Release

Chapter 6 Crisis

Seven trips, and the staircase was three quarters of a mile long. This was the only time in his life Ezekiel was jealous of Barry, who was probably back at the outpost stuffing his face.
During the walks up and down the stairs, Ezekiel had finally been able to look at the Scavengers gun thoroughly. Each one was mostly made of scrap metal, with very few actual gun parts, like firing pins and magazines. Apparently they had been able to reverse engineer the few original guns they had found while scouting.
The trips all took a while, and the Scavengers didn't actually manage to get all the parts they wanted, because the vehicles ran out of room. Ezekiel opened the passenger door to one of the trucks, but stopped when he heard a noise. Feet on gravel.
Jefferson must have heard it, too, because he took out his gun, and held his hand up for the other Scavengers to see. They all slowly took out their weapons, but none made a noise.
"We've been tracked," Ezekiel told Jefferson, who glared and tightened his finger around his trigger.
The Scavengers heard a growling, and at first Ezekiel thought it was some sort of wild animal. Then a figure jumped down from the rocks above the cave, then more followed. Ezekiel looked around, horrified. They were outnumbered at least five to one.
He recognized the blood soaked faces instantly, the faces that could give anyone nightmares for the rest of their lives. The faces with teeth sharpened to points and curved into their mouths, and the crazed eyes and patchy skin. The faces of the flesh-hunters, and they were surrounded.
The flesh-hunters looked at their prey, planning out silently who would be their first kill.
"To the cars?" asked Ezekiel.
"We won't make it," replied Jefferson.
The first flesh-hunter moved in, holding a spear made from stick and rock. Jefferson raised his gun and shot it in the head twice, splattering it's friends with blood.
Then it was war.
The first wave moved in at the same time as the second. The flesh-hunters had abandoned all strategy at the first sign of a threat, and now they were aiming to kill their prey as quickly as possible.
The first one moved in at Ezekiel with nails worse than talons, and he leaned back, dodging it, then launched a kick at it's chest. One of its ribs snapped, but it seemed not to notice, and continued to advance.
At the same time, another one ran at Ezekiel from the other side with some sort of shank.
Ezekiel kicked at it's jaw, then disarmed it while breaking it's wrist, and dodging the class of the first one. He stabbed the disarmed one in the back of the neck, dodged another strike, and slit the throat of the second flesh-hunter.
Ezekiel looked around, at least two Scavengers were already dead, and one was being devoured alive by a group of flesh-hunters. He found Jefferson taking on three with nothing but a knife. His gun was gone, thrown somewhere else.
Ezekiel dodged the attack of a third flesh-hunter,countered with an elbow to the eye, and ran at Jefferson's attackers. He leaped at the first one, knocking it to the ground and leaving his knife in between it's eyes.
He jumped back up, kicked another in the base of the neck. The pressure started to suffocate the flesh-hunter as it swelled, and he focused on the last one. It took a sloppy swing at him, which Ezekiel easily dodged, grabbing it's arm. Then he pinned it behind its back, reached up, and snapped its neck.
Jefferson dodged another one, rolling for the gun of one of his fallen comrades. He picked up the rifle and shot a flesh-hunter who was attacking another Scavenger, then took two more down with just as many bullets.
Ezekiel tried to kick away another attacker, which charged through his kick and tackled him to the ground. He wrestled with it, and it tried to bite him in the throat. He head-butted it, and threw it off. Both Ezekiel and his attacker got up at the same time, but only one stayed up.
The flesh-hunter fell forward, stunning Ezekiel. Then he recognized a small home made throwing knife at the base of its skull.
Damn, he thought.
He looked around and saw a figure similar to his size leaping into the battle, dressed in black and red. He couldn't see its face, but he knew who it was by the way it fought.
The figure launched a swinging kick, hitting the temple and killing its target with one kick, and threw another throwing knife, saving a Scavenger.
It then ran towards Ezekiel, and he knew exactly what it was doing, they had trained to do it so many times. He kneeled down and set his hands a few inches above the ground, and when the figure stepped on them he threw it into the air, where it threw two more knives.
Three flesh-hunters ran at Ezekiel, one which was engaged by the Disciple. One was killed quickly by Ezekiel, and the third landed a strike, biting his right side.
Ezekiel screamed, even after all of his training not to do so. It was more painful than anything Cain had prepared him for, and it dug into side with full force, tearing through flesh and bone. The way the teeth leaned into the cannibal's mouth made it a hundred times more painful, as when it tried to pull the hunk of flesh off of Ezekiel it just buried its teeth further into his side.
The Disciple threw its fifth and probably last throwing knife into the eye of the flesh-hunter, which released its grip, tearing through more flesh.
The Disciple snapped the flesh-hunter's neck, but it had done its damage already.
Ezekiel kneeled on the ground, the battle raging around him. He registered none of it, simply staring at himself in shock. Most of area around his bottom ribs and upper side had been ripped off, the bone exposed to the sunlight.
The battle finished not too long after he suffered his injury, but Ezekiel didn't even notice. He also didn't notice the argument over what to do with him.
He did, however, register the voice of the Disciple, who had taken her hood off, kneeling on the ground and looking him in the eyes.
"I'm taking you to Cole," she said, "you need medical attention, and they don't have anything to help you at the Outpost."
She waited for a response, but never got one.
"Nod if you understand me," she said loudly. Ezekiel nodded, but just barely.
"Your friend is driving us," she said calmly," I need you to get in the car. Can you do that?"
Ezekiel nodded again, and tried to say, "yeah," but it didn't come out right. So he just stood up and slowly walked to the truck, supported by the Disciple.
He made it into the truck, and laid down across the back seat, his senses taking their time to return to him.
"How many people have lived through a bite?" She asked the driver, who responded ,"none. Our antibiotics aren't enough. The infection has killed them all. He'll be the fifth to die from the battle. Slowest death, too."
"No he won't," replied the Disciple, "he's not dying. I won't let him," she turned and looked at the injured passenger, "Ezekiel, look at me. Do you know who I am?"
Ezekiel nodded, "I.. Is.." he tried to say, but couldn't finish the name.
"Dammit," she replied.
"What's happening to him?" the driver asked, "I thought you said he knew you!"
"He does," she answered, "he's in hypovolaemic shock. He's lost too much blood, so his blood pressure is dropping. He needs medical attention as soon as possible, or it'll kill him long before the infection does."
"Never mind, just tell me where to go," the driver said.
"Straight," she replied, "and step on it."
She turned around, her bright green eyes focused on Ezekiel's.
"Don't die on me," she said softly, "not now."