After the Bite (9 page)

They did so.

“Turn around,” McCready said. “Put your hands on your head, all three of you.”

McCready began marching the men down the street.

“Any of you others speak—”

A shot rang out and Chancellor
’s head exploded. The six living men ducked before his body hit the dirt.

“Shit!” Tate said.

“There!” McCready said. He pointed to a hovel that was missing most of its top floor, and was likely to be empty. Another shot rang out, and a pock mark appeared in the earth by McCready’s foot.

“Sniper!” Wilk said.

“One of yours?” McCready asked, guiding Jasim with one hand and holding a gun with the other.

“If they were, would they be shooting at us? It
’s the Taliban.”

They reached the hovel and Jasim shoulder-charged the door, knocking it in with ease. The place was a mess, but empty
of people. The six men filed inside, the Americans shoving the Arabs into the place and then crouching beside the windows. Tate shut the door.

“We don
’t have time for this shit!” he said. “We have to get to the extraction point!”

“I fucking know that, Tate,” McCready said. Their own sniper had been killed hours before. They were hopeless. Wilk peered out of a window, and the sill exploded. He ducked back into the hovel.

“What do we do?”

“Are any of you sharpshooters?” McCready asked.

“I am,” one of the men said.

“What
’s your name?”

“Qareem.”

“Qareem, if I give you a rifle, you’re not going to turn it on me, are you?”

“Why should I not?”

“We just want to get home, same as you,” McCready said.

“Then let us,” Jasim said.

The third man started shouting in Arabic.

“What the fuck
’s he saying?” McCready said. Tate listened.

“He says, uh—”

“He says it’s happening again,” Jasim said. He pointed.

Through the
broken back window they could see into an alley. A group of people was feasting on two bodies on the ground.

“What the fuck is this shit?” Tate said.

“We can’t stay here, they can walk right in,” McCready said. He turned back to Qareem. “If you take out that sniper, all three of you are free to go.” Qareem laughed.

“What good is being free to go if my soul is condemned? I will not kill a Muslim.”

“He would’ve killed you,” Tate said.

“No matter,” Qareem said.

Tate started toward him.

“Tate, no,” McCready said. Tate grabbed Qareem by his shirt and lifted him up. “That
’s an order!”

Tate looked at him, sighed, and shoved Qareem back down.

“I’ll do it,” Jasim said.

“How good a shot are you?”

“Good enough, I hope. I’m already condemned. And now I just want to see my son’s beautiful eyes again.”

“Wilk, you still have Orson
’s rifle?”

“Yeah,” Wilk said. He swung the gun from his back and slid it across the floor to McCready. McCready emptied it of all but one bullet and handed it to Jasim. Jasim took the gun.

“What if I miss?”

“I
’ll give you another bullet. One at a time, until the sniper’s gone.”

It didn
’t take more than one shot. Jasim crawled to the window, placed the barrel of the gun on the sill, looked down the sight for a moment, and then fired. The gunshots stopped, but the third man started shouting in Arabic again.

“They heard the shot,” Qareem said. The people from the alley were climbing into the window at the back of the hovel.

“We need to leave,” Wilk said.

“We can
’t,” McCready said. “We don’t know how many more there are.”

Qareem got to his feet and helped his friend up, and they started for the door. Tate raised his gun to them. “Where do you think you
’re going?”

“We were promised,” Qareem said. Jasim handed the rifle to Wilk on his way to the door.

“Don’t move,” Tate said. Wilk began firing his pistol at the people entering the house.

“Help us,” McCready said. Jasim laughed.

“Why? You’ve agreed to let us go. Why would I kill more brothers for you?”

“Whatever these are, they aren
’t Muslims anymore,” McCready said. Qareem opened the door. “They’ll eat you the same as us.”

“Eaten, shot, it makes no matter. If we die, we die trying.”

Wilk fired a few more shots, then his gun clicked. McCready turned his rifle to the entryway. They were all low on ammo, and he hadn’t expected… whatever the hell this was.

“Jasim,” McCready said. “Help us get through town. We
’ll give you your guns, we’ll even escort you home.”

Jasim stopped. Qareem and the third man were already outside.

“Why?” Jasim said. “Why do you need my help?”

“I told you,” McCready said. “We just want to get home.” The first of the men from outside
entered the room, and McCready fired.

“All right,” Jasim said. “I
’ll help you.”

McCready tossed him a pistol. Jasim fired at the next man from outside. He and McCready covered Wilk and Tate as they made for the street. Then
Jasim covered McCready as he followed.

“What about your friends?” Wilk said when Jasim exited the hovel, calmly closing the door behind him.

“They can find their own way home.”

“They won
’t help us?”

“They have no reason to.”

“And you do?” Tate said.

“My reason is named Abdullah. He has hair of silk and eyes of the ocean, and I would very much like to see them again. Get me home.”

They started off with Jasim leading the way. Shots rang out far away, and all wondered who was shooting and what they were shooting at.

A man came out from the alley, lunging and Jasim. Jasim stepped aside and the man fell to the dirt. Wilk shot him.

“Wilk, do have any idea just what the fuck is going on?” McCready said.

“You want my expert opinion?”

“I’ll take just about anything.”

“Sir, if I didn
’t know better, I’d say we have a zombie problem.”

McCready wanted to laugh, but he was just too fucking tired.

“A madness has befallen them,” Jasim said. “They are dangerous, but they are not smart, not swift. Four men should be able to find a house at the edge of a city. Three men should be able to follow a river to their extraction point.”

“Hey, how the fuck do you know where our extraction point is?” Tate said. Jasim only chuckled.

“You have quite a temper, my friend.”

“I
’m not your fucking friend,” Tate said.

“I never caught your name, my friend.”

“Tate. Jared Tate. The fuck do you care?”

“You
’re a man, as am I. Like it or not, we’ve saved each other’s lives this night. I’d know the name of the men who brought me to my son.”

“Wilk.”

“I’m McCready.” He stopped walking and offered his hand. Jasim looked at it, took it, shook. Then they continued.

“Ahead,” Jasim said. There was a group of men in the street, most just standing there, some bleeding and wrestling with others.

“We don’t have much ammo,” Wilk said.

“We go around, then,” Jasim said. He led them down an alley that ended in a dead end.

“He tricked us! Motherfucker!” Tate said. “Should we use the C4?”

Jasim held up a hand.

“It would seem to me that quiet is our friend on this night, and this is no trick. Over this wall is an alley much like this one. Should we reach the end of it and go left, then walk several blocks and go left again, would we not emerge ahead of that group?”

McCready looked around, spotted a trash can. He swung his rifle behind him
, grabbed it, and dragged it to the wall. He jumped and grabbed the wall and then put a foot on the trash can, trying to keep most of his weight on the wall to keep the can from collapsing. McCready peered over the top and saw another alley. It was empty. He hopped down.

“He
’s right,” he said, and then he saw figures at the end of the alley. “Shit, we need to move, now!”

The figure
s approached. Jasim put his gun in his belt and offered his hands, and Tate hopped to the wall, resting his foot in Jasim’s hands. Jasim lifted him to the top, and Tate stood upon it, reaching a hand down.

“Go, my friend,” Jasim said. McCready turned to Wilk, but Wilk shoved him toward Jasim.

“You need to stay alive, you’re the one who knows how to get to the extraction point.”

McCready wasted no time. He hopped up the wall and Jasim gave him a boost. From the top of the wall, Tate reached down and took his hand and hoisted him up. The wall was thin and Tate had to struggle to keep his footing and practically threw McCready to the other side.

McCready could see only Tate and could hear the other men. He heard a few gunshots.

“Come on, Wilk!” Tate said. “We have no time!”

But it was Jasim who came over next. Tate helped him, and that time he did lose his footing. Tate and Jasim tumbled over the wall and landed in the dirt near McCready.

“Fuck! Wilk!”

Shots rang out.

“Get out of here!” Wilk shouted.

“Wilk, why didn’t you grab my hand!”

“You guys need Jasim. He
’ll get you out of this town. Now fucking go!”

“We don
’t leave men behind!” Tate said. He tried to climb back over the wall, and then Wilk screamed. Tate dropped to the ground and landed on his ass, and McCready could swear his eyes teared up. His own already had.

“We must go, my friend,” Jasim said. He helped Tate to his feet, and McCready did as well.

“I’m not leaving him!” Tate said.

“A man died for you this night,” Jasim said. The gunshots and the screams didn
’t stop. “You’ve seen what happens when someone is bitten. The madness takes them. Perhaps we should leave now, and let your friend not die for nothing.”

They practically had to drag Tate to the end of the alley. It was uphill and difficult, but once Tate rounded the corner, he went easily enough.

McCready stole a glance back. At this height he could see over the wall, and what he saw only made it hurt worse. Wilk was just now being bitten, had screamed just to convince them to get to safety. McCready was glad Tate hadn’t seen. It would only make it harder on all of them.

Jasim kept them to back alleys and dark streets. They ran into trouble a few times, but watched each other
’s backs. McCready didn’t know how much time had passed. He could swear the sky was getting lighter, but between the fire and his own exhaustion it was difficult to tell.

“There,” Jasim finally said. He pointed to a hovel. In the distance behind it the hills rolled, sandy and dark,
and McCready could see the river. They were so close.

“That
’s yours?” Tate said.

“Yes, I
’m afraid,” Jasim said. There were people wandering the entire street, and the door to Jasim’s home was wide open.

“Then let
’s get to fucking work,” Tate said. He cocked his gun and started firing. The wanderers turned and started toward them, and the three men continued walking and firing. No one came within ten feet of them. They reached Jasim’s door.

“You
’re home, buddy,” Tate said. “Thanks for everything.”

“We
’re going in with you,” McCready said. He had a sinking feeling in his gut.

“You have no time, my friend. You
’ve brought me to my son, for that I can never thank you enough. There’s the river. Go.”

“Humor me,” McCready said.

The three men entered the hovel. It was dark. Jasim rushed ahead, past a hall and into the kitchen.

T
hen he screamed a tired, painful scream that hurt McCready’s heart worse than anything else that night.

McCready entered the kitchen. Tate brought up the rear, firing at anything that approached the door.

McCready looked down, his eyes adjusted to the light. Jasim was kneeling next to a woman’s body. Her throat had been torn out. He held something in his arms, cradling it back and forth, and he screamed again and again, shouting something in Arabic between his cries.

McCready was out of tears. He saw a little hand dangling from Jasim
’s arms, brushing the floor gently, blood dripping down it. McCready saw a tuft of black hair, and when he kneeled down next to Jasim and put his arm on the man’s shoulder, he saw eyes the color of the ocean staring up at the ceiling, dead.