Dog Blood

this, but the fuckers look well organized, and they know what they’re doing. Wearing yellow dishwashing gloves, the three of them move along the bodies at speed, each of them working at different heights, snatching rings and watches from the dead hands that stick out of the massive mound of rotting flesh, filling buckets with their stolen booty. A teenaged boy grabs each bucket when it’s full, replacing it with an empty one and carrying the stash away out of sight. What I’m watching makes me seethe with hate and anger, but what can I do? There are too many of them to risk taking on alone (and even though Adam’s with me, in terms of fighting I still think of myself as being alone). All I can do is wait for them to disappear.
    Hang on, something’s caught the attention of the grave-robbing bastards below me. One of them stops scavenging and calls to his pals. Carrying several weapons each, they head toward the door in the corner we exited through last night. I run back along the gantry, but before I get to the hatch I know it’s Adam. I hear the stupid kid before I see him through the window. Should have known he’d struggle to keep himself under control. The Unchanged are outside now, heading straight for him as he limps aggressively toward them, the sharp tip of his ski-pole walking stick held out like a bayonet. Fortunately the rest of this gang are either unaware or too interested in their haul to get involved. I climb back out through the door and down the ladder. Adam and the Unchanged are out of sight now, but I can still hear them fighting. With half a dozen rungs left I jump down and run around the corner to help, knife in hand. Adam’s on the ground, taking a heavy beating from two of them. To his credit he’s already taken the other one out. The scrawny little fucker is slumped up against the side of the building, impaled with Adam’s metal stick.
    I grab the shoulders of one of his attackers and slam him down onto the dusty ground. His body rattles with the impact, and the look on his face is one of surprise more than anything else. Before he realizes what’s happening I stab my knife into his chest, aiming for his heart. The blade’s stuck in his breastbone. No time to pull it out. I run straight at the other one, punching the side of his head with enough force to knock him over. He scrambles back up, shakes his head clear, and rushes at me, holding a rifle by the barrel and swinging it around like a club. I duck his first clumsy strike, then, while he’s still off balance, thump my axe into the base of his spine. I shove his face down into the dirt to muffle his screams until I’m sure he’s dead.
    Need to get under cover. We’re out of sight and there’s no sign of them yet, but the others will come looking for their people before long. Adam’s out cold, and my already slim chances of winning this one-sided fight have just been slashed even further. All I can do now is get out of the way and wait for the rest of these fuckers to move on. Trouble is, I realize as I shove my arms under Adam’s shoulders and start dragging him back toward the chemical storeroom, when they find the bodies of three of their own they’re not going to go anywhere. Then, as I reverse through the door and look back, I realize the tracks Adam’s feet have left in the gravel and dust will lead them straight to us.
    I dump his useless, groaning bulk in the space on the floor where I slept last night. There’s a dribble of blood running from the corner of his mouth, but I can’t tell if it’s just his mouth that’s cut or whether his injuries are more serious. The way they were laying into him, I wouldn’t be surprised if his insides were well and truly fucked.
    I stand up to lower the roller door back down, but it’s too late. There’s already another one of them standing over the bodies, and this one looks like he actually knows how to use the powerful rifle he’s carrying. He’s calling for reinforcements, but he hasn’t seen me. I duck down behind more of the acidic-smelling chemical sacks and watch him through a narrow gap between two waist-high piles. All I can see is his boots. As I’m watching, another two pairs of feet approach. I don’t think they’ve seen the tracks in the dirt yet, but it’s only a matter of time. It’s not like there’s anywhere else around here I’d be hiding. I try to stay calm and prepare myself mentally for the fight, working out which one I should attack