A New World: Untold Stories by John O'Brien Page B

instead sees a ferocious intent. There’s an intelligence to it, but it’s unlike anything he’s ever seen. Feral comes to mind as he continues pushing to keep the man away. He feels the strength of his arms failing. Teeth sink into his cheek.
    Oh god no.
    Suddenly, the weight is lifted from him. Standing above him is Mark with one arm wrapped around the attacker’s throat. The man struggles violently in an attempt to break the hold. Sam weakly strives to gain his feet, nausea and fear mixing. The attacker pushes and pulls against Mark’s arm, managing to gain a little leverage and sinks his teeth into the exposed skin.
    “Son of a fucking bitch,” Mark yells, letting go of the man.
    Sam feels dizzy as he stands on wobbly legs, but his mind quickly clears. Expecting to be hit again from their attackers, he looks quickly about. His frantic scan shows bodies on the ground and the one remaining figure lunging at Mark. Sam reacts and grabs the assailant from behind, not really knowing what he’s doing but wanting to help.
    Sam’s action interrupts the man’s attack, allowing Mark to get in a swing. Sam stumbles as the force of the punch knocks both of them backward and he has to let go in order to regain his balance. Mark slams another punch into the attacker, knocking him to the ground. He then picks up the branch James had dropped and begins hitting the man repeatedly. Sam watches in horror as blood sprays outward from the man’s face. Mark, panting, releases the branch.
    “Are you okay?” Mark asks.
    “Yeah…yeah. I think so,” Sam answers. “Where’s Meg?”
    Sam feels a hand on his shoulder. With a start, he spins quickly to find Meg. “I’m right here.”
    “What about James?” Sam asks, looking at the pile of bodies intertwined with each other. “Oh, fuck! Is everyone down?”
    “There’s more coming!” Meg shouts nervously.
    Sam turns and sees several figures running along the main avenue, more than they’ve seen so far.
    “We have to get out of here,” Mark states, grabbing Sam and Meg each by an arm.
    “What about the others?” Sam asks, reluctantly being pulled along the street.
    “They’re gone, or going to be. We can’t stand up to that many if they’re like the others,” Mark says with a frantic edge to his voice.
    Meg runs along the street with Mark. Sam understands the situation. Well, perhaps not understanding it, but he is aware of the danger. However, he shakes free from Mark and looks at the ruin around him. Several of the bodies moan, but he’s not sure if it’s coming from his friends or from the ones that attacked them. Under the glare of the lights, he sees puddles of blood and several streams of the liquid trickling toward the gutter.
    He’s at a loss as what to do. Part of him says help his friends…carry them to safety. A larger part is filled with the flee portion of the fight or flee response. With adrenaline coursing through him, he feels his rapidly beating heart and hears his panting breath above the screaming runners that are quickly approaching.
    “Come on, Sam, hurry,” Meg shouts.
    That shakes him loose from staring at the destruction at his feet. With a last glance, seeing James lying amidst the bodies with blood streaks across his face, he runs after Mark and Meg.
    “My house. We’ll lock the doors,” he shouts, catching up with them.
    It’s a short run back to the house at the end of the cul-de-sac. The shrieks intensify with their flight, echoing off the sides of the houses and seeming to fill the entire neighborhood. With their adrenaline-fueled run, the ones behind still manage to close the distance. Sam feels tunnel vision swoop down.
    He sees his house ahead with light shining from the open windows, hears their feet slapping on the pavement, and the sound of those chasing them. They break into an all-out run. Panic fills him. His house doesn’t seem to be drawing any closer yet he hears those behind rapidly gaining. The three of them put on