Debauchery Falls Ch. 11

From somewhere near the back of the house, Brubaker fired. "Contact," he shouted as though it was an afterthought.

Andrea's pulse of fear was growing even bigger. The windows were being broken out and the house was growing more and more surrounded; they were losing ground against the cult. She hadn't thought they would get so overwhelmed this quickly.

Galloway fought to keep the front door held. Eventually she just screamed "Screw it," and fired her rifle straight through the door. Outside she heard a scream. But the door continued to shudder. In fact, they only seemed more desperate to get in. Whoever was on the other side of the door must have had the same idea as Galloway because a second later it splintered more with the return of fire.

Galloway scrambled back.

"They're everywhere," Quinn shouted, no longer keeping track of his targets. He started to fire wildly into the night.

Andrea suddenly realized that they wouldn't be able to hold the house. That feeling seemed to be shared in the worried faces of her team. Their confidence was disappearing.

One of the windows was now completely open. A cultist was crawling inside. His eyes were blazing with crazed fury behind his hood.

Suddenly his body jolted. Galloway fired at him until his body sagged limply, half in the window frame, and half out. Then she re-holstered her pistol and turned back to her own window. She suddenly found herself staring at the gun that was pointing in at her. She swore, grabbed the barrel and rolled. The shot missed her by inches, punching a hole in the far wall.

"Fuckin' hell," she sore, wrestling with the barrel, trying to avoid being caught in front of it.

Andrea turned and leveled her rifle at the window. "Down!" she screamed and fired at the window until her weapon clicked empty. The barrel withdrew, but she had no idea if she'd scored a hit.

She struggled to reload her rifle the way she'd been taught. But between shifting her focus and her reload, men were clambering in through her window now. She felt a hopeless despair washing over her.

The front door broke inward in a shower of splinters. It slammed against the stack of furniture and stopped. But it was being shoved hard and vigorously from the outside over and over again. The furniture rocked wildly.

Then Andrea heard the scariest thing that she could hear all night. It was Halley's voice. "Choke point now!" she shouted. Andrea's blood turned to ice. That shout meant only one thing-- their leader was admitting defeat on the living room. They'd lost the front line.

Everyone scrambled into the hallway, and dove behind the sand bag bunker that Quinn had built. Behind them, more windows were being bashed out and invaded.

Quinn was doing a quick ammo count. Galloway was gulping down air, her back propped against a wall and her rifle leveled at the front door. Halley was shifting her gaze back and forth, trying to decide on a course of action.

After a few exchanged gunshots, Brubaker joined them, hobbling behind the bunker. "The back door is lost," he reported, and lay on his side as he reloaded. "I'm running out of ammo," he shouted over the chaos.

"We all are," Quinn said, loading his last handful of shotgun shells. "Any ideas?"

"We could wait until they get really close to us, shoot them, and grab their ammo," Brubaker suggested.

That was a horrible idea, and Galloway didn't hesitate to tell him so.

Andrea was listening to the exchange with wild eyes. She wasn't dumb-- she understood by the looks on their faces. Galloway looked enraged-- a cornered wild animal. Halley was calm, at peace, but somehow apologetic. Quinn and Brubaker were pumped up, angry, and scared all at once. But all of their expressions meant the same thing-- resignation. They were all resigning themselves. The fight would be over soon... one way or another.

The front door burst open with one final push. They heard a heavy crash as the blockade toppled and feet began to run across wood. This is it.

Quinn raised his shotgun, firing down the choke point and sending the first wave of attackers sprawling. When his gun clicked empty he tossed it down and drew his pistol.

Galloway took over the shooting until her gun ran empty.

The team was vigorously reloading in between shots. Andrea added her own fire to the mix. The world slowed down to a crawl for her.

Barbarians running in slow motion. They carried guns. Some carried baseball bats and axes. One had a bat with nails sticking from it. They fell one by one.

Andrea was screaming and crying all at the same time. She glanced over. Galloway and Quinn were holding each other. Quinn gently kissed the top of her head. They were saying goodbye. Brubaker was cursing, looking somber and distant as he counted his remaining bullets. Halley glanced at the diamond ring on her finger for just a brief instant. She took a deep breath, and resumed her own fight. Andrea's rifle clicked empty. That was it. She didn't have any more ammo.

Andrea and Galloway traded a glance, their eyes meeting amid the smoke and the flashes and the flying debris. The woman had been practically a superhero since the second Andrea had met her-- such a bitch but so cool at the same time. She spoke her mind and fought for what she believed in. She embodied what Andrea had wished that she could become some day. And now, here she was, out of answers, ideas, and plans. Galloway just shrugged, and to Andrea's surprise offered a smile. It was an 'awe-shucks' sort of smile. 'Easy come, easy go.'

Andrea found it strangely comforting. She nodded. A silent thank you for showing her what she always wanted to see in herself. Maybe it was okay. This epiphany came at a time when she needed it the most.

Suddenly a loud rumbling began to fill the air-- a steady beat that she assumed was the pounding of her own heart. But it grew and grew until it enveloped the entire house.

Her group noticed the sound too. They glanced around. No, she wasn't just hearing her own heart.

The sound melded into a steady THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP.

The attackers paused and listened as well. They paled. They knew what they were hearing before it dawned on Andrea what the sound was.

An approaching helicopter.

***

The warm summer wind tugged at his hair and his clothing. The breeze was blasting through the open helicopter cabin, threatening to rip Graver out of his seat. The ground wasn't as far below as Graver would have preferred. He could make out the treetops whipping by very quickly. The chopper was following the contour of the mountains.

"Are you excited?" Graver grinned as he spoke into his headset. He was holding his rifle tightly, watching the night passing by.

"Overjoyed to be liable for this million dollar piece of equipment," Morgan said. Her voice was dry. It lacked amusement.

"What about my life?"

"What about it?" Morgan never tore her eyes off of the night in front of her.

"You know, it's okay to act excited once in a while."

"If we crash this bird, you better pray that you don't survive."

"How about just a couple of bullet holes in the hull?" Graver smiled. Morgan was usually surly. He grew to enjoy that quirk.

There was a pause. "Inappropriate music requests at your wedding to piss off your new bride."

Graver laughed loud and hard. He sounded like a maniac over the roar of the rotors. He wasn't entirely jovial. Deep down he was worried. One, he didn't care much for heights. He could tolerate them, but he didn't like them. Two, he had grown up as a video game playing nerd when he was in high school. And in a lot of horror games, rescue helicopters had a short life expectancy. That wasn't even mentioning in what condition he'd discover the town or his friends by the time they arrived. He prayed that he wasn't too late.

The helicopter changed its pitch as they swung to the north. Graver recognized the circular valley of Jasper Falls, although from the air it looked much different.

"Jesus. What the hell have you people been doing out here?" Morgan asked.

Graver leaned forward. Buildings were on fire, the Jernigan Creek was a raging brown snake, a burning crater marked where a building had exploded.

To the northeast, there were multiple muzzle flashes in close proximity-- all of them seemed oriented around a small residence. His team was there, making a last stand-- a house on a hill. Good for them for picking an ideal spot. "Christ, it looks like a small war," he said.

The helicopter tilted again. It passed by quickly. The flashes from the gunfight grew.

Morgan counted the threats.

Graver shouldered the rifle as she descended. Here we go, he thought to himself.

As Morgan slowly circled the house, Graver's rifle clattered ceaselessly into the night.

***

The arrival of the gunship had been a game-changer, and everyone knew it. Even in the most primitive corners of the mind controlled lunatics, they understood what the new priority was. They retreated the house, and focused all of their efforts on the helicopter. But it was a one-sided fight.

They didn't last long, before they were cut down by the rifle fire.

Halley's group blinked stupidly for several moments behind their bunker, listening to the steady chop of the helo, and the resonant pops of Graver's rifle. But his shots were slowing as the ranks of the damned were whittled down to nothing. That was when they realized that it was safe to emerge from their hole, like bunnies leaving the nest after a long winter. No more men were coming to kill them.

They had managed to hold the house.

They gathered at the nearest window as Graver mopped up with a final barrage of gunfire.

"You know, I had always had a little crush on him," Galloway said, gazing out the window.

"I'm sure you did," Halley replied, dismissively, although the relief surging through her gave her expression a sparkle of unwavering mirth.

Galloway couldn't stop herself. "I fucked your future husband, back at the tavern," she blurted out. "And he was good."

Halley didn't miss a beat. "Well I fucked your rookie, and he was good."

"You slut," Galloway laughed. She knew they should all be reeling at this news, but they weren't. They were too genuinely relieved, having grown tight throughout this ordeal.

"You fucked me too, boss," Brubaker added.

"I sure did," Halley admitted.

"What the fuck?" Quinn said, looking from face to face. "Am I the only one who didn't get laid?"

"What am I? A fuckin' ghost?" Andrea chimed in.

"Oh yeah," Quinn allowed a smile to cross his face. "That was fun."

Outside, with the last of the cultists gone, the helicopter made one final pass before settling into the field.

"We'll talk about this later," Halley said, hooking her arm around Brubaker and helping him to his feet. "For now, we've got people we still need to get."

And the five of them hurried outside to meet the helicopter.

***

Their jubilation over surviving the gunfight had faded rapidly. Their mood was grim by the time the helicopter let them off near the church.

Abernathy hadn't lied. They found their missing men. Poe, Lincoln, and Chaney had all been executed. Their bodies found in an awful state, hung up in a display meant to rattle Halley and her team to their core.

It worked, because as three sets of boots and one set of scuffed converse sneakers hit the ground, they were shaking with anger. Galloway, Graver, Quinn, and Halley would be venturing into the lion's den. Brubaker was far too injured to be of any help, and although Andrea was hungry for blood, she was too young to be joining them. The team had reloaded their weapon's from the cache Morgan had brought, conferred, and set off.

The chopper lifted off and resumed a slow circle of the town. The State Police were on their way, but they were still a ways away, and until they could arrive Morgan was the only support.

They took off along the dirt track, four shadows in the darkness. The woods swallowed them up. The path to the church was more ominous than anything they'd imagined or encountered. The fires of burning houses lit the way. The rain had failed to douse them. It was coming down harder than ever, and as they ran, they discovered themselves in surging water up to their shins.

The banks of Jernigan Creek had overflowed, and the waters seemed to be on the rise. They moved more urgently.

By the time they mounted the stairs to the church, it was almost at their knees. They paused outside of the church doors, all of them hesitating. They had no idea how many men Abernathy had left. It couldn't be many... but this smelled of a trap.

Galloway kept her voice low. "Fast breach. Keep low and fan out." The group nodded. Nobody even bothering to tease her over the fact that she was still basically shirtless in just her combat vest. They were all drenched, tired, and keyed up. Nobody cared.

They hit the door hard, expecting some form of resistance. But instead, it gave way to a quiet and almost placid chapel.

They spread out and surveyed the room as they darted among the pews.

"What the fuck..." Quinn breathed.

It was even weirder than Halley remembered. Men and women were seated among the rows. It wasn't a full house, necessarily, but there were at least a dozen people. Some men, but mostly women... attractive women. These weren't Abernathy's army of convicts and lunatics. Halley recognized these faces as her missing civilians. Inhabitants of Jasper Falls. Lizzy Pierson sat among them-- her round porcelain doll face and her enormous tits. A pair of twins from the upscale family with the largest house in town. A tanned busty woman with full luscious dark hair, and an interesting siren tattoo on her chest-- Galloway recognized her as one of the Sheriff's 'deputies'. A middle aged woman with an athletic body. A bleached blonde bimbo-esque cheerleader type. There were others... They were all completely naked. All of them had fixed gazes, staring blankly straight ahead-- indifferent to the four interlopers.

Graver waved his hand in front of their faces. They barely even blinked.

"Clear," Galloway whispered.

Indeed, there were no threats among the naked civilians. But all four of them were uneasy. They moved up the aisles.

"Well where is..." Quinn began, but then Galloway signaled with her hand. She gestured with her weapon and they all saw it.

In the floor, in front of the altar, a hatch stood open on ancient hinges. A steel ladder led down a corrugated tube into blackness below. Some sort of hidden passage, and judging from the way the hatch matched the ancient mildewed floor, it must have been in secret for a very long time.

They all traded an uncomfortable glance. Somewhere down there were Brad and Emily Tanner.

***

Galloway went first, Graver right behind. Quinn brought up the rear.

The ladder was a choke point they were all dreading, but they were out of options. They went one by one, and when they emerged at the bottom, they found themselves in a corrugated room. The roof was low and sloped. Harsh fixtures lit the place like a mine shaft. But this was no mine shaft.

Shelves lined the walls, packed with rations. Canned foods and preservatives. Bottles of water. Crates of sea rations. Stacks of hygiene products, toilet paper, medicines, gasoline, electronics. Every space was utilized.

"It's a bunker," Graver breathed, his voice soft with awe.

They didn't like it. They moved cautiously. Rooms branched off of this one. Tight corridors opened up to cramped shipping container-sized rooms. They found more things. A chemical toilet, and tiny shower. A grow farm. A room with chugging generators and a network of pipes to the surface. A workbench of tools. Folding cots, stashes of propane, and cooking equipment.

A dozen people could be housed down here for years without an issue.

As they came to the final room, water began to fall from the corrugated ceiling in thick drops. It lifted from the floor, and it launched itself from the walls, defying gravity. It all began to pelt the four soldiers. Impossibly, in an underground bunker beneath the church, it started to rain.

***

The final room was an entertainment space. A TV, a massive library of movies, music, and books. Enough to keep a couch potato inebriated for years. It was pleasantly lit... cozy even-- if it wasn't for the rain flying in all directions, dousing them. Soft furniture lined the walls.

A couch dominated the center of the room, and on it, two faces regarded the TV. Zombies in a trance. Emily and Brad Tanner sat side by side on the sofa, holding hands, staring into space. They looked like carefully positioned mannequins.

Galloway peered around attentively. "Clear," she whispered, although their apprehension was apparent. None of them truly believed that.

They stepped into the room, and suddenly the TV lit up, triggered by motion. An image of Abernathy appeared.

Before any of them could stop it, his eyes peered through their soul. "Drop your weapons," he said.

And despite everything they'd been through, their determination, and their efforts to not be caught again... the four of them dropped their weapons to the floor.

They'd stepped into the trap.

***

Graver, Quinn, Halley, and Galloway sat in the front pew of the ancient church, beside Emily and Brad Tanner. They'd filed out of the bunker like zombies and taken their seats in Abernathy's church of debauchery. Abernathy had led them out like the Pied Piper.

Now he stood at the altar, like he was delivering a sermon to the sea of blank-faced naked town's people. And behind him, the towering brute, Wallace-- Abernathy's loyal henchman (and only survivor from his ranks). Not that it mattered now.

"So you saw my dirty secret," Abernathy addressed the four soldiers. His eyes flicked to the hatch in the floor. "I was raised in that hole."

His audience didn't move. They just blinked. He found it boring. He eased up some on his hold of them. The rain continued to pelt their bodies from every angle. They blinked as he allowed them freedom over their thoughts and mouths, but not their bodies. Sudden comprehension swept across their expressions. Galloway and her team looked about themselves, but otherwise, didn't move. They were his followers now.

Abernathy went on. "My grandfather wasn't a good man. He was a paranoid delusional lunatic with fantasies cheating his own mortality. He was convinced the world would end, and he was determined to be the last man who survived. He built that bunker. Then he built this church on top of it, because who would ever suspect what's beneath it. And what construction crew would ever desecrate a church to develop the land on top of it? In an isolated town like this... none."

"Is that why you're so fucked up?" Galloway asked.

His expression softened. "He raised me on movies, as though they weren't fiction. Told me that every movie was actually a historical depiction of true events. Can you imagine that? Thinking 'Jaws' was a true story? Or 'Alien'? Or 'Night of the Living Dead'? It really warps your mind. Especially when you get older and discover... adult movies. Imagining a world where people just throw down and fuck, regardless of where they are or what they're doing."

He smiled to himself. "When my grandfather finally passed away, I saw him in a vision... and when I came-to... I could make it rain." The droplets continued to pelt his four captives. "I could do other things too. As my cell mates soon discovered..."

It was Halley who spoke up. "You can control people's minds, and you use that power to bust out of prison and what... host orgies?"

"Seems like a waste of talent," Quinn chimed in. "If I could bend minds, I wouldn't be in this shit hole. I'd be living in my 'castle at the center of the labyrinth', enjoying all the money that my followers bring me."