Jon opened his eyes, the world around him still a blur. He blinked several times, trying to focus. Darkness shrouded his surroundings with only hints of light. Moving his hands around, he felt the softness of a bed as opposed to asphalt. He grunted as he tried to sit up, his body aching, and he coughed.
“He’s waking up,” a male voice said.
Jon followed the voice and saw the double image of a man coming toward him.
“I’m so glad you’re awake,” the man said. “We were worried you—”
Jon grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down to his level. “Where am I?”
“What?”
Using what strength he had, Jon wrapped his hand around the man’s throat. He squeezed tight enough to make it difficult for the man to breathe, and he pulled him closer.
“I said, where the fuck am I?”
“Whoa,“ a woman said, entering the room.
She pulled the man away from Jon, who felt the energy coming out of his arms anyway. His head hit the pillow and he breathed heavily as the adrenaline wore off and the pain continued in his body.
“What the hell was that?” the man asked, holding his throat.
“He just woke up, Dennis,” the woman said. “It’s okay. He’s probably just shocked.”
The fog fading from his world, Jon recognized the female voice. He looked over and saw Brooke. She stood next to a candle that illuminated her face. Jon bit his lip and shook his head.
“I told you to leave me the fuck alone,” Jon said.
“You must be really out of it, pal,” Dennis said. “She saved your goddamn life.”
Jon’s brow furrowed as he looked at her. Brooke crossed her arms.
“Dennis, give us a minute.”
“Are you sure?” Dennis pointed at Jon. “He just—”
“Now.”
Massaging his neck, Dennis shook his head. Then he exited the room, mumbling something under his breath.
“He’ll be okay,” Brooke said. “He just—”
“Where am I?”
“Hope’s Dawn. It’s what we call our camp.”
“What happened? How did I get here?”
“You don’t remember anything?”
Jon thought back, trying to piece together what had happened. He shook his head, a pain shooting into his neck in response.
“All I remember is laying my bike down. The sounds of deads nearby. Then I was out.”
“You’re lucky we found you when we did,” Brooke said. “Those things would have torn you up and you never would’ve known it.”
“You saved me?”
Brooke nodded. “Not just me. You’ll meet the others later. But yeah, we were out hunting and scavenging, and heard a crash and a scream. We got there just in time. A group of five zombies was approaching your body when we got their attention and took them down.
“I honestly thought you were dead, but you were breathing. Out cold, but breathing. We found you only about a mile from here, so I sent one of the other back here to get the truck. We loaded you up along with your bike and brought you back here. That was yesterday. You’ve been asleep for close to fourteen hours.” She smiled. “So, welcome back to the world.”
“Where’s my bike?” Jon asked.
Brooke crossed her arms and scoffed. “You know, a ‘thank you’ would be nice.”
“Where’s my goddamn bike?”
Brooke exhaled. “It’s in a garage a few buildings over.”
Jon pushed himself halfway up and grunted, pain shooting into his back and ribs. Brooke came over to him and gestured him to stop, but he ignored her. His arms and ribs screamed at him, but he managed to sit up and toss his legs over the side of the bed.
“Thank you,” Jon said. “For helping me and getting me to safety. Now, can you take me to my bike?”
“You really need to let Dennis come back and look at you. He’s not a doctor, but he was an EMT. He can—”
“Please, take me to my motorcycle,” Jon requested again, slightly raising his voice in irritation.
Brooke thought about it for a moment, swiping her bangs out of her face before nodding. “At least let me help you up.”
Sitting next to Jon on the bed, Brooke helped him raise his arm to put it around her. Then, together, they stood. Jon nearly fell back and took Brooke with him, but he managed to stay on his feet.
Jon struggled to take the first several steps. The stiffness in his legs wanted to bring him down, and his ribs ached with each breath he took. But he gritted his teeth and stayed up, moving out the door of the building they were in.
Dennis leaned against the wall outside, but shot up straight when the two walked out. “What are you doing? You need to be resting.”
“Is anything broken on me?” Jon asked the former EMT.
“You could have a cracked rib, but I don’t think so. That’s really all I could find. But it’s hard to know if you possibly have a concussion, which is a whole other concern. You have to understand, though, I’m only—”
“Thanks for looking over me, Dennis. I really do appreciate it.”
Dennis gave Brooke a dazed look.
“It’s fine,” Brooke said. “He just wants to go see his bike. I’ve got him.”
Shaking his head, Dennis went back into the building where Jon had been resting. Jon finally looked around after he did, seeing the settlement of Hope’s Dawn for the first time.
The settlement had been established in a residential area off of a country road. The houses had a little more space between them than a suburban neighborhood outside of an urban city. The homes that remained were in decent shape, but the settlers had built other structures, as well. Several tents were setup in a couple of the yards. And, looking beyond the homes, Jon saw a fence surrounding the entire area.
About a dozen people had made their way outside to watch Jon as he and Brooke made their way to his bike.
“How many people are here?” Jon asked.
“Around forty in total.”
A lot of mouths to feed, Jon thought.
“Here we are,” Brooke said.
They rounded the side of a small metal shed that had been built from scraps. Inside sat Jon’s bike and a man kneeling next to it.
“Get the fuck away from my bike.”
The scrawny guy startled, standing up straight and raising his hands. One had a socket wrench in it.
“Whoa, man,” the guy said. “Chill. I was just taking a look at it for you.”
“It’s okay,” Brooke said to Jon. “Mouse here is a good mechanic.” She looked at Mouse. “It’s cool. He just woke up from a long sleep.”
The walk from the building over to the makeshift garage had loosened Jon’s legs and, even though his body still ached and likely would for days, he was already feeling better.
Sitting on a table near his bike were Jon’s things. His jacket lay over a chair, and his weapons sat on top of a table next to several of Mouse’s tools.
“You tried starting it?” Jon asked.
“Oh yeah,” Mouse said. “It started just fine. Most of the damage seems to be cosmetic. From what I heard about your accident, I’m surprised.”
Jon went to the table and grabbed his things. He put them onto his bike and then put his jacket on.
“You got the keys?” Jon asked Mouse.
Mouse reached into his pocket and tossed them over.
Jon started the bike, revving it up. Even though it had been less than a day, it seemed like it had been an eternity since he’d ridden. After that accident, he felt thankful he’d ever get to ride again.
Letting the engine idle, Jon glanced at Brooke. “I appreciate what you did for me.”
“You’re leaving?”
Jon nodded.
“You can’t,” Brooke said. “You need to rest more. And I was really hoping you would—”
“I don’t belong here. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but it’s time for me to leave.”
Brooke bit h
er lip. She stared at the ground and shook her head.
Jon walked the bike out of the shed. More people had come outside, and they gawked at him. One of them was Terrence, the man he’d saved from the guys in the woods. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and he had purple bruises on his face and arms.
“You said before that you felt like you owed me,” Jon said to Brooke. He revved the bike again. “Consider us even.”
“Do you even know how to get home?”
“I’ll find my way.”
Brooke looked up at him for a moment before turning around and marching away. Jon watched her, wondering if he should say something more.
Just go, Jon.
He took a brief look around at the people staring at him before giving the bike some gas and racing out of the settlement, right through the open gate.
10
Jon cruised down the road more cautiously than he ever had. Until the previous day, he’d never had an accident on the bike. Maybe it had been good fortune, but Jon wasn’t usually one to believe in luck. Luck was bullshit.
But even if he was going at a slower speed and remaining more aware of his surroundings, Jon was back on the cruiser. And that in itself might have been a miracle. Jon couldn’t help but believe that luck had been on his side, as much as he hated to admit it. A wreck like the one he’d had should have broken bones and damaged his bike, maybe even totaled it. But neither of those things had happened. Still, he shouldn’t be riding now. He should already have been zombie food. But Brooke and others from her camp had just so happened to be out there. Had that been luck, or even fate? Also bullshit.
Jon gritted his teeth and shook off the thoughts. He fed the bike some gas and sped down the road faster, gaining his confidence back or finding a way to ignore his ill feelings. Riding faster did little for either.
The faces of the people at Hope’s Dawn crept into his mind. Seeing that many other people in one place had been strange, and reminded Jon of how much the world had turned to shit. The people had looked desperate. They’d stared at Jon like he was a ghost, but also some kind of savior.
Most of all, he saw Brooke. He didn’t know her at all, but he knew Brooke was a fighter. That much was obvious. She wasn’t going to give up easily, and Jon doubted he’d seen the last of her.
Jon slowed and turned onto the dirt path leading to his cabin a quarter of a mile away. When he throttled to accelerate, though, the bike didn’t respond. He felt the motorcycle die underneath him as if its injuries from the accident were finally catching up to it.
“Fuck. Come on.”
But the bike came to a halt, the engine shutting off.
Engaging the kickstand, Jon hopped off the bike. He knew exactly what the problem was. He’d gone through a couple of ignition coils with the cruiser, and it was showing the symptoms of another one having gone out. Luckily, he was pretty sure he had an extra coil back at the cabin amongst the spare parts he’d scavenged.
Jon sighed. His body would hurt for days, and all he wanted to do was lie down in his own bed. Now, that bed was a quarter of a mile away and he had a dead bike he had to walk back. But Jon wasn’t one to sulk over things he couldn’t control. So, he disengaged the kickstand and started his walk home, holding the bike by the handlebars and pushing it along.
When he made it to the foot of the driveway, Jon stared up the hill leading to his home. The quarter-mile walk had drained his stamina, and pushing the bike up the hill daunted him. With the pain in his ribs, back, and legs, just walking up the slope would be difficult.
He laid the bike down on its side in the grass and removed his weapons and gear, putting them on his back. Then he gathered some leafy branches which had fallen from the surrounding trees and did his best to hide the bike. It looked like shit when he was done, but he knew it wouldn’t be down long. He just had to get up to the cabin and find that damn ignition coil.
Jon trudged up the hill, thankful for the gravel path after all the rain that had fallen. It made the hike up simpler than it would have been on concrete or in the mud.
At the top of the driveway, he turned left and stopped in front of the porch. He dropped his gear at the bottom of the steps then headed around the side of the cabin to his shed. He pulled out his keys and unlocked it, opening the door.
He’d built the shed after the world had gone to shit. He’d made it large enough to hold his motorcycle and also store anything else he needed it to, including spare parts he found while scavenging out in the wild.
“Please have a coil in here.”
Jon grabbed the flashlight off of the wall and clicked it on, focusing on the area in the shed where he kept spare parts. It hurt to kneel down, so he ended up dropping to one knee as he shuffled through the box. He dug to the bottom and cursed under his breath.
No ignition coil.
Pushing himself up to his feet, Jon turned off the flashlight and returned it to its holder on the wall. Then he shut the shed, locking it behind him, and walked back around to the front of the cabin.
Leaving his gear sitting at the bottom of the stairs, Jon pulled himself up onto the porch. He unlocked the front door and headed inside.
Jon made his way into the bedroom and opened up his storage chest. Near the top was a bottle of aspirin. Before, he would have kept such a thing inside a kitchen cabinet. But pain relievers had become like gold in this new world, too valuable not to leave locked up near his bedside.
He sat down on the bed and popped two of the pills into his mouth. Without water, he swallowed them. As the pills slid down his dry throat, Jon looked into the chest again and saw the picture of him, Carrie, and Spencer sitting inside the open cigar box. He reached in and took hold of it, resting his elbows on his knees and staring at the photograph. Jon smiled.
“You always knew I was stubborn,” he said to the Carrie in the photo. “I’m sure you’re not surprised I had my accident. Hell, I’m sure you were looking over me. Not ready for me to come see you yet, are you?” Jon laughed. “Who’s stubborn now?”
He set the photo back in the box and started to lie back on the bed before stopping himself.
You need the rest. Lay down.
But he couldn’t bring himself to do it, especially with his bike lying at the bottom of the hill. Jon had put too much work into the bike, fixing it up and taking care of it, for someone to steal it. People didn’t come down his country road often, but it wasn’t worth the risk.
Jon looked at the photo again, lying in the still open cigar box.
“Maybe I am too stubborn for my own good.”
11
Jon limped out onto the front porch and walked down the stairs to where he’d left his gear. With his injuries and having to travel without his bike, he couldn’t afford the risk of only carrying a bat or a hatchet with him on this trip. He picked up his gear and dragged it back inside before heading back to his bedroom and opening the chest.
Inside, he had a shotgun, a rifle, and a .22 pistol. When the world had gone to shit, guns and ammunition had become two of the most sacred and sought-after possessions. These were the only guns he owned, but he felt confident they sufficed in the rural and densely populated Tennessee countryside.
Wanting to travel light, Jon grabbed the handgun. Assuring himself it was loaded, he inserted it into the holster on his waist. On the other hip, he already had his knife, and he would also take his bat with him for good measure.
Geared up, Jon headed outside.
Stepping down the porch stairs, he looked into the sky. He estimated he had around three hours of daylight left—plenty to get where he was going and make it back.
A mile from the cabin was what was essentially a scrapyard. The family who’d lived there in the old world had hoarded a bunch of vehicles, the land behind their house being a metal graveyard. Jon had visited there a few times. It had been where he’d gotten most of his spare parts in the shed. The last time he’d gone there, the place had been overrun with zombies, and he hadn’t taken th
e risk to go back since. But now he needed to. And from what he knew of the dead herds, they didn’t stay in one place for too long, especially if there wasn’t food. His first time there, Jon had checked the inside of the house and found it empty, at least of people. Trash and junk lay everywhere, confirming to Jon that the people who’d lived there had indeed been hoarders. Still, no one occupied the place any longer. So, now, he had to think the zombies had moved on.
Either way, he had little choice. It was the best place he knew to go and try to find an ignition coil for his bike unless he found one along the way, but he didn’t see himself being that lucky.
He wasn’t that lucky.
On his way to the junk house, he’d spotted one motorcycle off the side of the road, but it had already been stripped of anything worth a damn. The sight had made Jon thankful that the house he was going to was off the beaten path because it was more likely that no one had been there to raid it since he’d last visited. Anyone who knew about the place likely would have done so by now, but he was confident no one would have come across it by accident.
He reached the house with plenty of daylight left. As he approached, he stayed low in the tall grass, careful to make sure no one was there. On the way there, he hadn’t seen any people or zombies, but he wanted to remain cautious. He scanned the area and saw no signs that the house was occupied or that anyone was on the property. The place appeared void of any deads, as well.
Confident that the area was clear, Jon stood tall and approached the house. He found the same gap in the chain-link fence that he’d crawled through before to get onto the property and went through it. He stayed cautious, but still saw no signs of people or deads.
Most of the vehicles were in the large yard behind the dilapidated house, but Jon scanned the front for bikes. When he saw none, he made his way around the side of the house to the backyard.
The grass nearly reached his waist, and Jon looked down as he walked while also trying to be aware of his surroundings. He didn’t want to get bit by a snake, but the grass was tall enough that even a zombie could be lying in it. He also wanted to be careful in case he’d been wrong about someone moving onto the property. They could have set bear traps or something out, and he’d rather run into a mob of zombies than step into one of those.
Dead South Series (Book 1): Dead South Page 4
