Fire Away

Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

John entered the kitchen and grabbed more water as he started to feel dehydrated. He drank it slowly and went to the lounge where the transceiver sat on a table.

He took a seat and pulled his radio off his belt, setting it down. Jane joined him, taking a seat as she kept her eye on him. He began adjusting the knobs and looked to see what channel his handheld was on before switching to it on the transceiver.

"You think this will work?" She asked.
"It has to." He said.

The static began building up intensely before it faded away and was replaced by a voice. John turned the volume up and listened.

"Iteration One Hundred and Seventy Two. There will be an evacuation on Thirty One July at Zero Six Hundred. The following locations will be searched for refugees. Pasadena. Pearland. Fresno. Bellaire. Cypress. Spring. Humble. Sheldon. Channel View. The operation will be done by air. There is no possibility for extraction on the ground. Get to the rooftops. There, you will be rescued. If you have any way to flag the pilots down, do it. There is no promise we will see you otherwise. This is the only scheduled evacuation for the foreseeable future. Be packed and ready to leave. Iteration One Hundred and Seventy Three..." The message went on to repeat itself.

John lowered the volume and looked to Jane who sat there in shock.

"Bellaire. That's the closest." He said.

"How far?" She asked.

"About seven miles. The date they mentioned is tomorrow morning. If we want to get there before dark, we need to leave soon." He said.

"There's no way we could make it there on foot. We barely made it a block." She said.

John took a moment to think before turning to look at the stairwell. He pulled the flare gun from his pocket and held it out for her to take.

"You'll need this to flag down the helicopters. It's only got one flare left so... use it wisely." He said.

"What about you?" She asked.

"I'm gonna get you there. I don't know how this all works, if I'm... infected. But if I am, I probably don't have long. I'm gonna make sure you get on that helicopter, okay?" He asked.

"You got an idea?" She asked. John nodded, growing visibly pale.

"We have... a high water rescue truck in the bay. It's made to drive through floods in a hurricane scenario. It's the best chance we've got at pushing through this horde." He said.

"Okay." She said.

"The only problem is... the bay is overrun. I'm thinking... I go down there, grab the truck, and I'll meet you under that ladder. You get in, and we get the hell out of dodge. How many shots you got?" He asked.

Jane pulled the rifle off of her shoulder and handed it to him. He looked down the chamber to count the bullets.

"You got three left. No more ammo after that so if you need to use it, make it count. You ready?" He asked.

Jane nodded.

"Okay. Follow me." John picked up the fire axe.

He headed for the stairwell entry that he had blocked off with the fridge. He looked back and gave her a nod before pushing it out of the way.

He pressed his ear against the door for a moment to listen out, but it was silent. He creaked it open slowly, peeking inside. It was dark, and eerily quiet. He turned back to Jane.

"Make sure you push that fridge back. Grab anything we might need. Get to that ladder. I should be around in a few minutes." He said in a hoarse whisper.

He gave her a nod before entering into the dark stairwell and closing the door behind him. He white knuckled his axe as he slowly stepped down the stairs, listening out for any unusual noises.

As he neared the bottom of the stairwell, a loud screech bellowed from the bay. He pressed his back against the wall and tried to control his breathing as he peeked out.

The bay was mostly dark, with the high water rescue truck sitting at the far end. The breached garage door was still open, casting a bit of sunlight inside, but it didn't align with the truck.

He'd have to get the other garage door open first then go for the keys. Light footsteps shuffled in the bay as low croaking came from an infected. He couldn't see any of them, readying his axe.

John slowly stepped out into the bay as if he were walking on eggshells. He moved behind the cover of a ladder truck, feeling his heart racing in his chest. He stayed quiet; the croaking grew louder until the fire truck began to shake lightly as if something were brushing against it.

He slowly leaned down and peeked underneath the truck and saw nothing. Screeching came from above as he looked upwards to see an infected at the top, pouncing at him.

It pinned him down hard as he gripped his axe on either side, using the handle to hold it away by its neck. It howled in his face and was the first time he ever got a good look at one. It's white eyes were bloodshot, it's teeth were rotten. Thick saliva that looked like bits of blood and bile dripped from its mouth onto him as he used all his strength. He screamed in rage as he threw it off of him, standing up and slamming the axe down hard on its head. It twitched for a moment before going still.

More screeches came from outside as he ran across the bay to a box, whipping it open. He grabbed a set of keys and moved to the garage door as he pocketed them. He pulled at the chains aggressively, swinging open the big doors as fast as he could. As he got a look at the outside, he could see hundreds of infected catch his scent as the weird mist rolled inside.

They began charging at him as he got it open, turning and running for the truck. He swung open the door and climbed inside, shutting it just as the horde swarmed inside. They bashed on the sides of the truck aggressively, reaching their hands up to the window. The sound of scratching nails on glass ripped through his ears as he put the keys in the ignition and started it up.

The engine rumbled as he switched on all the lights. The infected tried to get onto the hood as he pressed the gas, but they simply couldn't reach it. John drove forward, mowing down infected and praying he wouldn't get stuck.

He drove out of the garage and hooked a left, heading for the ladder. As he pulled around, he could see Jane at the top waiting. He parked at the bottom and honked as the horde swarmed him. Jane tossed two bags off of the roof and into the back, then slung the rifle over her shoulder and climbed onto the ladder. The horde didn't notice her as she made her way down, dropping into the back.

She laid there as still as a statue as dozens of hands tried to reach over the sides. John stepped on the gas and pulled forward, driving over more infected as they pursued. There had to be a thousand of them at this point, all alerted to the truck. When it was safe enough, Jane climbed over the side and popped open the passenger door, holding on tight. She inched her way onto the side steps and climbed in, closing the door behind her.

Both completely flustered, they looked to each other and shared a smile of relief. John pulled onto a small highway and got it up to about fifty miles an hour as the horde chased after. Jane looked up at a sign that read Bellaire - 5 Miles as she took a deep breath.