The Rabid: Fall (5 page)

Hiking uphill is no small feat, especially with the leaves sliding around beneath our feet. I’ve slipped backwards more than once, ass first into Katia, which has caused her to slide backwards into Sonny, who then has to latch onto a tree to stop our descent.

“Really, Tim, again?” Katia lets loose with a frustrated grunt before shoving me off of her.

“Sorry, these boots aren’t exactly made for climbing.”

“Not made for climbing. Not made for running. Get a new pair of boots.”

“Not in this lifetime.” I throw my weight forward and continue the trudge. It’s not long before we crest another small hill and stop to huddle and catch our breath. I can see the tower rising high above the trees. I don’t see any movement on the catwalks, but there are numerous windows encircling every floor; eyes could be anywhere.

“So what’s the plan when we get up there?” Katia asks. She’s not even breathing heavy and there’s not a drop of sweat to be found on her brow.

“We can’t just go storming the place. We’ll sit on the perimeter, see what we can see, and just go from there.”

“Pretty half-assed.”

“It’s all we’ve got.”

“No, we’ve got a Humvee waiting for us about a half-mile back. We could be there in twenty-minutes.”

“Katia—”

“I know, Tim. Just let me bitch, it makes me feel better.”

“Alright.” I kiss her and stand. “Let’s go see what’s waiting for us.”

8

“Sick bastards,” Katia spits with disgust as she takes in the large circle of crucified Rabid drawing a barrier around the outside perimeter of the parking lot.

“Or smart bastards,” I respond.

“Come again?”

“It’s an effective tactic to keep people away, look at your reaction.”

“Maybe. But it takes a certain depravity to be able to do something like this. Not sure I want to meet the folks behind it.”

“You might not have to.” We’re on our stomachs at the edge of the tree line near the side of the tower. There’s still no sign of any occupying force. “They may have put up their little defensive perimeter, cleaned the place out, and moved on.”

“Only one way to find out,” Sonny says. “Why don’t you guys let me take point this time?”

I look to Katia.

She shrugs.

“Lead away, sir.”

Sonny jumps up way too fast and bounds across the small expanse of parking lot, slamming against the side of the tower. He’s standing there and waving frantically for us to follow. The guy reminds me of a hyper, little dog; he’s all bottled energy and no release valve.

Katia comes up to one knee. “He’s going to get us killed.”

“But isn’t he cute?”

“A-fucking-dorable.” She takes off towards the tower, hunched over at the waist, her swords low, the tips almost dragging the ground.

I give her five paces before following, switching my field of fire from left to right, looking for anything moving.

Sonny takes a big breath, blows it out, and begins circling us around the tower towards the door.

There are a few cars still in the parking lot; mostly four-door sedans and one ice cream delivery truck with the serving shutter still open. As we move further around the tower, more crosses are revealed. One of the Rabid has come loose and is dangling by a putrid palm, its head is sagged over on one shoulder, and there’s a big butcher knife protruding from the center of its skull.

“It’s all glass!” Sonny hisses back over his shoulder.

“It’s all gl—”

“Yeah, Katia, I heard him.” I move around her and crouch between them, trying to get a look into the front of the building without making myself too vulnerable. “It’s gonna be hairy, no matter what we do.”

“We don’t have to do anything; we can just turn around and go back.”

“We came this far, we should probably see it through…in my opinion,” Sonny says.

Katia looks up at me, a dim bulb of hope in her eyes.

“You know I’m with Sonny on this.”

“Fine, but I call the shots from here on in. If I’m getting picked off by some batshit crazy cult, then I’m doing it on my terms.”

“I doubt they’re a cult.”

“They’re crucifying Rabid.”

“It’s survival, there’s nothing ritualistic here.”

“Okay, whatever, do we have a deal?”

I look at Sonny and shrug. “Fine by me.”

Sonny looks a bit letdown about his brief time as point-man coming to an end, but he finally relents and steps back to let Katia take the reins.

“We go in hard, loud, straight through the glass.”

“Wait, what?” Sonny shakes his head in disbelief.

“Come again?” I bend my ear towards Katia.

“You heard me.”

“Yeah. I heard you. I’m just making sure that you heard you. A second ago, you were worried about getting attacked and now you want to storm the joint.”

“You got a better idea? The front of this place is one giant window; one way in, one way out. Better we try to get the jump on them.”

Her logic is sound; ballsy, but sound. “Sonny, you game?”

He’s pale as he nods and raises his rifle to his chest.

“Alright. On me.”

I’m leading the pack, snuggled up at the corner of the tower, where the cement connects with the glass wall that makes up the front of the lobby. I hold up a hand for Sonny and Katia and begin counting down on three fingers. As soon as I lower the final digit, I break from cover and raise the rifle to my shoulder, my index finger closing on the trigger, the muzzle aimed at the top right-hand corner of the first giant window.

The glass explodes back in my face, embedding itself like tiny claws in my cheeks and forehead; there’s also a searing pain in my right shoulder. I drop my rifle and bring my hands up to my face, a kneejerk reaction, and a stupid one at that; a painful reminder that I’m no soldier, I’m still just a shit-scared teenager.

“Tim!” Katia screams as I stand there bellowing in pain and holding my face. She’s on me in seconds, pulling me back into cover.

I can hear the shotgun now and a woman’s voice screaming, “You won’t get me, sonsofbitches! Not without a fight!” There are two more shotgun blasts and more glass shattering.

Katia is on top of me. Her face appears hazy through the curtain of blood billowing across my eyes. “Stop moving! Stop moving! Let me see!” Her hands are on my neck, her thumbs on either side of my jaw, turning my head back and forth. “Sonny, shoot that bitch!”

Sonny’s suppressed rifle whispers a flurry of lead into the tower lobby.

There’s a pause as he reloads.

“That’s all you got?” the woman mocks. “You see them crosses? You see them sonsofbitches I nailed up there?Those sonsofbitches couldn’t take old Martha Turkins! You really think the lot of you can?” There are three more reports from her shotgun.

“Shit!” Sonny yelps.

“You hit?” Katia is frantic.

“No! Something got in my eye! It’s out now, I’m fine.”

“Just keep your head down!” Katia is turning my face again. “Crazy bitch is bound to run out of ammo eventually.”

The woman discharges a crude laugh. “Keep dreamin’, sweetheart! I got enough firepower in here to last me through the next apocalypse!” A drum-roll of automatic gunfire serves to prove her point.

“She’s got a machine gun, Katia!” Sonny’s voice quivers.

“I heard! Just shoot back! I’m busy!” Katia holds my head still. “I told you we should have turned around! Didn’t I tell you?”

“I’m blind! I’m fucking blind!” The red curtains have closed completely. The world has gone black. That bitch shot me in the eyes. The burning pain in my shoulder has dissolved into a dull throbbing.

“Hold still, damn it! You’re not blind. You’ve got blood in your eyes.” I feel her thumbs sliding over my eyelids. “Open your eyes, stop squinting. Can you see?”

“It burns like hell, but I can see.”

“Your face is messed up and you’ve got buckshot in your shoulder. Can you move your arm?”

I can, but the pain is immense. I gasp and clench up. “How bad is it?”

“You’re not bleeding out. We’ll have to get the pellets and glass out and get you cleaned up so you don’t get infected.”

I look to the tower. The gun battle between Sonny and the entrenched woman is still raging, with Sonny getting the sharp end of the stick. He’s huddled up, blind firing around the corner as he receives volley-after-volley of machine gun and shotgun fire in return; giant chunks of wall peel off and smash him in the face.

“We’ve gotta put an end to this,” Katia says. “The gunfire is a smoke signal for the Rabid. If she doesn’t plug our asses, they will chomp our asses. We need to run or end this bitch.”

I push up on my good arm and climb to my feet, my vision blurry, my head swimming. I stumble towards Sonny. My rifle is still lying in the parking lot.

“What the hell are you doing, Tim?” Katia pulls at my shirt tail, but I shake her off.

“Sonny, cease fire!”

He recoils as more bullets chip away at his cover.

“Ma’am, can you hear me?”

“Course’ I can hear you, numb nuts. You the little shit I blasted?”

I push Sonny back and take his place. “That’s me. Pretty solid aim with that shotty, almost took my head off.”

“That was the goal. Seeing as how you’re still yappin’ away, it sounds like I’m out of practice.”

I can hear her loading shells into the shotgun and then the distinct, ass-puckering sound of her racking the slide. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, that glass could throw anyone off. You gave my shoulder a spanking and ruined my youthful good looks, so it’s not a total loss.”

“Butter me up, sweetheart, but if you’re thinkin’ that schoolboy charm is gonna get you anywhere with me, you’re about forty years too late.”

Katia wraps a firm hand across my good shoulder. “What the hell are you doing, Two-Step?”

“Trying to prevent more bloodshed, just stand back.”

“What you folks whispering about out there? It ain’t polite to whisper.”

“We were just wondering if you’re alone?”

“Thinkin’ just because you got numbers and youth that you can take old Martha Turkins? Keep dreamin’, you wobbly-kneed, little good for nothin’—”

“Wait!” I yell, louder and harsher than I intended to. “We’re not here to hurt you, ma’am. We’ve got no quarrel with you.”

“That why you came around that corner with your rifle raised? That why you’re asking if I’m alone? Weighing your chances, right?”

“After the stuff we’ve seen, the stuff we’ve been through, we never let our guard down. Every situation is hostile for us until proven otherwise.”

She makes a noise that sounds almost like admiration. “Well now, I reckon that’s smart.”

“I reckon so too.”

“Tim!” Katia’s lips brush my ear. “Why are we bothering with this loony bitch? Let’s just go!”

More blood has begun trickling across my brow. I wipe it away with the back of my arm. “You seem pretty smart yourself. The crosses, the barricade, definitely will put a second thought into the heads of any folks coming this way with ill intent.”

“Might need to put up a few more, seeing as how y’all are standing out there.”

“Ma’am, we’ve got no ill intent. We’re just looking for some shelter, looking to get off the road for a little bit. That’s it.”

“Prove it.”

“I’m proving it right now, aren’t I?”

“Not to my liking. Have your friends throw their weapons out there beside yours.”

“Not gonna happen, lady!” Katia yells, fueling the flames.

“I’ve got enough left in here for you too, little missy!”

Katia rolls around me and draws her swords.

I grab her left arm and pull her back. “What are you doing?”

“You’re cozying up to the bitch that shot you!”

“She’s scared, can’t you see that? What would you have done?”

“I ain’t scared of shit, you little pipsqueak, bring it on!”

“That’s not how I meant it. I worded it wrong. You’re being cautious, like anyone in your situation would be. You’re surviving.”

“Damn right I am, now throw them weapons out, now!”

“Do it, Katia. Throw the swords out. You too, Sonny, toss the gun.”

“But—” Sonny starts to protest, but I give him a hard stare and he relents. He lowers the rifle, removes the mag, and ejects the round in the chamber.

“Wait, Sonny!” Katia shoves him back before he can toss the gun. “This is suicide!”

“I got a feeling. Please, just go with me on this. I’ll step out first. Just toss the swords.”

“We’ll have nothing—”

I pull the back of my shirt up, revealing the pistol in my waistband. “Trust me.”

She looks at me, doubt still rippling in her eyes, but she grants a solemn nod and tosses her swords away. They clatter in front of the building, snuggling up next to my rifle. “Go ahead, Sonny.”

Sonny does as instructed, chunking the rifle first and then the magazine; he pockets the bullet.

“Good,” Martha says, “step on out here where I can see you, take it real slow and keep your hands high.”

I know this play is a gamble, a cowboy move, but I intend to see it through. I go first, moving real slow, foot-over-foot, just as Martha instructed. I’ve got my hands high. I move until I’m in front of the tower lobby, standing over my rifle, exactly where I was when Martha damn near took my head off. The buckshot in my shoulder is chomping in deep, my right arm is shaking like crazy, begging for relief, but I know if I lower my hands,
ol’ Martha Turkins
won’t hesitate to send another hailstorm of lead my way.

“Keep it coming. Away from those guns, boy. Remember, I ain’t stupid.” Martha emerges from the shadows, a heavyset woman, wearing a pair of distressed blue jeans, a loose white and pink shirt adorned with flowers, a denim jacket, and a pair of black boots that strangle her shins. Her fire-red hair emerges in frizzy ribbons from beneath a camouflage trucker cap. “You’re a young’un.” She looks from me, to Katia, to Sonny. “All y’all are still shaking off the afterbirth. Surprised to see such little fish, I thought it was only the sharks that’d managed to survive these waters.”

“We swim really, really fast,” Katia says.

“He didn’t swim so fast.” Martha motions towards me with the barrel of the shotgun. She walks to the edge of the lobby, standing just beyond the broken window. “Come here, boy.”