Voodoo Plague - 01 (3 page)

Normally I would
have enjoyed holding a G-String clad stripper tight against me, but let me tell
you this was anything but erotic.  She was absolutely silent, but still shaking
like a leaf in a strong wind.  Whether cold from being in the water or out of sheer
terror, at least she had silenced her breathing.  Unfortunately she still had
me in a stranglehold, and if our hunters charged us we were goners.  Carefully
wrapping my right arm around her waist I slowly exerted pressure to the side,
peeling her off of me.  She resisted at first, and then relaxed enough for me
to guide her to a position beside and slightly behind that would allow me
freedom of movement.  My hand still resting on the small of her back as she
moved, I started to step back with her and managed to kick what was probably
the only empty beer can in the parking lot. 

The can
clattered across the pavement loud enough to, no pun intended, raise the dead. 
Both heads instantly snapped toward us and they charged, arms extended forward
and wide to sweep in any prey that they might have run past.  I pushed her hard
towards the larger open parking area and side slipped the Troopers grasp, his
fingers brushing my sleeve.

His snarl rose
an octave and he whirled in my direction, the college student turning towards
the snarl.  I stepped in and rammed the now blunted stake into the bridge of
the Trooper’s nose with all my weight behind the blow.  I might as well have
been striking a tree for all the good it did.  His head rocked back from the
force but he didn’t even notice the nasty gash I opened on his face and the
blood pouring down from his broken nose.  He just kept snarling and advancing.

Back pedaling,
trying to get room to fight, I tripped over my own feet and crashed to the
ground.  The stake slipped out of my hand and clattered across the pavement. 
For a moment they paused, heads tracking the direction of the clatter, but
somehow they knew their prey was still right in front of them and they started
forward again, looming over me.  I was scrambling backwards like a crab on its
back when the woman started yelling.

“Hey, assholes! 
Over here!  Come get me if you’re man enough.  Come on you fuckers.  I’m right
here!”  I risked a glance in her direction.  She was screaming at the top of
her lungs and jumping up and down, waving her arms. 

They stopped
their advance on me and I froze, holding my breath.  I knew she was trying to
distract them, and the courage she was showing was incredible.  Their heads
turned toward her, but they didn’t move. 

“Come on you
dickless cocksuckers!  I’m right here!”  She screamed even louder than I
thought possible, and they finally turned away from me and started a slow rush
in her direction.

Looking for my
club I spotted it farther away than I thought it could have gone, but also
spotted a nicely rounded rock about the size of a small cantaloupe laying at
the edge of the parking lot.  Quietly scrambling to my feet I scooped the rock
up in both hands and charged the cop with it raised over my head.  He heard my
approach and turned in time for me to cave in the front of his skull.  He
crumpled to the ground at my feet without a sound. 

The college
student was still moving towards the woman’s screams, and she was getting pretty
creative in her names for him.  Ripping the Trooper’s pistol out of his belt
holster I rushed the college student.  The weapon was a standard police issue
Glock 9 mm, and I quickly made sure a round was chambered.  Coming up beside
the last attacker I put the pistol’s muzzle against the side of his head and
pulled the trigger, blowing blood and brains across the parking lot.  He
dropped as silently as the Trooper had.

Breathing hard I
stood still and stared at the man I’d just killed.  Was he a man, or had I
killed some kind of zombie thingy?  The little voice in my head was moments
away from a hysterical giggle when I contemplated the idea of zombies, but I
pushed it down.  I stepped back to the Trooper and took the duty belt off the
body, strapping it around my waist and holstering the Glock.  The belt had two
magazine pouches, both will fully loaded spare mags, a pair of hand cuffs
strapped on to it at the small of my back, and various rings and hooks that I
had no idea what they were for.  At the moment all I cared about was the weapon
and extra ammunition.

“Thank you,” the
woman had come over to me while I was robbing the dead.  “You saved my life.” 
She stood in front of me wearing next to nothing, covered in filth, yet didn’t
appear to be the least bit self-conscious.

“I think we’re
even.  That was pretty brave to draw them away like that.”

She looked away
then back at me, “It was as much self-preservation as anything.  They’ve been
chasing me for over two hours.  I couldn’t have survived much longer without
your help.  You’re the first normal person I’ve seen in at least an hour.”

I was shocked to
hear that.  “An hour?  Where were you?  What happened?”

“I dance at a
club not too far from here, but you can probably guess that from looking at
me,” she made a ‘look at this’ gesture with her hands in front of her nearly
nude body.  “I was on stage when all hell broke loose.”

Rachel Miles
reached behind her back and undid the clasp that held up her gold sequined
bikini top, slid it over her shoulders and as it dropped to the stage used her
upper arms to press her breasts together to the hoots and howls of the crowd. 
She was a third of the way through her second song, on stage at the Toy Box gentleman’s
club north of Atlanta.  New York had been nuked hours ago, but the fat pig of a
boss that owned the club refused to close early and had threatened to fire her
if she didn’t go on stage.  The bar was half full of hard core drinkers, but
Rachel couldn’t see any of them because of the bright lights focused on her
performance.

Ashley Box was
her stage name, and while she certainly had the looks and personality to make
money in strip clubs, she detested the job.  But where else was she going to
make five hundred dollars a night without having to spread her legs?  It paid
the bills, her college tuition, and left plenty more for her to drive a decent
car and maintain a small but nice apartment in a good area of Atlanta.  One
more year of med school and she’d be able to quit, and she’d have her MD
without the crushing mountain of student loans that most of her class mates
were accumulating.

Rachel was
staring into the lights, bent over to show her assets to the crowd when the
first sounds of a disturbance reached her over the pounding music.  Accustomed
to bar fights and confident the bouncers, Rick and Jeff, both former Georgia
offensive linemen, would make quick work of any troublemakers she ignored the
sounds and kept swaying her hips in time to the music.  The six inch stiletto
heels she was wearing were killing her feet tonight and she couldn’t wait to
finish this set.  She only had one more, then could head home and get some
studying done before collapsing into bed.

The song ended
and the stage lights dimmed allowing Rachel a view of the disturbance by the
door that was growing in volume.  She was shocked to see Sandy, a small blonde
that danced in the club and supplemented her income giving blow jobs in the
parking lot, hanging on to Jeff’s thick neck and biting him.  What the hell was
going on?  Rick, the other bouncer, grabbed her by the hair and ripped her off
Jeff’s back, flinging her against the wall.  He turned to his friend who had
collapsed onto the floor and appeared to be going in to convulsions and didn’t
notice that Sandy bounced off the wall and got back to her feet like nothing had
happened. 

Her eyes were
blood red, visible even from across the room, and her mouth, neck and chest
were slick with Jeff’s blood.  With a wet, gurgling snarl she leapt onto Rick’s
back as he bent over his injured friend, locked her arms around him and sank
her teeth into his over developed neck muscles.  Rick howled in pain, lurched
to his feet and reached over his head to grab the much smaller woman.  He tore
her loose, lifted her in the air upside down and drove her headfirst into the
floor where she collapsed and didn’t move again.  Rachel clearly heard the snap
when Sandy’s neck broke.

“Crazy fucking
bitch!” Rick roared, staring down at the body. 

Rachel felt like
she was in a waking nightmare, and things got worse when Jeff rose to his feet
behind Rick.  His eyes were the same blood red as Sandy’s had been and he let
loose with the same snarl she had made.  Rick whirled when he heard the snarl
and tried to raise a hand to fend off the charging attack from Jeff, but it was
too late.  They both crashed to the floor sending tables, chairs and a few
customers scattering like leaves.  Jeff clamped on to Rick’s throat with his
teeth and snarling the whole time started ripping flesh, finally tearing the
carotid artery and getting soaked in a jet of bright red arterial blood.

Rachel stood
frozen in horror, her mind unable to comprehend what her eyes were seeing.  She
remained frozen in place until a hand reached out from the edge of the stage
and grabbed her left ankle, savagely pulling her leg out from under her.  She
fell on her ass in the middle of the stage, her ankle held in a painful vice
like grip.  Lying on her back she raised her head and started to scream, but
the scream died in her throat when she saw her attacker was another of the
dancers named Lisa. 

Lisa’s eyes were
the same blood red color, but only the whites, and her face was smeared with
blood.  She leapt over the chairs and the brass rail at the edge of the stage,
snarling deep in her chest and pulling on Rachel’s leg.  Rachel tried to scoot
away but the grip on her ankle was too strong and she only succeeded in
allowing Lisa to pull her closer.  Rachel started kicking with her free leg,
feeling the solid blows connecting but having no effect on the grip on her
ankle.  Lisa pulled further up onto the stage, her upper body now pinning
Rachel’s left leg and her grip shifted to Rachel’s thigh. 

Now Rachel
started to scream for help and pulled her right leg up and kicked in a stomping
motion, once, twice then a third time and suddenly the grip went slack and Lisa
stopped moving.  Rachel kept screaming for a few moments then dared to look and
had to turn her head to the side and vomit on the stage.  Her stomp kicks while
wearing stiletto heels had gashed open Lisa’s face to the bone in two long,
ragged tears.  The third kick had buried the entire six inch spiked heel
directly into Lisa’s left eye, and the shoe was stuck in the dead girl’s skull.

Rachel reached
down and unbuckled the shoe, slipping her foot out and using it to push the
body off her left leg.  She abandoned the other shoe as well, standing up and
surveying the bar.  There were only a few customers left that didn’t have blood
red eyes and they were now far outnumbered by the gang that was led by Jeff the
bouncer.  As she watched two of the customers went down screaming under the
weight of Jeff and two other dancers. 

She started to
back towards the stage exit when Carl, the bartender, leapt over the bar with a
shotgun in his hands.  Rachel’s first impulse was to run to him for protection,
but she stopped and watched as he fired two deafening blasts into the body of a
man charging towards him with a snarl.  The shotgun blasts shredded clothing
and flesh and knocked the man to the ground, but moments later he was back on
his feet and charging Carl.  Rachel turned and fled the stage, hearing three
more blasts from Carl’s shotgun. 

Rachel raced
through the dressing area, elbowing a shorter girl aside that leapt at her as
she passed, then hit the emergency fire door at full stride and burst into the
back parking lot.  She was barefoot and wearing only a G-String, but had never
been so happy to be outside.

The fire door
opened into the back parking lot and Rachel took a moment to get her bearings
and was flooded with relief when she saw a Georgia Highway Patrol cruiser with
blue lights flashing screech to a stop in the parking lot.  She started running
towards the cop who was getting out of his car with a nightstick in hand. 
Neither of them saw the two young men with long hair, dressed in jeans and polo
shirts come out of the dark behind a pickup truck until they were already on
the Trooper.  He had time to swing the night stick once, making a solid
connection with one of the men’s upper leg, but the blow had no effect and they
swarmed him and carried him to the ground.  Both of them started biting and
clawing but he was able to fight them off and move to the far side of the cruiser
where he stood swaying and shaking.

Rachel ran
around the perimeter of the parking lot, keeping vehicles between her and the
two young men.  She reached the cop and grabbed his arm, feeling safer despite
having watched him be attacked.  The Trooper turned his head and looked at her,
sweat pouring off his face.  He had bite marks on his forearms and hands and
deep fingernail scratches on his face.  He opened his mouth to say something
but all that came out was a gurgle.  A moan followed and the pain reflected in
his eyes must have been agonizing and he started to crumple to his knees, only
Rachel’s support keeping him upright. 

The two young
men were circling the front of the cruiser and Rachel tugged the Trooper’s arm,
leading him around the back of the car, intent on keeping it between them and
their attackers.  They kept circling, gurgling and snarling, red eyes glowing
from the huge neon sign mounted to the roof of the strip club.  On their second
circuit of the cruiser the Trooper stopped cold and Rachel lost her grip on his
arm as she kept going a couple of steps.  She turned and gasped to see blood
dripping from his ears and nose.  As she watched, his eyes widened and seemed
to bulge forward out of his head as if under great pressure, then first one then
the other turned completely red.

“Oh my God,”
Rachel breathed, and took another step away from the Trooper. 

With a snarl he
stepped towards her, arms raised to shoulder height and out at forty-five
degree angles.  Perfect for sweeping any prey into his grip.  Rachel turned and
ran.