I awoke to the sound of feet running up and down the hallway and screaming. I shot up, having to take a second for the dizziness to dissipate. Dim light was shining through the cracks between the window and the upturned table, allowing me to see; barely.
"Bailey?" Chloe appeared from the bedroom, having been jolted awake like I had. "What's goin' on?"
"I don't know," I said as I got up and took a look out the glass.
The sky was a gnarled mass of blue tinged clouds. I'd seen only a handful of rainy days here in the last few months and today had to be one? If I was the type, I'd say it was a sign. Luckily I didn't believe in that stuff. A burst of gunfire made me yank my view to the ground where I spotted the source of the commotion.
The surrounding street was littered with infected. They were ambling towards the apartment in unhurried numbers. Roy was on the street showcasing an automatic weapon and two others from inside were out on the street with him. I ran to my bag and rummaged for my handgun. It was loaded with a full magazine and I pocketed some extra bullets just in case. I needed my axe, which I had stupidly left in the car. I didn't want to freak anyone out by bringing in the intimidating weapon. There was a reason there was the term axe murderer.
"Stay here."
"But Bailey-"
"This isn't negotiable, Chloe."
She looked at me like she had every intention of sticking her tongue out, but just nodded stiffly. I slid the chain lock out and twisted the deadbolt, exiting the stuffy apartment. As I ran to the stairs I noticed some people were hiding in the other rooms, huddled on beds and couches. I took the stairs two at a time until I hit the bottom, almost knocking over Elaine.
"Help me round up everyone!" she demanded.
"You do that, I'm going outside to help with the infected," I inched around her.
"Do you even know how to use that?" Elaine eyed the gun in my hand, with a superior look.
"Care to find out?" I wasn't in the mood to pretend to be pleasant. "Perhaps you should leave the work to the people who know how to defend themselves."
With a glare, she turned from me and headed to the next floor. We both had better things to do than compare cup size. I ran down the hallway and found the doorman gone from his post. He must have been one of the others out there. The door behind the desk was wide open, showing the stash of weapons they had.
I looked around to make sure no one saw and let myself in. The room was the size of a small storage closet and metal shelves lined the tiny area. There were boxes of bullets, guns and various melee weapons. Clearly this room should be locked up tight, but the guard was currently MIA. I'm sure they wouldn't mind me using something if it was to help.
I quickly scanned the shelves, my eyes passing over the AK-47 and other automatic weapons. I would be no use with those. There was a solid, wood bat that I grabbed and pocketed some extra 9mm bullets. With my borrowed weapon in hand and I pushed open the front doors, fat droplets of rain greeting me. The burst of automatic gunfire was echoing in the streets, spurring on the infected. Roy and the others were too afraid to get any closer and it showed with their aim. They were just wasting the bullets as they sailed through the fray.
An infected had started to creep up from the side of the building, the rain cleaning off its messy face. Its nose had been chewed off and part of its scalp was torn, hanging like a bad toupée blown off by the wind. It didn't seem to notice me; perhaps the rain obscured our smell. Instead, it started to head towards one of the guards who had their back turned.
I ran to the infected and shoved it from behind. It flew to the pavement face first and I wasted no time in bashing its head in. The guard turned to me, alerted by the commotion and nodded at me when he saw the infected on the ground. I recognized him as the chef from yesterday. He looked like a different person out here with a rifle in hand instead of a serving tong.
I didn't have to worry about cleaning off the bat; the increasing downpour was doing that for me. It was like a veil had formed, obscuring the encroaching infected. Outlines became blurred and were more like dark shadows approaching in the night.
"Are you all that can fight?" I yelled over the rainstorm.
"Pretty much, unless you want to hand the old ladies an automatic rifle," he held up his gun for emphasis.
That episode of South Park where the AARP takes over flashed through my head and I was helpless not to laugh. Instead of looking at me like I was insane, the chef smiled.
"What about the others from the roadblock?"
"We tried radioing them, but the storm threw out our walkies." He squeezed the gun and a loud burst of bullets shot into the nearest bunch, taking only one down.
"Wouldn't they hear the gunfire?" I yelled.
"In this rain? Unlikely." More bursts of bullets.
"You're not doing any good with that," I said.
He narrowed his eyes, so I amended by words, "What I mean is that from here we can't do much in the aiming department. Not to mention the visibility is shit."
"Well, then what do you suggest?" sarcasm laced his voice.
"Grab a melee weapon," I showed him the bat, as if he had no idea what melee meant.
"But then we have to get closer!"
"That's kind of the point. They're hard to miss when they're right in front of you," I pointed out.
"That's how you get yourself bitten, miss."
We were wasting time just standing around, so I decided to make a run for Roy who was our lone front line infantry. I started to yell his name as I approached. When I got close enough, he jumped and turned. I ducked just in case he didn't let go of the trigger.
"Never sneak up on someone with a gun!" he sounded furious.
"I was yelling your name!" I was quite offended he thought I was that stupid. "I guess you didn't hear me."
His face fell, "I think we're screwed. Maybe we should go inside and hold the fort from there."
"That would be fine if there was only a few of them, but I don't think that old apartment building could take a horde of them banging and trying to get inside." The building was in no shape, with all the siding beginning to rot and fall away.
The chef had finally joined us at the front line and so did the other guard I recognized as the doorman.
"So what's the plan?" he looked at me. I noticed that he had gained a crowbar.
"We go Babe Ruth on their asses," I hefted the bat up.
"I don't think we should get too close. I've seen what those things are capable off," Roy pointed out.
"Well, no offense," I started, not having the time to sugarcoat my words. "But you guys aren't doing very well with those guns. You're just wasting bullets."
Roy grinned, "Never said I was handy with them. Now give me a hammer and you will be able to see what I can do."
"Would the butt of your gun work?" I asked.
"It'll have to."
So we descended on the nearest infected like we had a grudge, slashing the tires of an ex-boyfriend's car, style. Roy used the butt of his rifle to bash in heads and the chef used his crow bar to whack the infected down and then the narrow end to stab the head.
I swung at one and I hit a solid part of the skull. My arms vibrated with the impact, almost causing me to drop the bat. The thing stumbled backwards, but didn't fall. With a growl, he turned back, allowing me to see my handiwork. The corner of his skull was now caved in; making his head look like someone had taken the first slice of a cake.
As I wound up for another hit, the chef bounded towards the infected and shoved the sharp end of the crowbar into the back of the infected's head, dropping him as fast as the rain was falling.
I said my thanks. I had almost forgotten what it was like to have someone watching your back. After ten minutes, our enthusiasm started to wane. We had run so far that the building was now completely obscured by the sheet of rain. Fallen bodies were all over the street but more were still approaching in the distance.
"I don't know how long we can keep this up," huffed the chef.
My shoulders shook with the deep breaths I was taking, inhaling rain drops with each lungful. My hair was matted to my face and I had to wipe it out of my eyes. The rain was making it hard to hold onto the weapon, my grip continually slipping.
"We made a better dent than you did with the guns," I pointed out.
"But now-"
The doorman's words were cut off as the sound of rapid gunfire erupted in the distance and the roar of an engine drifted our way. The large Avalanche came into view, screeching to a halt a few car lengths from us. Tim, one of the guards from the interstate entrance welcoming committee, was sticking out of the window with his large automatic weapon propped on the roof.
"Oh look, skinny Rambo's here," the chef muttered, sounding like a case of sour grapes.