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Blood uses me like a crutch to make it to the top of the two flights of rain-soaked concrete stairs without losing his footing and faceplanting. He’s wincing in pain, breathing heavily, and for a Black man, I can see that his face has become pallid. When I peer at his wound, I can see that the bandanna isn’t really doing its job and he’s bleeding out fast. I get a sinking feeling in my gut.
“Blood,” I say, “I think it’s possible your femoral artery has been punctured. If that’s the case, we got to get back to Leach’s office and make him call the governor for another EMS van. Or...”
“Or, I ain’t gonna make it, is what you were gonna say,” he says.
“Does your radio still work?” I ask. “I lost mine a long time ago.”
With a trembling hand, he presses the broadcast button on the chest-mounted device.
“Leach, Arty,” he says. “Is anyone there? Over”
There’s a lightning strike that’s visible now through an opening in the damaged metal roof followed by pounding thunder.
“I repeat,” Blood says despite the excruciating pain he’s in. “Is anyone there? Over.” He turns to me. “Dead,” is all he says.
We make out a scream then, coming from the direction of the office facility. Max Gator appears inside the now-open, breached metal door. She’s got the body of a man clenched between her long jaws. It’s Arty. His legs are gone and so are both his arms. She’s chomping on his midsection.
Arty somehow spots us.
“Shoot...me,” he pleads. “Don’t let her eat me while I’m alive. Shoot...me...now.”
The gator stops in its tracks while continuing to chew on Arty. It’s as if the beast is throwing the guard’s horrible death in our faces and trying to prove to us that no matter how badly damaged she is, nothing can stop her.
“Shoot him,” Blood insists. “Put our little friend out of his misery, Steele. Then blow the fucker up for good.”
Swallowing something dry and bitter, I aim for Arty’s head and put three rapid-fire rounds into it. My eyes tear up. I hate myself for what I have to do. But at least he doesn’t know what hits him, thank God. Next, I aim the Blood’s grenade launcher at Max Gator. But she manages to do something that surprises the hell out of me and the wounded Blood. She quickly turns, heads back through the open door, and bolts up the concrete stairs.
“How the hell did she manage that with her stomach and her chest blown open?” I spit.
“It ain’t from this world, Steele,” Blood says in an agonized voice.
Another voice screams. If I had to guess, the scream is coming from the fourth floor.
“Deirdre,” I swallow.
Blood limps his way through the open door, following Arty’s blood trail. The blood is pouring out of his leg now. It becomes immediately apparent that if I don’t get up to Leach’s office now, he’s going to bleed out and die. I can’t fucking allow that. Not on my watch.
I remove my mini-M16 and hand it to Blood.
“Sit yourself down, Blood,” I say handing him the machine gun. “We’ll switch up pieces since I need the last grenade to take care of that monster. Change out the magazine. It’s empty. I promise you that by the time you see me again, the beast will be dead, and an EMS van will be on its way. Just hang in there, brother.”
He nods slowly.
“Just do your best to make it quick,” he says. “I’m already feelin’ lightheaded.”
“What am I standing here for?” I say.
“Exactly,” Blood says.
With the grenade-loaded M16 in hand, I take the stairs two at a time, doing my best not to slip on the blood and rainwater that’s accumulated on them. My breathing is heavy and shallow, not due to over-exertion or exhaustion. I have too much adrenaline running through my body for that. Too much anger and the need for pure, naked revenge. My head spins and my blood runs through my veins far faster than God intended. In a matter of seconds, I’m about to come face-to-face with Max Gator.
Now that the screaming has stopped, and silence has resumed, I sense that the beast and I will be the last ones standing. Let the best monster win.