He followed the direction of her gaze and the black smoke on the horizon filled him with sudden dread. It drifted to non-existence and he felt his breath catch—his heart stop.
He was in motion before he could even begin to consider what to do, his body taking the initiative all on its own. He had a firm grip on the handle bars of one of their quads and had a foot over it before he noticed that his wife was hopping onto one of her own. She had put her phone away and was preparing to join him.
“No, you need to stay here,” he told her flatly. He was fighting back the panic and tried to keep his voice from trembling as he spoke.
“Are we seriously going to go through this again? Our daughter is out there!” Monica yelled at him, starting the quad and inching forward.
“Someone has to stay behind to close the gate,” he told her firmly, not wanting to give an inch. He wanted to get moving, every second counted in a moment like this; and he hated having to argue with his wife over it.
She was shaking her head at him. “Sam’s here, she can shut the gate. There’s nothing that you can say to make me stay here, get over it. Lucy is on her way and you are going to need the extra quad to help ferry them back,” she told him furiously, as if not even considering that there might not be anyone left to bring back. “Look, I’m not arguing with you, my daughter needs me,” she said as she rode over to the gate and begin the process of opening it.
Sam caught his eyes and mouthed good luck.
He nodded back, then gunned the engine, passing through the gate just as it opened wide enough for him to get through.
His anger at his wife was not helping things at the moment and he tried to reason himself out of it. How could he ask her to stay when he couldn’t bring himself to do it either?
He knew that Sam could handle shutting the gates, he hadn’t forgotten that she was there. It had just been his attempt to keep Monica from going out there with him; a need to protect her if things were as bad as his heart told him they were.
He did not want her seeing whatever remained of the fallen Huey.
There were no paths north and they had to be on constant guard against getting in an accident themselves. He wanted to go faster, but the terrain wouldn’t let him. It would do nobody any good for them to die trying to get there, so he backed down as much as he could manage and tried to stay ahead of his wife at the same time, no way was he going to let her get there first. He needed to shield her as much as he could in case his worst fears had become reality.
Racing in the direction of the fallen helicopter, he twisted the gas, surging forward, praying the entire time that he was wrong and it wasn’t a funeral pyre they were racing too. If it was, then God help Ben, because Monica was going to kill him.
Chapter 25
Militia
Rosilynn
Coronado National Forest, AZ
The pain in her legs brought her back to consciousness, deciding that she had been gone from the world long enough.
The front end of the chopper was buried in the earth and dirt was drifting onto her through the broken window. She had been able to slow their descent some in those last few seconds, but it hadn’t been enough.
The fact that she was still breathing was a miracle in itself.
However, as she leaned her head forward, she suddenly got dizzy and nausea had her throwing up within seconds. She was unable to twist her body and fear grew in her heart. As she wiped her mouth, she wiggled her toes and sighed in relief when they responded. She hadn’t broken her back, but that didn’t mean that severe damage hadn’t been done. If she moved the wrong way, it could make it worse.
Her pinned legs wouldn’t give an inch of leverage and when she raised her head to look around, she caught sight of the slumped body of her husband.
“Matt!” she called; her throat raspy and not issuing much more than a moan.
She remembered that he had been shot and only the rise and fall of his chest indicated that he was still with her. She tried to reach for him, but her legs kept her right where she was. She was panicking, and this time she was unable to control it.
She had to get free, she had to get to him; he might be dying at that very moment.
She glanced to the rear of the chopper and her breathing came to a halt.
The man that they had picked up back in Springerville must have suffered a fatal blow upon impact; there was a large gaping wound in the man’s neck and she prayed that it was the source of the gore splattered all across the back cabin. He was bent over the make shift stretcher they had made for Paul and was currently eating the flesh of the poor man’s stomach. An intestine was in his bloody hands and he seemed content to feast on their dead friend; ignoring the rest of them.
John was slumped against the back of the pilot seat, only his legs visible from her point of view. Michelle was somewhere behind her and she had no clue what the girl’s condition was. All she knew was that she had to quietly find her weapon before that thing back there noticed the rest of them and decided to have dessert.
The Huey was slightly leaning forward, its nose buried, and the force of the impact must have thrown her sword from her lap and down under her feet. She reached for her waist and fumbled at her gun. Her body was pinched and she was having an issue getting it free. The sounds of the monster behind her eating her friend was sickening and she fought the urge to vomit once more.
The fact that the man John had risked their lives to save might end up killing them all was not lost on her and when it was all over she’d make sure he knew it too.
She was finally able to free the gun and as she tried to maneuver enough to take aim, her right foot shifted and something slid across the floor beneath her. The sound made the bearded zombie look in her direction and their eyes caught.
“Fuck me,” she whispered as she tried to squeeze the trigger; nothing happened.
Fuck, the safety.
The zombie lunged in her direction, at the exact same moment the sliding door on the Huey opened, and a gunshot thundered in the enclosed space. The man was thrown against the side of the chopper, his head exploding across the window on the other side and out through the shattered glass.
Her heart was pounding in her chest and she was elated by the idea that someone from the compound had come to rescue them.
“Well what do we have here?” came an unknown voice and suddenly the hope that she felt died away as fear began to fill her instead. The chopper shifted as the man climbed in and she saw his shadow moving around just out of sight. Should she say something or just stay quiet?
Then he was suddenly there, looking straight into her eyes and her blood turned cold. “Hey there,” he said and then grinned.
The man was dressed in army fatigues and wore a black cap with a burning flag on it; the American flag. He had a sidearm and was holding a Remington 700; a rifle she recognized because a friend of theirs preferred to use it on the job—he was a sniper for SWAT.
“Kind of rude not to say hi back, ain’t it?” the man probed again. He looked to the left at her husband and his smile grew wider. “Well I’ll be damn, nailed the fucker.”
What?
“You shot us?” she asked, speaking before she could stop herself. Had this man brought them down, caused this mess? What the fuck was going on?
“You fucking military people, think you run the world, don’t you? That you can fuck with people’s lives and nothing happens to you? Well guess what? This is your fucking wake up call,” the man sneered. He was young, maybe twenty-five, with short cropped hair and mild beard growth from a couple of days of not shaving.
His brown eyes bore into her and she shivered at the hate mirrored within.
“We’re not military,” she groaned, her head was pounding and it was getting hard to focus. Maybe she had hit her head when they crashed? Now that the rush of near death at the hands of that bearded zombie had passed, her adrenaline was lowering and her mind was becoming hazy.
She fought against
it; she wasn’t going to just leave them in the hands of this fucking maniac.
His eyes dropped to the gun she was still holding and he quickly reached forward and snatched it from her. “You won’t be needing that,” he said as it disappeared from sight. “No use lying you know. I thought for sure that I was shooting those fuckers down that had gotten away earlier, but your being here just proves my point; there is a military base operating in these mountains and we’re going to find it and destroy it.”
“We?” she asked, worried that others were out there out of sight, just waiting to finish what this lunatic had started.
The man smiled again. “You bet, you didn’t think I was out here on my own, did you? Fucking military people, think you know everything.”
“We are not in the military, you fucking asshole,” she growled back, getting some of her fight back in her. If she wasn’t pinned like this, she’d wipe that fucking grin off his face. “We are survivors of the shit going on out there. We don’t know where the military is or what they’re fucking doing; we are just trying to reach our friends.”
“Oh right,” the man countered, “cuz survivors just fly around in military helicopters packing serious heat.”
She shook her head in frustration. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Those guys earlier, the ones that rescued that fucktard I was chasing, they were Seals and were packing some serious hardware. You can’t lie your way out of this. Once my friends get here, we’re going to take you back to our camp, then we’re going to discuss the location of your secret base,” the man winked.
“Are you out of your mind? Look around you. Do you see military uniforms? Are we carrying military issued weapons? Do we look in any way like armed forces?” she raged. Her right leg was inching free and she felt hope that she might be able to free herself if he kept him distracted long enough.
The man sighed. “Keep up the act; it won’t do you any good. That man right there is military, I can tell just by looking at him,” he said, motioning towards her husband.
“You’re right, he was in the military. He served in Iraq, but he is out now. That is my husband that you shot you fucking asshole. And the girl on your right? She’s all of seventeen, does she look like a Seal to you? Have you bothered looking around? That’s a sheriff’s deputy on your left, not some member of a secret military task force,” she roared on, inching her right leg free and stretching it.
If only she could get her left unpinned, but try as she might—it wouldn’t budge. She might have to use her hands to free herself, but he was watching her closely and would likely see that.
“I’m an ER nurse in Las Vegas and my husband is injured. I need to assess and treat his wound before he bleeds out,” she told him, not liking the pale color her husband’s face was becoming. From what her memory could recall, the shot shouldn’t have gone through any vital organs, so he should be fine, but she needed to keep the man distracted as her hands went to work.
The man was actually taking a look at the others in the back of the downed Huey now and she could see the confusion on the young man’s face. She put pressure on the dash of the wreckage pinning her down and felt hope as her left leg budged. “That little girl is in high school, junior year. She hasn’t had a chance to live yet and you might have just killed her.”
“She’s breathing, calm down,” the man responded, but he didn’t sound so sure of himself any more. “This has got to be a trick; you were making a pick up. Maybe the guy back here was a scientist and this is his daughter and you were bringing him to that base of yours.”
She could tell that he was trying to convince himself of that bullshit and she didn’t know what it would take to finally convince him of the truth. Should she even try? The moment she was free, she was going for Matt’s rifle and she was going to fucking kill the man.
“No, the helicopter you’re flying in is proof enough. Why would Civs be using a military Huey?” he asked, reinforcing his own delusions.
“We bought it from a boneyard in Tucson, fixed it up ourselves. You’re right, we do have a base, but it’s not military. We prepared for all of this—for the world ending. Looks like we didn’t prepare enough,” she muttered, wondering if anyone had thought of some asshole shooting them down with a sniper rifle.
If they did, where was she during that conversation?
“Doomsday preppers?” he asked as if the idea had never occurred to him. The man was so convinced that they were military that he seemed confused by any other alternative. “No fucking way. You can stop trying to get free now. My friends should be on their way soon. We’ll sort this out when they get here.”
He didn’t sound as confident as before and she thought she might have heard a touch of remorse in his voice.
Regardless of what he said, she didn’t stop trying to get free; Matt needed her.
In the distance, she heard the sound of approaching vehicles. The man must have heard them as well because he suddenly dropped from view and the Huey shifted as he jumped out.
She heard a moan from behind her and desperately she tried to call out to Michelle, praying that she was coming around. She had to get to Matt, his breathing was still regular, but that could change at any moment. She wouldn’t lose him now; not after everything they went through.
To die within half a mile of the compound, with the walls right there just out of reach, was too much. She shoved with all her strength and her leg leapt free.
She almost screamed with triumph.
Chapter 26
Snowball
Robert
Safford, AZ
Not knowing the area, they had to rely on the road signs to keep them going in the right direction. There were a few side streets, but for all he knew they ended in dead ends, and that would mean lost time in catching up with his prey.
They had begun their trip into town with little activity, but as they neared the city’s heart, that had changed. It was a quaint little town, set up in a simplistic manner that reflected a center, then outward building style. The more stylish homes were on the outskirts of the city and as you made your way in you saw old fashioned architecture here and there, spotted with the occasional Circle K and Dairy Queen.
He stood on the walkway in front of the Circle K; watching his people gas up their vehicles. A few stood sentry around the parking lot, keeping a look out for any signs of danger. Raleigh stood at his side, his towering frame hovering.
He ignored him; at this point, there wasn’t much to say.
Occasionally the big man would go back inside and turn the pumps on for the next car, but other than that he was content to stand there eating a box of Twinkies.
“I don’t get the fixation with that shit,” he finally said, motioning to the box in the large man’s hands. “They do actually expire, you know.”
Raleigh only shook his head, white and yellow showing through his grin. “I don’t know, ever since they came back, they just seem to taste better.”
“That’s all in your head,” he growled. “Why not eat a Snowball?”
The reference was lost on the big guy and he sighed heavily; Todd would have gotten it.
That thought made his anger rise—Todd. His hatred from the man was growing the longer he stewed about it. The sight of his young daughter, her face distorted into the monster she had become, kept coming to mind anytime he thought of the man; he would pay for what he had done.
Or hadn’t done in this case.
Would it have been that hard to post something on Facebook? He posted about everything else that happened in his life down to what the fuck he was having for dinner. But it had never occurred to him to post that the world was ending? How did that work out? Here’s what I eat, hope you get eaten? It didn’t mesh and he was going to make sure he beat that point into Todd when next they saw each other.
“Things are quieter now,” Raleigh observed.
He nodded in response, his eyes searching and always calculating, tryin
g to push his anger away; it wasn’t working too well. He tried to keep his thoughts to himself after that debacle at Caesar’s apartment. His people needed to see him calm and collected, in charge of himself.
He felt anything but—and he couldn’t let them see that.
When they had come into town there had been a large host of abandoned cars across the middle of the highway. There were a few zombies foraging through them, eating occupants that had been too stupid to get out of their damn vehicles. He and his men had dispatched them quietly, using knives and bats, trying not to draw attention by firing their weapons.
The zombies lacked real intelligence, for if they had grouped together and come at them in force, things might have gone differently. But as it was, they were content to come at them one at a time and rarely noticed the dispatching of one of their own; as focused as they were on what they were doing themselves.
It was a weakness that he was happy to exploit.
If anyone else was alive around here, they were hunkered down in their houses. He had caught movement a short time ago in a window across the street, but no one had come out to greet them.
That was fine; he didn’t want to waste time on another useless mouth to feed.
That reminded him of something. “Did you feed her?” he asked the big guy, motioning to his truck. Marisol was still bound up in the back and was currently laying down—out of sight.
“Yeah, but she bit me,” Raleigh replied, blushing.
Hard to imagine she’d have a hard time missing with those big ass hands of his.
“I don’t hear her screaming,” he observed, probing. There had to be more than that judging by the large man’s color. He may be big, but he was too soft. If he didn’t get to growing up, he wouldn’t last long out here.
“I hit her, then taped her back up,” Raleigh said, sounding embarrassed.
He shook his head in wonderment. All the things they had seen and the guy was fretting about that.
“Can’t we just let her go? Why do we need her?” the larger man pursued, looking nervous.
The Rotting Souls Series (Book 2): Charon's Blight: Day Two Page 15
