Revelations - 02

by T. W. Brown

  They were whispering quietly, amongst themselves. I saw a show of hands, but didn’t know what they were voting on. Finally, Jason turned.

  “We’ll stay. My brother, Annie, and Greg will leave.” Stephen nudged his brother. “But my little brother wants a brief, private meeting between him and you.”

  “Done.” I nodded.

  I stepped down and motioned for Stephen to follow me. I walked to the picnic area and sat down at a table. The other man sat across from me. I was a bit sad that the man couldn’t join us. He was about my height, five-nine-ish, but easily two-fifty. His arms were huge, and he looked like he could bench press a Volkswagon.

  “If I tell you which direction we’re gonna go, where we’ll be headed…will you follow us?”

  “Why?”

  “Put us down.”

  “What?”

  “Listen,” the man put up his hands, gesturing for me to calm down, “those things…I’ve been payin’ attention. Sometimes, they do stuff. I can’t really explain it good, but my worry is that when I die and turn, I’ll come back here. And I might have a bunch with me.”

  “You think those things communicate?” I asked.

  “I don’t know about that, but if I turn and head back here, no tellin’ how many will follow.”

  “How long do you reckon ya got until you turn?” I asked.

  “I’d be surprised if we made it to nightfall.”

  “Listen, Mister Johnson—”

  “You can call me, Stephen, I think since I’m asking you to kill me and two friends that we can be on a first-name basis with one another.”

  “But why?”

  “I don’t want to be one of…those things. And, I don’t want to bring a mob of ‘em back here, ruinin’ your set-up,” Stephen explained. “Also, I don’t want Jason to see you put a bullet in my head. No matter the reason…it’ll never settle right with him. You got your hands full enough with that Lee character. Difference between him and my brother, Jason isn’t just a buncha talk. He gets hot and it’ll turn to bullets.”

  “You aint exactly inspiring me to keep him around,” I said.

  “Right now…he sees that he owes you.” Stephen folded his big hands on the table. I looked him in the eyes and was struck by something.

  No black tracers.

  His eyes were dark brown. The whites were clear of any sign of the infection, unlike the woman. I guess it’s like any other illness. Some go down quicker than others. I wondered if his being so big, and obviously in shape, had anything to do with his slower rate of deterioration.

  “Owes me for what?” I asked, forcing myself back to the conversation.

  “Takin’ our folks in like you are,” Stephen explained. “Jason used to run with a bit of a gang. He still holds some of their ideas in his head. Mostly about loyalty and stuff.”

  “Again,” I shook my head, “not really inspiring me with the whole letting-him-stay plan.”

  “I’m being honest with you.”

  “Which is great, but telling me that your brother is a hot-headed gang-banger—”

  “Former gang member,” Stephen corrected me. “Look, you and I know that there is strength in numbers. And believe it or not we’re a lot alike. We both got people we need to take care of. And we’ll do whatever it takes to see it through. I’m asking you to follow me out and put me down so I don’t endanger your people.”

  “Why don’t you do it yourself once you’ve gotten away from here?”

  “Truth?”

  “You’ve been free with it up to now. No sense stopping.”

  “The girl that’s hurt…Annie…she’s our sister. If it was just me and Greg, I wouldn’t blink,” the man’s voice had quieted to a whisper, “but I already had to put my folks down…and a son…and a wife. I can’t do it again. And if I just off myself, I know me…I’ll tell myself that I can beat it all the way to the point where I turn.”

  I considered his answer. There wasn’t anything he said that I couldn’t totally understand. I nodded my head.

  “One last favor,” he said, bringing his eyes up and locking on mine.

  “Why not?” I shrugged.

  “Do Annie first.” He placed a gun on the table. It had a silencer! Well, that took care of my last concern, which was how far the sounds of gunfire carried these days.

  We shook hands.

  

  I saw them up ahead, sitting on a downed log. Their backs were to me. Stephen was handing a water bottle to Annie. Both she and Greg looked horrible. Even from here I could see the sickly hue of their skin. But Stephen still looked fine.

  Taking a look around, I smiled. He’d led his group to a small clearing by a stream. I could walk almost all the way up to them and remain hidden. That stream would allow me to move without worrying about every single noise. Plus, Stephen was talking…although I doubt those two were hearing much. They both looked completely out of it.

  About ten feet away, I stopped. Pulling the gun he’d given me, I habitually checked the safety. I lined up on the back of the woman’s head—there was no way I could miss from here—took a deep breath, held it for a second, then, after a slow exhale, I fired. Let me just say that ‘silencer’ is a misnomer. She slumped forward and collapsed. Greg fell over to his side, out of surprise I imagine, but he could barely move. I got up and before he could manage to put words to the pleading I saw in his eyes—full of black tendrils confirming his infection—I fired again.

  All that remained was Stephen. He sat silently on the log, just watching. I saw a tear in his eye as it welled up past the point of containment and trickled down his cheek.

  “Steve,” he said to me calmly in greeting with a nod.

  “Steve,” I echoed. By the shakiness in my voice, you’d think I was the one facing execution.

  “I appreciate it,” the larger man said.

  “Mind if I ask you one question?” I said hesitantly.

  “Go ahead.”

  “What’s it feel like?”

  “That’s the bitch of it,” he sighed. “I guess in the end you feel like you’re burning up. But just now, other than the pain in my arm where the chunk of meat is missing…I feel fine.”

  “Okay,” I said. This was the hard part. “Close your eyes and count back from five.”

  “Just one last thing,” the man said, eyes already closed.

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Welcome.”

  “Five…four…three…t—”

  BLAM.

  I tossed the gun aside and headed back to camp. The hour journey out took almost twice that coming back. The sun was on its way down past its midday apex. I reached the outer-most campsite and sat on a pine-needle strewn picnic table for a bit. If killing Jack was difficult, this was eating me from the inside out more so than any zombie.

  My throat tightened for the zillionth time at the image of that man sitting with his eyes closed, totally at peace, waiting for the executioner’s bullet. In just a few days, I’d shot and killed four living, breathing persons. I tried to remind myself why. I tried to remember that night in camp…Thalia’s scream…but it didn’t help.

  No, I insisted, it has to be done. I was responsible for not only Thalia and Emily, but…in a way…each of those people. They relied on me to make the tough decisions that nobody wanted to make. Of everybody, I think Dr. Zahn is the only one who really understands.

  “Man up,” I said out loud, like hearing the words would help. I took a few deep breaths to ensure I’d either suppressed everything, or pushed it out of my system. Walking down the overgrown, but still easily followed ‘road’ that wound through the twenty-four campsites—each nothing more than a fire pit, picnic table, and post with a water spigot and power outlet—I felt the tension and pain condense to a nicely manageable ball that I could stuff into a dark corner of my mind.

  I reached the edge of the clearing and froze. Four people were on their knees, hands behind their heads in the middle of the soft
ball field. Aaron, Billy, and Randi had them at gun point. I spotted Teresa up at the house, standing in front of the door; no doubt keeping Thalia and Emily inside. Barry was up in the watch tower. Everybody else was standing in or near the trench.

  As I crossed the ball field, Dr. Zahn came down the hill, cutting me off or wanting to fill me in as I went to see what exactly was happening. I noticed Jason and one of the women from his group coming out of the woods opposite from where I’d come. They were carrying weapons in hand.

  What the hell had happened?

  “Steve?” Dr. Zahn actually started to jog. Now I knew something was up.

  I kept walking, allowing her to intercept me as I crossed the entry road that divided the softball field from the big expanse of open grass. The whole place had a vibe to it that was more than just a little unsettling. It was made just a bit worse by all the unfamiliar faces looking at me like I was Moses coming down from The Mount with the two tablets. Didn’t they know that I didn’t have all the answers. I was flying blind by the seat of my pants. Not much more reliable than a Magic 8 Ball.

  “What’s up, Doc?” Did I just say that? Only, Dr. Zahn didn’t react.

  “You need to come look at this,” she said sternly.

  “What?” I asked, as she fell in beside me, leading me to the four individuals kneeling in the grass at gunpoint.

  “Just come.”

  Fine. I walked across the suddenly much larger seeming field. I became aware with each step that all eyes were on me. Even Lee? And he was…smirking? We reached the cluster and four sets of frightened eyes looked up at me.

  “You,” Dr. Zahn walked up to a man about my age, “show him your arm.”

  The man glanced at his friends who all shrugged or nodded nervously. He unbuttoned the long-sleeved cuff and pulled it up revealing a forearm. I moved closer, a loud pounding ring gaining force in my head.

  The arm was mostly unremarkable. It’s only really outstanding quality was the huge bite. Or, rather, the huge mostly-healed bite. There was no mistaking what it was. But a bite turns victims within seventy-two hours. This one—

  “How long ago?” I forced myself to ask.

  “Just over four weeks,” the man said quietly, obviously afraid.

  Impossible.

  16

  Vignettes XII

  Shaw tossed the towel on the floor. Standing naked in his room, he let the warm breeze from the open window wash over his body. He felt pleasantly tired. In his mind, he could hear still the muffled sobs of that bitch, Senator Angela Bergman. I’ll bet she never imagined days like this when she was struttin’ around D.C. or drivin’ this country into the ground while standing in front of walls of cameras and lyin’ to honest, hard-workin’, God-fearin’ Americans, Shaw thought. The things he’d done to her were down right satisfying, but the things he’d made her do to herself…

  A knock at the door shattered the images playing in his head. Grabbing a pair of shorts, Shaw stepped into them, then went to the door, yanking it open angrily. “What!” he barked.

  “You been outside recently?” TJ asked with a tone in his voice that immediately put Shaw on edge: fear. A half-dozen men stood in the hall as well, all of them looking more than a little nervous.

  “No.” Shaw folded his arms across his chest, assuming his most authoritative pose. It looked like his men needed their leader at the moment.

  “You should come with us,” TJ said. “My room’s on the south side, you can see from there.”

  “See what?” Whatever TJ was up to, Shaw didn’t like it.

  “Just come,” TJ said impatiently. With that, he turned around and walked down the hallway. The other men looked around nervously between their leader and the man stalking angrily down the hall. One by one, they peeled away and took off after TJ.

  “Dammit,” Shaw cursed. He grabbed the pair of pants hanging over the foot of his bed, pulled them on, and took off down the hallway. He’d deal with TJ’s insubordinate attitude later. None of the men told Jonathon Shaw what to do.

  He reached the man’s room. The door was already open, and murmuring trickled out into the strangely empty corridor. Shaw entered to find at least twenty men standing at the two windows; the ones in back up on their tip-toes, craning to see over those in front. Shaw reached the rear of the group and began shouldering his way to the front. Several men resisted him until they turned to see who exactly was pushing through. Then, of course, they hastily moved out of the way.

  At last, he reached where TJ stood, staring outside. “What’s this all about, TJ?” Shaw asked, but as soon as he looked outside, he knew.

  “Holy shit!” he breathed.

  “All of that little town…Heath…it must all be burning,” TJ said.

  Well off in the distance, a huge black cloud rose in the otherwise flawlessly blue sky. It was enormous. Shaw felt something churning in his gut.

  Anger?

  No, this was much more. Somehow, he was certain that little pencil-necked bastard he’d let live back at the RV park was responsible. He’d obviously not taken the generous offer and gotten out of Shaw’s territory. Instead, the little geek had decided to wage a war. The man obviously lived in a fantasy. Well, Shaw thought, I’ll put a quick end to that.

  “Muster all of the men on the compound, TJ…assign a detail to lock down all the women. Tell the doctor to meet me in my quarters. Whether this is a rival faction…or…as I suspect…a single act of terrorism…we will crush it. Today!”

  A chorus of cheers echoed from the room.

  

  Night time.

  Peter watched the caravan of vehicles roll out the huge gate. He hadn’t been surprised that Shaw chose to ride in his APC. Oh well, he thought as he looked around the empty entry-foyer. Inside, it looked like a normal building. He still found it interesting that the outside of the place looked like a giant picnic basket.

  Shaw had left him with specific instructions. Prepare an emergency room, and be prepared for the possibility of casualties. Well…that was absolutely not going to happen. He bounded up the stairs.

  Reaching his room, he burst in. Shari was standing at the window and shrieked at the sudden intrusion. “Grab the bag I had you pack,” he said as he went to the footlocker in the corner and pulled out a small duffel.

  “What’s going on?” Shari called from their closet-sized bedroom.

  “Shaw and his men are off to wage war,” Peter said sarcastically.

  “What?” Shari came out holding a small knapsack and a mesh bag with a drawstring.

  “South of here…there’s a big fire. Shaw thinks it is an attack on the team he sent out the other day.”

  “Which way from here is south?” Shari asked.

  “Other side of the building,” Peter said. Something on Shari’s face made him pause. “What is it?”

  “Just…we were travelling with these three guys. They actually rescued us, but these jerks came one night…”

  “Three?” Peter asked skeptically. “I hardly doubt this was the work of three guys.”

  “Yeah?” Shari smiled. “Well…they were super-smart. Most of the time I needed a dictionary when they spoke.”

  “Still…” Peter considered the possibility, then shook it off. “Three guys waging war on Shaw’s men? I just don’t buy it. But whatever it is, this is our chance. There aren’t a dozen men left watching this place. If we’re ever gonna go…it’s now.”

  “And what about my mom and sisters?”

  “I only know about the pregnant one…Erin?”

  “But—”

  “Look,” Peter cut her off, trying his best to keep from sounding angry. He understood her concern for her family, but this was better than his best-case scenario when it came to an opportunity to escape. And even now, it wasn’t for sure that they’d get out. He didn’t have the time to search for two women that could be anywhere in this facility. “We’ll grab your little sister, but that’s gonna have to do. Otherwise…you can stay.”
<
br />   Shari’s head dropped, her shoulders shook a little as she began to cry. Peter felt for her, he really did, but they needed to be gone. Pronto.

  “Okay,” she looked up, her face tear-streaked, but her eyes showing…resolution.

  By the time he was ready, Shaw and his men had been gone at least a half an hour. During that time, he detailed his plans to Shari and hoped that she understood. They went upstairs to Erin’s room and Peter produced a key, the biggest break up to this point being that he possessed a master-key that worked on all the doors of the maternity floor. He opened the door and stepped aside as Shari rushed to her sister. He allowed them a few minutes for a tearful reunion, occasionally reminding them to quiet down.

  Eventually, he stepped between the girls, giving a very brief explanation to the younger Bergman girl. He allowed the girl enough time to gather a few things, which he stuffed into his own bag.

  “Remember, neither of you two say a word once we leave this room. Follow me and do exactly what I say when I say it,” Peter said, trying hard to sound more confident than frightened.

  The girls nodded and he led them out the door. They hurried down the hallway, occasionally passing rooms where weeping could be heard clearly from the other side of the doors. He opened the door to the south stairwell and froze.

  “Wow,” he breathed. The distant horizon was glowing from a massive fire. Nope, he thought, definitely the work of more than just three men.