A machine gun positioned on the roof of the fire station joined the fight. Flares launched in the sky, casting long, haunting shadows over the approaching army charging in from the woods. Jacob watched as a soldier to his left was hit; he was knocked back and looked at the hole in his armor that miraculously landed at the very center of his chest plate. The soldier put a finger in the hole, looked up at Jacob, and smiled just as a second round hit the man in the top of the head.
Jacob felt fear, then anger build in his gut. He forced his rifle up and aimed into the tree line, pulling the trigger continuously though he couldn’t see his targets. He could hear a soldier speaking into a radio frantically, “Requesting fire support; unit in danger of being overrun.”
Men screamed farther down the line behind them. Jacob turned as an explosion ripped through a bunker. Soon after, men dressed in civilian clothing and carrying all manner of weapons poured into the street, breeching the defensive line.
Jacob flinched at the shriek of an incoming round moments before it crashed into the far tree line and exploded, lighting the night sky. The radio operator continued yelling into the handset, “More, more, more, on target, fire for effect!”
Rounds shrieked in and began erupting all along the defensive line. Earth and smoke were tossed into the air. Murphy grabbed Jacob by the collar and pulled him back, then shoved him toward the rear seat of the patrol car. Jacob turned and looked down the road, back in the direction they’d traveled. The swarms were inside the containment zone, running and fighting the soldiers. Blood and blue smoke mixed with a flurry of arms.
“Back in the car! Back in the car!” Murphy shouted as he shoved Jacob into the back seat. Murphy opened the front door and stood beside it while firing his weapon across the hood as Stephens leapt in the driver’s side and fired up the engine. Murphy dropped into the passenger’s seat just as the car began moving. Stephens drove around the serpentine path of concrete barriers, crashing through the wooden sawhorses. Looking out of the rear window as the car raced toward the iron bridge, Jacob witnessed the soldiers left behind being overwhelmed by the swarm pressing against the fire station’s walls.
Tracers crisscrossed the sky while artillery rounds exploded into the street and field, churning up earth and bodies. The smoke from the rounds quickly developed a fog that mercifully blinded Jacob from the horror.
Chapter Fourteen
The streets were dark beyond the bridge. The scent of cordite and burning garbage hung heavy in the air. No people, no animals, no movement, no structure—nothing was left untouched. They passed a still smoking, tracked vehicle. Around it, expended brass and bits of uniform covered the street. Jacob watched as Stephens concentrated his focus on navigating around the smoldering hulk, using his night vision to maintain a course north and into Chicago.
Jacob leaned against the door, his weary eyes looking out into the street and watching the abandoned homes as they passed. Sounds of battle persisted all around them. On all sides, the glow of explosions bloomed and receded in the sky. The clacking of small arms and the booming thump of mortars and artillery rounds intermingled with the sound of low-flying aircraft roaring overhead… a manmade thunderstorm that overstimulated Jacob’s already fatigued brain.
“Where is everyone?” Jacob whispered.
Murphy had his window down with his rifle aimed out and at the ready. “I haven’t seen shit since we crossed the bridge.”
Stephens grunted. “We’re in the eye of the storm. Look around; everything here is dead. The Darkness is all around us. They’re out there. If we keep driving, we could run right up their ass… but that ain’t gonna happen.”
“What?” Murphy looked away from the open window.
Stephens flicked a finger at the dashboard. “Gas; something must’a punctured the tank back there. It’s bleeding out faster than it should be.”
Jacob leaned up over the rear seat to look through the window in the cage. “Can we fix it?”
Stephens shrugged. “I don’t know… but I’m not about to go all Mr. Good Wrench out here in the fucking open.”
“Okay, find us some place to pull over,” Murphy ordered.
Stephens guided the patrol car through wreckage and a twisted makeshift barrier of wooden police obstacles and plastic barrels. Dark-blue riot gear and helmets littered the street. Just ahead was a long intersection and on the northeast corner was a tall four-story brick building—two stories higher than the neighboring structures. The sidewalk in front of the building was clear. Murphy pointed it out and Stephens gingerly brought the car up to the curb, stopping just shy of the entrance.
With the car stopped and tight to the curb, he cut the engine. They sat silently, Stephens and Murphy searching the surrounding area with their night vision and the scopes on their rifles. Jacob looked through the side window at the front of the brick building. Plywood was nailed over the front lobby windows. The entry door was doubled padlocked and held shut by a large chain. A black panel was bolted to the wall with a long list of names next to white buzzer buttons.
“Think there are people in there?” Jacob whispered uneasily.
Stephens turned his head to look. “Doubt it… it’s chained from the outside. Place was probably evac’d early—especially being on the main route.”
Murphy lifted his rifle. “Let’s get this done; this place is creeping me out,” he whispered before opening the door and stepping into the street.
Jacob moved quickly and followed him out. Murphy
