Deadfall: Hunters (6 page)

A second or two after we opened the door, a second figure came walking into the penthouse living room right next to the zombie cage from an adjacent room. He came out shouting angrily:

“Dammit. Now what?”

He turned to look at the door, growling annoyingly and was just as equally surprised to see us as we were to see him. I can’t tell just how long we stood there staring at each other, and it probably was only a second, but it seemed like an eternity. For my part, I was hesitating to shoot. I could kill zombies but there was an apparent detachment when it came to killing the dead. It was an oxymoron, killing the dead, and I never felt guilty. But here we would have to kill a living human being, albeit, an allegedly asshole one.

For that man’s thoughts, I will never know. The confusion we saw on his face was enough. Tague immediately opened fire on him, hitting him twice in succession in the upper body. The man dropped down behind a couch in front of the cage. Tague shouted at me and we both rushed in to duck behind some of the furniture. The zombies hanging from the ceiling began twisting so violently that they were spinning around like a sick disco ball. Meanwhile, the ones in the cage were fighting through each other to reach out through the cage, reaching at the man behind the couch and at the commotion in general. Behind us, many of the women began screaming.

And through it all, the man on the couch never stirred.

We began moving from chair to couch, trying to get to the man we had shot, all the while keeping an eye on the one comatose on the couch. I felt like a super soldier, ducking behind every piece of furniture around. I realized later that if we had met anyone with decent armament, a felt cushion wouldn’t have stopped any bullets. Tague reached the shot man first. He was sitting up against the back of the couch, bleeding heavily, holding his chest, but not quite dead. He had no weapons near him that we could see. I walked over toward the one on the couch, holding my weapon pointed at him the whole time. Behind me I heard someone whimper, “shoot him.” At this point, I still didn’t know which one was which.

Tague stood up next to the couch.

“What should I do?” he asked, gesturing down to the heavily wounded man.

I was still pointing my gun at the man on the couch, wondering the same. I could hear some of the women entering the room, but I dared not take my eyes off the man. Then, things really got wild.

Tague took his eyes off the wounded man to see who was coming in, and the wounded man found a burst of energy, stood up, and lunged at the cage. Tague spun around, firing three shots into the man, completely killing him this time, but not before the man had pulled on a lever or crank that began a chain reaction of events. Whatever was holding the cage walls up released them, and the large metal bars came clanging down. Tague jumped out of the way just in time, falling to the ground. The zombies came stumbling out, falling over themselves. The first ones went straight to the body of the now dead man and began to rip flesh off of him. The rest of the zombies came spilling out into the room. The women screamed and I heard a scramble to leave the room. I took one glance at the man on the couch, who still hadn’t moved. Whatever he was under was potent.

Tague was backpedalling along the floor, scuttling backwards like a crab until he got to the steps that surrounded the living room area of the penthouse room. He sat there for a second and then fired three times, skillfully bringing down three of the zombies. I fired five times, but was only able to really kill one. I cursed my lack of shooting skills at the moment, and began looking around for something far more my style. When I looked on the wall to my right, I saw my prize.

The wall had a wide assortment of swords hanging from racks.

I would like to make a confession. It is clear that the events on this island were important to me and my group for many reasons, but I have to admit that what I found upon that wall is the real basis of this long entry. I have mentioned that I was a former High School teacher that taught History. I taught it not just because I could, but because I found the study of humanity throughout the millennia as critical to understanding people now. Fancy and deep thoughts, I know. But knowing History has never really been that useful after Deadfall. Knowing the kings of England doesn’t stop zombies from trying to rip your limbs off. But in that very moment, I had some clarity and saw for a brief moment, a solution to fighting the zombies.

But that moment passed away, for on the wall, amidst the different swords, was a pair of Gladii. The Gladius was a Roman sword, the staple sword of the Roman soldier. It was a short weapon, weighted and balanced at the hilt. It was not a hack-and-slash weapon, although it could do the job if needed. Instead, it was an elegant stabbing weapon. Not wanting to take my chances with having to swing a large sword, the Gladius seemed like the ideal close quarters weapon against the slower, armor less and inherently dumb zombie.

I dashed over to the wall and pulled the two swords down. I took the first one and unsheathed it, revealing a well maintained sword, probably not an original. I tossed the other one aside, although not to be forgotten, and took a few steps back toward the entrance of the door. Most of the women had vanished from the hallway, although the one that had helped us was still there. Tague joined me there, firing three more shots that brought down two more zombies. I fired again, hearing a hollow click.
He began to reload his gun when the brunt of the zombies fell upon us.

I don’t remember those first couple of seconds too well. Somehow, I did what I needed because I'm sitting here writing this. I do know that the first zombie that came at me, a man with an enormous patch of hair on his face, met the end of my gladius through his face and dropped in a large spatter of creamy, thick dark green ooze. I remember another zombie grabbing my arm, right around the spot where one had taken a bite out of me many months ago. I tried hacking at him with the gladius, knocking him away from me. I heard a few more gun shots and then, I heard laughter.

I understand that close combat is a confusing affair. I only know from what I have read, but there is so much confusion on the combat field that most never know what really happens until after the battle. So when I mention I heard laughter, at that very moment, I just shrugged it off as just the adrenaline playing tricks on my mind. I just ignored these strange audible hallucinations and kept stabbing the zombies that came at me. And I seemed to be doing quite well, all around me, zombies were dropping and I couldn’t believe that for that moment, I was actually a badass with a sword. I screamed loudly in utter satisfaction and that when I saw the huge figure.

Blevin.

He had rampaged onto the scene like the incredible hulk and was the real reason we were holding our own against the zombies. I took a step back to get a true vision of our little battle and was taken aback by the ferocity of our gigantic Irish warrior. Blevin was crushing zombies with his bare hands, ripping arms off of them and tossing them aside. He smashed his fist into another, crushing the face into a mess of bone and ooze, then reached across to another one, grabbing it by the neck and ripping the head clean off. Beyond him, Tague had taken many steps back beyond the incredible display of slaughter, occasionally firing a round into a straggling zombie. But the whole show belonged to the raging giant.

The dead piled up around him as he routinely smashed them into pulp, snapping limbs, arms, and kicking with such strength that zombies went flying back into others, falling over. He fought with such coordination and skill, a multitasking fighter. With his arms he pulverized the dead, while stomping on the heads of those he knocked over with kicks. It was a surreal experience completely highlighted by the hearty laughter that bounced off the walls as easily as the zombies he threw against them. It was a whirlwind of muscle, utter terrifying destruction. I stood back in awe and just waited.

The cage had held nearly thirty zombies, and I can honestly say that I accounted for maybe two of them. It was over in a matter of a minute or two after Blevin joined the fight. I just remember him turning around and smashing the last one and smiling.

“I’ve been dying to do that for a very long time,” he said through a large smile.

Janine came out from her hiding spot, wherever that had been, looked at her giant guardian and said, “That was amazing.”

Those words were in my mind.

Tague stepped back into the penthouse room, stepping over the mangled bodies of the zombies. I followed behind him, pausing briefly to pick up the second gladius off the floor. The two zombies still hung from the ceiling, twisting and turning. As we walked over to them, we immediately saw that our sleeping beauty had awoken. He was sitting up on the couch, eyes blood shot, his head waving back and forth slowly. He groaned loudly then put his hands on his head. At that moment, I regretted not having my gun and I started looking around for it. Tague though, was ready, and had his pointed right at him.

“What the hell is going on? Who let them out?” he began, then took a glazed look at Tague, “Who the hell are you?”

He looked beyond Tague and saw Blevin standing by the doorway. Janine was standing behind him, and beyond them I could see some of the women making their way back. Cain tried standing up, but fell over back on the couch, screaming in pain or confusion, or both. Tague took one step back, but didn’t fire.

Cain sat back up on the couch, rubbing his temples. This was a hangover he hadn’t expected. I heard a scream and Janine came running into the room. Blevin ran in after her, grabbing her. She screamed and pointed at one of the zombies hanging from the ceiling.

“No, mom,” she sobbed.

I looked back up at the twisting body, sympathy shooting through me. The girl buried her face in Blevin’s side, sobbing.

Cain sat there, dazed. He looked up at Blevin.

“Blevin! What the hell?” he shouted.

Blevin just looked back at him, the smile long gone.

He then looked at Tague and me.

“So you want my women huh?” he spat, “you gonna have to kill me then.”

That had been the intention, but the moment of anger had passed some. In front of us was a disheveled man, unkempt, dirty, extremely hungover or maybe still under the influence of whatever he had taken. He didn’t seem like a mighty mercenary at that point.

He screamed beyond Blevin, “I'm gonna kill the lot of you after I kill them. You hear me?”

I glanced back at the women, honest fear showing in their eyes. We needed to end this now. I looked at Blevin and then noticed that Janine was no longer at his side. I scanned the room quickly for her, but didn’t see her.

“What? Don’t you have the balls to do it now?” laughed Cain.

Tague turned his head just slightly, looking at me. I knew he didn’t want to do it. I nodded my head slightly and I could tell he was getting ready to do the deed.

He never got the chance.

Cain leaned back into the couch and started laughing. Then there was a gasp and his laughter turned into a gurgle. Janine had snuck back around behind the couch and had buried a knife into the ruffian’s neck. Cain immediately grabbed his neck, bright red blood flowing over his fingers. He tried standing up, looked back at the young girl, tried to reach out to her, then fell forward into the couch, face buried in the cushions. The blood soaked into the couch, pooling by his face.

I exhaled.

It was done for me, just not for Janine.

She walked over and found my gun and picked it up. For a moment, I wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but she walked over to Cain, put the gun right into his head and fired. Blood, bone and grey matter flew all over the couch. She then took a step back, and aimed the gun at her former mother. She fired once, hitting the zombie in the chest, sending it into a mad spin. The girl lost it and began crying. Tague stepped up next to her and was about to take her gun but she resisted.

She spun around, “No. I'm going to do it.”

She controlled herself, aimed at the spinning head, took a deep breath, and fired one more shot. It burst cleanly through the zombie’s head. Her former mother sagged and went limp. Tagged walked up to the other zombie and fired his gun. Janine dropped my gun and walked out of the room.

I was ready to leave too.

That would have been a horrible way to end that event, but the reunion between the mothers and daughters easily made up for it. At that moment I knew we had done the right thing, even if it meant almost losing our lives. Even Tague, the pragmatist, felt good about what he had done.

“That was worth it,” he told me as we stood there, watching the women and girls hug, kiss, cry, and laugh.

“It was,” I replied, “I just hope we don’t have to do that again.”

He looked right at me and said, “We’re going to have to. You know it.”

Lucy, Aaron and Maxie were relieved to hear we had survived and righted a very large wrong on the island. They came on shore that next day to help and we talked long into the night. There were many things that needed to be done here before we left.

The first issue was the safety of the women and girls. The rest of the mercenaries were due to return in two weeks. No one was ready to attempt to repeat what we had done there that night. Two men, unaware and mostly comatose, was one thing. Many more armed and anxious men was too much. So we began making plans.