The Darkness (13 page)

After
a long bout of silence, Murphy looked back at them. “Wait here,” he whispered then
quietly rolled to his belly and crawled forward. He moved out in front of the
truck and took a knee. He dropped his hand and signaled for Jacob to join him.
Jacob began crawling until he cleared the front bumper. Murphy pointed to a
small Volkswagen ahead on the left. Jacob nodded and, staying hunched over,
moved beside it to take a kneeling position.

He
heard a light clang of metal on metal and froze. Turning his head, he could see
that Murphy had heard it too. The soldier dropped and spun on his heels. He
lifted his rifle and took a step forward, looking high over a car to their
front. Rapid-fire shots rang out and the windshield of the delivery truck
exploded.

Murphy
returned fire, providing cover while Stephens rolled from under the vehicle and
let his weapon join the fight. “Get your rifle up, Jacob!” Murphy said.

Jacob
hesitated and looked around, searching for cover, as he witnessed the two
soldiers square off to the threat, weapons up, firing, and walking directly
into the enemy. Tyree was quickly on his feet and following close behind
Stephens, the pistol gripped tight by both hands while he fired ahead. Jacob
took a deep breath and stepped off before stopping again. “The bags,” he called
out, talking about the rucksacks at the back of the truck.

“Move
up, dammit!” Murphy ordered. “Leave them!”

Jacob
leveled his rifle and fired at the muzzle flashes coming from ahead. The dark
space under the bridge lit up like a field of fireflies. Jacob moved straight
on, facing them, ducking behind cars then aiming at the flashes before pulling
the trigger, finding a new target, moving, ducking, and firing again. While
they moved, the fireflies dimmed as their numbers dwindled. Soon, they were at
the entrance to the tunnel.

Murphy
held up an arm to pause the group before leaning back and resting against a
sedan as he changed out the magazine in his rifle. Jacob walked forward and
joined him, mimicking Murphy’s movements to reload his own rifle. A body
dressed in jeans and a casual T-shirt lay at his feet. The thing was holding a
black rifle with a synthetic stock and scope; its black eyes stared up. Murphy
kicked it with his boot and said, “Police issue.”

As
Murphy reached for the weapon, a rushing sound from behind caused him to pause.
The crunching of cars and the screaming of the mob in pursuit grew louder.
Murphy pulled his knife and crouched low to look under the rear of an abandoned
vehicle. He shoved the knife into the car’s fuel tank and rocked the blade
until fuel poured out onto the street.

“What
are you doing?” Jacob asked.

"Giving
us some time.” He pulled the blade from the tank and tossed a match to the
ground, the gasoline whooshing and flashing brightly as it ignited.

“Go,
Go, Go!” Murphy cried out, taking off at a sprint and leading the way into the
tunnel.

Chapter 17

Fire
blazed, casting orange-tinted light over the path ahead. Black smoke billowed and
rolled to the roof of the overpass above, catching the top and spilling
forward. Jacob could feel the heat at his back. He heard the sounds of tires
exploding, windows cracking, and sheet metal buckling under the extreme
temperature. He struggled to stay with Murphy who was running, dodging abandoned
cars, and leaping hoods like a world-class hurdler. Jacob picked up on the
sounds of the mob behind him and the steady rate of gunfire to his front.

Moving
through the smoke to the tunnel’s exit, he spotted Stephens kneeling against a
concrete wall; his rifle was already up taking aimed shots as he attempted to
suppress a small group moving toward them. Tyree stood over his shoulder with
both arms extended, firing Jacob’s pistol. Murphy closed in on the group as the
last of the things fell to their fire.

“How
much farther is it to the cemetery?” Jacob asked.

“It’s
just ahead, past the elevated platforms,” Tyree said, getting to his feet.

“Good,
we need to keep moving; the fire won’t hold them. It won’t be long before they
figure out they can go over the Skyway,” Murphy said, moving them out.

The
two-lane road ahead was strewn with rubble; bits of broken concrete covered the
abandoned cars, their windshields broken and pushed in. Buildings on both sides
of the road showed damage from the bombing. Murphy marched them ahead, hugging
the wall on the left side. Again, the road descended while it moved under the
elevated railway tracks. From a distance, the station and platforms appeared
abandoned. No trains, no movement. They patrolled through the area and
continued on to the empty void where the road opened back into a commercial
zone.

They
stopped at an empty intersection. Storefronts stood in ruins on all corners,
their faces a mess of shattered plate glass windows. Empty teargas canisters
and riot gear littered the ground. A knocked-over police barricade explained
the lack of abandoned vehicles ahead. The street to the left was scattered with
bodies, the buildings pockmarked from gunfire. Murphy surveyed the now empty
street before turning back to Tyree. “Where to now?”

“We
have to go another block up that way then we’ll see the cemetery wall on the
other corner, toward the lake,” Tyree said, pointing.

In
the direction Tyree pointed, gunfire raged, broken only by the sounds of
explosions. Occasionally, a group of unknown people would run down the street,
traveling right to left toward the heart of the city. A group of attack
helicopters flew low over the street, heading west at high speed to approach
the city center. Sounds of rockets and heavy machine guns rocked the ground. All
the while, human screams mixed with the howling of the Others.

Murphy
sat silently looking ahead, concern in his eyes. After a moment, he looked at
Tyree. “You sure there isn’t another way?”

“If
we go around, it’ll take us all night and keep us on the streets.”

Murphy
nodded thoughtfully and turned to Stephens but spoke so they all could hear.
“They’re up there. When we hit the wall, we have to get over it fast. We get
these two over first, then you, and I’ll go last.”

Stephens
nodded in agreement and flashed a thumbs up as Murphy turned so that he could
see into all of their faces. “We have to get to the wall; no stopping… if you
go down… get back up.” He pointed. “That is the kill box; we can’t stay in it!”

He
paused as a truck raced down the intersection to the north, the front end
swallowed in flames and the bed filled with the Others beating the cab. It
continued through the far intersection while racing away from the city.

Jacob
looked at the chaos in horror. Sounds of the things behind them grew closer
while gunfire and destruction lay ahead. “You sure about all of this?” he
gasped.

Murphy
shook his head. “This city is lost and we’re in the middle of it. We have to
get out now or not at all. Hug the storefronts; at the last corner, we sprint
for the wall. Stay behind me, shoot anything that isn’t us, and
do not stop
!”
He reached out a hand and squeezed Stephens’ shoulder before taking off to
cross the street, running with his head down and rifle up. He briefly looked
left down the near street then pushed ahead, crossing the intersection.

Stephens
nudged Jacob in the back and told him to move. Jacob stepped off fast, running
to keep pace with the Murphy. Still a hundred yards to the next block, he could
already see the orange glow of fires and the blue smoke of gunfire. A pack of
the Others cut across the street ahead; three continued across to move deeper
into the city, the fourth stopped and looked in Jacob’s direction, catching the
attention of the fifth.

The
pair turned and took a step in Jacob’s direction. Before Jacob could call out a
warning, Murphy had his rifle in action, firing at the one to the left as it
moved toward them. Jacob took a step to the side and used a lamp pole to steady
his aim then pulled the trigger and watched the man on the right drop. Jacob
hit him in the chest—right where he was aiming. Grinning, he looked to Murphy
for recognition. Stephens came up behind and smacked him. “Don’t stop running!
Go!” he yelled.

Jacob
cringed, realizing his error as the first three came back into view. After
having seen the fate of their comrades, they charged around the corner. Two
shots from Murphy and a stream of three rounds from Stephens cleared the route.
Tyree ran ahead and planted himself on the corner. He pointed across the street
to a tall, nearly eight-foot high, concrete wall offset from a wide sidewalk.
Murphy nodded and rounded the corner. Taking a knee, he fired rapidly, drawing
more to his position. “Get them over,” he shouted without taking his eye off
the sights and the distant targets.

“You
heard him… go!” Stephens yelled moving Jacob and Tyree ahead of him.

Jacob
took a deep breath and ran into the street. He looked straight ahead to avoid
the sight of danger to his left. He crossed the street and, recalling the last
incident, deliberately threw himself at the wall, then turned away as Tyree
came up behind. In a flash, Stephens was beside him; he knelt over and cupped
his hands and Tyree stepped into the pocket. Grunting, Stephens lifted and
nearly tossed Tyree over the top. Rounds impacted with the ground around them,
popping as they skipped off the sidewalk.

Ignoring
the incoming fire, Stephens again cupped his hands and looked to Jacob, who
nodded and put a hand on the soldier’s helmet. Another grunt and Jacob was
elevated upwards. He grabbed the top of the wall and pulled as Stephens pushed
at the soles of his boots. Jacob strained and pulled until he was able to throw
his leg over the top of the wall. Now straddling the wall, he looked out and
saw a group of three charging from behind. Recognizing the danger, his eyes
went wide. He raised his rifle and fired wildly, hitting two of the Others
running toward their position. The third continued on and crashed into
Stephens.

Jacob
twisted on the wall, trying to get a new firing position and lost his balance.
He flopped and tumbled off, landing on his head and shoulders into a thicket
bush on the other side. In the dark, he couldn’t see but he felt hands grabbing
at his clothing. Jacob lashed out with his fists swinging and feet kicking
against the hands.

“Dammit!
It’s me. Stop, you asshole!” he heard Tyree yell.

Jacob
pulled back his hands and felt a wrist grip his ankle. He was yanked from the
bush, the thorns catching and tearing at his clothing and scratching the skin
underneath. He dropped from the bush to land on his face and his mouth grabbed
a taste of grass and dirt. He crawled away from the bush, rolled to his back, and
looked up at the top of the concrete wall.

The
top edge seemed to glow and reverberate with the explosions on the other side.
A gloved hand reached up and grabbed the edge just before Stephens’ helmet came
into view. He climbed up and lay flat on the wall, gripping the top edge with
his right arm as he dangled over the far side. Jacob watched the man strain as
he pulled, and Murphy came into view before clawing and crawling directly over
Stephens and tumbling into the same thorn bush. Stephens pushed up off the
wall, dropped his legs, then fell the remaining distance to the ground and
landed on his feet.

Stephens
moved off from the wall and took up a spot a distance away to watch for trouble
while Jacob and Tyree pulled Murphy from the bush. Once free of the entanglement,
Murphy shook them off and motioned for them to watch the area. Unlike the
violent activity on the city side of the wall, the cemetery side was still.
They’d dropped in just short of a well-maintained walkway where heavy smoke
blanketed the ground, just thin enough to reveal a number of crypts,
tombstones, and monuments dotting the wooded terrain.

“We
clear?” Murphy whispered as he exchanged magazines in his rifle.

“I
can’t see shit in this smoke,” Stephens called back in a low voice.

“Tyree…
which way?” Murphy asked.

Tyree
pointed with the pistol. Murphy put down his goggles and scanned the terrain,
then lifted them to look at his watch. “Couple hours till dawn; let’s get through
here while we have cover.”

Jacob
pulled his rifle in close to the vest and willed himself up to his feet. The
gunfire and explosions still echoed off the wall to their backs, and the fires
cast an eerie light that made the smoke seem luminescent. The tall tombstones
and monuments cast optical illusions as their shadows moved in different
directions with the strobes of the explosions. Jacob shivered but, knowing he
had to stick with the team or he’d never find Laura and Katy, he urged his feet
to move.

He
cautiously stepped ahead until he was with the rest of the group. Again, Murphy
directed Stephens out front and took the open side while keeping Jacob and
Tyrell close to the wall on the opposite side.

They
moved ahead slowly, creeping through the acrid smoke. Jacob pulled his T-shirt
over his mouth and nose to block the stench. Gunfire raged close; the rounds
cracked off the walls as aircraft flew over, attacking the city with their
payloads.

Murphy
called out just above a whisper, “Come on guys. Don’t bunch up.”

The
team intended to stay spread out but continually grouped back together out of
fear. Nearly shoulder to shoulder, they patrolled deeper into the graveyard;
the dancing shadows and gunshots echoed off the tombstone, making it hard to
focus.

They
met a blacktop path and quickly crossed it, not wanting to stop in the open.
The terrain sloped down on the far side, where it gradually leveled out as it
met a small pond. Stephens moved ahead then suddenly dropped to the ground;
without question, the others fell with him. Murphy low crawled past Jacob until
he was at Stephens’ side. Jacob squinted and strained his eyes to see ahead. Then,
with the flash of an explosion, a large crowd of figures were outlined where
they gathered around the opposite shore of the pond—hundreds of them standing
in a tight cluster.

“What
are they doing?” Jacob whispered.

With
a focused expression on his face, Murphy didn’t answer. Jacob crawled forward
with Tyree toward the high grass and cattails that lined the shore, stopping when
they were online with the rest of the team. The more he looked, the more his
eyes adjusted to the light and Jacob saw that it wasn’t just a mob; all around
the edges, there were more solitary figures. Looking closer, their posture
revealed that they were armed and appeared to be standing guard over the Others.
The group made noise and backed away to create a long opening for a group of
men that ran through the gap carrying bodies to the water line.

The
unconscious victims were dropped at the bank of the pond and their heads were
submerged. All at once, the men huddled in the dark realized what they were
seeing. The shoreline was awash with the bodies; only their legs— or just feet
in some cases—were exposed. Occasionally, one would kick and spasm, inducing a
random hand from the crowd to reach down and pull the body from the water. The
others would hold it upright until it could stand on its own. The newly removed
thing would drift away from the pack under the watchful eyes of the sentries,
stumbling around drunkenly like a new calf learning to walk.

Jacob
watched as the new ones were guided to the outer edges, their stride slowly
improving over a short span of time. Then they would move back to the mob and
merge with it, becoming lost in the mass. Groups would break off and move away
from the mass and out of sight as others returned, carrying more victims. The
swarm again opened up to accept them and provided a path to the water line as the
cycle continued.

“Fuck
me… look at the water,” Tyree muttered.

Jacob
lowered his view to the dark surface of the pond only feet away. The moon’s
refection barely broke through the smoke to allow the blue steel ball to
reflect light back. The closer they looked, the more the opaque liquid seemed
to have motion. It swirled and turned over while the surface remained static.
Unlike water, the upper layer appeared thick and dense to resemble the look of
oil—the same as the blood spilt from the things on the street.