Empty Bodies (Book 5): Damnation (14 page)

Only the horde of Empties, an armed Number 32, and a still injured Number 12 remained on the field.

The crowd stood and cheered.

Number 12 had managed to make it back up to his feet, but stood with a bend in his torso as he held his side. He massaged his ribs to try and comfort them. His counterpart stood ten yards back from him in a battle stance, the ax firmly in his hands.

The horde, no longer distracted with the guards, focused on the two men remaining on the field. The Empties lumbered toward them.

Number 12 yelled out and started to limp toward the fence. He turned toward the side of the stadium in which Gabriel sat, and most of the crowd booed as he tried to get away. He looked terrified, his jaw moving up and down as he cried out. Tears ran down his face.

The guards along the perimeter of the fence raised their weapons, aiming them at Number 12.

Gabriel had been completely entranced by the situation until an elbow jabbed his shoulder. He looked up to see Lance cupping his hands around his mouth and booing. On the field, Number 12 stopped twenty yards from the fence.

“What’s going on?” Gabriel asked.

Lance waved Gabriel off.

“They’re making him stay and fight,” Derek said. “If he tries to run away, the guards will shoot him in the legs and leave him to get eaten.” He laughed. “It’s fucking awesome.”

Gabriel swallowed. He scanned the crowd. Apparently, everyone else thought it was awesome, too. Everyone except for poor Number 12, struggling to even stay on his feet.

“What the hell is this?” Gabriel finally asked.

Before Derek could answer, the crowd came to life in excitement. Gabriel looked out onto the field and saw Number 32 sprinting toward one of the Empties. It was standing just out in front of the rest of the horde. Number 32 swung the ax and decapitated the beast.

Everyone cheered as the blood sprayed onto the turf.

Number 32 readied the ax again, and then took a second swing. The blade of the ax buried into his target’s shoulder, and he had trouble pulling it out of the Empty. He yelled out, unable to withdraw the weapon just as the thing started to lunge at him. Number 32 evaded the beast and kicked it in the back, sending it to the ground. Without hesitation, Number 32 drew the ax from the fallen creature’s shoulder. He lifted the ax over his head and crushed the stumbled Empty’s skull before it could stand back up. With the rest of the group hovering toward him, he retreated fifteen yards, allowing himself time to catch his breath.

Number 12 had finally turned to face the creatures, and part of the group had broken off to walk toward him. He had no weapon, and found himself torn between trying to appease the guards and fight the Empties by hand, or taking his chance with trying to outrun them. With either option, he seemed destined to die, barring a miracle.

That miracle came in the form of a fatal mistake by the arrogant Number 32.

Again, a single Empty had separated itself from the rest of the group. Number 32 saw a golden opportunity to thin the herd, and ran towards the creature with the ax on his shoulder. This, of course, drew a fury from the crowd. Even Ambrose stood and smiled, clapping his hands and raising a fist into the air.

Number 32 struck the creature in the neck, sending the blade halfway through its flesh. When he went to pull the ax out, though, he did so with too much excitement, and he threw the weapon fifteen yards behind him.

The crowd gasped.

He turned to go after the weapon. Everything seemed to go into slow motion. Gabriel watched as the man’s foot turned onto its side as his ankle twisted around. He fell face first onto the turf and screamed in agony. His hand immediately went to his injured joint.

Number 32 tried to stand, but it was too late.

The first Empty reached him and attacked. Number 32 tried to fend the creature off, but then another Empty came, followed by another. The creatures swarmed him.

The last memory of Number 32 Gabriel would have was his hand reaching through a gap in the horde. Then it, too, disappeared.

Many in the crowd cheered while others either booed or were silent. Looks of surprise and awe covered their faces. Much of the crowd now shouted at Number 12. An opportunity had arisen for him. He eyed the fallen ax as patrons shouted “Go!” and “Grab it!”

Number 12 ran. He wobbled like a penguin, still holding his side. He seemed to have received a new-found energy with the lifeline he’d been thrown.

He made it to the ax without any of the Empties turning their focus away from the body of Number 32. Each was too busy trying to pull off the flesh of the fallen competitor.

The crowd went ballistic when Number 12 grabbed the ax.

Now armed, Number 12 looked even more mortified than before. Running was no longer an option. He was the only human alive on the field, and he’d have to take on these creatures by himself if he wanted to walk off. From the information Gabriel had gathered, if he failed to fight, he would die by the hands of humans.

Number 12 crept over toward the horde while the crowd continued to scream at him. Either by adrenaline or the sheer will to live, Number 12 swung the ax and connected with one of the creatures. The ax cut all the way through the back of its skull, shaving off the top of the Empty’s head. The creature fell to the ground, and the others lifted their heads from the carcass of Number 32.

Even from up in the stands and across the field, Gabriel could see the man shaking.

The ax fell from Number 12’s hands, and he turned and ran.

The crowd booed, yelling at him to “Stop being a pussy!” and to “Stand and fight!”

Again, the guards on the fence’s outer perimeter raised their weapons.

Number 12 made it to the chain link fence, the horde of Empties still halfway across the field. He held onto the fence and shook it, pleading to be let out. A guard on the other side pointed and yelled at him. Number 12 didn’t seem to be listening, as he continued to negotiate an exit from the sickening contest.

The guard turned away from Number 12 and looked up to the bleachers where Ambrose sat.

Ambrose, standing now, simply nodded to the guard.

The guard backed a few feet away from the fence and raised his weapon.

Number 12’s eyes went as wide as oranges. He turned and ran back toward the end zone near the field-house. The guard, having stuck the barrel of the rifle through a gap in the chain link, followed Number 12 in his sights. If Number 12 had been smart, he would’ve swerved, making himself a moving target. Instead, the guard fired, and the bullet bit into the remaining competitor’s calf like a rabid dog. Blood spewed from his leg, and he fell to the turf, face planting at about the twenty-five yard line.

Once again, the crowd cheered. Some even laughed.

One of those someones was Ambrose. Gabriel stared over at the gray haired man, who smiled from ear to ear and clapped. He looked down to the guard and gave him two thumbs up. The guard, as if he were nearing the end of a Broadway show, took a bow.

The horde snarled, lumbering toward the fallen competitor. Number 12 lay on the ground, holding the back of his leg and crying. Not just screaming came from him, but tears swimming down his face.

And as the horde reached him, Gabriel turned away.

The crowd erupted.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

For the rest of the short drive, everyone in the vehicle remained silent. The quiet remained until Karl pointed ahead and spoke.

“There,” he said. “That’s the landmark.”

Ahead was a two-way stop. Karl came to a complete stop and pointed to a tree that was a short distance away from the red sign.

In the middle of the tree were three words carved into the bark with a knife: ‘Come For Us’.

“Come for us?” Spencer asked, curious.

“God,” Charlie replied.

Spencer still looked confused.

“They are asking God to come for them. To get them out of this nightmare,” Charlie clarified.

Spencer sat back in his seat.

As Karl made a right turn, he said, “Should be not far down this road.”

He drove until he came to the entrance of a neighborhood. Much like the place Karl and Spencer had been staying, it was a gated community. The location was far enough off the beaten path to where few people would find it without knowing it was there. The road inclined, and at the top of the hill, they arrived at a gate.

“This is definitely it,” Karl said.

Two guards sat perched on makeshift crows’ nests to either end of the gate. One of the men held an assault rifle while the other appeared to only have a pistol.

“Stop,” a strong female voice called out. It came from a loudspeaker, and it hadn’t come from either of the guards stationed up high.

Karl brought the van to a complete stop, and Will looked around for the person speaking to them.

“Shut off your vehicle and throw your keys on the dashboard,” the voice said. “Then keep your hands on the wheel. Everyone else in the vehicle, please put your hands behind your head.”

“What is this?” Spencer asked, frustrated. “Where the hell did you bring us, Karl?”

“They’re just being cautious,” Will said, raising his hands to behind his head. “Now, just do as they ask.”

Karl turned the key in the ignition, killing the engine. He tossed the keys up on the dash, then set his hands on the wheel. Everyone else in the vehicle followed the instructions, placing their hands behind their heads. The guards up top kept their weapons fixed on the van, and the woman behind the voice still had yet to show herself.

On either side of the road, there was grass for about ten yards before a line of trees started. There’d been trees along the road for the entire drive, so these woods likely went back several hundred yards. Will heard a rustling, and looked over toward it.

Out of the trees walked a woman holding at her side a megaphone. Three men carrying heavier artillery appeared behind her. The woman wore a military style jacket, faded green with the front open, with a tattered thermal shirt underneath. She had a dark complexion with oily black hair and dark brown eyes. She approached the van with little hesitation or worry. Arriving at the passenger side front door, she opened it.

“Are you armed?” she asked Will.

“Yes,” Will said. “We all are.”

She looked Will up and down. He’d used a towel to wipe most of the blood and matter off of his face and from his hair, but his outfit was still covered in body fluid.

“What happened?”

“We had a run-in while on the way here,” Will said.

“Human?” she asked.

Will shook his head.

The woman scanned everyone else in the vehicle. Then she focused her attention to the rear compartment where the group had placed all the things they meant to barter.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“I met Adam while out on the road,” Karl said. “We met at a gas station. He gave me directions and said that you all would be willing to do some trading. We have a list of things we need, and we’ve come with items to trade.”

The woman glanced into each of their faces, not moving from her cold stare. The three guards behind her remained with their weapons crossed over their chests, not aimed at the van.

“We’ll need your ammo. You can keep the guns.”

Before Will could say anything, Spencer leaned into the front seat and said, “No way, man.”

“Shut up,” Karl yelled.

Taken back, Spencer faded into the back seat.

“Give them your ammunition,” Karl said, speaking to all three men in the car.

Will hesitated, trying to read the woman. She held a cold stare on Karl, but shifted it to Will.

Charlie handed both his and Spencer’s ammo through the window. Karl followed suit.

“Do it, Will,” Charlie said to Will.

Will sighed, and turned his bullets over to the woman.

Still staring at Will, the woman shouted, “Let them in.” She backed away from the van.

The gate opened, and Karl swiped the keys off the dash. The engine roared to life and he pulled forward through the entrance.

There was almost a quarter-mile stretch of pavement between the gate and any houses. The land leading into the neighborhood had once been decked out with beautiful landscaping, but flowers in the median had died off and the bushes along the curb were now unkempt.