Camp Zero (Book 3): State of Decay

by Jack Hunt

  There were at least five armed men keeping watch.

  They were guided into what would have been the dining area for guests. There had to have been close to twenty people seated in different areas. It was a mixed bag of ages.

  A man stood by the bar area, he was pouring out a glass of bourbon. He had on a thick leather jacket with a patch on the back. His hair was long and a bandanna was wrapped around his forehead. He twisted and Aaron told them to wait. He went over to the man who was observing them. Flames from candles flickered casting shadows on the walls.

  The man downed his drink, slid his AR off the counter and came over.

  “Aaron tells me you guys are locals.”

  Sam nodded.

  “How come I didn’t see you around town before this shit happened?”

  Sam looked at Aaron, then back at him.

  “We left after the explosions and the initial assault. A year ago.”

  He stared back blankly and then broke into laughter. “Well, you picked a fine time to return.”

  He cast a gaze over the others.

  “And you are?” Sam asked.

  “Thomas Darby,” he said as he turned back to the bar. “Come, you guys want a drink?”

  “Hell yeah,” Luke said waltzing over as though he was about to continue his drinking session.

  “I think you’ve had enough,” Sam said placing his hand on Luke’s chest. Luke smacked his hand out of the way.

  “You want to do this here?”

  “Luke, enough,” Ally said.

  Thomas looked back as if trying to determine whether there was a problem.

  Luke shook his head and walked away, pulling out his cigarettes in the process.

  “Problem?” Thomas asked.

  “Nothing we can’t handle.”

  Sam wandered over to the bar and Thomas poured him a glass. He tossed it back to calm his nerves. His hands were still shaking.

  “You part of some biker gang?”

  “Was. Most of my buddies died. Those of us that survived headed north, we were passing through, planning on spending the night when this happened.”

  Aaron pulled up a chair. “Thomas and the others helped those that you see around you.”

  “How did it make its way here?”

  “That’s the part we’re still trying to figure out. Up until a week ago everything was normal, well, as normal as could be since a year ago. It was difficult but we were managing as a community. Everyone pulled together and helped plant crops and gather resources from towns in the area. We might have made it if it hadn’t been for this.”

  The muffled sound of a scream could be heard, Sam immediately grabbed his gun.

  “It’s okay, they can’t get in here. At least they haven’t since we got here.”

  Sam placed his rifle back on the bar.

  “Why did you return?” Aaron asked.

  Sam brought him up to speed on what had taken place over the past year. It was hard to imagine that a year had gone by and the nation was no closer to being stable and with the new virus spreading faster than anything before, it was unlikely that would change. Other countries would look to protect their own first and with no wall to keep the infected contained, it would only be a matter of time before it spread into Canada, Mexico and further afield.

  13

  Not everyone slept well that night. Sam got less than three hours of sleep. When he pried open his eyes, a rush of memories bombarded his mind. The faces of the insane, the state of Tom and the near-death experience in the stairwell. He breathed in deeply and rolled off the mattress. Billy and Corey had slept in the same room on the floor. No one wanted to sleep alone. The ever-present sound of the insane screaming outside had made it that much harder to relax. If it hadn’t been for the alcohol he would have been staring at the ceiling until dawn arrived.

  Surprisingly there had been no attempts by any to enter the lower half of the hotel. The group explained they had been there for just over a week. If it hadn’t been for the fact that the hotel was joined to three other buildings, some of which contained canned food, they would have had to leave long before that.

  Sam had spent several hours talking to Aaron and Thomas Darby about the military presence in town. They didn’t even know the military had arrived. They had heard gunfire but had not dared venture out. Sam was confident with the additional manpower that they could make it back to the lumberyard that morning but Thomas didn’t seem keen on leaving.

  Corey raised his head and glanced over to Sam who was now perched on the end of the bed.

  “Did we survive last night or is this hell?”

  He slumped back down and let out a groan which woke Billy. Billy’s reaction to waking up wasn’t as peaceful. The moment his eyelids popped open he jumped up like a jack-in-the-box and gripped his gun tightly.

  “You’re safe,” Sam said trying to reassure him.

  He exhaled. “That was one hell of a night.” Billy wandered over to the side table and unscrewed a bottle of whiskey. There was a small amount left. He chugged it back and coughed hard. “That’s better.” He looked at the two of them. “Well get up, we have to get out of here. After what happened last night, I don’t plan on going through another evening. Now we have Tom we can leave.”

  With that said he ambled into the bathroom and peed in the toilet.

  “There’s no running water.”

  “Shit!”

  “Yeah, you better not be taking one as we might be here for another night,” Corey said.

  Bill poked his head around the corner. “Like hell we are.”

  Corey got up and slipped into his jacket. “You heard what Stigers said. There’s even more now in the day. If it is anything like last night, we will be lucky to make it two blocks.”

  Billy zipped up and came out. “The way I see it, we head back to the church and wait for Michaels to show.”

  Corey snorted. “You think he’s coming back after abandoning us? I think not.”

  “He was instructed to do that.”

  “Right,” Corey said tapping him on the chest as he passed by. “You keep on telling yourself that.”

  “I will. It’s the truth. Ain’t that right, Sam?”

  Sam was standing by the window peering out from behind furniture they had butted up against the glass. Outside the road was clear and there were no screams to be heard but that didn’t mean they weren’t out there. Waiting. Biding their time until they stepped foot outside.

  All three of them wandered out into the hallway and made their way down to the lobby. The smell of food wafted through the air. It wasn’t exactly mama’s home cooking, more like hobo’s stovetop beans, but it was something. They just hoped there was enough to go around. Some of the men by the doors and windows offered a nod before returning to peering out. That was their life now. Constantly being on the alert. Those who had been up through the night would now sleep and the cycle would continue. They were operating much like Hayden. It wasn’t ideal but it worked and kept everyone sane.

  It was just a little after eight.

  Aaron was sitting on one side of a group of tables that been pushed together so that people could talk. The area that once would have been filled with a continental breakfast was bare, however Sam spotted a couple of guys in the kitchen.

  “Sam,” Aaron said, motioning them to come over. Beside him was Luke. He looked up from a bowl of beans and glared.

  “How’s the head?” Billy said, slumping down beside him.

  “Don’t even ask.”

  He was no doubt suffering from a serious hangover by the look on his face, and perhaps a serious case of guilt.

  “Is that coffee I smell?” Corey asked.

  “That’s one thing that there is an abundance of,” Aaron replied. “Boxes and boxes of coffee sachets.”

  Corey took a seat across from him and Sam pulled out a chair.

  “That’s what I think I have noticed about this apocalypse. Everything tastes better. I mean, you
don’t get much, so the little you do get you appreciate more. Even shit coffee tastes like it was served up by some fancy barista.” He looked down the table. “So how does this work?”

  “Simple. You get off your ass and go get it,” Billy muttered with a grin on his face.

  Corey picked up an empty cup and plate and headed off in the direction of the kitchen.

  “How did you sleep?” Aaron asked.

  Sam rubbed the back of his neck and shifted in his seat. “Compared to?”

  Aaron chuckled. The truth was sleep was a luxury. You grabbed it when you could because you never knew if you were going to be awake for twenty-four hours. Shit could go sideways real fast and last night was proof of that.

  “So what’s on the agenda?” Aaron asked.

  “We are going to head back to the lumberyard. They were planning to leave in less than forty-eight hours. I’m thinking that’s our ticket out of here. Catch a ride back to our truck in the armored vehicle and return to Hayden. You should come.”

  Aaron sipped at his coffee and glanced around the room. “We lost a lot of people over the past week. Getting people inside was a big enough job. I’m not sure we’re going to be able to convince them to leave. There are elderly, young kids, expectant mothers.”

  “Just tell them it’s time to check out,” Billy joked before reaching into Luke’s bowl and snagging a bean.

  “Next time you do that I will stab you with my fork,” Luke said.

  “Ease up.”

  Sam gave Billy a kick under the table and he shot him a glance. That was all it took.

  “I’m going to get my own.”

  His chair screeched as he pushed it back and ambled to the kitchen.

  “You not hungry?” Aaron asked.

  “I tend to lose my appetite when I have a lot on my mind.”

  “We have enough supplies to last a while. Hopefully if the military are showing up in towns, maybe it won’t be long before they contain this situation. Anyway, after breakfast, I want to show you something.”

  Sam went and helped himself to coffee. He didn’t eat but stuffed his pocket with a granola bar for later. While he was filling up his cup, Ally came up beside him. She nudged him with her elbow.

  “Hey you.” She smiled.

  “How’s Tom?”

  “Several of the women here were able to treat his wounds. He should be okay. He wants to speak to you.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Room five.”

  Kiera strolled over and grabbed a cup. The sound of chatter filled the room, and though everyone knew the dangers that lurked outside, the overall morale of survivors was positive. No one was moping around feeling sorry for themselves. Having already been through an incident before this, in many ways they were adjusting to the unexpected pretty well.

  “Luke and Billy were saying they are leaving in a few hours.”

  Sam cast a glance over his shoulder at Luke. “We’ll see.”

  Once he had a coffee, he grabbed one more for Tom and headed off to his room. He passed by several folks he recognized from around town. They smiled at him and one even gave him a pat on the back and said it was good to see him. When he reached Tom’s room, he eased the door open.

  “Brought you coffee.”

  Tom was laid on a bed talking to a woman who was bathing his skin. She said she would return later and exited the room. Tom sat up and Sam set the coffee on the side table.

  “Thanks.”

  Sam leaned back against the wall, with one foot up against it.

  “You’re looking better. I mean, for someone who’s had the crap beaten out of them.”

  “I don’t feel it,” he grimaced reaching for his cup. “I’ve been meaning to thank you for coming. I know you took a lot of flak for making that call.”

  Sam frowned.

  “Ally told me,” said Tom.

  “Oh, right.”

  Tom took a sip of his drink and winced. It couldn’t have been easy to swallow a hot drink with some of his teeth missing. It looked painful. The bruising on his face wasn’t looking any better but the swelling would eventually go down.

  “You up to leave today?”

  He stared back at Sam blankly. “Um. That’s the thing. My father is still out there.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He set his coffee down. “When I made that call to you over the ham radio. I didn’t do it on my own volition. Bryan Catz forced me to make contact.”

  “Bryan?”

  “This whole thing is because of him.”

  “I don’t follow?”

  Tom sighed and readjusted his position on the bed. The gray covers came up to his waist. He had the typical barbed wire tattoo around his left bicep that was often seen. He rubbed his bruises.

  “Before all this started, things were normal, in that the community was doing its best to work together. We had meetings in City Hall every week. Everyone attended and discussed important matters. You know, if there were any areas that needed attention, it could be addressed and then assigned to certain individuals. My father never showed up one evening. When I returned home, the front door was ajar. The lock had been broken and the entire place was trashed. There was a note left on the counter in my dad’s handwriting telling me to get to the church. Naturally, I panicked. I thought we were experiencing another attack.” He paused to take a drink. “When I arrived, it was quiet and the back door was ajar. I entered expecting to see my father…” he trailed off.

  “And?”

  “He was tied to a chair. They had beaten him to the point that he was unconscious. Initially I didn’t see anyone else in the room. I immediately began untying him. Once I pulled the rag from his mouth, that’s when I saw him. Bryan Catz and five other skinheads came out of the shadows. They had closed the front and back doors.” Tom breathed in deeply. His eyes shifted to the window as if he was reliving it. He continued.

  “Do you believe in monsters, Tom?” Bryan said.

  “Get the fuck back.”

  Bryan laughed. “Oh, we aren’t going to harm you, Tommy boy. No, in fact, I want you to live. I’m going to make this real quick. Where is Sam Frost?”

  Tom snorted. “He left over a year ago.”

  “Where?”

  “Some bunker in Northern Idaho but he’s not there anymore.”

  “Well? Where is he?”

  Tom scanned the tattooed faces of his pals. “He’s in some town called Hayden. Why?”

  Bryan sniffed, spat on the floor and then cracked his neck from side to side.

  “Your old man, before he went unconscious said you had a ham radio that you’re using. You’re going to use it to get in contact with him.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  Bryan came close to the point Tom could feel his breath against his face. He clicked his fingers and two of his pals disappeared out back. They returned with what looked like a man on a heavy-duty trolley that movers might use. He wore no shirt and there was blood all over his chest. Covering his face was a brown potato bag. His arms, ankles and legs were bound with thick chains that wrapped around the trolley itself. They wheeled it out and placed it nearby. Tom took a few steps back but was pushed forward by the other three skinheads.

  “Take off the bag,” he instructed one of his men. They used what looked like a pair of BBQ tongs to pinch a corner before lifting. The second it was ripped off, Tom’s eyes widened. It thrashed around and was frothing at the mouth. Spilling over its lips was a mixture of black and dark red blood.

  “What the hell?”

  Bryan chuckled. “Meet Wes. Now Wes used to be like you and me until he contracted some kind of disease. It’s happening to everyone. Fuck knows how. You see that shit he’s spewing from his mouth. If that lands on your skin, you become like him.”

  Bryan turned and gestured to his pals. They grabbed a hold of Tom and began pushing him towards Wes. Tom tried pushing back but they just began laying into him. When they had brought him within a sho
rt distance, they pushed his face down. The guy’s boot was covered in blood that had trickled out of his mouth. They kept pressing his face closer to it.

  “Now are we going to have a problem?” Bryan asked.

  Tom shook his head in fear. He cowered back and they finally released him.

  “What about my father?”

  “He’ll stay here for now. When you’ve made contact, maybe I’ll release him. Hell, maybe I’ll just let Wes have some fun.”

  “Bastard.”

  “What was that?” Bryan cupped his hand to his ear and came close to Tom. Then, in an instant he struck him, once then twice and all five of his buddies began laying down a beating on him. When they broke his teeth with a kick to the face, Bryan pulled out a box cutter and brought it close.

  “Don’t ever call me that.”

  He turned back to Sam and squeezed his eyes shut. “That’s when he did this.” He motioned with his head to all the cuts that were now scabbed over.

  Sam stared at him, able to comprehend it. The last person that had called Bryan a bastard was put in intensive care. The fact that Tom was still breathing was a miracle in itself. Catz had a similar upbringing to Sam. They had both been in the system for one reason or another. The issues were deeply rooted in their childhood and closely associated to their father, or lack of.

  “And your father?”

  Tom’s eyes cast down. “They still have him.”

  “He’s still alive?”

  “They took him as insurance. They were meant to be there when you showed up but they had headed out that morning. They didn’t return. I don’t know if he’s dead or alive.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Help me find him.”

  14

  The very notion was absurd. Sam was all for helping but it was a simple matter of weighing risk and after everything they had just been through, it would have been ludicrous to stay.

  “You want us to stick around and search for your father?”

  “He’s still out there, and so is Bryan.”

  “You can’t be sure of that. For all we know they have been turned into one of the insane.”

  Tom pulled the covers back and eased his legs over the edge of the bed. That’s when Sam got a good look at Bryan’s handiwork. He had brutally tortured that kid. For what? Calling him a bastard. It might have seemed absurd to anyone else but after seeing what some of the skinheads did to those who disrespected them, he was lucky to have walked away alive. Then again, Bryan needed him alive as a means to lure Sam back. And yet that hadn’t worked well. Where was he?