Read Bestial Online

Authors: William D. Carl

Bestial (35 page)

“I have been dead a long time now,” Andrei said. Then he swept Rick up in a bear hug and twirled him around a few times. His laughter came out in deep bellowing guffaws, and soon everyone was grinning and patting him on the back. “I go home now!” Andrei cried. “I see my wife and children. I go home now.”

Laughing, Rick handed the dart gun back to the Siberian, and Andrei hung it from his shoulder. He grinned and patted the rifle.

Meanwhile, on one side of the river, twenty more lycanthropes joined the others, trying to figure out a way to get to the boat.

On the opposite bank, Captain Burns was ordering more soldiers to guard the shoreline, and the first creature started to lope across what was left of the Brent Spence Bridge, followed by a dozen others.

A gunshot rang out, echoing between the metal bridge and the windswept water, blasting the head off of the lead monster. Its body
fell off the jagged edge where explosives had blasted the Kentucky end of the bridge into the water, leaving broken concrete and metal rods sticking out of the collapsed section. The creature smacked into one of the rods and hung from the end, like a flag in the wind. Eventually, the corpse twisted too much. It fell into the churning waters of the Ohio River and disappeared from sight.

46

SEPTEMBER 18, 7:05 P.M.

C
aptain Burns knew the situation was about to get precarious on his side of the river. The creatures were already amassing on the other side, howling and leaping into the air, snapping their massive jaws. He wondered if they’d already devoured everyone on the Cincinnati side, depleted their food source, if that was why they were so determined to cross to Kentucky.

The transformation seemed to take less time each evening. Tonight, it happened in the blink of an eye. If he had not prepared for this moment all day, he would have been flabbergasted at how quickly people dropped to all fours.

Looking at the line of soldiers, a sea of orange in their biohazard suits, their rifles aimed at a point halfway across the bridges, he swelled in admiration for the men and women defending this shoreline. They came from all walks of life: family men, husbands, wives, girlfriends, sons and daughters. They’d grown up in the city or on surrounding farms. The two common factors they shared were that they hadn’t changed into beasts, and they had all rushed to stop the spread of the virus. With a few exceptions, the disease hadn’t radiated beyond the boundaries of Cincinnati proper, thank God. Burns didn’t want to contemplate what would have happened if the government hadn’t moved so quickly.

There it was again, that nagging at the back of his skull when he thought about how swiftly the Pentagon had deployed troops. Shaking the doubt from his head, he faced the city as the first wave of creatures began to run across the bridges. There were dozens, maybe hundreds of them, an onslaught of teeth and claws, madness made flesh.

Raising his arm, he shouted, “Ready, men? Steady with your shots. Make every bullet count. Steady … aim … FIRE!”

As hundreds of bullets whizzed past him, he watched as the first group of monsters were mowed down, red, wet holes appearing across their furry bodies. They toppled onto one another, forming the first of many small fortresses made up of lycanthrope corpses. The next wave of creatures would need to crawl over the obstructions. When they did, the troops would be ready for them.

As several beasts retreated to the Cincinnati side, Taylor Burns looked through his binoculars at the tugboat anchored in the center of the river. What he saw amazed him.

“Good job, men!” he shouted over the crack and pinging of ammunition being fired. Another creature fell as it retreated, the back of its skull opening like a ripe cantaloupe.

To his second in command, Burns shouted, “Hey, Granger. Come over here.”

The smaller man scuttled over to his superior officer and saluted. “Yes, sir? Seems like a lot of them tonight, and it looks like they’re pretty damned determined.”

“Why don’t you take a gander out at that boat and those barges?”

“Sir?”

“Said the night wind to the little lamb …”

Tom Granger cocked his head in confusion, peering through the pouring rain. Wiping the water from his faceplate, he raised his own binoculars and squinted through them, adjusting the focus.

“Do you see what I see?” Burns continued.

“They didn’t change!”

“That’s right. You think that’s why they placed themselves securely within our sights? Someplace where we could observe that they were immune to this disease?”

“Sounds about right, sir. Should we let them float to this side?”

General Burns chewed the inside of his bottom lip, refusing to display any sign of nervousness. “I dunno. They could still be carriers. If they come over here, we could all be infected.”

“Not with these suits, sir. We’ve been burning all those bodies
over in the parking lots; they were as contaminated as they could be, and still—”

“Maybe we could have some kind of isolation tent made up. You think you could rig something like that?”

“I don’t think it’ll be a problem, sir.”

Burns grunted, then looked up at the Brent Spence Bridge as the next horde of monsters swarmed over their fallen brethren. Gunshots pierced the air, and thunder followed the fingers of lightning that reached toward the Earth. Like the hands of God, playing with His toys.

Burns said, “Get to it, then. If we can keep them locked in a tent, something pretty damned airtight, I’ll feel comfortable bringing them over. Until then, the poor bastards are on their own.”

On the choppy water, the coal barges attached to the tugboat swung around like the second hand of a clock, gliding slowly in a semicircle, turning the whole boat to face the other direction. The people on it scurried to secure the tug.

Then something splashed into the water. Trying to escape the men’s rifles, the beasts were leaping from the bridge. They were landing uncomfortably close to the coal barges.

“Poor sons of bitches,” Burns said; then he turned his attention to his radio. The uninfected survivors were important enough to report to central command.

47

SEPTEMBER 18, 7:18 P.M.

A
s the rain came down in sheets, the river swelled with higher and higher waves, which tossed the tugboat enough to make Rick lurch over the railing and vomit into the water. Lightning shot through the air, and thunder followed with alarming volume.

Everyone leaned against the side of the boat, holding on to the railing. The rain made the varnished wood slick, and they had a rough time keeping a good grip.

“Oh Jesus,” Rick said, raising his head and wiping his mouth.

Chesya scowled at him. “Rick …”

“I was praying, not cussing. We need this shit to stop.”

Cathy asked, “Do you think they’ve spotted us yet? Realized we’re different from the others?”

“I don’t know,” Chesya said. “They look pretty busy. They may not have noticed our little group with all the shooting they’re doing.”

“How many of those things you think they’ve killed?” Christian asked, his arm held protectively in front of his mother, securing her against the railing.

“Not enough,” Rick gasped. “Never … enough.” He had to turn suddenly, feeling the bile raise in the back of his throat.

“It isn’t that bad,” Cathy said. “I was in a hurricane once in a sailboat, when—”

“I’m not seasick,” he replied between gagging sounds. “I just don’t like the way the boat’s moving.”

“Speaking of moving …” Chesya said.

Andrei pointed to the barges, which had begun to swing around. “We are moving!” he shouted.

Chesya tightened her grip. “Hold on, everybody!”

The barges pulled the boat around in a semicircle, then stopped with a jolt that dropped Cathy and Christian to the floor. They hurried to grab hold of something as the boat bobbed then steadied, facing the opposite direction of the river’s current.

“I don’t like this,” Cathy said. “We should be pointed the other way.”

“You have a suggestion?” Rick asked. “I’d be glad to hear it.”

“We can’t pull anchor,” she said. “We’d float at the mercy of the river and the storm. The engines certainly wouldn’t help us. They’d probably just burn out trying to pull us the wrong way.”

A huge wave lifted them, then dropped them against the water. Andrei, losing his grip, slid across the deck. When his body smacked against the back edge, he flipped, and his legs dropped into the water between the barge and the tugboat. Screaming, he tried to haul himself back out of the river as the barge inched closer and closer to the boat, riding the crest of another wave.

“He’ll be crushed!” Cathy shouted, and she dove forward, sliding on her stomach on the well-varnished deck. When she slammed into the opposite side of the boat, she placed her knees against the railing and grabbed Andrei’s wrists.

The barge rose above his head and shoulders, and, as if in slow motion, tilted toward him at a forty-degree angle. It slid forward, threatening to cut him in half.

Cathy caught hold of the dart gun’s strap, still wrapped around the Siberian’s shoulder, and she pulled, unaware that Christian and Chesya had joined her.

Chesya grabbed Andrei’s flailing hand, pulling him against the side of the boat, and Christian clutched the man’s shirt collar, lifting the heavy Russian as he would a kitten by the scruff of its neck.

With a terrible groan and the crack of wood, the coal barge bumped the block and pulley that attached it to the tug, stopping about a foot away from the railing.

Chesya, Christian, and Cathy pulled Andrei on board. Wood splintered as the pulley was forced against the back of the boat, and the two men and the two women crawled away on hands and knees.

The boat was taking on a lot of water from the storm. “Rick!” Cathy shouted. “Start the bilge pumps! They’re under the cabin!”

He yelled back, “Fuck off! I’m not going anywhere.”

The wood behind Cathy cracked loudly, and part of the ship’s aft was pulled away by the strength of the now-retreating coal barge. It had slammed into the boat with enough force to pull a two-foot chunk out of the side, leaving behind long splinters.

“Rick, goddamn it, we’re gonna sink if you don’t! And I mean now!” Cathy turned to Chesya, who was huddling next to her, and she apologized.

“No worries,” Chesya said. “You know what you’re doing a lot better than I do.”

Reluctantly, Rick let loose of the side of the boat and threw himself down the small flight of stairs. He couldn’t hear his footsteps over the roar of the storm and the incessant pounding of the rain. As he reached the bottom, he realized he was almost knee-deep in dirty water.

“Oh, here we go again,” he said. “More problems.”

After a brief search, he flicked a switch on the pumps, and he was rewarded with the sound of water draining back into the river. He leaned forward, catching himself with his arms and heaving a huge sigh of relief.

Outside, wood shattered and iron moaned as it rubbed against more wood and metal. Rick rushed above deck, blinking at the rain that suddenly blurred his vision.

The others had made their way to the front of the boat, but they were all staring at what was happening aft.

“I got the pumps on,” he said.

“I don’t know if that’s enough,” Cathy replied, and he followed their line of sight.

The back of the boat was attached to the first barge by a single cable, which was stuck in the pulley. As the next wave lifted the boat, then the barge, Rick desperately reached for anything that could steady him, finally clutching something metal. The others began to slide away from the cabin. Rick fumbled with the microphone of the radio. He kept hold of it as he slipped toward the hole carved in the
side of the boat by the barge’s incessant pummeling. By the time he stopped, the mic cord was stretched taut.

Then, with barely a clanking sound, the radio snapped from its moorings in the cabin. Rick raised his hands to his head just in time to deflect the flying radio box. It crushed two fingers and scraped the skin from the back of his wrist, then smacked into the railing and teetered into the river.

“Radio’s gone!” he shouted.

Nobody listened to him. They were all watching as another gargantuan wave raised the barge high above the little boat. The cable that had kept the barge connected snapped loose with a loud twang and whipped wildly through the air.

“Get down!” Cathy screamed.

Andrei was the last to drop. The cable traveled harmlessly over the heads of Cathy, Christian, and Chesya. When it reached Andrei, he was on his knees, and the cable lashed the side of his face, severing the top of his left ear and slicing a bloody path across his cheek. He fell to the deck with a howl, pressing his hands against his ear.

Rick crawled over to him. “How bad is it?” he asked, and Andrei showed him the damage. Swallowing, Rick said, “I’ve seen worse. You’ll be all right.”

“But … so much blood!”

“Guys! The barge …”

Rick looked up. Lifted to its highest point by the big wave, the barge began to descend toward the back of the tugboat.

Beside them, something landed in the water, dropped as if from heaven.

Chesya shouted, “What now?”

One of the creatures broke the surface next to the tugboat. It grasped the railing with one clawed hand and launched itself onto the deck, two feet from Rick, halfway between him and the cabin.

The barge crashed against the side of the boat with a noise that seemed to overwhelm every sense at the same time. It reminded Rick of when the hotel had crumbled to the ground.

The lycanthrope roared, bared its dripping fangs, took a step toward Rick.

The heavy coal barge caused the tugboat to tilt, the cabin rising to the sky.

“Come on!” Cathy shouted, and she and Christian jumped over to the coal barge.

Chesya also leaped from the tugboat, feeling a comforting weight beneath her feet when she landed. The barge seemed solid, stabilized by the heaviness of the coal, even if it was rocking and rolling with the waves.

When Rick started to run forward, the boat inclined to an angle nearly perpendicular to the water, and he tumbled, slammed against the side of the barge and rolled onto its ledge. Andrei dropped beside him, blood from his wound spattering all over Rick’s face.

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