Running With The Horde (Book 2): Delusions of Monsters (23 page)

Maybe its only minutes later he wakes up from his concussion induced nap on the cavern floor beneath the sewer or maybe its hours. By this time it is dark outside so no light pours through the manhole cover. He is alone in the dark. It is cold, there is intense pain from his cracked skull and his shattered femur. He cries out once but the pain is massive like someone is trying to rip his head open. He will not cry out again.

I tore my gaze away from Grover’s cracked head and silently chided myself for daydreaming. There really wasn’t time for that. My silly theories regarding what had led him to his demise were nothing more than that, silly theories. A big old sturdy set of keys poked out from beneath his body. I snagged them and put them in my pocket. I knew I could safely assume nobody had been in the sewers above for quite a long time. After all, nobody had found Grover. Therefore there was a chance his keys would still work if I encountered any locked doors.

“Rest in peace, Grover.” I said.

I tossed a handful of dirt on his bones before I moved on. It was closest he would ever come to a proper burial. Light was no longer a concern as the ceiling as far as I could see was riddled here and there with holes allowing ambient light from the sewer above to poke through.

A few more twists and turns, peaks and valleys and then the floor evened out. It continued on more or less straight for another hundred paces, the dirt and stone turned to cement and became a gradual incline. The earthen tunnel became a proper manmade square construct with crisp angles albeit old and grimy like everything else I’d seen so far.

At last I came to a large rusty steel door that would have looked at home in a depression-era bank. Of course it was locked. Moreover it was likely also held in place by the cruel shifting sands of time. I knocked as loud as I could, waited a while and then tried several more times. It was a long shot but I had to try it. Nobody came to answer the door.

I pulled out the keys and briefly looked through them but none looked even remotely right. The door lock was seriously old school. After trying to yank the door open for several minutes to no avail I walked back to where I left Grover and sat down to rest. I reviewed my options which were few. I could try blowing the lock with the gun. I could go back to the cave-in and try climbing into the sewer tunnel. Or I could go back the way I’d come to the other side of the river.

The last option really seemed like a non-starter, I wasn’t going back. The second choice was near to impossible as I had nothing to climb with. That left me with the gun option.

I grabbed the barrel and eased it out of my homemade pack and then unburdened myself from the ammo sling as well, laying it gently on the cement floor. The gun was bulky and heavy. I had to sit on the ground to study it for a moment. I located the selector switch and shifted it to full auto. I got up and moved toward the door not sure how close I should be. The weapon didn’t have much in the way of sights. I stopped about thirty paces away with visions of ricocheting bullets running through my head and brought the stock up to my shoulder. I had come to the moment of truth for my antique weapon. It would either fire or it wouldn’t.

From my television training I remembered the importance of breathing and squeezing the trigger as opposed to just yanking on it. I exhaled as I let my finger slowly tighten on the trigger. Nothing happened. Not even a click. I went back down to a knee and examined the gun again. This time I noticed the safety lever. I cussed and chuckled to myself before thumbing it over to the fire position. Feeling properly sheepish, I stood back up and reassumed my stance. Same drill, stock snug on my right shoulder, slow exhale, finger gently squeezing the trigger.

As luck would have it two very unfortunate things happened simultaneously as I pulled the trigger. The door opened wide as someone on the other side delivered one hell of a kick to it and the tommy-gun fired like it had just come off the assembly line. I learned a couple of valuable lessons about tommy-guns that day. The first was that they kick like a goddamn mule and have a tendency to climb when fired on full auto. The second is that they pretty much eviscerate anything in their path.

It was over in an instant. I had no control and I couldn’t stop. Once I pulled that trigger it was like the gun had a mind of its own. The images of those awful three seconds are still seared into my mind. The incredible noise and power of the weapon as it zippered an instant trail of red up a total stranger’s torso before annihilating his face into an amber cloud of mist. The repeated click of the empty drum as my finger continued firing and the screaming of a woman and a child.

The man’s ruined body took two involuntary steps backward before it toppled over. I couldn’t see anyone else for the moment. The screaming voices were at least smart enough to stay out of sight not knowing what sort maniac had just murdered their companion. For my part I continued standing where I was, transfixed but what I’d just done, horror just beginning to seep in.

“Shit!” I said as I snapped out of it. I thought about calling out that it was an accident but I didn’t know who these people were. Odds of them forgiving and forgetting were not very good and I wasn’t ready to be killed by an angry mob. It was better if they thought me a monster for the time being. Tearful explanations and contrition could come later if any of us survived.

I grabbed my ammo sling and did a full sprint back to Grover, metal jangling away. I cut my hands in two places trying to change the cartridge over to a fresh one. I made myself calm down and do it slower until I was able to get the spent one off and reload the weapon. I swung the sling back around my shoulder, hefted up the gun and began a slow trot back toward the door.

As I drew closer I could see the door had swung mostly shut again but was still about a foot open. It was closed just enough so I couldn’t see what was on the other side. I hustled the rest of the way and yanked the door open, ready to shoot anyone that moved. The room beyond was a gloomy hallway and it was empty with my metal door situated at its end.

The corpse had been moved. A trail of blood marked a path along the hallway disappearing around a corner about halfway down the hall at a tee junction. Someone had a serious set of balls to risk retrieving the body without knowing how many people and guns waited on the other side of the door. This was definitely someone for me to be concerned about.

The way seemed clear of obstacles or traps. Dim emergency lighting and the blood trail would guide my way. I started following the blood doing my best to minimize the noise all my gear was making. Keeping my back to the wall of the hallway I passed under the safety lights, my shadow shifting and darting in front of me as I walked. At the corner I stopped to listen and heard what sounded like a winded person dragging a body. I took a peek around the corner and saw that it was a woman dragging the corpse down another long hallway.

She appeared to be alone. I had no desire to approach her or see the body of the man I’d accidentally killed but I didn’t see that I had any other choice. I needed to know who they were and why in the hell they were hanging out in this abandoned basement above the sewer.

I stepped around the corner at a leisurely stroll to project what I hoped was a friendly demeanor. Instead I think it made me look psychotic but I was just guessing based on the look of terror I saw on the woman’s dirty, tear-streaked face when she looked up from her grisly task. “Stay away!” she screamed. “Keep away, you fucker!”

“I didn’t mean to do it,” I called back as gently as I could. I picked up the pace passing more doors, bullets jangling away in my pockets like I was some kind of defective robot. I was in a hurry to reach her with the pressing need of explaining myself. I wanted to say I was sorry and beg forgiveness, I was desperate for it. I really wanted her to understand that I didn’t mean to shoot the man. I needed her to understand I was just trying to get out of the tunnel and I really wasn’t a bad guy. For these reasons I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings the way I should’ve been. I didn’t see the group of men quietly exit the doors I had just passed. I didn’t hear them approach me from behind but I did notice the sudden change that had come over the woman’s face. She went from a look of rage and fear to Christmas morning delight in only a moment.

That should have been a red flag for me considering what I’d only recently done to the man she was dragging but instead I thought about what a dramatic transformation the smile gave her face. She was really quite pretty. At that point I was tackled from behind by at least two men. A strong arm yanked the rifle toward the ground as one of them pile drove me into the wall. The gun didn’t go off which was probably for the best. I slammed into the wall and slid to the ground as the men proceeded to give me a beating. All things considered it felt kind of half-hearted as I closed my eyes and laid in the fetal position. They were finished after a few kicks and maybe a punch or two. Most of the kicks landed harmlessly on the pack of ammo that was on my back.

The men were breathing heavy like they were winded. Someone was cursing and someone was weeping, it sounded like the woman. I eased my eyes open and peered at them through my fingers. There was a man immediately in front of me, hands on his knees out of breath. The top of his balding head reflected the artificial light from the ceiling. Another man stood over me facing the wall. He was leaning on crossed arms so I couldn’t see his face. The woman was kneeling over the body. She was crying and also not focused on me. The hallway back the way I’d come had a small crowd standing there watching us. There were a few more men but mostly women and children. Everyone was bundled up for winter in raggedy looking coats and scarfs and they all looked sickly.

The tommy-gun was lying on the floor where it had fallen and nobody had bothered retrieving it but I didn’t try to reach it. I still had my pistols in the pockets of my coat. This moment of rest would pass soon so I didn’t waste any more time. I pulled out one of the Lugers and aimed it at the man in front of me.

“Back the fuck up, Jack,” I said. He looked at me with no expression on his face and didn’t move. “I said back the fuck up!” I repeated a bit more forcefully.

“I heard what you said,” the man finally replied. But he made no move to follow my instruction. His voice was tired but full of grit like he would kill me if he only had the energy.

“Don’t make me say it again, fella, back up. You and your friend move to that wall or I take your knee cap.”

“Let’s go, Donny,” he finally said and began pulling Donny to the wall like I’d asked. The group behind them took a collective step forward and one of the smaller kids yelled for his dad. “Just stay where you are,” the man not named Donny told them. “You too, Cory.”

Cory must have been the boy. But he didn’t listen as he scrambled forward and latched on to Donny’s leg. The man sighed and leaned back against the wall as he patted Cory on the head.

“Now you,” I said to the woman by the body. “I hate to tell you this but you are going to have to go over and join your friends against the wall. I need everyone where I can see them.”

“Murderer,” she hissed as she stomped past.

I waited until she settled in with her group before speaking and when I did all eyes were on me. “I, uh, I first want to sincerely apologize for what I did.” This was met with a chorus of weak grumbling. “I know this is asking a lot but if you could just hear me out. When I am finished if you still need your pint of blood we can fight it out some more.” I waited until the balding guy nodded. My plan was to reason my way out of this situation. “I truly didn’t mean to kill your friend,” I said.

“My husband!” the woman wailed. She started in on a cussing spree that would’ve made a sailor blush. Her red hair was mangy and wild, shrouding her face like a lion’s mane as she screamed at me. I stared at her as she raged on hoping she would peter out quickly. I felt terrible about her husband but maybe not as bad as I should’ve felt. I wondered briefly if that was due to the end of the world or whatever virus I had running through my system. Finally the woman ebbed off to the occasional snot-clogged snort.

“Madam,” I said. “I am very sorry.  I didn’t mean to kill your husband and I do not want to hurt anyone else. It seems like you’ve had a rough go of things. If we can put the past behind us maybe we can help each other.”

“You filthy fucking liar, they sent you down here to kill us so get on with it!”

“Hush now, Wendy, let the man speak. If we have to, we’ll settle up with him when he is done,” said the balding man as he gently placed a hand on the woman’s trembling shoulder.

“Nobody sent me here. I came through the tunnels from the other side of the river.”

“What tunnels? What are you talking about?” Donny asked with a snarl.

“Go back and check for yourself. Hell, we can all go look if you want but there are tunnels. The room behind that door I came out of leads right to them. I got in under the movie theater on the other side of the river. The tunnels are old and have probably always been there. They haven’t been used in a very long time and most likely got sealed off and forgotten about. I know it sounds crazy but it’s true. We needed a way into the city and we found one. Every conceivable way in above ground is either fortified and heavily guarded or destroyed beyond safe passage.”

“He ain’t lying about that part, Richard,” called a voice from the small group of people.

Evidently Richard was the balding guy as he put a hand up to forestall any additional questions from the peanut gallery. “Three questions for you, mister. Who are you? Who is the ‘we’ you came in with and where are they and why did you kill Leo?” said Richard.