The Last Bastion of the Living (The Last Bastion #1)(67)

“Fucking shit!” Jameson screamed. “He bit me!”

Denman and Maria tried to heave him off the terrified young man. Spittle and blood flecked the man’s face as he chewed the flesh he had ripped from Jameson’s hand. He continued to fight, but he seemed more intent on devouring the bit of meat. Denman exchanged a startled look with Maria.

The squad tried to pin the attacker to the ground. He was abnormally strong and the bucking of his body knocked a few squad members away. Maria rested her full weight on his chest.

“Who is he?” Cormier screamed.

“What the f*ck is he?” Maria gasped.

The attacker swallowed and grinned up at her. “Hungry,” he hissed, and lunged toward her exposed neck.

Holm brought the bolt weapon down on the man’s face. Blood burst from his ruined mouth and nose, spattering Maria and Denman, then Holm slammed the weapon down again, pulverizing his skull. The man finally stopped moving. Gasping, Maria fell back, her gloved hands wiping away the cold blood from her face. Denman sat back on his ankles as the rest of the squad let go of the corpse.

“He f*cking bit me!” Jameson screamed. “He f*cking tore a f*cking chunk of f*cking meat off my f*cking hand!”

“Jameson, calm down,” Omondi ordered jogging into view. “Denman, take care of him!”

Visibly collecting his wits, Denman got to his feet and hurried to Jameson’s side, pulling his medical pack from his belt.

Maria stared at the ruined face of the man who had attacked them. He had looked alive, not like the Scourge. His eyes had not been milky, his skin had not been gray. And he had spoken. Yet, he had attacked as savagely as any Scourge. Rolling onto her knees, she leaned over the dead man.

Omondi knelt next to her and studied the man’s armor. “Bastion Constabulary issue,” he whispered.

“Yeah, I can see that. But no rank, no squad insignia.” Maria searched the man’s pockets.

“What happened?” Omondi asked.

Maria filled Omondi in as the squad gathered around Jameson and Denman.

“He didn’t look like a Scrag,” Maria finished in a low voice. “And….he spoke.”

“What the hell? Are you sure?”

Maria replayed the scene in her head, then nodded. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“What did he say?” Omondi asked, his brow scrunching above his dark eyes.

“One word: hungry,” Maria answered.

A slight narrowing of his eyes gave Omondi a thoughtful, yet frightening look. Bowing toward her, he whispered, “Tell no one.”

She acknowledged his order with the curt nod of her head.

“I’ll report it to the SWD. Maybe they will be able to explain this.”

“No I.D.” Maria said with a sigh after looking for dog tags or other forms of I.D. “Nothing.”

“Maybe he was from the last push.”

“But why wouldn’t he have I.D.?”

Omondi shrugged. “We’ll figure it out. Now, we need to get back to work.”

It felt as if the world no longer made any sense.



*

Physical exhaustion was a mere memory now and one that was quickly fading. Maria’s memories whispered that her limbs should be tired, aching, and sore, yet they weren’t. She felt strangely disconnected from the world, her own emotions, and her body. She ruthlessly killed the Scourge, dragged them to their funeral pyres, and watched them burn in the dying sunlight without feeling anything at all, physically or emotionally.

Her only real emotion throughout the day was worry when the first bonfire was lit. A whimper of fear slid through her as she wondered if the Scourge would be stirred into a rampage. Instead they scurried away from the burning pyre of their brethren. She supposed the fear of fire was innate in any creature. Watching the dead burn, she was glad that her senses were muted. Tucking her scarf up around her nose and mouth, she returned to killing.

The day felt particularly long. Their breaks were short and tense. The squad watched the Scourge with some trepidation. Fear that another anomaly might burst out of the horde and attack kept them all on alert. Speculation was high about what had spurred the Scourge to attack Jameson and Holm, but Omondi would silence anyone discussing the attack if he overheard.

"Keep focused. Keep alert," Omondi urged throughout the long, tedious hours.

It was nightfall when Maria’s disassociation from the reality around her unleashed her from its numbing constraints and she felt the first sharp pang of remorse and fear slice into her mind. The world swam sharply into focus and she could no longer ignore the truth. Despite slaughtering the Scourge all day, the valley was still infested, and it would be months before she saw Dwayne again.

Turning away from the fires tossing sparks into the darkness, she was glad she could not cry. She felt the need billowing up from inside of her, constricting her throat, but her eyes would not give birth to tears. The heat from the fire washed over her back and she wished fervently that it could warm her cold flesh and give her life again. Squatting down, she crossed her arms over her chest and starred down at the hard-packed, black earth. He braid tickled her cheek and she flipped it back over her shoulder.

Closing her eyes, she tried not to see the faces of all the Scourge she had killed today. She tried not to smell their burning flesh. She tried not to wonder about the lives they lived before infection. And she tried not to think of all the Scourge still filling the valley and the world beyond.