The staccato pounding of the 50 cal. machine gun tore at the howling winds, the shrieking chopper blades, like ethereal monsters in a twilight battle, roaring their fury,. Dark, sneering shapes below vanished into the black of the buildings, shops of another, softer time, as concrete exploded from the hail of bullets.
His mouth ripped into a snarl, he stood gripping the gun at the door of the helicopter, his white knuckled hands shaking with the power of the machine, spitting bullets into the air, shredding the pavement. Eyes bright, he searched for any sign of life, of hope other than the vile shapes below, glaring and growling their reeking breath up at him through the fading light. Ahead a shape caught his eye, a bobbing, almost glowing golden white object.
“I see something,” he cried to the pilot, who had already sped up, catching the fleeing light. Over it, he saw a girl, no more than 20, running as fast as she could, bright blonde hair flaring out around her in the blasting wind. She looked up, blue eyes wide, bewildered at the sudden roar of the blades overhead.
“We can help you!” He yelled out of the open door. “Can you make it as far as the Wal-Mart parking lot?”
The girl stumbled, fell, golden hair whipping around her face, panic frozen in her sky blue eyes. Cursing, he pushed past the machine gun and leapt through the door. The air rushed around him as he plummeted to the roof of the shop below the helicopter. Black shapes rushed from the dark openings of the buildings, windows bristling with glass like teeth. Hitting the roof, he rolled, pushing off the edge and falling to the street, ripping his knife from his belt. He landed next to the girl, snarling at the shadows.
“Stand up,” he said, slowly backing up. “Run.” Breathing in short, panicked gasps, she scrambled to her feet, turned, and bolted down the street. Whirlwinds of dust and sand whipped at his face, his clothes, as the helicopter blades cut the air. “Meet us in that parking lot!” he screamed up at the pilot, and then turned and ran after the girl. His long, loping strides caught her short, clumsy steps in seconds, as they skidded to a stop in front of a barrier of debris, cars, bricks, and plywood blocking the street.
“This way,” He yelled, as he turned right and shot down a dark alley. All down the street blackness bleakly stared out at them through gaping, glassless windows in the buildings. Surrounded by dirty, stained brick and cement, graffiti shouting in places on the walls gang signs or protests to the shroud of chaos that wrapped the earth.
Pounding boots followed them into the alley, at least five of the men pursuing them, seeking unimaginable, horrible things. Evil beings of extreme horror, the humans infesting this town were without hope, except for the occasional survivor, like the golden haired girl. She stumbled once more, and he grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet, leading her into another open street. She collapsed to her knees in front of a dusty blue car, gasping and sobbing for her breath, hands pressed into the asphalt, hair falling in a veil over her face.
He glanced around the cluttered street, looking for something, anything to defend himself with. Seeing a rusty piece of pipe, he dove for it. The echoing footsteps in the alley were growing louder, and one growling, spitting figure burst into the open space. Clad in heavy leather boots, ripped and grimy jeans stretched tight over his thighs. A flannel shirt hung open over his greasy chest, half covered with a wild black beard. Yellow eyes shone from under limp, greasy strands of hanging black hair. He roared, wordlessly, satisfaction at catching his prey. Swinging his pipe, the man whirled around, and with a flick of his wrist sent his knife spinning through the air. Stumbling back, the man in the flannel shirt roared again, the knife sticking out of his heaving chest.
“Time to go,” the man said, leaning on his pipe and lifting the girl off her knees.
“What’s your name?” She said, sky blue eyes looking through her shroud of hair at him.
“Joshua. Come on.” He took off, pulling her behind him, down the street. As the skies darkened, thunder cracked overhead, lightning splitting the sky, for a moment throwing light on the fleeing figures. Joshua glanced over, seeing the image of the girl, black rings under haggard eyes, the sharp shadow of her long nose stretching across her cheek, her lips parted, gasping for breath. The emptiness following the thunder was silent, still, breathtaking, and the rain began roaring down. They blindly forged ahead, the deluge soaking them to the skin in seconds.
“Not much farther,” Joshua spat through the rain.
