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Authors: Chris Stevenson

The War Gate (37 page)

BOOK: The War Gate
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The male officer’s voice caught in his throat when he saw the hideous face.

“Tag, you’re it,” said the mystery officer before he thrust his hand through the open window, catching the female’s fingers and the male officer’s neck with the same touch.

The female was the first to die. She fell into the lap of her partner. The male officer threw his head back, his body stiffening. Then the convulsions came. The last thing he saw was the tan headliner of his car. Then he knew no more.

 

###

 

The hour-long comedy ended. It had provided a small reprieve. Avy had even laughed out loud a few times. She decided to clear the empty food containers off the coffee table. She picked up the mitts, put them in her teeth, then reached for the boxes.

The doorbell rang, followed by a light knock.

She spit out the gloves, then dropped the boxes. Both men stirred. She crept to the front window and pulled back the curtain. She saw a uniformed officer on the porch, facing away from her, head down. He looked like the same one who had delivered the pizza boxes.

“Who’s at the door?” Sebastian grouched.

“Police,” said Avy. She walked to the front door and unhooked the latch. When she opened the door, a wave of stench rolled over her. The second thing that accosted her was the ghoul-like face sporting a collection of broken teeth in a slobbery maw. She stepped backward holding her breath, too far away from the door to slam it shut.

The Wax Man gave her a mock salute. “I was listening in on this, which clued me in on your whereabouts.” He wiggled a hand held police radio. “Care to dance with the devil?” He held out the other hand in invitation.

Avy backpedaled so fast her sneakers chirped over the varnished floor. She shrieked an alarm. The men reared up from their seats. Sebastian fumbled for his derringer. Chubby stooped, grabbing the oven mitts, then stepped in the middle of the living room, cutting off the Wax Man’s advance. He shoved his hands into the mitts and braced in a boxing stance.

The Wax Man shut the front door with a backward kick. “Fat boy want a little punch fest?” He advanced toward Chubby. “That was a very bad thing you did to Judas.”

Sebastian straight-armed his derringer, cocking the hammer. “Eat this!” He fired. The gun bucked in his hand. The bullet struck the Wax Man dead center in the chest, knocking him backward. He regained his stance, advanced again. Sebastian fired a second time, making what should have been a lethal hit, but the bullet left no more than an oblong smear on the uniform over the stomach area.

“He’s wearing a vest!” Chubby yelled.

Avy ran to the kitchen, grabbed a fistful of knives from the drawer and returned. She pitched them at the intruder, almost hitting the man, save for one that bounced off his shin. Sebastian picked up a sofa cushion to use as a shield.

Chubby lunged, swinging with a powerful uppercut. The Wax Man’s head rocked, spittle flying in ropy strands. Chubby charged him, swinging vicious punches, driving the foe toward the front door. The Wax Man planted a foot backward, kicking off the wall with his hand outstretched. He grazed Chubby across the forehead. The large man staggered backward for a moment, then collapsed to the floor.

“Get out of the house, Sebastian!” Avy screamed, backing toward the kitchen.

The Wax Man glanced at Sebastian, but then trained his colorless eyes on Avy. He stomped across the floor after her. She ran through a small laundry room, slamming the door behind her. She stepped out the back door, then positioned herself facing toward the house. Concentrating, she waited for the laundry door to burst open. When it did, she Walked. She arrived at the front door. She opened it, stepped through and knelt down to check on her fallen friend.

Chubby lay on his side gasping, trying to catch his breath. He choked out words. “Run, Avy, get away. Don’t touch me. It’s over.”

Sebastian ran to their sides. He tried to help Chubby up, but the large man had lost all muscle control and his eyes had rolled back in his head. He had a few last words for them, but they came out with gags. “Gah, go to your mother. Promise me. Tell her I believe—that I loved—” He closed his eyes, his breath leaving him in a shuddering wheeze.

“I promise you.” Avy squealed. “Oh God!”

The Wax Man came though the kitchen doorway, spotting the two kneeling on the floor. “So you’re a Walker,” he said. “I should have known this wasn’t going to be easy.”

There was no time to think about staying behind. Chubby lay lifeless on the floor. The Wax Man stood twenty feet away from them. Avy knew that in the next instant he would charge across the living room.

The couple rose to their feet, then scrambled through the front door. They ran across the lawn toward the parked Jeep.

With a last spark of defiance, Chubby thrust a feeble hand out when the Wax Man leapt over him. Losing his footing, the villain tumbled onto the porch, striking his chin on the concrete.

Sebastian fumbled with the keys, his hands shaking with such tremors he missed the ignition slot. Avy watched the Wax Man pick himself up, then begin to trot across the grass. She grabbed the keys away from Sebastian, stuck them in the ignition, turned it, and started the vehicle.

The Wax Man gained the street then angled off, trying to intercept the moving Jeep. He dove at the rear gate at the precise second Sebastian popped the clutch. The Jeep made a wild lurch. The Wax Man fastened a grip on the loading gate, toes dragging across the asphalt.

“Faster.” Avy yelled. “Weave—throw him off!”

Sebastian punched the accelerator, shifting gears. He yanked the steering wheel, almost colliding with a parked car. He made a sharp left turn, bringing the Jeep up on two wheels, then straightened it out.

They couldn’t throw the man off—the grip was tenacious.

Avy pulled a high-top tennis shoe off, then crawled to the back. She slammed it repeatedly on the black fingers with all the strength she could muster. With a final blow, the grip broke. The Wax Man hit the pavement, tumbling into the street end over end. Avy pitched the shoe away. She made her way back to the front passenger seat.

Sebastian looked at her, missed a shift grinding the gears. “I’m sorry, Avy. I couldn’t concentrate. I could have saved him. I just couldn’t concentrate.”

She wasn’t paying attention. Other terrible thoughts consumed her. The sight of Chubby lying on the floor tore unmercifully at her. In a few seconds, the tremors came upon her and she began to cry, her shoulders shaking with great heaving sobs.

“It’s okay, Avy, I’ll get us out of here. I won’t let him hurt you.”

That’s what Chubby had told her, she realized with horror. He had vowed to protect her with his life. Now he had honored that promise by paying the ultimate price. She shuddered to think how many more police officers had given up their lives. Even a helpless old dog had perished. It was fate. Destiny, God, angels—there were no such things that held sway over demons. She hated them all. She raised a fist into the breeze, shaking it like a hammer. “I
hate you
, Janus.” she called out. “I hate you most of all. Do you hear me? You allowed all of this—all of this because of me!”

The tears flowed until she lay back against the headrest, spent. The stars overhead winked at her, but she saw no beauty in them. She didn’t believe in them anymore, not even wishes upon them. Not now. What’s more, she didn’t believe in herself, convinced that she should never have been born. All of it, everything that had gone wrong, the deaths, misery, loss, had all been her fault.

She slammed her eyes shut, feeling nothing inside. Her only sensations were the swerves of the car. She couldn’t care less where they ended up. Some place far away, she hoped. Away from humanity, away from people that could be hurt. By her.

“No one can protect us now,” said Sebastian over the engine. “We’re on our own. I’ll get us there. I’ll keep us safe. I won’t let you down again.”

 

###

 

Avy opened her eyes. The car was no longer moving. She heard two sounds—the chirp of a cricket, mixed with Sebastian’s voice.

“We made it,” he said.

She leaned forward in her seat, squinting to focus in the dark. She could see nothing, save a cloak of black. After her eyes adjusted, she could just make out the gray mass of the water tower, standing like some fat bowlegged giant amongst the trees. Sebastian appeared at her side of the car and scooped her up in strong arms. He carried her to the old wooden ladder, then put her down.

“We’ll be safe here,” he said. “Let me help you, honey.”

She didn’t understand the change in him. She still felt numb—didn’t care much. But she began to pull herself up the rungs in a halfhearted attempt to climb, allowing him to spot her from behind. An incredible weariness came over her, and it took all of her strength just to move up the ladder. It seemed like her spirit had given up. Thoughts of letting go to fall to her death danced in her head like evil little muses, daring her to end all of the madness. Too late. She’d reached the top. He led her inside the tank, sitting her down upon a stale mattress that smelled of urine.

“I’ll be right back, Avy,” he said in the darkness. “I’m just going down to bring some things up, then stash the car. I love you, babe. Hold tight.”

She drew her knees up tight into her chest, indifferent to his sentiment. She listened while Sebastian made several trips up the ladder, hauling up camping gear. The temperature inside the metal hull hovered around fifty degrees. She had no jacket to ward off the chill. She had left all her personal items behind. They had no cellphone to call the authorities. They had no way to report what had happened to Chubby, or what they suspected had happened to the officers who had been guarding them. Of course, they were all dead. How could they not be?

She looked around in the darkness, fighting off a shiver. How long could they last in such a dismal, unforgiving place without going mad? Spurred on by his vendetta, would the Wax Man run them to ground again?

Sebastian returned, draped a comforter over her shoulders, then lit the wick on a small Coleman lantern. He turned it down to a tepid glow that provided enough light to see each other, along with their surroundings. He sat next to her, his armed curled around her waist. She ignored the gesture, her body incapable of feeling anything like comfort.

“I know it looks bad,” he tried. “I didn’t know where else to go. I wasn’t thinking straight. Maybe I should have taken us to the police station. I guess I just panicked.”

She didn’t speak. She heard his words but didn’t want to interpret the meaning. She wondered if he was just trying to make her feel better. Maybe his attempt at reconciliation made
him feel better. Right now, she didn’t trust anybody. Why should she?

“I’ve got the car hidden,” he said. “We’re safe here until I can figure out what to do. If it’s any comfort, you chopped off one of his fingers. I found it in the Jeep bed. I flicked it out with a stick, then kicked dirt over it.”

She had nothing to say. She fell on her side, drawing the blanket over her shoulders. She could feel him cuddle close. It sent a chill up her spine.

 

###

 

She had no concept of the passage of time. No clue how many days they had spent inside the water tower. She did nothing more than sleep or take occasional sips of water. In spite of Sebastian’s pleas, she refused to eat from the small plates he had offered her, including the MREs he had found in Chubby’s camping gear.

“You haven’t eaten a thing in two days,” she heard him say. It could have been two years for all she cared. She kicked the plate over.

He took hold of her wrist. “Okay, fine. Then we have to leave so we can get you help.”

She wrenched her hand away, then fell onto the mattress. She pulled the comforter over her head, clamping off the sound of his voice. He spoke for ten minutes more before giving up.

 

###

 

She awoke in the evening, sitting bolt upright, startled by a terrible nightmare. Sweat drenched her jogging suit. Her heart thumped in her chest. Sebastian was gone. For a moment, the loneliness ravaged her. She wondered if that was a good sign, an indication that real feelings were returning. She relaxed somewhat when she heard the scuffing sounds on the ladder outside, sending a tremor through the tower.

Sebastian appeared, ducking under the ragged opening. He carried a gallon can of lantern fuel. When he noticed she was awake, he set the can down.

“Jesus, you’re up.” he said. “I was just about to fix dinner. I hope you don’t mind, but I found an old pair of Chubby’s sneakers in his gear. I put them on you while you were asleep. Can’t go traipsing around with one bare foot.”

She looked at the shoes and wiggled her toes. How ironic that they were a close fit. Chubby had had small feet. He wouldn’t need these anymore. She sniffed. He provided for her even after he was dead. There was still no way to come to terms with his loss. She tried to banish the terrible last images she had of him from her mind. Instead of thinking about it, she watched Sebastian prepare a small meal using a one-burner cooking stove. He set a plate by her side when he finished.

“Avy, I’ve been worried about you. If you need to blame someone, you can start with me.”

She looked at the goulash. A tiny plastic fork stuck up from the sizzling little mound.

“It’s hash,” he said. “You’ve got to eat something, Avy. Please, for both of us. We’ve got so much to live for—we need to keep up our strength. Your health is an issue right now.”

She took a few small bites. “Chubby doesn’t need his health anymore,” she said monotone.

“I know that, sweetheart. I am so sorry about that. He gave his life for us—for you. How do you think he would feel right now if he saw you like this? It would break his heart. You meant so much to him. You mean so much to me.”

“Do you mean that?”

“I mean it with all my soul. I’ve been crazy these past few days, out of my mind with revenge. I apologize for all of it. You’re going through something like that now. It’s shock. You’re here with me, yet you’re gone, somewhere far away. I need you to reach back to grab a hold of those feelings. I need you to fight again. I need you to realize that you’re alive, blessed with a righteous purpose. Do you know what I’m saying?”

BOOK: The War Gate
7.56Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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