by David Smith
The remaining three men walked behind us as Jennings walked in front. We walked past the stairs, under the plywood walkway and into the living room, mostly unmodified and the largest in the house. He was smiling a lot less than usual as others began walking in and he pointed to a couch.
"Here, make yourselves at home." He said, being cordial, putting on a show for their sakes. The people coming in and sitting around the living room, twenty-something or thirty of them, men and women but just as many children, didn't look as fooled as before. Nicholas and his wife and son were among them as was Beth and Stephanie. She saw me but didn't speak, only made eye contact then tuned her eyes to the floor.
"Ronnie," he said and snapped his fingers to get his attention. "go get some more chairs, would you?" They looked scared, not necessarily of him, but unsure of his ability to protect them, perhaps. When everyone had moved into the room and had settled in, he began to speak.
"Everyone," he addressed them. "I know things have been tough lately and we have all suffered great loss. But we have made it through tough times before and we will again." He spoke very reassuringly, somberly and sincerely but they didn't look convinced. Knowing what was underneath and seeing him try to be comforting and reverent made me hate him that much more. He was a master politician.
"We are the last remaining sanctuary of civilized society, of America. We have been here almost twenty years and we will not let thugs, terrorists, bullies or outlaws threaten our society. To prove that, we have two of them right here. A dissenter from within our own ranks and his terrorist girlfriend."
Kara and I looked at each other, I, in disbelief and her, in fear. I jumped up. "He's lying!" To my surprise, no one stopped me. I decided not to talk about the deal but go straight to the truth of the matter. "Some of you know what this place runs on and what this war is about. It's not diesel. It's rape, murder, slavery." I could see it in their faces and it occurred to me, the grim reality if it all. "You already know that. You all know, don't you?"
"Of course they do, Dane. It's a small town. Word gets around." He said, struggling to hide his smug smile behind his somber expression.
"It doesn't have to be this way!" I shouted.
"Shut him up." Jennings said to the men.
"This is not America." I pleaded as they threw me face down on the floor and began tying my hands and feet. My chest and back hurt worse than ever as the wind was knocked out me.
"Stop it!" Beth shouted and stepped forward.
"Another dissenter." Jennings said. "They always reveal themselves eventually. Grab her."
He said and some of the other men in the crowd took her by the arms and brought her to sit next to Kara.
"Only the strong have survived." I wheezed. "The weak have been culled out. We can rebuild it better than it was before but only if we start from a better place than before." That was all I got out before they put a gag around my mouth.
"We have all suffered great loss these last few days," he continued as they tied and gagged Kara and Beth. "loss like we haven't suffered in so long that we don't remember what it's like, how to deal with it. You may feel discouraged, insecure. But I say we should feel more encouraged, more secure than ever because it has been so long. In a few moments I will prove it to you. Even as I speak, the last of these outlaws are being captured by your fellow citizens, not soldiers, but civilians just like yourselves."
Just as he said it, as if it were all timed perfectly for dramatic effect, Dave came back in, escorted by the hunters and accompanied by, instead of Choppa, Spider. As soon as they saw us all tied up on the couch, Dave started to speak in protest and was bashed in the back of the head by one of the hunters, followed by Spider, and both tied up and dragged over next to us and laid in the floor at our feet.
Nicholas stood in the back of the crowd with his family behind him, shuffling nervously, trying to stay out of sight. The two younger of the hunters were moving toward them around the back of the crowd, slowly, and I wanted to yell out for him to take his family and run. But where would they run?
"These are not the only ones though. In his cowardice, Dane has revealed to me, his co-conspirator. Nicholas," he said and one man grabbed Nicholas, the other, his wife and son. "you have served this community from the very beginning. You and I, we built this place together. I can't believe you would turn on me like this."
As they brought them past Jennings, Nicholas' wife stopped and spit in his face. He calmly pulled a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and wiped his face. He then laid the handkerchief over her face, pulled his Beretta from the holster hanging loosely on his chest, quickly put it under her chin and shot her. With one loud, anti-climactic pop, she was gone. No tearful goodbye, no music, just the pop and then silence.
The bullet passed clean through spattering her husband's and the hunter's face with a fine mist of blood and she fell. Nicholas' face immediately froze, eyes and mouth wide open as a scream of terror built up inside him then erupted as he crumbled on top of her suddenly lifeless body. His wails echoed like an out of tune violin through the entire house as tears poured down his face and he lifted her to hold her tight, rocking her back and forth, rubbing her back and her arms as if to wake her up. This is the first time I ever remember crying.
The entire room was silent and just as shocked as we were, even the hunters that held them. As a result of that one action, everyone at once realized he had lost his mind and that any one of them could be next. They just stood though, silent and motionless, waiting for his next move. I couldn't understand why they didn't rush him, take his gun, end it all. He had, at most, fourteen rounds left and there were almost thirty of them. In my mind, they could wait around and he could kill fourteen more or they could go on the attack and he would kill less. So as he continued to speak, every time he turned his back, I wiggled in the ropes, trying to free myself. Dave was awake now and doing the same thing.
"This," he continued. "is how you must deal with terrorists. It's not a pretty sight but it's the only way."
Suddenly, Nicholas leapt from the ground and went at him with his hands out and tried to grab his throat. Jennings swung his arm over, trapping Nicholas' hands, side stepped and spun, throwing him to the ground. Still on his feet and with Nicholas' on his side, on the floor, he stepped back and pointed the gun at him.
"No, not you, not yet. You will be the last. I want you too see what your betrayal has caused. Who will be next though?" He said before looking around at all of us. His son was crying, the hunter still holding him by his arm.
Jennings looked at the boy, pointed the gun in his face for a moment as he thought. "No, not yet." He then walked over to us all, sitting on the couch. He pointed the gun at my forehead. "No, not yet. You need to suffer as well." He said then slowly traversed the gun, pointing it at Kara. "I don't know you but you seem to have the least value of anyone in the room."
I didn't have my hands free yet, or my feet but I rocked forward, and lunged at Jennings just as he squeezed the trigger. I shoulder tackled him and he deflected me to the ground with his elbow as the gun popped again. I didn't even want to look but as I painfully rolled over I saw that the shot had gone wide, splitting the top of the couch cushion, just behind her head. I was on the ground now with Jennings standing over me, the pain from my broken ribs radiating throughout my entire body.
"Oh wait," he said. "I almost forgot. Stephanie, join me, would you." And she walked out of the crowd nervously and stood by him. "You two could've been happy together," he said to me, taking her by the arm. "but you didn't want to play by the rules." He said and pointed the gun at her just as there was the long, loud bursts of a .50 caliber machine gun outside, from up on the roof and she flinched.
Then I heard the high whistle of spinning turbines a split second before G.W. came crashing through the fireplace and into the house. Bricks pelted everyone who was standing, including Jennings, and they all fell in a big, tangled pile.
It took a moment for anyone to move and the only sound was the ec
ho of the crash traveling back and forth through the house. I looked around at everyone in our group and everyone was conscious but Kara, one thick strand of her black hair hanging across her face, head down and a trickle of blood coming from a knot on her forehead.
Jennings was the first one up and he grabbed Stephanie and ran for the front of the house and out of sight through the settling cloud of dust. The door of the truck opened and DeMarkus jumped down.
"What'd you do to my truck, man?" Dave asked, still hogtied on the floor.
"I thought I heard a gunshot." DeMarkus explained as he pulled a small folding knife from his pocket and started cutting Dave free.
"That's all right, Driver. You done good." Dave said as Spider got to his feet, still disoriented.
They had not tied him up because he was unconscious and I guess the crash of the truck was enough to wake him. He grabbed Kara by the ropes around her wrist and lifted her off the couch just as she started to rouse. He then threw her over his shoulder, dizzy almost stumbling. I felt like I should be the one saving her but decided it wasn't the time to be petty. But who's to say he was trying to save her? Maybe he just saw this as his chance to get what he wanted.
Once DeMarkus had freed Dave, he started on me and Dave went to retrieve his hatchet from the interrogation room. DeMarkus stopped for a moment and noticed everyone in the room, slowly getting to their feet and staring in shock. "Well?!" He shouted, looking like madman with his bulging eyes and parted, gray afro. "If y'all don't want to be zombie shit, I suggest you move!" he said then continued cutting me free.
Dave was looking outside between the truck and the hole it had made in the wall. "Will the truck still move?"
"I don't know. It stalled out when I hit the wall." DeMarkus replied just as he got the last of the rope off my ankles. As he began to free Beth, I took a deep breath, picked myself up and went after Kara, pushing through the crowd that was now squeezing out the front door.
I was passing the huge concrete fountain as Spider was almost to the front gate, Kara still over his shoulder. She had passed back out and her head hung limp, her long, black hair swaying in the evening breeze.
"Spider!" I shouted as I caught myself from falling on the edge of the fountain. "Stop!"
He turned around and glared at me just as the .50 started firing on the roof again along with two other assault rifles.
"I told you I was gonna kill you. Don't look like I'm gone get to." He said then turned and walked out the gate. I tried to follow and the pain forced me to my knees.
"Dane!" I heard Dave yell from the front door. "We've got the truck moving, lets go!"
I was on my knees, doubled over in pain, my body protecting itself and I couldn't speak. I just pointed to Spider and Kara as they crossed the road and disappeared into the woods.
"We'll pick 'em up on the road. Come on." The remnants of Magnolia Ridge were going out of the gate now, quickly helping each other along as Dave pulled me to my feet.
In that moment, being half-carried into the house, I was obsessed with finding her and wondered if I ever would or if I would be out and about one day and her half-naked corpse would come walking up with its throat slit and I'd have to put her down. There was a 50/50 chance I supposed.
Back in the house, the dead were trying to squeeze themselves through the gap between the truck and the wall and slowly succeeding. DeMarkus was pulling them in and bashing their skulls with a bat as they came through. He didn't look frightened or even out of breath. He looked more like a worker on an assembly line, pulling product out as it came down the conveyor and giving it the final stamp of approval.
"Where's Beth?" I asked hoarsely.
"She's in the truck with the boy." Dave answered.
"And Nicholas?" I asked and Dave just stared at me.
"He went after Jennings." He said and I turned to go after them. "We don't have time!" He shouted. "This wall's not gonna hold for long and if they go around the front..."
"Lock the door then." I barked and continued up the stairs. As I climbed I heard the gunfire on the roof had stopped. I turned into the corridor at the top of the last flight of stairs and I found myself face to face with Stephanie. Jennings was right behind her and grabbed her wrist, yanking her back into his grasp and putting the pistol to her temple. There were long black streaks down her cheeks from her mascara.
I guess it was his instinct to take her hostage instead of just shooting me but after a moment it did occur to him. It occurred to me first though and I stepped back into the stairwell before he could shoot. I bumped into Dave who had finally decided to help.
"He's got her right around the corner." I whispered to him.
"Where's the old man?"
"I don't know, maybe shot."
There was a sudden thud on the roof followed by a lot of commotion.
"You can't save her." Jennings said. "But you can still save him if you hurry."
"He still got a gun?" Dave whispered.
"Why do you think I'm standing here?"
"They're coming around the front now." Jennings shouted. "We can all die in here or you can let her live."
"He's looking out the window in his room." I whispered to Dave as the commotion on the roof ended then started again, further down toward the open window. "I don't think he knows you're here. I'll run by and go help Nicholas. When he comes around the corner..."
"I'll cut him down." Dave said.
"Yeah."
I took a deep breath and made a run for it, praying he wouldn't shoot me when I passed his open door. I heard a pop but wasn't shot and quickly turned the corner and stepped out the window, onto the roof. There was Nicholas, choking the last bit of life out of a man.
He was bleeding from cuts and abrasions around his eyes and a split in both lips. There was a knot just above the corner of his brow and another on his jaw. One sleeve was torn halfway off at the shoulder of his shirt and his forearms were clawed and bleeding from his elbows to his wrists like he had had an accident with a roll of barbwire. There was another man, dead, on the roof some ten feet away and a section of railing missing from the catwalk where a third had been thrown off.
There was another pop from inside and he finally released the strangled man, stood and without saying a word, limped past me and back into the attic. It was apparent that the last twenty years of rage were finally being released, no kind woman's touch to contain it.
There was no sign of Jennings in the hallway but I could hear Dave groaning in the stairwell. There was blood splatter on the wall and Dave was sitting on the stairs holding his right arm with his left hand, high on the bicep, blood filing up his right palm and dropping off the hatchet. Nicholas passed him right by and proceeded after Jennings, following a trail of blood.
"He shot me in the arm." Dave said. "But I got him in the leg pretty good. I think he got the artery though, pull my belt off."
I reached down and pulled his belt off. He had already drilled holes in it all the way to a few inches from the buckle. Then I wrapped it around his arm, high into the armpit and tightened it down as he groaned against the pain.
"Let's get to the truck." He said and swapped the hatchet to his left hand as he stood and we proceeded down the stairs.
When we made it to the bottom, the front door was wide open and there was blood smeared on the knob. Through the open door I could see Jennings limping to the front gate, with Stephanie's help, and Nicholas closing in fast. There was a crowd of dead coming from their left, around the corner of the house and a few more outside the gate, eating some of the residents who had fled moments earlier. Nicholas was so focused on Jennings that he didn't see the dead coming near or just didn't care.
Suddenly, I heard the sound of drywall cracking, bricks falling and nails pulling out of wood. I looked toward the truck and the wall on one side was giving way, the dead coming through faster than DeMarkus could kill them. Dave joined in, with the hatchet in his left hand, holding his injured arm close to his side.
<
br /> "Come on!" Dave shouted. "Now!"
I looked back out the front door just in time to hear the all too familiar pop of the Beretta and saw Stephanie fall away from Jennings, holding her side, blood already oozing out between her fingers. He gave her a kick to distance himself, almost falling over, and stumbled out the gate.
The dead who were near enough fell on her, their mouths open wide, covering her till all I could see were her feet sticking out of the pile of rotting bodies. She screamed, high and shrill, over and over, crying and wailing between every breath until she couldn't anymore. My blood ran cold as her feet kept moving for a moment, trying to push herself out from under the pile. In moments they stopped and I was entranced by the jerking motion of her feet as the rest of her body was torn away and devoured, from the knees up.
Just as Nicholas neared the pile, another one tried to grab him. He shoved it down with a one handed palm to the forehead and it fell, flat on its back. As it started to stand it noticed Stephanie's legs sticking out from under the pile and grabbed one. It pulled hard one time and the leg came out from the knee down, dripping bits of flesh and tendon hanging off the bone.
As Nicholas headed out the gate after Jennings and through the five or six small piles of dead who were busy eating, a few of them broke off from their meals to follow. I wanted to go after him but as I stepped out the door with Dave still shouting behind me, his voice like it was coming through water, part of the herd turned and started toward me. I stepped back, in a slow-motion daze, and closed the door.
"Let's go!" Dave shouted and his voice became clearer to me.
I think my conscious mind had gone numb for a moment while my subconscious tried to sort out all the emotions of what I had just witnessed. In a split second, they had all been packed into boxes and tucked away somewhere to be taken out and dealt with later.
As I ran into the living room, the entire wall, from floor to ceiling, was buckling and bowing inward from the dead pushing at it from the outside. DeMarkus was standing in front of the dozer blade and Dave to his right, in front of the couch, both swinging and chopping at the steady stream of dead that were squeezing through the gap in the wall. They must've had thirty or forty bodies piled in front of them and around them. They were backing their way to the passenger side of the truck as the driver door was now unreachable.
