Dead Seasons: Part Four

[Morris Hospital/Sept. 24th/2234hrs]

Tim stood alone in the Ambulance Dock outside the automatic doors that led into the E. R. check-in area. He paced back and forth along the pockmarked concrete slabs that made up the sidewalk under the area’s canopy. In the time since they’d arrived at the hospital in Nick’s truck it’d started raining again; not the torrential downpour that they drove through earlier, but, instead, a steady, calm trickling of water from the night sky. It was funny to him that calm was the word that came to mind given that he was anything but calm right now. In fact, he was the very fucking antithesis of calm.

What the hell is going on, he thought to himself for possibly the forty-ninth time since the glass doors had slid shut behind him, effectively closing him off from his friends. Sarah had come followed him out after he’d grabbed Ray, but once look at him when he spun on her outside and she’d held up her hands and slowly nodded her head before turning and going back inside.

“I’ll, uh, go get you a glass of water or something,” she had said as she turned her back on him.

“Whatever,” he’d shot back. He hadn’t meant to be so terse with her--he had had a crush on her just as long as Ray had, but had never acted on it because he loved Amy--but he couldn’t control his words. His rationale had checked out about two hours ago when the love of his life had tried to chew a hole in his face.

“This can’t be happening,” he said out loud to the rain. “Amy was dead. She is dead!”

But that didn’t stop the images of her snapping teeth and lashing arms from flooding his brain again. In those brief moments in the Focus, Tim had gotten a good look at Amy. He’d looked into her eyes and hadn’t like what he had seen. Eyes that had once been full of life and love for the world had suddenly gone cold. The life replaced with…what, exactly? There had been something there but he had never seen anything like it in his life. But he would see it every time he closed his own eyes for the rest of his life.

“Hey,” Sarah’s voice called from behind him, nearly causing him to jump out of his own skin. He turned and was going to ask her to leave, but stopped as he saw her, standing there with a Styrofoam cup in one hand and once of those small plastic cups that came with Nyquil in the other. “The nurse thought you might need these.”

She held up the plastic cup and he could see three small white pills in the bottom. He guessed the other hand held the water she’d gone back in for.

“What is it,” he asked, his voice still hoarse but softer than the last time he’d spoken to her.

“Tylenol, I think,” she replied. She must have picked up on his gentler tone because she took several steps toward him, her hands extending to offer both cups. “She didn’t really say. But, when I asked for the water, she said you could probably use them, so I’m guessing it’s something you should probably take, Tim.”

Tim nodded once and then crossed the remaining paces between them, taking the Styrofoam cup and holding his other hand out, palm up, to accept the pills. She understood the action and tipped the plastic cup over his hand, spilling the white tablets into it. Without a word, he tossed the pills into his mouth and downed the water. The liquid was blessedly cold and he was suddenly aware that he had been ridiculously thirsty. He crushed the cup and tossed it haphazardly toward one of those pebble-covered garbage cans with the sand-filled ashtray on top you see anywhere lots of people gather; the cup’s lack of weight caused its trajectory to fall just short of the can. He stared at it for a moment, debating whether or not to pick it up, and decided, fuck it.

“Thank you,” he said, turning back to Sarah.

“How’re you holding up,” she asked, nodding acknowledgement to his gratitude.

He stood silent for a second, a thousand thoughts flying through his head in the time it took his heart to beat twice, the final thought being the image of Amy’s eyes. They’d looked as if someone had injected milk into them. He could still see her pupils and that line of color around them, but the color was gone. No, not gone, exactly…faded. As if her eyes were looking out through the cloud of whatever had taken over her mind.

His silence must have gone on longer than he thought, because Sarah reached out and touched his elbow.

“Tim,” she said, her voice picking up at the end, posing his name as a question.

He shook his head and looked down at her. “I’m fine.”

She didn’t say anything, just looked up at him.

“Really,” he said, reading the unspoken question there. “I mean, you know, as fine as anyone whose girlfriend got shot in the fucking neck and then tried to kill him can be.”

“Tim, we don’t know what happened for sure,” she said, trying to console him. “That cop said they were sending some people back to--”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Sarah?” He didn’t mean to snap at her, he just couldn’t stand here and listen to her bullshit him for the sake of trying to be nice. “I may not be a specialist or whatever, but I’ve played enough videogames and seen enough movies and Discovery Channel shows to know what a fucking bullet wound might look like! And, y’know what? That hole in Amy’s neck spewing blood all over my car was pretty fucking close!”

She took a few startled steps back from him and he sighed. His shoulders sagged with the weight of his reality in the last few hours. How could a trip to Great America with his closest friends turn into something written by George fucking Romero?

And, as if the world had been waiting for that que…

There was a muffled scream and then the sound of breaking glass. Tim followed Sarah’s gaze upward and had just enough time to lock onto the spray of glass and tangle of bodies before he was forced to follow it back down to the ground.

And right on top of Sarah.

The sound was like nothing he’d ever heard before. Sure movies have come a long way in describing something like this, but apparently event the most knowledgeable foley artist was missing something. The closest he could come up with in his own mind would have been someone putting several thawed turkeys in a wet nylon sack and slamming it down onto the concrete. But even that didn’t seem right.

There was a moment of stillness. He wasn’t sure how long it lasted, but he was keenly aware of the sound of every piece of glass that hit the pavement; the smack of every drop of blood that hit his face and arms. The world seemed to pause, like some seen in a bad action movie. Then, just when he was beginning to think he might be dreaming this, Cassie’s scream pierced his subconscious and he was reminded, once again, that his world was suddenly starting to suck.

[Morris Hospital/Sept. 24th/2235hrs]

“Oh, what the hell,” Nick yelled as he stepped through the sliding glass doors and caught sight of what it was Cassie was screaming at.

They’d all decided to come outside and see how Tim was doing; and to have a smoke, in his case. What Nick expected to find was a sulking Tim trying his best to ignore Sarah’s attempts to console him. What he saw was something out of a B-List horror flick. A tangle of bodies lying in a bed of glass, more blood than what he imagined should have been there, given the fall, and the kinds of details you always saw in movies but somehow always wrote off as Hollywood exaggeration--bits of bone and meaty chunks of gore.

“Cassie,” Nolan said, placing his arm on her shoulder. “Please stop screaming, babe. We need to--”

“Sarah?!” Ray saw her first. “Oh, my god, no! Sarah!”

Nick’s eyes followed his friend as the taller man pushed through everyone else and ran toward the dog pile of death. It was hard to tell one body from the other at this distance, but, after the initial shock--and the overcoming of his urge to vomit all over Nolan’s back--Nick was able to pick her out among carnage. Though, he suddenly wished he hadn’t.

“Aw, shit,” he was able to get out that much before his gag reflex gave up the fight under this new onslaught of visual assault. However, he was able to twist his head to the side before he heaved and avoided showering Nolan with what little contents his stomach held.

His vomiting lasted long enough that when he was finally under control, he turned to see Ray kneeling next to Sarah’s end of the carnage, trying to push the other bodies off her with one hand while lifting her head in the other. As his hand pulled up on her head, though, it canted at an angle that even Nick knew was impossible, and her neck--swollen to a disturbingly large size--made a sound like bubble wrap being popped under water. It was enough to tell Nick what everyone else must be thinking…

Sarah was dead.

“Oh, Jesus!” Ray was shaking his head and still trying to clear the bodies--there were at least two others, Nick saw now--away from her.

“Oh, man,” Nolan said, under his breath. Then something seemed to click in his head and he spun on his heels and ran back toward the E. R. yelling for help along the way.

“Is…is she dead,” Cassie asked, her hands coming up to cover her mouth.

Nick stepped up beside her, wanting her to know she wasn’t alone in case she felt the need to scream again. “Yes,” he said softly, “she’s dead.”

“What’s happening,” Tim said.

Nick looked up at him, realizing he was standing there for the first time since they’d come out. The man hadn’t moved where he stood in the last few minutes. He must have seen what happened, Nick thought. He must have watched Sarah die.

Tim’s eyes didn’t leave the pile of bodies. Not a single muscle moved, not even to wipe the blood from his face. To Nick he seemed frozen in the moment those people landed on Sarah, but it was quite possible his friend’s mind was still stuck his Focus back on I80, staring down his fiancé as she tried to murder him; even with as her blood poured from the hole in her neck.

“What the fuck is happening,” Tim screamed, nearly at the top of his lungs.

No one answered him, though.

Nick was positive no one could.

[Morris Hospital/Sep. 24th/2236hrs]

Nolan nearly crashed into the Registration Desk, skidding to a halt just inches from the double-paned window with the little white speaker situated in the center. He’d never figured out why the hospital administration had opted for the upgrade to the emergency room check-in area a few years ago; all the upgrades were apparently made in the area of security and Morris wasn’t exactly a high-risk area. He shook the thought away and focused on the immediate needs of the situation and started looking for a nurse and found a completely empty room behind the unnecessary security glass. There wasn’t a single person to be seen.

“What,” he asked aloud. “Hello? Where the hell is everyone?”

We were literally only gone, like, two minutes, he thought angrily, slapping his hands hastily on the glass.

“Hey,” he shouted, “I’ve got a fucking emergency here, people! Put down the sandwich or whatever the hell you’re shoving in your chubby fucking faces!”

He knew he was being a little excessive, but even the rational part of his brain couldn’t argue with the urgency of the moment and the sheer ridiculousness of the sudden lack of a single damn nurse.

“Nolan, calm down, man,” Shaun’s voice pulled his attention from his own reflection in the foremost pane of glass. The younger man was walking toward him from the waiting room area. “What’s going on?”

Nolan spun away from the window, starting in Shaun’s direction but stopping just shy of ten paces from the waiting room proper at the door that lead to the room beyond the glass. His fists came up and started pounding on the heavy wooden door. After a few seconds he grabbed the polished metal handle and shook it in frustration. Locked.

“Fuck!” He kicked the door.

“Dude, what the hell is going on,” Shaun said, his voice rising in agitation.

Nolan suddenly had a thought and spun on his heels and gripped Shaun by either arm. “The cop!”

“Uh, what?”

Nolan shook him once in rising anger. “Fuck, Shaun! The cop you were with like three minutes ago! Where is he?!”

“Dude, you need to calm down.”

“Where is the cop,” Nolan all but screamed.

“Jesus, man,” Shaun exclaimed, stepping back and jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward a hallway junction that led deeper into the hospital. “An orderly came running through here, saw the cop, and told him something about an attack up stairs and they both went flying down the hall. Now stop yelling at me, please.”

“What kind of attack,” Nolan asked, looking over Shaun’s shoulder toward the hallway. He was getting a very uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, like he’d swallowed a chunk of ice.

“The orderly didn’t say,” Shaun answered. “Seriously, dude, what has you so worked up?”

Nolan didn’t answer him. He couldn’t have if he’d wanted to. He was frozen in place, too scared to move, his whole body locked up like a bird caught in the hypnotic stare of the snake preparing to eat it. Only, he wasn’t a bird, and the thing staring at him from the other side of the waiting room, just inside the hallway junction, sure as hell wasn’t a snake. Nolan wasn’t even sure it was human anymore. It looked human, sure. But he had never seen eyes like that on any human he could think of.

Well, a part of him said, except for those guys on the highway.

But those guys, messed up as they had been, hadn’t looked anywhere near as…off…as this guy. For starters, he was virtually bathed in blood, from head to toe. It poured from a number of wounds on his body--wounds so obviously fatal that Nolan almost laughed because his brain couldn’t think of anything else to do--like water from a crack in a dam, dripping from his fingers and clothes into slowly growing pools on the white tile under his feet. What little of his skin Nolan could see wasn’t any skin tone he recognized and was, instead, a shade somewhere between the yellowy green of mucus and the dull gray of cement. His head was tilted slightly to the side as a result of the fist-sized hole that had been ripped from it, the edges of the wound vibrating slightly as they rubbed together. His mouth hung open and his face was frozen in what Nolan could swear was an expression of stunned surprise bordering on that near-fitful glee that a child might suffer upon seeing that pony she’d been begging for walking around in her back yard. His eyes--that soapy water color--seemed transfixed by Shaun and Nolan.

“Uh,” Shaun said, tilting his head a little, “dude?”

Then it happened.

Seemingly spurred into motion by Shaun’s voice, the thing in the hallway lunged forward with a speed completely unexpected of his condition. He made no sounds other than the wet phwip-phwip of his blood-soaked clothing as he darted toward them. His speed was such that it nearly caught Nolan completely off guard and he barely had time to react.

“Look out,” he yelled as he shoved Shaun backward.

Shaun, still unaware of the creature behind him, was taken by surprise and tripped on the waiting room’s carpet. As he fell backward, he flailed his arms out in desperation and grabbed hold of Nolan’s shirt collar. The forward momentum and instinct-driven nature of Nolan’s push were enough to send the two of them to the ground when Shaun’s weight pulled his shirt taut. A lucky thing, though, as the fall pulled him mostly free of their attacker’s trajectory. He let out a grunt and Shaun swore as the two of them hit the ground.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Shaun shoved Nolan just in time to see the creature, obviously unable to fully control its motor functions and unable to regulate its own speed, stumble through the space the two men had just been and trip over the small office-type garbage can sitting in the nook opposite the check-in station. It still made no noise, even as it slammed bodily into the wall, leaving a massive splatter of blood. Shaun’s eyes snapped as far open as they could possibly go and he pointed straight at the attacker. “Dude! What the fuck?!”

Once again, Shaun’s voice drew the monster’s attention and it flailed and jerked its way to a standing position again where it stopped and stared at them for a second again; that same giddy shock on its sickly pale face. It didn’t way for Shaun to speak this time, however, and jolted forward with that same impossible speed.

“Oh, shit,” Shaun squealed and began to scurry backward across the floor. “Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh--”

His back bumped into one of the chairs and stopped him dead in his tracks. The creature was on him in a heartbeat, throwing itself forward in something like a drunken tackle, arms out, mouth open. Shaun screamed with the full force of his lungs and squeezed both eyes shut as he snapped out a kick with all his might. His Chuck T’s white sole slammed into the monster’s jaw so hard that--with the added force of the creature’s opposing motion--it spun its head nearly all the way around; the hole in its neck tearing even further and exposing the glossy white of vertebrae. The creature flopped sideways onto the carpet and started thrashing wildly.

Shaun opened his eyes and looked down at the thing that had just tried to rip him apart. He screamed again and lurched to his feet and made a mad scramble over the set of chairs that had impeded his escape moments earlier; where Nolan now stood. Nolan stepped closer to his friend, finding a need to be within arm’s reach, should that thing make its way to its feet again. Shaun jabbed his finger down at the monster several times and repeated his previous question.

“What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?!”

Nolan looked around the waiting room, eyeing the hallway junction more than once. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I’m not really looking forward to telling Ray he was right.”

Dead Seasons: Part II

[Interstate 80/Just Outside Morris, IL/Sept. 24th/????hrs]

“…hol…what the fu…s that?!”

“I…know, man…to the car…sure…they’re okay!”

Something was wet. That, in this moment, was all that Nolan could bring his mind to focus on. Something was wet.

“Jesus fucking Christ…biting that…what the hell…”

Something was wet. And warm. Wet and warm. And on his face. What did he spill on himself? And why were people yelling so loud? His head really fucking hurt and people won’t stop yelling. What was that smell? Did he throw up on himself? That would actually explain the wet and warm.

“Just c’mon, Brian! They…the pavement pretty…ing hard, dude!”

Was that Ray? Why the fuck was he yelling? It was obvious Nolan had a hangover and had gotten sick. Passed out in the bathroom, maybe? He was starting to feel his limbs and he was definitely not in his bed. Was someone sitting on him? What the fuck? Why couldn’t he open his eyes? He wanted to open his eyes, to move at least, and nothing was happening.

And, for the love of God, what the fuck was on his face!

Something like footsteps were suddenly added to the list of things he was slowly gaining awareness of. That and a tremendous amount of pain was beginning to crawl its way up his legs. Why couldn’t he open his damn eyes!?

“Oh, my god!” Yeah, that was Ray alright, and he was all at once way too loud. “Nick, get the fuck over here! Brian, call nine-one-one!”

“What the fuck for?!” There was a pause; Brian must be doing his usual over-dramatic act. Why won’t my fucking eyes open?! “Damn near everyone you’d want is already here! And not doin’ a whole helluva lot!”

Another pause. Just long enough for Nolan to realize that he was most definitely not in the bathroom. Where was he?

“Then stop standing there gawking and get over here and help us!” Ah, that would be Nick. Nick, Ray, Brian…what was missing? Why wouldn’t his eyes open? Where was he? Nick, Ray, Brian…Shaun…Matt…Sarah and Cassie…Tim…Tim and…Tim and Amy.

Tim and Amy. Tim and…Amy. Amy. Amy. Why was Amy so important? He didn’t even like Amy. She gave him the creeps.

Fuck, I hurt! Why won’t my eyes open?! What the fuck happened to Amy?

“Dude, there’s fucking blood everywhere in here!”

Blood. Amy. Blood everywhere. Amy’s blood. Amy’s blood is everywhere.

Nolan felt a hand grab his arm and a wave of intense heat rolled out from the point of contact and shot down his arm and up through his shoulder and across his chest. Suddenly the whole world crashed in all at once and the events leading up to his slowly dawning consciousness flooded into his memory. The drive back from Great America, the argument with Tim, the strange popping sound. Amy’s eyes going wide as blood began to fountain out of her neck. Tim reaching for her and the whole world tipping with the action.

Suddenly Nolan’s eyelids obeyed his command and shot open and he immediately wanted to squeeze them shut again. Not just because the light--even that filtered through the rain clouds which still hung overhead, though had since stopped spewing--sent his head reeling, but because what he saw before him was something he had never in his entire life thought he’d ever see. The whole world was upside down.

“Nick, see if you can get Matt to wake up,” came Ray’s voice as Nolan’s brain worked to make sense of his surroundings. He was still in Tim’s car, that much was certain, but it was like the little Ford Focus had been sent through some kind of nightmare filter. There was glass--and blood--everywhere. From where he lay, Nolan could see past the crushed front seats into the driver’s side where Tim hung from his seatbelt like meat on a hook. The airbag in the steering wheel hung empty from its previously hidden cradle in a disturbing imitation of the driver whom it had saved from certain death and silently explained why Nolan couldn’t see any obvious signs of injury on the driver himself. He was covered in blood but, even in his current mental state, Nolan was sure it wasn’t his blood and the thought sent his eyes unwillingly over to the passenger side…

“A-amy’s…d-dead…” It felt like swallowing gravel, but something in his gut forced the words out; he assumed it was that or empty his stomach.

If it weren’t for the now-constant pain rolling in rhythmic waves through his body--nothing was broken, though…he’d broken several bones and he knew that particular pain quite well--Nolan would have sworn he was having a nightmare. But, now that they were open, he could not force his eyes to shut out what he saw in the front seat of Tim’s upside-down car. He simply stared in shock at Amy.

And Amy stared back.

She shouldn’t have been. He could see that her legs and shoulders--still strapped into the seatbelt, like Tim--were facing the way they should be. However, there she was, staring glassy-eyed at Nolan.

Then Ray’s voice was in his ear. “What was that, buddy?”

“Amy’s dead.” He couldn’t break away from her empty gaze, but he was aware that Ray was working to try and free him from something. “She was shot, before…”

Ray grunted and something heavy that he wasn’t really aware was even on him was lifted away and some of the pain eased a bit and he realized he could breathe fully again. Ray was now talking to someone on the other side of the car. “I think she’s okay. She’s got blood on her, like everyone else, but I don’t think it’s hers.”

With that, Nolan was ripped free of Amy’s dead eyes. Cassie! He must be talking about Cassie! With more effort than should have been required, Nolan turned his head and took in the rest of the car. Nick was on the other side--having managed to pull Matt out and lean him against the doorframe--was trying to gently pull Cassie’s unconscious form off of him. He had her halfway out of the car when she stirred a little and a mournful sound escaped her lips. The sound itself was enough to trigger Nolan’s adrenal glands but the sight of her blood-splattered and torn clothing instantly overrode the pain and he reclaimed control over his own body.

“Get off me.”

“Nolan, dude, I’m not a doctor, but you should probab--”

“Get. The. Fuck. Off. Me.”

That was more than enough. Without another word, Ray backed his way out of the car and Nolan rolled over onto his back then wormed his way out onto the street. From here, he could see that the car had hit the jersey barriers that divided the east and west-bound lanes, rolled over onto its top and had slid--at least 40 feet by the looks of the paint and glass left in their wake--to a stop on the other side of the highway. Nick’s truck was parked sideways across the two lanes, blocking his view of what was further back, but given that everything was being washed by a constantly shifting glow of red and blue, Nolan guessed that they had slid past an ambulance or police car or something of the like. He looked back toward the car and--for reasons he couldn’t put his finger on--worked frantically to locate the rest of his friends. Sarah was on this side of the vehicle with Ray and Shaun; who were working diligently to get Tim free of his nylon meat hook. He could see through to the other side where Nick was crouched over Cassie, Matt still leaning against the other side, though now holding his head in both hands. But no sign of Brian.

“Where’s Brian?”

Sarah squatted down beside him, “He went to see if there was anyone over by the other accident who could come over and help.” Then, as if she thought it was information he should have, she added, "Shaun stayed with Nick's truck in case it needed to be moved."

When he was certain he wasn’t going to fall right back down, Nolan attempted to get to his feet. The pavement was wet and cool against his palms and it felt good. Sarah’s hand came down onto his shoulder and gently eased him back down. Uncontrolled anger flared up in his gut and he stared up at her. “Sarah, I like you. You’re a good friend and I know you’re just concerned for me right now.”

“Yeah, well--”

Nolan didn’t even give her a chance to argue. “But if you try to keep me from standing again, you’re going to be down here beside me. Understand?”

Sarah’s brown eyes went wide for a second and then, after what Nolan figured was a moment of contemplation, she nodded and the hand on his shoulder fell to offer assistance instead of obstruction. He nodded silently and gripped her wrist and allowed her to aide him to his feet. It was quite possibly the most agonizing thing he’d ever done aside from that summer he snapped his leg playing soccer; every muscle in his body screamed in protest as he slowly rose to a complete stand. Then, in one last ditch effort to get him to sit back down, his head made the world spin wildly.

“Whoa,” Sarah said as his knees made as if they were going to give out completely and she was suddenly holding more of his weight that she was ready for. “You really should sit back down, Nolan.”

The vertigo passed and he was able to tell the difference between up and down once more. He regained control of his legs and once again took the natural brunt of his own weight and stepped away from her. “No,” he said, “I’m fine. Where’s Cassie?”

Now on his feet, Nolan was able to get a better picture of the other accident and was actually scared for the first time since he’d realized he was awake. Two ambulances two police cars added their revolving lights to the big red fire engine. All five vehicles were on the other side of the freeway, the fire engine closest to the crashed Hummer that seemed to be the focus of all of this. However, it wasn’t the emergency vehicles or their flashing lights that made his heart jump into his throat. It was the scene playing out before them.

A Hummer had crashed and it was obvious that the emergency personnel had responded to help the driver, but what had happened since they’d arrived was not so obvious. Whatever it was, though, had broken the whole scene down into a frantic bedlam of writhing bodies and flailing arms; the whole thing reminded Nolan of one of those big gang fights you saw in London, the ones that usually involved fans of two rival soccer teams. Just a mass of swinging arms and kicking legs, a whole body running to or from the main pile.

And Brian was headed right for it.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Nolan turned to look at his friends and then back toward Brian. “I really don’t think he should be going…”

But it was too late.

Nolan watched in stunned amazement as the next few seconds unfolded. Brian neared the end of one of the ambulances and looked as if he was just about to call out to someone for help, his hand coming up to his mouth. The yell for help never made it out, though.

As he passed the end of the ambulance, he was savagely tackled by someone who’d been behind the vehicle. The two of them hit the ground so hard, Nolan could hear the smack of Brian’s skull on the pavement.

“Sonuvabitch,” Ray yelled, drawing Nick’s attention.

Both men moved instantly. They were on their feet and scrambling toward Brian and his attacker before the first screams began to tear through the air. Brian was desperately trying to fend off the man--was that a fucking paramedic--who was scrambling to get to him. There was something wrong with what he was seeing. The man didn’t swing at Brian or attempt to do any kind of blunt trauma that one would associate with an attack like this. Instead, it looked to him that the man was trying to bite him.

“What the hell?”

Nick was the first to reach them, throwing a solid kick with his massive foot into the side of the man’s head. Another wet smack and the man was flying sideways off of their friend. He wasn’t down for long, though. Before Ray could reach Brian to help him up, the paramedic was back on the offensive, scrambling to his hands and knees and lunging like an animal at the smaller man. Nick threw another kick at the man, catching him in the shoulder this time, but it didn’t seem to even phase him this time. He kept moving forward, his eyes locked onto Brian like a hungry dog spotting a piece of dropped food. An arm shot out and grabbed Brian by the wrist, pulling it toward his gaping mouth.

Brian let loose with a wailing cry as the man’s teeth came together on his thin forearm. Nick threw another boot, and Ray pulled Brian’s other arm, dragging him away from the crazy paramedic. One more kick, this one catching the man under the chin, sent Brian’s attacker reeling away from him. However, another scream blasted from their friend as a disturbingly large chunk of his arm went with. He fell backward onto the pavement, grabbing at his arm, blood oozing between his fingers.

“Jesus Christ!” That was Sarah, who had started to run across the highway toward them.

Nolan snapped out of his daze and moved as fast as he could to where Cassie was lying on the pavement. He crouched next to her, checking to see if she had any visible broken bones or debilitating injuries. He wasn’t sure what was happening here but he was sure that here was not where they wanted to be.

“Hey, baby,” he said softly, slipping his hand under her head. “Can you move? We need to move. Can you sit up?”

Her eyes lolled for a second then focused on his and, after a moment of silent contemplation, she nodded and, with his help, sat up. She moaned a little but didn’t cry out in pain which, Nolan thought, had to be a good thing; if she’d had any broken bones, she have screamed when she moved. Behind him, Matt was slowly trying to stand. Nolan turned to look at him and saw that his arm was hanging at an odd angle and was already purple and black around the elbow.

“Matt, I think your arm is broken.”

“Unngh,” the other man moaned as he looked down at it. “Fuck, you’re right. Fuck, fuck, shit!”

Nolan helped Cassie rise to her feet and turned to help Matt with his arm. By now, Ray and Nick were running back toward them, Brian between them and Sarah ahead a few steps. “What the hell is going on?!”

Nick and Ray moved passed them and toward Nick’s truck. “I don’t know,” Nick said, “but we’re getting’ the hell outta here! Now!”

Matt bit back a yelp as he bent his arm and cradled it, pulling the lower half of his shirt up with his other hand to use as a sling. Taking the shirt in his mouth, he nodded emphatically and started after them. Sarah went to the other side of the car, where Tim was just now regaining consciousness, moaning unintelligibly. Nolan turned back to Cassie and, slinging her arm over his shoulder, followed Matt.

“I agree whole-fuckin-heartedly, bud,” he said.

They didn’t make it three steps before he heard Tim scream. Thinking he’d been attacked like Brian, Nolan spun, nearly taking both him and Cassie down in the process. What he saw wasn’t a man being attacked or writhing in pain. No, it was far worse. Lying on his side, staring back into the smashed interior of his vehicle, Tim was screaming for his dead girlfriend to get up. To move, blink, something. And Sarah was trying to convince him that this just wasn’t going to happen. That Amy was gone.

She was dead.

“Fuck you,” he yelled at her, shoving her off him and scrambling toward Amy. “Amy, baby, c’mon! We have to get out of here. Wake up, baby!”

Sarah was being as patient as she could. “Tim,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder, “she’s dead. She’s gone. And we have to go.”

“I’m not leaving her! Get the fuck off me! I’m not lea--”

Sarah leaped back away from Tim instinctively, screaming. Nolan couldn’t see what was happening from his point of view. All he saw was the half of Tim that stuck out from the window of the upside down Focus jerk suddenly and begin to flail about, struggling to get out of the car; gargled screams and curses filtered out the broken windows of the vehicle.

“Holy shit,” Sarah yelled. She regained her composure and darted forward, grabbing Tim by the waist and trying with all the strength her small frame could muster, to pull him free of whatever had him inside. “Nolan, help! She’s got him! She’s hurting him!”

“Who,” Nolan asked, baffled. The only person left in that car was Amy, and, like Sarah said, Amy was dead. “Who has him?”

“Amy! It’s Amy! She’s killing him!”

Nolan let go of Cassie and fell to Sarah’s side, grabbing Tim’s belt. As he yanked, he got a look inside the car. Oh my god! What the fuck is going on, he thought as his eyes once again showed him something that just wasn’t possible.

Still hanging from her seatbelt, Amy was, in fact, attacking Tim. She had him by the collar of his shirt, and was clawing and ripping at his shoulders and face. Her head, still twisted in an impossible way, was all gnawing and gashing, trying her best to sink her teeth into Tim’s face. Tim, for his part, had switched from anguished boyfriend to angry victim and was, with all his might and ability in the cramped compartment of the crushed car, throwing punches and shoving her away. One wild punch connected solidly on the bridge of Amy’s nose and wrenched her head back like a speedbag. Nolan almost lost his lunch again.

“Get her off me,” Tim screamed. “Jesus Christ, get her off!”

Nolan gripped Tim’s belt on either side of his hips and, with Sarah pulling in unison, gave one final wrench and Tim slipped free of the car. He screamed in pain as Amy’s fingernails raked four jagged red lines along his spine. Adrenaline now pumping, Tim immediately got to his feet and began swearing back at the car.

“What the fuck, Amy,” he screamed. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

He turned to Sarah. “What the hell is going on?!”

Nolan opened his mouth, ready to tell Tim that they didn’t know and they were getting the hell out of here with or without him when Cassie screamed. Abandoning all cares and worries for Tim, Nolan snapped his head around. Cassie was standing where he left her, hands over her mouth, eyes wide with fear. Nolan followed her gaze and saw what she was screaming at.

“We need to move,” he said. “Right now!”

There were three of them, the paramedic that had attacked Brian who was now joined by a big fireman and a young police officer. They were just standing there, staring at Cassie. It didn’t take much to know that something was very wrong here. The paramedic was still chewing on the chunk of Brian’s arm, drool mixing with blood on his chin; the fireman’s left arm looked as if he’d shoved it into the business end of a woodchipper and dangled limply at his side; the police officer seemed the most normal, though his gun dangled from his fingers and was washed by a steady stream of blood that seemed to be coming from his sleeve. Nolan had no idea what was happening, but he’d seen enough movies in his life to know that it wasn’t good and they needed get as far away from here as humanly possible.

“Cassie,” he said, not looking away from the three men. “Cassie, babe, don’t worry about them. Get to the truck.”

She didn’t move.

“Cassie!”

She blinked and looked at him. He started slowly toward her, shifting his gaze between her and the staring men. So far they hadn’t moved and he wasn’t sure if they would, but we didn’t want to be surprised like Brian had. “Cassie,” he said, “get to the truck. Now.”

He turned to look back at Tim and Sarah. Tim was still freaking out a little, but had stopped yelling. Sarah had seen the three men and looked at Nolan, nodding, and started for the truck, pulling Tim with her. When they got to him, Nolan fell into step with them, heading toward Cassie and the truck beyond. The whole time, step for step, the men didn’t move. They just stood there, staring at Cassie as if she were the object of their life-long desires; a thought that would normally make him smile and find some way to rub the fact that she was with him in their faces.

Then he reached Cassie, she took two steps toward the truck, and all hell broke loose.

It was almost like her moving was the signal they’d been waiting for, like some visual starter’s gun. All three men shot forward at exactly the same time like horses out of a gate and barreled straight for Cassie. And, despite their various injuries, these men were fast.

Cassie screamed.

“Holy shit,” Tim yelled.

“Get to the damn truck! Go, go, go!” Nolan grabbed Cassie’s arm and began to run.

They didn’t have to go very far, however. In the time it took Nolan and Sarah to free Tim, Nick and Ray had gotten Brian in the truck and started it. Now they barreled toward them, screeching to a stop almost right on top of them. Nick had his window down and was yelling at them to get in while Ray was frantically calling a play-by-play of the oncoming attackers.

“Dude,” the skinny man yelled over Nick’s shoulder, not looking away from the fast-approaching men, “get the fuck in! They looked pissed!”

Nolan was already shoving Cassie and Sarah into the back seat--Shaun was now squeezed between driver and passenger--as Tim hopped into the bed where Matt sat with his back against the cab, trying his damnedest not to scream with every jolt to his arm. Slamming the door, Nolan followed Tim and barely had both feet off the ground before Nick slammed on the gas and the truck lurched forward. Nolan struggled to regain his balance as the truck swerved to get around Tim’s car and, just as he was sitting back on his haunches, something slammed into the passenger’s side, tossing him back onto his side. When he rolled over onto his back, he swore.

The paramedic who had attacked Brian was apparently the faster of the three men and had reached the truck, throwing himself onto the side, grabbing hold and was now trying to pull himself into the back with Tim, Matt and Nolan. His eyes were locked onto Tim--that hungry animal look he’d given Cassie twisting his features--and his mouth hung open, a piece of what had to be Brian’s arm stuck between a few of his teeth.

“Oh, what the fuck,” Tim yelped, scrambling away from the paramedic; if he could have shoved is way into the cab through the back window, Nolan was sure he would have.

Nick had stopped swerving and was not speeding away toward Morris, so Nolan was able to regain his footing. Rising to his knees, he drew his arm back. “Dude,” he yelled over the howling of the wind, “I don’t know what your problem is, but get the fuck off!”

With that, Nolan’s fist shot forward and connected, smashing the snarling paramedic’s nose like a brick. Blood spurted around his fingers and a sharp pain shot up the back of his hand and wrist. The paramedic’s head snapped back and his grip on the wet metal of the truck slipped. By now they had reached at least 70 miles an hour and, when the man’s limp body hit the pavement of the freeway, sending him cartwheeling end-over-end before he slid to a stop, Nolan’s stomach finally gave.

He puked all over the back of the truck bed.