Twisted Dreams Series: Execution (short story)
Every breath she took seemed to pierce her lungs, her legs ached and her trigger finger was sore. The high pitched calls behind her deafened her panting and encouraged her to continue running.
The parking garage had minimal light and the sparse vehicles provided inadequate cover. Her backpack pounded against her lower back, the automatic slung wildly by her side. In the swinging beam of light, she could see the stairwell exit door only a few feet away. If she made it to the stairwell door, that could buy her some time. Almost there – Shit! The door was locked! Her heart beat accelerated as she yanked angrily at the door handle.
No need to cry – she tried her best thus far. She turned around and took a deep breath, gripping her automatic in preparation for the creatures to come. She could hear the calls getting closer, and the scratching of their claws against the pavement. She can catch faint images of their figures in the flickering light – she decided it was time for the automatic. She hoisted the automatic to her shoulder and began unleashing bullets. With every howl, she was assured a hit. But there were too many of them, this realization began to hinder her aim. Soon, there were more unanswered shots that howls. Now she can plainly see them – a few strands of hair, grey rotted skin, bleeding open wounds, overgrown claws, each of various heights and mouths wide open releasing their high pitched calls.
‘Concentrate! Aim for the eyes!’ she screamed in her mind. Too late – she was bum rushed – they were on her now. She began beating them off with the automatic. These things were not strong, due to the continuous decrease in blood cells. Not much force was necessary to beat them off; the problem was the overwhelming number. She continued jabbing and swinging the automatic – when she was then grabbed roughly by the leg and slammed to the pavement. She pushed the pain to the back of her mind, and continued beating and jabbing with the automatic as they attempted to snap and claw at the face. She let out a cry of frustration of frustration upon seeing another group run to join the attempted kill. Greed consumed the group, causing her to be swung wildly from creature to creature – pulling her almost a foot from the stairwell door.
Boom!! Boom!! Boom!! Three explosive shots fired from a light behind her, and then she felt herself pulled through the doorway. Salvation at last! Her commander and comrades along with the bitten child were huddled in the stairway.
‘Ground floor’ the commander shouted. The group of seven rushed the remaining two flights of stairs to the empty street below. Once there, the half bitten child was seated in a swing chair a few feet away from the street. What was occurring further down the street was a disturbing sight.
The creatures were holding a 10ft x 10ft quilt as a shield. They were shaking the quilt and making ghostly ‘ooohh’ sounds from behind. The commander lined up the six into a firing squad that stretched across the width of the street. She was order to cover the back of the line, just in case something tried to escape from the parking garage. From the swing chair, the bitten child hissed at them weakly, inner demons fighting with his innocence.
A stray of sunlight peeked from behind a cloud, creating a perfectly circular sun spot on the concrete. She ran over to the bitten child and brought him to the sun spot. She forced his face into it and restrained him in that spot as he cried. The smell of burnt acidic flesh filled the air. His skin smoked but showed no physical damage. She smiled, the demons inside were dying.
‘Go!’ shouted the commander. Following command, in trained unison the six opened fire on the quilt.
- wake -
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