Never far gone, p.14
Never Far Gone, page 14
Breathe, Miles… Bang!
One falls. Then two. Then three. It doesn’t take long for me to lose track of my shots, but I’m fairly certain I am landing every one of the shots I have taken so far. Given the dark environment we were in, apart from the sporadic illumination from the muzzle flashes, my perfect accuracy impressed me more than the 50-yard shot with iron sights I had taken earlier. I feel the slide of the handgun lock back once the magazine runs dry. I take a step back, grabbing another magazine from my pocket in the process, as Derrick and Corver replace my position and begin firing their now replenished .22 caliber rifles.
Two magazines left. I trace my sweaty fingers alongside the magazine well so I can insert it properly without having to see it. Due to my frustration regarding the heat, I yank off my hood before placing a hand on the shoulder of the nearest Thriver to me.
“Back up!” I yell out at the top of my lungs, barely able to even hear myself. Simultaneously, everyone apart of the front line begins backing up one step at a time. From nearly 100 yards behind us, Archer’s distinctive .308 caliber rifle lets off a round that causes one of the apparitions ahead of me to fall on the tracks below like a falling block of cement. I kneel against the right wall of the tunnel nearest to the group, for stability, before firing off a couple of rounds myself.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Although I don’t pause to get an exact count, there are only a few specs left, so I join the rest of the group and take a few more shots before having to reload again. One magazine left. As I eject the depleted magazine, I can make out the stainless steel reflecting off of it from the bright red light that suddenly appeared from behind us.
The hell…
In a moment of confusion, I instinctively turn my body to face behind me, only to see Archer cocking his arm back to throw a hand flare he had undoubtedly grabbed from the Armory in the Consulate. When he releases it into the air, it travels some distance before landing about halfway between where we are standing and his location.
“Wha- Archer!” I scream as I fumble for another magazine in a frenzy. I’m shaking, both out of fear and anger, so it’s not making the reload any easier. The groans of the specs now standing about 20 feet in front of us transition into the painful roaring I’d only heard in front of the Consulate the day Jayden died.
Oh my god…
I look up, empty pistol in hand, to see the facial features of the things in front of us becoming more visible with each stride they take further into the tunnel. They’re running now. I nearly drop the handgun as I get up from my kneeling position and start speed walking backward.
“Run, now!” David yells from beside me as he and some others in the group turn to sprint behind us.
I couldn’t agree more.
I grab the magazine in my pocket and use the bright crimson light seeping through the tunnel from behind me to insert it into the handgun with an audible click as it locks into place. I send the slide forward using the slide release and look up to see Derrick quickly ushering his way toward the rear of the tunnel. My body kicks in all the adrenaline it possesses when it comes to my attention: Derrick didn’t even notice one of the spectrals thrashing around nearly four feet behind him as it was attempting to grab his arm.
Crap…
“Move!” I holler out while using all of the force I can muster to throw my body against the disfigured humanoid that is reaching out to grab Derrick. Our bodies fall to the ground as I hear Derrick’s footsteps stop abruptly a few feet away. I immediately smell the decay coming from the corpse of this creature in front of me. It is worse than anything I have ever smelt before, yet I don’t have time to get back on my feet before the creature resumes its attempt to claw at me once it has regained its momentum.
The sheer strength… I… I don’t know what to do…
“Agh… Fuck!” I shout out at the top of my lungs as the rest of the specs approach my helpless position. I don’t even know where my gun is. Amidst the chaos unfolding around me, I’m briefly blinded when one of the creatures catches on fire as it comes into contact with the third rail I had warned the others about earlier. The smell of fire and rotting flesh enters my nostrils as I struggle with my ferocious opponent. Now I have smelt the worst of the worst. I hear yelling coming from some of the men in the group.
I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I can’t think…
Then my ears ring again. I can feel small particles of a liquid substance land on my face as two .22 caliber rounds are fired into the head of my strong assailant. As the previously aggressive attacks are instantly replaced with the weight of a motionless 200-pound body, I begin to push the corpse off me while fumbling along the ground for my firearm. From my peripherals, I notice Derrick now aiming near the train station and walking toward the remainder of the abominations flooding the tunnel just as Corver grabs my right bicep.
“Are you alright, man?” Corver asks in a concerned tone as he keeps the muzzle of his Ruger 10/22 aimed at the ceiling. I can barely make out his question from all the ringing in my ears. He pulls me up as some of the other men in the group follow Derrick’s lead.
As the corpses of all but one of the creatures fall onto the tracks, I see Derrick lift the butt of his rifle before slamming it down on the head of the remaining attacker, whose body is completely engulfed in flames. He knocks it to the ground with as much force as I would come to expect from someone Derrick’s size. As the creature attempts to regain his balance, I can see its decaying body fall motionless as David brings the shotgun up to its head before firing. One of the only sounds I can hear as the echo of the shotgun blast starts to disparate is the sound of my heavy breathing.
We’re alive… we did it.
Some of the men rush to my side once they realize we are in the clear, yet I wave my hand to signal I don’t need anybody’s help. Most back off once I do. Trying to catch my breath, I pick up my Kimber and scan the crowd as my eyes begin to adjust to the light again. It doesn’t take me long before I lock eyes with exactly who I’m looking for. I aggressively shrug off Corver’s hand, which is still on my arm in an attempt to help me catch my balance, and stride closer toward the light separating Archer from the rest of us. Even as his words begin to fill the air, I can barely make out his muffled dialogue.
Control…
“Sorry about that. I couldn’t really see where I was aiming. But hey, you see… I knew you could do it-“ Archer says as I bring the handgun up to his head once he’s about three feet away from me and fire.
Bang! Silence.
The only audible things within the tunnel are as follows: The sound of the flare, the sound of Archer’s body hitting the ground, and the sound of his bolt-action rifle slamming against his body. The iron smell from the warm blood now sliding down my face overwrote the smell of burning flesh and gunpowder embedded in the walls of the tunnel. After a few seconds of no commotion from anyone, I bring the handgun down to my side and turn around to face those behind me. No one knows what to do or what to say: so I start talking.
“He put us in danger,” I mutter loud enough until I can hear my own words. “Almost got us killed, for what?!” I yell out rhetorically, not expecting an answer. “Negligence like that gets people killed. It has already gotten people killed,” I yell out as I aimlessly point the gun back at Archer’s corpse lying behind me. “If we die out here, so does our family back home…” I say in a slightly hushed tone that is still audible to those in front of me. Silence. After a long pause, David steps forward and begins speaking faintly.
“He’s right, we- we have people to take care of,” he cries out as he begins to rub the back of his neck without making eye contact with me. I don’t hear or see any signs of objection from the other seven men, but I can’t tell if it’s because they agree with me or because they fear me. Corver inserts himself into the conversation shortly thereafter.
“He was an asshole anyways. Let’s just get this done so we can keep thriving, yeah?” he asks in a joking manner before proceeding to continue down the now-dark 59th Street Station. I can tell by his serious facial expression that Derrick is not too fond of my recent decision, but he breaks his gaze away from me and follows Corver into the station.
“Let’s clear the bodies from the track so we can get the train through here once we’re done,” I firmly but politely instruct the men standing idle. Most of their eyes are still locked on me. I turn to face Archer’s corpse as some of the guys step forward to move the bodies, then kneel to grab his rifle.
“There’s no room for people like you here,” I mutter under my breath so the others won’t hear me. I place the rifle against the wall before grabbing the contents of Archer’s dark blue book bag and placing it into mine. Once I zip up my bag and place it on my back, letting off small grunts of pain in the process as pressure is applied to the bruises I had endured from being pinned down with such ferocity just moments ago, I roll his corpse off the track as the light from the flare starts to dissipate in front of me.
Time to go…
With countless rounds of ammunition being spent and an unfathomable amount of commitment and sheer willpower, we finally did it. The sudden warmth that hit my skin once a few of the Thrivers and I simultaneously slammed the steel doors leading into the Power Control Center shut made the literal blood, sweat, and tears all worth it. We nearly lost a few people just trying to get out of the train station, yet we weren’t accepting another loss today.
We- we made it…
I hesitate for what feels like an eternity before pushing my body off the set of one-way steel doors separating us from the Specs pounding on the other side. With my anxiety still through the roof, I can feel my heart rate steadying with every deep exhale I let out. David, Derrick, and I back away from the entrance and venture further toward the dark corridor leading into the building. As we turn around, Derrick proceeds to dig into his book bag for the same black-and-white notebook he had brought to me earlier yesterday morning.
“Alright, Lance helped me draft a schematic of this floor. We came in through the west so we are right… here,” Derrick says as he aims his right pointing finger at one of the entrances he drew on paper. I hand him a flashlight I had in my bag, the same one I picked up from the Cafeteria when I first got back from Scarsdale, but retract it before he has a chance to get a good grip on it.
“Turn it off if you hear or see anything that you shouldn’t,” I mutter as I place the grip of the flashlight in his left hand. He flips the light and turns it on before aiming it at the book and taking a few steps forward.
“Let’s go boys,” I say to the others as I turn my head to the side without breaking my glance at the dark corridor ahead of us. As we begin to follow Derrick, I eject the magazine from the Kimber to check how many bullets are left: One round, plus one in the chamber.
Great…
I slam the magazine back into the weapon before locking my eyes back onto Derrick and the notebook he’s holding. Even with such a detailed account of the PCC’s layout, there is no way of truly suppressing our fear of the unknown. We begin to clear each room in pairs. With every corner we peer around, I’m reminded of the possibility of danger.
After a few turns, we make our way into a huge room surrounded by large computer terminals and a plethora of switchboards and desks strewn all across the area. As I scan the room from right to left, I can’t help but notice the large wall near the front of the large room consisting of different colored lights. Each light illustrates a different subway line spanning throughout the city. By the looks plastered on the faces of nearly everyone in the group, it becomes clear to me that the tension looming over our heads seemingly evaporates as quickly as it had festered.
Oh my god… this is… incredible…
“Wow…” I can hear one of the men say as we all start to take in the intriguing sophistication that went into designing such an extraordinary piece of technology. One of the lights above us switches on. Followed by another. Then another. Before I know it, the seemingly vacant room is now completely visible. The suddenness of the bright lights being activated causes my eyes to squint slightly, but I don’t voice my slight annoyance.
“I need you four to collect as much shit as you can find in this building, carefully, that is…” I let out quietly as I point at David and three other Thrivers nearest to me. “Y’know the drill. Anything from toilet paper to half-empty bags of chips you find on a desk. Bring it all and we’ll figure it out from there,” I say.
“You got it, boss,” one of the men says as the four look at each other as if trying to decide which direction to go first. They take off in a light jog as they decide which room to search first. I turn my attention to Corver and the female standing immediately on the right. The woman, whose name is Ruby, is the same woman who was part of the Nocturnal Patrol I saw on the second floor yesterday morning.
“You guys will take the rest of this floor to make sure we’re not alone, yeah?” I ask in a more worried tone.
“We’ll uh- we’ll fire off a shot if we see anything dangerous,” Ruby says as she moves a strand of her dark blonde hair behind her ear before gripping her rifle more firmly. I take the flashlight Derrick had placed on one of the desks nearby and throw it over to Corver. He catches it with his free hand before nodding and turning to lead the way toward the opposite side of the room where the previous four Thrivers had wandered off.
Once it’s just Derrick and me standing in the heart of the PCC, I turn and start walking to where he is standing just a few feet from me. He grabs one of the rolling chairs idly standing in front of the desk before sitting down and flipping through his notebook.
“What now, D?” I inquire as I roll over a chair sitting near one of the other desks and place it at his side before taking a seat.
“The old man had me writing everything there is to know about this place, so I’m trying to find out how to reroute the Lexington Avenue trains to our advantage,” Derrick lets out as he briefly picks his head up from his book before gazing around the room. He notices the brightly lit Terminal against the wall I had noticed earlier before placing his nose back into the notebook. My eyes avert back and forth between all of the exits surrounding the room.
This place can work. Yeah…
Placing my attention back on Derrick, I recall that it was Derrick’s idea to bring Archer along for the commute. All of my rage in the tunnel had made me forget that, and I can’t help but wonder how that is making him feel. As Derrick continues to silently fumble with the various switches on the Terminal, I step forward to address him.
“Hey, uh… listen, bud. I know you chose Archer to come with us today, so I wanted to-“ I say before being hastily cut off.
“Look, man, Archer was a dude who did stupid shit. And that almost cost me my ass in those tunnels, too,” he lets out as he nearly knocks one of the pencil holders nearby over onto the floor when he swings his arm behind him in frustration. His gaze is now on me as he continues speaking. “I saw what you did back there. You almost lost your life just to save mine, man. If you had died before I got to you, I would have shot that piece of shit myself,” he snarls as he starts to rise in his chair in an intimidating manner.
I take a second to process what he said before smiling. A few seconds later, Derrick walks over to his bag and grabs a half-empty water bottle and a semi-clean rag that was tied to one of the carry straps of the bag. After pouring some water on the rag, he extends his hand before silently offering it to me. Sensing my confusion, Derrick circles his pointing finger around the front of his face, reminding me of the dried blood I had felt on mine in the tunnel.
“Sooner or later, that’s not going to wash off. Take advantage while it still does,” Derrick says quietly while continuing to usher the damp rag in my direction. I wait for a moment before taking it. While nodding at him in an appreciative manner, I extend my hand in his direction. He keeps his eyes trained on mine as he grabs my hand without looking. He breaks his gaze before sitting back down and placing his attention back on the book.
Seeing a mirror in the distance, right above the counter in the break area near the other side of the Terminal room, I make my way over to it and lower my head as I position myself in front of it. It takes me longer than I’d like to admit to muster enough courage to look at myself. As I do, I barely recognize myself as my cheeks and forehead are covered with long strains of dried blood. The dark red substance seems to wipe off with ease as I drag the wet rag down my face.
It takes nearly half a dozen times before I’m able to completely eradicate any evidence of the atrocities I committed from my skin. I wring out the rag in the sink, causing a flow of red to drip into the stainless steel amenity, before turning the valve to wash it away. Although it shouldn’t surprise me, no water comes through the idle faucet above, leaving the various streams of trained blood to effortlessly flow toward the middle of the sink. I take one last look at myself before slowly backing away from the mirror and turning to address Derrick, who is glancing at me from his seat nearly 30 feet away.
“Do what you can and shout out if you need my help,” I say as I place the rag into my pocket before turning toward the exit of the room. With each step I take toward the exit, I retract the Kimber from its holster and raise it before making my way toward the stairwell to begin my search of the building alongside everyone else. Toward the unexplored areas of the building. Toward the unknown.
