November (Part 1)
November Manuscript 1 This is an account of when the furry world hits the human world. This is a story I wrote where a race of bloodthirsty reptiles come to Earth, and commandeer the capital cities of each state. They are bent on turning all humans into furries using surgery and genetic enhancing. For this chapter, we see things through the eyes of Soren Shepherd, a firefighter in Phoenix, Arizona. * * * The twenty or so of us sat huddled around a single candle in the dark room, only stacks of boxes shielding us from the horror outside. Most of us gazed into that tiny flame, looking for some sort of salvation, or maybe even wishing the flame was a bonfire, burning them into ashes, and whisking their souls away to a better place. Faintly, I heard the symphony of screams and cries coming ever closer. I knew we didn't have much time. I heard a faint whimper from one of the injured, and an answering sob. Somebody shifted their position, and someone else chastised the shifter. Then, I heard a bang from below us. I hoped that whoever was in pursuit of us wasn't what was coming. In a flurry, I heard someone shuffle across the floor, and caught a glimpse of their face as they bent towards the candle and blew it out, as if that miniscule light would sacrifice our position. I heard several more heavy sounds from downstairs, and then I felt people rushing around me and trying to find some shelter in the piles of corrugated boxes. Seconds later, I heard someone shushing somebody else. A child let out a small cry, and the shusher threatened the parent. This led to somebody pushing someone else, knocking them into a stack of boxes. The boxes fell to the floor, releasing their contents in a cacophony resembling a beginner drummer's first set. The sounds from downstairs ceased, and all of us sat as still and as quiet as gargoyles perched eternally on the roof of a church. Then, I heard the sound of footsteps flowing up the stairs. I listened to them crashing through walls, doors, and any other piece of architecture that dared block them. I held my breath, as if that would save me. I heard some shuffling, and the barely audible clicks of the menacing claws of our pursuers. A group stopped outside the door, and I listened to them scratching at the lock. The scratching turned into shredding, and before I knew it, the door was thrown open. Even in the midst of this Jurassic nightmare, I tried to see their faces, but the light from the hallway washed them out. The shadows they cast across the rotting floor reminded me of coffins ready for burial. The child let out a shriek, and one of the Pursuers leapt over the boxes, and pinned her to the floor. I put my hand to restrain the man next to me, who had lurched forward in attempt to save the girl. He looked at me with an urgent questioning. I shook my head, and pointed at the several others hiding alongside us. The creature looked like something straight from Jurassic Park, except with more gills (I assumed for swimming), frills, claws, and fierce, dagger-like fangs. The paws had transparent webbing between each finger, and I figured its feet were similarly equipped. The reptile's scaly flesh was almost beautiful, in a morbid kind of way, shifting from a deep green to an iridescent blue with scarce a movement. The Pursuer's entire body was ripped with muscle, and reminded me of a reptilian, carnivorous, Arnold Schwarzenegger. I covered the man's mouth before he could scream away our hiding place. I heard a crack, and the girl fell silent. Soon thereafter, I heard more screams, and the room became a battlefield. Boxes crashed to the floor, and spread their contents like ripped pillows. People tried to run, to escape a fate dreamed up only by the bottom feeders of the darkest society imaginable. Only five of us made it out the door. One turned back to aid the rest trapped in the room, but he too was captured. We ran down the hallway, turned on a dime around a corner, towards the elevators. My mind was still reeling from the narrow escape out of the battlefield room. I led the group to the bank of elevators, and frantically hit the down button before it hit me that there was no power. We turned towards the stairs. I started to head down, but I knew there would be more of those creatures waiting for us there. I hesitated, turned back, and went up. When we reached the top flight, I heard the door three flights down bang open, and the slurred hisses of their speech in a quiet flurry of urgency. I pushed the two people closest to me back against the wall, and shushed them. We all sank to a resting position hugging the wall, sprawled haphazardly across the stairs, silent as a tomb the day after a burial. I tried to slow my heartbeat, as if it would echo off the narrow staircase, and into the ears of the Pursuers. I closed my eyes, and worked on calming my nerves. I'd led them out of that room, and I wasn't about to panic, and risk their lives again. One of the predators must've hit the other, because they started into a noisy fight. I seized the opportunity and we all ran through the door and out onto the roof. Five hundred feet to my right sat a badly charred helicopter on its helipad, looking sadly like a bird I had nursed back to health when it had a broken wing. That would be of no use to us. Neither would all the random pipes and tubes and vents leading into the building like catacombs through a medieval castle. I scanned the rooftop for something, anything, for protection. One of the three threw a pebble at my back. I turned around. She was pointing at the door we had just come through. They were coming. "Quick!" I whispered hurriedly, and guided them around the corner of a large, concrete block. We ducked down, and waddled like sick ducks across the gravel towards another door. About two or three yards from the door, I felt all my senses tingle with a paranoid fire. I stole a glance over my shoulder, and was rewarded with the unsettling gaze of one of the Pursuers, peeking around the corner. "RUN!" I yelled, and launched for the door. Locked. I ran parallel to the wall, and tried another door. Locked again. As I went to check another door, I felt something grab my shirt. It was one of my followers. The thing had her leg, and she had my shirt. Before I could help her, the shirt ripped, and she fell into the icy grip of the beast. I reluctantly turned away, and ran for the next door. It was open. I let myself in, and waited impatiently for the other two escapees. They showed up, one of them dragging the other. A trail of blood marked their path. I slammed the door shut as soon as they were inside, and just in time to see the other three creatures arrive. I stepped back from the door, panting from the run, and wondering why humans were stupid enough to wage war on a society that was already shell-shocked from a previous war. I wished that things were still the way they had been only a mere two days ago, when my car was still parked in the driveway warming up Monday morning, and the coffee pot was brewing full-bore. I wished I was still sitting at my table, reading the newspaper, and munching on a donut, preparing myself for another long shift at the firehouse. Instead, I was here, hiding in a closet-sized, nasty-smelling room, with two panicked people, one seriously injured, and four psychotic, rage-infested things clawing at the door. I could smell the blood from my fallen comrade, and figured the stench was driving the beasts outside nuts. Then, silence fell over us like a heavy curtain. The mad clawing stopped, and the sound of the shifting gravel under the scaly feet of the killers faded. I sat on the cold floor, starting to feel like maybe we would finally get a break. Just as the thought finished scrolling through my head, the door blew inward, and they were standing there. One allowed what looked like its equivalent of a grin to spread across its face. One of the others clicked its claws. I looked over at my followers, and silently mouthed my apologies as the creatures rushed into the room. I felt a stinging pain to the right side of my head, and then I was gazing across the floor, my left cheek going numb from the cold, and I saw the others being brutally attacked. My vision became a little cloudy, eventually giving way to stars. Through the ever-thickening galaxy, I watched them tie up my newfound friends tightly. As they hoisted them to their feet, I fell into a dreamless, painless, sleep. * * * I rubbed my eyes lazily, and tried to see my surroundings. I rubbed my eyes again in a futile attempt for clarity. It wasn't until the fourth try that I realized I was blindfolded. I followed the cloth with my fingers, groping for the tie to free my vision, but found none. Instead, I felt the side of my face that the dragon-lizard hit. A bandage was stuck securely to the wound. There were scratches all the way down my right cheek, and onto my neck. My shirt was ripped at the collar, and hung there in jagged, loose, strips. I pulled what little was left closer, as if for warmth. I tried to curl into a ball, but my right ankle was held firmly in place by a steel anklet and a chain. I tried to drag the chain, but it was at the end of its length, and I was too tired to move. I felt gravel dig into my skin as I moved, and found that my senses were starting to return. I could smell a mix of smoke, tar, dirt, and rotting corpses. I heard a scuffle in the gravel, and then silence, then felt a pebble hit my shoulder. I thought nothing of it, until a second pebble flew my direction, this time hitting my leg. A third confirmed it wasn't just hard rain, and a fourth was the last straw. "What?" I crackled. My throat felt like sandpaper, and trying to speak was like trying to walk through a hole in a cheese grater. "You the one?" came a voice I assumed to be from the rock-chucker. It was feminine, and used to probably be smooth and sassy, but all I heard was doubt and fear. "The one what?" I said, trying to form more saliva and wet my throat. "That led us out of the room. The one that saved us." "All except Jerry, and Chrissy." Came a male voice. "Leave her alone. She's not Zelda, you know." "No kidding." I felt my voice starting to return. "Untie her, quick. We need to get out of here." Said the female voice. "Why? I work alone." The male must've opened the door. I heard the click, then a swoosh of the door swinging open, then something heavy being drug along the ground. "Here you go, sweetie." The female said. I felt the blindfold fall away, and I closed my eyes against the meager light. She helped me to a sitting position, and gave me a bit of water. I drank gratefully, happy for the cool liquid on my desert throat. "My name is Taylor. Taylor Carlon. I worked downstairs in human resources before all this happened. Would you believe November is my birth month? Lovely birthday present, huh?" I allowed Taylor to help me up to my feet. I used the cool wall to stabilize myself, and tried to get my bearings. "I hope you don't mind I snuck a peak at your wallet, Soren Shepherd." Taylor said. Obviously, we were still on the rooftop. We had all been laying in a secure corner of the roof, where we had concrete slabs on four sides, a thick steel roof, and gravel underfoot. The door hung open, and I saw the drag pattern left from the man dragging a body of a former evacuee outside. This wasn't the closet for sure, but why would the bloodthirsty Pursuers let us go hide somewhere else while they had us so neatly cornered? I staggered a couple steps, with Taylor at my side, and concentrated on each step. After we rounded the corner, I began to walk on my own, and by the time we reached the man and the corpse, I was mostly back to normal. The man was standing at the door we had run onto the roof through, leading to the stairs. "Well, let's go!" said Taylor. "Wait." He said. "Something's not right." The steel door was closed, and even I could sense something amiss. There were no Pursuers, but something else was lurking down there. I felt a familiar tingle run my spine, and a flock of butterflies festered in my gut. I knew that feeling... It was the feeling I got when the alarm at the station went off, when we arrived at the blaze, and raced into action. It was the feeling of my adrenaline pulsing faster through me than my own blood, which could only mean one thing: fire. "We need to find a different door." I said, and started off looking for another one. "This is the only one." Said the man. "You don't plan on taking Jerry all the way too?" Taylor said. "He's still my friend, living or not." "It's dead-weight." "He deserves a proper burial." "He'll slow you down! Leave him here. It'll be okay." Taylor was getting annoyed, and I knew if we didn't get off this building, she'd kill him. I looked around a little anyways, just to be sure it really was the only route down. I went back to the two, and told them to stand back. Way back. I found a broom in the bloodstained closet, and went back to the door. Standing back, out of the line of direct fire from opening the door, I used the mop-end of the broom to jiggle the handle. After a couple minutes, and a little swearing from him, the door flung open. I leaped back behind a concrete slab as an explosion ripped out of the stairwell. It plumed out like a horizontal Hiroshima bomb blast, then retreated back into the stairs. I watched the flames race along the door frame, and all across the ceiling inside. I decided we shouldn't go in there. Taylor let out an involuntary whimper, and I started looking around for other options. A neighboring building was pretty close. If the fire hadn't spread, we could jump across, and descend in there. I walked to the edge, looked down into the trashy alley, then across the gap to the other side. With a running start, all three of us could make it across. As I was figuring how far back to start running, Taylor came up from behind me. She was holding one end of a long piece of a two-by-four. "Will this work?" she asked. The man appeared, with no corpse in tow, just behind Taylor. He lifted the board, and tested it without really figuring anything out except that it was a two-by-four. "I think we've got a plan." I took the board, and with his help, laid it out across the gap. We almost lost it, accidentally letting it slide too far. After a minute of chastising each other, we finally coordinated our efforts and got it set in place. He jumped up on the edge, and tested it first. Taylor and I were happy to oblige at his insisting he be the pioneer of the two-by-four bridge. He tested each step with a shaky foot, one step at a time, until he was two-thirds of the way across. He glanced back at us over his shoulder, and that's when it all happened. It looked like slow-motion to me. The board cracked under the stress, throwing him off balance. He flailed his arms, spread his feet apart, and froze. I heard a series of little pops, then a couple small cracks. The board split into two pieces, and I swear he hovered just long enough to realize what happened. With a terrifying screech, he plummeted to the alley floor. I turned away and plugged my ears to avoid hearing the smack of his hitting the concrete. Taylor let out a yelp, and called me over to the edge. He had grabbed onto a crumbly ledge on the other building, only a single story below the roof. "Climb! You can do it!" I yelled. Taylor even chipped in a little encouragement. He swung a little, and grasped a rock jutting out of the building. He rocked and lodged his foot. As he went for another hold, the rock came loose in his hand, and he was dangling six stories up by one hand. Taylor and I held our breath. He tried a slight swing...to no avail. He tried again, but that was a fatal move. He lost his grip, and slid off the building. The man tumbled end over end through the air as if he were a helpless rag doll. Suddenly, to us the gap between the buildings seemed to widen. I gazed down at the lifeless body sprawled out on the ground in morbid curiosity, watching the light breeze blow litter up against his side like a snowdrift. Taylor stared down after him, then at the wall, then back down at him. I tore myself away when I saw flames slithering out of the stairwell door, and attempting to ignite the roof. I ran back to the area they found the wood plank earlier, but it was the only one. I looked around a bit, for metal, for rope, for anything. My searching was cut short when the fire exploded out from a window near my head, blowing tiny pieces of hot glass into my face. I fell backwards into the gravel, and cursed the fire. Although my face stung like I was walking through a bee storm, I ran back to Taylor. "We gotta jump! We gotta jump now!" I yelled. "We can't make that jump! It's too far!" Taylor replied. I grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a choice. "Either jump with me over there, or end up burning in here!" I let her go and analyzed the distance. Keeping my eyes on the far building's ledge, I backed up at a half-run until it felt right. I stopped and stared ahead. I must be crazy, I thought. Just then, another explosion shattered part of the building somewhere below, and I felt the structure begin to sag and weaken. I really am crazy I thought, as I launched into a full-bore run. I focused intently on the ledge, and the exact spot I intended to land. I timed my strides so my right foot would be the push-off. I blew past Taylor, who I heard call out my name, and before I knew it, I was sailing. I kept my eyes on the ledge, and continued my running strides, even in midair. I felt a pang of sheer terror in my stomach as I saw that I was about six inches short. I managed a lunge, and thrust my hands out to grab whatever I could. My open palms made contact with cool stone, and my fingers closed in a reflexive action. My nose was pressed up against the wall, and I could hear my rapid breathing echo back at me, as well as Taylor's cries. My arms burnt as if there were a million fire ants crawling all over them, and I scraped at the wall with my feet, looking for a foothold that might offer my arms some miniscule rest. Finally, my right foot found a hold, and I used it to push upwards. Once my elbows cleared the ledge, I pulled myself up and over, rolling across the ledge, and flopping onto the tar; exhausted. I took a breath and a half, then got up and encouraged Taylor. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a glimmer clashing with the ebony tar. It was a whole pile of steel planks. I didn't know if they were steel for sure, or what, but they looked solid enough...and heavy. I hefted one partially up, then pushed it all the way and slid it. I almost lost the plank, but Taylor caught it in time. A third explosion ripped through the center of the building. I watched it blow out all the windows in the front of the building. "Come on! I'm here, don't worry Taylor!" I yelled when the explosion's cacophony ended. She stood up on the ledge, and slowly started out. With each tender footfall, I watched the plank bend. As long as it doesn't... she fell, and reached for me. I reached out and grabbed her hand. My back screamed, and I found it wouldn't let me pull her up. She held on with both hands now, and somehow found good footholds to climb up. She rolled over the edge and we collapsed to the tar. I heard the metal plank clatter to the ground, accompanied by a ruckus too loud and dusty to be anything but the building collapsing. I let out a long, shallow breath, and just said nothing. * * * The streets were totally deserted. The only moving forms were the trash bags and light debris being hussled around by the violent breeze. I had never seen the city so filthy. I couldn't even tell what color the streets were. There was a fiery glow on the horizon, silhouetting the city's once glorious skyline. Plumes of thick smoke rose up from the skyline like tornadoes. This place was definitely Ground Zero. The entire city. Never before had the human race experienced this. Every major city in the world now looked like this. The Pursuers weren't going to end here for sure. I saw no bodies when Taylor and I got to ground level and started walking. The building next door was just a pile of smoldering ashes and twisted metal mixed with dusty, smashed, concrete. The entire sky was a brownish-orange, and cast and eerie glow for our walk. The shadows were so unnatural, that we constantly were stopping to double-check and make sure there really wasn't anything there. "Where are we going?" Taylor asked. I thought about the city hall, but that would've been first to be burned. There was always the library, or the hospital. "Home." I said, and headed towards the intersection. Taylor had no argument and quickly fell into pace alongside me. "So, have you lived in Phoenix your whole life?" Taylor asked as we walked, no doubt to keep our minds off what may lay ahead, and what's left behind. "No. I was born in Colorado, and moved to Phoenix when I was six. When I turned eighteen, I moved back to Colorado and went to school." "To be a firefighter?" "No. Business degree. I failed the first year, and decided to join the Air Force and be a pilot. Well, I never got to flight school since I broke my leg in a combat exercise. I got honorably discharged after four years of service. I decided to be a firefighter after that, and went to Colorado to do it. I stayed there for about eight years, and moved to Phoenix. Most of my family's here. Was here, anyways. So, what about you?" I kicked a small rock. It clattered across the asphalt and fell down into a sewer drain. "I was born and raised in Phoenix. I pretty much floated from job to job until I gained enough experience to get a job with Inca Trading Company in Human Resources. I hate everything about the job except the benefits package." She chuckled. We passed by a burnt shell of a car, then a Jetta that was untouched. I stopped next to it and peered in the window. Taylor asked me if I was going to hotwire it. "We can take it only if you're not afraid of driving with no lights..." I said. "Why?" "So we don't attract attention." I popped open the door...unlocked...and began searching for the keys. I checked the console, glove compartment, and ashtray, finally spotting them tucked in an envelope pinned to the visor. I slid the key into the Jetta's ignition, and turned it. The car's tired old four-cylinder turned over three times, and fired up. I let it idle while I adjusted the seat. "There's a coil in my back." I squirmed against the old car's seat. "There's one in my rear end, so you should feel lucky." Taylor replied. I chuckled a little as I slipped the Jetta into gear and drove. * * * I swung the Volkswagen into a parking spot outside my firehouse. The lot was empty save Riley's old GMC pickup. The house was apparently untouched, and one of the engines was parked out front. "A firehouse?" Taylor gazed at the old-fashioned red brick station. "Yep. Second home to me." "I thought we were going to your place." Taylor opened the door and got out. "No. Actually, I spend more time here than at my apartment. Even my dog lives here." Just as I mentioned my dog, the rambunctious German Shepherd/Dalmatian mix exploded from the backside of the station and raced towards me. I got down on my knees and caught my dog as he screeched to a halt in front of me. "Taylor, this is Kite. Kite, say hi to Taylor. Good boy!" I got up and dusted off my pants. Kite bounded around me in fast donuts. We walked to the front door of the firehouse, and went inside. I was constantly harping on the others about leaving the front door unlocked, but I was happy they had this time. The entire place was exactly the same as it had been when I made a run over to check up on the rookies on Sunday. Kite blasted by me and went searching for his beloved stuffed fire engine. I walked through the entry way, into the kitchen, and out into the engine bays. The ladder was missing. My baby was gone! I was the sole full-time driver for that truck, and it was gone now. I saw that the pumper and the search and rescue rig were still here, and grabbed the clipboard to check the equipment on the rescue. Taylor showed up in the bay, and I gave her the task of hunting down a list of supplies. She took off, and Kite came in with his red engine. He dropped it at my feet. I threw it towards the ladder's spot and he took off after it. When the checks were complete, and Taylor and I had packed up the rescue, we had to convince Kite to leave his usual post here. He had gotten so used to being at the station, that he kind of filled the 'firehouse dog' shoes. I stole the plushy (and soggy) engine from the shepherd, and tossed it into the rescue. Kite sat and stared up into the rig, tongue hanging out, patiently waiting for me to go get it. "Git in there!" I said, pointing up to the seat. I started towards him, and he leaped back, and barked at me. I retrieved the engine from the rig and dangled it in front of Kite's face. He went for it, and I pinned him to the floor. I hefted him up and into the backseat, slamming the door before he could slide out. "Let's go." I said. We climbed up into the rescue. This truck was built for anything. It was traditional fire engine red with white accents, gold decals, and chrome grab bars and platforms. The rescue had nineteen lockers packed with gear and survival supplies, including camping gear, climbing/rappelling equipment, and a few weapons with ammo boxes nearby. Inside the back of the rescue was a stretcher, medical supplies, and two jumpseats for nurses. It had thirty five inch tires, fifteen inch rims, and about a foot and a half body clearance. It was my favorite (after the ladder of course). I started the diesel and pulled out of the station. We bumped over fallen trees, random debris scattered over the roadway, and an occasional roadkill. I didn't point out the roadkill to Taylor. "Where are we going?" Taylor asked after about a half an hour went by. "I own this property out in the desert that used to be an old airport. I maintained the runway for my plane, and operate a small courier business." * * * We pulled up to the airport gate, and I jumped out to unlock it. Taylor watched me like a hawk until I got back in the firetruck. I drove through, and parked on the tarmac. "Wait here." I said. I walked up to the back of one of the hangars, and opened the roll away door. I parked the rescue inside the hangar, and closed the door. The hangar was my main hangar, where I kept my small HondaJet, and my office/temporary living quarters. "We're going to stay here until we can figure out what to do. There's a shower over there, and cots set up here. Good night, Taylor." I walked to the stairs, and climbed up to my office. I sat down in the cushy chair, and swung around. The glow of fires lit the sky like the day of our independance. I closed my eyes, and tried to block out the day. I knew this wouldn't be over soon, and wondered vaguely what the Pursuers had in store for us. Kite walked in and curled up at my feet, looking up at me with his deep, trusting eyes. I reached down and rubbed the dog's ears. "We'll be okay, sweetie. I promise." * * *
To be continued