Author’s note: Almost there! Only one more chapter to go. It’s about 85% done. Then it’s off to the edits. I’ll also be making some changes around here (other than the theme which I just switched.) I’m pretty excited to dive into some new writing projects. Thanks to all of you who have hung in there with me until I could grind this thing out.

For those of you who have never read any of the Journey Of St. Laurent before: You are now reading an online serial pulp novel. If you didn’t start at the beginning, this is almost the end, so you’ll want to do so. Here it is Chapter 1:  Down By The Bay. In fact, if you are new to the site, you probably want to start with the first novel, Oasis. If you want to know just as soon as I’ve posted something new, you can watch the RSS feed or follow me on Twitter.

63: Hole in the Wall

My blood froze. It made me want to cry. And scream. And punch someone in the face. And give up. And about a million other things.

The aliens I had faced along my journey were incredibly strong. That, coupled with my injuries and exhaustion, meant more than trouble. There was no way I’d be able to kick free from that grip.

No doubt I was about to be pulled back into the corridor with zombies and dying alien guards. I was going to be stomped on, clawed at and chewed up by a horde of infected monsters.

To add that little extra bit of ironic insult to injury, I considered the fact that I had created the zombies that would be killing me any second now.

Only it didn’t happen.

Rather than pull me back, the alien lifted my legs and shoved them through.

My weight careened forward, my head collided with London’s stomach, and she stumbled back.

My arms were too weak to turn my downward crash into a ninja somersault. Not that I could do one of those anyway. In fact, I’m pretty sure my arms didn’t do anything to slow me down at all. Luckily, I was able to use my face to break the fall.

I heard an “oomf” escape London’s lips as she struggled to get her wind back.

A dark spot with a green outline appeared in the hole.

Having cleared me out of the way, a frantic alien guard scrambled to get through the hole.

It extended an arm and said something in that harsh alien language. Anybody with half a brain would understood it as a call for help.

I hesitated at the dilemma. Do I help him, or do I just press on?

If I had faced the issue immediately after any of the many times the aliens had attempted to kill me, the answer would have been simple – let it die. No, the answer was more like let it suffer with fear, marinate in pain, and then die as slowly as possible.

Why should this even be an issue?

The alien plead and reached out and kept wiggling forward.

It’s was no use anyway, it’ll never get through.

In the end, though, I’m a nurse, and I was sick to my core of all the deaths I had caused over the past little while. I’m supposed to help others. I’m supposed to save lives.

Not to mention the fact that the begging creature had probably just saved my life.

I reached out and clasped its outstretched hand with both of mine. I tugged with whatever feeble strength was left in my arms. It wasn’t much, but it felt like the right thing to do.

London didn’t ask any questions. She just stepped in and hooked a hand under its other armpit.

Its body lurched forward about six inches. Another good tug and its weight should pop forward.

I closed my eyes and imagined myself to be much stronger. “On three. One, two-”

Its body tore itself from our grip and flew backwards.

A hint of light reflected off the alien’s giant, terrified eyes, and then it was gone.

Immediately at least three hands thrust into view, scraping at the dirt and long buried timbers.

Something inside me went numb. I turned away and reached out for London with my left hand.

After relatively little fumbling she took my hand in hers.

I extended my right and leaned some weight against the jagged mine shaft.

The pinpoint of light seemed awfully far away.

Behind us, infected hands clawed at the small opening.

London and I fled down the corridor with all the speed of a frightened inchworm.

We didn’t talk. It seemed like too much work, and we both needed whatever energy we could muster just to keep moving forward.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the alien who had tossed me through the hole. It didn’t even matter why the guard had helped me. I had failed to help it in return.

Why did it gnaw at me? I had come there intent on killing every last alien I could. Well, mission accomplished.

My mind drifted back to my hometown of Oasis. It seemed like at least a lifetime ago. Terrorists had infected the population with the same virus I used on the aliens. Oasis was remote, and for fear of the infection going nationwide, the government had quarantined it at gunpoint. Only a handful of people escaped alive. I doubted whether any of the aliens would be walking out of their mine-turned-base.

I noted as I stumbled along that the pinpoint of light had grown in size to that of a pencil eraser.

Some kind of noise echoed on behind us, but I couldn’t bring myself to worry about it. There was nothing I could do about it anyway.

I debated if I was any better than the terrorists that had released the virus back in Oasis. I couldn’t convince myself either way.

Every few steps, London gave my hand the tiniest of squeezes. Each squeeze game me the little bit of energy and resolve I needed to keep moving.

I wondered if I’d ever be able to go back to nursing. With everything I’ve done, would that make me a hypocrite?

Somehow this victory was feeling a lot more empty than I had imagined.

Eventually the eraser of light grew to a dime, then a plate, then it started to look like a malformed doorway.

My whole body felt like cooked spaghetti.

Scratch that.

My whole body felt like cooked then chewed up spaghetti.

I glanced over at London. Dried blood and dirt matted down the hair around her head gash.

She looked back at me and gave me a wink. Either that or her eye was swelling shut.

The closer we got, the more the air smelled like forest.

Some kind of machinery operated outside. Somebody barked orders in English.

A few feet before the end of the tunnel, London announced us again. “Don’t, shoot, we’re human.”

We stumbled out into the brightness of day.

I squinted at the glorious sunlight.

London let out a deep breath.

At least twenty black-clad military personnel surrounded us, guns at the ready. Fancy goggles rested up on the foreheads of their helmets.

Probably some kind of night vision. That means they’re about to go in. They were prepared for dark, but there was no way they were prepared for virus.

I dropped London’s hand. “Quarantine us.” My words sounded like dirty brake pads. I could only half lift my arm to point back at the mine. “Biological agent.”

A soldier stepped forward and reached out as the pittance of my remaining strength drained away and I collapsed.

Author’s note: For those of you who have never read any of the Journey Of St. Laurent before: You are now reading an online serial pulp novel. If you didn’t start at the beginning, you may want to do so.Chapter 1:  Down By The Bay. In fact, if you are new to the site, you probably want to start with the first novel, Oasis. If you want to know just as soon as I’ve posted something new, you can watch the RSS feed or follow me on Twitter.

62: Race Issues

“Ugh. Wha?” She reached up and rubbed her temple. “Where?’

“We have to make it to the… hole in the… uhh… wall. Now.”

Her brain must have been getting up to speed, because she didn’t move or speak for a while. Finally, she grunted and pushed herself up to a half sitting position. “What’s the rush?”

“Just look up there.”

She tilted her head. Her eyes narrowed and then widened at the realization of the whole situation.

“How did we?” She winced and appeared to be holding back another round of vomit. “Are those zomb… ugh… zom…”

“Zombies? Yeah.” A couple of deep and productive coughs burst out of my chest. “Go us.”

“Right. Go us.” She flopped over to her hands and knees. “Let’s go.”

I clawed at the metal-coated wall, hoping to find anything to grab hold of. No such luck. At least I could put some weight against it. That should help with the whole standing process, right?

As soon as I put one foot flat on the floor, my leg muscles screamed a message up my spine that they were angry and going on strike.

I closed my eyes and told them aloud that was unacceptable.

They made a very convincing argument by shaking like crazy.

I reached down with my left and attempted to steady at least one vibrating thigh.

It didn’t help much, but it was enough to get me up.

My legs didn’t stop their rebellion just because I was standing, though. They ached and burned and kept on wobbling.

By the time I was vertical, London was already moving. She weaved side to side but kept her gaze straight ahead. She looked an awful lot like a punch-drunk boxer just trying to survive until the final bell.

Still, she looked substantially better than I must have.

The air this far down the tunnel was cool, but residue and damage from the smoke still burned in my lungs.

I did my best to take a deep breath, coughed out some kind of dingy mess, then set myself completely to the task of putting one foot in front of the other. It was no small feat.

The race was on. Us vs the zombie aliens. I hoped that the guards could keep them back long enough.

I tried to tell myself we could make it, but we had to hurry. The aliens couldn’t have seen the hole yet, otherwise they’d be running to it right now rather than attempting to stand their ground. If they hit the hole first, we’d be trapped.

Maybe they’ll hold them back without looking around. I tried to reassure my self, but I knew it was a long shot.

The situation unfolding ahead had an odd natural rhythm. First, the zombies moved forward. Second, the guards fired on and killed the front line of zombies. Third, the new front row of zombies stepped on or tripped on the recently fallen zombies. Fourth, the alien guards took a step back. Fifth, go back to step one. Forward, fire, step, retreat. Rinse. Repeat.

An infected alien stumbled over a plasma-smoldering corpse.

Of course, they could do lots of tripping, but that still isn’t going to be enough, either.

The further London walked, the less she weaved and the faster she moved.

I struggled to catch up, but it was useless. I was doing good just to keep moving. She might get there in time anyway.

About the time London hit the halfway point, one of the lantern guards looked back over his shoulder.

He didn’t say a word. He just stood there and stared.

Which was, of course, a bad strategy. He found his voice only half a step before an armed guard backed into him.

Whatever he was trying to say shut off mid word as both armed guard and lantern carrier over compensated for the collision. Arms and legs twisted, lashed out, then sprawled to the ground. The glowing globe clattered away across the floor.

Almost immediately three zombies flung themselves on top of the pile.

The fallen aliens scrambled to escape and stand, but it was no use.

The zombies clawed and bit at them, mercilessly searching for any flesh to infect. Like giant green and black ants, more zombies piled on top, adding crushing weight. It’s what they were programmed to do.

My stomach churned to think that might be London’s and my fate soon. The shining hope I felt when I had spied the hole in the wall was fading fast.

The remaining uninfected guards freaked out. They called out and looked over at their fallen allies. Their shots became increasingly wild and they accelerated their retreat.

I gritted my teeth and attempted to sprint. I only achieved a limping trot.

One more of them glanced back at and London and me. This one shouted something immediately.

Several big-eyed heads spun around to get a better look. They looked back and forth then back and forth again.

London raised her hands. “We’re not zombies!”

I have no idea if they understood her words, but the meaning got across. After all, none of them turned a rifle our way to mow us down like they were doing with the zombies down the hall.

The hole was big enough around to fit a body, but not exactly big enough to make it easy. The bottom was about four feet off the ground.

London touched the wall next to our exit before any of them caught on as to what we were doing.

The guard on the far left pointed at her called out some kind of instruction.

I wasn’t far behind the redhead, but I couldn’t tell if there’d be enough time for both of us to scramble out before the guards and a wave of alien zombies crashed into us. They were only a few yards away now.

At least London is getting out. If I can help it. I steeled myself and took a step away from the wall, then dug out the gun from my pocket.

London put her head and torso into the hole.

I crossed the line where cement portion of the corridor ended then raised the gun. The light was awful and even using both hands I couldn’t hold it steady. Still, I did my best to aim it at the crowd of zombies rather than the guards.

The guards edged back even further.

I pulled the trigger.

Nothing.

My eyes went wide. Oh crap. I doubled over and used every available muscle to rake the slide.

London’s legs lifted into the air and she shimmied her way through the hole.

The crowd of zombies pressed forward.

I shuffled over to London’s feet and raised the gun again. Another few feet and I’ll be shoulder to shoulder with them.

The line of guards started to fold toward me and the hole in the wall.

I pulled the trigger again.

This time the pistol made a satisfying bark and nearly jerked out of my grip.

The back of a zombie’s neck exploded.

London’s feet disappeared into darkness.

I pulled the trigger again.

Another bang and another jerk, but this time the slide locked open.

I hadn’t held the gun firmly enough. The shell casing hadn’t ejected and instead had gotten stuck in the slide.

Piece of crap. I tossed the gun at the crowd and made my dive for the hole.

Dive is kind of a strong word for what I really did. It’s more like I limply flopped into it. I hoped I could get through fast enough, but I had my doubts.

The wall was a conglomerate of dirt, rock and timbers and was about a foot and a half or so thick.

The sharp edges tore at my shirtless flesh as I tried to army crawl in far enough to let gravity take over and pull me through.

Two hands hooked under my armpits and tugged. I don’t know how much physical help it was to have London pulling on me, but it sure boosted my spirits. For a moment I thought that I might indeed make it out alive.

Until I felt a steely arm wrap around my ankles.

Author’s note: Hey, thanks for checking back in after I haven’t posted fiction for, you know, like, ever. Only a couple of chapters left now. This one took way longer to write than it should have, but I just couldn’t stand to leave it unposted forever. Hopefully I can leverage my recent excitement for writing back into a regular habit.

For those of you who have never read any of the Journey Of St. Laurent before: You are now reading an online serial pulp novel. If you didn’t start at the beginning, you may want to do so. Chapter 1:  Down By The Bay. In fact, if you are new to the site, you probably want to start with the first novel, Oasis. If you want to know just as soon as I’ve posted something new, you can watch the RSS feed or follow me on Twitter.

61: Between a Fire and an Infected Place

And then it occurred to me that I might not actually be dying yet. More accurately, I realized what I saw ahead was indeed a light, but not “the light.”

Well, that’s almost disappointing.

The zipping sounds of plasma rifles joined the alien screams.

If they’re shooting, who are they fighting?

I could only come up with two possibilities.

The first was that the military or maybe a remnant of Jex’s camp was storming the castle. That seemed unlikely as there was no easily recognizable gunfire. Considering all the aliens had done, any assault would definitely be an all guns blazing affair.

That meant the moment that I had both feared and hoped for was upon me. Virus-infected alien zombies must be in a pack and on the move. That had to be it.

I wonder how many of them there are?

I squinted my heavy eyes at the light. I thought I could make out a silhouette or two and then a blur of movement, but that was it.

It wouldn’t be too long before I could see more than I wanted, though. The light and the fight were creeping closer to us all the time.

Us.

I needed to check on London and make sure there was still an us to keep fighting for. If I lost her, I’d probably just give up and wait for exhaustion or alien zombies to finish me off.

The cement dug into my already raw palms as I pushed to my hands and knees. Somehow this cement felt extra hard.

I reached out and touched her arm. I followed it up and placed a couple of fingers on her neck.

Before I even had time to find a pulse, London groaned and turned onto her side facing me.

“London, are you okay?”

I still couldn’t really see her. She was just a gray blob a couple of feet away.

She made a bizarre gurgling sound.

I leaned a little bit closer to hear what she might be trying to say.

That ended up being a mistake.

The gurgling was broken by a sharp intake of breath, and then chased away altogether by the wet soundscape of London puking.

The vomit shot onto the hard floor, splashed up into my face, all over my hands, and pretty much everywhere else.

To some degree I’ve gotten accustomed to being puked on while on shift in the ER. Still, I never do get used to the smell.

The stench of gastric acid burned past the lingering smell of smoke. It felt like someone was inside my nostrils forcing them wider.

I lifted a hand to wipe it on my shirt, only to remember that I wasn’t wearing one anymore. It seemed like days had passed since it had been torn to make a bandage only to be ripped off the painful wound in my side.

I wondered for a moment how that wound was doing, but there wasn’t light to see and there was no way to clean off my hands enough to touch it. It didn’t matter anyway. The aliens or the alien zombies or plain old exhaustion would get me long before infection or bleeding could.

The light kept getting brighter and the noise louder.

I could finally see several aliens distinctly. The two closest to me carried lanterns. Beyond them was a line, maybe five or six across, of alien guards. They all had long skinny rifles and they were all shooting just as fast as they could.

Beyond the shooters was a tangled mass of alien heads, arms and legs. All grasping out, stumbling blindly along with the slow boiling fever of the zombie virus. There was no way of seeing exactly how many.

I don’t know. Might be hundreds back there.

Every third or forth shot one of the zombies went down, but every time one of them hit the ground, two more pushed their way into place.

How or why the zombies manage to get into such a large group I’ll never know. The creation and genetic programming of that virus was the domain of some seriously brilliant but sick doctors. It didn’t really matter anyhow. My plan had worked. The alien base was coming apart at the seams. None would be spared.

The victory didn’t hold much satisfaction for me, though. After all, it was about to claim London’s and my life.

I wasn’t about to just sit there and wait for it to happen. “But maybe lying there is the answer.” I toyed with the idea of rolling myself and London against the wall and playing dead.

No, that’s not going to work.

I wasn’t sure I could physically move her, And even if the guards or aliens didn’t directly engage us, we’d still be trampled when that mob passed by. There were just too many of them jammed together.

The only option left would be to make our way back down the tunnel into the smoke filled warehouse room.

That idea seemed worse. Even if I had the strength I wouldn’t be going back into that mess.

I remembered the pistol in my pocket. Of course, I could fight along side the guards, see if I could open a path to get by the zombies.

My head shook involuntarily. That’s not going to work either.

The bobbing lanterns shone closer.

I took a good look at the corridor. That’s when I saw it.

About halfway between us and them, the finished cement and metallic coated walls ended, leaving the original bare mine shaft.

Not ten feet beyond that was an extra dark spot on the wall. Underneath the dark spot sat a pile of rubble. Not just rocks, either. A few pieces of timer poked out of the mess.

I blinked my eyes hard and looked again to be sure.

My heart jumped. Yep, no doubt about it.

It was a hole in the wall. A long boarded over and covered up connecting shaft.

Had the dead scouts I had seen before been the ones to kick it in? Was it the way they had come in? More importantly, was it our way out?

Whatever else, it meant hope.

I reached over, grabbed London’s shoulder and gave her a shake.

“London. London. London!” I shook with the last bit if excitement I could muster.

In the dim light I could finally make out her shadowy features.

Her eyes drifted open and she coughed.

“Why…” Her hand reached up and slowly rubbed the side of her face. “Why does it smell like barf?”

I could have jumped for joy. If I didn’t feel so exhausted and broken and ready to die, that is.

“Come on, London. We’ve got to move, now.”