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Authors: Tim Sullivan

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The Parasite War (9 page)

BOOK: The Parasite War
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Alex tried to touch her again, and again she pulled away from him.

"Have you forgotten all the things we talked about yesterday?" he said sharply. "The future of the human race, and all that?"

"Listen to yourself," Jo said. "You sound like a megalomaniac. The savior of mankind."

"It does sound kind of stupid when you put it that way," he said. "But we've come this far. We have a group of people working together, and they're ready to fight."

"What kind of group? We've been listening to the ravings of a woman who, in one of her more lucid moments, admits to being a schizophrenic."

"She admits to having been diagnosed as a schizophrenic at one time. That doesn't mean that we should dismiss everything she says. She's very well educated."

"Right." Jo emphatically rolled onto her side, facing away from Alex.

"Well, whether you're with us or not, I intend to take that armory away from the colloids," Alex said, anger rising in his voice. "I'm going to teach these people how to fight, just as though they were raw recruits arriving in Baghdad."

"I suggest you remember how that war went."

"Yeah, I haven't forgotten it for one minute. This time, though, it's different."

"Oh, and why is that?"

"Because this time
we're
the Iraqis."

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

They moved out in the morning. The light was still gray, as if they were living in a black and white movie. This effect was heightened by thick fog, which made the world seem grainy and insubstantial. But the wetness that lay heavily on the earth, and the rich odor of dying leaves braced Alex with the knowledge that this was indeed real.

For two weeks, he had been training refugees. The Fairmount Park guerrillas could not afford to wait any longer to attack. Sooner or later, the colloids would contrive to have their infected minions use firearms. Alex only hoped that it would be later. If the contents of the armory were in the hands of the infected, it was all over even before it started. Alex doubted that this was the case, however. After all, it had taken the colloids three years to get to this point. Manipulating brain-damaged, infected bodies just to walk and lunge must have been something of a colloid fine art. Getting them to do something as complex as locking and loading—not to mention hitting a moving target—might prove well nigh impossible.

Alex wasn't banking on impossibility, however.

Jo seemed resentful, unprepared for the military action that they were about to undertake this morning. She hadn't allowed him to make love to her since the argument following Dr. Siegel's admission of schizophrenia. He still didn't understand how their quarrel had come about; it seemed as if they were getting along just fine one moment, and the next it was all-out war. Well, he really hadn't known Jo for very long, when it came right down to it. On the other hand, they had been through so much together that it didn't seem right that she would suddenly turn on him. This struggle was just too important to back away from, and yet he couldn't seem to make her understand that. She wouldn't budge an inch.

This was no time to be thinking about his problems with Jo. They were already approaching the park's edge, along the cracked, weed-infested pavement of the East River Drive.

"Stay in the trees," he said.

They did as he told them, eleven women and eight men carrying the firearms they had found in Victor's stash, against perhaps seventy to one hundred of the infected. At least, that was the approximate number the one time he had seen the horde guarding the armory. God only knew how many there would be today.

During their training sessions, held about a mile from the hideout, Alex had welcomed anyone who had come to them. The shots had frightened the faint hearted, and only those who were ready to come in from the cold found enough courage to approach the clearing where Alex's guerrillas had been shooting at makeshift targets. Few colloids had been sighted since Elvin had returned that night. Perhaps they sensed that these people were not easy prey.

Most of the Spring Garden Street Bridge still stood by the ruined art museum. A car couldn't have driven across, but who had fuel to run a car? It was easy enough to walk, in spite of the twisted girders rising up like a steel flower on the north side of the bridge. The paved walk on the south side was intact. They were sitting ducks up here, but with all this firepower, Alex wasn't particularly worried about coming out into the open. The colloids weren't expecting a mass of people to emerge from the park on a military mission.

The wind slapped at them as they made their way single file across the bridge. They didn't see anything moving, but Alex was still relieved when they got to the other side.

Alex stood and watched his "platoon" file past. He wondered if some of these poor, benighted souls even knew where they were going. He had entrusted the most stable among them with their eleven guns, though even some of these he was none too sure of. Still, when the shooting started, people had a way of surprising you. The most unlikely souls often performed heroically in combat. And his soldiers had been living under combat conditions for over three years, in a very real sense.

Fifteen or twenty minutes passed before they drew up in sight of the armory.

"Some of my buddies used to spend some time in there," Flash said. "The armory was loaded for bear three years ago, which is probably why this is the only few blocks standing in West Philly anymore. Dumb fucks blew the city to bits, trying to stop a virus from spreading."

Alex remembered. His faith in the American military mind had not been restored by the Army's actions during the colloid war. The regular Army had taken the armory out of the National Guard's hands, creating a haven for themselves and killing an ungodly number of civilians with their seemingly random rocket fire.

"Let's do it," Flash said, looking at Alex for the command.

"Keep down," Alex said, just loud enough for all his people to hear. They did as they were instructed, all of them realizing that their lives were at stake. They were depending on Alex to see them through this thing, and he didn't intend to let them down.

"Flash, see if you can get a little closer. See how many are down there."

Flash scrambled off the broken sidewalk, and started moving toward the smashed rowhouses along the way to the armory.

"If you think there's a chance you'll be seen, just come back," Alex said.

Flash nodded, and disappeared behind a crumbling brick wall. They waited in silence for his return. Once, Alex stole a glance at Jo. He sensed that she knew he was looking at her, but she didn't even glance back. He hoped that neither of them died today. He didn't want to leave her like this.

Ten minutes later, Flash was back. He was out of breath, but he managed to say between puffs: "Must be a couple hundred infected down there."

"So their numbers have increased." Were they expecting an attack? Alex thought better of voicing that dark thought.

"What do you think, Alex?" Flash asked.

He wished that he could talk to Jo, ask her advice about this, but she sat like a statue, staring down at the armory.

"Any sign that they've gone inside the building?" he asked Flash.

"Uh, uh." Flash shook his head. "Those big red doors are locked up tight."

Flash referred to the twenty-foot-tall front entrance, twin doors painted a faded blood red, its size designed to accommodate tanks and armored cars. There were other doors, of course, and it was preposterous to assume that the infected had not been able to get inside.

"Well, if we go straight for it," Alex said, "maybe we can kill enough of them to scare off the others."

Flash's expression was doubtful, but he nodded. They had to do something. Things weren't going to get any better if they waited.

"Give the word, boss." Flash smiled at him, and Alex thought that here was a brave man. Maybe Flash wasn't afraid simply because he had lived with death for so long.

"All right," Alex said to the others. "We've got a limited supply of ammunition, so don't just shoot at anything. Make sure you've got a target. It's best to go for the head, because a wound that would shock an uninfected human being might not stop these people. There's another reason, too. They're better off dead, and a gut shot, even if it knocks one off his feet, might not finish him. You're doing him a favor by killing him quick. Remember that."

Elvin stared at him with his usual vacant, hypnoidal expression. "We'll remember," he said slowly and deliberately.

Alex took a long look at the grim faces of his guerrillas. Misfits, society's rejects, drug addicts though they might be, they wanted to strike back for the years of fear and misery the colloids had brought to the earth. They might never get another chance; the rebellion could end right here where it started. They were afraid, but they were still ready to fight. That was the best attitude a soldier could have.

Alex raised his hand, but Flash pointed toward the armory before he could give the signal.

"Look," Flash said.

Alex turned and saw what had caught Flash's attention. One of the big, red doors was opening. The infected milling about 33rd Street turned and stared dumbly as the armory was opened to attack.

"Let's go!" Alex shouted.

They were on their feet and running down the hill, outnumbered at least five to one. The element of surprise, as Alex had anticipated, favored them. The red door was open all the way now, revealing a dark, cavernous room inside. The infected, staring at the armory like the faithful at a shrine, still did not see the guerrillas coming.

A gunshot exploded behind Alex.

Without slowing down, he glanced over his shoulder. Jo was holding her .32, smoke streaming from its barrel. She had stopped running, and fell behind the others.

The guerrillas were only halfway down the hill, but the infected were turning, awareness rippling through their numbers. The gunshot had taken their attention away from the armory door. Still, the infected were not organized. They stood dumbly as the attack force reached them.

Alex was almost on top of the nearest one before he fired. The infected man's head burst open, his body tumbling away upon the shock of impact. Gunfire popped all around Alex, but his people kept their heads and stayed together. Three more infected bodies fell before he could find another target.

The guerrillas broke through into the armory. Alex tried to push the door closed, but found it to be very heavy. Somebody screamed. He saw Elvin being dragged back outside by four or five of the infected, his fingers clawing at them ineffectually.

"Flash!" Alex shouted. "Find a way to shut that door!" And he was on Elvin's attackers, clubbing them with the butt of the Ingram. It was too risky to shoot at such close quarters, but he caught a woman squarely in the temple. She clung tenaciously to Elvin in spite of the blow. Three more well placed jabs had loosened her hold, however, and now several other guerrillas had come to Elvin's assistance. His attackers were beaten to the ground, and then their bloody bodies were shot, gunfire echoing through the huge open room.

The sound of creaking wood caused Alex to look back and see Flash closing the thick, red door. More of the infected were staggering inside before he could shut it, though.

"Faster, Flash!" Alex shouted. "Faster!"

But the weight of the door made it slow going. Alex fired at three advancing infected, and shouted, "Form a line here! Don't let any of them through!"

The guerrillas stood abreast, shooting into the advancing enemy bodies. The faded red paint was spattered with a darker crimson as the door moved slowly, ponderously. Closing it could not have taken more than twenty seconds, but it seemed like hours. The concrete floor was awash with blood, and twitching fingers were crushed as the door finally shut.

The screams of the dying echoed through the armory, and Alex ordered his people to finish them off. The last gunshots were deafening in the enclosed space. The place reeked of cordite and blood.

Doctor Siegel dropped her gun. It clunked onto the floor and she followed, kneeling before them all, staring at the corpses with emotionless eyes.

"This is no time to quit," Alex said. "There might be more of them in here. Somebody opened that door while we were coming down the hill, and it wasn't one of us."

He started back into the shadows, where tanks rested like slumbering dinosaurs. Flash went with him, and Riquelme. It was only then that he realized that Jo was no longer among them.

"Where's Jo?" he cried, suddenly very frightened. "She didn't get left outside, did she?"

"No, man," Flash said. "She made it inside. But she said she was gonna take a look to see if there were any colloids back here."

"You mean she came back here
alone?
"

"Yeah, I was gonna go with her, but you told me to shut the door. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Alex nodded. Why would she do something so stupid? Fifteen minutes ago, she didn't even want to fight, and now she was going on point. It didn't make any sense.

They had worked their way deep into the armory now, and were creeping through the armored cars, when Alex heard something move.

 

CHAPTER TWELVE

Alex crouched next to the armored car. He heard Flash and Riquelme breathing raggedly behind him. Whoever or whatever he had just heard, it was moving closer. A soft sliding sound, just around the front end of the armored car. In another second it would be in sight.

It stopped.

Alex held a palm up, signaling Riquelme and Flash to stay where they were. They would wait until the thing came out where he could see it.

But it didn't show. Sweat made Alex's scalp itch, as he waited for something to happen. Several seconds passed, and no sound came from the front end of the armored car. Carefully, Alex lowered his head to see past its wheels. There were two boots there in the shadows. Should he shoot this person in the foot? It might be the smartest thing to do, under the circumstances.

"Alex," Jo's voice called out. "Where are you?"

BOOK: The Parasite War
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