Ravenous

Chapter 40 Ambushed

Ambushed

RIPLEY

“Ithought he said he was coming alone!”

“Yeah, and now I’m kicking myself for trusting a cop not to lie right to my goddamn face,” Preacher snarls. “Come on, we gotta get downstairs.”

“Downstairs?!” I yelp. “What the fuck are you talking about downstairs?! They’re gonna kill my fucking sister!”

My head spins, my chest heaves, and it feels like I can’t get enough air into my lungs. They’re going to kick down that door and—

“Rip, baby, listen to me.” Preacher grasps me by the shoulders, his eyes digging into mine like hooks. “I need your head in the game, do you understand me?. If we want to get out of this alive, I need you sharp.”

Something rams against the door, nearly buckling it.

“GET THE TRUCK!” a voice booms over the gunfire. “WE NEED TO GET THIS DONE QUICK!”

I swallow the lump of dread forming in my throat and pull my shoulders back.

“Tell me what you need me to do.”

His eyes sparkle and he presses a chaste kiss to my lips.

“That’s my girl. Follow me.”

He takes my hand, leading me past the pool of blood and McKinney’s crucified corpse, to a door behind the altar and down into a dark basement.

“What is this, a goddamn bomb shelter?”

Preacher guides us through into the darkness, with nothing but the flashlight on his phone to light the way.

“Raph only chained the door to keep the tornado from knocking it in, it wouldn’t have been a serious job; they’re gonna be able to bring it down in a minute or two at most, even with the couple pews I managed to brace against it.

There’s a way out down here, but we have to gather some supplies first.”

“Supplies?”

I hear a loud boom, and even more glass breaking upstairs.

Shit.

When we reach the bottom, Preacher immediately rushes for the corner of the room, motioning for me to follow him.

Goosebumps rise on my skin, and I tilt my head up, trying to listen for the sound of footsteps.

Someone could break that door down at any moment, if they haven’t already, and we need to be prepared.

“Daddy always kept a stash of whiskey under here whenever my mama would try to pour his down the sink,” Preacher pulls a few bottles out of a large wooden box, lifting them up and examining them under the glow of his phone light. “Seems like he left us a few.”

Another grunt as he gets to his feet, and I count six bottles in total.

“Alright, so…”

“So we’re making molotov cocktails.”

I blink. It’s not the worst idea in the world, but not exactly what I thought I’d be doing when I woke up today.

“Alright, sure, but how are we gonna even use them without getting shot?”

Preacher aims his light at another door in the corner.

“That leads to the back of the church, and the entrance is pretty hidden. We can ambush them from there.”

“Preacher, we don’t know how many of them are out there!”

His phone chimes and he pulls it out of his pocket.

“Text from Raph.”

“And?”

“And they’re up shit creek without a paddle.”

“What about my sister’s men?”

“He thinks maybe half of ‘em are dead, but they got split up. We don’t have a hell of a lot of time.”

Preacher grabs another box, turning it over and dumping its contents onto the ground: soiled clothes, old vestments, and a couple of towels. I watch as he starts to tear them into smaller strips with his bare hands.

“You ever made a molotov cocktail?”

“Nope, but I’m a very motivated student.”

He smiles, tossing me some strips of fabric before he starts soaking his own torn up cloth in alcohol.

“Think of it like a candle, where the cloth is the wick. Soak the wick, stuff it a little ways in the bottle, light it, and throw as hard and as far as you can. You got it?”

“Got it.”

He grasps my shoulder.

“That’s my girl.”

Preacher places the bottles back into the small wooden box, and we head for the back door, both of us listening intently. I can’t tell exactly where the gunfire is coming from anymore, but if someone is waiting for us outside, they’re in for a rude awakening.

“On the count of three, okay? Once we get out there, we move till we find a target, then start throwing.”

“And if we get shot?!” I hiss.

“We either risk dying out there, or dying in here. You decide.”

I hear a loud crash upstairs as they finally breach the door, voices shouting overtop of each other as their footsteps clamor above us.

They’re going to find us, it’s only a matter of time.

“Let’s go out swinging.”

“Good choice.”

Preacher grunts, leaning back and shoving the door open with his shoulder, and the two of us fly out of the back of the church, right into the blinding light of a truck’s high-beams. I panic, my heartrate spiking into the stratosphere, certain we’ve just made our last mistake, but then…

nothing happens. Once my eyes adjust, I realize there’s nobody here.

They must all be busy looking for us inside.

I stay close behind Preacher as the two of us creep around to the front of the building. We’re met with even more glaring high-beams, positioned so I can’t even tell who’s shooting at who until I manage to spy my sister towering over a man across the lot, a crowbar clutched in her hand.

Preacher lets out a sharp whistle, and she turns, her shoulders slumping with relief when she sees us. I wave her over as he lights the wick of his first molotov and throws it straight at one of the trucks.

“Took you assholes long enough. Where the hell were you?”

“Getting supplies.” I hand her a bottle. “Let’s light these fuckers up.”

She grins, snatching the lighter out of Preacher’s hand and igniting the wick.

Her timing is perfect, tossing it straight at the front door of the church just as the men who had been searching for us returned empty handed. Glass shatters and flames erupt, the perfect accompaniment to the wailing of Adonis’ men.

The sound of screams and bullets, the sight of flames licking the night sky, it all sends shivers down my spine. They’re running around screeching like a bunch of goddamn panicked chickens with a fox in their coup.

Before they start to regroup, trying to figure out exactly how they got blindsided, we take the opportunity to push forward as a unit.

We take cover behind a large statue out front and throw a couple more bottles as the flames around the vehicles grow larger.

I have no idea how many of them there are, but I want to burn them all.

“What’s the plan?!” Wren asks over the chaos.

“Raph said you lost a bunch of your men?”

She nods.

“They picked off two of ‘em right at the start, before we had any clue what was happening. I think another two went down before you got out here. Maybe four or five left. They’re with Raph, shooting it out with the rest of the gang that didn’t head inside.”

Preacher sighs, weighing the odds in his mind.

“Then we’re not winning this. We meet up with the other group, kill as many of these fuckers as we can, and get the fuck out of here. If we can wreck the rest of their trucks there’s no way they can follow us. Not quickly at least. We’ll come up with more of a plan when we’re somewhere safe.”

It’s a good plan, but I’m not leaving without Adonis. I want him hanging from that hook in Preacher’s barn while we play with his insides.

A deep roar slices through the air and I turn just in time to see one of Adonis’s men charging me from the side, clutching what looks like a nightstick in his hand. I take a step back and hurl a bottle as hard as I can, praying it lands anywhere near him.

Maybe it’s my lucky day after all, because my makeshift weapon hits him clean in the chest, exploding into flame and forcing him to peel off to the side, dipping down and rolling in the dirt as his screams echo into the night sky.

Preacher glances around, eyes wide and frantic.

“Alright, then where’s my brother?”

As if on cue, I see someone running toward us and immediately bend down to grab our last molotov.

“Don’t you dare fucking throw that!” Raphael booms, nearly tripping over himself as he stumbles to his brother’s side, blood dripping from his nose and mouth. “I didn’t sign up to be barbecue today, even if that’s what you sick fucks intended.”

“Isn’t that nice?” Wren sighs, the two of them covered in matching grime and bruises. “Even in a crisis, Captain Dipshit is still quipping.”

“The longer we stand here and talk, the more we make ourselves targets for those assholes,” Preacher snarls before his brother can snipe back. “We need more weapons. Where are they?”

“Back in the storm cellar,” Wren replies. “There are still some AR-15s down there. Those assholes were right on the tail of that tornado, and pinned us out here pretty much the moment we came out.”

“Okay, and Raph, what about the men you had with you?” Preacher asks.

“I told them to stay behind and keep shooting while I got some more ammo. They have about half Adonis’s guys pinned for now. I think it's the only reason we’re not all dead yet.”

“Alright, so we have to assume it’s just us until we make it back to them.” Preacher nods to himself. “Let’s make it quick.”

We make a break for the storm cellar, with Preacher and Raphael leading the way. My legs burn, sweat pouring down my face from the heat as we pass the burning trucks, and all I can do is pray that I don’t take a bullet to the back before we reach our destination.

Suddenly, I see the church doors burst open, and a hail of gunfire flies out.

“Rip, throw it!” Preacher bellows.

I panic, with no clue at all what he’s talking about, sure we’re about to get mowed down, but then I remember the molotov still clutched in my hand.

The last one.

I stop in my tracks, igniting the wick with a shaking hand and throwing it as hard as I can, bullets whizzing by close enough to sting.

It misses the men entirely, but explodes into a fiery mess against the doorframe, splashing liquid-flame on few men brave enough to head outside.

One goes down instantly in a mess of flailing limbs, but the other two flee back inside in a panic as flames begin to spread into the building and out along the grass.

Raph throws open the door to the storm cellar and we scramble inside, following Wren straight to two large duffel bags stashed on the shelves.

She unzips one of the bags, pulling out weapon after weapon, and I laugh shakily.

“What the fuck were you preparing for, the apocalypse?”

Wren doesn’t say anything, her hands shaking as she opens the second bag and starts to pass out ammunition.

“You good?” Raphael asks.

She sniffles, wiping away the tears with her sleeve.

“Lost a lot of guys today. Nature of the business, but it still stings.”

I want to reach over, to squeeze her hand and tell her it’ll be okay, but I know that’s not the truth.

And so does she.

Neither of us know if we’re getting out of here alive.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Preacher growls.

I put my hand on Wren’s shoulder, leaning in.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

She chuckles, tears still lingering in her eyes.

“Those men out there? They depended on me, and I let them die. I shoulda been better, that’s all. I’ll be fine.”

I want to keep pressing, but Preacher steps in front of us, a strange mix of confidence and nerves.

“Ladies, we gotta go!”

Wren nods, and the group of us head for the entrance, Preacher peaking out first to ensure the coast is clear before the rest of us follow.

It looks like we were quick enough to get out of there before Adonis’s men regrouped.

Flames continue to lick the air, and I can’t help but notice most of the screams that were piercing the night have gone quiet, the only noise being infrequent gunshots from the other side of the building.

That means there are at least a few of Wren’s men left, keeping the force split.

“Alright, here’s the plan: kill anyone who’s not on our side, regroup with the rest of Wren’s people, and then we get the fuck outta here!”

I watch as Preacher takes the lead, alert and ready for anything.

He moves like a goddamn soldier, the rest of us falling in line, moving carefully and laying down gunfire as some of Adonis’s men come into view like we’ve been doing this forever.

Sure, we’re not that accurate, or maybe I should say I’m not that accurate, but it doesn’t matter at this point, as long as it keeps them pushed back.

I will admit, the kick from the rifle has a sort of appeal to it, makes me feel powerful, in a different way from all the knives and ropes. Every burst of our collective gunfire slamming into metal, or wood, or anything really, it gives me new confidence.

For a few seconds, I feel like we might actually win this.

And then something sails through the air and hits the ground right next to my feet.

Small, metal.

My brain has trouble parsing what it even is.

Then the smoke begins to spew out, blanketing the area.

Fast. Far too fast.

Suddenly, our carefully composed group of soldiers are a coughing mess, stumbling forward to our goal, trying our best to keep shooting.

My head is spinning, my ears ringing from gunfire.

I’m not even sure if it’s coming from us anymore, the combination of the smoke and the blinding lights making it impossible to tell what’s going on.

Hell, I can barely see Preacher in front of me.

I lower my gun, trying to wipe away tears from the chemicals that are coating every inch of my lungs, the smoke seeming to follow as we run, like it’s determined to trap us.

I should have known Adonis would pull some cowardly shit like this.

There’s a sharp whistle through the smoke not too far ahead, and suddenly, my gun is wrenched from my grip.

Something hard hits me in the side of the head.

I collapse onto the ground.

All of my senses are tied up in pain, as something hits me again in the face, crushing the bridge of my nose as the choking chemical-scent keeps me struggling to even see straight.

“Ripley!”

I turn my head, desperate to find him, just as the smoke clears enough for me to see Preacher on his back.

He’s being attacked, pinned to the ground as fists rain down on his head. He’s not out yet, but he can’t block every punch.

And he just keeps calling out for me.

I have to get to him, to get the two of us away from all of this.

I start to flail, not even knowing who or what I’m hitting, but it doesn’t seem to matter, only making my attacker angrier. He hits me again, this time a strong hook right to the jaw.

And I’m screaming for Preacher, for my sister, for Raphael…

But everything sounds like it’s under water, feels fuzzy and wrong.

Vision blurs.

And I slip away into darkness.