They hurried out and the sounds of smashing dishes and overturning cabinets could be heard a few seconds later.
Gordon pulled out his monogramed handkerchief, dabbed at a speck of blood that had splashed on his face and kicked the lifeless body of one of the monkeys out of the way.
Seeing it hurt Murray more than the broken nose but at least the other three were safe. They fled when Gordon started shooting his hand cannon. The noise terrified the small simians and they had all ran upstairs. They were probably already outside and running for the barn. He hoped the triplets had hidden, too. There was nothing they could do, not against a dozen teenagers with guns.
He ignored the blood streaming from his nose. It hurt, but he wouldn’t give this bastard the satisfaction of showing it. Nothing he could do about it anyway with his hands tied to the arms of his wheelchair. He sought comfort in Bob’s promise. If he was successful, this would never happen. He’d promised to fix it all.
Gordon roughed him up some more while his goons smashed anything that wasn’t already broken in the rest of the house. He slapped him and called him names. He could handle the beating and insults, he would heal. He’d let the coward have his fun, let him bust all their stuff. He could take it. The tribe would be hella pissed but there wasn’t much they could do except prepare better if it happened again. He tried to tamp down the rage he felt when Gordon murdered Sage. It ignited a fire inside of him like he’d never felt before. He shifted his gaze to his tormentor. Hatred flared in his eyes.
“She was innocent, Gordon. She was just scared, you had no reason to kill her.”
“I don’t think so. Besides, you killed Jester. He was a person, that’s just a dumb animal. You had your chance, but I was better. Maybe, I’ll hang her carcass from one of the palm trees by my pool.” Gordon laughed as he nudged Sage’s corpse with his foot. He stepped on her leg and applied pressure until he was rewarded with the popping sound of a breaking bone
Murray raged harder against the ropes. If he could just get to one of the hidden knives strapped under his chair, he’d lunge and bury it in Gordon’s eye. The rest of the gang would run if their leader was dead.
“You remember when you exposed me with the poison leaves and then voted to banish me? That was the worst day of my life. I thought for sure you and your friends would kill me, but none of you had the guts. Didn’t want my death on your conscience. You wanted the zombies to do your dirty work for you. Bunch of savages, all of you. Living like animals. Just look at this mess.” Gordon shook his head in disgust.
“You know, that day also turned out to be the best thing that could have happened to me. Look at me now.” He flexed his muscular arms.
Gordon paused and his eyes darted around the room looking for the source of the scratching sound. It seemed to be louder than normal in the old house. Maybe this was where it had started and he could purge it from his head by exacting a little revenge. He was hearing it all the time lately. The slow clawing of fingers on wood. Maybe it needed a blood offering.
Murray watched Gordy as his eyes darted around the room and continued to work at his bonds. He had the first niggling doubts about his chances of survival. He was starting to get light headed. The hole in his leg was still bleeding. Not bad, not like an artery had been cut, but it was steady and Gordon wasn’t going to stop it. He hadn’t really meant to kill the other boy but what was he supposed to do when people came barging into his house. It was a snap reaction and he didn’t regret it. At least he took one of them out. He was pretty sure Gordon was going to kill him no matter what. He was crazy, he could see it in his eyes as they jumped around, looking for something that wasn’t there. Gordon snapped back from wherever he’d been and focused on the bloody ropes cutting into Murray’s wrists.
“You aren’t going anywhere. Give it up. Tell me where the guns are hidden, beg me for your miserable life and maybe I’ll let you and one of your little flea bags live.” Gordon pressed the barrel of the gun to his forehead.
Murray spat on one of the expensive hiking boots Gordon wore. Gordon backhanded him across the face with the pistol. Murray instantly felt his eye swelling shut and the shards of broken teeth grating against his cheeks. A wave of nausea swept through him, but he fought down the urge to vomit. He suppressed a moan. He wouldn’t give Gordon the satisfaction. He spat blood and a broken tooth onto Gordon’s other boot. Gordon hit him again and nearly knocked Murray unconscious.
“Now, where was I?” Gordon continued. “Oh, yeah. I was doing my bad guy monologue. You little bastards have ruined my plans for the last time. You messed up a deal I had to get out this wasteland. Tell me, how did a bunch of orphans and animal rejects beat that team of trained soldiers? Is there someone else out there I need to know about?”.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You are the only other people we’ve seen since the outbreak.” Murray mumbled through his ruined mouth.
It clicked then. The cult hadn’t found the warehouse by accident, someone had told them where to look. Gordon had told them and thought the tribe had killed them. That’s why he was here, that’s why his goons were destroying the house looking for machine guns.
“Doesn’t matter now, I guess. Deals change all the time. Flexibility is the key.” Gordon said, channeling something his dad would have said.
“I wish I’d brought my cigar cutter. We’d have some fun with your fingers, but honestly, I wasn’t expecting this place to be deserted. I guess I’ll just have to make do with what I have.”
“We’ve looked everywhere, Boss.” Bong said as the rest of the gang trailed back into the living room. “They don’t have any guns.”
“Then go check the outbuildings.” Gordon snarled. “They have to be here somewhere!”
The men hurried out, they didn’t like the way their leader was waving around his pistol.
“Where’s the guns?” Gordon asked the wheelchair bound boy.
“I’ve told you, we don’t have any.”
Gordon shot him again, this time right through the bone of his left leg. Murray didn’t feel it but knew he was dead. Blood spurted out and if he didn’t get a tourniquet on it immediately, he’d bleed out in minutes.
“Oops.” Gordon said and grabbed the can of paint thinner. He poured some in the bullet hole and lit a match.
“This works in the movies.” He said then wrinkled his nose and stepped away.
“That stinks.” He complained and waved away the smell of burning flesh.
Murray struggled to get free, jerked at the ropes and nearly toppled the chair as his leg charred and burned.
“Hey, anybody want some barbeque?” Gordon laughed as Bong and Maggot hurried back through the door to see what happened.
They turned their heads in disgust. Gordon had told them they were getting their revenge, but burning a crippled boy was too much, even for them. The smell of burnt flesh nearly overwhelmed them; the stench was so raw. They backed out into the fresh air.
Murray cursed him, screamed his rage then bent low and started blowing on his burning legs, trying to put out the fire. The paint thinner burned itself out quickly but it had done its job, the blood was no longer spurting out, it was barely a trickle. He stared at the damage and knew his live was over. His leg had a gaping hole, the meat was burnt and blackened and he knew enough about burns to know they’d never stop the infection. It would be gangrenous within days. He wished he could feel it, use the pain to channel his rage and burst free from his bindings, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t feel anything below the waist and that made it worse. He wasn’t afraid of dying. He’d been at death’s door since the van put him in this chair. He was afraid of leaving his tribe. They were his purpose and reason for living.
Gordon clapped softly when Murray sat back, winded and pale. He felt a perverse pleasure in what he was doing. He even felt aroused by it.
“Your friends are next.” Gordon said then poured paint thinner over Murrays head. “And each one’s agony will be worse
than the last.”
“You’ll never win, Gordon.” Murray croaked.
“I’ve already won. They just don’t know it yet.” Gordon chuckled. “Unfortunately, you won’t be around to see it.”
He splashed the rest of the flammable liquid onto the furniture and drapes and made a trail out to the porch. Gordon had a wide grin on his face as he breathed in the fresh air and looked at the shocked faces of his gang. They couldn’t believe he was really going to burn the crippled boy alive. Gordon was half crazy but this was taking it a step too far. There was going to be hell to pay when Kodiak found out what they’d done.
“Um, hey.” Bong said hesitantly. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
In answer, Gordon tossed the lighter into the puddle of paint thinner leading out the door.
It ignited with a whoosh and Gordon fled the flames that rolled out of the house. It was an old, dry structure and made for a massive blaze. He watched eagerly as smoke rolled from the building and the flames grew higher.
“Wait,” he said sharply. “I want to hear him scream one last time.”
The others were already running for the back fence and their four wheelers. They wanted to be long gone before the kids came back. They hadn’t found any guns, they were hidden somewhere and they knew the kids were good. They had wiped out a whole bunch of soldiers.
He listened for Murray’s screams of agony, but they were drowned out by the sounds of the roaring fire. The smoke would be seen for miles and the others were right. It would be best to get gone and get hidden back up north.
28
The Triplets
Landon, Caleb and Clara scampered down the ladder from the hay loft. They’d hidden when the boys ransacked the barn, held tightly to their foxes away and buried themselves in the hayloft. They didn’t know what else to do.
We run. The tribe had told them a million times. We always run away from danger.
They’d held their breath and not moved a muscle when the gunshots erupted from the house. They were afraid. They’d seen what Gordon would do if he caught them. They’d seen him beat up Kodiak. He was a real life boogeyman.
Ashamed at hiding, Landon and Caleb wanted to rush the house when they heard the gunshots, but they were petrified in their hiding place. They wanted to get to their weapons and try to stop whatever was happening, but they couldn’t. Clara begged them not to. She held their hands tightly in hers. They all cringed when they heard Murray scream. Anger rose in their little hearts, but fear rooted their feet.
Minutes passed without any sound. They crept from their hiding places to the window and looked at the house. They saw the smoke pouring from the windows then watched Gordon and the mean boys run for the safety of the woods.
“Murray!” Clara squeaked. The three flew down the ladder and raced towards the blazing house.
Without a second thought, Landon raced up the back steps that were already beginning to smoke and grabbed the brass doorknob. His flesh hissed as the hot metal burned into him. He let go with a howl of agony. Tears streaming down his face, he ripped off his shirt and wrapped it around the knob and tried again. Caleb joined him and they pushed the door open. A wall of heat and pressure washed over them. The fire sucked hungrily at the fresh air and roared towards them. The heat singed their hair and eyebrows and they saw nothing but an orange and red wall of flames racing at them. It pulled the air out of their lungs. Coughing and heaving for breath they ran away from the doorway. Clara batted at the flames struggling to catch hold of their clothes. She pushed them down to the ground, yelled for them to roll like they taught them when the firemen came to their school.
The three children watched in terror as their home burned and blazed. They didn’t try to get buckets of water; it would have been useless. They yelled for Murray, yelled until they were hoarse and the intense heat forced them backward. The fire was so strong it was making its own wind and the house sounded it like it was roaring its pain to the sky. Flames flickered from every window as the heat and pressure blew out the glass upstairs. The wood siding caught fire, its paint curling in wisps that turned to embers and ash. They stood, held hands and watched. Tears streaked down their soot covered faces and when their foxes returned they held them close and cried. The roof groaned, sagged in the middle and collapsed in on itself. Within minutes the walls fell too. The fireplace and the stove were the only things recognizable after a time and when the chimney crumbled, the floor caved in and the stove disappeared into the basement. The fire had burned hot and fast. Without mercy, it destroyed everything they had.
Through it all they watched. Landon held his burnt hand to his chest. He’d never felt so much pain in his young life. He gritted his teeth. It was nothing like Murray must have endured and he hoped in his little heart that Murray was already dead before the fire started.
They heard chittering as the roar of the fire died away. Elmo, Ernie and China raced down from the tree they’d sheltered in and scampered towards them seeking the comfort of the children. Sage was nowhere to be seen. The capuchins were unusually still as each perched on the shoulders of one of them. They seemed sullen, withdrawn. Their spirits were broken. They knew things were different. The boy they loved so much and their litter mate were gone. Their brown eyes reflected the light of the dying fire as strange grouping of creatures watched everything they’d known curl up in ashes.
29
Ruins
Donny looked around for Yewan but she was already at the head of the alley, staring northward with her tail twitching. He jogged out of parking lot, his mind still jumbled with happy thoughts of the long afternoon. It had been fun playing tag with the others among the towering stacks of pallets. He wasn’t sure what Analise’s deal was though. She’d shot him at every opportunity, even when the others were easier prey. He shook his head. Had he done something to make her angry? Was she paying him back for some wrong he’d done? He shook off the thought. He would ask Murray later. Murray knew practically everything.
He was pleased and stuffed with candy. He’d never seen so much food at one time. Didn’t even know that one place could hold so much. The tribe would easily survive the next winter and if they could get a second crop in, it would be even better. He missed that roasted corn.
It was later than he thought as he glanced at the position of the sun when he reached the end of the alley. Their nerf war had eaten up a lot of time. He placed a hand on his panther and felt her tense muscles. She was on high alert. He scanned the streets slowly, looked for any signs of the undead or packs of animals then turned his gaze homeward. He saw the smoke in the distance, rising over the treetops. A lot of it. Dread washed over him. He raced back to the parking lot, slammed his spear then signed furiously at the tribe who were still goofing around.
Smoke.
Fire.
Home.
The fun from earlier was instantly forgotten. Their deepest fears bubbled to the surface as they watched the black smoke rolling skyward. They were almost four miles away, but the column of smoke looked as wide as a football field.
“Go, don’t wait on us!” Kodiak told the girls riding the fastest animals. “It will attract any zombies in the area, too, so be careful!”
Harper pulled Bert over to an abandoned car so she could swing into the saddle and wheeled the tall animal around to chase after Ziggy and Vanessa. They were already out of sight, the slim dark girl crouched low on her ostrich who was running thirty miles an hour
Donny and Yewan sped off in a dead run for the zoo as Kodiak shut off the tractor and swung aboard Otis. The bears weren’t as fast as the others but they would run tirelessly mile after mile after mile.
The short trip back to Piedmont seemed to take forever. Vanessa and Ziggy were the first there and had to clear the gate of the undead that were already stumbling towards the smoke. It could be seen for miles in all directions.
“Go!” Vanessa said “I’ll take care of this.”
She drove Ziggy into the midst of t
hem, shouting Zulu curses and slashing at heads. Her machetes drank the blood of the undead and she led them away so Harper could get inside.
She slid off Bert, hit the ground running and screamed for Murray and the children as she neared the remains of the burning house.
She heard a cry and spun towards the barn. Caleb, Landon and Clara ran across the yard straight to her. Landon was hurt and they were all crying.
“Thank God.” Harper said as she moved towards them and wrapped the three children in a hug.
Vanessa finished her grisly work and joined her a few minutes later.
Swan was the next in the gate, sweat poured from her and she breathed in great, gasping lungful’s of air. She had sprinted the whole four miles and her pack panted heavily with her. Donny joined her a few minutes later, sucking in air just as hard.
“What happened? Where’s Murray?” Swan asked when she could speak.
Harper gave her head a curt shake and went back to soothing the children and dressing Landon’s hand. The story had only taken a few seconds to spill out and they didn’t need to tell it again. Gordon’s gang had come, they had hid, they heard gunshots and Murray screaming then the house was on fire.
Donny refused to believe it and ran to check the back yard and the outbuildings. Maybe Murray had managed to get out, to crawl away in the confusion. Swan and Vanessa joined the search but it was fruitless. Nothing could have survived the blaze.
They watched as the last wall tumbled over and fell in the dying flames. They burned brighter with the fresh fuel but by the time the rest of the tribe arrived, there was only glowing embers and the occasional dancing flame.
“We tried to get him out. We tried so hard.” Landon held up his burnt hand. “It was too hot. We couldn’t get in.”
“You did good.” Harper told them. “You did the right thing. Those bad boys would have hurt you too if they found you.”
The Feral Children (Book 2): Savages Page 18
