“I slept like a goddamn baby.”
Jon put his hands on his hips. “Wish I could say the same.”
“You had a long day yesterday. I’m not sure how much I would have slept, either.”
Hector approached with a couple of pieces of clothing folded in his hand. One of them was a plaid shirt, and the other was something leather. He handed them over to Enzo, who thanked him. Enzo studied the garments for a moment before offering them to Jon.
“What’s this?”
“I felt bad that we had to tear your shirt,” Enzo said. “So, we found one that should fit.”
Jon took the clothes, placing his hand on top of the gray and black plaid shirt sitting on top. “Thanks.”
He pulled the shirt away and saw the leather vest sitting underneath. Jon ran his hand over it, and even though it was folded over, he could make out the Los Muertos patch on the back of it.
“Ride with us to Georgia, Jon. Join Los Muertos.”
Jon tossed the plaid shirt over his shoulder and held the vest up. It appeared to be a perfect fit. The Los Muertos sugar-skull patch covered the back. He turned it around to the front and saw only one patch on the front. It read: Prospect.
“We weren’t able to make you a name patch yet,” Enzo said. “But we’ll work on that.”
Jon stared at the new beginning in his hand. This could be the way for him to start over, to begin a new life in this abandoned world. Clutching the vest in both his hands, he bit his lip. Then, he exhaled and offered the vest back to Enzo.
“I truly appreciate the offer, and will be forever grateful for what Los Muertos did for me, but I have to decline. The truth is, I have some unfinished business around here.”
Enzo stared at the vest with genuine surprise on his face. He cleared his throat as he accepted it.
“I understand, amigo. You’ve got to do what’s best for you. But I want you to know that the offer will remain on the table if you decide you want to ride with us.”
“I appreciate that.”
The two men shook hands and hugged, and Jon shook Hector’s hand, as well.
As Jon put on his new shirt, the biker gang packed up. Within a short time, they were on their bikes and in the couple of vehicles they had. Jon listened to the glorious sound of over a dozen bikes roaring to life. He didn’t bother covering his ears as the riders revved the engines.
He watched the caravan begin to pull away, but Enzo came to a stop next to him. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a key and dangled it in front of Jon. It was the key to Jon’s bike.
“Your gun, bat, and little ax are hanging on the side of your bike.”
Jon took the key. “Thanks.”
“You might want to get out of here soon,” Enzo said. “All this fucking noise is sure to bring some zombies around.”
“You got it.”
The biker then nodded, revving the bike up a few times before he raced off to catch up with his gang.
Jon gripped the key tight in his palm as Los Muertos disappeared into the horizon, leaving him alone once again.
10
No one had come in to see Brooke since the leader. Needless to say, she’d had plenty of time to reflect on her conversation with him.
She wanted to know what his obsession with Jon was. Brooke understood that Jon had played a key role in taking down the Vultures, but it hadn’t only been him. All of Hope’s Dawn had been involved. And, of course, they had exacted their revenge on the camp by burning it down. But what was it about Jon that meant they were so obsessed with him as to be keeping her and her friends as prisoners in order to find him?
It had taken all of Brooke’s strength not to break down. She was hungry, thirsty, exhausted, in pain, and, most of all, concerned for her son. But she was determined to make sure her captors knew that they could not intimidate her.
Her head bowed with her chin on her chest, Brooke could hardly keep her eyes open, and she felt herself about to drift off again from the pure exhaustion when she heard something outside. Footsteps were approaching again.
She picked her head up and sat up straight. Running her forearm across her face, she wiped her eyes of excess sadness and sleep. The footsteps stopped in front of the door, and after a moment, it clicked and then opened.
The absence of light made her unable to see, but it sounded like multiple people had come to visit her this time. She heard something dragging across the ground, and it landed in the middle of the floor with an audible thump. As someone walked to the window, she heard a grunt come from where the thing had landed in the middle of the room.
What the hell?
The curtains opened, bringing light in. Brooke covered her eyes as she saw splotches in her vision, the chains restraining her rattling as she pulled on them.
When her eyes finally adjusted, she moved her hands away. She saw Bennett and Bryce standing there, a body lying on the floor between them. The man lay on his stomach, his palms on the ground. He looked like he was asleep or even dead, but then Brooke saw his hands move slightly, and he emitted a pained cry. Bennett, the burly man, kneeled down and grabbed the back of the broken man’s shirt.
“Get to where she can see you, you lazy bastard.”
Bennett pulled up on the shirt and then used his other hand to grab the injured man’s shoulder. The man cried out again as he was peeled off the concrete floor and brought to his knees. Brooke gasped as she saw his face.
“Terrence?”
He could barely hold himself up. In fact, Bennett had to keep a grip on the back of Terrence’s shirt to keep him from slumping over and falling face-first onto the floor again. Even with minimal light, Brooke could see the damage from what they’d done to him. Both his eyes were swollen, the left one looking like someone had shoved a golf ball under his cheek. His nose curved to Brooke’s left and appeared larger than it had before. The purple bruises were apparent even on his brown skin, and bloodstains surrounded his mouth, with several cuts on his lips.
They had nearly beaten her best friend to death.
Brooke glanced back and forth between the two standing men. “What the hell have you done to him?”
“Nothing compared to what’s going to happen if you don’t tell us what we want to know,” Bennett said.
“I told you, I don’t know anything.”
“Maybe you should tell him that.” Bryce pointed at Terrence.
“Now, tell us where the man is that we’re looking for,” Bennett said.
Brooke wanted to tell them about the prison raid, Freedom Ridge be damned. There was no guarantee they’d know about that camp’s involvement anyway. Maybe Raylon and the others had already gone back and made another sweep of the place and wouldn’t be seen. But even looking at Terrence’s broken face, she couldn’t bring herself to give these animals any sort of information.
A wheeze came from Terrence’s mouth, and he said something well under his breath. Brooke leaned forward, trying to make out what he’d said.
“You shut your mouth,” Bennett said, gripping Terrence’s shirt tighter. “You had your chance to talk.”
Terrence drew in another labored breath. His right eye opened just enough to where Brooke could see it. The little bit she could see was bloodshot.
“D-don’t tell them shit,” he said, just loudly enough for her to hear him, though it sounded like he used every bit of energy he’d had left to utter the words.
Without hesitating, Bennett let Terrence go. He fell forward, barely getting his hands up to catch his head from slamming into the concrete. He’d still fallen hard, letting out a painful groan as he hit the ground. Bennett stepped around to the side of Terrence and kicked him in the ribs. “Get the fuck up!”
He kicked him again.
“Stop it!” Brooke protested.
Bennett smiled as Terrence coughed, clutching his stomach. “Are you going to finally tell us the fucking truth, then?”
Brooke glanced at Terrence. He managed to lift his head up, his
one good eye staring at her. As much as he could, he shook his head. She wanted nothing more than to tell them the truth. But she also knew that, if she’d been in Terrence’s position and he in hers, she’d have wanted him to hold strong. Besides, there was no guarantee these men wouldn’t continue to torture both of them even if she did tell them about Jon.
Brooke frowned in anger and looked off to her left, removing any hint of sadness from her face. She crossed her arms, hinting that she wasn’t going to talk.
Bennett laughed. “You stupid bitch. You have no idea just how dumb you are.”
He kicked Terrence in the ribs twice more. Terrence coughed, writhing in pain, as Bryce marched across the room and shut the blinds again. Then, they dragged Terrence out the door as he let out more pained groans. They slammed the door shut, locking it and leaving Brooke alone in the dark again.
Brooke listened as Bennett cursed down the hallway on his way out of the area. She sniffled, but she wouldn’t allow herself to cry.
11
Jon rode down the open road, a cool breeze blowing through his hair. It was good to be on his bike again.
With the increasing chill in the air, Jon knew it would soon be more challenging to ride when the weather fully turned. He wondered if he’d regret not going with Enzo and the rest of Los Muertos down to Georgia. The offer had been tempting and would have allowed Jon a fresh start. But he couldn’t turn his back on his home in East Tennessee, or on Hope’s Dawn. Most of all, he couldn’t leave Brooke.
He thought of all the times she’d shut down his tough-guy talk. Jon had done some bad things since the world had ended, but so had everyone else, as Brooke had reminded him. The thing he struggled with most, though, was all the people from Hope’s Dawn who’d died after he’d arrived there. He wasn’t sure he would ever get over the guilt he felt about the innocent people who’d died in the raid on the Vultures. Even though both Brooke and Terrence had reminded Jon that, without that push, the people of Hope’s Dawn would have remained slaves under Judah and his crew.
Jon considered the options for Hope’s Dawn and what would be the best way to move forward. He still held concern for how secure the camp was. While the community was now battle-tested, if another group came around with the sort of resources the Vultures had, Hope’s Dawn could be in trouble. Jon didn’t want the settlement continually living in fear over when the next invaders would come. That’s why he wondered if the best thing to do might be for Hope’s Dawn to try to merge with Freedom Ridge.
Their camp had the space to take the people of Hope’s Dawn in—that much, Jon knew. He also knew everyone would pull their weight, helping make the community stronger. But would Lennox be willing to bring nearly three dozen new people into his camp? He’d been hesitant to help Hope’s Dawn at all, worried that it might ruffle the feathers of the Malcolm fellow he’d talked about. But the folks at Hope’s Dawn were good people. Raylon, for sure, knew that, and Jon was convinced he could help persuade Lennox to bring them in if it would be the best thing for Hope’s Dawn.
But before any of that, Jon had to think of the immediate future. As far as his friends were concerned, he was dead. Showing back up at Hope’s Dawn, he was going to be seen as a ghost walking back into the camp.
Ahead, a cluster of vehicles sat disregarded and scattered across the road. Jon slowed up so he could maneuver around them. As he did, he heard something coming from the field to his right.
The bright sun covered the field in orange, giving the same tint to the tall grass. A group of zombies, seven according to Jon’s quick count, ran toward the highway. The creatures were about forty yards away from Jon, posing no immediate threat. But he was reminded of the times he’d spent out in the fields and the woods hunting down the creatures for nothing more than sport. He recalled several of the close calls he’d had, when he’d almost been bitten. Many times, he’d wished he’d been bitten. He could only laugh now, thinking about how disappointed that older version of Jon would’ve been, to discover such a bite would have no effect on him.
A small part of him thought to stop and take down the zombies, but even if he was immune, confronting a group of this size posed too big a risk. Jon had been given yet another chance at life, and he wasn’t going to throw it away on being reckless. He made his way around the collection of vehicles and continued on down the country road.
As he came closer to Hope’s Dawn, Jon grew nervous. He’d thought he had seen Brooke for the last time when she’d closed the door to the kitchen, seemingly locking him inside his eternal tomb. But they would reunite soon. How would she react? Jon wasn’t even sure how he would respond to seeing her again. She’d allowed her emotions to spill out in their final moments together, and Jon wondered how that would change their relationship moving forward. As much as he knew he should move on, he still thought about Carrie all the time. The thought of being romantic with another woman felt wrong, staining his mind with guilt.
But he would just have to address that as it came, he decided. For now, he’d have to deal with Brooke’s initial reaction seeing he hadn’t died inside the prison, and that the zombie bite likely wouldn’t take him, either.
Jon focused back on the road, and as his eyes focused again, he caught a glimpse of something on the horizon. He squinted.
Smoke.
And it was coming from Hope’s Dawn.
12
Jon must’ve been doing eighty miles per hour. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ridden this fast, especially without a helmet, but he didn’t care.
As he got within a mile of Hope’s Dawn, the smoke cloud appeared larger and darker than it had when he’d first seen it. His heart raced, and he tried to tell himself he’d been mistaken—that it wasn’t Hope’s Dawn on fire. But he knew that was bullshit, and the reality sank in as he came within sight of the camp.
Jon pulled up to the entrance, bringing the bike to a complete stop some fifteen yards from where the front gate had once been. Now, the gate lay on the ground just inside of the camp’s perimeter, completely ripped from its hinges. Jon swallowed, unable to find any words. It appeared as if the flames had been extinguished, leaving several of the buildings in ruins. That meant the fires had been out for some time now. Whoever had done this had likely left long ago. So, he twisted the throttle on his bike and rode into the camp without fear that he’d be attacked.
A few feet inside the fence, Jon stopped the bike again. His chest felt like it was caving in as he looked at the destruction before him.
It appeared that every building had some extent of damage. The house he’d lived in with Terrence remained standing with minimal damage, but other places, like Hugo’s, had been burned to the ground. Then, his mind went straight to Brooke.
Her house still remained for the most part. A section of the right side had been destroyed, allowing Jon to see right into the living room, but the rest of the house still stood.
Initiating his kickstand, Jon dismounted the cruiser. His thoughts went in a hundred directions, and he couldn’t form any words on his tongue. He had to go see if she was there first.
As he took his first step, Jon caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye that he hadn’t noticed before. A woman lay on her side, motionless and surrounded by blood. He knew instantly, from the light skin and the curly black hair in a ponytail, that it was Jess. He didn’t need to check whether she was alive. She’d been dead for a while. But his worst fears of what had happened there had been proven true.
Jon moved with purpose, his mind continuing to wander. There was a chance that Brooke hadn’t made it back to Hope’s Dawn before the fires had started. Even so, he knew Lucas had been there. Jon didn’t know how he’d react if he found the young boy’s body amongst the destruction.
Then, he saw another body.
Jon stopped. A man lay several feet in front of him on his stomach. A pool of blood was present under him, stretching from his waist up past his head. His face was turned the other way, m
aking it difficult for Jon to see who it was.
Moving closer to the body, Jon stepped around until he saw the face.
Curtis.
The camp’s butcher had been with Jon and the others at the prison raid. Now, he lay dead in the street. It was apparent he’d been murdered, confirming for Jon what he’d known all along. These fires had been no accident. Someone had attacked Hope’s Dawn. Not only that, but the group who’d been with him at the prison had made it back by the time it had happened.
That meant Brooke had made it back.
He swallowed as he headed for her house again. When he arrived on the front porch, he found the door open, slightly ajar. Jon pushed it all the way open and entered.
The place basically looked the way it always had. Brooke kept a neat and orderly house. But Jon did see some pictures on the floor, along with some of Brooke and Lucas’ clothes. Someone else had been in there. Jon also saw Lucas’ soccer ball on the floor in the living room. He bit his lip, hoping he wasn’t going to find the boy or his mother lying dead in the house.
But after searching the entire home, Jon found no sign of the boy or Brooke. That didn’t mean they were safe, however. They could have been somewhere else in the camp when the attack had happened.
Jon decided to go check Garrett’s house next. He hurried across the camp, discovering two more bodies on the way there. One of them was a young guy named Joey who’d often worked at the camp’s front gate. The other dead person was Beth, who’d helped Dennis out in the hospital. Jon continued over to Garrett’s, keeping an eye out for any other bodies in his wake.
Garrett’s front door had been ripped off its hinges, and the inside of his home had been ransacked far worse than Brooke’s. The couches in his living room lay on their sides, and pictures had been torn off the walls.
“Garrett!” Jon called out, but to no response.
Dead South | Book 3 | Dead Hope Page 4
