Authors: Nate Southard
“What about Sweeny, man? You know he’s gonna come for you.”
“Let him. I want to kill that cracka myself.”
***
Maggot stumbled forward as Officer Nicholas shoved him from behind. His ankles twisted together, and he lost his balance, crashing to the cell’s concrete floor. His chin cracked against the ground, sending a scorching lance of pain through his head. He rubbed his chin, and his hand came away streaked with blood.
Behind him, he heard Officer Nicholas laugh.
“Enjoy that landing, faggot? There’s more pain where that came from.”
Maggot pushed himself up to his hands and knees and looked around at the small cell. The cruel guard had taken him to solitary, and even now closed the cell door behind him. His smile made Maggot’s skin crawl.
“Nobody’s going to bother us here,” Nicholas said. “We can make all the noise we want, and nobody’s gonna give a damn. As of this moment, Maggot, your ass belongs to me.”
Maggot kept his head bowed slightly, yet still looked up at Nicholas.
“Please. Do not do anything to me.”
The guard’s nightstick came out of nowhere to crack across his mouth. Pain erupted through his face and head, and he heard the soft tinkling sounds of his teeth scattering across the floor. His mouth hanging open, blood seeping past his lips, he tongued his gums, felt the broken stumps of teeth and the empty cavities were they had been knocked out completely. The pain took over his entire world, and tears poured down his face like rainwater from a gutter.
“I’ll do what I want, Maggot, and you’ll do what I tell you.” Nicholas was unbuttoning his pants, pulling down his zipper. His smile appeared cruel even through Maggot’s tear-blurred eyes.
“Right now,” the guard said, “I want you to keep that mouth open for me.”
***
Father Albright returned to Unit B in his full vestments. A flowing white robe obscured his physique. A red and gold stole hung from his shoulders, a silver crucifix dangling on a chain between. He carried his rosary in one hand. Now that he wore the outfit, he felt a new sense of confidence, like a knight after strapping on his armor or Superman after exiting a phone booth. He looked out on the men of Unit B and saw a growing confidence in them as well. Morrow smiled, and Darren nodded in return.
The cellblock fell silent around him. The air felt still, heavy. He could sense the eyes on him--the anticipation--and it charged him even further. As the presence of God filled him with strength, he cleared his throat.
“Let us pray.”
The inmates bowed their heads as one. For Darren, the simple movement packed the power of a dozen suns. It nearly stole his breath. He closed his eyes and spoke.
“Lord, we ask for Your blessing and protection in this hour. May these men be kept safe through this trial, and may we all see Your will be done.” He drew in a breath, feeling power burn deep within him.
“Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour--”
The first scream stopped him cold.
Seven
Close to fifty men stood outside the storage closet. They waited in the hallway, most of them huddled near the tiny room’s doorway. When they first heard the quick scraping and shuffling sounds of the monsters charging toward the tunnel’s entrance, most of them rushed forward, spurred on by adrenaline and a mad sense of confidence. A few backed away or even ran, and that was the only thing that saved them. Those who pressed in close soon found themselves helpless, pinned by those behind them. The group shoved forward, all but presenting the helpless few in front to the first creatures that sprang free of the tunnel.
The terrified men tried to raise their arms to defend themselves--tried to brandish the wooden stakes they’d been given--only to find their arms pinned to their sides by the compressed surroundings. Helpless, they stared, screaming, as the first of the vampires leapt free of the ground and laid into them.
It slashed a Sicilian across the throat, spraying a fan of arterial blood across the closet’s drab walls. The man collapsed, unable to even place a hand to his gurgling throat, but the crushing pressure from behind kept him pinned against the wall.
A second man, this one snarling through a two-day growth of beard, squeezed into the closet and stabbed downward with his stake. The creature, its pale and dirt-streaked skin peeled tight over its hungry features, grabbed his arm with both hands and snapped it like dry kindling. A horrible, splintering sound echoed through the tiny space in the split second before the man’s screams took over the world. The stake fell from his limp hand, clattering on the ground even as a second vampire crawled free of the tunnel. Teeth clamped into the screaming man’s throat and tore it open, stealing his voice as his blood spurting into a cold and foul mouth.
Still, the men pressed into the cramped space. The first touches of panic had taken hold, overriding their brains and forcing them to keep moving. As screams and warcries mingled, the cons pressed against the closet as a single, terrified throng of flesh, and the monsters met them eagerly. Talons tore through tissue and organs and blood vessels. Teeth ripped throats open, and dead tongues explored the ruined cavities beyond. The creatures cut a swath through them, the way growing easier as more men came to their senses and ran like hell. Soon, the bodies of the dead and dying, as well as a few bodies that would soon rise again, littered the hallway.
A gangbanger called Cee fell last. He stood at the end of the hallway, shaking and fighting to keep himself from screaming. In one trembling fist, he held a wooden stake he’d picked up after a fleeing inmate had dropped it. It felt cold and slick in his hand, but he gripped it tightly just the same. He watched the monsters charge him, almost ten of them by this point, and at the last moment he shoved his fear aside and launched himself at the closest creature. Screeching, he thrust the stake forward and felt it punch through flesh and crash past ribs. The monster howled, grabbing the wooden weapon with both hands, and then fell over, black blood pluming from its heart. Cee let out a cry of celebration, but then two more monsters fell on him, their teeth finding the soft flesh of his throat and cutting the cry short.
***
The monsters hit Unit B like a tidal wave of hunger and rage. Darren heard the first snarls as the creatures approached. Their death stink followed and then seven of the undead charged out of the hallway and onto the floor. The inmates surged forward, meeting the attack despite the screams of terror that filled the room, and the two sides clashed in the middle like walls of living force.
He saw a gout of blood shoot through the air, and a limp body followed it. The sick sounds of tearing flesh and snapping bones rose to fill the block, and still the inmates battled against the monsters. Roars from both sides melted together into a single cry of violence, a deafening sound like the rolling of thunder.
***
Somebody lit a single match and touched it to the rest of the book. Flame popped in his hand, and he tossed the fireball onto the pile of mattresses, magazines, and paper. A pillar of flame erupted in the center of Unit B, casting heat and shadows over the area.
The battle continued.
***
In the thick of it all, Rocha waded through the men around him, struggling for every inch of ground. The sudden heat of the bonfire pressed against his back, pushing him forward. A hand grabbed his shoulder and wrenched him back as another inmate clawed to get ahead of him. His legs twisted, sending him crashing to the floor. A heavy foot came down on his chest and disappeared. Another stomped on his gut as prisoners and guards alike rushed past him. He cried out, the pain in his body making his arms and legs go limp. Somebody stepped on his elbow, and he felt the joint separate. He started to let out another scream, but a boot clipped his temple as its owner charged past. His vision dimmed, but then a burst of stars brightened the darkness.
He finally began to curl himself into a defensive ball, his entire body singing with pain, and then hands found him, big hands that grabbed his shoulders and yanked him off of the floor as easily as a scrap of litter. He felt himself hang suspended for a second. Then, his legs uncoiled and he found himself standing. He wobbled on his feet, and a hand flashed across his face. The slap brought him out of his stupor like a bucket of ice water.
“You okay?” Tree asked.
Rocha nodded. His jaw didn’t feel like it was ready to work yet.
“Good,” the giant said. An instant later the big man was gone, fighting his way to the front of the line.
Rocha hesitated a moment. Almost the entire pack was in front of him now, leaving his stranded in the rear, forgotten. He could he hear the screaming over the cheers of the inmates, but he couldn’t see anything but the backs of other men. Hugging his injured arm tight to his chest, he staggered backwards a single step. A second wave of rage swept through him, and he pressed forward once more.
Then something flew over the crowd, drawing his eyes upward. He couldn’t make any sense of it at first, but then he realized the thing in the air wasn’t flying but leaping. A second before he saw the monstrous face, he recognized the torn and filthy guard’s uniform. He followed the monster as it sailed over his head and landed in a predatory crouch behind him.
Rocha whirled to face the creature, as did a few other inmates around him, but the monster was already charging. He went to raise his weapon and found it was gone. Staring at his empty hand, he realized he must have dropped it when he was being trampled. He raised both arms to defend himself, despite the agony in his elbow, but the creature was already on him. Hot slices of pain drew screams from him as the vampire’s talons ripped at his skin, and his screams fell silent when he felt the sharp stab of agony as the creature bit into his neck. The world grew dark as a ball of cold nestled in his throat and began to spread.
Rocha felt the monster drink him, the suction at his wound incredible, and then the vampire was gone. He looked around, trying to see anything through the dark haze that clouded his vision, and found three men--two gangbangers and a Mexican--fighting the creature. The bangers slammed the bloodsucker against a cell’s bars, and the Mexican--was it Ramirez? --plunged a wooden stake into the beast’s heart. The vampire let out a terrible cry and pitched forward, landing limp on the floor, the stake punching through its back.
Rocha smiled, then collapsed and died.
***
Diggs threw himself at the monsters without a second thought, his stake plunging deep into the heart of the first creature he saw. He wrenched the weapon free as the vampire fell backward, clutching the pumping hole in its chest, and used it to slap the next creature across the face. The thing hissed at him through bared teeth, and he darted in, slamming his fist into its nose. The bloodsucker grabbed his arm, yanking him off balance, and came at him fangs bared. Diggs grabbed his stake with both hands and thrust it under the monster’s jaw. The vampire’s teeth clacked together inches from his face, and Diggs got a good whiff of its breath, dirty and stale.
“You awful fuck!”
Diggs shoved the creature back, ignoring the cuts it tore in his arms and torso, and let out a roar. The vampire cried back at him, screeching like a broken siren. It lurched forward, buckling his arms, and again its fangs slammed shut inches from their goal. He looked into the vampire’s eyes, refusing to turn away. If this thing was going to kill him, he’d make sure it knew him first. The vampire darted forward again, but a booted foot came out of nowhere and cracked against its temple, snapping its head to the side and sending it tumbling away. He saw the monster writhe on the ground, its head bent at a strange angle, and then he saw Tree rush past to continue his attack.
He clambered to his feet and waded in again.
***
Darren saw the first vampire leap over the crowd and kill Rocha, saw the trio of men pin it down and exterminate it. A second later, another creature sailed over the sea of bodies. It landed and leapt again, and Darren watched in awe as it came down on the third floor landing. The men up there were scattered, largely unarmed, yet several still attacked the monster.
Darren froze for an instant as he saw the vampire drink one prisoner, then another. It cast the dead man aside and grabbed a third, and Darren came to his senses and left the guard station. He dashed to the staircase and started up, calling out to the men who waited nearby with buckets of holy water.
“Up one more! There’s one up there! Move!”
The two closest convicts grabbed their buckets and started up the stairs, trying to look ahead to see where the hell the monster had gone. Darren continued his charge, his feet ringing like hammers on the metal steps. He reached the second floor and kept climbing, just as one of the men he’d sent ahead came sailing over the railing to die on the concrete below. Sparing a single glimpse at the man’s twisted and bleeding body, he raced up the remainder of the flight, clutching a stake in one hand and his rosary in the other.
When he reached the landing, he found the monster fifteen feet away from the staircase, standing amidst at least six dead bodies and facing off with a final man. He saw an overturned bucket nearby, its contents running over the walkway’s edge. The second bucket sat in the remaining inmate’s hands. Snarling, the monster charged in, and the man tossed the water, hitting the creature full in the face. The thing’s scream was terrible, a wail of never-ending pain and misery, and the stench hit Darren almost immediately, a smell like burning garbage and feces. The vampire clawed at its own smoking, bubbling face. It had lost all of its instincts in a single, painful instant. It stumbled near the railing, and Darren rushed over to help the inmate. Together they shoved at the creature, and it tumbled over the side. Darren watched it fall two stories to the ground below, where it burst like a gore-filled balloon upon landing.