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helped the doc pull his coat off.

“I don’t think that’s the best idea. That’s how those things got here. It pulled up to the shore, the bridge lowered, and they came pouring out.”

“What other choice do we have? If we can get on board and get it away from the shore, we’ll deal with whatever we find on there.”

“But—”

A bellow, long and high, encompassed the parking lot. It was more animalistic than any of the sounds made by the daywalkers. Goosebumps prickled on Lance’s arms. His fear of the daywalkers paled in comparison to the horror they saw at the church.

They were coming.

Cass ran up from behind Eifort, blood splattered across her heaving chest.

“What the hell are you doing? We need to move!”

“The doc was shot. Damn, you’re bossy.” Lance looked toward the sun, saw it had fallen below the tops of the trees, the sky already darkening. He wondered how much light those things could stand. Would they come out before the day fully gave way to the night?

“We don’t have time for bullshit banter. Let’s go, dumbass!”

“Hey, calling me dumbass is banter! Hypocrite!” Lance turned back to her, but she was already stalking across the parking lot. He found himself blathering as he tried to cope with his mounting fear.

Eifort fell in line behind Cass. Lance gave the doc a slight push, keeping him in front so he could take up the rear.

The other soldiers continued firing in bursts, cutting down the infected by the tents. They made significant progress, dwindling the man-eaters’ numbers as dusk set in. The battle ebbed rapidly once a mere dozen of them remained.

Military personal and civilians with melee weapons closed in on the last of the daywalkers, killing them off as Cass crossed into the final parking lot. Most of the tents there were shredded and bloody. Bodies littered the pavement, most with neck wounds. The injured, damned by their bites, staggered around, pleading for help.

Those who weren’t attacked looked at the bitten and gashed like the walking dead they would soon become. Lance wondered who would be the first to kill one of the wounded. Would it be out of mercy for the infected, or as self-preservation for those who weren’t?

Another shriek, alien and violent, shattered the perception that the threat had passed.

Louder and closer.

“Get the spot lights up! Start every generator we’ve got!” Major Reynolds separated away from a group of soldiers, shouting toward the stadium. “Everyone get to the fence!”

A drainage gate at the right side of the parking lot exploded out of its place. It flipped through the air and clattered on the sidewalk.

A muscled arm came through the opening, followed by the gray, eyeless head of a Vladdie. Its deformed skull and rounded, thick shoulders made it look more like a silverback gorilla than a human. It climbed out of the sewer system and took several steps forward on all fours.

Its back arched as it howled at the sky, long teeth visible in the fading light. More came up behind it, nude and hairless, their bodies grotesquely distorted and powerful.

“My god, they’re using the sewers to get around.” Lance stared at the creatures piling out of the drainage hole like ants coming from an anthill. “Are they intelligent enough to use a strategy?”

No one answered him.

Thousands of people by the stadium fell silent, watching as modern-day demons climbed out of hell.

Another grate flew up in the middle parking lot. More of them climbed out, inside of the fences.

“Run!” Cass screamed and sprinted for the boat.

Lance shoved the doctor in the back, getting him moving. His hunger and fatigue left his mind as he ran faster than he ever had. The pain in his foot was forgotten.

Eifort angled toward the major, shouting for the officer’s attention.

No one could have heard her over the roars and shrieks that exploded from the Vladdies.

Lance grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back to him, screaming in her ear. “This is fucked! Get on the boat with us!”

She cast one last glance at the monstrosities that came for them and nodded.

They weren’t the only ones who noticed the hopelessness of the situation. Major Reynolds fled to the stadium, sprinting toward a side door.

Those who stood in line, waiting for a helicopter ride, made a mad dash to gates, shoving against each other as they tried to squeeze into Heinz Field.

The turret on one of the tanks rotated, aiming at the tented parking lots. Fire burst from the barrel as it shot, the body rocking back on its tracks. The ground trembled from the blast.

A mass of the Vladdies exploded as the shell hit the ground at their feet. Limbs somersaulted into the night.

More of them filled the place within seconds. The oncoming hoard streamed from the grates. A side street leading into an alley darkened as a flood of the creatures filled it, marching toward the North Shore.

Half of the soldiers took aim and fired, holding their ground like the warriors they were. The others tried to follow the major, rushing to the stadium. Civilians panicked, running blindly in any direction, trampling each other as they tried to escape their inevitable deaths.

Spotlights flickered on from atop trucks stationed around the perimeter of the safe zone. They angled at the fences, but quickly swiveled around, their beams finding groups of the Vladdies. The muscle-bound horrors leaped out of the light, and charged forward.

The bellows of the mutated fell away, replaced by the pounding of their hands and feet as they stormed across the parking lot.

Lance recognized the sound as the death of Pittsburgh.

24

The engine of the boat rumbled to life as Cass neared the water.

Printed on the side of the upper deck was the name Duchess in black.

“What the hell?” Lance watched as the boat backed away from the shore. “Better pick up the pace, Doc!”

The upper part of the boat where the tiny cabin sat appeared empty.

Cass reached the water and stepped onto the plank as it pulled away from the rocks. Eifort was on her heels. They moved up the ramp quickly, turning back to face the land.

Brown splashed into the water, his tall frame allowing him to take big strides. He stretched out with his good arm and grabbed hold of the railing, hauling himself from the river. Lance waded waist-high before he reached the retreating platform. He pulled himself belly-first onto the wood as the doc walked up the slight incline.

By the time Lance got to the bow of the ship, Cass had climbed an exterior ladder. Her axe was back in the holster, the blood of daywalkers coursing down its handle.

“What is she doing?” the doc asked. He leaned against the outer wall of the first floor and slid down it, settling in a seated position. His hand pressed against the wound on his shoulder.

Lance watched as Cass started on a second ladder. “She’s probably going to kick the ass of whoever is piloting this ship. I need to go help her. Are you going to be OK here?”

“I’ll live.”

Eifort stood beside him, watching the slaughter by the stadium. “We’ll be fine.”

“Be careful. We don’t know if more of those fuckers are onboard.” Lance sheathed his knife and started up the ladder. He made it to the roof of the first floor, just reaching for the next ladder when he heard Cass shouting.

“Don’t move!”

Lance hurried up the rungs.

Cass stood at the open door of the cabin, her pistol aimed at a long-haired man wearing a camouflaged jacket. Strands of gray at his temples suggested he was middle-aged.

“Who are you?” Cass stepped inside, putting the barrel within inches of the man’s forehead.

“Nobody.”

Lance stepped onto the upper deck. “Oh god, are you with those crazy militant assholes?” He followed Cass inside and grabbed the lever that he guessed controlled the speed of the boat. He pulled it all the way down, bringing the Duchess to a stop.

“We aren’t crazy.” The man glared at Cass, defiant, jaw set.

Cass’s face, already strained, turned a deep rouge. “Did you bring those things to the shore on purpose?”

Lance almost fell over. It hadn’t occurred to him that the crazy men would have done something like this intentionally. He knew they were nuts, but this went above and beyond. Their insanity knew no bounds.

Bringing a boatload of daywalkers to the camp just as the sunset was a masterstroke of brilliance and madness. These were the kind of men that you didn’t want to cross paths with.

The man shifted a bit, but didn’t respond.

The knife was out of its sheath and in Lance’s hand before he had time to think about it. “Why?”

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