That town gave me a terrible feeling. When you can't see your surroundings, your mind starts playing cruel tricks on you. Every sound feels like footsteps, every echo like breathing right behind your back.
I liked the noises around us less and less. The rustling grew more frequent, as if something was moving alongside us unhurried, but never falling behind.
"We need to pick up the pace. Stalkers are watching us," I said quietly.
"Combat ready," the sergeant said, drawing the pistol from the holster on his thigh and handing it to me.
I quickly assessed the situation, feeling a surge of confidence as the weapon settled into my hand. It was something, at least better than just a knife.
"Ehhkh"
An infected burst out of the fog.
My reaction kicked in faster than thought. My arm moved on its own the knife drove straight into the stalker's skull. Almost immediately after, runners followed, tearing out of the mist. Stealth was pointless now. I raised the pistol and opened controlled fire. I didn't have many rounds, so I mostly covered myself and Eric while the sergeant handled the bulk of it.
"Don't stop! Move to the dock, now!" the lieutenant shouted from behind us.
More and more rasping sounds echoed through the streets. Along with them came that sickening clicking by sound alone, I knew a horde was closing in. We were forced to change course due to the dense concentration of infected, and that pushed us too far from the river.
The city stood right on the water. We would've had to pass through it anyway, but now we weren't just off course we were being driven deeper inside.
"We won't make it. We need shelter," the lieutenant said.
Pushing farther into the tightening jaws of the city, we reached an old building. My pistol had been empty for a while now, and I fought however I could, using the knife. At one point, I saw Eric being swarmed. Barely registering it, I hurled the blade. Disarmed, a stalker as if it had been waiting for this lunged at me and knocked me to the ground.
Its teeth came dangerously close, but I managed to hold its head back with one hand, clamping the lower jaw with the other, forcing it away from me. My grip tightened more and more until I tore its jaw clean off.
I shoved the corpse aside, got to my feet, and barely made it inside the building.
"Now!" the lieutenant said, standing by the door.
I rushed in, and the doors slammed shut behind me. Scanning the room, I spotted something heavy a cabinet. We dragged it over, and I was immediately helped to barricade the entrance. The infected tried to break through, but failed.
I looked at the windows they were boarded up and reinforced. The place had once been a library: rows of bookshelves, piles of books buried under layers of dust. Someone had lived here for a while, clearly preparing it as a shelter.
"Clear the floors," the lieutenant ordered.
Then he turned to me.
"Victor."
I looked up and took the weapon. A KRISS Vector submachine gun, designed for special operations units. 9×19 caliber. Thirty-three–round magazine.
We needed to wait for the fog to lift and move on. The problem was, we barely had any time left. The mission was burning they needed the helicopters and supplies urgently. The risk was unavoidable now.
I checked the remaining ammo, seated the magazine, racked the bolt, and took up position upstairs on the second floor. The windows up there weren't reinforced, giving a clear view of what was happening below.
And there were a lot of infected.
They kept converging from all sides, never stopping their attempts to break in. I didn't know how long the doors and windows would hold, but judging by their persistence not long.
"Clear," I said.
"Everyone regroup," the lieutenant said. "The dock is about three hundred meters from here. Yes, we pulled every infected in the area toward us but that means our destination is clear now. We'll have more time to get to the boats and get out."
He paused briefly, scanning everyone with his eyes.
"We've got a few explosive charges. We plant them by the basement entrance. Once all the infected flood inside, we exit through the window to the street. Drag all the cabinets to the stairwell don't let them reach us."
We got to work immediately. Everything had to be done fast.
"Detonating," Harper said, arming the detonator. The explosion followed almost instantly. It went off on the first floor, and infected poured through the breach.
"Move! Descend!"
The number of infected outside was dropping rapidly there were barely any left. We opened the window and hurried down the rope. Slipping away from the library under the cover of fog, we managed to reach the dock. Several wooden piers and the boats tied to them had turned green over time from moisture and moss, but the interiors were dry meaning they weren't leaking.
*image*
Once we were in the boat, we finally pushed out onto the river. The current carried us toward relative safety. As the heat of the fight faded, my mind returned to the moment I tore the stalker's jaw off my arm had filled with inhuman strength as I ripped it free.
I rested my left hand on the edge of the boat, gripping it so tightly that I began to hear the distinct cracking of wood. The others didn't hear it, but my hearing caught every strained sound.
We moved slowly and soon reached the main river. As we approached the bridges, it became clear that what had once been roads crossing them had completely collapsed, making any detour far more difficult.
"Now that we're getting close to the target, it's time you told us the plan," I said, tightening my grip on my weapon.
"We've known each other for less than two days. I'll be honest I don't like sitting in the same boat with you," Harper began. His voice was hard, but fatigue weighed behind it. "But you're a good fighter, and you follow orders no matter what. So I'll be direct. You and I have a chance to save forty thousand people. Not something small an entire city. Our lives mean nothing compared to that. I'm ready to give mine for it. Everything I have. What about you?"
"Victor," Eric said quietly.
"We'll see if it works," I replied, not taking my eyes off the water.
"Hmph. It will. Or we die," the lieutenant said.
"Why couldn't you produce more missiles to wipe out the infected?" I asked.
"Because of a compound used in the herbicide. It's derived from grain crops. And the decision to burn the fields was, unfortunately, rushed. Back then, everything was chaos. Many orders were issued hastily and without thought and they were carried out. Commanders changed fast. One day he's in charge, the next he's infected. And you don't know whether to follow old orders or wait for new ones," the lieutenant replied.
"So there won't be any food… or herbicides anymore?" Eric asked.
"There's still a chance to sow crops in uninfected regions. Places with low population density, where the cordyceps presence is weak. If we plant there, there's a high probability the crops won't be infected. So yes it's possible. If not for those bandits, we'd already be heading either to Michigan or Virginia to seed the fields. That would've given us food and a way to feed the people," the lieutenant said.
"Damn bandits. Stubborn bastards, dumb as rocks," the sergeant muttered.
"I thought you were all on the same side," I said.
"We are. Together. But separately, each of us has our own problems. And the distances between us they're becoming fatal. Our main air forces were stationed in open areas. Defending them from the infected was nearly impossible. All we managed in the first months was to significantly reduce the number of infected and slow their spread. But even then, we lost almost all of our air power. Our naval forces allowed us to preserve only a fraction of the aircraft. Heavy bombers were lost completely."
That's what happened.