I tensed, tapping Warner and jerking my head sideways. My voice was barely audible. "Infected on your eight."
Slowly, Warner turned to look, careful not to make any sudden movements or excess noise. Our sanctioned and unpublished research showed that the infected were docile until agitated. Something about noise and speed just pissed them off.
The infected stared right at me, its brown eyes surrounded by yellow and ringed with black circles. Haunting and ghastly. Half of its cheek was missing, torn out and bloody. The white of his jaw peeked out through the battlefield of scarlet rivers. What unnerved me most was the human arm clutched in his mottled hands, one that didn't belong to him.
"What do we do?" Warner mouthed, trying to come up with some sort of solution. "Put a bullet in his brain?"
My hand drifted to my gun, but that wasn't the best decision. The sound from the kickback might just attract more infected. I didn't think that this old truck could make it through a horde.
Warner pointed to the button that moved the windows. I shook my head, but Warner was so close to hitting it. I reached out with my good arm, trying to pull him back. Warner flailed, bumping into the wheel and setting off the horn.
The infected lost its mind. Snarling and jaws snapping, the infected prowled at the doors. Red streaks of coagulated blood coated the window at my side. "Warner, we need to get out of here. Now."
"No shit," he grumbled back, starting the ignition. "I'm working on it." He pulled away from the infected, but it held fast to the bed of the truck. Warner jerked the wheel, sending the infected barreling into the curb.
Slowly, it clawed its way to its knees, leaving smears on blood along the pavement. We were too far for it to catch us now. Despite their seeming inability to feel pain, normal human limits still applied to them. They could never outrun a car, especially not one winding down narrow streets at breakneck speeds.
"Watch out for the other cars," I shouted, bracing myself as Warner turned sharply. He clipped another car, sending the tail end of the truck spinning wide. "Jesus, Warner. This isn't bumper cars." As he righted the car, a wave of dizziness hit me like a brick. I was losing too much blood.
"I think we lost them." Warner glanced in the rearview. Shifting in my seat, I groaned. "Shit, dude. You bled through your bandaids. This is a problem."
I leaned my head against the headrest, savoring the warmth running down my shoulder. I was so cold. My eyes drifted shut, but I forced them to stay open. "We need a hospital. This is getting worse by the minute." A red stain now covered my entire sleeve and half my chest. The pain lessened, but everything else worsened. My vision lacked its normal clarity, my ears picking up a faint ringing. With a start, I realized that it was Warner talking.
"Falls, come on. We're almost there." He grit his teeth and smashed our front bumper into a green blur. "Shit, it's too crowded." He looked at me pleadingly. "This is gonna hurt like a bitch, but we need to walk the rest of the way. The closer we get to the city, the more cars there are. It's like people just abandoned them in the middle of the streets."
I didn't care. What difference did it make if it was the street or the curb or in their driveways. What mattered was that they were abandoned and the city was wrecked.
"You gotta walk, Falls. Can you do that?" Warner's voice was stronger now, his face clearer.
"Yeah," I ground out, gritting my teeth as I swung open the door. "I got this."
I jumped out, my knees caving as I hit the pavement. My shoulder screamed when it hit the pavement, waves of balck coastung my vision.
"Why the f--" Warner bit down on his insult as he scrambled out of the driver's seat and helped me to my feet. "You are such a dumbass."
"I'm fine," I insisted when my feet were steady under my body. "I can do this." I took a few steps, my legs shaking, but mobile. "I've got this."
Warner wanted to argue, but he didn't have a choice. Armies of infected were clustered on the corners, eyes wide and unseeing. He froze, calculating our odds. We locked eyes, our joint conclusion that they weren't good.
Swearing quietly, but with much vulgarity, Warner hopped into the bed of the truck. He emerged brandishing a variety of guns. Quickly, we armed ourselves, strapping guns to our belts and various other holsters along our bodies.
I tested my bad shoulder, getting waves of pain in response. Reloading was out of the question. Shooting with only my right arm seemed to be my only option. Wordlessly, Warner took the gun from me and cocked it, a satisfying click in the echoing silence.
"This is going to be a disaster," Warner grumbled. He loaded up one last magazine, tossing a mournful glance in the direction of our truck. "We're going to have to leave most of our stuff behind. There's no way we can fight these puppies with all of our shit strapped to our backs."
"Whatever. Our stuff's secondary to survival. We need to get the hell out of here and fast." I didn't think that I could do fast at the moment, but I would take what I could get.
Warner's face told me that he thought the same. His frown deepened. "We have to follow the signs." He pointed to the big white H on a blue sign at the end of the street corner. "We can't be too far."
But it was far enough. I could feel my strength sapping. The distance was one obstacle. I didn't even want to think about our other. The infected hadn't noticed us yet, our hushed voices not carrying far in the breezy afternoon wind.
I took a staggering step forward, my steps almost identical to the infected. "Come on, let's get this over with."
We started off at a solid pace, slow for our usual runs, but terribly fast for me. I stumbled, catching myself on an abandoned blue car with a fervent clatter. The infected rushed forward with alacrity.
"Shit," Warner mumbled, grabbing his gun and taking aim. With shaking hands, my shoulders bordering Warner's, I did the same. "You know the drill. Headshots. Take them all out."
"We don't need to take them all out. Just enough to get past them. We gotta keep moving." I fired, sending a bullet straight into the center of an infected's forehead. My second shot went high and wide. I grumbled, cursing my stupid shoulder and lack of stabilization.
Warner was faring better. He landed shot after shot, but it didn't seem to make a dent in the crowd. The wave of infected continued forward, a sea of impending doom, unhindered by the sailing bullets.
"We gotta go now," Warner yelled over the gunfire. My ears rang from the shots. "The sound is just going to draw more of them. We gotta move faster."
I grunted in response, firing off two more shots. Two hits. Matted blood coated the hair of the infected, the bullet painting on a new coat of red. The streets were littered with bodies, but more swarmed us.
We took off as fast as I could go. My heart pounded and I felt like dying. I could just collapse on the ground and never get up again. Fresh blood soaked my shoulder, the exertion just pumping more blood out of my body.
My gun clicked empty, the sound louder than any gunfire. The gun clattered to the pavement as I dropped it, my arms too weak to reload. I yanked my other gun from my side holster, my shoulder screaming in protest as I made my left hand help me cock the gun.
We made it to the street corner, the opposite side of the intersection remained the stronghold of the infected.
They just kept coming. I clipped a few infected, but they never stopped. They didn't seem to feel pain. They were robotic. Moving parts with no consciousness.
The hospital loomed in the distance, maybe a block or two away. So close, yet miles away. A taste of freedom in the wake of destruction.
Warner cast me an appraising look. "How much longer can you hold on?" He fired another shot, but it nailed the infected in the torso, not the head. "Be honest," he panted. "I'm flagging, too."
A grim twist to my lips. "Not long enough."
A tug on my bad shoulder sent me sprawling to the ground. I rolled, coming face-to-face with an infected. Its eyes, glazed and yellow, stared into my soul. Blood dripped from its arm onto my chest, its blood mingling with my own. For a second, it was a staring contest. Silent and unbreakable.
The infected topping forward, clawing and biting, looking for anyway to get to me. I slammed the butt of my gun into the side of its temple, the bone collapsing under the pressure. The infected rolled back from the force of my blow, but returned with even more vigor. It grabbed my bad shoulder, its knubby, bloody fingers digging into the fabric around my wound. I screamed, drawing Warner's attention.
"Luke," he called out helplessly. His momentary lapse in focus cost him. I tried to call out my own warning but my tongue was lead in my mouth. He was surrounded and went down like a rock.
I struggled, my vision blurry. I got the gun up to the infected's forehead and I fired at close range. Brain bits exploded through the air, littering the street with red chunks. A warm stickiness ran down my face, permeating my whole body. It was just blood, I reminded myself as I heaved the dead infected off of me.
I rolled onto my stomach, groaning. Taking aim at the cluster of infected surrounding Warner, I swore. There was no clear shot. More were coming at me.
My boots slipped on the wet pavement. I couldn't get the traction to get to my feet. I was going to die. But I was going to go out fighting. I fired two more shots until there were too many. Surrounded by people, but utterly alone.
They dropped like flies. Shot after shot rang through the air. Not just mine, but Warner's too. I dragged myself away from the corpses, pulling myself towards Warner. I had to help him. "Behind you," I croaked out, weakly pointing to the infected creeping up on Warner.
Its head blew off in a shower of blood. In the red mist, the outline of a figure clutching a handgun appeared. Two someones. One much taller than the other.
Warner fired off another shot, ending the last infected on this street. "We got a break for now, but more are sure as hell coming. We probably signaled every single one in the city that we're here."
"He's hurt," a soft voice said, the smaller figure running up to me. Elizabeth. Her blonde hair was sprayed with blood, her blue eyes blazing like the hottest fire. "Luke, can you hear me?" I tried to nod, to say anything, but I felt frozen, trapped. "He's unresponsive. We need to get him to that hospital now."
"Whatever you say, princess." Warner said, holstering his gun. "Ian and I'll carry him, you gotta watch our backs."
Her eyes were sharp and critical, jumping from me to Warner. "Always. Let's get him up." She turned her attention back to me, pulling off her jacket. She tied it tightly around my shoulder, eliciting a groan. "I'm sorry, Luke. But I need to stop the blood loss." She yanked it even tighter.
Two faces swam in my vision. Hands hoisted me up, balancing my weight between theirs. My boots scraped the pavement as I tried to walk, to help in what little way that I could.
"I'm right behind you guys. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but more infected are coming up quickly." Elizabeth's gun made a subtle click, the switch of the safety. Her breath shook, but her hands stayed steady. A rock in a wild storm.
After what seemed like hours of agony, we made it to the hospital relatively unscathed. The real problem was getting in. The guys set me down, giving themselves more freedom to scope out an entrance.
Warner pounded on thick glass. "The doors are barricaded." He tried hitting it with the butt of his gun, attempting to shatter it, but it held fast. "I'll give it another shot, but this isn't an option." He glanced back at the infected maybe a block or two away.
Elizabeth knelt by my side. "Hey, how are we?"
Letting me rest on the pavement gave me some energy, so I mustered up a smile. "All good. Don't worry about me. Let's figure out a way to get in."
She wasn't convinced, but gave me a gentle pat on my good shoulder. "I need to check your wound soon, but I'm hoping we can do it inside." Her eyes lit up. "Check the ER bay," she said to Warner and Ian. "You know, where the ambulances bring in traumas."
Ian ran over. "Where?" he asked breathlessly.
Elizabeth stood up, her eyes scanning. She pointed to a big blue sign. "It's around the corner. One of you has to go ahead and make sure that we can get in. We'll follow once you give the all clear. Does Warner still have his radio?"
Warner hit the glass one last time, not a crack in sight. "No," he said grimly. "We had to leave all of our stuff behind. Everything from food to ammo." He shook his head. "Ian, just go and be smart. Elizabeth and I will be right behind you, but we can't afford to wait." An anxious glance at me. More like I couldn't afford to wait.
Ian took off, his backpack bouncing slightly as he ran. The kid seemed to have endless energy sometimes. Running ahead shouldn't cause him any trouble. I still worried for the kid. He hadn't seen any battle and instinct only goes so far.
"Let's get him up," Elizabeth said to Warner, adjusting her messy ponytail. She maneuvered over to my bad shoulder, Warner taking my right. "On my count." She gently moved my arm over her shoulder, murmuring apologies and encouragement as she stressed my wound. "One, two, up."
They moved in sync, flowing in harmony. Moving was agony, but my suffering was necessary. We had to move. And quickly.
We hurried around the corner, the world blurring between crisp buildings and waves of darkness. With the city lights gone and the ruins of destruction left in its wake, I think I preferred the darkness. Anything to block out the reality of how far gone we were. I didn't think that there was any way back from this.
Ian met us when we had barely turned the street corner, the wave of infected now out of sight. He had a triumphant smile on his face. "I broke the glass. We're in."
Warner tensed slightly. "You broke the glass?" he repeated. Sibling rivalry.
Elizabeth picked up on the slight tension. "Knock it off, we have bigger problems. Did you get into the ER itself? There are multiple sets of doors in most hospitals."
Ian shook his head. "I didn't want to go in by myself. For all we know, the ER is full of infected."
"Shit," Warner said. "We gotta keep moving though. There's the chance that it's empty, too."
"I don't care if it's full of infected and we can't stay in there." Elizabeth readjusted my arm. Her breaths heavy as she kept pulling me along. "We need medical supplies."
The outer doors to the ER bay were shattered, glass shimmering in the late afternoon glow. It crunched under our shoes, the sole noise in the huge compound.
Warner looked at Elizabeth. "Can you hold him yourself?"
Her face was determined. She wasn't going to say no, even if I knew her strength was flagging. I felt her breaths as sharply as I did my own. Felt her heartbeat echoing my own. She grit her teeth, swallowing her pride. "No. Help me get him on the bench."
A few benches lay scattered like shells washed up on shore outside of the ER entrance. Their arrangement seemed random to me, but Elizabeth seemed to know exactly where to go. They set me down gently, the metal cool on my back.
Ian and Warner set off, their backs close and guns raised. Scouting.
Elizabeth pushed me down so that I was laying flat on the bench. She peeled back her jacket from my wound, the blue fabric stained black with blood. Her face was stoic, but I could see it in her eyes. I wasn't doing well. I let my eyes drift shut.
"Hey," she said, gently shaking me. "Keep your eyes open. Look at me." My eyes focused on her pretty blue ones. I never noticed the rim of green along the outer edge of her iris. I guess I hadn't been paying attention. She smiled, the crinkle of her eyes obscuring the green. "There we go. Tell me something. Anything."
"Anything is too open ended," I said as I struggled to come up with something to tell her. "I need something a little more specific."
She pursed her lips, her eyebrows knitting together in thought. "Tell me a story. One about you."
"Still too much freedom." She laughed and I felt the shake of her body where it was pressed close to mine. "But I have one."
"All good, let's go." Warner came jogging out of the entrance to the ER, sweat beading on the sides of his face. Ian remained in the entrance, hand on his gun. "It's not pretty, but we found a part that's empty."
That didn't sit well, but Elizabeth beat me to my question. "A part?" She shook her head. "Nevermind, it doesn't matter. I'll take whatever I can get."
She hopped up from the end of the bench and gently braced my shoulder to help me sit up. Her retying of the makeshift tourniquet made me double over in pain, but I pushed myself to my feet.
Elizabeth and Warner caught me as I staggered forward, half dragging and half carrying me into the ER.
I hadn't been to a hospital in years, but I didn't expect it to look like this. Beds were scattered through the large room, half ripped curtains dangling from a labyrinth of metal rods on the ceiling. Medicine carts lay sprawled open on the floor, spilling out shattered vials and various pills.
What shocked me the most was the blood. It covered the walls like a new coat of paint, a morbid mosaic of congealed blood, brain matter, and body parts.
Elizabeth's gasp was soft in my ear. "Oh my God. What happened here?" Her voice was softer than the sound of our panting breaths, almost obscured in the wake of our journey.
"I don't know. I'm sure I want to," Ian said, a horrified expression on his face. "We found a room that's untouched. Figured it'd be the best place."
A black sign labeled a wooden door Trauma One. Ian took over from Elizabeth and she flurried into action.
"Get him on the table." She rummaged through a variety of drawers, pulling out packages and tubes of god knows what.
"Ready?" Warner asked, more of a warning than an actual question. I nodded. "One, two, three."
I pushed myself up, Ian and Warner helping me along. This wave of agony was too strong, the dizziness too much. I flopped back on the table, let my eyes drift shut until I felt nothing at all.