Burnout (The Invasion Chronicles Book 1) Page 15

  Grandpa and the others had not retreated without a fight. There were bodies lying on the ground, and Lydia made herself leap over them without looking, ignored the way her shoes slipped and slid in puddles of blood and other, more viscous stuff. More Burnouts were following her and Caleb, drawn by the noise, and she had to fire over and over. Her other instincts were chomping at the bit, begging to be let loose, and only the knowledge that she might need her abilities to help Ava and Grandpa kept her control steady. She clattered up the front steps of the McCain house with Caleb a step behind, and three Burnouts only inches behind him.

  “Go, go, go!” She did not need Caleb’s warning. She sprinted for the door, slamming it open and instantly turning on her heel the foyer. Caleb slipped in beside her, and together they tried to slam the door shut just as the pursuing Burnouts threw themselves at it.

  Lydia screamed as the heavy weight of the Burnouts—two females and one male—crashed into the door, forcing it back open several inches. A bare arm thrust into the house, clawing blindly at the two of them as they set their shoulders against the door. Lydia ducked away from the questing fingers, leaning on the door with all her weight. She screamed again when the door shuddered underneath them, the Burnouts pounding on it in a frenzy. Another arm, smaller than the first, pushed through the opening, and Lydia heard the heavy thud of more footsteps on the wooden porch.

  Caleb let out a cry of his own and began pounding at the questing, clawing arms with one fist as he set himself against the door harder, trying to drive the things back. The door shuddered again, slamming open a few more inches before they managed to push it back.

  “Watch out, I’ve got this!” she hollered.

  He managed to force the larger limb away from them, back out of the door, shouting in fear and disgust when the Burnout tried to latch onto his wrist. Lydia dug her feet into the floor, pushing and shoving. Dark shadows pressed against the tall, narrow windows that flanked the door. She closed her eyes.

  It was just a small pulse of power, just a little shove, but it smashed the door shut with a resounding crack, crushing gaunt, bony fingers to pulp and leaving trails of blood down the door frame. Caleb gasped, stumbling against the door before he slid the deadbolt home. The shadows at the windows became fists that thundered against the glass, and Lydia knew they had only themselves a few seconds.

  Caleb slumped against the door, breathing hard. “Damn that’s handy,” he panted.

  “Has its moments.” The emergency weapons were right where they were supposed to be, leaning against the wall by the front hall closet—three of Grandpa’s rifles and extra ammunition, as well as the pistol. She stalked forward, tucking her blaster into the holster again. The ammo box was an old military model, with a carry strap. That, she slung diagonally over her chest. “I’m gonna circle around to the back of the houses. Anyone who’s still…” She stopped, her throat tightening. “Ava and Grandpa are there. So’s Zack.”

  It had to be true. It just had to be. She grabbed one of the rifles, checking that it was loaded and ready.

  “What did you mean out in the truck? You said this ‘wasn’t supposed to happen’.” Unbidden, images from the vision Zack had shared with her flashed through her mind.

  Running through the court.

  The certainty the people she loved were going to die if she did not make it in time.

  The bodies. The screaming.

  The presence beside her—unfamiliar and familiar at the same time.

  “You told me leading the pack away from the barricade would save us, but this…this is what Zack showed me! It’s happening just the way I saw!”

  “I don’t know!” Caleb burst out. Immediately, he snapped his mouth shut, swallowing hard. “I don’t know,” he repeated, quieter this time. “It should have worked. Getting those Burnouts away from us should have stopped it.”

  A Burnout crashed hollowly against the door, and Caleb jumped away from it. The whole door shook and vibrated. A crack suddenly splintered through one of the windows beside the door. Lydia stared at Caleb.

  “Look, we can figure it out later,” he said tersely. “Right now we gotta find the others. He checked his own blaster, before grabbing another of the rifles. He put the carry strap over his shoulder, leaving the last rifle for her. Lydia was silent for a moment, and then made a decision.

  “Let’s get going, then.”

  Instead of answering, Caleb scooped the pistol up and shoved it into his belt.

  “I’ve got your back,” he said with a grim nod.

  They hurried through the dark house, hardwood floors creaking and echoing in the empty rooms. Every piece of furniture had been stripped from the house and used in the barricades. The only traces of the family that lived here were a few old-fashioned paper pictures still hanging on the wall—frozen smiles and moments of happiness that would never exist again. All of the modern holo-frames had been taken down and stripped for circuitry and power sources. The pounding at the front grew louder and more violent with each second, and just as they reached sliding-glass door in the kitchen that led out to the backyard, Lydia heard glass shattering in the front hall.

  “I’m not leaving without Zack,” Caleb said as they dashed out into the darkened yard. There was a grim set to his jaw. “I don’t care what we find over there, I’m not runnin’ without my brother.”

  “Good. I’m not running without my grandpa and Ava,” Lydia replied.

  “Long as we understand each other.” Caleb shot her a fierce grin, all teeth and sharpness. For a moment, he looked even more like Zack than he already did. They followed the line of the fence that separated the McCain backyard from Emily’s, finding the doorway that had been cut into it. Cautiously, they opened it an inch or so.

  Lydia peered into the yard, checking for anything waiting for them. There were no Burnouts immediately visible, though, and so she slipped through with the rifle at the ready. Caleb boosted himself over the fence, landing with a muffled thud in the grass.

  "All right, let's get...whoa." He straightened, moving closer to Lydia's side.

  "So that's how they got in," Lydia said numbly.

  The fencing in the back of Emily’s yard had been partially demolished. There was at least a ten-foot gap, broken and splintered fence posts lying like so much garbage on the grass. It looked as though a swarm of Burnouts had just stampeded against the fence until it gave way. Lydia blinked in disbelief. How could that have happened? How could they have not noticed a group that large prowling along the fence line?

  Her eyes tracked along the fence until they came to rest on the small gate that let out onto the side yard that ran between Emily's house and the Royce's. That, too, was hanging askew on its hinges, the latch splintered and destroyed. It was easy to imagine the Burnouts crashing through the fencing; easy to imagine them stumbling around Emily's yard until the commotion caused by her and Caleb jumping the barricade drew them to the little gate. Easy to imagine them spilling out on the unsuspecting people. She swallowed hard, clutching the rifle to her chest.

  "C'mon," she said. Caleb gave a short nod, and they loped over to the fence between Emily's yard and the Royce's. The gunfire grew louder the closer they got. The sound sent whispers of terror down Lydia's spine, even as it gave her hope that her people were still alive. The situation in the house was getting dire.

  As they pulled the hinged fence planks aside, Lydia saw why.

  "Crap." Caleb leaned in to peer over her shoulder. There were a dozen Burnouts in the Royce's back yard, and more were stumbling in through the side-gate that had been broken like Emily's. That was why Grandpa and the others hadn't retreated out through the back...they were cut off. The Burnouts were massing on the small back patio, pounding and clawing at the kitchen windows and door.

  "We're gonna have to clear them out," Caleb said, taking in the situation.

  "How? We go in guns blazing, it'll just draw more." She pointed to the ruined gate, where another few Burnouts were stumbling throu
gh, their faces contorted into animalistic snarls, though they made no sound. The things knew there were people in the house...they would be impossible to distract, now.

  "We gotta block off the gate, and then take out the ones already in the yard."

  “How?!” Lydia gritted out, slamming her fist against the ground. Everything in her was screaming to get inside the house, to get to Ava and Grandpa. Caleb had to be just as desperate to find Zack. She looked around the yard, searching for something—anything—that could help them.

  “How many can you just throw?” Caleb asked, tapping the side of his temple with one finger. Lydia shook her head.

  “Not that many, unless you plan on carrying me out of here. And they broke through the latch—I could push the gate shut again, but I can’t hold it shut.” Not with so many Burnouts shoving against it. Not with so many other distractions that needed her attention. She wasn’t strong enough.

  There had to be something, though, some way she could…

  She glanced around Emily’s yard, the seconds ticking in her head like a countdown. There had to be something she could use to lock the gate again—a length of chain, a piece of lawn furniture, something. Her eyes lit on the debris from the back fence, and she straightened as though a jolt of electricity had gone through her. She grabbed Caleb’s arm, pointing back at the ruined pile of lumber and posts.

  “There!” she cried. “Help me get one of those posts…I need it over the fence!”

  Caleb looked confused, but didn’t question her. He straightened from his crouch and dashed over to the pile of debris, keeping a wary eye out for any other Burnouts as he went. Lydia followed, and together they hefted one of the thick, heavy fence posts up, yanking it free of a few slats and a broken cross brace still nailed to it.

  “What do we do after we get this thing over the fence?” Caleb asked as they dragged the heavy post through the overgrown grass and weeds.

  “Follow it,” Lydia said flatly. “I’m going to stop the ones coming in from the front, you’re going to cover me, and then we’re gonna to clear a path for everyone to get out of the house.”

  Grandpa and Ava were her priority, but the thought of something happening to Emily, or Jill and Andrew Royce, was almost as horrible. Her stomach twisted sickly at the sound of more gunfire. God, they had to hurry.

  “What then?”

  Lydia bit her lip, the obvious answer springing to mind even though she didn’t want to think about the possibility. They had a limited amount of ammunition, and a huge section of their barricades had been compromised. There was only one choice, if any of them managed to make it out of this alive.

  “Run,” she breathed out. “We head out the way the Burnouts came in, make our way around to the front, and we run.” They dragged the post over to the side of the fence, and Lydia slipped the carry case off her shoulder. Caleb grunted as he heaved the post upright to lean against the fence, so that they could just push it up and over.

  “I just need a few seconds, okay?”

  “Got it,” Caleb replied, without hesitation.

  Ava needed her. Grandpa needed her. If she and Caleb couldn’t clear out a path of escape, they were all going to die, here. There was no other choice.

  “Be careful,” she said.

  Caleb nodded tersely, and Lydia sucked in a deep breath of the night air. Warmth shot up her spine and down her arms and hands, a building burst of power. This was nothing, she told herself sternly, no different than the games and lessons she’d had since she was a child. She slung the rifle over her shoulder and passed the ammo box to Caleb. No different.

  Another scream rose up over the din of gunshots.

  Lydia clenched her fists, let the electric feeling grow wilder. They hefted the post to shove it over the top of the fence. As soon as gravity began to take its course, Lydia let go of the synthetic wood and ducked through the makeshift doorway. She had barely cleared the gap when Caleb scaled the side and flipped himself over as well, landing beside her with a grunt.

  The yard was teeming with Burnouts, massing up on the patio. More poured in through the broken side gate, drawn by the frenzy. Lydia feared they would break into the house just by sheer numbers. She gathered herself—the way her grandmother had taught her, the way her mother had taught her—and focused on the broken gate.

  It hung on its hinges, rocking back and forth as body after body shambled past. She and Caleb could clear the yard…she knew they could. First, though, she had to stop the influx. She breathed out, bracing herself. This was nothing she had not done before, nothing she couldn’t handle.

  There was no gathering momentum, this time, no slow start the way there was with the Burnout that had been Jenny Morrison.

  One heartbeat.

  Two.

  Three.

  Lydia breathed out sharply.

  The gate flew shut, slamming with such force that the broken pieces of the latch splintered off completely and fell to the ground. The sound echoed like a gunshot, and several Burnouts on the fringe of the mass startled backwards, swiveling towards the sound. Lydia paid them no mind; Caleb was there.

  Beside her foot, the heavy post trembled on the ground. This…this was not something she had done often. The weight of it was intimidating, the force she would have to throw it with already scraping raw across her nerves. The strange, sparking energy that always came when she called shivered through her in nervous anticipation, and there was just the smallest flare of a warning ache when she pushed the post harder, struggled to lift it. She was strong, but she rarely used her powers more than once or twice at a time.

  “Lydia, c’mon…” Caleb raised his rifle and racked it with quick, nervous hands as the Burnouts turned towards them. The gate Lydia was holding shut by sheer force of will shuddered in its frame as the Burnouts on the other side just kept coming, kept trying to throw themselves against it. Lydia could feel each blow as if she was physically holding the gate shut, and the electric feeling up and down her spine turned hot; turned prickly with strain. She gritted her teeth, pushed harder, and the post rose in the air, quivering.

  Caleb stepped forward, edging his way in front of her while staying out of the post’s intended path. “Do it!” he shouted, and was forced to fire a first shot.

  The thunder of the rifle’s discharge caused most of the Burnouts to swing around toward them. Caleb didn’t wait for the things to zero in on them. He fired as fast as he could, mowing the Burnouts down before they could take more than a few shuffling steps towards them. Even so, they had moments, at best, before they were swarmed.

  Moments were all Lydia needed.

  With a cry, she reached out and flung the fence post forward, throwing it with everything she had—the weight of terror for her family and her life boiling into the surge of power. The tingling, electric warmth bloomed hot down her back, sharpening quickly to pain. Oh, it had been too long…too long since she’d done something that required this much focus. It was harder than she ever remembered it being, but the post hurtled through the air. It flipped up at the last possible second to crash into the gate at a steep angle, one end jammed up hard under the remains of the latch, the other dug deep into the earth beneath it.

  Lydia gasped and let go of the post, heaving for air as the energy settled again. Her head swam, and her hands were shaking. It was like trying to run a marathon after months of sitting still—her whole body burned with the effort. The post held, though. The fence rattled and shook, but the gate did not swing open.

  Caleb whooped in triumph…but they still had to deal with the Burnouts that had already been in the yard. The things were closing fast, stumbling over the bodies of the ones he had already taken down in a clumsy shamble. Several of them crashed to the ground only to keep crawling forward as they were trampled by the ones behind them. The writhing, grasping, clawing knot of the things raced towards them. Lydia shook her head, trying to clear away the dizziness as she raised her rifle and took shaky aim.

  Her first s
hot went wide, only winging a frothing Burnout. The thing stumbled backward, falling against two others before righting itself and stalking forward again. Lydia clenched her teeth and tried to steady her hands, to ignore the throbbing pain in the back of her head and the way every nerve in her body felt like it was being scraped over hot coals. Her second shot went exactly where she wanted it to, and the Burnout collapsed to the ground.

  “You all right?” Caleb called over the sound.

  “Fine,” Lydia snapped, and willed it to be true. Backlash would have to wait.

  They stood shoulder to shoulder, firing shot after shot, and Lydia lost track of the screams and shots from the house. She could only pray that they were being drowned out, and had not stopped. Her shoulder ached from the rifle’s recoil—larger than she was comfortable with—and her head still throbbed in time with her pulse. And the Burnouts just.

  Kept.

  Coming.

  One after another, falling over the corpses she and Caleb had already dropped, only to scramble and scuttle over them. They lurched towards, their strange eyes glowing in the darkness. Lydia let her whole focus narrow to the repetitive action of aim, fire, aim, fire, aim, fire, each second seeming to stretch into hours and hours.

  “Get back!” Caleb shouted. Lydia jerked as his hand landed on her shoulder, sending another shot too wide to do any good. She quickly realized what he meant—the Burnouts were funneling in too close, trying to surround them. She groaned and backed up, moving shoulder to shoulder with Caleb as they tried to put the fence behind them.

  She looked around as they backed up, trying to get a count of how many Burnouts were left. It seemed they had already dropped a hundred of the things—though she knew it couldn’t have been more than twelve or fifteen. Beside her, Caleb cursed as his ammunition ran out and the slide locked up. Without missing a beat, he dropped the rifle to the ground and yanked Andrew Royce’s pistol out of his pocket. Lydia moved faster, swinging her own rifle from target to target, smooth and steady just like Grandpa had taught her. She dropped another Burnout—a female that started to look familiar before Lydia forced the realization away. Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look, she chanted to herself. Don’t look, don’t see…nothing mattered but clearing the way to get to Grandpa and Ava.