Return

my body. I expect the growling and tearing to begin but the night runner on top of me doesn’t move. I push the inert body off and sit up. The blaring light from Robert’s flashlight stares into my eyes from the end of the aisle, blinding me and not allowing me to make out anything behind it. The light pauses momentarily before flashing back to the area on top of the shelves. That was a close one. Thanks bud.

A warning signals inside of me. The kind of sixth sense like when you have your back to the ocean and a large wave is about to break over you. You look back over your shoulder just in time to see it crash down. I shine my light upward to catch a night runner leaping in mid-air above me. The M-4 in my right hand barks and kicks slightly as I fire at the night runner descending swiftly toward me. It is coming downward like a receiver going airborne and diving to catch a pass; head down and arms spread outward. It is shrieking with its pale mouth wide open and its eyes are locked on mine. The slow motion scene allows my mind to register and record minute details; the bloody and torn blue short sleeve shirt with ribbons and name tag still attached but mostly hidden by the dark blood stains, the NCO stripes sewn on the sleeves, the wild look in its eyes, the silver watch and gold wedding band. They apparently didn’t get them all, I think as my first round strikes the left side of its chest, my second hitting it in the mouth and my third impacting immediately after on the right cheek just under the eyes. The force of the rounds hit like sledge hammers causing its trajectory to alter in midair. A pinkish mist fills my sight as the back of its head vanishes into the air behind it. The shriek stops immediately and it slams onto top of the shelf above me, knocking off the items sitting there, and it hits the floor beside me with a loud thump.

I shove the first night runner off of my legs and stand quickly shining my light into the rafters of the open ceiling above me. There is movement in them as more night runners move along the steel beams high above. I fire at one centered in my beam almost directly above me and see blood blossom on its torso as my bullets fly true. It releases its grip on the beam and begins its long fall to the floor with an agonized shriek.

“Watch out above! They’re in the rafters!” I yell running back down the aisle where Robert, Gonzalez, and McCafferty continue to battle the seemingly endless horde.

“Horace, keep the front covered with the others,” I say into the radio. “We’ll be withdrawing back to you down the last aisle.”

“Roger that, sir,” I hear her reply.

“Make sure you cover the shelves and rafters as we pull back. We also have a man down in the aisle,” I add into the radio reaching the end of the aisle.

“Will do, sir,” she responds.

“Gonzalez, McCafferty, we’re pulling back to the front down the end aisle. Gonzalez, when I say so, pull back through us. You’re point. Quickly but carefully!” I yell above the gunfire still erupting.

“Hooah, sir!” Gonzalez responds.

I reload and add my rounds to an atmosphere thick with steel and the smell of gunpowder. The rafters are full of night runners leaping their way towards us. Bodies fall from the heights as fire is shifted from Horace’s group and from Robert’s and mine. The top of the shelves are clear. They’ve shifted strategy, I think feeling my M-4 kick back slightly into my shoulder. Wow! They’re able to shift strategy as a group. That’s something to throw into the bag of knowledge.

The lane ahead is littered with bodies. Live ones scramble across the pile only to fall to the ferocious firing of Gonzalez and McCafferty, adding to the growing number lying on the floor, drawing ever closer. “Robert,” I say grabbing his shoulder to get his attention. “You’ll follow Gonzalez.”

“Okay,” he responds quickly with the wide eyes of intense adrenaline that is coursing through his body.

“McCafferty, fall back to me and we’ll cover the rear!” I yell. “Gonzalez, go now!”

They both stand and walk backward firing into the night runners as they go. I continue to put bursts of fire into the rafters, picking out night runners there and see them fall as the steel impacts their flesh. The light from our flashlights cannot reach far back so we are only able to take out the ones that leap into our range. Multiple lights probe the ceiling and rafters above. Sparks fly from the steel beams as near misses ricochet into the darkness. Red tracers streak upward from the store front and our position.

As she reaches my position, Gonzalez turns and catches my eye. Giving a head nod, she proceeds past to lead our retreat out of here. The night runners still rush our position on the floor. There must be hundreds here, I think. I shift my fire to the ones on the ground ahead taking one out just twenty feet away. Blood sprays from its chest and neck as multiple rounds from my carbine strike it. Its head, almost severed by the force of the rounds, falls sideways as blood gushes and squirts from the severed arteries. Its body kicks out to the side spinning to the ground. I feel part of the spray splash against my cheek and forehead.

“Robert, Go!” I yell and notice only the decrease of fire that signals his departure.

“McCafferty, you have the top rafters and shelves as we move. I have the ground,” I shout across to where she has taken up position.

“You got it sir,” she yells back.

“Horace, we’re on our way. Did you get the wounded?” I ask pressing the radio transmit button.

“We have him, sir, but we have another one down,” she responds.

“Get them outside and be ready to go,” I say quickly.

I hear her answer on the radio but cannot make out her reply.

There’s no time to ask for it to be repeated. I drop two more to the floor, the last one falling almost at my feet and reload. I pull a mag out of my vest taking notice that it is the last one. Uh oh, that’s not good, I think sliding it in and releasing the bolt. More night runners pound the floor behind the two still in their death throes at my feet. I flip to semi and light flashes from the end of my barrel taking the nearest one in the head. Its head snaps backwards and its feet leave the ground, the body hitting the linoleum on its back with a thud.

“I’m on my last mag. We’ll have to make this quick. Let’s go!” I shout to McCafferty.

“Me too! I’m right with you,” she responds.

We stand and begin walking quickly backwards, McCafferty taking down night runners that have come above us in the rafters, the sound of their bodies slamming into the shelves and floor evidence of her deadly aim. I keep the ones in front at bay. Head shots are easy at this distance but I am quickly running out of ammo. Pop! Pop! Pop! I am rapidly moving my aim from head to head as we retreat but more replace them. We pass the next aisle behind us, with the central mass still only twenty feet away, neither gaining nor losing distance between us. The speed at which they are running at us causes them to drop literally at my feet and they will quickly be upon us when I run out of ammo. I glance around to mark our progress and see the lights from Gonzalez and Robert round the corner of the end aisle.

“We’re going to have to make a run for it,” I yell to McCafferty across the lane. “Now go!”

I see her turn and begin running down the lane and turn the corner. Focusing back to my front, I pick up the pace of my backward steps. Not quite running but close. Tripping and falling would not be in my best interest right now and not because of some labor and industries injury claim. It would be a bit worse than that. I wonder if I can sue the store for harboring dangerous creatures. Pop! Pop! My rounds meet and intersect two more heads splashing blood and brain matter on those behind as I round the corner and enter the aisle.

Glancing over my shoulder, keeping my direction and most of my attention on those about to round the corner, I see Gonzalez and Robert running for the front door silhouetted by the light streaming in from outside. McCafferty is following close behind them concentrating on the ceiling above. Almost home, I think. I refocus on where the night runners are just rounding the corner. Our gunfire seems to have had little effect on their numbers although I do notice they are now only concentrated in certain areas as opposed to seemingly spread across the entire interior. Still backing toward the entrance, I hear the click of a bolt running dry behind me. That click registers immediately and seems louder than all of the other sounds filling the store.

“I’m out!” McCafferty yells in my direction.

“Make a run for the door, I’ll cover,” I shout still focused on the horde closing in.

I feel the kick against my shoulder three more times sending three additional night runners skidding on the floor amidst sprays of blood and brain before the same, heart sickening click emits from my M-4. I have exhausted my ammo. Why can’t this be like the hero books or comics where the last round kills the last enemy inches from the hero? Well, this definitely isn’t the happy, ride off into the sunset ending I would have liked. The horde is still coming and closing the distance and I am now carrying a paper weight. I’m