Page 19 of Desiderium (Devil Dogs of the Apocalypse #2)

Cole

Motherfucking, cock sucking, fucking stanky ass, rotten sons-a-bitches! I was almost there too. I was right behind Hawk and Aly, just a short distance from the water when I tripped—caught my foot in a damn gopher hole or some shit—and down I went.

“AHHHH!” I yell, unable to keep my outburst from flowing out of me. I wasn’t fast enough. Couldn’t get back up out of the fucking mud before they got to me.

Now...they’re everywhere .

Clawing at me.

Pulling at my legs.

Dragging me further away from the water and the safety it brings.

“Fuck you! Get off!” I kick and punch and kick some more but none of it seems to stop the onslaught.

When one goes down another takes its place.

It’s been seconds since I fell but I’ve already lost count of how many there are.

It’s a continuous assault as they rip and scrape, tearing and digging at my face, legs and chest.

“HOLY SHIT!”

“COLE!”

I hear them.

The guys.

The fear in their voices.

And the stubborn determination that drives them towards my location.

I know they see me struggling underneath the pile but I don’t want them to. Is that bad? That I’d rather they just leave me be—let me fight these guys off myself if I can—so they can focus on saving themselves?

“Fucking shit!” I growl, clawing my way through the mud, rocks, and various anatomical matter they’ve left behind. The disgusting decay that’s seemingly everywhere.

My fingers grab onto something hard. It feels like an oddly shaped rock, but when I turn it over in my hands, I realize it’s not that at all. Not even close. But I do know what it is and that doesn’t make me feel any better about my situation.

Complete with mottled flesh and goo, I clutch the lower mandible like a life line.

The jaw bone must have dislodged when I kicked one of them, or it just fucking fell off as a result of their advanced deterioration speed.

I don’t much care either way as I jam it into the closest body’s eye socket and continue trying to escape the huddled mass of death surrounding me .

I turn on my stomach in an attempt to get my feet under me and get away, but it’s a stupid move.

If there were only a couple to fight against, it would be the better option. Instead of trying to shimmy out from under their weight, inch by inch, I could outmaneuver them and run. Which is what my brain was focused on: getting the fuck out of there.

But against four or five, single-handedly, while fending for my life, in the mud?

Not likely. I’m overpowered and surrounded.

There was nowhere clear to escape to once I made the move.

Looking back, it would have been better to stand my ground and fight my way out.

This new position just gives them a larger, more accessible target that I can’t defend.

The newly formed, deep gouges covering my back, courtesy of the undead hovering over me like vultures, are proof of my mistake.

The pain doesn’t register right away due to the adrenaline pulsing through my body, but I feel the skin and muscle tearing and pulling every time I try to move.

There’s no mistaking it. Without having to look at them, I know they’re deep.

“FUCK! COVER ME!”

I hear them closing in and if I wasn’t fighting for my life, I’d shake my head at the sound.

These fucking assholes just don’t stop. Both the undead and the living ones.

Don’t they know these zombies are just going to fuck them up too?

That they could fucking die, here, too? It’s the last damn thing I want to happen—my best friends dying in a futile attempt to save my ass.

I should know better than to think otherwise, however.

No man left behind. It’s more than a cliché motto .

It’s a promise.

An oath.

A vow.

The scattered sounds of grueling effort can be heard all around me.

The muffled shots from their guns. The heaves and grunts of Hawk and Jax doing everything they can to save my sorry ass.

The squelch of decaying bodies crumbling to the ground at my sides.

The coppery smell of blood that fills the air around me, overtaking the smell of death, as one by one the bodies of the undead are lifted from their positions on top of me and disposed of quickly and unceremoniously.

“Fuck, man, he’s lost a lot of blood. Cole, you ok?

Answer me, man!” It’s Jax. Apparently, his way of checking to see if I’m still conscious is by smacking me upside the head.

Or maybe he’s just patting my cheek but the shock of everything is making it more than what it is.

Either way, the fact that I’m squirming all over the ground should have indicated that I wasn’t knocked out but I guess I should thank him for being thorough.

“I’m ok. I’m ok,” I manage to huff out, barely able to keep my eyes open as I see them hovering over me. Exhaustion pulls me towards the darkness but I force myself to stay awake out of sheer will power.

“That’s fucking right you’re ok! Fuckin’ dandy is more like it! Ain’t that right? You ain’t no baby-back-bitch! Now, let’s get your sexy ass up and get outta here, alright?!” Hawk yells down to my prone and beaten ass .

“Fuck you, Hawk,” I respond with as much oomph as I can muster behind the words. It’s embarrassingly weak but he hears me clear enough.

“Aww, I love you too you big hunka Doc salad, but there’s no time for a cuddle party no matter how much you wanna be the little spoon. Now, get your lazy ass up. There’s more coming. Cinderella’s already lost her shoe and it’s about to chime midnight.”

I look back over their shoulders and see the rest of the horde making their way down the beach. I try to stand but my leg gives out as soon as I put weight on it. I try again and fall down flat on the ground.

What the fuck?

I go to look at what the hell is wrong with my leg but get yanked up before I even have a chance. Jax turns me ass over tea kettle, throwing me over his shoulder, and carries me down to the shoreline in an all-out sprint as the undead close in on us once again.

They’re too close. And I’m too tired to fend them off, but I need to. I’ve since lost my AR-15 when they first took me down and dragged me back, but, thankfully, I finally remember...

I still have my Glock.

I wrap my hand around the gun, pulling it from my leg holster, and aim, emptying what rounds I have before I drop the mag and reach for a new one from my side pouch.

Reloading the son of a bitch, I rack the chamber and take aim once again.

The angle is weird, shooting upside down and sideways, but I manage to take out a few, even as Jax’s ass keeps on bouncing my shots all over the place.

Suddenly, four sharp cracks ring out from down the beach. Gun shots. Like a flock of deranged geese with a vendetta, the horde turns all together on a dime and heads towards the sound.

Who the hell would be shooting off a gun all the way over there?

Jax is here.

Hawk is here, too.

Aww fuck!

I see them swarm to her position just down the shoreline as she stomps around in the damp muck that used to be the lawn that led up to our beach access. The torrential downpour that lasted the past four days has turned what once was a beautifully picturesque lawn into a wet and muddy death trap.

Aly is up to her ankles in mud and debris.

Her movements are sluggish as she stares at the immense number of undead flocking to her location.

Since the horde was closer to us on the shoreline, and thus the sand, it’s easier for them to move, making them even faster than they were on the uneven, muddy terrain closer to the house.

She needs to get out of there. She needs to move.

Now.

But she’s not.

Why the fuck isn’t she moving? Shit, is it the mud? Is she stuck? Fuck, is it another panic attack ?

We’re running in the opposite direction, my hobbled ass still on Jax’s shoulder. The guys might not even know that she’s not in the water anymore and we’re too far away to get between the horde and her to do anything about it even if they did.

I need to do something.

Anything at this point.

I lift my head and yell as loud as I can, trying a last-ditch attempt to reach her somehow before it’s too late.

“ALY!!!!! RUN!!!”