by Mary Martel
Minutes turn into hours as I sponge up as much information as I can. As what I’m assuming is the alcohol starts running out, half their crew starts drifting inside with a wobble to their walk. The other half seems to be dead set on starting their own little sick fight club. Grunts, groans, and cheers can be heard even from the distance we’re at. That’s the thing about the apocalypse, you never realize just how quiet it’ll be, making sounds travel way further than they should.
It isn’t long before the fights run out of steam, which is no wonder since they’re drunk off their asses. The birds are starting to stir, letting me know sunrise won’t be too far off now. I’d like to stay some during the day just for more intel, but that’ll be taking the risk of being spotted. We’ll have to head out at the first sign of light.
With everything finally gone quiet, it’s easy to hear the fuckfaces bumbling through the woods at the edge of the tower. Between the disgusting sounds that spew from their lips and the shuffling of their lead feet, any moron would be able to hear them coming. All but a drunk gang member apparently.
He comes out of the dark from the direction of their camp, muttering nonsense to himself while rubbing at his face. I elbow Dex softly to get him awake, and thankfully he doesn’t startle. We get firsthand seats to the shit show the dude brings down on himself. His voice has drawn the fuckfaces out of the trees. There are more than I originally thought, too. At least a dozen. The dude doesn’t even see them until one is close enough to almost chomp down on him.
Cursing, he stumbles backward, realizing there are more than just the one. I totally expect him to take off at a drunk run back toward their camp. However, what I’m not expecting is for him to circle around to the ladder. Whatever it takes, we can’t let him up here. Gideon and Colten said they have guns. If he fires that thing, our cover will be blown, and we’ll have no chance at getting Noble and Sam back.
Putting my mouth close to Dex’s ear, I tell him, “Stay.”
Without waiting to see if he listens, I scoot around him to crab walk toward the ladder. As I look down the open grate, all I can do is hope that the drunk dude doesn’t look up and see me. Luckily, I think the cover of darkness kind of helps my case.
I wait, hoping he’ll miss a rung and fall off to the dead still waiting at the bottom for him. It’s too bad for me that he’s likely been used to being this drunk his entire life and handles climbing the thing like a fucking pro. Oh well, time for plan B.
Biding my time, I wait until his hand closes around the last rung before I leap right in his face.
“Boo!” I yell as loudly as I dare.
I’m pretty sure the dude pisses himself as his eyes go wide as saucers and he loses his grip. Guilt had already been building up because I just knew I was going to have to smash him in the face to get him to let go. Turns out to be a lot easier than that. His sharp intake of breath keeps him from screaming as he falls, but it doesn’t stop those meaty arms reaching out for me or anything to save him. He hits the ground with a sickening thud and the fuckfaces take that as their dinner bell ringing. They converge on him immediately. Considering there aren’t any of the usual screams that accompany being eaten alive, I’m assuming that he either died from the fall or was knocked unconscious. Either way, he’s not an issue any longer.
Relief is short lived as I ponder how the hell to get us down from here without getting eaten ourselves when another figure pops up. With the sky starting to lighten, he’d have been easy enough to spot were I not distracted. As it is, he hasn’t spotted us either.
“Kenneth, you asshole. This better not be some fucking prank,” he shouts, walking straight up on the tower and pile of dead eating his friend. The way they turn makes chills go down my spine. Watching them act as one unit has always given me the heebie jeebies.
“Fuck,” the newcomer swears, getting the first glimpse of his friend, “you dumbass.”
In a shocking move, he doesn’t bother killing them or trying to get them off his buddy. No, this cowardly motherfucker tucks tail and takes off running. Just in time too, because in his distracted state, another dead crept from within the trees and made a beeline right for him.
I shake my head as the others move to follow in pursuit, leaving behind the carcass of a fresh kill. This is our chance if we’re ever going to get one.
Turning back to Dex, I realize he’s two steps behind me already, and for once I don’t berate him for not listening.
“We’ve got to go now,” I tell him, starting down the ladder.
I stop so that our faces are inches apart. “Don’t stop for any reason.”
He nods, and I press my lips against his quickly. I love the surprise that flashes in his expression, but the kiss is over before it’s barely started. One day soon I’ll make it up to him, I promise myself as we lower ourselves to the ground.
We have to break some kind of record hoofing it back home, neither of us breaking stride. If I hadn’t been sure he was the right one to bring out here with me, I’m damn sure of it now. No one else would’ve been able to keep pace, and I’m pretty sure I was the one slowing him down.
By the time we make it back to the house, we’re both covered in sweat and out of breath. I’m thoroughly fucking spent. I need a shower and a few hours of sleep and not necessarily in that order. Kemp greets us with a curt nod on the back porch like he’s been waiting out here this whole time for us to get back. Knowing his crazy ass, he probably has.
He opens the door to let us inside where we find Russ and Joseph crashed on the couch and Graham in a chair over by the window. Gideon and Colten are nowhere to be found. Grabbing a glass of water, I let the wild man wake the other three while Dex and I catch our breath, taking a seat at the kitchen table. The others join us within a few moments, and I go through our entire encounter, skimming over the bits and pieces of the guy I condemned to death. Not like I think they’d judge me for it, but I’m just too tired to consider what I’ve done. We’ve just made concrete plans go in for rescue tomorrow before daybreak when there’s a commotion upstairs with the sound of glass breaking. Now what?
Kemp beats me to the stairs, but I’m right on his heels. As we crest the top step, I notice Grandma Ross’ door wide open. Did the guys do that? There’s a gurgling sound from inside that has me drawing my second sword from my back as Kemp reaches for the pistol tucked at his.
He flips the switch to the light, momentarily blinding us all. When the room comes into focus, I almost wish it hadn’t. Grandma Ross is hovering over a clearly dead John. She must’ve used her fingernails to rip into his throat because last I saw she didn’t have any real teeth in her mouth. Not like the undead version of her is letting that stop her. I gag at the sight of blood and muscle from John’s neck covering her mouth and dripping down her chin.
“Grandma?” Joseph says quietly behind us.
It may have been almost silent, but it’s enough to catch her attention. Those milky eyes travel straight to where I stand at Kemp’s shoulder. As she starts to lift her body off the floor, I take a step forward and shove my blade through her skull. I try to ignore how much tougher it is than what I’m used to with the fuckfaces. I especially try not to think about the way she slinks to the floor when I yank it back out.
Graham must have gone to get Gideon because he pushes his way past Kemp to kneel beside his brother’s body.
“He was starting to come around,” he says with a small sniffle. “He must’ve gotten up to wander, still deliriously out of his mind. And now…”
“Death by grandma,” Joseph says with a fake quirk of his lips, obviously trying to play off whatever true emotion he’s feeling. “I’m sorry, dude. I left the door open because she didn’t seem to be doing too good. I never thought something like this would happen.”
“It’s okay,” Gideon replies softly. “We’re all just biding our time on Earth anyway, right?”
At this, he lifts his gaze to mine and asks, “Would you mind if I borrowed one of those?”
<
br /> Kemp snags Joseph by the back of his shirt and tugs him back to the door before I hand him one, knowing what’s already coming.
“Rest in peace, brother,” he tells John with a kiss to his forehead. My heart breaks a little as he slides my blade through his brother’s head. Maybe living in this world together made them strong enough to make a promise to never let the other go rogue if they could help it. I don’t know if that would be something I could do were I in his shoes. Choking the life out of that emotion and burying it at the pit of my stomach, I’ll let it free later when there isn’t as much at stake. We’ve got a job to do tomorrow, and all our lives may depend on it.
Gideon wipes the blood on his brother’s shirt before handing my sword back, and I give him a short condolence. It may sound stilted, but it’s the best I can manage. He doesn’t seem to notice. Graham and Kemp take over the room, bringing in sheets to wrap the two bodies up in, and I take that as my cue to leave.
Shower and rest.
First, though, I stop to give Joseph a hug on my way out and tell him, “She’s in a better place now. Come talk to me if you need to.”
I can feel him nod against the top of my head as he replies, “Thanks, but I think I’m okay. We knew it was coming for a long time. I’m just sad she took someone with her.”
Going up on my tiptoes, I kiss the bottom of his chin and murmur, “Don’t live with that guilt. It wasn’t your fault. My offer still stands.”
His lips press against my forehead before I pull away and tell him, Dex, and Russ that I’m showering and grabbing a nap. They don’t try to stop me, nor do they join me. Neither makes me feel any kind of emotion. I’m letting it all simmer in my stomach until I can burn it all up by repaying that gang not so kindly. My wrath will be a hundred times worse than my fury.
Noble
Two. Fucking. Tours.
I survived two tours overseas. Never once getting wounded or captured. Now here we are in the land of the free, and I’m bleeding like a stuck pig while tied to some god-awful metal rolling desk chair some poor teacher had to sit in every day of the week.
Sam got the worst of it during that cocksucker’s last visit a couple hours ago. Beat the dude to a pulp and left him lying in a growing pool of his own blood. If it wasn’t for the harsh breaths he’s been drawing, I would’ve believed him dead.
I still can’t believe we let them catch us like this, but better the two of us than us, plus the other three that were with us and that guy’s brother when he didn’t get his medicine. Sam would probably agree were he conscious. I’ve got a feeling that we won’t be around for another day. We’ve worn out our welcome and aren’t talking like they want us to. One thing these assholes won’t ever understand is the loyalty of family. Or any loyalty for that matter. I’ve already witnessed them turning on each other at the drop of a hat.
This will be our second night here, and if it’s anything like the last, they’ll all get drunk then come in here looking for somewhere to vent their aggression right around dawn. There’s no way Sam will survive another beating like that. If my inner timeclock is right, we’ve got maybe an hour, two at tops.
Thick ropes are bound around my hands and linked through the chair. I’ve rubbed them raw trying to break free. Both while I’ve been alone in here and when they were beating the fuck out of Sam. He and Emerald may not have been with us long, but that doesn’t make them mean any less than the others. They’re still my fellow soldiers in this fight, and it was one dig at a time every punch and kick he took. Breaking the chair didn’t work either. That only earned me a pair of brass knuckles to my cheekbone.
I hate to give up, but there’s nothing else I can think of to get us out of here. If I have to die, I’m going to try my best to make sure one of those bastards hurts for it. Setting my teeth into a hard line until it gives me a headache, my knee bounces as patience wears me down into a knot of nerves. Trying again to free my hands, the rope rubs my wrists so hard I can feel blood dripping down my fingers, and it gains me nothing more than painful burns and wet palms.
When the first gunshot goes off, my head pops up so fast a sharp pain shoots up my neck. It’s so loud that even Sam stirs in his sleep, though it’s more like a twitch then short groan of pain. These guys are going to end up getting themselves killed, and a small part of me takes satisfaction in that. Maybe they’re out there shooting each other and doing the world a favor.
As the gunshots continue and some yelling flows around it, it sounds like they’ve gone to war out there. Hope tries to take root in my chest that they came for us, but that’s squandered by the fear of if they did. One by one, it seems as if each gun simply stops. Whether it be running out of bullets or other reasons, I’ll never know trapped in here like this.
That’s when their buffoon of a ringleader bursts through the door with half a dozen goons on his heels.
“They came for them!” one of them shouts as they try to lock the door. Apparently, these morons didn’t think about having to lock it from the inside. They just wanted to make sure we didn’t escape.
Big dude with a machete the length of my forearm, the meanest one out of the bunch besides the leader, stomps over to put the blade at my throat as he growls, “I say we fucking kill them. Let them know how close they were to that victory as these motherfuckers bleed to death in front of them.”
Were my feet not bound and wrapped around the midsection of this chair, I’d bend both his kneecaps backward before making him choke on that knife.
The leader, some older man, way too old to be acting the way he is, stops the machete-wielding asshole. “Not yet, Roger. We need them to get out of this alive.”
I laugh loudly, hoping it can be heard down the halls. Shouldn’t be too hard considering the gunshots have died down completely outside.
“Shut up,” Roger hisses, throwing a punch into my gut.
“Did you hear that?” the one closest to the door asks right before the door gets thrown open hard enough to shatter the top pane of glass on it. All the monkeys of the circus aim and shoot at the same time until their clips are empty. None of them have time to reload before Kemp storms inside with a pistol in one hand and tomahawk in the other. God only knows where he found that thing, but it comes in handy. Literally as he chops the first guy’s hand clean off at the wrist before putting a bullet into his forehead.
The rest of the monkeys are now trying to get new clips in their guns, but Kemp takes down another with one shot to the chest and one to the face. Then in runs Emerald. Her beautiful hair is streaked with blood as is the rest of her body. Roger takes one look at her and grins like an idiot before charging toward her. Fool.
One quick movement and her blade is buried to the hilt in his throat. Down to three and the ringleader who is now aiming down the sight straight toward her.
“Em!” I shout, not knowing it’s unnecessary.
Lithe as a cat, she dips down and springs forward, knocking the asshole’s hand up just as he pulls the trigger. Part of the ceiling rains down on them, coating their hair in white. Appearing to dance while she moves as though she’s listening to music in her head, she avoids every punch leveled at her but only manages to land one or two.
It’s clear the moment she spots Sam. The stutter in her step costs her a blow to the temple that knocks her to her knees. I try to break free using all the strength I can muster to no avail.
Nevertheless, leave it up to the ringleader to prove one of the oldest lessons out there. Arrogance is akin to pride. Neither will get you anywhere, and they’ll both cost you.
Emerald drives a fist straight into his groin, and as he doubles over in pain, her blade digs through the bottom of his jaw and up into his skull. Blood squirts everywhere like something out of a bad horror movie, but I can’t seem to have any care for it. I’m just glad she’s safe.
In my distraction of watching her fight, I didn’t notice Kemp struggling with two guys in the corner, nor the arrival of Dex, taking on the other one. Lock
ing eyes with our woman, I do the one thing I can do in the chair. Spinning my back to her, I spread my hands as far apart as they’ll go.
Trust falls have nothing on this shit, I think right before I hear the short squeal from the tip of her blade dragging down the back of my chair. Then my hands are free. They’re numb and are making the rope slippery as hell, but I’m able to quickly enough undo the knot under my chair.
Springing to my feet, my long legs eat up the distance between me and one of the closest dudes. Grabbing the side of his head, I bash it into the concrete wall not once, but twice, for good measure. This frees up Kemp to finish the other guy off.
Once the room goes quiet, the only sounds are our ragged breathing and Em’s soft murmuring to Sam. Russ sprints from the room only to rush back in a few moments later with Dex, Gideon, and Graham in tow. The latter heads straight for Sam as I ignore the pang in my ribs and turn to Kemp to ask, “How did you manage to take out so many of them so fast?”
“We had a little help from some stragglers we found in the woods,” he replies easily while wiping his newly acquired tomahawk on his dead dude’s back. I know my mouth drops open in shock. It’s awesome finding new people, but we can’t take on anymore problems right now.
“The undead variety,” Emerald supplies in a sweet voice, coming to stand in front of me.
I can’t help the smile that spreads over my face as I ask, “Why does it feel like we’ve turned into your own personal army?”
“Because it’s the end of the motherfucking world,” she replies smoothly. “I can have an army of dudes and be a badass zombie slayer.”
“Damn right you can, baby,” Kemp drawls.
Standing together, she’s so petite compared to my size that it’s almost unreal. But as she tosses her arms around my waist, everything in the world feels right. I hug her as though this could be my last one because it almost was.
