The Creepers (12 page)

“Yannek, for the
child’s sake.”

Gunshots echoed
from the guard tower in the distance.

“Dear God, what
have they done . . ." Ol’ Randy said. He retreated to his room amid
the staggered cracks of the .50CAL, knowing that the other boys, if they were
still alive, didn’t have a chance. He’d trained his men well.

*
* * * *

Mason Cartwright was born in rural South
Carolina, but he was raised on the Settlement. He prided himself on his skills
with the high caliber sniper rifle, boasting to any that would hear him, that he
could hit a Creeper between the eyes at a thousand yards. He, being a master of
his craft, reacted with cold precision when he heard the shouting voice call,
“CREEPERS ON THE YARD!" Mason cranked the warning siren first, thumbed the
safety off second.

As he took a deep breath and peered into
the scope, he walked himself through the Settlement’s protocol should such a
situation arise. By now, with the siren wailing, the Folks would be locked up
tight, leaving clear lines of sight on all sides of the tower. Though the
Creepers didn’t give off much heat, they gave off enough, somewhere inside
minor motor functions were at work, or something like that . . . Mason didn’t
care about all that science, he only cared about the stumbling, grayish,
vaguely human figures moving in front of his thermal crosshair. He zeroed on
the first, took a deep breath, and fired.

He missed.

He never missed.

The Creepers were moving much faster
than Creepers ought to, but the warning was clear, the weather not, lives were
at stake. Mason steadied himself for another shot.

*
* * * *

Bryan knew that Paul was dead, even
though the first shot missed them by inches. One second Paul was beside him,
and the next, a splash of hot gore splattered his face, and he was alone. Bryan
ran to the only potential safe haven that existed on the Settlement, Ol’
Randy’s house, but to get there he had to survive.

A hundred yards was nothing for one of
his brothers, but for Bryan, the hundred yards seemed like miles. He might not
be as fast, but he was smarter, and there were plenty of structures that the
tower sniper would not want to put that heavy caliber bullet through.

Bryan hugged the buildings and headed
towards sanctuary.

*
* * * *

“Ecky, take this,” Ol’ Randy handed him a
battered duffel bag. “It’s my bug out pack. She’ll serve ya’well enough."

“Randy, I just . . . I—”

Bryan came crashing through the door. He
tripped over Lyda’s body and hit the floor with a thud. His ragged breaths were
coming quick and sharp. The boy didn’t even register the carnage he’d fallen
into. His eyes had the distant glaze of someone who had been in the trenches.

“They killed Paul . . . they’ve . . .”
Bryan fell silent. He looked around at the shocked room.

“Bobby, get up." Ol’ Randy scooped
him up with one massive hand and checked his pack straps with the other. “Make
’em nice and tight. I’m sorry for what has happened to you, don’t let me feel
guilty as well—get out of here and get to safety. There is a life for you
beyond these walls, the Lord has seen it." He looked the boys in the eyes
and said, “Promise me that, on God himself, on all that is holy, you promise me
you’ll do that.”

“Yes, sir,” the boys said in unison.

“I do what I can, Randy. Not exactly how
I had evening planned, but universe is a bitch.”

“I’ll buy you time . . . you don’t stop
no matter what. You get clear and you find shelter." The big man turned
away as tears filled his eyes, a cold shudder ran through him then. The cruelty
of people never surprised him, but it always made him sick to his stomach. He
didn’t even want to dissect the orange jumpsuit that Bryan wore. He’d save his
anger for the morning and those responsible. Lyda wasn’t the only one with a
grudge against the boys. Dear God, he thought, what have they let themselves
become . . . they’re just children. He sucked down a breath and wiped away the
tears.

Ecky slapped a hand on Ol’ Randy’s
shoulder. “Look, friend, come first thaw, you meet at Baylor’s stop, okay?”

“If we all make it that far . . . and if
Baylor’s still alive.”

“The Mad Conductor will never die. He’s
too crazy for that.”

Ol’ Randy opened the cabinet next
against the far wall. It should have contained knick-knacks, plates, junk mail,
keys, anything mundane, but while at first glance the room was a very
country-styled living room, a further inspection revealed the nature of the
world in which it existed. Ol’ Randy removed a hand grenade and a long red
flare.

“When you hear the boom, you run."
He hugged the boys and said, “I love you boys with all my heart." Unable
to look the boys in the eyes again Ol’ Randy ignited the flare and charged out
the door, waving it over his head in bright, smoke-filled arcs. He pulled the
pin with his teeth and hurled the grenade through the air and over the fence.
Even the wicked sounds of the storm did little to diminish the thump of the
explosion.

Ecky ran for the fence with Bobby and
Bryan close behind.

Ecky hit the fence first with the heavy
pack weighing him down. He cleared it easily. Bobby followed, making sure to
land every link exactly. He twisted to avoid the barbed wire. His right leg
caught in the sharp rusty spikes, sending him over in a wild fall. He hit the
frozen ground hard, a crunch followed by a rush of pain exploded in his right
shoulder. The rucksack and rifle knocked the wind out of him as they slammed
into his back. But he did not slow. He rolled over, face skyward. The blizzard
was in full swing, and it covered the Settlement in a near whiteout.

Bobby cringed with each round fired from
the guard tower. The reports raged over the howling wind and screams. Amid the
sniper fire, Bryan clambered up the fence. Bobby reached out to his brother, as
if trying to pray him safely over the fence. As Bryan neared the top another
crack rent the air.

Bryan would never know what hit him. The
fifty caliber bullet hit him center mass, and its powerful kinetic energy tore
the husky teenager in half. Muscle, blood and bone splattered the white snow.
Bobby screamed at the sight of Bryan’s legs still stuck on the fence mid-climb.
He was still screaming when Ecky grabbed him by the collar and yanked him to
his feet.

“Move, move, move!” the engineer
shouted.

Bobby couldn’t move, he was numb. The
whole world came crashing down around him. Bryan’s warm blood coated his face.
Chunks of his brother stuck in his hair.…

“Bobby, you don’t move we die! Move,”
Ecky screamed, smacking Bobby across the face.

The sharp blow wrenched him into
coherence. And the round that blew a crater in the ground to his left,
propelled him to motion.

With Ecky in the lead they navigated the
car-cluttered road with ease. The engineer had made the journey down the
mountain many times over the winters past. Snow, cold and blinding, he
navigated the treacherous road by memory alone. Shots continued to rip the air
apart. Ecky wasn’t sure if the sniper was firing on their heat signatures, or
finishing the other kids off. The blizzard made it impossible to tell. He had
to keep Bobby moving, had to keep himself moving. He needed to put some
distance between them and the Settlement.

* * * * *

Even though it was near midday, the
steel gray sky hid all instances of there ever having been a sun. And the
temperature continued to plummet. Finding shelter was at the forefront of
Ecky’s mind. Hypothermia wouldn’t be far off now. There was no time to properly
gear up. The jackets he and Bobby wore would not be enough to protect them from
long term exposure. And the few guns he managed to gather were useless against
the Creepers in such thick snow. Ecky slid a crowbar from his pack, tested the
weight, and continued his fast-paced jog down the road.

“Bobby.”

The boy did not respond. He was lost in
the act of keeping himself moving one foot in front of the other.

“Bobby, take this,” Ecky said, handing
the boy a rubber-gripped hammer.

Hearing, but remaining silent, Bobby
took the hammer, brought it up and down slowly, before flipping it around so,
the hooked end would be the first thing to make contact with a potential
target. Sharp and straight to the brain.

Ecky continued to direct them north,
going south was out of the question. The further away from the big towns and
cities, the better. Possessing years of battle tested skills the engineer and
boy could deal with almost any small scale encounter, but any more than that,
and they’d be done for. The area north of the Settlement was mostly farmland,
mountains, and even during the sane times, mostly uninhabited. Using the road,
and his memories as a guide, Ecky headed towards the only structure that would
provide them safety and warmth. He only hoped the blizzard wouldn’t freeze them
in their tracks before they covered the five miles. His fingers were beyond
numb, as were his toes, but he kept moving, and kept flexing his fingers. Bobby
was silent at his side.

The wind tapered off, but the snow was
relentless, fat flakes filling the sky, covering the ground, wiping out almost
every color. Bobby crouched next to Ecky, watching the large concrete
structure, that stood, like a massive headstone near the river’s edge. He
wanted to run to it, to duck inside those thick, wind-shielding walls, anything
to be out of the cold, but to do so would be suicide. Teeth chattering, core
temperature dangerously low, and the horror of losing his brothers were all
forgotten in that moment. Bobby’s years of training kicked in.

“We don’t have much light left,” Bobby
said, blinking away a snowflake.

“Not like we had much to begin
with." Ecky was not shocked by Bobby’s demeanor, scared, but not shocked.
The ritual indoctrination of religion, survival, and militarism had been
drilled into these children their whole lives. They were trained killers,
believers, but Bobby was different . . . he was sane. The fact that Bobby could
function after such a trauma, just hours removed, and function because the boy
knew what needed to be done, is what put fear in Ecky’s belly. Perhaps, if he
had been one of them since birth he’d be the same way, but he wasn’t. He had
nearly twenty-five years under his belt before he encountered the Folks. Plenty
of time to develop his own belief system, morals and views of the world, but
Ecky was accepted because they needed him, though, it did help that he prayed
to the same god, or pretended to in their presence. His views on a higher power
had shifted over the years.

“Blizzard kept them from us I think.
Now,” Ecky shrugged, “I think we’re not so lucky. They’re out there.”

“They’re always out there,” Bobby said, slipping
the hammer into his pack. He chambered a round in his rifle and sighted the
water treatment facility.

“Keep the hammer close. It will be
better choice once we’re inside. Didn’t have a chance to grab a pistol. I got
point, cover me,” Ecky said, as he slowly moved towards the facility.

Tall pines lined the road leading to the
structure, and once they left the wide open view of the hill, the trees became
a cage. Bobby didn’t like being penned in. He wouldn’t be able to pick off a
target from a distance unless one decided to meander down the road. Off to his
left Bobby heard the river rushing along. The snow crunched under his boots.

Something crashed to the ground on his
right.

Bobby snapped the rifle to the sound and
said, “Clear . . . it’s the snow, too heavy for the boughs.”

Ecky nodded and continued on.

The world looked so peaceful, but a
cancer loomed under the crisp whiteness.
Never let your guard down,
he
thought. Bobby’s hand trembled, he blinked, was that a Creeper drifting between
the massive trunks, or shadows in the low light? The cold had already taken
most of his muscle control, and now, it started to poke at his mind with icy
fingers. He doubled his steps and fell in behind the cautiously moving Ecky.

The sounds of falling snow, heavy
branches straining, and winter life assaulted his ears. Each sound carried an
innocence with it, but like Bobby himself, the world had been robbed of
innocence, and now those sounds held the potential of danger, a slow-moving
death lurking amid the pines.

The rusted remnant of a chain link fence
ran like a ragged scarf around the plant’s perimeter. An aluminum and vinyl
guardhouse leaned at a hard angle; its roof long since collapsed under the
weight of neglect, and many winters. Bits of dead scrub bush poked through the
window, branching out, like a welcoming arm waving in the morning workers.
Behind the guardhouse a stain of fresh blood and skin steamed in the snow.

Ecky held up a fist.

Bobby scanned the area, nothing moved.
There was no carcass, but from the bits of skin scattered around the gore Bobby
gathered it wasn’t human. That did not ease his tension. When the Creepers ran
short on humans they devoured any animal dumb enough to cross their paths.