Step by Step/Issue 11

This is Issue #11 of Step by Step. This is the fifth issue of Act Two.

Through The Walls
The thunder boomed outside as rain pounded the expanse of the city. The turbulent winds shifted branches in the misty, icy weather. To those who were unfortunate to be outside, they were blasted with biting winds that drooped tree branches and sent people driving like blind men.

Jacob was trying to control his steering when his car rammed into the array of military vehicles. Ones that were surrounded by the dead. Snapping mandibles brushed up on every window of the Chevy as it groaned across the road. “What the hell are these people?” He couldn't muster up another thought as the next moment a teeth baring woman slammed onto his windshield. “Holy sh—!”

“Get past them!” Sarah shouted. She had analyzed the parking lot hundreds of times over from taking Kerry to Summercreek a year before. A year before patient zero. She shuddered and clenched her sides from the skin crawling chills that jolted her spine. Damn rain. “We can follow through here and into the school.”

“And then what?” Jacob hissed. He squinted at the layer of glass in front of him. Rainwater topped the foggy glass and pounded the ghoulish face of the woman who landed on the hood of the Chevy. “Hold on, Sarah!” He swerved the car like a blind man shooting an arrow through the pale mist.

“Jacob, stop!” Sarah pointed to the right. She always had better eyesight then him. Never once wore glasses. “You're driving into these people!”

Jacob continued with his foot digging into the pedal. “I know what I'm doing, Sarah.”

Sarah rose a brow. “We're in a damn parking lot. Fog all around us.” She scoffed. “The place is abandoned.”

Kerry was here. Jacob knew it. “We can find Kerry.” Jacob lingered his eyes over to the vast mist which enraged him. “And then Ethan...”

“What?” She looked back at her husband in wary shock. She rewinded what he said many times in that short instance of peace. Ethan. Ethan had been dead for years. “Jac—“

The front tires of the Chevy groaned as they rammed into something. Something hard. Jacob and Sarah both gasped as they were simultaneously ripped out from their seats. The soaking wet car roared its last breath of exhaust and hummed a wailing noise until the engine began gasping.

A puff of smoke left the hood of the dented car and trailed into the wispy entrails of the consuming fog. The glass had shattered and sprinkled its remnants on the hood. The engine droned on for a handful of seconds before it became to petite a sound that the moans of the dead took over.

The dead reached into the holes in the windshield. Rotting hands flustered into the vehicle and their moans echoed in the ears of Jacob. “Mother...” Jacob could barely open his eyes. Flashes of red and whites engulfed his vision. His neck felt like an elephant had planted itself on it. With weary eyes, he glanced to his side. Sarah. “No, no!” He grabbed a hold of his wife who was bleeding from the forehead. Tears welled in Jacob's eyes.

He cradled his wife's motionless body. Wiped strands of brown hair from her bloodied face. So beautiful. Her face was mangled with broken skin and shards of glass. “Sarah, please.” Jacob muttered, letting her head drop to his elbows. He pulled away from the restless hands of the dead that reached so ever closely to the two. “You sons of bitches!”

Jacob shouted and spit curses at the dead as they covered all sides of the car. The Chevy trembled from side to side. Stuck in the lifeless vehicle, all Jacob could do was keep his eyes centered on his wife. Sarah. “Please, Sarah.” A tear skimmed down his cold cheek. Then more followed. With his cheeks damp and anger accumulating in his chest, Jacob wrapped a hand around the forearm of one of the dead.

He growled at the crazie. The crazie tried to growl back. Tried to reel in its body as Jacob tugged the arm inside the car. Instead, Jacob yanked the slithery arm inside until he saw the crazed face of a man. Not even a day older than twenty, it was a soldier.

The soldier snarled and flared his purple nostrils. Jacob took a moment to peer into the soldier's eyes. Eyes that were coated with the grayness of the storm clouds above. Jacob didn't hesitate. He grabbed the closest and sharpest edge of glass and dropped it into the soldier's forehead.

The soldier's eyes glistened with rage. But before it could blast a stench of exhale into Jacob's face, his head slumped down and left Jacob there. Breathing madly. Staring at the soldier's dead body. Just as a hand found the coldness of Jacob's neck and reached in.

“All better.” Hector remained as stiffened as a wall. He breathed out, barely showing an ounce f remorse. He knew what he had done. And he would have done the same thing had he the chance to. He tipped his hand to the National Guards. “Grab his body.”

The man in the flannel shirt lifted up a finger. At Hector. “You heartless shit.” The man stepped in front of Blake's body. A pool of blood had begun to surround it. “He killed Blake.” The man kept pointing. “And he's a damn cop; he's supposed to protect us!”

“And I did my job,” Hector responded in an icy tone. “A great job if anything.” He ushered a hand to the awkward leg that Blake had limped on. Hector darted his eyes to the nurse who had been tending Blake. “He was bitten by one of them?”

In hesitation, the nurse nodded. She was afraid of telling the officer no. Frankly, she had no idea if being bitten was relevant.

“Observant.” Hector spun to face the stunned refugees. “These things bite. Transfer the disease through that. Haven't any of you noticed?” Hector paused, frowning. “We've been here for what? More than a month? To be honest, this government that's been supposedly funding us has kept a little fact secret from us.”

The man in the flannel shirt remained silent. Deep in his thoughts, he was oblivious to the crazies making their hungry way to the cafeteria's front doors. “Tell us then.” The man lowered his hand. “Tell us, you asswipe.”

Hector winced as thunder blazed once again. “The disease or whatever is extremely contagious. You get any sort of contact and you're good as dead. A dead man walking he was.” Hector looked down at Blake. “Shot him in the head to keep him from turning.”

The man smirked. “You're a big bowl of bull shit, aren't ya?” As fast as lightning could strike again, the man picked up the cot and turned around. He bashed the metal frame against the lock and in one blow it cracked open a breath of concealed, rusted air.

He swung open the door and was met with the chills of death. Not even Hector could have saved him at that moment. Four hands, no six, clutched the man's flannel shirt and pulled him to their teeth. Blood sprayed from his neck as the three crazies closed in over the man's fear-stricken body.

This time, the crowd kept their screams to a maximum. Beyond that to be exact. They raced for their remaining loved ones while the soldiers raised their assault rifles. But they were too late. The crazies had toppled over the man and were tearing the flesh from his neck.

The Hispanic officer that stood by the window barely moved. Hector Pacino remained there with bewildered eyes. Fingers clenched to his sheathed handgun. Adrenaline exploded throughout him and his vision narrowed.

Hector wasted no time yanking the handgun free. He brought the Glock up and took individual steps towards the man being devoured. Before the soldiers and police officers could act, Hector halted them with a flick of his hand. Standing in front of the two dead men who had been annoying the hell out of him a minute before, he caught a whiff of the diseased people.

One of them, a woman wearing leftover rags, gazed up at Hector. The woman still had sinewy flesh dangling from her blistery and swollen lips. Her eyes gave Hector a belief, for just a moment, that the woman was okay. But her eyes were as empty as glass. She hadn't even expected it when Hector gathered up his pistol on her and pulled the trigger.

Her head jerked back. Those empty eyes. They remained startled by the flash of gunfire. In succession, two sprays of gunshots came from behind a smiling Hector. The two other crazies, both men, fell beside their deceased companion.

“See?” Hector pointed the barrel of his pistol to the man in the flannel shirt. “I god damn told you all." The man had started to reawaken. This time with much less English and much more moaning. His first gasp for air rattled out but was short-lived. "Now you get to quote me."

Another bullet rang out.