by Paul Freeman
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Logan rode from the old train station with a mixture of feelings; on one hand he felt guilty at leaving the other men to ride out into the unknown, possibly to their deaths… or worse. On the other he was relieved to be heading back home, to Colony and to his family who he figured needed him more than Pastor ever would. All of his emotions were tinged with sadness. No matter which direction he rode he’d be leaving behind two good men – friends who’d ridden out of Colony the day before because they wanted to do the right thing and to protect their families. In his eyes they were heroes, men who’d willingly faced down their fear and confronted the ultimate terror; certainly a lot more heroic than he felt riding away from his friends. But Pastor had insisted he go, he’d said Logan was the true leader of the community. Maybe they were just words, and the real reason for sending him away was because Pastor had read the fear in his eyes, seen into his heart and deemed him unworthy.
The spring sunshine warmed the air as the landscape changed from rocky hills to open grassland until he spotted the woods close to home. At the sight of the trees in the distance he spurred his horse on, beside them the corn shimmered like liquid gold stretching out into the distance – They’d built something to be proud of. The closer he got to home the more anxious he was to be there. It had been a long time since he’d spent a night away from Colony and he was not keen on spending another anytime soon. His mind began wandering through the hundred and more tasks he would have once he reached Colony. And the news that Pastor had agreed to allow people back into the church would be greeted with great joy he reckoned. It was a step in the right direction as far as he was concerned – people needed their faith. Maybe one day the onetime-preacher would see his way back to becoming the spiritual leader of his flock once again.
Such thoughts tumbled through his mind as his body suddenly shot up into the air and the horse beneath him went crashing down. He fell hard with the wind knocked out of him as he landed on his back, while the horse screeched in pain. He barely had time to register what had happened before two figures emerged from the stalks of corn and grabbed him with rough hands. He was hauled to his feet, punched in the stomach and side of the head then flung back down onto the ground. Picked up to be punched back down, it didn’t seem fair somehow.
He gulped in a breath and agony flared in his side. He groaned and rolled slowly, his hand reaching down to probe gently his injuries. Two men loomed over him. The first thing he saw were dusty boots. His eyes wandered up their legs as the men stood imposingly over him. He squinted as the sun blinded him.
“What the hell…” he gasped between sharp intakes of breath, each one setting a fire in his busted ribs.
“On your feet,” one of them said, his tone none too gentle.
“I was on my damn feet and you knocked me down,” Logan said defiantly, earning a boot in the stomach for it. He groaned again.
“Ah hell just kill him here,” the second voice said.
“No! Wait, I’m getting up,” Logan’s words tumbled out in a panic. He looked up and saw the ruin of their faces. Both were covered in peeling skin and oozing sores. One of them had one eye half closed and weeping yellow pus down his cheek. Both of them had lost most of their hair.
“Jared said bring in any stragglers,” the first man said.
“Yeah but he doesn’t have to know we found one. It’d be easier just to kill him.”
Beside them the horse lay on its side, making wheezing noises and trying to get back up. Logan could see that wouldn’t be happening again. He saw then where the men had strung a rope across the track. They’d tripped his horse on purpose, the thought saw anger rising swiftly inside him. He knew he needed to stay calm though, to men such as them life was cheap… very cheap.
“Hey c’mon now, guys,” he raised his hands in what he hoped would be interpreted as a peaceful gesture.
“Shut the fuck up!” The angrier of the two men raised a pistol. Logan looked into his eyes and saw no pity there, only barely contained anger.
Logan was scared – really, really shit scared – as he looked into the eyes of a killer. There was no empathy there for a fellow human being, no sense of brotherhood at being survivors of the Fall together. This man, who held Logan’s life in his hand, who could finish him with a squeeze of one finger, was a predator, with the instincts of one. In those eyes, sunk into a scarred and sick face he saw only pain and hate. He supposed the man had reason to hate the world, his deformed body and ruined face a symptom of a cruel world.
The loud bang made him flinch and close his eyes. He waited for the pain and wondered why he was still standing. A second shot and he was pushed off his feet onto his back. A huge weight bore down on his chest, shooting spears of agony through him as his broken ribs burned. He struggled to take in breaths. The pain and weight was so great on his chest he couldn’t figure out where he’d been shot. And so close to Colony too, he thought. Life was just so unfair, with the balance being tipped against him more and more every day.
He was afraid to open his eyes, knowing that the two marauders – for surely they couldn’t be anything else – would finish him off. He pictured Elaine’s face and felt a surge of regret and sadness that he’d not have a chance to say goodbye. They’d made what they could of life and had found some happiness together.
“Logan!” a female voice called urgently, snapping him into alertness. He opened his eyes, only then realizing the weight on his chest was the marauder with the weeping eye. “Logan!” the girl called again and he saw Amy, Jeb’s girl, her dirt-smeared face framed by a clear blue sky behind her.
“What the…” he groaned trying to shove the body off him. Amy knelt down and pulled at the marauder while he pushed and the lifeless form rolled onto the ground, staring up with unseeing eyes. “Amy?”
“Oh Logan,” she said as tears streamed down her face. He noticed then that she had a pistol in her hand.
“Did you shoot these men?”
She nodded sheepishly and then asked with widening eyes, “Where’s my pa? He’s not…”
“No, no, he’s fine. He rode north with Pastor. They’re on a…” He tried to think of how to best describe what they were doing, mission didn’t real seem the right word, “quest… of sorts.”
“A quest? That sounds dumb,” she said.
“Yeah maybe,” he said forcing a smile onto his face. “What’s going on, Amy, why are you out here alone? And who the hell are these men?”
“Monsters,” she said. “Look at them, they’re monsters.”
“They’re not monsters, Amy. They’re just men, sick men who’ve spent too much time in the Dead Zone. They’ve been exposed to too much radiation.” Amy looked at him blankly. “Didn’t your pa tell you about the Dead Zone and how most of the world has been poisoned?”
“Yeah I guess,” she said.
“Men such as these are dying, Amy. Some people think they can raid the Dead Zone for treasures of the past, but you can’t do that. It’s too dangerous.”
“Where does it start and where does it end?”
“There are pockets of the world, Amy, that aren’t the Dead Zone, small pockets, and those we share with the feeders. That’s just how life is since the Fall. Now tell me what in hell is going on?”
A wave of emotion surged through Amy and she began crying. Logan reached out and put his arms around her, ignoring the pain shooting though his ribs. “Deep breaths now, come on, tell me what’s going on.”
“When is my pa coming back? And Pastor?” she asked.
Logan shrugged apologetically. “I don’t know, Amy. I’m sorry.”
She choked back her tears and nodded solemnly. “They attacked Colony yesterday…”
“Attacked Colony? Who attacked Colony?”
She pointed at the men she’d shot. “These, and others, loads of them. They shot folk. Penny made me go to her house with her and she was going to let Bart attack me, but I got away from them when their leader came in and
told Bart to leave. The house was on fire so I took the baby, but the baby died…” Words tumbled out of her one on top of another.
“Whoa, slow down there, you’re not making sense.”
She took a deep breath and began her story again, telling Logan about the events of the previous day. Logan could see how emotionally charged she was as the tale unfolded. He felt as if his legs would give way at any minute, a cold, sick feeling began in the pit of his stomach and slowly flowed outwards. “Bart opened the gates for them?” Amy nodded vigorously. She paused and began crying again when she told him how the baby had been shot by Penny by accident and how she’d made a watery grave for him.
Logan stared straight ahead, his mouth clamped in a tight, grim line. He’d allowed Penny and Bart into Colony. He’d vouched for them and asked Pastor to let them stay. He’d brought the wolf into the chicken house. “What about Elaine? Did you see my wife?” he asked in a trembling voice. Amy shook her head, clearly dealing with some haunting memories. “How many?”
“I don’t know,” Amy answered softly.
“Ten – twenty?”
“More.”
“I’ll need to take a look.”
Amy shook her head vigorously. “No! We can’t go back there. They’ll catch us and they’ll know I killed Penny and the other men.”
He looked carefully at the distraught teenage girl. How old was she? Fifteen? Sixteen? In her own words she’d killed four people and held a dying baby in her arms. He’d seen her kill two of them himself. It was a lot for one so young to handle – hell, it was a lot for anyone to handle. From what she was telling him Colony was overrun. But he needed to see how bad it was for himself. They’d dealt with marauders before, they tended to lose interest quickly and move on. But then, those others hadn’t got past the gate and the armed men on the wall. They didn’t have someone inside to let them in. Even if he took her advice where could they go? There was no where in the world safe once the sun came down. Sure they might get lucky and not see a feeder for days, weeks or even months, but eventually they’d be found. They could search for other places like Colony, he supposed, but would they let them in? Would they have more sense than he had to invite strangers into their sanctuary?
“I need to see how bad the situation is, Amy. I just have to go…” He could have finished with ‘I need to see for myself if my wife is alive or dead’ but he didn’t.
“Okay,” she said, “I’ll come.”
“No way, it’s too dangerous. You wait here ‘til I get back.” She raised a questioning eyebrow at that. She still had the gun in her hand she’d shot the two men lying at their feet with. “Seriously, I’ll not risk your life unnecessarily.”
“What if you don’t come back? I’ll be all alone.” She shivered and looked around anxiously. “I have nowhere to go. Last night I spent in the old farmhouse down by the creek. I shot a feeder and was too scared to move until the sun came up, by then the fire I’d lit was nearly out and I was so frightened. I can’t go back there again.”
Logan nodded in sympathy. “What would you have me do, Amy?”
“We can go after my pa and Pastor. They’ll know what to do. Pastor’ll kill all those men by himself. Those two that attacked you must have horses hidden around here. We can find them and just go.”
“And what about everyone else?”
“You’ll not help them by getting caught and killed.”
Logan rubbed his eyes, the movement sending a fresh wave of agony through his side and chest. “I’m not even sure where your pa went. There’s a forest a couple of days ride to the north I know they were headed for, but after that.” He shrugged his shoulders and winced.
“You’re hurt,” she said as if only just noticing.
“It’s nothin’ a couple of cracked ribs maybe.” His brow furrowed as options tumbled through his mind. “Okay, look, here’s what we’ll do. You see if you can find those horses and gather up whatever those men have on them that’ll be of any use. I’ll try and get as close as I can to Colony without been seen. Who knows, they might have left already.”
“And what if they send out more men looking for these others who didn’t return?” she asked.
Logan gingerly bent down and retrieved a pistol dropped by one of the marauders. His horse was still lying on the ground, its flank rising up and down as it took in deep breaths. “Look away, Amy,” he said as he put the gun to the horse’s head.
“They’re going to hear the gunshots you know. Probably they’re already on their way.” He fired and the horse lay still. He stuffed the gun into his belt and regarded the teenage girl. She was right. Even if they didn’t come looking for their friends they’d be wary and watching out for anyone coming near the town. His best bet would be to wait until dark and sneak up on the walls then, but that brought with it all sorts of other… complications.
As he was contemplating his next move a puff of dirt rose into the air at his feet followed almost instantaneously by a loud crack renting the air. Amy’s eyes widened in concern and she pointed over his shoulder. Four men on horses were riding towards them between the corn and the trees.
“Run!” he said and shoved her towards the trees. He bent down and snatched up his rifle from the dead horse as he leapt over the body of the animal and headed for cover.
Another shot and this time his shoulder stung as if someone had whacked him with a bat. He cried out but kept running. Amy turned and fired two shots towards the men and then grabbed his hand, dragging him into the woods. “I got one!” she cried in elation.
They ran about a hundred yards into the woods and then ducked down behind a fallen tree trunk. “Remind me never to mess with you,” he whispered to her, and meant it.
She smiled and asked,” What do we do now?”
“If we run they’ll follow us and I doubt I can keep the pace up for long.” He reached for his shoulder and his hand came away bloody.
“You’ve been hit!” she whispered urgently.
“I think it just grazed me, but it sure does hurt like a son-of-a-bitch.”
Three men came bundling into the wood, crashing through the trees, shouting and yelling curses and threats. Logan nodded once to Amy and they both opened fire. They kept firing until their guns were empty and none of the marauders were left standing. In truth the men never stood a chance. Cautiously they stood from their hiding place and approached the men, two lay still and wouldn’t move again, a third lay on his back groaning.
Logan knelt down beside him. “Who are you? Where did you come from?”
He was rewarded with a bloody stream of spittle that mostly dribbled down the man’s chin, followed by a choking cough. Logan drew his knife, the man’s eyes opened wide when he saw the blade and tried to drag himself up, he only succeeded in bringing on another coughing fit as blood leaked out of the side of his mouth. “How many of you are there?” The man shook his head his eyes widening even more.
Logan looked up at Amy then. “Go round up their horses.” She hesitated but then nodded her head. He waited for her to pass out of the trees. He’d killed more than one man since the Fall, usually in self-defense – though not always – it shamed him how often in the early days he’d taken a life simply to gain an advantage. Back then it was every man for himself, it still was, he supposed. Reflecting on those early years after the apocalypse he knew how easy it could have been to end up in the same position as those men lying dead and injured in the wood. Had it not been for Colony and Pastor’s faith and trust in him he would surely have become a wandering killer just like those men. There was no law in the world only the law of the jungle and those fittest would be the survivors. That didn’t mean folk couldn’t live by a code and retain at least a portion of their humanity.
However in a harsh world there will always be a time for killing. And a time for dying. He drove his knife through the marauder’s chin and up into his brain.
“Let’s go get your pa,” he said, taking the reins of one of the mounts f
rom Amy. Wracked with guilt at turning his back on Colony and those still alive, including – he hoped – Elaine, his woman. They headed north in search of Pastor and Amy’s pa. Into the darkness of the unknown.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
He led them to the edge of the trees and dismounted. “This the place?” George asked. He gave a single nod of his head and began hauling his gear off the back of his horse.
“What’ll we do with the horses?” Jeb asked.
He remembered the last mount he’d left tethered just inside the trees. When he returned to it, it was just a bloody mess. “Let ’em be. There’s plenty of grass hereabouts, hopefully they’ll be close enough when we need ’em.”
“And if they’re not?” George asked, raising a bushy eyebrow.
Pastor shrugged. “Then we’ll figure something else out.”
Spears of sunlight breaking though the canopy dappled the forest floor, the musky scent of damp earth and the heady aroma of pine hung heavy in the air. Pastor un-shouldered his shotgun and put two cartridges into the barrels. The other men likewise checked their rifles before nodding to each other in silence. He could feel the nervous energy buzzing around the men. He was not used to having others with him when he hunted and the sense of responsibility for other lives far overrode any feeling of security to have men he trusted at his back. Two men had already lost their lives on the expedition; he feared they would not be the last.
He led them in silence through the trees until they came to the spot where he had lain helpless, paralyzed by the vampire’s scratch. The bodies of the wild dogs were still there, although not in a good state, the half-eaten carcasses were little more than bloody fur and bone. Likewise what was left of the horse he’d left there dead only days ago was little more than a dark stain in the earth – a feast for scavengers and carrion birds.
