Fall of Hope (Book 1): Real Heroes Don't Wear Capes (50 page)

Gunner
shakes his head and glances sideways at Blackout. He is fully locked
on the enemy before them with the scissors poised ready for attack.

Gripping
harder on the knife, he tries not to see Alanna as he found her.
Despite the situation, his tongue lodges against his palette and the
need for a drink comes fast and hard.

The
objective is to take all three out as effortlessly as possible,
taking them by surprise. Closing in, Blackout looks for approval and
receives a nod. Shards of glass grind beneath his boot and the scowl
imprinted on his face says it all.

Within
a second, the figure in front turns with its suspicions roused.
Blackout plunges the scissors through the weakened and virus stained
skin until the sharp edges poke out the other side.

The
figure groans, but Forrest barely hears it as he plunges the blade
into the crumbling skull his side with force. Grabbing the thinning
hair at the back of its scalp, he yanks its head back. He pulls the
knife free, spilling blood and chunks of brain and skull out on the
shiny surface. Judging by the ease the blade penetrates, they turned
a lot further in the past than today.

That's
not possible.

As
the body slumps onto the floor like a
sack of shit
, Forrest
turns his attention to the middle figure as Blackout fights the
wriggling body impaled on the sharp implement. The whites of its eyes
are overtaken by sprouting red veins which are on the verge of being
black. Whatever the strain of virus that has taken hold, these
figures are no longer human.

This
is real life as far as the pair know, therefore, they have no qualms
with what happens next. Under other circumstances, it could only
happen in a B horror movie, or game. But this is also a game, despite
all their beliefs.

As
Blackout struggles, slamming the lively body against the wall, he
yanks the handles wide. The scissors open through tissue to create a
gaping hole where darkened blood spills free. Through the wound, the
figure gargles, shooting blood over Blackout's face and jumper.
Closing his lips tight against the penetration, he toggles with the
scissors and opens them wider. He feels the snap of the handles as
the skin detaches, separating body from head. The head topples
against its back, exposing the inside of its neck before it twitches.

Forrest's
gaze fixates on the spitting blood and, for a moment, a thought tugs
at the back of his mind. That thought seems as thin as his existence
does within the corridor. He is no expert, but the reanimated corpses
they managed to get their hands on in Shield City still bled—they
were dead less than an half an hour though. Although these guys
surely must be too, they have the appearance of longer decay with
their tissue receding to exposing their jaws. Their top halves have
lost muscle and are riddled with a greyish colouration.

The
guy wavering between them is wearing combat shorts and Gunner can
tell, even in the poor light, that his limbs are discoloured and
swollen. Gravity is pulling the blood flow south, leaving them as
nothing much more than walking bones.

So
if livor mortis has set in, should they still be bleeding?

Everything
he is seeing contradicts what he learned as though these are merely a
mix of effects without logic for entertainment value.

Who's
entertainment though?

“
Gunner!”

Allowing
the present to seep back in, Forrest grabs the figure in the combats
by the collar. Yet, his grip is not enough to keep its callous and
lumpy hand from grasping Blackout by his muscular arm.

Pulled
off balance, Blackout drops the scissors. The impaled figure plunges
straight to the floor where it sprawls over its own liquid.

He
doesn't have time to acknowledge the touch as the figure lunges its
upper body toward him. Forrest should have killed him already, he
would have before being in that place, that is for sure. Blackout
flinches from it, but doesn't have the space against the wall to
dodge the saliva spilling jaws. Blackout gets his knee up to block
them from sinking them in, but it is not enough as it overpowers his
leg. A grunt escapes his lips as he continues to fight off the
looming figure. He can hear Forrest growling words, but they are
intangible as the warmth hits his neck.

This
figure's lips have rotted away to reveal raw, burning gums with a
dark sheen over its stained teeth. The skin cracks and he can almost
hear the separation over his screams that echo from wall to wall.

“
No!”

As
soon as they have sunk in and warmth trickles down his skin, the
pressure is yanked away, pulling a chunk of his flesh with it. It is
still lodged within its chomping jaws as Gunner grabs its uneven head
within both hands and twists, breaking its neck with a soft double
click. Then the body tumbles against his feet.

Hand
to his neck, Blackout can hear his partner's rushed apologises
dressed in a deep sorrow as he grabs at him.

“
Stay
back!”

“
No,
come here. We have to stop the bleeding.”

Blackout
pushes at the weight on top of him, grasping at Gunner's clothes. The
fight is nothing but the weak efforts of a child holding out its hand
to prevent an oncoming car. And the fear in Blackout's eyes is too
clear as his eyes fling wide. They contain far too much realisation
of what is happening as his fingers spasm, but he cannot control
them.

Forrest
peers around the next corner where he spots a bunch of swaying limbs.
The screams have alerted the closest monsters to turn their heads
with their mouths hanging slack.

“
Oh,
shit,” he grunts.

Soon
I'll have Coban to contend with too, and I'm not sure I can do what
needs to doing. Not again.

Forrest
pulls his friend away from the bodies sprawled across the floor and
the horde he has awoken. He hooks his arm across his back and drags
him part way down the hallway, ignoring the inhuman wailing close by.
There's far too many for him to take.

“
More
are coming, leave me. I'm done for, we both know it.”

Ignoring
his mate, Gunner settles him against the wall, letting him fall to
his ass and grip his neck. Yet, it does no good as the blood soaks
out from beneath his fingers.

Gunner
yanks his t-shirt off, scrunches the material up and tells Coban to
move his hand, but he resists.

“
Listen,
Forrest—”

“
No,
we're not doing this, you hear me! You'll be fine, now just move your
hands before I do it for you.”

The
hand drops into his lap with a lifeless thud, allowing Gunner to
apply pressure. Blackout yelps and bares his teeth in disgust as the
material settles on the wound.

Without
warning, the gloom banishes away inside the corridor. Blackout
squints, and all he can think is this must be what they talk about
when dying—the blinding light when heaven summons a spirit. He
never believed in heaven and God—it is far too difficult to
after seeing the things he has over the years—but right now, it
feels great. The warmth the light brings is comforting and, more than
anything, he longs to bathe within its glow.

What
the hell is that?

Gunner
glances at the glowing light with his eyes squinted. The otherworldly
sensation is gives off sets his insides ablaze and drives shivers
from his heated core.

“
Come
on, just hold on a little longer. We're both getting outta here, you
hear? Coban?”

Forrest
tries not to engage the darkness swamping the whites of his mate's
eyes and sucking away the colour in his irises.

Not
again. Please not again.

Facing
away, but keeping the pressure on his mate's neck, his eyes find the
figures at the bend. Up against the wall, the bright light casts many
shadows up towards the ceiling. Within the mass of figures, eyes
filled with nothing but emptiness glare outwards. Their vague stares
crawl over Gunner like thousands of hungry insects nibbling holes
through his being.

Through
the opening they have not long left, a familiar figure stumbles out
before the oncoming horde. Forrest stares in disbelief for a second
before he can gain his wits.

It's
the girl from the bathroom.

Only,
when she twists her face upwards with a rigid movement, he can see
she no longer shares anything in common with the vibrant girl she
was.

How's
that even possible? I stabbed her in the bloody head.

Her
eyes have lost all meaning and are now clouded with a vacant
expression he has no time to express sorrow, or pity over as she
moves toward them in jagged jerks. One bare foot is crooked, so she
has no option but to drag it behind her like a burden.

“
We
have to move, now,” Gunner whispers to his mate as the solid
form beneath his grasp slumps sideways.

Fuck.
This isn't happening.

With
the build-up of guilt and denial, Forrest bends. He struggles to pull
the body up by hooking his arm back around him and gripping him by
the waist.

“
Come
on, help me out, mate.”

“
Leave
. . . light . . .”

As
he drags Coban across the floor, he laughs with no humour at hearing
his mate's voice still trying to talk. Even over the rushing feet and
grinding glass headed their way, his laughter carries. In seconds,
they will both be
fucked
, but leaving a man behind is not an
option, especially Blackout.

“
I'm
sorry for everything, you hear me? If you stay alive just a little
longer . . .”

His
mate's face rolls on his neck. Dark veins stretch over the skin from
the open wound and all the way to his cheeks. His skin has lost all
its normal colour. Not only from the handsome, tanned face he
remembers shouting into on many occasions, but from his eyes too.

“
Coban?”

Pressing
Coban up against the wall next to the glowing light, Gunner holds him
in place. He glances over him to the bodies tripping and stumbling
forward at pace with bloodied saliva spewing from torn and hanging
maws. There is no time for this, but the light beckons him inside,
however impossible that seems.

“
Come,
come now before all is lost,” the light demands in a calm and
collected tone.

For
a second, Gunner believes Elise is summoning him to the other side.
As he runs his finger along the glowing slit, the heated pull sucks
at his skin, tempting him to enter.

The
girl from the bathroom opens her mouth with a squelching hiss, then
lunges at them without consideration for her foot.

With
no time to contemplate what awaits them, he grabs Coban and pulls him
inside with him, leaving the bodies behind them empty-handed. As he
becomes immersed within the light, Blackout's features twist into an
open scowl of bared, saliva coated teeth. Before Gunner can
understand he is gone, the dark-haired figure lunges at him.

As
they plunge into the light, the soft grip becomes extended nails that
dig at Gunner's flesh. His vision fades, but he can still feel the
elevated breathing of the open maw snapping at his face before the
light steals everything and sucks them into the unknown.