Camp Zero (Book 3): State of Decay

by Jack Hunt

  Sam pulled the binoculars out and peered through them. He scanned the windows one by one looking for any signs of Bryan but there was nothing.

  “Perhaps the kid got it wrong.” Billy said. Corey was nursing the wound on his head and groaning.

  “How’s that head of yours?” Billy asked.

  “It’s my back. God, it’s in agony.”

  Billy elbowed Sam. “Let me have a look.”

  He took over with the binoculars while Sam sparked up a cigarette and went to the north end of the building to see if there was any movement in the stores across from them. Again there was nothing. He returned to the others.

  “Well, it was worth a try,” Corey said motioning for Sam to give him a puff of his cigarette. He handed it to him and then something caught his attention. At first he just thought it was one of the insane.

  “Give me the binoculars.”

  Billy handed them over and he peered through. That’s when he saw him. It wasn’t Bryan but it was Tom’s father. He was tied to a chair inside the brewery further back. That’s why he couldn’t spot him as he was partially out of sight.

  “There he is.”

  “What?”

  “Tom’s father.”

  Sam crouched at the edge of the building upon seeing a number of the insane come running up the street.

  “I don’t get it. Why wouldn’t they attempt to move? I mean they have got to have been there for days.”

  “It’s a bar. What do you think? Hell, if I had to be trapped in a building when the apocalypse kicked off, that would do me just fine. At least I wouldn’t have to think about how I was going to die.”

  Corey grimaced as he rubbed his back. He lifted up his shirt and there was a gnarly gash down the side from where one of the branches had torn into him. It was bleeding quite badly.

  “When were you going to tell us about that?” Billy asked.

  “I just found it.”

  Billy went over to him and took a look. He tore off a portion of his own shirt and tried to use it like a bandage. Corey looked at him like he was losing his mind. Was this the same guy? Even Sam was a little taken aback by that. And yet they had all come a long way in a year. They might have wound each other up but they knew they were stronger together.

  “I’m going down there.”

  “No. No, the whole point was to observe, not to go in. Go tonight.”

  “Oh right, because that would make sense. That’s when the streets are crowded.”

  “Look around you, Sam, they already are.”

  He was right to some degree. There were more of them than when they had first arrived. They were adapting to the environment and after seeing that one find them by scent, that could only mean they were evolving faster. The question was, into what?

  “Take Corey back. At least Ben’s place might have a first-aid kit.”

  “Are you kidding me? I didn’t fall out of a tree and get attacked to go back there looking like a bitch.”

  Billy snorted. “Trust me, returning without a scratch on you isn’t going to impress her.”

  “Who?”

  “What a guy,” Billy said. “You know who.”

  Sam was already making his way over to a wall that would take him to the next store down. From there he would drop down to a steel awning and head over to the brewery.

  “Sam, don’t you think we should tell the others?”

  “Go tell them, I’m going in.”

  “This is a bad idea.”

  “Have we ever had a good one?”

  The truth was, every day they were risking the chance of an early grave. There was no smart way to go about living. Holing up inside a building might have bought them time but eventually they would run out of food, water, ammo. All Sam could think about was Bryan and his involvement in starting this shit storm.

  Billy hollered. “And if he gets his hands on you?”

  “Then he’s going to have to kill me.”

  17

  Sam didn’t look back to see if Billy had listened to him. He hopped down from the roof onto an adjoining wall and scanned the area for the insane. They moved through the streets like packs of wolves ready to consume their prey.

  He checked the ammo in his rifle, swung it around his back and used both hands to ease himself down. Once on the ground he darted across the road and hugged the side of the building, moving quickly up the side towards the first door. There were three entrances: two on the west side and one on the corner. He went up the steps and slipped into the darkness of the doorway. Staying low he turned the handle ever so slowly and gave it a push but it didn’t open.

  Shit! He was about to walk away when he heard the sound of Bryan’s voice inside. He was telling one of his men to get him another beer. Fucking guy was getting loaded. At least that meant he would be slower. Sam stared back up to the roof where he had been. Perhaps he should have remained there for a few hours until he saw they were completely drunk or asleep? He was about to turn and go down the steps when four of the insane moved past. He froze in his crouched position. If even one of them saw him he would be dead. If not from them, from Bryan who would probably shoot him through the window. He willed his heartbeat to slow and remained as still as could be as the group moved past the doorway. Even the slightest sound would have given him away. For a moment he sat there with bated breath fully expecting them to turn and see him but they just kept on. He gave them a minute or two until they had reached Bank Street before he slipped out, down the steps and… No sooner had he stepped out when one of them looked back.

  It let out this high-pitched screech and all four of them turned and rushed forward. They were carrying wood and metal pipes. He launched himself around the corner of the building onto Hotel Street and began pounding the pavement to get away. He could have opened fire and he fully intended to once he’d put some distance between him and the building, but had he opened fire initially he would have attracted the attention of Bryan and his goons. As he ran, his mind drifted back to the time when he first met Bryan.

  It was not long after he entered Mount Pleasant MMA. That evening they were all gearing up to track down some guy that had beaten up one of their own and they’d invited Sam along. He wasn’t given much information; just that he would want to see this. It might change his mind about being part of their group. Six of them headed over to the town of Osburn to track down this kid who usually hung out at a local club. It was after dark when they arrived. When they got out of the truck and each of them grabbed a chain from the back, he knew it wasn’t going to end well.

  The club was a small building located at the far end of a residential area. It had been developed by a local church in order to get youth off the streets. They filled it with pool tables, a lounge area with a TV, and a snack bar. While they catered to churchgoers, it tended to attract all kinds. Some of which were a bad element.

  “So what’s this kid done?”

  “Him and three others stomped one of our own.”

  “Who?”

  “You know Jason Carlisle?”

  “What was he doing in their territory?”

  Bryan shot Sam a look. “Their territory? They don’t have any. It’s all ours. They think they are going to take over this neck of Idaho but they are in for a big surprise tonight.”

  Under the cover of night, they approached the small building. Music could be heard seeping out, and a small group of teens were milling around outside drinking pop. The moment they saw them, they got this wide-eyed look on their faces and walked away fast. They knew shit was about to go down. Sam could feel the excitement. It was new and there was something to being with these guys who didn’t take any shit.

  Bryan would be the first in the door. They had been discussing on the way over what they would do. Bryan would grab the guy and toss him on the pool table. A couple of the others would hold him there, one of them would stand at the door and then all hell was going to break loose. What they meant by that, Sam could only imagine. He hung b
ack behind them as they got closer.

  “Watch and learn, Frost.”

  The others laughed. On the way they had all been drinking beer, Bryan was the only one that had snorted drugs.

  Bryan kicked the door open. Inside there had to have been around fifteen people. Most were churchgoers, clean kids who wouldn’t have dared get in trouble.

  “Oh shit!” the guy known as Brock yelled. He was with two of his buddies. They both looked as terrified as him and tried to bolt towards the back exit.

  “Come here, you cunt!” Bryan said racing towards him. Brock tried to run but was quickly taken down by a chair that Bryan tossed at him from across the room. His buddies didn’t stand a chance either. The skinheads began unleashing a beating on them with the chains.

  Right then a man came out of an office.

  “Hey! Get out of here before I call the cops.”

  A guy in his forties who was obviously in charge of the place tried to intervene but a swift head butt to the face by one of them made him cower back. He shuffled into a corner with a bloody nose.

  Sam watched from the back of the room as Bryan pulled out a baton used by police and smashed it against Brock’s kneecap making him drop to the floor. He then yanked him up by both ears and threw him onto the pool table. He called over to four of his buddies to hold him down. He then proceeded to pull out a pillowcase from inside his green bomber jacket and fill it with pool balls. After, he told them to spread his legs. Bryan then hopped up onto the table. He loomed over him like a force to be reckoned with.

  “You fucking stomp one of us, you stomp all of us.”

  “Please. I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

  Before he could spit his words out, Bryan brought the pillowcase full of heavy pool balls down hard on his face, then his body multiple times until the guy was unconscious. But he didn’t stop there. He then pulled back his leg and kicked him as hard as he could in the nuts twice. They then used a pen to scratch into his forehead the word: “Cunt!”

  Sam couldn’t believe what he was seeing. By the time they were done with him, he was a bloody mess and the white pillowcase was red. Bryan pointed at those in the club and told them if they mentioned a word to the police of what they had done they would return and give everyone the same treatment. Before he got down off the table he kicked Brock again in the nuts with his steel-toed boots. “The next time I’ll take your head.”

  Then like nothing had happened, he turned, dropped down off the table and grinned at Sam. He had blood on his face and jacket. He strolled over to Sam and put his arm around him and led him out. The other five would jump at people as they walked by them and then laugh. The fear on people’s faces was something Sam would never forget.

  “And that’s how you get it done. So what do you think, Sammy boy? You got what it takes?”

  Sam was at a complete loss for words as they walked away that night.

  That was Bryan Catz. He wasn’t a guy to let things go. In returning to Mount Pleasant Sam knew that he wouldn’t give up until he found him and had inflicted as much pain as possible. He was a man of few words and more often than not, he was the one that was sent in to deal with trouble. They were never convicted for what they did to those three guys. The newspaper reported that Brock remained in intensive care for months and had to go through a year’s worth of rehabilitation.

  Now maybe that should have been enough to convince him that they were a bad element but back then Sam didn’t care about anything. Most days he felt as if was trying to breathe underwater.

  Snapping back into the present moment, he had run a full block before he turned and unleashed round after round. When the insane dropped and he tried to catch his breath, he could see more of them coming. It never ended. Sam went over a bridge and jumped over the side, slipped down a steep slope and took cover underneath. The sound of boots hitting the concrete bridge above him could be heard. Their screams, mixed with moans had him so scared that he thought he was going to have a heart attack. As the noise became less, he waded through the small stream and scrambled up the side of the embankment to return to the brewery.

  His mind drifted back to a week after the incident.

  “You think I was over the top, don’t you, Frost?”

  “I don’t know what to make of it.”

  “I never did it for Jason. I did that for me. You see, if one of us loses respect, we all start slipping down that slope and being disrespected. I made damn sure that kid knew that he wasn’t going to fuck with me. Jason, maybe. Me? Hell no!”

  Bryan sat with an energy drink in his hand studying Sam in the changing rooms.

  “Let me tell you something, Frost. The world out there doesn’t care about you or me. Look at the way we’ve have been treated. We’ve been tossed around the foster system like a used rag doll. Families that were meant to look after us have abused us. The only one that you can count on is yourself, no one else. Hell, I don’t even trust the fuckers in here. When it comes down to the wire, those you think you can rely on will abandon you, just the way your parents and mine did.”

  Bryan got up and pressed his finger into Sam’s chest. “Remember that.”

  He strolled off to the showers.

  What the hell was he doing? He didn’t owe Tom anything. Hell, he had to wonder if he would have risked his life if the shoe was on the other foot. Tom might have wanted his father to live. But how many others had lost their father in this shitfest? Was it worth losing his own life for someone he barely knew? No one was going to bring back Jodi and Brett. Why was he doing this?

  Sam’s jogging slowed to a crawl as the weight of his questions, and what Bryan had said years before, sank in. Slowly but surely doubt crept in. He thought about what Luke had said and wondered if he was right. Perhaps he was putting everyone’s lives at risk on a crusade to chase someone the way they were chasing him. Bryan was fueled by hate for Sam, not because he had turned on the rest of his skinhead brothers, but because he had turned on him. He had insulted him. That’s all this was about, a personal vendetta. If he set out to kill Bryan, he would be no different than him.

  As he reached the corner he pressed his back against the wall and moved up to the second doorway. He twisted it slowly, hoping, praying that it would open. When it clicked and he was able to ease it open, he slipped in and shut the door behind him.

  The moment he was inside he knew they were drunk. He could hear them telling jokes in the back. Their speech slurred. One of them was talking about the look on people’s faces when they released that infected person among them.

  The realization dawned on him. The infection hadn’t made its way to the town, Bryan had brought it here. He had been the one to let loose the infection on others. He was the cause of the suffering that had been inflicted upon the townsfolk. The blood of hundreds was on his hands. Sam moved quietly against the back wall, staying out of sight. From where he was he could see Tom’s father gagged and bound to a chair.

  “So when are we leaving?” one of them said still chuckling.

  “Leaving?”

  “Yeah, we aren’t staying, are we?”

  “Who said anything about leaving?”

  Sam peered through from below a table. He could just make out two of them in the back room. They were sitting on leather couches holding beer in their hands.

  “We’re not going anywhere,” Bryan said.

  “What?”

  “You think I came all this way to just release the infected?”

  “I thought that’s what this was about? You know, getting our own back on the town.”

  “This is about so much more than that.”

  One of them started laughing. “Shit, Catz, you really are nuts. You think he’s going to show his face?”

  “He’ll show.”

  “Oh come on, man. This asshole out there isn’t even his father.”

  “You don’t know Frost like I do.”

  Sam moved fast across the room. He paused for a second, checking to see if the
y had heard him. There was no break in their conversation. Tom’s father caught sight of him and his eyes flared. Sam brought up a finger to his own lips. He shuffled a little more, making sure to stay hidden while threading his way around the tables until he made it over to him. He pulled a knife from the sheath on his leg and cut the bindings around his ankles. He paused for a second and glanced up at the mirror that gave him a good shot of them. He did his best to remain out of sight but there was a risk he could be seen.

  Just as he cut the last strand around his wrists he felt a gun press against his temple.

  “Glad you could join us.”

  18

  Ally was beginning to get worried. Her anxiety only increased when she saw Corey stumble in. His shirt was drenched in blood.

  “Where’s Sam?”

  It didn’t help that Billy was gasping for air and couldn’t get a word out. “He went in by himself.”

  Luke laughed. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Shut up, Luke,” Ally shot back. “What do you mean?”

  Billy rested his hands on his knees. “After Corey injured himself, he told me to bring him back.”

  “And you listened to him?” Kiera replied, looking equally astonished as Ally.

  “Hey, don’t have a go at me, I tried to tell him but he wouldn’t listen.”

  “He never does,” Luke added leaning against the wall.

  “Luke, go after him, make yourself useful,” Kiera said.

  “I’m not going out there. He might have a death wish but I don’t.”

  Ally went over to the window and looked out. There were close to twenty insane people running down the street. Were they going after him? Had they already got him? She didn’t know what to do. On one hand she wanted to go after him, on the other, there were just too many on the streets.

  Back in the lumberyard, Corporal Stigers was gathering together three of his men to perform another sweep of the town. The previous evening had been the worst so far. There were more of them and their attacks were becoming more frequent. They were also adapting. In the first few days they would just rush up to the gate and get shot, now they would duck, and hide. They were learning from their mistakes.