THE KILLER ANGEL: Book Two "Legend" (THE KILLER ANGEL TRILOGY 2) (12 page)

The sturdy little citadel had undoubtedly done well against small packs of the creatures, but this force was unreal, like nothing I had seen since Brick, Ben and I tried to reach Braidwood from due west on the Oregon coast, where a similar mass of the undead nearly ended our adventures.

From where had this frightening army of monsters congealed? They were visibly starved to near death, many as thin as skeletons, and some only able to crawl. But still they came by the hundreds, stretching out along the countryside for over a mile in the near darkness.

In the distance we could see, in mindless rage, horrible rot-eaters break through a wall and drag some poor soul out to an orgy of rabid cannibalism, shredding screaming flesh from a living soul. God it was terrible. Others would follow into the flames, only to fall back with a sharpened stick impaled in their heads or necks.
The pain-filled screams and heart-rending cries from within those walls still haunt me to this day. It was the most horrifying, emotional drama I had yet witnessed, one which I could no longer tolerate.

“How many still inside?” I asked a tattered and beaten old man nearby.

He hesitated. “Hurry!” I demanded.

The man looked around. “It’s so hard to know. We had such a community. Who is still alive? Maybe a few trapped families on the upper floors?”

I checked with Brick, then looked at a middle-aged man with a teenage girl by his side. “I need to leave my friends with you, will that be okay?”

I explained my plan briefly to the man and the teenager, his niece, then I quickly discussed the situation with our small children, whom I had grown to love, in spite of having only known them briefly.

It was a terribly depressing thing to leave my young charges in such a manner, but I had no choice. This new world placed so many unimaginable demands upon all survivors, young and old.

I turned to Ben, “Ben, stay here.” He looked at me with his brilliant, understanding eyes. I would not take him into this suicide. My body and weapons were ready; I would only risk myself.

Brick eyed me with calm strength and courage. “Nicki, there is nothing that you can do. Nothing can be done. They must die. It will happen.” I could see that he was deeply troubled by my actions. “Please do not go there, Nicki. Death is hunting you. Your sacrifice will
be wasted. Please... please come with me to Hedley.”

“I cannot, Brick. I cannot.” I shook sudden, unwelcome tears from my eyes. “Go to my family; tell them everything.
Bonne chance mon cher ami. ”

One of my charges from Whitehorse, a little girl, would not let go of my hand, pleading softly, “Please don’t go in there Nicki, please don’t go...”

“Hey, my little angel,” I smiled and kissed her cheek, “There are kids like you inside who need me. I’ll be okay. You’ll see.”

And with that, I was gone. There was no time to waste. I knew that Brick would see to the welfare of our little band of survivors.

As I moved, another man said to me, “Don’t go there! It’s hopeless!”

I looked at him and only nodded, feeling a calm, sad destiny in my mind.

I guess “hopeless’” is what I do
...

Moving on rapidly, I could feel my strength building - agility, speed, power, fighting ability. My mind cleared, gaining focus, my senses sharpened. Confidence welled up in me. I felt good! Nothing would stop me
...nothing!

I made my way to the water’s edge and waded in up to my waist without hesitation, then began swimming, moving as quickly as I could towards the back side of the island, even though heavily weighed down by my gear. I had to be mindful of the water-bound undead.

I heard something behind me; I whipped around. It was Ben and Brick. I felt sadness at their appearance,
but joy in their faithfulness and companionship. Brick’s warrior spirit had no limits, and his strength doubled our chances. Perhaps it was better this way.

Our wards were now in the care of those who had abandoned the fort. They would be okay as the survivors made their way to Hedley.

Gus had taught Brick to swim, though he was still very poor at it, but his day pack served well for floatation, and seemed to provide the support that he needed.

As we closed in, I watched runners tear off a section of the roof and jump in screaming. I could hear children crying inside and much yelling. There were defenders there in extremis. We had to move fast.

There is nothing like the shock of a runner attack...nothing comes close. Panic. Fear. Hysteria. Madness. Brave men flee, crying, screaming; eyes wide, trampling one another, throwing down weapons. Their minds enter a fog of primitive flight instinct. That shock can become a near permanent condition, tormenting any lucky survivors for the rest of their lives.

I never run. I learned long ago that to run leads to an awful death. Calm control is essential to survival. Determined focus is necessary to beat the demon...all demons. I have the natural gift and the experience. I move to the enemy, identifying targets without a rattled brain. I calculate and execute. My system works perfectly, every time...it must. Failure means death.

I remembered the first time I faced a horde...the
first time I held two guns in my hands with deadly intent...I remembered my fear. It chilled me to the core. I know that fear was visible on my face then; my eyes wide; pores pushing out sweat. I wanted to run, but I would not. I trembled with adrenalin, though no one remained to bear witness. Then - finally - as
they
bore down to shred me, with insane sounds venting from inhuman throats, only then did I become
who I am today
. Time slowed, focus sharpened, the trembling stopped...and fear evaporated.
Nicki Redstone lived
as my body synchronized to the moment, ducking, dodging, left, right - making every one of those 32 crashing bullets count. I vented my anger and my guns delivered just punishment. My mind was methodical, efficient, deadly, precise. Then it was over. Muffled silence; ringing ears...and bloody, steaming, horrifyingly ugly bodies surrounding me. I knew then that I would never fear them again.

I was prepared for the worst
...

Brick, Ben and I exited the water, quickly cleared our weapons, and began knocking down the nearest demons as we ran for the closest flaming opening. I jumped through, yelling, “don’t shoot!” followed immediately by Ben, then Brick.

There was no one standing, only bodies, carnage and hunched over, gorging forms that did not leave their gruesome feast.

Ghastly faces appeared in opening we had just left. Brick fired.

In the smoke, I charged down a hall leading to a
stairwell. Ben and Brick followed, firing his rifle. “Reloading!” He shouted.

I turned and picked up the slack, shooting rapidly and knocking down six more charging monsters as we climbed the stairwell. A short hall at the top with doors. “Open up!” I shouted. We’re here to help! There was pounding, ripping and horrible screeching everywhere. It was an ungodly, unimaginable nightmare - smoke, flames, fearsome noises and hellish heat.

Someone screaming
...

Brick kicked in a door. Nothing.

Rushing, he kicked in a second door, which opened to a hall, at the far end of which were children, all terrified, dirty and smeared with blood and black, tarry runner vomit. My mind reeled with the horrors those children had witnessed that day.

We slammed the door behind us and were able to block it with furniture, at least temporarily. The floor was littered with discarded weapons, empty rifle magazines, shell casings and the detritus of a bloody fight to the death.

I could see several women and a man with bats and hammers smashing at forms attempting to enter the room, burns and cuts evident on all of them. This could not last, between the flames and the runners, it would not end well.

I slid two heavy guns in their direction, “Take these!” I shouted. The women turned in surprise, “Who are you?” One said.

“Nicki Redstone!” Their eyes went wide, questions
and hope clearly in their minds, but I yelled, “Fight!” as gruesome heads appeared and arms clawed their way in, shockingly fast, one runner charging past the women to be met by my bullet.

“We’re getting you out of here.” I said to the kids. “Brick, can you handle this?” He nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

I jumped on a tall dresser and clambered through a hole above, onto the cool shingles of the roof. A gentle breeze contrasted with the heat and smoke from below.

It was very high up, four floors at least. A fall from there would have been certain death. I surveyed the island, which was now completely surrounded by a raging storm of insanely ravenous, berserk creatures, grasping over each other to reach us, their thick, dark blood boiling with starvation.

There must be a way!
I thought, as I searched desperately for something... anything!

There it is!
But time was short, maybe too short. Suddenly, I could see creatures surging into a mangled opening on the back rooms of the building, an access of which the valiant survivors below could not know.

I jumped down back inside and caught the new, screeching onslaught amid screams of fear and horror from the children. As I fired, Brick and Ben charged into the fray and we were able to put down the creatures with the anger and violence that they deserved.

The dead were piling up, and we were expending our own ammunition at an alarming rate. The rooms were filling with smoke. The sharp smell of gunpowder
mixed with runner stench choked the air. My ears were ringing and muffled. In spite of the cold outside, dirt and sweat drizzled from my hairline to my neck.

“Gather up rope, sheets and anything you have to make a way out.” I yelled.

“We’re surrounded; there’s no way out!.” A muscular man cried out.

“There’s a way out; just do it!” I answered.

They worked fast, making a long, sturdy, heavily knotted length. During a lull in the onslaught I had them anchor the line near a rear window, on the back of the fortress home, facing a thin strip of earth next to the waterline.

“You will have a few minutes of distraction. Move fast when I signal. Brick, you must help them! Please! See that Ben gets out too!” I said as Brick hesitated, then I turned away. He would follow me if he could. It was difficult for him, I know; but the families needed his strength. My task required speed and fighting skill. Ben would be of no assistance, not this time.

“I will follow you! Stand by!” I yelled back.

I moved quickly then, and jumped with renewed energy onto a window sill to view the rapidly approaching crescendo of this horrible, sickening nightmare. A seething mass was surging past the recent carnage, having slowed only briefly to tear at each other and gorge themselves on the remains of the recently living. It was a horrifyingly disgusting sight.

I clambered back up to the roof, gaining unobstructed visibility. There were runners on all sides,
and roaring flames burning nearly everywhere. The heat and stench was overpowering as I looked through the smoke again for my target, a very large tank piped to the house that I recognized from my childhood as a kerosene storage container. I had reasoned that it would be kept amply supplied by this comparatively large community. I could only hope to be right.

I yelled down to Brick to get everyone out; he moved immediately. Ben looked up at me, his harness and snap link in position. “Ben - go!” He hesitated and then departed.

I aimed and fired into the lower part of the container, puncturing it, and was rewarded with a forceful stream of liquid. I fired again and again, as pools of the clear kerosene expanded around the tank and rolled towards the house and bridge. It only took a moment before flames gathered on the surface and spread, burning the runners in its path.

They were not slowed, nor did I expect such, but I prayed for distraction as the massive container burned uncontrollably.

Finally, success! I smiled. The giant tank detonated with the force of a massive, excruciating, flaming wartime bomb, like something I had only seen in videos, nearly knocking me from my perch.

The runners went berserk, many of them completely engulfed in flames, others running in all directions, distracted by the massive explosion and fireball. Those at the back and sides of the fortress ran to the front in their voracious search for blood, giving
precious minutes for escape.

From my perch, I could make out little forms swimming away from the inferno, I was sure I could make out Ben’s furry back and head.

Suddenly, grimy hands grabbed my leg and before I could react I was dragged off my feet, tumbling to the floor below, bashing my head on the way down.

I awoke seconds later with pain at the back of my head and feeling agony in my shoulder - brought on by the crushing, broken teeth of a stringy-haired, Amazonian monster tearing into me, with only my leather stopping a fatal bite. Even so, the pain was excruciating.

The creature, almost twice my size, straddled me, unknowingly binding my arms to the floor. I yelled out, “Damn you!” as a stinking, dark liquid mass flowed from its mouth, gagging me with an overpowering, noxious odor.

Then, executing a move that I had practiced a thousand times, with my left foot, I shoved out the blade stored unsheathed and point down on the side of my right calf, flexed up and pushed it fully to the hilt under the chin and through the skull of my aggressor. She slumped onto me, unmoving. I pushed her off with a groan, released the blade, and moved for the window, retching as I stumbled through smoke and blaze.

I would make it!

At that exact moment, more creatures charged through different openings, at least a dozen burning, hellish demons raced straight for me. In a millisecond I
was surrounded by the monsters. Strangely, they slowed, then paused to rise up like Satan’s demons, straight from hell - almost, I imagined, to push fear into me, and to feed upon it before the end.

Not gonna happen you creeps...!

Ah yes, I had seen this before, but only in a performance by individual runners who had cornered some helpless prey; never by a pack of them, never in apparent unison. It did not matter; I knew well their ‘moves’ and I would take full advantage.