Evil Harvest (40 page)
Authors: Anthony Izzo
He was in a room three feet across with block walls. Three concrete steps led to another door directly in front of him.
Matt opened the door in front of him and stepped into haze, his eyes watering. He squinted and made out a green curtain ahead of him; he was behind the stage’s rear curtain.
Rafferty’s voice was audible from in front of the curtain and it sounded like he said, “Bring him here.”
Did they have Harry or were they dragging some other poor soul up onto the stage for a sacrifice?
Feeling his way along the curtain, he found the seam in the middle and parted it slightly. Rafferty stood with his revolver pointed at someone strapped to an X-shaped cross and Matt realized it was Liza. There were two more of the crosses on the other side of Rafferty, meant for him and the others.
A crowd of creatures gathered at the far wall and moved backward in a rough semicircle, surrounding someone, herding them to the stage.
Through a gap in between two of them, Matt made out the squat frame of Harry.
The crowd on the gym floor began to squeal again, beating at one another, climbing over each other to avoid flames.
If Harry was down on the floor, then where was Jill? In better shape than Harry or Liza, he hoped.
Fire flashed in the center of the gym as one of them fell onto the flames, and the air began to smell like burning flesh. It was an alien smell, like hot metal and cooked meat mixed together.
If Matt was lucky, Rafferty was thinking that he was farther away, maybe trying to break into the school rather than lurking twenty feet from the police chief.
They had Harry almost to the stage steps when Matt decided to make a move and bust up Rafferty’s party. He slid through the seam in the curtain with the pistol’s barrel aimed squarely between Ed Rafferty’s shoulder blades.
He fired three times, hitting Rafferty in the upper back, twirling him around, Rafferty clutching his chest and spinning off the edge of the stage. He looked like a bad actor hamming up a death scene.
In a perfect world the bullets would have killed Rafferty stone dead, but things were far from perfect. Hell, they weren’t even normal, with abominations from God knew where congregating in an elementary school gym and preparing for a ritual slaughter.
The gunshots got the attention of the monstrosities surrounding Harry, and they looked at Matt, snarling deep in their throats.
Harry sensed opportunity and he lowered his shoulder and plowed ahead like a two-hundred-sixty-pound cannonball, knocking one of them off balance and breaking out of the circle.
Harry moved with surprising speed, taking the steps in one bound. It was amazing what a little fear and adrenaline pumped in your veins could do for your time in the ten-yard dash.
When he reached the top of the steps, one of them darted from the crowd and grabbed his pant leg, hooking its claws into the fabric. Harry jerked his leg and the jeans gave way. Harry shot forward, half of his pant leg gone, exposing a leg covered with thick gray hair.
The one that ripped his pants got up and Matt pumped two shots into its face and it rolled off the stage.
Harry ran to Liza and began to untie her bonds.
When she was untied, she fell into his arms and he joined Matt near the back of the stage.
“You saved my ass,” Harry said.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
Ed Rafferty, now transformed, climbed onto the stage, seven feet of muscle and fangs. Three others joined him.
“You got her?” Matt said.
“Yeah. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“We’re not leaving without Jill.”
“First we get out of the gym,” Harry said.
Rafferty and the others started forward.
While Matt and Harry were busy in the gym, Jill was dealing with problems of her own.
She had started back up the stairs when she heard heavy footsteps on the upper level, then caught a whiff of something sour. She knew one of them was on its way down the stairs. Which was worse, the flames or the beast?
She thought about making a run for the lobby doors, but that was nixed as the creature stuck its head over the railing, grinning and drooling. When she looked into its eyes, Jill thought she might die then and there. For the first time death seemed real, for even at the cabin she had known they would live to fight another day.
This was different. She was face-to-face with one of them, and the menace was all the more real being this close.
It moved rabbit quick, blocking the doors to the lobby. She backed downstairs, getting as close to the fire as she dared without setting herself ablaze. The smoke raked her lungs and she coughed.
It crouched, staring at her, cocking its head to one side, then the other, as if sizing her up.
It looked at the fire, then back at her. It backed up, then moved forward, then back again.
Afraid of the fire, but for how long?
The flames leapt over the bottom step, forcing her one step closer to the creature; she couldn’t hold her position much longer if she didn’t want to be burned to a crisp. Sweat poured down her back and a rivulet of it ran down her neck, chilling her despite the heat.
She had to think of something quick.
“Come on, you son of a bitch. If you want me, come get me.”
Saying that to the creature felt a little like tapping an angry bull on the snout with a stick, but she had to do something to get things moving.
It growled, crouched low and worked its claws, clenching and unclenching.
“Come on!”
That was all the encouragement it needed. It pushed off the top step, almost instantly on top of her. She was a hair quicker, and flattened herself against the steps as it flew over her and rammed into the door, falling into the flames.
Pulling herself up with the railing, she climbed the stairs in a hurry as the thing shrieked behind her, the flames blistering its flesh. She knew it wasn’t dead and would likely pursue her up the stairs.
She opened the balcony door and slammed it behind her, the pursuer roaring up the stairs and smashing into the door, full of pure idiot anger. She hurried to the far end of the balcony and grabbed the shotgun.
It kicked the door so hard it flew off the hinges and fell over the edge of the balcony. She aimed the shotgun and braced herself against the file cabinets, knowing that the shotgun would have one hell of a kick.
It charged and she fired, the gun digging into her shoulder. The blast hit the flaming creature in the face, and it staggered to the side and went over the edge, flaming and howling.
Her shoulder felt as if she had been mule-kicked, but there was no time to dwell on the pain. She had to find Liza and Harry and get the hell out of here before more of them came looking for her.
Looking over the edge of the balcony, she got a little taste of what hell might look like: a flaming pit filled with demons. Her Molotov cocktails had started fires in three locations, and the beasts flailed and pushed against each other to avoid the flames. One of them tried climbing the opposite balcony.
The gym stank of putrid flesh, and clouds of smoke rose from the crowd, swirling around the ceiling and blotting out the already dim emergency lights.
She coughed, realizing that they wouldn’t last much longer in here with all the smoke.
Looking to the stage, she saw Harry and Matt backing up as a group of demons advanced, Harry with Liza in his arms.
She took another Zippo out of the bag then pulled a Molotov cocktail from the box.
Lighting the rag, she lobbed it over the side, and it looked like a flaming meteor falling from the heavens. She didn’t wait for it to hit the ground before lighting the next one and tossing it over.
C
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“Go, Harry!”
Harry backed up into the rear curtain and slid through.
Matt scanned the creatures on the stage, looking for a subtle twitch or sign that would indicate a charge was coming. He could slow down maybe two of them with the automatic, but if they all came at once, he wouldn’t have a chance. The only thing in his favor was their arrogance, for they were sure they had him and could pick him off at their leisure.
A flicker of light caught his eye, then another. Glass shattered and a high-pitched wail rose from the crowd.
Another fireball hit the floor, lighting up the gym and sending the creatures rushing to get out of the way as the flames searched them out.
Rafferty and the beasts on the stage turned to see what the commotion was, and Matt took the opportunity to slip through the curtain and out the back stage door, closing it behind him. Jill had just saved their hides. At least for the moment.
Harry stood in the hallway with Liza in his arms.
“How is she?”
“Barely breathing.”
They passed through the hallway and service corridor, winding up in the cafeteria.
In his haste to escape the gym, Matt had forgotten about the unseen intruder that he had heard on his way to the stage. Now, when he glanced to the left, he saw it—a malevolent shape in the darkness. Its eyes glowed hotly.
“Go that way. There’s a boiler room where I came in. I smashed out the window.”
Matt took a clip from the gun belt and slammed it home. He had one more left after this one.
Harry started for the door that would take him to the boiler room. The creature sniffed the air, tracking its prey. The eyes moved back and forth, and Matt thought that this was what it would be like to be caught on train tracks at night, facing a locomotive. Only this locomotive had teeth and claws.
He backed up and aimed at the eyes, aware that more of them could come crashing through the door at any second.
It came for him, and he fired, the flash from the barrel lighting up the darkness, the monster slamming chairs out of the way.
Matt held the trigger down, the gun bucking in his hand, spitting shells at the still-charging creature. The gun clicked empty as it hit him. It was like getting run over by a Buick.
The gun slid away and it knelt on him, pinning his arms to his sides.
He struggled to move, but it only dug its knees deeper into his flesh.
It opened its mouth, ready to kill, and he closed his eyes, hoping for a quick death.
Smoke bellowed up from the gym floor as Jill lobbed the second-to-last Molotov cocktail over the balcony. She had tried to spread her volleys all over the floor, and it had paid off, as a good third of the crowd was on fire, thrashing and burning.
There was a thud as the gym door was battered open and they spilled into the stairwells, no longer afraid of the flames in the hallway now that the gym was an inferno.
After launching the second-last firebomb, she slung the duffel bag over her shoulder, not wanting to lose the transmitter. There was one more cocktail left plus the Zippo, and she shoved them in the bag just in case.
Then she picked up the shotgun and decided that since Matt and Harry had ducked out the back, it was time for her to get on her horse and ride.
If she stayed any longer on the balcony, she would be cut off.
She started for the door as one of them popped its head over the balcony wall. It must have leapt up, grabbed purchase on the bottom of the balcony and scrambled up to the top.
It reached an arm over, then a leg, intent on climbing over the lip. She wasted no time, pumping the shotgun, getting three feet from its head and firing. Its head exploded like a melon with an M-80 inside it. The headless body fell over the side and landed on one of its flaming brethren.
She tried to leave again, but the balcony door flew open and another one of them stepped out, hissing at her. Plumes of smoke rose from its skin and she could smell the scorched hair on its hide.
She pumped the weapon, ready to fire, when she was spun around from behind.
This one towered over her, and she knew it was Ed Rafferty coming to take her.
The cold floor pressed against the back of Matt’s skull.
He heard quick, heavy footsteps on the cafeteria floor and the grip on his arms loosened.
Opening his eyes, he saw Harry standing next to it, landing punches against its skull and shouting “Motherfucker!” over and over.
He must have pissed it off, for it thrust itself off of Matt and landed on Harry, who punched at it, landing haymakers that would have left a human bloodied and bruised. Instead, Harry’s fists bounced off as if he were pounding on a basketball.
Matt scrambled for his gun, but he was too late.
The thing raised its arm and brought it down, burying its claws in the side of Harry’s neck, blood spurting as his jugular gave way.
It shook Harry violently, looking like a man trying to remove a piece of tape from his finger. Matt moved up behind the beast, pointed his automatic six inches from the back of the skull and fired six rounds into the head.
The abomination jerked as blood and bone sprayed from its forehead. Its claws tore from Harry’s neck, effectively tearing Harry’s throat open and finishing him for good. The creature whipped to see who had put the bullets in its brain, and Matt fired three more into its face for good measure.
It fell to the ground and ceased to move.
Matt knelt at Harry’s side and cradled his head in his arms. His neck and shirt looked as if someone had dipped him in India ink, but Matt knew it was the darkness making it appear black. The blood would be a scorching shade of red in the light.
Harry’s eyes were open, the stare of the dead, and his mouth hung slack.
“Aw shit, Harry.”
Hot tears came to his eyes and he fought back the urge to vomit, reminding himself that there were still several hundred of Them running around.
Matt said an “Our Father,” the only prayer that came to mind, then closed Harry’s eyes. Then he ripped the American Flag from the flagpole that he had used to kill the other beast, and draped it over Harry’s body. Matt hoped the other creatures wouldn’t find Harry’s body; if they did, they would surely consume it. The man deserved more dignity than that.
Matt proceeded to the hallway outside the boiler room and found out why Harry had attacked so recklessly. Liza’s body rested on the floor, her arms crossed, hands folded as if in prayer. The infection and the time in the damp, cold cell had taken its toll on her. Without Liza, maybe Harry figured there wasn’t much to live for, or perhaps he wanted to join her. Whatever his reasoning, he had given his life to save Matt.
He would owe Harry Pierce for the rest of his life.
He said another “Our Father” for Liza and slipped into the boiler room. Winding his way around the boiler, he reached the window and pulled himself up, grateful now for the pull-ups he had done in the Army.
He got to his feet, hopped the fence and ran through the yard, then cut through the parking lot to the side of the school. Jill was still in there somewhere and he was ready to go back to get her, fire or no fire.
He slid along the wall until he reached the front of the building. A host of demons erupted from the doors, some of them on fire, others with skin burned down to the bone.
Lights came on in the houses across from the school.
God, please shut your lights off. It’ll attract them like moths to the flame.
An elderly man stuck his head out his front door, and one of the creatures immediately charged after him. It took off across the street, moving with terrifying speed to smash through the door. Matt could hear thin screams for mercy that would not come.
Focus on Jill. You can’t help those people
, he thought.
, he thought.
Matt backed up, realizing that the front door would not be an option. Then he heard a woman’s voice, frantic, yelling, “Let me go! Let me go, you son of a bitch!”
Jill.
He bolted around the corner and was knocked flat as one of them came around the corner.
Looking up, he could see the Rafferty-thing with his arm hooked around Jill’s waist, grinning as if to say, “Lookie what I got.”
Matt gripped the gun and raised it, but Rafferty thwarted him by wrapping his hand around Jill’s throat. She would be dead with one squeeze.
Jill still had the duffel bag slung over her shoulder, and she gripped the strap hard. Taking it off her shoulder, she swung the bag back and tossed it so that it skidded on the pavement and landed in front of Matt.
“Detonator,” she choked out. “In the bag.”
He unzipped the bag and found a white cylindrical radio transmitter. Keeping the gun aimed at Rafferty with one hand, he removed the transmitter with the other. In his haste to escape the school, Rafferty either hadn’t noticed the bag on Jill’s shoulder or hadn’t cared it was there. Whatever the reason, it was a godsend. Then he fished out a Zippo lighter and a Molotov cocktail rolling on the bottom of the bag.
Rafferty spotted the firebomb and the lighter, his amber eyes narrowed in suspicion, and released Jill to lunge at Matt. Matt set the Molotov and lighter down as fast as he could, and flipped the switch on the detonator.
There was nothing for a second, then a low blast erupted from the school’s guts, as if the hammer of the gods had struck at the foundation. The ground shook, and all three of them were thrown to the pavement. The school shook, fire licked from a basement window, glass whizzed through the air; a piece sliced Matt’s cheek open, and bits of stone and brick flew overhead.
The ones that had been at the front of the school picked themselves up from the ground as more of their brethren stormed from the front doors, some of them missing limbs, one completely decapitated but still moving. One dragged itself out on its belly, the once powerful legs smashed and twisted.
Rafferty took off across the school parking lot with his arm wrapped around Jill.
Matt got up and, looking around, shouted to the neighborhood in general: “Get back in your houses! Lock your doors!”
A woman in a pink housecoat got pinned to the ground, her fuzzy slippers visible as her legs thrashed in an effort to free herself.
Have to get to Rafferty
, Matt thought.
, Matt thought.
He scooped up the Molotov and the automatic, and ran back to the unmarked car. He started it up and peeled out of the parking lot. Rafferty was likely headed back to the police station, a logical choice. He could hole up there, maybe switch back into his regular form, thinking Matt couldn’t touch him there. He was wrong.
Matt pulled into the police station lot. He grabbed the automatic and the Molotov cocktail off the seat and jumped out of the car. The garage door stood open, as it had when he left. Light glowed from the open cell block door.
Rafferty rounded the corner, Jill in his arm. She thrashed against him, attempted to punch him.
That’s my girl
, Matt thought.
That’s my girl
, Matt thought.
He spotted Matt and stopped. He cocked his head and gave a grin, showing off those teeth again. Matt felt strangely calm. He had seen them enough now where the initial shock of their appearance didn’t bother him.
Rafferty proceeded to the open garage. He flung Jill to the ground, then turned around and, with a clawed finger, beckoned Matt to come closer.
Matt watched the muscles in Rafferty’s legs. They flexed, tensed. He was lowering himself into a crouch.
Now
.
.
Matt dropped into a shooter’s stance, and before Rafferty could spring, he held the trigger down. Rafferty started forward, but the force of fifteen slugs from the automatic tore into his hide, dropping him three feet before his intended prey. He rolled on his back. Black blood trickled down its face; one of the slugs had blown out his eyeball.
Matt looked down at him. “You killed my family. Now you have to burn.”
He lit the rag on the cocktail. It caught fire, and he raised it over his head. The creature looked up at him with dim awareness. Backing up, he smashed the cocktail on the ground next to Rafferty. Rafferty rolled, squealing like a dying pig. He lashed at Matt. Matt backed up and watched Rafferty’s vain attempt to claw at him.
In a moment he stopped, a blackened monstrosity.
Matt looked to the garage. Jill was up on her feet, the front of her shirt smeared with oil from the fall to the garage floor. She looked tired and ragged and beautiful.
“Is he ... ?”
Matt nodded. “Come here.”
Jill started toward him. As she came out of the garage, he heard the pop of gunshots and saw the front of her shirt erupt in a spray of red. She fell to her knees, a pleading look on her face.
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