The Darkness (15 page)

Jacob
ran next, covering the space in a few strides and forcing himself not to look
at the woman as he ran past her. He fell in behind Stephens and pressed against
the building. He and Stephens waited for the rest of them before the team
formed back up and pushed ahead along the side of the building while still
hiding in the shadows. They avoided views of the street, choosing instead to
stay close to the structures and hidden from the windows.

They
continued this movement of leapfrogging open spaces, hugging buildings, and
resting in the shadows. They paused often to rest while hiding and scanning
their surroundings. As they moved deeper into the residential lot, the sounds
of the parading mass faded. Stephens led them between two tall stacked
condominiums along a narrow sidewalk that led between the buildings and to
another parking lot. Jacob slid next to Stephens with Tyree and Murphy at their
backs. Looking around the corner, he could see a long, dark street laid out
from left to right. Just to the front of them was a sheet metal-roofed carport
that served as resident parking for the apartment buildings. Stephens hung at
the corner to survey both directions before quickly traversing the gap. He
crouched next to a car in a nearly empty covered-parking lot before waving
Jacob on.

Jacob
sprinted ahead and stopped next to the structure. Designed to keep the weather
off the cars, it was nothing more than a roof and sheet metal walls that stopped
a foot from the ground. With the solid cover, he was able to walk to the edge
where Murphy called them. Looking out, Jacob could see they were now at the end
of the city block. A gravel drive led away from the structure and into a wide
two-lane street. At the end of the street was a wall barrier made of coiled
wire and sandbags; military vehicles were parked in the grass and across the
corner. The passageway itself was blocked at both ends. The scene of a final
stand, weapons and equipment covered the street; bloody drag trails moved over
the barriers and down the sidewalks, leaving remnants of clothing.

Beyond
the barricade was a fortified corner lot occupied by a commercial bank
building. A tattered military tent stood limply beside the bank amid more
collapsed and tumbling sandbag structures. A fire truck was parked diagonally
across the lot and all the windows in the truck’s cab were broken. Murphy
slowly moved out of cover and approached the barricade with the team close
behind. As he got closer, Jacob could see human bodies hanging in the wire.
Beyond the roadblock, a soldier was dead on the ground with his rifle still
tight in his hands. Stephens stopped next to the body and removed the rifle. He
quickly checked the weapon’s action, then inserted a fresh magazine and
exchanged the rifle for Tyree’s pistol. Jacob stood over the dead soldier, not
speaking, then turned away to keep watch while Stephens and Murphy scavenged
for equipment.

“It’s
crazy; they recover their dead. All these bodies are… human,” Stephens said.

Jacob
turned back. “All of them?”

Murphy
was going through the Humvee and pulled a soldier from the turret before
removing magazines from the man’s load-bearing vest while saying, “I haven’t
seen one of them yet.”

Tyree
shook his head. “Why would they take them?”

“Who
knows,” Murphy answered as large explosions to the west took his attention.
“How much farther is it?” he asked Tyree.

“We’re
close… not far,” Tyree said. “The golf course is just across the street, other
side of the bank.”

Murphy
nodded. “Let’s move.”

Chapter 19

Tall
shrubs lined the sidewalk that wound along the bank’s perimeter. The shrubs
connected with a sandbag wall topped with a single row of razor wire. The long
wall shielded the containment area of the parking lot but a large swath of it
was knocked down and the bags pushed inward. The ensuing avalanche of bags
continued down and through the once finely manicured line of shrubs. The wire
over the fallen bags stretched to the point of snapping, its loose un-coiled
ends now lying twisted and mixed with the bags. Jacob and the team lay on their
bellies at the mouth of the breach, looking out with Murphy using Tyree’s
telescope to scout the terrain ahead.

Jacob
lay looking at the terrain as Murphy pointed out landmarks. The ground ahead
was flat and open for fifty feet with very little cover available from trees.
Other buildings and structures were far apart so there would be little
available to hide behind. Beyond the initial narrow street, ran a four-lane
road with a lone bus stop to one side and then a thin stretch of median grass.
Beyond the grass was an access road that curved around and led deeper into the
park; they would be out in the open until they hit the golf course. At the edge
of the fairway, a row of trees ran parallel to a path that skirted a tall
chain-link fence bordering the golf course.

“That
path,” Tyree pointed far into the distance, “will take us all the way to the
boats. The harbor is fenced; I don’t know if the gate will be closed, but it ain’t
high. We can jump it if it is.”

Murphy
looked out with the scope and pivoted, following the path. Then he handed the
scope off to Stephens.

“See
any of them?” Jacob asked.

Murphy
shook his head. “No, but they’ll be there… hiding… waiting.”

Stephens
collapsed the scope and handed it back to Tyree before pulling his rifle back
into his shoulder. “How you want to do this, Sergeant?”

“Tyree,
you lead. You run into anything, shoot it in the face. Stephens, we have the
flanks; run alongside the fence—it’ll keep one side protected—get to the
harbor, find something that floats. Jacob, how’s the hip?”

“I’ll
live,” Jacob answered.

Murphy
smiled. “I hope so. We’re running the entire way. One eight-minute mile and
we’re on the water. Don’t stop; we have to stay ahead of them. If we get pinned
down, they’ll mass on our position. We can’t afford to fight our way out of
that.”

“Got
it,” Jacob said. The rest nodded their heads.

Murphy
pulled back the bolt on his rifle, locking it to the rear. He dropped the
magazine and inserted several loose rounds from his pocket to top it off. Jacob
watched the veteran soldier push on the rounds, then after reinserting the
magazine, let the bolt go forward. Jacob mimicked Murphy’s actions and readied
his own weapon.

Murphy
looked up, grinning. “Good day for a boat trip. Tyree, whenever you’re ready,”
Murphy said.

Tyree
crawled forward through the crumbling barrier and rose up, scrambling through
and around the wire. Once he reached the street, he looked back to ensure he
was being followed. Tyree paused long enough to allow the team to gather around
him.

“Okay
Ty, find me a boat,” Murphy said, slapping him on the back.

Jacob
watched as Tyree crawled to the edge of the bags then, without speaking, took
off running across the street toward the faraway tree line. He felt Murphy’s
slap signaling for him to follow. Jacob pulled his rifle flat against his chest
and ran, trying to keep pace close behind the younger man. Murphy and Stephens
were to his left, running just feet away. He cut across the first street,
stepped onto the narrow median, then on to another small blacktop road. Finally
running across grass, he was in the park.

Tyree
was pulling away, running too fast. A clustered group of figures stood up out
of the shade near a patch of trees. Jacob saw them and wanted to shout a
warning to Tyree. He willed his legs to move faster and try to catch up. A
gunshot shattered the silence. One member of the clustered group had a small
pistol in the air and fired in the team’s direction as the rest of the Others
took chase.

Tyree
pivoted and let loose several wildly fired rounds, low and wide, in the
direction of the runners. Murphy and Stephens yelled for him to continue on
while the two soldiers fired instead. They knocked down the one with the pistol
and quickly dropped the rest. Jacob was now running alongside Tyree; he could
see another cross street and, at the bottom of a low hill, the harbor was just
coming into view.

Tyree
raised his hand and pointed at a large group running directly at them from the
edges of the park ahead. The group was to the team’s left and moving on an
angle that would intersect them at the harbor gate.

“I
see them; don’t stop, get to the boats!” Murphy yelled.

Jacob
crossed the street separating the golf course from the park, carrying his rifle
in his right hand. He pushed himself on and felt his lungs burning. In his
peripheral vision, he saw the swarm rolling in closer with every second and he
could hear their cries growing louder. They were behind them now and pursuing
from the city. Jacob’s adrenaline surged as his vision narrowed to focus on the
water in the distance. Enclosed by a tall, black iron fence, the harbor lay
just ahead. The gate was open and Tyree pushed through while the sounds of
Murphy and Stephens’ rifles filled the air.

Jacob
ran through the gate and on to a parking lot inside, which paralleled a
boardwalk and a number of small docks. The first of the docks held several
small boats. Having already crossed the lot and hurdled over a small fence,
Tyree was nearing the dock when he stopped and looked back at Jacob.

Jacob
waved him on and yelled, “Ready the boat; I’ll get the gate!”

A
sliding gate, secured with a chain lock, was left gaping in the open position.
Jacob used his rifle to shoot at the lock, the third time successfully
shattering its mechanism. The lock exploded and fell from the chain. Heaving
with his back, Jacob pulled at the gate until it broke free and swung toward
the closed position. Jacob left just enough space to allow Murphy and Stephens
to squeeze through.

The
gunfire put Jacob’s attention back to the distance; Murphy and Stephens were
behind an abandoned car, firing into the charging mob. Jacob spotted a man far
behind the mob, raising a rifle and preparing to fire. Rounds already pinged
off the car’s hood, dangerously close to Stephens.

Jacob
raised his rifle. Eye to the sight, he focused on the far-off target and pulled
the trigger. A clear miss—he didn’t even see the round impact near the gunman.
Using a trick his father taught him years ago when he learned to shoot, he
aimed low and watched the rounds splash into the grass to the low right of the
target. He adjusted his aim and fired again, this time knocking the man down.
With the mob now closing in, Jacob dropped his point of aim and began firing
rapidly into the mass.

Murphy
and Stephens fell back, firing steadily until they reached the fence. Once they
passed through, Jacob slid the gate shut behind them. Stephens removed a D-ring
from his vest and placed it on the gate’s hasp moments before the mob collided
with it. Jacob raised the rifle and shot one point-blank in the face. Even as
it fell back, another quickly took its place.

“Go;
leave them!” Murphy ordered, already turning to run toward the dock.

Tyree
had a small boat untied and was standing on the bow, holding a rope while
waiting for Jacob and the rest. Stephens grabbed Jacob by the back of his vest,
pulling him along as they ran for the small boat. Jacob moved behind while
Murphy leapt over the bow and climbed to the controls. When Jacob neared the
bow, Stephens grabbed at Jacob’s jacket and pushed him aboard. Taking the rope
from Tyree, he shoved the boat off the dock and into the water then jumped
aboard as it drifted away.

The
boat continued to pull away slowly, gliding through the water as Murphy called
out, “I can’t start the motor; I got this running off the battery, but we won’t
have much speed.”

A
round shattered the small windshield; Stephens spun around, raised his rifle,
and squeezed off several shots before being hit in the chest. He fell back,
nearly rolling off the deck. Tyree dove, caught his arm, and pulled him back to
the center. Jacob brought up his own rifle and aimed at the shoreline. The mob
was climbing the iron fence and more were pouring in from the sides farther up
the drive. They were ringing the water, yelling and shouting while, beyond the
gates, more armed men hid in the shadows and fired at the boat.

Murphy
fired quick rounds and then lifted his head to yell at Jacob, “Prioritize your
targets! Shoot what’s shooting at us.”

Jacob
saw three men running along the roadway carrying rifles, one leading by several
feet. Jacob fired then watched the first one drop and trip up the one that was
following close behind. Jacob shifted his point of aim, fired again, and saw
another man drop. A round impacted the boat’s deck near his knees, causing
Jacob to dive over the windscreen and take cover in the cabin. He held the
rifle and continued to search and fire at targets while the boat crept along.

They
were moving in on a bridge and would have to pass below it before entering the channel
that would bring them into Lake Michigan. The surface of the crossing was
covered with the Others, arms outstretched and reaching for them. Jacob fired
up at their black eyes, taking a strange satisfaction in watching them tumble
over the rail and into the water.

“We’re
fucked!” Stephens called out. Lying back against the cabin with blood spilling
from a rip in his vest, he struggled to swap magazines with one hand. He
finished the task and brought his rifle back up. “Too many of ’em.”

“There!”
Tyree screamed, spotting two attack helicopters.

”Stephens,
smoke!” Murphy called while watching the Apaches circle around in a search
pattern.

Stephens
struggled with his left arm to free a smoke canister from his gear. He pulled
it free of the pouch and tossed it under handed to Jacob.

“Get
it on the bridge!” Murphy yelled.

Jacob
held the canister in his right hand and pulled the pin. He threw it as hard as
he could, but the grenade hit the bottom deck of the bridge and bounced into
the water. Thinking he’d failed, Jacob cringed—then the channel surface erupted
and red smoke boiled out of the water, quickly forming a cloud.

“Stephens,
get your strobe on!” Murphy yelled. Reaching to his own collar, he connected a
battery to a small device that he then inserted into a carrier on his chest.

The
Apache helicopters dipped their noses then circled back around, at first flying
away before cutting a high angle into the sky and turning ninety degrees to
line up with the bridge. They hovered in the air, rapidly firing rounds that
exploded all along the bridge just before rockets screamed from the helicopters
and splashed into the banks. The bridge erupted in plumes of yellow flame and
black smoke.

The
Apaches split apart, strafing opposite sides of the shoreline and clearing the
way for Murphy to get back on the throttle and ease the boat through the
wreckage of the bridge and into the upper harbor. Jacob saw Murphy yank
ignition wires from the battery and short them to the engine. The big outboard
roared to life.

“Tyree,
steer this hog,” Murphy said. Jacob ran to the back deck and helped Murphy
lower the heavy outboard engine into the water.

The
boat rocketed forward with Murphy manually opening the throttle. Tyree cut the
wheel and guided them into the channel. Fire and smoke billowed on both sides
of the approach to the lake as the helicopters continued to provide cover while
they raced through the channel. The boat jetted a course straight into Lake Michigan
and away from land.

Clear
of the shore, Murphy dropped the throttle and the engine quickly lulled into an
idle as the boat stopped hard in the water and bobbed ahead. Murphy went to
Stephens’ side and found that he was unconscious. He pulled away the wounded
soldier’s vest and pressed a dressing against his wound. Jacob looked away and
back to the shore, now barely visible in the distance. The engine had died and
all they could now hear was the water slapping against the sides of the boat.

Tyree
turned around in the captain’s chair he’d been occupying and asked, “What do we
do now?”

“Come
get pressure on this wound,” Murphy answered.

Jacob
climbed across the deck and held a hand to Stephens’ chest where Murphy’s had
been. Murphy tossed back a seat cover from a bench to reveal a storage area
below. Throwing out fishing gear and life jackets, he located a small first-aid
kit. He pulled the kit open, dumped its contents onto the deck, then sorted
through the items until he found a package of gauze dressing, and went back to
Stephens’ side. Murphy replaced the soaked field dressing with the new pads and
then put Jacob’s hands back in place.

“Don’t
worry, guys, it won’t be long now,” Murphy said just over the low pitch of a
red Coast Guard helicopter flying in their direction.