Valkyrie: Rat in the Dumpster (3 page)

Ghouls
, Rat thought.

“The government is warning people to seek shelter indoors.”

A second voice cut in on the radio, “There are other things in addition to the ghouls and demons…”

“We don’t know that they’re demons,” the first voice corrected.

“Fuck off. I saw them in Salt Lake City before we flew out. There were people drinking their victim’s blood. And, there were these huge monsters covered in fur – like werewolves.”

Rat looked up at Carter, “Did he just say werewolves?”

Luis nodded, “And vampires. I swear to God he described vampires.”

“Don’t blaspheme, Luis,” Consuela whispered.

“Sorry, Mama.”

“There’s no such thing as vampires or werewolves,” Carter said as he knelt down by the radio.

“Yeah, well a few hours ago there was no such thing as demons or ghouls,” Rat grumbled.

“It’s hysteria,” Carter said. “That’s all. People are scared.”

The first announcer continued, “The president and vice-president are dead. Air Force One was shot down by an unknown individual as it was coming in for a landing at LAX shortly before noon…”

The second announcer was laughing, “Unknown individual? Seriously? We have it on video – a guy walked onto the runway, drew a circle around himself, mumbled some Latin, and launched a fireball at the plane. A witch killed the president.”

Consuela genuflected, “God rest their souls.”

Rat grabbed Carter’s lapel, “We have to get out of here.”

Rat had found a stairwell backstage that led up to the roof. She stood looking out at the fires burning on the north side of the lake. The fires on their side had died out. The distant flames lit the underside of the grey cloud in shades of amber and crimson.

“It’s dangerous up here,” Carter said as he walked up beside her.

“It’s dangerous down there too,” Rat said. “Werewolves?”

“We haven’t seen anything like that,” Carter said.

“Doesn’t mean they’re not out there. Carter, please, first light let’s get out of here. We’re going to die in this place.”

“So, we’re just supposed to leave everyone behind down there? Katy, Clint, Mrs. Munoz and her kids?”

Rat stared at the skyline, “Clint will make it on his own. The rest of them won’t. Katy’s holding this place because, in the back of her mind, she thinks the cavalry is coming. They’re not. Consuela’s waiting on God. He’s not coming either.”

“Got it all figured out don’t you?”

“I know we’re going to die here.”

“You’re a survivor, Rat. You got that cold detachment. You can look past the blood and the horror and do what needs to be done.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is, you need to make some space in that sociopathic brain of yours for some compassion. You’re a survivor, Rat. But, that’s not enough. You can save these people. People like you and Clint, you’re wired different from the rest of us. And, I think this day is the reason people like you evolved – to help the people around you survive.”

Rat shook her head, “First light, I’m helping myself. You’re welcome to come with me.”

Rat spent four hours covering the “kill zone” she and Clint had created, allowing the old man to sleep.

Carter’s words had bothered her. She had always prided herself on being able to take care of herself, but now what she had once thought of as her best trait made her feel cowardly. Rat looked toward the stage. Consuela and her three children were huddled together in the padded theater seats. Katy was curled in a fetal position on the stretcher while Carter slept on the stage below her.

Clint snored leaning back in a theater seat near Rat.

She was almost seventeen. These people were adults – most of them anyway. She wasn’t responsible for any of them.

So why did she feel like a piece of crap?

Clint woke up at six AM and Rat left the barricade to him. She climbed the steep stairs backstage to the roof.

The dawn was strange. A barely discernible lightening of the grey cloud above lent a soft white glow to the streets of Little Rock. She looked out at the mist-shrouded lake and the bridge that ran by the Robinson Center and across to the other shore.

Empty cars were packed bumper to bumper across the bridge.

The fog shifted. Near the center of the bridge, a massive shape loomed.

Rat leaned forward on the roof edge, mindful of the long drop to the alley below with its line of dumpsters. She squinted, trying to make sense of the shape in the middle of the bridge.

And, then she knew.

“What the hell did you drag me all the way up here for?” Clint complained as she half dragged him across the flat roof.

“You know about military stuff, right?”

“Yeah, what…”

“Is that a tank?” Rat asked pointing toward the bridge.

Clint shrugged free and squinted. “No. That ain’t a tank.”

“Well, what is it then?”

“That kiddo is an M2 Bradley Infantry Fighting Vehicle.”

Rat smiled as the fog whispered away, revealing a huge sand colored vehicle on treads. “It’s a tank.”

“No. Not technically. See that gun in the turret there? That’s a twenty-five millimeter machine gun. A tank would have a breach loading cannon of some type…”

“How many people can that thing hold?” Rat asked. Her mind was racing.

“Umm, nine I think. You got the driver, the commander, the gunner, and six troops…”

Rat threw her arms around Clint’s neck and kissed his cheek.

“What’s that for?” Clint asked.

She was smiling from ear to ear, “We’re getting out of here. All of us.”

“Okay, just slow down a second,” Katy said. They were all standing on the stage listening as Rat talked. “Clint, did you see that tank yesterday?”

Clint rolled his eyes, “For Pete’s sake, it ain’t a tank. I keep telling you…”

“Clint!” Katy said.

“No, I didn’t see it. There’s dead National Guard boys lying all around it. Looks like they tried to take the bridge and hold it. Didn’t work out for them.”

Katy nodded, “Could you see exhaust? Is it still running? For all we know, it could be out of gas. The batteries could be run down. The inside could be filled with ghouls.”

Rat shook her head, “We won’t know till we check it out.”

“No,” Katy said. “It’s too risky.”

Rat gritted her teeth, “Who put you in charge?”

Katy pointed to her badge, “The city of Little Rock. I’m the only police officer here, and public safety is my job. We’re going to stay here until help comes.”

Rat laughed, “Help? Nobody’s coming to help us. Everybody’s dead, lady. We’re on our own.”

Katy shrugged, “Okay, Einstein. Say we get the tank… sorry, the Bradley. Where are we going to go? The radio is dead silent. There’s no place to go.”

Clint scratched his chin, “That ain’t necessarily so.”

“Tell them, Clint,” Rat said.

“My farm is thirty-five miles from here. I got food, survival rations. Enough to feed the eight of us for a decade at least. Solar power. And, I got guns. A lot of guns.”

Consuela took his hand and smiled, “Thank God for crazy rednecks.”

Katy looked at Carter.

He smiled, “They make sense, Katy.”

“Damned right we make sense,” Clint said. “That little pink haired kid’s a genius.”

Katy looked at the floor, “Consuela, you and your kids are my number one concern…”

“God sent us a tank. I say we use it,” Consuela said.

“I’ll get the shotgun,” Carter said.

“No. You won’t,” Rat said.

“What?” Carter asked.

Katy nodded, “She’s right. You’re the closest thing to a doctor we’re likely to have. We can’t risk you.”

“Now, wait just a damned minute. If you think I’m going to let…” he stopped himself.

Katy stared up at him, “Lose the testosterone, Carter. I’ve seen you shoot. You’re better with a suture needle. I’m going, you’re staying.”

Clint laughed, “She’s right, Doc. And, I’ll be going along as well – that is unless any of you know how to drive a Bradley?”

Rat smiled, “Do
you
know how to drive a Bradley?”

“Little girl, I’ve been training for the ‘pocalypse since 1975. I can drive tanks, Russian made troop carriers – hell, I could fly a helicopter if I had to. Internet’s a wonderful thing.”

Katy, Clint, and Rat stepped out the front entrance of the Robinson Center. Rat looked behind her as Carter put the chain back in place. He gave her a weak smile and she returned it as she drew the Glock from its holster.

“Okay, nice and slow,” Katy said. “If we run into the ghouls before we’re halfway to the vehicle, we run back. Understood?”

“Katy, probably not a good time to tell you I can’t run for shit,” Clint said as he swung the AR-15 at eye level left and right.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be sticking with you, Gramps,” Rat said. “You got the firepower.”

“Let’s hope we don’t need it,” Katy said as they crossed the steps and stood on the street. She held the shotgun at hip level, having left her pistol with Carter.

The street was empty.

“You notice all the bodies are gone on this side of the bridge?” Rat whispered.

Katy glanced around, “They must have moved them during the night.”

“No. They ate them,” Clint said. “Radio said they eat the dead.”

“But, you said you could see dead soldiers on the bridge, right?” Katy whispered.

“Yeah,” Clint said as they walked up the street toward the bridge.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Rat asked. “It means they weren’t on the bridge.”

“Could also mean they’re working their way toward it. Might be on it now,” Clint answered. He pressed a button on the side of the AR-15 and light from a green laser sight cut through the mist.

The asphalt street gave way to the concrete of the bridge: four lanes blocked with stalled cars in both directions.

When the end came, they didn’t know in which direction to flee
, Rat thought.
They simply fled.

The cars around them were empty. Their windows were broken, the interiors bloody, but they were empty.

“Shit,” Rat whispered. She could hear grunting sounds ahead. Snapping sounds and she knew it was the sound of bones breaking.

They stepped around a panel truck and stopped.

Ten ghouls sat in a semi-circle facing away from them. Bodies were piled in front of them.

“God almighty,” Clint whispered.

Overnight, the ghouls had ceased to look human. Their heads were hairless, their skin a sickly grey. They dripped with the black ichor. It fell from their lips, their eyes. It dripped from their black fingernails that now looked more like talons.

“Like vultures,” Rat whispered.

“What?” Katy asked.

“That ye may eat the flesh of kings, and the flesh of captains, and the flesh of mighty men, and the flesh of horses, and of them that sit on them, and the flesh of all men, both free and bond, both small and great,” Clint whispered. “Revelations. Maybe Consuela is right.”

“We’re past the halfway mark,” Clint said. “What’s the play, Katy?”

“We go through,” she whispered. She nudged Rat to the right.

The three of them stood side by side, four feet apart. The ghouls hadn’t noticed them yet – they were intent on their meal.

“All right then. Pick your targets. Aim careful. One of them gets through, we’re done,” Clint said. He swung the AR and painted the back of a ghoul’s neck with the laser.

Rat took aim.

“Have at ‘em,” Clint said.

All hell broke loose.

In the Robinson Center, Consuela knelt with her kids by the front door as the sound of gunfire carried into the lobby. “Padre nuestro que estás en los cielos, santificado sea tu Nombre..”

Carter put a hand on her shoulder and gripped the Glock tight in his other hand.

One, two, three
, Rat counted her shots as she fired. Each round found its target. Three shots, three dead. Seven ghouls left.

No, six. Clint had fired once, right?

Rat tracked to the left – these ghouls in the center were Katy’s responsibility, but Rat aimed and fired as Katy fired the twelve gauge beside her.

Five, now there were five. Half of them were gone, but they were fast, so fast.

They had seemed dazed as the first shots rang out, but now the ghouls were reacting. They were running toward her.

Clint was firing faster, the brass flying out of the ejection port. Each bullet found its mark.

Rat could see the eyes, the solid black eyes of the nearest ghoul as it ran toward her. It’s black teeth were bared.

The twelve gauge roared.

The ghoul’s face disappeared.

It was over. Ten dead ghouls lay in front of them.

“We’re alive,” Rat whispered.

“Yeah, we are,” Clint answered.

They heard screams behind them.

Rat looked behind her, far down the street leading to the bridge. Dark shapes moved there. They were running toward the bridge.

“Oh, my God,” Rat whispered.

“They heard the shots. Move it, kid,” Clint yelled.

An army of ghouls ran up the street toward them, cutting off any hope of escape back to the Robinson Center.

They ran past the dead ghouls toward the Bradley.

The shooting had stopped. Carter strained to look through the windows at the far end of the atrium, but he could see nothing. “Okay, they’ll be here in a minute,” he said. He handed Luis the Glock.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Luis whispered. “I don’t know anything about guns.”

“Rat showed me, just point it and pull the trigger. I need to get the supplies. Don’t open that door until they’re right outside, okay?”

Luis looked terrified, “But, what if they don’t make it?”

“They’ll make it,” Carter whispered.

The back door to the Bradley was hydraulic and formed a ramp when it was lowered. Rat peered into the cramped interior. Two padded benches ran along both sides.

It was empty. The engine wasn’t running. In a moment, they would know if it would ever start again.