Haven From Hell (Book 3): A Young Man's Game

by Won, Mark

  Stabby answered, “Let him suffer. If he ain’t got no eyes he can’t turn into one of them.”

  That was news to me so I had to excuse myself to the ladies and see that for myself. I stabbed him with Abby and stood back. He did not change. I found that very curious. Like I may have said before, when people get killed they often Change. With non-bandit types the chance is about fifty-fifty, but, the thing is, with bandit types, the percentage is way higher, like one hundred percent. So what I was seeing was extremely interesting to me, in a professional sort of way.

  I had to ask, “How did you learn about this?” motioning to the ruined corpse of the dead guy.

  She said, “That’s how one of them got killed before. A friend of mine scratched his eye out before they killed her. Later, I heard that he got killed by one of the dead and didn’t change into one of them. I put two and two together.”

  “That seems like a bit of a leap to me, but whatever, you’re right.”

  With the town merrily burning behind us, we made our way to a nice little farmhouse about a mile away, and after slaughtering the zombie inhabitants, spent the night in relative comfort. Then, come morning, we set out toward the doc’s place.

  What I found was a happy scene of reunion for me. There were three big buses all parked in the gravel driveway with a bunch of friendly looking heavily armed men and women wandering about. I could tell right away they were no threat. Best of all, Bruce was with them!

  I ran over and gave the poor guy a big hug. He had signed up with the rescue crew from Haven. Now all he did was drive around saving people. Chloe and Tisha were there, too. They all acted as the crew’s medical personal. I introduced everyone to each other and to my new friends (the ladies names were Stabby, Lisa, Brooke, Janice, and Nancy). It was a celebration for everybody.

  Dan had been busy, even before I’d left. He’d got together a car battery and used a length of cable to act as an antenna and went with Gina, Andrea, and Melissa to set up a new attempt at communication. They hit pay dirt when Dan climbed an old telephone pole and rigged everything up. A few hours later and here everybody was rescued! Don’t get me wrong, I liked the doc’s farmhouse, it was just showing a few problems was all. Evil neighbors, dead neighbors, that kind of thing.

  Then there was the problem of the prisoners we still had. I took the leader of the rescue group aside, a guy by the name of Paul (he was carrying a neat long handled hammer), and told him all about it. I also told him that the bandits seemed to have picked up a lot of bayonets and rifles which he might be interested in, but I didn’t know where they had got them from (my guess was the basement of a museum). Also, they probably had a munitions store around somewhere (assuming that I hadn’t burned it up). He came to a quick decision and walked away. When he returned, fifteen minutes later, there was blood on his hammer and he announced to his crew that they had to make a quick stop before returning home. Problem solved.

  I would have liked to get in a game of ‘Find the Cure’ but that wasn’t an option because everyone was in such a hurry. ‘It was a long drive’, they said, ‘and they needed to get back as quickly as they could’. Too bad, but I understood.

  I remember when I introduced Bruce to the doc, I was afraid that Doc Saxon would make Bruce feel bad with all of his big brain talk, but they got along just fine. Bruce said that he was a neurologist and asked the doctor what kind of doctor he was, and the doc said, “I’m not a doctor,” giving me the stink eye for some reason (I just couldn’t make that guy happy), “I’m a veterinarian!” I thought that was funny (because the doc didn’t know he was a doc).

  And then, too, I remember Chloe and Tisha both gave me a kiss. I thought that was real nice. That almost made me want to go back to Haven with them.

  The last person on the bus was Andrea, and I heard her speak for the first time when she told me, “Goodbye.”

  So there I was, left behind, in what was left of a farm. Both windmills, for pumping water and generating electricity, had been stripped. Both cattle trailers had been loaded up (Doc Saxon said that he’d come back for the rest of his beef sometime), and everything of value had been shipped out. All the tools and the contents of all the barns and sheds, all gone, empty, and desolate. It all still belonged to the doc but where he was going to keep all of it was another question (I understood Haven had cramped housing and limited private storage). I guessed I would get to sleep in the big bed that night and then head out in the morning.

  On my map there was a little dot that was supposed to be a prison to the northwest a ways, and that sounded like as good a destination as any. Maybe there would be people there (Paul hadn’t checked, he mostly only went where he was called). If people weren’t there then I’d have a whole prison full of zombies to kill. So that was something to look forward to.

  But I still missed my friends.

  Epilogue

  Gideon threw Dewey down on the floor, and knocked the child senseless. After a quick search of the boy, which revealed no concealed weapons, Gideon opened the door and let Tracer in. After retrieving all of his possessions, Gideon handcuffed Dewey to a bedpost, dragged the bodies outside and nailed a few loose boards, found by the woodpile, over the broken window. Then he made a meal.

  After a bit, Dewey came to his senses, and after a momentary confusion began to weep inconsolably. Gideon attempted to reassure the boy, “Sorry about killing everyone you loved. Well, not really, but I’m sorry you feel bad about it. If it helps, remember that they were human garbage and now you have a chance to live a better life. Think about it.”

  “You killed them! You killed them!” was the response.

  “Yeah, I think I just said that. You’re welcome, by the way.”

  Dewey, not feeling particularly grateful, replied, “I’m gonna kill you! I’m gonna kill you!”

  “You might, we’ll see how it goes. Until then let’s just play it by ear, okay?”

  After numerous imprecations Dewey calmed down enough to feel fear for his own future. He asked, “What are you going to do with me?”

  “What do you think I should do with you?” asked Gideon.

  “I’m going to kill you!” was the repetitious reply.

  Later the next morning, Gideon handcuffed Dewey to the rickshaw and began transporting his unwilling companion with him. It took several acts of violence to keep Dewey from thrashing about and damaging Gideon’s vehicle.

  Eventually Dewey asked, “Where are you taking me?”

  Gideon answered, “My big plan is to drop you off at the nearest approximation of civilization. Imagine how much fun it’ll be for you to meditate upon your vengeance.”

  “Why?” asked the younger boy.

  Gideon answered, “Why what? You’ll have to be more specific.”

  “Why ain’t you killed me yet?”

  “Don’t be dumb. Of course, I don’t want to kill you,” came the reply.

  “Why not?” asked Dewey.

  “Because you’re just a kid. All you know is the crap your pa taught you, and he was a would-be murderer. Maybe you’ll grow up to be better than that, maybe you won’t. We’ll see. I’ll probably be dead by then anyway,” Gideon said with a smile.

  “You killed my whole family,” Dewey said in a small lost voice.

  “‘For all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword.’”

  “What does that mean?” asked Dewey.

  “That means when your pa took up murdering people as a part time job, he should have realized that sooner or later someone would kill him and his family. But that’s not why he shouldn’t have tried to murder me. He should have sought to be more peaceable on the better grounds of ‘Thou shalt not kill.’”

  “You’re crazy, ain’t you?” It was not intended as an insult, but more of an observation.

  “Some have thought so, but that doesn’t mean I’m not right.”

  Dewey, in what passed for him as a flash of inspiration, asked, “Does that thing about swords mean that someone,
someday, is gonna kill you, too?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what it means. My calling is to stop murderers, rapists, torturers, and all such. It just stands to reason that sooner or later one of them will get me,” came Gideon’s heartfelt and honest answer.

  Dewey reasoned, “Then why do it? Why not go hide someplace? We could hide and be safe.”

  “If you were an adult I’d probably say something like, ‘what fun would that be?’ but for you I’ll say, ‘Nor love thy life, nor hate; but what thou liv’st live well, how long or short permit to Heav’n.’ Simple, see?”

  Dewey, confused and confounded by loss, answered with a heartfelt, “Huh?”

  Sighing, Gideon kept up the pace until he finally came across a small group of friendly survivors in a further section of wooded mountains some miles farther south. After spending a day in their company, Gideon called for his friends in Haven to come and pick up the survivors. He waited until he could see the buses arriving in the distance before moving on. Dewey was left in their care.

  Fin