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The ceiling, arched and pearly white, added an elegance that stood in stark contrast to the remnants of carnage on the floor.
The stench of death and rot filled the vast chapel.
Cass found a door in the back of the expansive room and went through, axe at the ready. Lance followed, focusing on his breathing, hoping it wasn’t as loud as it seemed. They followed a dark trail of gore and congealed blood.
Offices branched off a long hallway. Desks, computers, and filing cabinets decorated the rooms. Crosses covered many surfaces. Some sat on the floor, knocked from their perches on walls and desks.
Light spilled in from shattered windows and open doors. The church was well lit, despite the lack of electricity.
A stairwell waited further inside. Cass stood at the top of the stairs, staring down into the darkness beyond. The dearth of windows ahead cast the lower floor in deep shadow.
The smell of spoiled meat intensified as Lance stepped beside her.
“Why do I get the feeling that we shouldn’t go down there?”
Cass said, “No shit.”
Lance’s stomach rumbled, in spite of the horrific smell wafting from up from the stairs. He hadn’t eaten since the day before.
“I’m damn hungry, but not enough for this.”
“You aren’t going to get an argument from me. Let’s get—”
The sound of something scraping the floor came to them then.
Lance’s breath caught in his throat. His abs clenched.
A thump, closer and louder.
Cass’ fingers blanched as she squeezed the handle of the axe.
Rapid exhalations from below.
Two thuds, closer.
Lance stepped back, wanting to flee, but unable to peel his gaze from the darkness ahead.
A face, distorted and gray, pierced the black at the bottom of the stairs. Empty eye sockets oozed. Thinned hair draped over its scalp, the bottoms of the strands touching pointed, elongated ears.
Grotesque veins snaked through the forehead and cheeks. Thickened bone structure made the jaw and eyebrows protrude.
The Vladdie’s mouth opened, exposing canines that extended unnaturally below the other teeth.
It wailed at them, the sound threatening to pop their eardrums. Spittle flew from its mouth, splattering on the steps underneath it.
Cass stumbled backward, bumping into Lance, nearly knocking him over.
Two forearms, muscles swollen and striated, appeared from the shadow. Its fists slammed against the stairs, shaking the floor in a show of rage and frustration.
A series of shrieks answered from the basement below, filling the church with the wails of the infected.
Lance spun on his damaged foot, grabbing Cass’ shoulder as he turned, and ran. His feet barely touched the carpeted floor as he sprinted down the hallway.
Cass shouted for him to move faster.
They burst into the chapel, not slowing as they flew past the pews, heading for the large front doors.
More songs from the hungry below reverberated through the floor, filling Lance with a panic he hadn’t known since he’d left the hospital.
Cass reached the doors first, grabbing an iron ring in the middle and heaving it open. The wood swung around, bouncing off the inside wall of the foyer, breaking through drywall.
Lance lunged through the doorway, not willing to risk looking back until he felt the rays of sun on his shoulders. He stumbled down the stairs, inhuman shrieks chasing him from the church.
He spun around, eyes glued to the open doorway as Cass huffed beside him.
“My god. Is that what they look like now?” He felt something touch his leg and looked down, seeing his hand shake with such force that the machete tapped against his quadriceps.
Images of the progression of those poor people’s mutation flashed through his mind like a flipbook. In little more than a week, the entire structure of their bodies had transformed.
“That’s the first one of the nightwalkers I’ve seen lately,” Cass said, her voice hushed as if they might hear her. “It looked more like a gorilla from hell than a human. What chance does mankind have against that?”
“I—”
A scream, only partly human, rang out from behind them.
Lance noticed their surroundings for the first time since escaping the church. He hadn’t paid attention to much in his panic.
Over a hundred of the Vladdies filled the parking lot by the office building. More stumbled down the street on either side of Lance and Cass.
Some were fresher, more confused. Others moved with smooth strides, their bodies already twisted and vascular.
“Oh shit.” Lance looked back at the church. “Now what?”
“Now we’re in deep shit,” Cass said, lowering her axe to her side. “I guess the gunfire and the helicopter drew them in.”
Fear sapped Lance’s strength, rational thought becoming a challenge.
“Should we go back in—?”
The office building across the street exploded.
Bright light stabbed at Lance’s eyes.
Ears thrummed, hissing static blotting everything out.
His lungs refused to cooperate, heaving helplessly against ribs.
Heat baked against him in waves, pulsating and searing.
He tried to speak, but couldn’t hear himself.
The redolence of burning meat wafted in the air.
He blinked.
His vision cleared slightly. He blinked again, longer and slower. The sky above him came into focus, a black spire of smoke cutting through the blue.
He wriggled his fingers and toes, shocked at the numbness in his limbs, grateful as the feeling abated. His side, still a little sore, tightened as he sat up, grunting, fighting for breath.
Smoking rubble surrounded a crater where the office building had been. Debris filled the parking lot and street. Trees by the highway burned along with nearby homes.
Severed limbs twitched in bushes and rain gutters. Devastated bodies dragged themselves across pavement, blood oozing from orifices. Lance stared at the mayhem, dumbstruck.
Warmth eked down his forehead. His hand came away bloody. A headache settled in as he sat on the sidewalk, church steps behind him.
Several of the Vladdies down the street, further away from the explosion, worked back to their feet, heads bobbing around in confused anger.
“Cass?” Lance grimaced at the stiffness of his neck as he looked around for Cass. “You OK?”
He found her sprawled on the lawn of the church, partially hidden beside the broad stairs leading to the front door. Blood stained her butchered hair, matting it to her forehead.
“Cass?” Lance took a tentative step toward her, his knees wobbly, unsure. He cast a glance down the street again, watching as another dozen of the infected struggled to get up. They would be swarming again soon, converging on Lance and Cass like locusts.
“Cass, get up!” His ears rang, his own voice’s delivery muted and soft.
Cass didn’t move. Her chest rose and fell in shallow shifts. Her axe lay at her feet, one side of the blade digging into the grass.
Lance wiped blood from his eyes with his forearm as he kneeled beside her. The seeping wound on her head was an inch long, but didn’t appear deep enough to be a major concern. Lance knew from watching the UFC that head wounds bled like crazy, even if they were superficial.
A piece of cinderblock, jagged and rectangular, lay by her shoulder, drops of red covering it.
Grabbing her shoulder, Lance shook her lightly, trying to wake her up. He tapped her cheek, calling her name.
She didn’t respond.
The dazed infected down the street worked their way toward the burning building, their attention temporarily distracted by the flaming debris.
Cass’ eyes fluttered, but didn’t open.
“Goddamn it.” Lance found his machete by the stairs of the church and tied the loop that hung from its handle to his belt.
After sitting Cass’ axe against the stairs’ railing, he bent down and grabbed her wrists, pulling her into a seated position. Her head lolled against her right shoulder, muscles lax.
Lance’s side strained as he lifted her waist off the ground, bending her torso over his shoulder. His legs shook as he took on her weight, his sliced foot protesting the added stress.
He straightened his back, glad that she was in good shape. If she carried just a few more pounds, he wasn’t sure he would have been strong enough to lift her. Even now, with her small frame draped over his shoulder, he didn’t know how long his stamina would last.
With his right arm wrapped around her legs,
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