.”

Karl bit his lip. He kept his gun fixed on Will for another moment before finally dropping his arm.

“Good,” Will said. He refocused his attention on Spencer. “Now, don’t pull that shit again. Got it?”

Shaking, Spencer nodded.

“All right.” Will lowered the gun. He clicked the safety on, then took the gun by the barrel and handed it back over to Spencer.

Spencer looked surprised that Will would hand him the gun back, but Will did so anyway as a sign of trust and as a way of saying it was time to move on. Spencer accepted the gun, and slipped it back into its holster on his waist.

“Now, let’s get the hell out of here.” Will moved past Spencer and loaded back into the passenger seat of the van.

In two minutes, they were back on their way.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The blood stains spread across the football field were most apparent where the fading chalk lines remained. The field was empty now, but it looked like a battle of nations had taken place there.

A chain link fence standing about eight feet tall lined the perimeter of the field. Part of it looked like it had been there when the football field had been used as a sporting arena. The rest of it looked like it had been built more recently.

After zoning out for a period of time, a punch to the spine alerted Gabriel. He clutched his back.

“Move,” Lance commanded.

Derek walked down the aluminum stairs and stopped at a row of seats six rows away from where other people were sitting. He moved to a seat in the center of the empty row and Gabriel followed.

After Derek took a seat, he said, “Leave an empty between us. I don’t need you all up on me while we sit here.”

Gabriel did as he was asked, leaving a vacant seat between himself and Derek. Fortunately, Lance had the same idea, and left an empty seat to Gabriel’s opposite side.

“I don’t need your queer ass all on top of my shit, either,” Lance said, adjusting his hat on his head.

Likewise,
Gabriel thought.

Only about a hundred people were in the crowd. Half of them sat on the side of the stadium Gabriel was on while the other half sat on the opposite side of the field. Guards had been stationed around the outside of the fence. About every twenty-five feet or so, a person stood with a rifle in their hands. Most of the guards were men, but some were women, each facing the field and not the crowd.

Everyone in the stands stood as they erupted into applause. Gabriel looked around, confused as to what they were yelling for.

“Stand, you piece of shit,” Lance said, grabbing onto Gabriel.

With Lance pulling him to his feet, Gabriel stood. He looked down to the field, trying to figure out what everyone was clapping and cheering about. He saw nothing of interest, and was further confused. When he looked over to Derek to follow his gaze, he finally realized what all the commotion was about.

At the far end of the field, a smaller set of bleachers sat under the scoreboard. Gabriel assumed this was where the band would have played during the football games. Today, there was no band. Instead, a muscular, gray haired man waved to the crowd as he made his way to his seat.

Nathan Ambrose.

Surrounded by a small entourage, he stood in front of his seat, continuing to wave as the people on either side of him clapped. What the hell was so special about this guy? Gabriel wasn’t sure, but found himself suddenly more intrigued with finding out.

Ambrose put out his arms, signaling everyone to sit down. As everyone abided, Gabriel nestled back into his own seat and worked to get comfortable. For the first time since Gabriel had emerged from the inside of the school, everyone in the crowd had gone silent. They all turned to look toward a building on the opposite end of the stadium from where Ambrose sat.

A man emerged from the building.

He was young, maybe in his early 30s. Many in the crowd stood up and cheered as he walked toward the field. Instead of reacting to the cheers with excitement, the guy looked scared. Confused. Hand-drawn across the front of his white t-shirt was the number 12. Gabriel found himself in his own state of confusion. What was he about to see?

The crowd calmed down for just a moment as Number 12 came to a stop at the five yard line. Then they began shouting again as another man walked out from the field-house. While this guy also looked scared, he walked onto the field with more confidence than the other man had. He stood slightly taller than his counterpart, with the number 32 drawn in permanent marker across the front of his own white t-shirt. Number 32 walked out onto the field and stopped next to Number 12. The two men looked at each other for just a moment, then focused to the bandstands where Ambrose had stood up again.

Everyone fell silent. They focused their attention on Ambrose, who held a revolver in his hand.

One of the armed guards walked away from the goal post which stood in the end zone near Ambrose. An ax hung from the uprights. Gabriel hadn’t noticed it before. Gabriel’s mind started to spin as he put together the pieces of what was about to happen. He glanced down to the two men on the field, who were both now positioned in a sprinter’s lunge. Gabriel looked back up to Ambrose, who pointed the revolver to the sky.

He fired.

The crowed erupted.

Both of the men on the field took off in a full-on sprint. Number 12 ran out to an early lead, but only by about a half-a-car length. By the time they reached the fifty, the two men were in a dead heat.

When they reached the other thirty-yard line, Number 32 body checked the smaller man. Number 12 lost his footing, flying horizontally into the air before slamming down onto the ground. He fell on his side and his head bounced off of the turf. Part of the crowd roared in excitement while the rest filled with a collective sigh. Gabriel thought the blow to the head may have knocked Number 12 out cold, but the competitor grabbed at his side.

Number 32 laughed as he looked behind him and saw Number 12 writhing in pain near the thirty-yard line. With the competition over, Number 32 slowed his sprint to a light jog. He reached the goal post at the back of the end zone and grabbed the ax with ease.

At this point, Gabriel expected Number 32 to run thirty yards back and bury the ax into his counterpart.

But it didn’t happen.

Instead, the crowd went silent, and only the roar of an engine could be heard.

Everyone in the bleachers leaned down and looked toward the noise. Number 32 glanced that way, too, and then started to jog back toward the fifty yard line. He passed by Number 12 without paying him any mind.

At the corner of the field, in the direction everyone stared, a group of guards swung open the chain link fence.

An 15-foot box truck drove through the opening, and the crowd erupted again. The doors and side windows of the truck were covered with metal panels. A similar sheet of metal had been placed over the windshield. Only, this one had a small window cut out of it, allowing the driver to look out.

The truck moved to the middle of the end zone, and then the driver cut the wheel. He parked the truck at around the eight yard line, its rear bumper facing the center of the field.

Four men dressed in full, restrictive body armor made of steel wobbled out onto the field. They moved toward the truck. The suits they wore reminded Gabriel of homemade costumes from a renaissance fair. Three of the men were armed while one was not.

The four guards arrived at the back of the truck, and the unarmed guard put his hand on the handle of the sliding back door. The armed men each aimed their weapons toward the back of the truck as he unlatched the door and pushed it up. As soon as he pushed, he pulled the truck’s loading ramp out and then darted away from the vehicle.

Gabriel watched what came out of the truck, and he understood the game now.

One after another, Empties spilled out of the back of the truck. The four guards moved in a semi-circle, distancing themselves from the creatures while keeping their weapons aimed at them.

When all the Empties had vacated the box truck, one of the guards fired a single shot into the air. The brake lights faded as the truck raced off the field. Gabriel counted at least fifteen Empties. The four guards moved as fast as they could in the armor, running around the back of the horde. Each of the humans made it out of the arena unscathed, and another guard shut and locked the gate.