The Dead Come for Us

Chapter 8

As the shadow grew, the air itself screamed.

Mac didn't calculate vectors or weigh his options; he went with raw, muscle-memorized survival instinct. He dived across the ballast stones, hooked his hands under Rose's waist and drove his whole weight forward.

Lola lunged after Isaac, her nails digging into his jacket as she dragged him desperately, sliding away from the concrete lip of the drainage canal.

The multi-ton steel quarantine container slammed into the edge of the retaining wall with a catastrophic,

metal-liquefying thud.

The impact of the kinetic energy release shattered the concrete rim into a thousand lethal stone projectiles; the rear half of the heavy steel box crumpled under its own terminal velocity, pitching violently over on itself before diving straight down into the drainage canal below where it crushed the sprinting tide of the subsurface infected; but the front half ripped open like a crushed soda can on the gravel surface of the train yard.

A strangled, communal shriek erupted from the point of breach. Dozens of fresh, uninjured infected-trap during an urban purge and driven to madness by their confined, cramped conditions - spilled out into the bright daylight; they hit the ground already skittering on all fours, jaws clicking in sync to a rhythmic, maddened hunger and vacuous, bloodshot eyes locking onto the four stunned humans struggling to their feet thirty yards away.

"The control tower!"

Mac bellowed, a thick line of blood trailing from a shrapnel laceration just under his cheekbone; "Isaac, take Rose! Run!"

The industrial yard was now a crossfire of horror; to their left, the first breached container was a roaring fountain of infected pouring out onto the tracks; to their right, fresh runners from the second drop were already accelerating across the iron ties.

Isaac scooped Rose up under the arms; his boots sliding on the loose stones as he ran toward a three-story concrete control tower that stood like an island in the center of the rail grid. Lola came on right behind him; an iron crowbar clutched tightly in her right hand, her breathing ragged with terror.

Mac followed close behind, his last available magazine clattering into the chamber of his sidearm. He let off three shots over his shoulder:

"Bang-bang-bang"

One round caught a sprinting female runner in the collarbone and neck and spun her into the dirt; two more took her place immediately and navigated the rusted rails with a terrifying, feline grace.

They reached the rusted steel staircase of the control tower at a dead sprint. Isaac took the stairs two at a time; Rose clinging to his neck and burying her face in his shoulder to drown out the roar of the pursuing pack.

"Up the stairs! Don't look back!"

Lola yelled, her boots clanging against the open-grid metal steps.

Mac came through the first floor landing as a sprinting infected-a man in a shredded business suit-drove his hands into the metal grate of the walkway, his teeth snapping just inches from Mac's boot.

Mac drove the heavy butt of his empty shotgun into the fingers, breaking them until the creature toppled backward into the horde amassing at the base of the tower.

They scrambled through the heavy steel door at the top of the third floor landing and Mac slammed it shut, bolting it home just as a concussive wave of bodies rattled the outer metal.

Inside the control tower was small, suffocating, and crammed with dead tech. Broken monitors, dust-covered routing tables, and shattered glass from an old break-in covered the floor.

The temporary safety became an instant pressure cooker for the family's already strained relationships.

"You knew," Isaac choked, letting go of Rose to stand her on a metal bench. He turned on Mac, his chest heaving, tears of pure rage and adrenaline cutting tracks in the dust coating his face; "You saw those planes.

You knew they were dropping! You used us as bait to clear the ditch!"

"I didn't know the parameters of the payload, Isaac!"

Mac barked, his voice a rough, contained growl as he began to inspect the integrity of the room; "I saw a military asset shifting vectors. If we'd stayed put, that box would have crushed us flat. My decision lets you breathe!"

"Don't talk to him like he's a soldier!"

Lola interposed, her voice a dangerously low register as she stepped between them; the iron crowbar trembling in her hand.

"Look what you are doing to them, Mac! You didn't even scan the sky; you are so concerned with forward momentum that you have led us directly into the drops! We are trapped in a concrete box with only one exit, and the entire yard knows we're here!"

"The exit is defensible, Lola!"

Mac shot back, his hand slamming against a concrete wall; "This is a chokepoint! We have height, we have lines of sight, we have structural cover! If we were still on the gravel, we'd have been digested already!"

"At what cost?!" Isaac screamed, his voice cracking; "Look at Rose! She isn't even looking at us anymore! You are breaking her! You are breaking all of us just so you can be the hero!"

Mac turned his head. The words stung even his hardened skin. Rose had curled herself into a tight ball on the metal bench; her hands clamped over her ears and her eyes staring at the floor, oblivious to the screaming fight taking place mere feet away.

The unrelenting, high-speed horror had driven her entirely within herself.

Mac took a deep, slow breath and fought to bring his heart rate down from battle level. He walked to the windows and looked down into the yard below.

The scene was a sheer nightmare. The entire industrial complex was a swirling vortex of violence. The two breached cargo containers had released thousands of the infected onto the rails. They milled around the base of the control tower like a black, agitated sea, their rhythmic screams bouncing off the concrete structures.

Then, Mac's tactical eye caught movement near the southern fence line. A specialized, armored reconnaissance vehicle with military markings navigated the outer service road.

A speaker on its roof broadcast a repeating mechanical message over the din: "All civilian personnel; automated clearance protocol has been activated for sector four. Evacuate to the coast immediately; incendiary containment begins in T minus five minutes."

Mac's blood ran cold. He looked up at the sky. High over the clouds, the deep, rumbling thrum of a B-52 bomber began to permeate the air. They weren't dropping any more containment boxes. They were burning the sector down completely to create a firebreak.

Before Mac could voice the warning to Lola and Isaac, a concussive shudder ripped through the control tower. The infected at the base hadn't just surrounded the structure; the crushing weight of hundreds of bodies had begun to bend and snap the rusted steel supports of the staircase.

The floor under their feet tilted five degrees with a deafening, metallic screech as the first column gave way.