The Dark Trilogy (62 page)

“MEGAN, God dammit! Please!”

It wasn’t Jason speaking. He was already gawking at the sea of bodies milling around them. Megan didn’t want to do the same, but she forced her eyes to stay open.

All her nightmares were arrayed before her; it was like a single organism made up of everyone who had ever been consumed by the super-virus. Appendages swayed and flapped like tentacles writhing on some dark beast out of the abyss, hypnotically gesturing for Megan to join them in their agony. It tasted the air, seeking out warm flesh. It would not just consume her and the children—it would absorb them so they could become one with it. Her chest shuddered as she took the graveyard air into her lungs and looked out at the monstrous legion arrayed against them. The shock to her system came not only from the infected in front of her, though it was obliterating in its potency, but from realizing that while they flowed and rippled all around her, their animosity and their ferocity were directed not just at her, but in several different directions.

“Ben?”

Megan did not hear the tentative word that spilled from Jason’s lips, but watched in amazement as the behemoth of a man burst through a tightly knit crowd of ghouls nearby. They were debris before him, dried-out autumn leaves that crunched and crumbled as he bellowed in rage and slapped them out of the way. His voice overwhelmed all the keening and crying that surrounded him.

It dawned on Megan that his voice was the noise she had heard before—the roar she believed was the sound of the mob closing in on them. It was, in fact, the angry bellow of the man currently barreling into three persistent attackers. As they fell to the ground, Ben stomped on the revenants, using his mass to crush their skulls beneath his giant boot heel.

“MEGAN!”

Her head whipped around as she heard her name once again. Megan felt dizzy and feared it was just her mind playing tricks, as it had to be with Ben. Then she saw something: a shape gliding quickly through the crowd. Her eyes darted back and forth, trying to catch another glimpse as she clung to the children.

“Megan, over here!”

Megan’s world froze as her eyes found the spot from which the voice came. A clash of emotions, of agony and euphoria, spilled over her as she saw a face above the crowd, somehow floating above everyone else. It was a face she knew well.

It was Jeff.

Time snapped back into place as Jason grabbed her by the arm and spun her around. “It’s Ben! It’s Ben!” He was trying to straighten out his lame arm and point as he hopped up and down. Megan nodded, but she did not turn, fearful that Jeff would dissolve, reveal himself as a figment of her imagination if she broke eye contact with him.

Jason was confused by how unimpressed Megan was at the startling news. But as he followed her eyes, his knees nearly gave out. Instead, he pumped his fist and whooped in delight.

His excitement convinced Megan that Jeff was no mirage. He was still there, standing on top of a station wagon, swinging a long metal pole above his head and trying to get her attention. He was above the crowd, across the street. Megan waved as Jason continued to holler in celebration. The cheer was cut off as they saw the metal pole come crashing down on a woman’s head. She had been trying to crawl on top of the Taurus to get at Jeff, but now slumped back to the ground.

Megan kept her eyes focused on Jeff while Jason looked back and forth between the two men. A cold revelation gripped her: their friends were trying to save her and the children, but were committing suicide to do so. The station wagon on which Jeff stood would be completely surrounded soon. She moved away from the safety of the donut shop toward him, letting go of the small hands wrapped in her own without even realizing it, until Jason grabbed her arm, pulling her back. Megan glared in anger at him until she saw the look of fear on his face. She looked down at the children and realized what she had been about to do.

They stood and watched, helpless, as the two madmen kept the crowd’s attention. Ben picked up a police officer and raised him, squirming, over his head. He had the ghoul by the throat and crotch, and the giant was not straining a bit as he launched the cop, flailing limbs and all, into a group of five incoming stiffs that had made the mistake of being clumped too close together. Still, more of the squirming forms in the street were coming for Ben.

The same could be said for Jeff, who jumped off the car and ran screaming like a wild man as a wake of corrupt bodies followed. He shifted gears and turned sharply to avoid another group, swinging his oversized weapon at a man wearing the remains of a three-piece suit. The blow was only glancing, flattening the businessman’s partially detached ear, but it was enough to allow Jeff to get by. He ran, sliding through clusters of agitated bodies reaching out for him.

Megan grimaced as she saw that there were still small pockets of rotters not taking the bait and ignoring the two men. Some were starting to notice the quiet group huddled against the wall again.

“They’re still coming for us.”

Jason forced his eyes away from Ben and tracked the rest of the crowd. At least a couple dozen ghouls would be on top of them in less than a minute if they didn’t get moving soon.

As he continued to stare at the crowd, Megan felt the tug of a small hand on her arm. She didn’t want to look away from the hypnotic advance of bodies; she tried to ignore the sensation, but it was persistent. She looked down to see Sadie’s big round eyes staring up at her.

“Is Ben going to save us?”

Megan’s heart was already shattered into a hundred pieces, but the desperate plea crushed her even more. Sadie tried waving at Ben, but it came as no surprise that the man did not see her. Nathan and Joey were catatonic with fear while the little girl seemed very aware of what was happening.

Jason heard the question and turned to Megan, who could feel the weight of both sets of eyes waiting for her answer. She opened her mouth, trying to force something out, but she could find no words. Taking a shuddering breath, Megan tried to see where Jeff had gone, but she couldn’t spot him.

“Megan, Jason! This way!”

Megan wanted to scream in surprise at the new voice coming from her left, near Ben, but she had nothing remaining inside that would allow her to do so. Almost as if she had no will of her own, she turned in the direction of the voice.

It was George. Of course it was George. Jason was already moving toward the man, dragging Nathan, who followed like a robot. The boy moved his feet, but his stunned face showed no reaction to the potential rescue. George was at the corner of the building, in the gap between the donut and curio shops, waving them forward. Ben had moved the crowd far enough away from the strip of asphalt between the two buildings that the little group of survivors could squirm through.

Megan felt nauseated as she moved, grabbing Joey and Sadie’s hands and pulling them beside her at a half run. She understood now: Ben and Jeff were the bait so George could get them out of there. Her eyes remained focused on him as her heart flooded with guilt at the thought of the other two men’s sacrifice.

George was drenched with sweat, and his shirt was ripped, but he looked okay. He was toting another large piece of wood. It looked cracked and abused, ready to shatter, but menacing all the same.

Jason crashed into George, hugging him with his good arm. The big man’s expression changed to relief as he returned the affectionate embrace. There was a smile on his face as he looked past the boy to Megan. For a moment, the smile faltered as the two adults shared a brief, sad moment.

They both understood. As Megan came trotting up, there was no need for words. Whatever regrets either of them had needed to be put aside. They could pray for the survival of the other two men later. For now, all they could concern themselves with was making their escape from this deathtrap.

They moved around the corner toward the rear of the shop. They were only a few seconds ahead of the advancing horde.

Chapter 18

The small group of survivors disappeared from view. Several of the rigor-riddled forms that had been advancing toward them when they were stationary immediately lost interest and shifted their attention to Ben, who was not too far away and didn’t seem interested in fleeing. His scent was far too tantalizing to resist.

Most of the revenants broke off their pursuit of Megan and the others, but a few continued moving toward the gap between the buildings. The one leading the way was not as stiff limbed, though she was just as maimed as the others. Her wounds were fresh. A spray of blood from the shredded muscles in her legs, arms, and face served as a bright decoration on her torn clothing.

The gray-haired woman tried to moan through a broken and dangling jaw. A bubbling hiss was all that came up from her throat, but it was enough to attract several other ghouls nearby. She had the scent of the children on her. It was a rich, sweet aroma that excited them as they followed her between the buildings toward their prey.

Chapter 19

Jeff took a frantic swing at a stiff-necked farmer standing in front of him. Solitary ghouls that interrupted his movements were becoming less the norm. The pole sent its vibrating message of agony down his arms as it connected solidly with the left side of the man’s head and sent him staggering. It gave Jeff the moment he needed to slide past.

The gaps in the crowd were shrinking. Everywhere there were islands of moving shapes. Two or three clumped together, forcing him to barrel through them with the hope that his diminishing speed and power would prove sufficient to force his way to the next vacant spot. As he moved, so did the crowd, contorting and twisting to block his progress.

***

He was still trying to figure out how he had gotten here. When Ben found him and George, pulling them out of the sticky mess they had gotten themselves into near the cracked-up Mercedes, there had been little time for greetings. Ben had breathlessly told them that he thought he knew where the others were, and they were off and running.

They were amazed as he took them on a twisting route that avoided nearly all of the lumps of infected bodies. He picked his way around the town, slipping into various buildings and popping out onto other streets that were clear of traffic. All the while, the noise grew greater as they got closer to where their guide thought Megan and the children might be. Ben knew the town like the back of his hand and had been trying to track everyone’s movements almost since the moment he had left the RV. He confirmed that Frank was dead and was able to guess Michael’s fate as well. When they asked about Cindy, he had no answers, which made them move even faster.

When they finally spotted the others, it was already too late for Lydia. The three men watched from their hiding place across the street, shell shocked, as a crowd of undead tore her to pieces.

There was no time to mourn her death when they saw the rest of the group standing against the wall of the donut shop. Ben made the quick decision that George would guide Megan and the children to safety while he and Jeff would lure the mob away from them.

When George tried to protest, Ben bluntly stated, “You have a family out there. If you ever want to see them again, I suggest you shut the fuck up and do as I say.”

That ended the argument before it even began.

Jeff remembered clasping hands with George moments later as he prepared to exit the building behind Ben, who had torn across the street, whooping and hollering like a lunatic.

“Take good care of them, okay?”

Before George could respond to the request, Jeff turned, rushing out of the building in Ben’s wake. The metal post he was carrying whistled through the air and came down on the skull of the first ghoul he came across.

***

Jeff glanced around, his head on a pivot. Distant doorways beckoned. They teased and tempted him, but might as well have been a thousand miles away for all the hazardous terrain he would have to cross to get to them. A sudden wave of panic came and went as he lost sight of George and the others. Fighting to remain focused on his own problems, Jeff hoped that the little group had escaped the mess surrounding him and Ben as he dodged another grasping hand.

Something grazed his back, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. The claw that nearly scratched him snagged on the drenched material, ripping it. The burst of speed occasioned by the close call had the desperate survivor huffing as he moved down the road. He faked left and then squirmed between two crashed cars in the middle of the street, leaving a couple of stiffs wrestling with one another to be the first through the narrow gap.

Jeff stopped abruptly as he was greeted by a wall of ghouls on the other side of the cars. He resisted the temptation to jump on top of one of the cars as they closed on his position in a rough semicircle. The population on the street was reaching critical mass. If he climbed up on a car now, he would be surrounded in seconds.

He backed up involuntarily as the sounds of excited hunters closed from all directions. He tried to differentiate the sounds in back from those up front, but it was impossible. Noise blasted his eardrums from all directions. Looking behind, he saw three people clawing their way on top of the cars. The narrow gap between the vehicles had several of the sickly figures slicing themselves to ribbons trying to force their way through.

The impulse to jump on to the hood of the Hyundai and kick the riffraff away was tempting. A woman scratching at the edge of the front quarter panel was trying to gain purchase to pull herself up, though her eyes were glued to Jeff. All she could do was waddle and bounce pathetically off the side of the car. There were others behind, pressing up against her. Soon they would be able to get up and over the minor obstacle the cars presented. Turning back was not an option.

Jeff pressed his back up against the car, staring forward. They were coming from all sides; his peripheral vision confirmed that there were no gaps in the first layer of pusbags. As he scanned the crush of bodies in front of him, he let out a hot hiss of air as his shoulders slumped. There was nowhere left to turn, no niche to slip into and escape.