“I’ll be right behind you guys. Now go before more show up,” I scolded.
I patted Avery on the shoulder and began walking towards the house. Between my girth and lack of anything that might hide my approach, I was perfect fodder for either a bullet or something much more dreadful. I had the gun up and ready. Twenty yards into my mission, I turned and took one more look at my friends. Sam was leading them away, just as I had asked. Not happy but doing it all the same.
I turned back towards my quarry. Some things dawned on me in rapid succession. One, I had no fucking clue what I was doing. Two, I was scared out of my wits. Three, I had just sent my friends off into the unknown, for people who I had never met and who might be dead by the time I got myself into a position to help. Four, I was majorly having second thoughts.
But then there was this weird channel that opened in my mind. All it was playing was the crying baby. Thanks, conscious – screwing me again. I said, “fuck it” and picked up my pace.
I was a mess, yet coherent and rational enough to angle my approach in such a manner I hoped the Grays on the porch wouldn’t see me. The smell part I couldn’t control, so I tried not to worry about it. I was close to the broken-out window. I didn’t want to have my brains blown out, so I kept out of viewing range.
I could clearly see the forms on the porch as I peeked around the corner of the house. Now what, I thought. I had five rounds in the magazine and one in the chamber. I counted seven Grays on the porch. If I were extremely lucky, I thought I could hit three or four of them before I’d have to reload. I only had the one magazine in the rifle, which meant that I’d have to load the rounds individually into the mag. That wouldn’t work. I’d still be trying to reload when they were piled on me doing whatever it is they do.
Shit. The front door exploded. It was decision time. I didn’t have all day to weigh my options. It essentially amounted to run or gun at that point. I chose the latter.
Heavy footfalls pounded against the hard flooring inside. It sounded like at least one of them fell as they fought to get into the house, the floor creaking with every step. One of them bellowed in anger. There were curses and screaming followed by more pounding fists. Whoever was in the back room had barricaded themselves in, but for how long was anybody’s guess. If the front door was any indication, the answer was not long at all.
“Take the baby and go,” I heard a man pleading just inside the room with the broken-out window. A woman told him she wasn’t leaving. “You have to go now. Please,” he repeated.
The door was splintering and would give way soon. Without thinking and breaking the rule about not wanting my brains blown out, I ran to the window, and was about to yell into the house when there was a flash and a deafening blast or maybe blasts. I was disorientated. My left ear felt like it had exploded. I don’t remember how I had ended up on the ground; I just knew that I was. I checked all my parts to make sure they were still there and working properly. I’m not sure how the person had missed, but I was damn happy he or she did. I heard cursing in the room where the blast came from.
I rolled away from the window and managed to get to my feet. From the side of the window frame, I called to the people inside, “Don’t shoot, dammit. I’m trying to help.” Two more shots. A Gray, or at least I thought it was a Gray, wailed. “Go. I’ll hold them back,” came a man’s voice.
“Please let me help you,” I said.
Three rapid shots, followed this time by desperate words. “I only have a couple bullets left. You have to go!”
It sounded like a dresser or something heavy was being pushed across the floor, the sound of scraping wood, picture frames, and other knickknacks falling to the floor could be heard. “Go.”
I heard footsteps from behind me. And sniffing – loud sniffing. I turned only to see a big hulk of a Gray bearing down on me. He was on me before I could react. The next thing I knew I was on the ground, and he was on top of me, pounding the living hell out of me with his fists. I was disoriented from the heavy blows, but I knew I had to do something fast or I was dead. I reached for the rifle that had been knocked out of my hands, but it was out of my reach.
The dark cloak of unconsciousness began to envelope me like a fog, bringing with it an odd relief.
I heard a muffled pop. The smell of death was in the air, but not mine. The veil that had enveloped me with peace had suddenly been ripped away. In its place came the piercing cries of an infant and heavy snowflakes falling on my battered face.
Using every ounce of strength I had left, I managed to push the limp body off of me. I struggled to my feet. I closed and opened my eyes, trying to get them to focus in the low-light conditions. A woman with a swaddled infant in one hand and a pistol in the other stood a couple feet away from me. A pistol that just happened to be pointed directly at me.
It had begun snowing heavily again.
I had my rifle pointed at the woman, but didn’t realize it until I followed her eyes towards it. I lowered it. The woman didn’t immediately return the favor with her pistol. “Thanks for saving me,” I said, nervously, not sure I was saved just yet. Only when there was a loud crash from inside the house did she finally lower her pistol.
The man cursed. The woman paused in indecision. She took a long look back towards the house.
“Don’t do it,” I told her. I labored under the two or three steps between us and grabbed hold of her arm and tried to drag her away from the house, but there was something slippery on her jacket, and I nearly fell on my ass as I lost my grip.
“We have to go,” I implored.
The baby was screaming. We were going to have every Gray in Barrow on us if she couldn’t stop the crying. First thing first, we had to get away from the house. The man was quickly losing the battled, and after they were finished with him, we’d be next.
I grabbed her wrist, which luckily wasn’t slimy like her coat, and pull her away from the window. After a few steps, she arrested her arm from my grip, obviously not trusting me, but nevertheless moved with purpose, never more than just a few steps behind me.
We hurried towards the dilapidated building where I had just moments earlier sent my friends off into the unknown. There was no sign of them. I hoped they were okay, but I had bigger problems. I was getting ready to tell the woman if she didn’t manage to quiet the child we were dead. Before I could utter the first word, the baby had stopped. I mean, she just stopped. No whimpering. Nothing.
The man in the house screamed. He was losing the valiant battle he had been waging, and as soon as the Grays were finished, they would be looking for their next target. A single pop could be heard from the direction of the house. The screaming stopped. I quickened my pace.
Chapter 9
A group of Grays could be heard somewhere off to our right. We huddled behind a garbage dumpster while they sniffed and snorted their way past us. Two of the Grays near the end of the pack splintered off from the rest and got uncomfortably close to the dumpster. They looked disoriented. One spun in circles before falling to the ground. He didn’t get up. I wasn’t sure if he was dead, but he wasn’t moving. The other wondered aimlessly off in another direction.
After watching the befuddling show, I glanced over at the child. Her poor little face was covered in snow. Jesus, I thought, could you not wipe the poor thing off. A street over, there was a business with a small portico that would provide a much-needed respite from the elements, and hopefully allow the woman some time to come to her senses. It would have the added benefit of allowing me to think.