Infestation

- 5 -

Banks stepped back to get a fresh mag from his webbing belt; Nolan stepped in front of him to take his place, never slacking the crack of rounds into the encroaching beasts. The creatures milled over and around each other in a growing pile of bodies in the doorway. Some kept coming forward but others were content to try to feast on their dead.

Banks got the new mag in and was about to step forward again when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was McCally, with Briggs behind him; each man had brought two twenty-liter containers of gasoline through from the back room.

Banks looked back at the doorway; a slight incline led down to the door itself and then there was a steeper slope beyond the door as the ground went down to the shore track, a slope swarming with even larger numbers of the beasts.

The call has gone out; fresh meat available here.

“Fetch more of this shit,” he shouted to the two men, then hefted the first of the containers, opened the cap and poured, emptying the full container. The gas flowed quickly away from him, pooling down around where the creatures swarmed around the filing cabinet in the doorway. The fumes smelled and tasted heady in the confined space.

“Cease fire. And back up,” he shouted, getting out the old Zippo and a handkerchief from his pocket. “Fire in the hold.”

He lit the handkerchief, dropped it in the gas and stood back, not quite fast enough, feeling the skin tighten at his brow, smelling the singe of his eyebrow hairs.

The creatures burned and popped, dancing like water on a hot griddle. Banks and his men had to step back even farther as an acrid stench of burnt flesh, almost vinegary, filled the hallway. The soft parts burned quickly and the beasts were reduced to little more than charred empty shells in seconds. Well, you wanted a barbecue, didn’t you?

They wouldn’t need any more gasoline, or any more shooting; the beasts behind the burning ones in the doorway retreated in the face of the flames, backing off some yards away outside the door. The gasoline flamed away fast and within a minute there was nothing left in the doorway but a smoking mess of charred shell and burned fragments. Banks, with Hynd at his side, stepped forward and stamped down the remains into ash so they could get the door closed again, then pushed the charred filing cabinet back against it.

Hynd looked at him.

“Nasty wee fuckers, aren’t they.”

“Aye. Let’s hope they’re not too persistent to go with it.”

Banks turned to the squad.

“Mac, you get first watch; keep an eye on these buggers. And if they look like they’re coming back, give us a shout; we can open the door and pour a couple of canisters of gasoline down the slope; we might get a dozen or more of them.”

Mac replied with a mock salute and Banks left the others back through to the main room. He was relieved to see the retreat of the beasts had been a general one; they had stopped flocking around the window and although their attention was still on the building, they were now keeping several yards back. If he thought they had any intelligence in them, he might surmise he had made them wary.

He turned to Hynd.

“We bought some time, Sarge,” he said. “But we can’t stay boxed in here; all they have to do is wait us out and we’ve got a mission, a boat to get to. Time’s a wasting.”

McCally spoke first.

“There’s a wee yard out back, Cap,” he said. “We could be out and away into the other yards in no time.”

“I remember,” Banks replied. “Skidoos too. But I’d rather leave them where they are in case we need to make a quick getaway later on. We’ll slip out and head south on shank’s pony.”

“If they let us,” Hynd replied but Banks ignored him and went to check out the yard.

The generator was housed in a storage area out back, looking over the yard where the Skidoos were parked. Banks opened the solid door, intending to survey a possible escape route for them. The next house south was only six feet away, but it might as well have been six miles. The yard was filling up with the creatures, scuttling and scurrying around from the front, already crawling over and around the Skidoos. The beasts saw Banks at the door and surged forward; he got it slammed in the face of the attack just in time and heard them throw themselves in frenzy against the heavy steel. This door was thicker than the one at the front; at least he hoped so, for he’d seen how easily they’d managed to tear strips out of metal.

“I’ve seen this movie,” Hynd said, deadpan. “They’re going to get in. They always get in.”

Banks kicked at the stack of gasoline canisters at his feet.

“Aye. And if they do, we’ll burn them back out again. I’ve seen this movie too.”

The creatures continued to throw themselves against the metal door, the dull thuds echoing around the generator room.

Banks saw Hynd looking upward, then caught his gist.

“I’ve seen that movie too; hiding in the loft never works.”

Hynd smiled.

“I was thinking more about the roof, Cap. Could we get over to the next building from there?”

Banks tried to picture the distance in his mind and nodded.

“It’s a jump but if we can get a wee run at it, then aye, we could do it. But it doesn’t get rid of the beasts.”

This time, Hynd kicked the gas canisters.

“If we get enough of them in one place…”

Banks smiled grimly.

“A trap with us as the bait? Sounds like a cunning plan to me. See if you can find us an easy way up.”

Banks went back through to the main room. Mac stood off to the right by the main doorway, keeping watch. Nolan and Briggs were by the main window, looking out over the shore where the creatures milled and swarmed.

“A routine mission… wasn’t that what you said, Cap?” Nolan said. The Irishman was still pale but he looked little the worse for his earlier escapade. They both knew if they got out of this and got home, Banks would be having harsh words about the other man’s break of protocol back in the garage earlier; but that was for later. Recriminations didn’t get the job done.

Banks joined Nolan in looking out over the shore track. By his rough estimate, there were still more than a hundred of the beasts there. And more round the back now too. Where are these fuckers coming from? And why now?

All he got for his ruminations were more questions he couldn’t answer and none of which were getting the mission any closer to completion. But Hynd helped him out.

“Over here, Cap. Found it.”

The sergeant shone the light on the end of his rifle up to the ceiling in the corner, to where a rope dangled from a hatchway. He pulled it, the hatch went up, and a step ladder came down. Hynd went up two steps and shone his light around in the space above.

“All clear,” he said.

“Get ready to move fast,” Banks said to the others. “We’re taking the high road out of here.”

Mac stayed on watch at the door while Banks got the others ferried up into the roof space; Hynd went all the way up first.

“There’s a skylight window,” he called down. “We can get out.”

Banks had the men carry all but one of the gas containers up the ladder along with their packs, leaving behind only the one at Mac’s feet. He called up to Hynd.

“Get everything onto the roof; then get yourselves out there. We’re right behind you.”

Only after making sure everyone was up and out did he call Mac over.

“You first,” he said. As Mac put his foot on the ladder, they heard the front door squeal again as the filing cabinet scraped on the floor.

“Wee bastards have been watching us all along,” Mac said.

“Aye. And I’ve been watching them.”

Banks stepped forward and kicked over the gasoline, letting it gurgle all over the floor before following Mac up the ladder. He got to the top as the first of the beasts scuttled into the room. He pulled the ladder up behind him, flicked the Zippo into life, and dropped it down as he closed the hatch.

“Burn, fuckers,” Mac said at his side.

The smell of acrid burning reached them even through the closed hatch and the floor under them got hot fast.

“Up you go,” Banks said and helped hoist Mac out onto the roof, then allowed himself to be pulled up after him to join the others on the flat roof of the post office. Thin smoke rose up behind him; the fire downstairs had taken hold quickly.

“Whatever the plan is, Cap,” Mac said, “we’d best get to it fast.”

Hynd was over to the south, looking at the gap to the next building. Banks went and joined him at the edge of the roof. Fortunately, the next building also had a mostly flat roof and the jump didn’t look daunting, little more than six, maybe seven feet.

“Mac and Nolan, pour half the gas down over the front door, Briggs and McCally, the rest down at the back at the yard door. And I hope somebody’s got a match; I lost my lighter.”

Hynd had matches, and a handkerchief he ripped in two.

“I’ve got a better idea than pouring, Cap,” he said. “Molotov cocktails?”

They poured all but two of the gas canisters over the sides of the roof. By this time, smoke came through the shingles and heat rose up in waves at them; it wasn’t going to be long before the roof itself took hold.

Banks slung his weapon over his shoulders to nestle beside his backpack, then sent everyone but Hynd and himself over to the adjoining building; Nolan almost didn’t make it, his wounded legs giving way on landing but luckily Mac was there to steady him and keep him upright. The Irishman gave Banks two thumbs up when he recovered his balance.

“You ready?” Banks said to Hynd. They each held a container of gasoline with a gas-soaked handkerchief stuck in the open cap.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Hynd said.

“Is this going to work?” Banks asked as the sergeant lit up both containers.

“I’ve only ever did it with a milk bottle and petrol back in Cambuslang when I was a lad; I don’t know about this Canadian stuff. I’ll see you in Hell if it doesn’t.”

They each hurled the containers as far as they could out over the swarming creatures below, then ran for the edge of the roof and launched into the air as the gas went up with a blast of heat and flame behind them.

Banks landed hard but again, Mac was there to steady him. The weight on his back almost overbalanced both of them until Hynd steadied all three with an arm. They turned to see the post office fully aflame, the roof already starting to fall in on itself. In the yard at the back, the beasts burned. And they weren’t going to get to use the Skidoos; the flames had taken them too and one of them went up with a dull whump as the heat got to the gas tank. The beasts not caught in the conflagration retreated fast toward the shoreline. None paid any attention to the men on the roof.

The main danger looked like it was going to come from the fire itself; the breeze off the sea whipped flames across the gap between the buildings. It was only a matter of time before this building went up along with the post office.

“Right, lads, time to go,” Banks said. “Lead on, Sarge. Get us to those kayaks and get the flock out of here.”

Hynd led the team quickly across the roof. They let themselves down easily on the far side, then, moving as one silent unit, headed away south into the dark.

None of the creatures followed them.