He started with his good arm, rubbing it hard to wipe the blood off. There was so much of it. When he was through, he switched to his other arm, avoiding the bite wound. He’d need to clean it soon, but he couldn’t risk infection by using the same sponge he was tackling all the blood with.
When they’d brought him to the room, Jon had made sure he was alone before taking his shirt off. As far as he knew, the people here didn’t know he’d been bitten. He’d expected Brooke or Terrence to tell them, but Raylon hadn’t brought it up when he’d seen him at the gate. Jon figured Raylon would’ve taken more precautions before letting him in if he knew he’d been infected by a zombie. As a courtesy and because he still questioned whether Enzo had been correct in predicting he was immune, Jon planned to tell Raylon and Lennox about the bite when he met with them.
Jon finished cleaning up as best he could and put on the clothes. Raylon had been able to find a pair of jeans in Jon’s size, and even though the shirts were slightly big, they’d do. What mattered was that they’d brought him a long-sleeved shirt, and so Jon could cover up his bite wound for the time being.
Now that he was dressed, he stood and headed for the door, leaving his weapons on the floor. Since they now knew him, they hadn’t confiscated them at the gate this time. He’d take some time to clean them later.
Raylon stood outside the house, waiting for Jon. He smiled as Jon approached.
“That’s more like it,” Raylon said. “Now, I actually recognize you.”
With Jon now clean, the two men shook hands and hugged.
“It’s good to see you,” Raylon said. “We were sure you died in there, and they wouldn’t let us come back to get you.”
“Thanks for listening to them. I was trying to keep everyone safe, but it doesn’t seem like it worked.”
“Lennox is waiting to see us.” Raylon gestured with his head. “You can fill us both in at the same time.”
Soon, Jon and Raylon sat in two of the chairs in Lennox’s study, waiting on him to arrive. Jon heard footsteps behind him and turned.
Lennox walked through the door with his daughter. She smiled when she saw Raylon.
Raylon opened his arms, smiling as he hugged the girl. He kissed her on the cheek and then glanced at Jon. “Sarina, you remember Mr. Jon, right?”
The young girl looked at him and smiled. “Good to see you again, Mr. Jon.”
“Likewise,” Jon said.
Lennox walked around the desk, taking a seat in his leather chair on the other side. He didn’t appear as happy as his daughter, his chocolate eyes locked on Jon.
“Run along now, sweetie,” he said. “The three of us need to have a grown-up talk.”
“I’ll catch up with you later,” Raylon told Sarina, running his hand through her hair.
The young girl left the room, singing a song to herself. Her feet ran across the wooden floors until they pattered out of hearing distance. Lennox clasped his hands together and leaned back.
“I feel like I’m looking at a goddamned ghost,” he finally said.
Jon scoffed. “Not far from it.”
Reaching into one of the drawers, Lennox pulled out a small wooden box. He opened it and retrieved a pipe which was already loaded with fresh buds. Lighting the bowl, he inhaled and took a hit. He held the smoke in his lungs for several moments before exhaling, a cloud filling the air between the men. Lennox then leaned over the desk and offered the pipe to Jon.
“I think you could probably use this.”
While smoking wasn’t typically Jon’s thing, nothing about life was normal anymore. Without thinking about it, he took the pipe. The buds inside the bowl were still lit, and he took a hit. As it reached his lungs, he tried to hold back from coughing, but couldn’t. The other two men laughed as the smoke came rushing out of his mouth.
“That means you got a good hit,” Raylon said, taking the pipe from Jon to enjoy it himself.
“So, what the hell happened to you?” Lennox asked. “How did you get out of that prison? Your friends told us that you were surrounded by infected. It didn’t sound possible for you to survive.”
“I found a way into the pantry and holed up there until some people showed up and got me out. I’ll fill you in on all the details later. My friends are in trouble.”
“That’s what Raylon said. I’m sorry to hear the camp burned down.”
“All that can be rebuilt, or we can find another place to live,” Jon said. “But we can’t replace the people who died. I want to make sure no one else dies because of it.”
“Are you sure there were survivors?” Raylon asked.
“There were several people I didn’t find, including Brooke, Terrence, and Hugo. They’ve got to be out there.”
“How do you know they didn’t burn in the fires?” Lennox asked.
“Look,” Jon said, leaning forward and trying to contain his composure, “I know they’re out there. And if I had to guess, someone who didn’t like what we did to the Vultures had something to do with this. It had to be that Malcolm guy you mentioned to me before.”
Lennox leaned back, crossing his arms. “You’re jumping to assumptions now. How do you know it wasn’t some road raiders or something? One of my scouts told me they saw some Mexican biker gang crawling around this area over the last few days. It could’ve been them.”
“It wasn’t them,” Jon said.
“How do you know?” Raylon asked.
“Because they’re the ones who helped me get out of the prison. They were inside scavenging the place and found me in the kitchen. They could easily have killed me, but they didn’t. Instead, they gave me a place to stay for the night, fed me, and even offered to let me join their gang and head down to Georgia with them.”
“Hold on a second,” Lennox said, taking a hit off the joint his cousin had passed back to him. He pushed the smoke out of his lungs and into the air. “I’m confused about something. If some bikers could clear out that kitchen and get you out of there, why didn’t you wait on Raylon and the rest of the crew to come and help you out? Why’d you let your friends leave you behind? And why were they so adamant that we couldn’t come back to see if you were alive?”
“Brooke and Terrence were absolutely convinced you’d died,” Raylon said. “And Brooke was all torn up about it. But here you are. Something isn’t adding up.”
Jon knew he had to be honest with these men. He couldn’t hide what had happened to him, especially if Enzo had been wrong in his prediction. Without giving a verbal reply, Jon unbuttoned his shirt as he stood. He then slipped it off his shoulder, revealing his short-sleeved shirt underneath. He stuck out his wrapped-up left arm.
“Because I thought this was going to kill me.”
17
Raylon shot up out of the chair next to Jon, backing up a few steps. “What the fuck, man?”
Across the desk, Lennox had a less adverse reaction, but he pushed his chair back a bit. He set the joint down in the ashtray, his eyes big and staring at Jon’s arm.
“What’s under that bandage?” he asked.
Both men knew the answer. The question was only a formality at this point.
“What’s under there is the reason I was going to sacrifice myself in the kitchen to save my friends and didn’t want you all coming back for me. I thought I was going to turn into one of them.”
“Thought you were?” Lennox asked.
“When did you get bit?” Raylon asked, still standing and keeping his distance.
“It happened when I rode into town to look for bottles before we headed to the prison. I fucked up and made a mistake, and this happened.”
“And you didn’t tell us before going into the prison?” Raylon asked.
“I couldn’t. If I had, Brooke would’ve been a mess. She would likely have gotten herself killed in there.”
“And what if you had turned?” Lennox asked. “Things could have been a lot worse.”
“I told Terrence before we went in. He was with m
e the whole time, and if something had started to happen, he would have taken me down.” Jon turned his attention to Raylon. “But this is why they told you not to come back for me. I figured I was dead anyway, and so did they. Honestly, I was ready to die. But as I was in there trying to fight those bastards off of me, I saw an opportunity to run back into the pantry. So, I did, and I locked myself inside.”
“But you’ve still put a lot of people at risk,” Lennox said. “And you’ve done it again by coming back here. Just because you haven’t changed yet doesn’t mean you won’t.”
“Wait, hold up, Lennox,” Raylon said. “We’ve had people get bitten before. Remember Janie? It only took her about an hour to turn into one of those things. Hell, the longest we’ve seen was Rob, and it only took him about six hours.” He looked at Jon. “He’s been good for a couple of days now.”
“I’m not going to change.” Jon wasn’t totally sure of this, but he’d said it with confidence anyway.
Lennox shook his head. “You don’t know that. We’ve never seen anyone get bit and not turn into one of those infected creatures.”
“That doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened,” Jon said. He thought about telling them about the conversation he’d had with Enzo, but it was clear his friends didn’t trust Los Muertos. Besides, Jon didn’t want to waste more time talking about this when Brooke and the others were potentially in danger. “Either way, I’ve been honest and told you the full truth. Now, we need to get past this because my friends—our friends—need help.”
“You’re not even feeling sick?” Raylon asked.
Jon shook his head. “I’ve felt fine since it happened. No headaches, no cold sweats…. I haven’t had any of the symptoms we usually see after people are bit.”
Raylon looked at his cousin again. “What do you think, Lennox?”
Jon studied the man’s face. The joint sat in the ashtray, continuing to emit smoke into the air. Jon could still see the concern in Lennox’s face through the smoke. Lennox leaned back in his chair, glancing over at his cousin.
“What do I think?”
Jon raised his eyebrow as he waited for Lennox’s response. Lennox reached into one of his desk drawers and his hand came out holding a handgun. He held the pistol up, aiming it at Jon.
“What the fuck is this?” Jon asked, raising his hands out of instinct.
“What this is, is a precaution,” Lennox said. “You’ve been bitten, and in my eyes, that only ends one way.”
“Whoa,” Raylon said. “Hold up, Lennox.”
“Shut up, Raylon,” Lennox said.
Jon narrowed his eyes. “What? After all this, you’re gonna shoot me? How the fuck do you know for sure that I’m going to turn?”
“I don’t, and that’s the problem. But I’m not going to let you walk around here and put my people, or my daughter, at risk.”
“Then, do it.” Jon lowered his hands and pointed at his chest. “Go ahead and shoot me. Or, better yet.” He moved his hand up and pointed at his temple. “Shoot me here. That’ll ensure that I’ll die and won’t turn into one of those bastards. Then, you’ll only have to kill me once.”
Lennox tensed up. He aimed the gun at Jon’s head. Jon felt sure this was it; his luck had run out. After everything that had happened, he was going to die at the hands of a scared man who he’d thought was his friend.
Jon glanced over at Raylon. “No matter what happens, find my friends. Find Brooke. Make sure they’re okay.”
“Shut up,” Lennox said. He reached in another drawer and pulled out some handcuffs. He tossed them to Raylon, and then gestured toward Jon. “Put those on him. We’re gonna take him down to the prison and lock him up.”
18
Brooke sat in the fetal position on the floor, shaking. She was determined not to let these assholes break her. But the events of earlier in the day had taken their toll.
She couldn’t get Terrence’s face out of her head. Seeing him that beaten up, his eye swollen all the way shut, had disturbed her. And even though he’d told her not to give them any information, she couldn’t help feeling guilty. For all she knew, Terrence might not even be alive now. Though, she had to think that if they’d planned to kill him, they would have done it in front of her as a message. So, she kept faith he was alive.
But when would it end, and more importantly, how would it end?
The men would be back, and they would likely resort to ever more extreme tactics to get Brooke to tell them the truth. Brooke could have no choice but to reveal the prison and potentially expose Freedom Ridge.
Outside, she heard footsteps approaching again. She pushed herself up off the ground, not wanting to be found curled up on the floor. But the door opened quickly, swinging all the way around and hitting the adjacent wall. Two men hustled over to her, and in the dark, they didn’t appear to be any of the men she’d seen before. They grabbed her under the arms without care.
“Hey, you’re hurting me,” she complained.
Without saying anything, one of the men stuck a sock in her mouth. Her eyes went wide, and then the same man covered her head with a hood. She writhed and tried to talk, but it was futile. They next removed the restraints from her wrists before immediately binding them again with a set of handcuffs. Brooke fought back, trying to get free, but it was of no use. The two men grabbed her under the arms again and carried her out of the room.
She continued to try to break free before one of the men hit her in the back of the head.
“Cut the shit, or I’ll break your goddamned knees and carry you. And believe me, you don’t want me to have to do that.”
Brooke didn’t struggle after that.
The men moved so fast that she could hardly stay on her feet. She didn’t want to know what the men would do to her if she fell, and she still refused to look weak, but Brooke couldn’t deny one thing; for the first time since arriving at this place, she was scared.
She felt a breeze as the men led her outside. It was the first time she’d been outside since she’d been knocked out and taken captive at a ravaged Hope’s Dawn. She couldn’t see to be able to tell what time of day it was, but the chill in the air made her think it was likely evening.
Brooke almost fell a couple of more times, but managed to remain on her feet. She heard a door open, and the men took her inside somewhere. The ground beneath her feet was still solid— concrete from what she could tell, similar to the other room they’d been keeping her in. They went through another door and then stopped.
“Sit down,” one of the men said.
Confused, and still holding onto her pride and not wanting to give in to these animals, Brooke hesitated. Only a moment passed before one of the men put his foot behind one of Brooke’s knees, causing her leg to buckle. She went down, finding a way to control her momentum enough to where her knees didn’t slam against the concrete and break.
She sat down, her back resting against a pole of some sort. She felt the man undo one of the handcuffs and then quickly putting her wrist back into it and locking it. The chain between the cuffs hit the pole as she moved, and she realized she was bound to it now.
The grotesque sock was still stuffed in her mouth, and she found herself having trouble breathing through her nose. Sweat pooled on her brow, and Brooke closed her eyes to calm herself.
Stay strong. You can do this.
Brooke focused on her breathing, trying to bring her heart rate down. The sweat continued to trickle down her face, irritating her. She finally found the inner strength to focus, and had started to calm down when she heard another door open on the other side of the room. Again, it sounded like at least a couple of people were entering.
“There,” a woman said.
Then, Brooke heard chains and the sound of cuffs clicking around the limbs of whoever it was they’d brought into the room. She tried to listen for any hints of who it could be, but all she heard was muffled crying. They had gagged this person, as well, and with all of the other noise coming from ch
ains and people moving around, Brooke couldn’t recognize the sound.
Footsteps approached her, and someone pulled the hood off of her head. Still, she couldn’t see the room because it sat in total darkness. The person also took the sock out of her mouth, and she coughed a few times, gagging. Without saying anything, the person walked away.
“What is this?” Brooke asked. “Tell me where I—“
Other than the chains and the cries of someone else nearby, Brooke could also hear the whirring of some sort of machine. It sounded like a generator. There was a click, and then several bright lights came on. It took her by surprise, temporarily blinding her. But once her eyes adjusted, she was able to see the other side of the room.
Her once calm heartbeat raced as she saw who sat there, and tears dropped from her eyes.
“Lucas?”
19
Brooke stared across the room, almost wondering if her eyes were playing tricks on her. But they weren’t—Lucas was there.
Only Brooke and her son remained in the room. The space was large and empty with a couple of doors leading into it. She wasn’t in a house, but instead the place had perhaps been a business or office before the zombies took over.
Lucas sat on the floor with a sock stuffed in his mouth and a blindfold covering his eyes. His clothes were dirty, and he wore no socks or shoes. Dirt and grime marked his arms and his feet, and it tore her apart to see her son in this condition. They hadn’t had too many chances to bathe at Hope’s Dawn, but Brooke had always made sure her son was clean. Seeing him like this nearly broke her, but she knew he was scared—and while she was, too, she had to conjure up the strength for him.
“It’s me, sweetie. Mommy’s here.”
The boy cried and tried to speak through the sock, but Brooke couldn’t make out what he was saying.
“Listen to me, baby,” Brooke said, “I know you can’t talk, but you can answer basic questions by nodding and shaking your head. But you’ve got to try to stay calm.”
Dead South | Book 3 | Dead Hope Page 6
