Into the Badlands by Brian J. Jarrett Read Free Book Online Page A

impact.
    Despite the broken bones, it tried to get up. Immediately Jim appeared and delivered two hammer blows to the base of the carrier's neck. A short scream slipped out of Sandy's mouth before she had the sense to muffle it. After the hammer blows the thing stopped trying to get up again. It now just moaned loudly, expelling the sound of a mortally wounded animal. As it breathed, its lungs made wet, slurping sounds, as if they were filled with fluid. The tragic figure squirmed on the floor, writhing in pain, bleeding and moaning.
    They all knew that noise could draw other carriers, provided they weren't already there. And, even if it wasn't human anymore it was still suffering. Dave lifted the hatchet and drove it forcefully into the back of the carrier's neck, burying it deeply into the thing's spinal column. It then went limp and silent. He pulled the hatchet out, shaking the infected blood off to the side.
    “Sandy! You okay?” Dave called.
    A pause. No response.
    “Sandy!”
    “Yes, I'm okay!” she replied, shaken. She sounded as if she'd been crying.
    Dave flipped on the flashlight and quickly found Sandy in the darkness. He looked at Jim. “We gotta get moving right now.”
    He then turned back to Sandy. “Grab the backpack and let's go.”
    She picked up the backpack, slinging it over her shoulder as she and Jim filed in behind Dave. He stepped over the carrier. As he did he envisioned for one sickening moment the thing reaching up and grabbing him by the leg. It didn't happen, but it was a difficult feeling to shake. It wasn't until he cleared the thing that he noticed how badly it smelled. If death wasn’t horrible enough on its own the virus made it even worse.
    The three of them climbed the steps: Dave first, then Sandy and Jim. Dave paused at the top of the steps and looked around the main floor of the house. It looked empty; apparently the thing had been alone. Daylight was fading, but there was still enough light to see clearly enough. He could see the pots and pans and other items the carrier had knocked to the floor during its rampage upstairs.
    “It's clear,” he called back to the others. “Let's go.”
    Dave walked to the front door. It was standing wide open. Sandy had forgotten to lock it. He closed his eyes, frustrated, then exhaled. The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry , he thought. He’d told her a dozen times not to leave the doors unlocked; this time it almost got them killed. He moved toward the door, then turned back to Sandy and Jim to get their attention.
    Suddenly Sandy screamed then ran to the kitchen. Dave turned toward the door just in time to see a large carrier, this one at least six feet tall, running toward him. He barely had time to react before the thing was through the open door and upon him. The bloody hatchet flew from his hand, striking the floor a few yards away. Dave landed squarely on his back with the carrier on top, his head striking the wooden floor upon impact. Sandy screamed from the kitchen as she huddled in the corner.
    The carrier was screaming, blackened teeth bared, its breath rank from the foul garbage it ate to survive. It smelled of urine and feces; the smell was overpowering up close. It exhibited no sign of physical handicap.
    Suddenly Jim appeared over the snarling thing and swung the hammer down squarely on its head. A dull thud sounded, like the sound of striking a melon, and the thing screamed even louder, turning its attention toward Jim.
    Jim followed up with another blow of the hammer, this one caught it between the eyes. It was less powerful than the first blow, but was enough to knock the thing to the ground. Dave scrambled onto his knees, his head pounding from the impact with the floor, then crawled over to his where his hatchet lay.
    Incredibly the thing started to rise, then began screaming again. Dave felt his blood run cold; it was an absolutely terrifying thing to behold. He gathered up his courage, then swung the hatchet