A New Night Ch. 7 Ben's Story
Ben was running for his life. Everywhere in the darkness he could hear them howling and scrabbling after him as he ran through the woods at breakneck speed. The smell of the fire was deep in his sinuses as the branches tore at him from all sides; he was just waiting for one to be a hand that would end his suffering. His fists were raw and painful, having spent most of the night punching his way through the things to get out of harm's way.
He didn't know where he was anymore let alone remember where the house was, only that he was lucky to have escaped from the madness behind him. His back was aching after falling through the window and rolling off the porch with one of those things trying to eat his face. He grabbed a brick and smashed its head in as stood his ground, trying like hell to get up as the crowd began to gather around him. He punched one down and another would take it's place, almost like the Hydra from The Odyssey sprouting another head_._ He was forced to turn back toward the woods on the other side of the house as more and more of them came from the direction of the highway.
His lungs were burning and he was tired, the only thing on his mind was whether or not Barbra made it to the highway. He thought he heard gunshots at one point and even heard a scream somewhere, but he couldn't place who or where it came from. Strangely the thought of that blonde cat was on his mind. From her scent to the way she cried out softly when she took his knot; the burning heat around his member as he filled her up with his seed. Wake up dammit, he thought realizing he had stopped and heard the noises in the woods amplified ten fold. The night insects had suddenly stopped chirping and a distant crash sent nesting birds screaming into the night.
The first of them came into view, almost as if they smelled him nearby as it emerged from the woods hobbling and stumbling drunkenly. The wolf looked horrified as a dozen more shadows began emerging moments after.
"Shit," he muttered under his breathe knowing he was unarmed and severely outnumbered.
He crashed through the woods, feeling the branches cutting into his pelt and drawing blood as the slow moving wave began to catch up. The trees began to part up ahead, almost mercifully as a field as far as he could see opened up before him. Acres upon acres of land rolled into the Pennsylvania hills beneath the dying moonlight, silhouetting a fence in heavy shadow as he neared. It looked like the fence belonging to a farm and farm's meant there had to be people. He shot a nervous glance over his shoulder and ducked between the barbwire, desperately avoiding their business ends.
He saw lights in the distance mostly high up on sheds and silos as he began shouting at the top of his lungs.
"HELLO!" he screamed running toward the speckling of buildings nestled between a pair of hills, "HELLO! ANYONE THERE?!"
He got no reply as he drew closer, avoiding the dark entrance to the barn to his right as he did. Something felt off and almost eerie about the farm as he came to the two story house. It was well lit up from what he could see, though his nervous eyes were bouncing wildly in his head as he sought any sign of life. The front door was ornate and had a big window taking up most of the dark wood paneling, beyond it was a mirror with his wary expression looking back at him. He could hear noise inside, possibly a TV by the flickering light coming from the right. There was a pair of windows to his left and he peered into the home where a lavish dining room was still waiting for it's guests to arrive. To his right was another window looking into a dark living room where a TV was droning on. He could barely hear it but the distinct buzzing of the Emergency Broadcast Signal was clear through the glass. He turned back to the door and was about to knock when he saw a sticky note on the mirror:
DAD,
Went to the Ellis Farm. Keys inside for
the truck in the barn.
Love,
Baby J.
It only took a moment for the note to sink in that no one was home and that help might be further away that he hoped. There was older telephone wired into the wall on the table in the vestibule which he hoped worked. He tried the door and much to his bewilderment it was unlocked as he let himself in, calling out to make sure he didn't wind up on the business end of a gun.
"Hello? Door's open." he shouted, but got only the Emergency Broadcast Signal. "I'm going to use the phone."
With no response he grabbed the phone only to jump back at the strange metallic whistling coming through the receiver.
"Damn," he grumbled, "doesn't take longer for shit to fall apart."
The whistling tones of the broadcast came on as the feed went live to a disheveled reporter in the other room as Ben circled through to the kitchen to check out the rest of the house. The kitchen was modern compared to the rustic home and took up the back half of the house, with another doorway leading into the dining area. Back in the living room was the staircase leading upstairs with a closest just beneath it. He found a few shell casings but no shotgun in sight. He turned to the TV for a moment, nervously glancing outside at the open driveway and the dark road beyond.
"We are coming to you live from the KZMO TV station in our third shift since this crisis began." the reporter grumbled looking a bit nervous as though he were hoping this was still a joke. "We have received reports from scientists in Washington D.C. confirming that this is NOT mass hysteria, but a genuine phenomenon. As of 2 p.m. this afternoon reports of mass murder being committed by a virtual army of unidentified assassins has been sited as the result of dead bodies being reactivated by an unknown source. It is hard to believe, but these are the facts as currently known.
"Many believe there is a more sinister agent at work, the possibility of brainwashed terror cells becoming operative has been theory flung about by the internet and various news sources. As of this time the Office of Homeland Security has debunked this rumor, though it can not be fully ruled out. Civil and social services have been disbanded, leaving many without power or water, some without gas. Law enforcement and critical medical services are so overwhelmed with calls for help that citizens have begun banding together to into vigilante groups.
"Jesus Christ," Ben moaned softly as the newsreel showed riots in D.C. and groups of armed men taking to the countryside to quell the onset of the end.
He suddenly didn't feel safe downstairs, rather he be high up should his body force him to sleep. He began to climb the steps carefully, checking out the rooms as the TV went on down below.
"-has not been established as to the cause of the phenomenon. What is known for sure is that dead bodies with an intact brain will continuing reanimating under this unknown agent and continue attacking the living. Reports from examiners have determined in all cases that the killers will eat the flesh of their victims. Specially equipped units of the National Guard were deployed today in the hope that scientists could have specimens for study. It is unknown how or why the government has issued orders to seize all dead bodies-"
He came to an empty bedroom and sat down listening to the drone beginning to fade and soon he was completely gone into sleep.
"-Houston, Texas has reported several rescue stations being overrun. National Guard units are being deployed as rioting continues in Chicago this morning, moving into it's fifth hour as citizens have begun rebelling against the government's mandated seizure of all viable corpses. 'Families must forgo the dubious comforts a funeral will give,' stated Colonel Xavier Sans commenting on the citizenry's refusal to cooperate with authorities-"
Ben awoke from his troubled sleep to the TV downstairs and the morning light coming through bright and strong as it was. All he could think about was his ex-wife and how she probably one of those things chowing her new boyfriends cock. His mouth was dry and horrible as he stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the tap; shoveling water into his maw as he rubbed his eyes intently. He stretched and noticed something in the waste bin: a pregnancy test.
He felt a chill go down his spine as he turned to see a pair of familiar faces on the nightstand smiling back at him.
"Dear God," he said softly as Judith and Tomas hugged each other, probably now beyond the grave.
He felt momentarily sick as he left their room and headed back down toward the blaring TV. It felt wrong as he raided their fridge, but he was hungry and he felt weak without having eaten anything. He voraciously drank some of the orange juice, the cold drink soothing his sore throat as it went. Whether Divine Intervention or just blind luck he was struck by the notion that there had to have been a reason he wound up here. With his hunger satisfied he came back to the vestibule where the note hung still.
"-rescue stations are opening all across the country as more and more lives are affected. As of this time, it unclear how many we are facing at this moment. Federal Agencies are asking citizens to begin making their way to close by shelters until this crisis has been resolved. Officials in France have declared an emergency status, asking their citizens to help with the rescue effort-"
Ben felt a glimmer of hope when he opened the drawer in the cabinet and saw a set of keys inside.
Sure enough there was an older Ford Bronco sitting in the barn outside and it had plenty of gas to get him to Willard or even McKeesport if he wanted. Ben dropped the truck into gear and headed down to the edge of the driveway before shooting a glance back up at the house. He stared at the mailbox a moment, then left a note of his own on it before pulling away:
Judith and Tomas
R.I.P. Ellis Farm
Barbra opened her eyes from a fitful haze of what she thought was dreams, but only incoherent noise of her head buzzing from the morphine. She was in room made up of cloth dividers as the McKeesport VFW seal hung proudly above her. She looked lazily about realizing the only clothes she had were the bandages on her shoulder. Gone was her dress from J.C. Penny and even that cute lacey bra from Dillard's she spent so much on. In it's place was a bloodied bandage and some old clothes on a chair nearby. She felt nauseated as she stood up, forcing herself to dress in what was left for her. Hardly anything covered as her nipples went erect with the chill of the A/C blasting away, but she could them as much as she could beneath a jean shirt as she made her way to the outside.
People from all walks of life were all over in cots, some crying softly, others tending to loved ones injured. She was alone since her brother was killed and felt worse having to kill him again. She noticed armed men coming in from the double doors at the end, carrying in a hunter in plaid that had a piece of his face blown off as they hurried him to the medical unit at the other end.
She stumbled out into the daylight while the drone of helicopters roared overhead and the crackle of fresh barbeque greeted her nose with it's enticing aromas. Food trucks were parked all over, taking in the business as folks weary from the rescue efforts came in looking for grub. A few police officers stood over a map, presumably negotiating where the next operation should begin with a couple of National Guardsman in uniform. A news van was nearby interviewing soldiers and volunteers alike when they spotted her, hurrying over as if they had the scoop of the century on their hands.
"Miss," the older gentlemen said approaching her with the microphone, "With rescue efforts underway, how has this crisis affected you?"
Barbra stared blankly and said, "I don't know. I'm not from here. I lost my brother last night,"
The reporter looked a bit embarrassed before hurrying toward some top brass landing in the parking lot adjacent to the VFW. She spotted a revolver left unattended by a radio console assembled from various gear and slipped it under her clothes, then began scoping out a ride in the parking lot. She jumped at the firecracker pops of pistols and high-powered rifles thundering down the empty street by a police barricade. The VFW was surrounded by a center of strip malls, all but abandoned in the daylight. The roads in were closed and guarded by heavily armed police and volunteer squads. The moment she turned she saw three shambling figures cut down in an instant.
"They're dead, all messed up." a hunter laughed with his buddy as they strolled by.
She spotted an grey muzzle by a truck, the older dog man chugging wistfully on his pipe as she drew the near and cracking a smile until he saw the gun.
"Take me to Willard." she demanded pushing the gun into his side.
"Honey, I don't think you want to go that way." he said unflinchingly.
"Don't call me honey, sugar, any of that. I need to go back to Willard. I promised someone I would go back." she growled.
He gnawed on the pipe a minute, then shouted toward a group of men at the top his lungs.
"Michael, get the boys. We got a rescue!" he shouted as she backed down in embarrassment.
"What in the name- Girl you shouldn't be up!" the lion man said towering over her with his thick arms across his massive chest. "She needs a lift to Willard, left a man behind," he said chugging on his pipe.
The lion man, Michael's, face blanched at the thought.
"There's nothing left in Willard. The whole town is gone."
"No, there's a farm south of there. I left him in the house." she said her voice beginning to crack.
Michael took on a look of determination and whistled to his friends, then within minutes they were on the road back to Willard. Barbra looked out the window at the dying landscape, watching as lines of men strode valiantly into danger and exterminating anything that moved.
"You know, you are damn lucky I'm nice." the gray muzzle said manifesting his own pistol, "Or I woulda killed you for pulling that stunt. But a lady in distress is still a lady."
She shivered to herself as the road twisted on for almost an eternity.