An engine roared to life behind him as Sullivan maneuvered the last of the RVs into position along the fence. Most of the RVs were now parked directly behind the other, leaving as little space between them as possible. Sullivan stepped out and closed the door.
“Can you gather the security team for me and meet in the war room? We have some things to talk about.”
“No problem,” said Nash.
The inside of the war room was hotter than normal, the humidity descending upon the Fort with a vengeance. They each took their seat, but left the door zipped open in hopes that it would cool the temperature inside. Nash walked in with Melissa and looked to Sullivan for his approval for her to be there, which he nodded in silent agreement.
“We have a couple serious things to discuss. First, we need to decide what to do with Cole.” The group sat silent. “The way I see it, we have two options. We leave him be and let him roam, or we put him to rest.”
“Can’t we bring him in here? Let him stay with us?” asked Melissa as she tried her hardest to provide an alternative to the two harsh options.
“I thought about that too, and I don’t think it’s a good idea. He’s not in good shape.”
“He’s right,” said Nash, taking her hand into his under the table. “His body is all torn up and we all know that slowpokes don’t eat so they deteriorate quickly. He’d wither away before our eyes.”
“Exactly,” said Sullivan solemnly. “I personally feel he should get a proper funeral, just like Eliza did. Does anyone object to that?” Nobody spoke so the matter was silently decided. “After the meeting is over, I will tend to him and get his grave ready. We’ll have the funeral before nightfall.”
“What do we do about the prisoner?” Scott asked in an effort to change the subject.
“I’ll be taking him off site to interrogate him later tonight. I don’t want him thinking he has an audience so I’ll be taking him to an old shack about a half-mile down the creek. I’ll need a security detail with me to guard the area while I’m out there. Scott, I was hoping you could spearhead that for me.”
“Of course,” he said. “But why at night? Wouldn’t it be safer in the daylight?”
“Barry’s people are using infected arrows as weapons, so doing this at night takes that advantage away from them if they come looking for him. Nash, Scott and Stu, I need you to set up walkways across each RV by sundown. Between the three of you, I’m sure it’s doable. Use whatever materials we have around and make them as sturdy as possible.”
“Will do, chief,” said Stu as he tapped his fingers nervously on the table.
“Dianna,” Sullivan said, “Meghan, are you comfortable letting the group know about our plan for Cole?”
“Of course,” said Dianna, wiping tears off her cheeks.
The group left the war room, each off on their way to the task ahead. Nash watched as Sullivan disappeared into Cole’s RV and reappeared with a small bundle before he left the Fort with a shovel. Sullivan’s shoulders were slumped, the weight of the current situation rested firmly on him as he made his way to bury another one of his friends.
Nash, Stu, and Scott all collected wood and tools from the camp. The first walkway was constructed within a half hour and the rest of them quickly came together as the three of them worked silently. Before they finished Nash ran along the top of each RV and made sure all of the walkways were secure before he climbed down.
“This was a really smart idea,” said Scott as they stood together admiring their handiwork.
“I’m going to check in with Sullivan,” said Nash. “See what else he needs.”
“I’ll join you,” said Stu using his bandana to wipe sweat from his forehead.
Scott made his exit silently, and disappeared to prepare with Meghan for the interrogation later. The situation at hand was weighing heavy on everyone in camp and Nash could see the stress and fear in each resident’s posture.
Thunder rolled in the distance as Nash and Stu exited the Fort and made their way to the gravesite. The ground was wet and slippery, which forced them to move slowly to avoid falling down or twisting their ankles. They reached the clearing where the group had met to bury Eliza the day before, an empty grave now dug beside hers, Sullivan no where to be seen.
“I can’t believe they’re gone,” said Stu. “I feel like things are falling apart.”
“He’ll think of something,” said Nash. “You’ve trusted him this far, he’ll get us through this too.”
“I do trust him, and that’ll never change. We’ve just never dealt with anything like this before.” Silently, Stu surveyed all the graves before them with his arms crossed over his chest. “This burial site is far too crowded for my liking.”
The two of them made their way as quickly as they could to the creek, the sound of thunder nipped at their heels. The dreadlocked slowpoke smiled as they approached the creek banks, their welcome party. Sullivan was crouched down beside Cole’s body. The arrow was gone and Sullivan had dressed him a new shirt. There were strips of bloody cloths collected neatly in a pile while Sullivan silently prepared Cole for burial. Stu placed his hand on Sullivan’s shoulder as the three of them gazed down at their friend.
“Nash,” said Sullivan, pausing for a moment before he continued. “Can you have Dianna get everyone moving to the burial site now? Stu and I will bring Cole.”
Without saying a word, Nash walked back to the Fort. Everyone was gathered quickly and met at the front of the gate, ready to say goodbye to Cole. Just like Eliza’s, not everyone joined in the march, but a great majority of the group attended. Most of those who stayed behind were fearful of leaving the Treefort’s walls.
The sounds of mourning filled the woods as Sullivan and Stu each took an end of the sheet and lowered Cole’s body into the ground.
Sullivan’s jaw was clenched tightly as he attempted to keep his emotions in check. His hands shook slightly so Nash offered to take the shovel but was waved away. Stu placed the last shovelful on top as Sullivan planted the standard cross into the ground at the head of the grave, Cole’s name painted across the front. They all stood in silence, mourning their collective loss.
“Scott, can you be ready to move at sundown?” asked Sullivan, breaking the silence.
“Yes. Meghan and I will both go with you.”
Sullivan nodded once and made his way back to the Fort, Dianna’s hand in his.
The sun set quickly as Nash aimlessly wandered throughout the camp, not quite knowing what to do as the evening descended on them. It was one of the first times since he had gotten there that he truly had nothing to do. The sound of the holding trailer’s door swinging open drew his attention as he watched Sullivan step inside and come back out with Barry in tow. He could hear Barry’s muffled giggling. Barry toppled to the ground, refusing to cooperate as Sullivan led him forward. Without breaking stride, Sullivan scooped him up and slung him over his shoulder. Barry kicked wildly, giggling and coughing as best he could as the people in the Fort watched him be carried away into the night.
“Sully,” Dianna whispered, moving towards him, wringing her hands.
“We’ll be careful,” Sullivan whispered before he kissed her softly on the lips.
Barry locked eyes with Dianna, a sinister smile on his mouth behind the duct tape. There was an eerie promise there that Dianna couldn’t ignore. Fear blossomed anew in her chest as she watched the love of her life leave the Fort, death carried on his shoulders.
Chapter 16
The moon cast an eerie glow through the trees as they moved silently through the dark woods. Sullivan led the way, holding Barry by the arm with a knife trained on him with the other hand. Scott and Meghan followed closed behind, keeping their ears trained against the silent woods. Barry continued to giggle wildly as the dark silhouette of the shack slowly came into view.
“Stay alert,” whispered Sullivan as they came to a stop outside the shack. “If you so much as have a feeling something is not right, let me kno
w.”
“Will do,” said Scott as Sullivan opened the door and disappeared inside with Barry.
Sullivan quickly secured Barry to an old wooden chair before turning and shutting the door. He switched on a lantern and hanging from a hook on the ceiling, illuminating the windowless shack in an eerie glow. Sullivan stood in front of Barry, looking down at the giggling lunatic.
“I need your assurance that if I take off this tape, you’re not going to cause a fuss,” said Sullivan as he sternly looked into Barry’s crazed eyes. “I’m going to take off the tape to talk. If you’re loud, I will put it back on and cause you pain. If I think you’re getting out of control, I’ll kill you.”
He pulled out a long Bowie knife, the cold metal reflecting the lantern’s light. He was surprised when Barry stopped giggling at the sight of the blade and his eyes met Sullivan’s with a touch of fear. He ripped the tape off Barry’s mouth, peeling skin and hair with it as Barry grunted in pain.
“What makes you think I’m going to tell you anything?” Barry hissed. “Do you know what he would do to me if I told you his secrets?”
“I’ve already told you what will happen if you don’t. The choice is yours.”
“I’d rather die by your knife than at His hand as a traitor.”
“Tell me about him,” said Sullivan. Barry’s eyes met his as a grin stretched across his face.
“He’s going to kill you, I can tell you that. As for the rest of your group, as long as they fall in line, they’ll be fine. He has plenty of room for you all at his mansion. You though; no, no, no…you’re a goner!”
“So he lives in a mansion?” asked Sullivan as he tried to extract as much information as he could while he fought the urge to plunge his knife into Barry’s chest.
“You’ll find out soon enough. Well, you won’t. Someone who’ll for sure see the Mansion is that pretty little blonde you’ve got stored back at your campsite. She’ll fit in quite nice.” His eyes twinkled with madness as he spoke. “Pretty girls like her get the royal treatment under his watch!”
“What are these?” asked Sullivan, taking control of the conversation as he pointed to the red strip around his wrist. “Why are we finding so many of the dead wearing them?”
“She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she? What do you think she tastes like?” he asked. “She looks delightfully tasty to me, but you never know. Might not be quite, ripe.”
“Tell me about the strip on your wrist,” said Sullivan, his fingers turning white as they gripped his knife tightly.
“You’ve thought about it, don’t pretend you haven’t. A man your size, you’d probably kill her!” He let out a loud chuckle at the thought. “You’re better suited for that huge bitch you smooched when we left. She definitely won’t see the Mansion. I’ll kill her myself when he comes for you.”
Sullivan lurched forward and buried the blade of his knife into Barry’s left lung. Blood poured from the wound as Barry let out a yelp, but not once did he divert his gaze from Sullivan’s. Sullivan watched the look of madness in his eyes as he smiled through the pain, giggling and coughing harshly as his lung quickly filled with blood. His breath turned into a gargling wheeze as blood dribbled from his mouth. He laughed one time, and uttered one last threat.
“He’s coming to get you…”
Scott opened the door and peered in, already knowing what had happened by the sounds. Sullivan stood over Barry’s lifeless, hunched body, his fingers still wrapped around the handle of the knife.
“He’s gone,” said Sullivan, eyes trained on the now blood soaked torso. “He’s gone, Scott.”
“I know, Sully,” he said as he pulled Sullivan’s hand away from the knife and guided him out of the shack. “It’s okay, we heard it all. You weren’t gonna get anything from him.”
“What do we do with him?” asked Meghan as she looked at Barry’s bloodied body from the door of the shack. Sullivan nudged her away as he reentered, grabbed Barry by his still bound wrists, and dragged him into the dark. Scott and Meghan stood motionless, listening to the sound of Barry being dragged through the leaves followed by a thud as Sullivan released him.
“Fuck him,” he said as he rejoined Scott and Meghan. “He doesn’t get a funeral. He can rot.”
They walked back to the Treefort in silence. Barry’s interrogation hadn’t given them a lot to go by, hardly anything really. Only that there was a Mansion, and whoever he was, was coming. Sullivan wasn’t sure if he knew where they were or not.
“Where is he?” she asked in a panic.
“Dead,” said Sullivan and marched away toward his RV to barricade himself for the night.
Barry’s death was well received; Barry was the murderer of two of their friends and most everyone felt more at ease with him gone for good.
The group retired to their RVs earlier than most nights and after hours of trying, Nash finally fell asleep, Melissa tossing and turning beside him, trapped in a faraway nightmare. His sleep was dreamless, but not restful, as if the Duncan-howler was just on the outskirts of his slumber. He woke to the morning light to find Melissa already gone. Through the windows he could see Sullivan was talking with a small group of people who wore black riot gear he hadn’t seen before. He dressed quickly and jumped from the RV to join them.
Four men, whom he’d not had the chance to meet yet, stood dressed in the gear, each with a rifle strapped to their back and a clear riot shield with the word POLICE printed across the front. They wore a matching helmet with a clear faceguard.
“Those are new,” said Nash, looking at the riot gear as the men walked away.
“We’ve had the gear for a while but never really felt we had use for it. Until now anyway,” he said as he watched the men climb the ladders to get on top of the RVs. There were two men on each line of RVs and they walked back and forth as they surveyed the area outside the Fort.
“I wouldn’t mind helping out with this,” said Nash as he watched the guards on top of the RVs.
“Actually, I had something else in mind for you. I want you outside the walls again.”
“I thought we were putting a stop to that.”
“I’ve seen the way you are outside the fence. I can tell that you and Duncan spent a lot of time on the road and you know what you’re doing. You and Scott are going to be our only away team, until I’ve vetted some of the others. Just once a day, I want the two of you to do a quick patrol of the area, only after the sentinels have given you the okay to go.”
“You like giving things names around here, don’t you?” asked Nash with a smile. Sullivan looked up at the four sentinels.
“I guess I do,” he said. “Don’t go at the same time every day, either. If someone is out there watching, I don’t want them catching wind of a routine.”
“I assume you’re in the loop now,” said Scott as he walked up to the two of them. “Seems quiet, I was up there earlier. Wanna do a sweep?”
“For sure,” said Nash, ready to get back outside to help in the security effort.
The two of them walked together to the armory to check out their weapons. Mark let them in with a toothless grin as the typical smell of body odor invaded their senses. Nash grabbed his favorite knife, as well as a handgun and began to clip it to his waist.
“Here,” said Scott, handing Nash a large rifle. “Sullivan wants us to be armed to the teeth out there. Position of power should we run into any trouble.”
Nash reluctantly took the rifle in his hands and hung it around his back like he’d always seen Sullivan do; he slumped slightly, surprised by its weight.
“You’ll get used to it,” said Scott with a smile.
“Do you think Sullivan would let me hang on to this knife?” asked Nash as he held it in front of him.
“I’ve noticed you like that one. Just keep it. I’ll let Mark know that it’s yours now.”
He sheathed the knife and stepped out of the hot trailer and back into Mark’s foul smell. Mark crossed the knife off of his lis
t and smiled at Nash with a thumbs up. Scott opened up a large compartment attached to the back of the armory trailer and pulled out more riot gear.
“He wants us wearing these when we’re outside,” he said as he handed Nash a collection of protective gear. It was a full set for both of them, designed to protect their chest, arms, back, and legs. They both brushed off dust from the face guards before they situated the equipment on their heads. Nash gave Melissa a salute as he walked, which made her smile nervously as she watched them walk toward the front gate. He knew she wasn’t a fan of him leaving the Fort, no matter how much protective gear he wore, but part of keeping his promise to her was keeping the Fort safe.
“Be careful, you two,” said Dianna as she shut the gate behind them.
As usual, the woods around the Fort were relatively calm. The sounds of birds singing in the sunlight echoed through the trees as they moved together silently, holding their rifles in front of them as they scanned the trees. Considering most of their previous trips had led them to the creek, they decided to branch off in another direction to explore other areas. After having walked for twenty minutes, they were glad they did.
They came across a small camouflaged tent with the front flaps left open, softly blowing in the breeze. It was situated behind a large tree, which blocked its view from the direction of the Treefort.
“How in the hell did we miss this,” said Scott as he leaned forward to look inside. The tent was filled with empty cans of food and water bottles, scattered messily overtop a dirty sleeping bag. A quiver full of clean arrows sat on the ground next to an old bow and a canteen. Scott grabbed the canteen and spilled the contents out onto the ground, creating a thick pool of crimson blood.
“This is deranged,” said Scott as he threw the canteen into the woods.
“I guess we have an answer to who the sniper was when I first got here,” said Nash when he opened up the flaps of the tent and revealed a rifle laying on the ground.
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