Chapter 115: Beyond the Rubble

Paris shifted in the back seat, his iron pipe tapping against his knee. "Can't we just reverse and look for another street that goes through?"

"And waste another two hours driving around in circles?" Dion asked, turning slightly to look ahead at him. "Every minute this engine hums out here, it's advertising our position to everything within four blocks. If we keep searching for an open road in a car, we're eventually going to drive straight into a dead end with a horde behind us. I'd rather take my chances on foot than get trapped inside a tin can."

Basil stared out through the streaked windscreen at the mountain of shattered concrete. "An hour and a half on foot isn't great, but he's right. Sitting in this car hoping for a clear path is just waiting to get cornered."

Dion let out a quiet breath, settling his gaze on Basil first.

"Here's how we'll move," Dion said. "Florence and Julian stay in the middle. Basil, you take the rear and guard them. You'll carry the shotgun and the medicine bag as well. If anything tries to sneak up from behind us or cut around the sides, you put it down instantly."

Basil reached down without hesitation, picking up the shotgun which had been resting by Paris's leg, as Florence, from the back, passed over their share of the pharmacy's medical supplies over his shoulder.

Anton's group had gotten the largest majority of everything, considering the size of the group they were getting back to, so their bag wasn't too full.

"Consider it done."

Dion turned his full attention to Paris in the front passenger seat, his expression falling a little more serious as he locked eyes with the boy.

"Your job changes now, Paris. Through all this, you've been guarding Florence and Jules, but that's Basil's responsibility now. You're stepping up front next to me now."

Paris tensed, his hands tightening around the cold metal of his knife, but he didn't look away.

"I am not going to be holding your hand out there," Dion continued, his gaze cutting right through the boy. "When something comes out of that rubble, I won't have time to shout commands or look after you. You don't stay behind my shoulder, and you don't wait to see what I do. The second a threat moves into your space, you hit it with everything you have. Got it?"

Paris drew in a slow, sharp breath through his nose, his jaw locking tight as he nodded once, firmly.

"I'll move when you move," Paris said, his voice hard with resolve. "I won't drag you down."

Dion gave him a single, curt nod, unlatching his door to let the cold rush of rainy air sweep into the cabin.

"I'll carry Julian over the rubble," Dion said.

Dion stepped out of the sedan into the freezing downpour, the cold water soaking through his torn hoodie in a matter of seconds.

He opened the other rear door and pulled Julian carefully into his arms, lifting the small boy onto his back.

Julian wrapped his arms tightly around Dion's neck, squeezing his wet bear against Dion's shoulder.

"Hold on tight," Dion said softly, settling his grip under the boy's knees.

By now, his leg and other injuries had healed, so there wasn't any kind of difficulty doing this.

The mountain of collapsed concrete, shattered glass, and twisted rebar rose straight out of the flooded street like a jagged wall.

Muddy streams of rainwater poured down the steep slope of the debris, making the slick concrete edges treacherous under a careless foot.

Dion picked his path up the incline, his shoes carrying him over loose gravel before finding solid footing on a cracked floor slab.

He crested the top of the pile first, his lungs drawing in the damp, freezing air as he stabilized his stance with Julian balanced on his back.

He turned around and reached his free hand back down the slope toward Paris, who was struggling for footing on a loose sheet of corrugated metal.

Dion clamped his fingers around the boy's wrist and hauled him upward with a single, smooth pull, bringing Paris straight onto the ledge beside him.

Paris caught his breath, his boots sliding once before he set his stance firmly against the stone.

Behind them, Basil helped Florence navigate the steep incline, keeping his heavy shotgun tucked under his coat to shield it from the worst of the rain.

And finally, he helped pull Florence up to the top with them as Basil climbed himself up.

From the top of the ridge, the avenue ahead lay wide open, swallowed by falling water that hid the far buildings.

Dion picked a careful route down the far side of the collapse, stepping onto the flat, flooded asphalt of the main road.

He lowered Julian gently to his feet behind a rusted metal dumpster, giving the boy back to Florence.

Paris stepped up beside Dion, reaching down to draw his weapon from a worn sheath at his waist. It was a long, heavy hunting dagger with a thick spine and a scarred leather handle.

The blade gleamed dull grey under the falling rain as Paris adjusted his grip, his knuckles turning white around the leather.

With everyone down, they immediately got to moving.

And nearly immediately, fifty paces down the avenue, four figures stumbled out from behind a line of stalled utility vans.

Their pale, blood lathered and torn flesh was slick with rainwater, and their milky eyes locked directly onto Dion and Paris the moment the two had come close enoug for them to sense.

Their movements were fluid and aggressive, their heads snapping toward the pair with unnerving speed.

"It's runners, be careful!" Dion shouted as the sword began to congeal in his grasp, cutting through the flesh of his palm.

They surged forward through the standing puddles, their bare feet slapping against the wet blacktop in rapid succession.

Dion didn't wait for them to close the distance.

He lunged forward to meet the lead zombie, stepping inside its reaching hands and driving his blade straight through its throat.

The blade crunched through muscle and cartilage, cutting the creature's wet gasp short as it went limp.

Before Dion could wrench his weapon free, a second zombie veered sharply to his left, lunging straight for his exposed flank.

Paris didn't flinch or step backward.

True to his word, the boy stepped directly into the creature's path before Dion could adjust his stance.

Paris sidestepped the reaching, grey-skinned fingers, twisting his torso to dodge the grasping hands.

He drove the long, heavy dagger upward with all the force in his shoulders, thrusting the thick steel straight beneath the creature's jaw.

The heavy point punched clean through the roof of its mouth and buried itself deep into the base of the skull.

The momentum of the rushing body slammed full into Paris, throwing them both backward onto the slick, wet pavement.

Paris landed hard on his shoulder, but he didn't freeze or panic.

He planted his boot against the dead creature's chest and wrenched the bloody dagger free with a wet, heavy twist.

He scrambled back to his feet instantly, wiping dark blood from his cheek with the back of his sleeve.

A third zombie cut around the passenger side of a stalled car, heading straight for Florence and Julian.

Basil stepped out from the middle of the group without saying a word.

He didn't fire the shotgun and risk alerting the entire block to their location.

Instead, Basil swung the heavy wooden stock of the 12-gauge in a tight, brutal arc, driving the solid heel of the gun directly into the zombie's temple.

The impact cracked the skull with a dull, heavy thud, dropping the body instantly into the water at his boots, and Paris rushed over to finish it off.

Dion swept his blade through the neck of the fourth and final creature, dropping it cleanly beside the utility van.

The entire clash had lasted less than twenty seconds.

The street fell quiet again, save for the heavy drumming of rain against metal car roofs and the sound of Paris breathing through his nose.

Paris stood over the corpse he had killed, his hands were trembling slightly, but his eyes were clear, bright with the sudden, undeniable realization that he could fight and survive.

Dion stepped up beside the boy, allowing the blade to disappear back into his soul sea.

He caught Paris's eye and gave him a single, curt nod of approval.

"Good strikes," Dion said softly. "You kept your footing."

Paris let out a slow breath, setting his jaw tight as he gave a firm nod back.

Florence stepped forward and pulled Julian closer to her side, looking at Paris with a quiet sense of relief.

Basil adjusted the heavy canvas medical bag on his shoulder, his eyes scanning the surrounding rooftops with steady vigilance.

Dion turned back toward the east, taking his place at the head of the small column with Paris stepping right beside him.

"Keep your eyes on the alley mouths," Dion said, stepping through the shallow water covering the road.

They hustled down the avenue, fighting a couple more zombies, without thankfully finding more runners.

And eventually, suddenly, a sound cut through the steady roar of the falling rain.