I glanced in the same direction. The bushes had just fluttered. Something big was in them.
Suddenly, a flash of brown and black charged out of the brush.
Chapter 22
Chad
June 26th Afternoon
Boomer flew out of the bushes toward Cecil.
Cecil, with his quick reflexes, spun and turned his pistol on the canine.
“No!” I shouted. Cecil was standing over my chest. I brought my right leg up and kicked as hard as I could. My foot hit his groin just as his weapon discharged.
The kick was enough, and the bullet missed Boomer. The German shepherd closed the distance at astounding speed and pounced before Cecil could get off another shot.
Boomer’s teeth tore into Cecil’s wrist. The gun went off again, but it was now flailing around as Boomer ripped at the arm holding the pistol.
I kicked Cecil in the stomach as the man tried to pull his arm free from the vicious attack. I backpedaled, trying to stay away from the pistol as it erratically fired off a few more rounds.
Something whizzed through the air. Cecil cried as a bullet tore into his shoulder and spun him around and to the ground.
I glanced over to where Boomer had come out of the brush. Fish was moving our way. His .45 pistol was aimed squarely at Cecil as the man writhed around on the ground.
“You… fucker!” Cecil hissed through clenched teeth. Boomer had let go of Cecil’s arm. His gun had fallen to the side and Fish quickly kicked it out of reach.
Cecil started to sit up.
“Stay down!” Fish roared as he kicked him in the face. Cecil fell back, and before he could react, Fish was on top of him.
I scampered to my feet. Major Dobson, Enrique, Campbell and Pitman all exited the tree line with their rifles at the ready.
“You fucking bastards—” Cecil began, but was quickly silenced by Fish’s elbow. Blood gushed from Cecil’s nose.
“We took you in,” Fish growled. “I trusted you. You killed my men.”
“After… what you guys did,” Cecil said, then paused to spit up some blood. “After what you guys did, what do you—”
Fish dropped his knee into Cecil’s sternum, knocking the wind out of him. “I don’t give a shit. You came after me and mine.”
Campbell and the rest formed a semicircle around them. Boomer galloped over to me. His jowls were dripping with Cecil’s blood.
“What do you… expect,” Cecil coughed. “You got everyone I cared about killed! I’m… I’m no different than you!”
Fish’s face was stone. “Do you know the difference between you and me?” he asked, pulling Cecil’s eight inch knife from the sheath.
“What?” Cecil spat.
Fish grabbed Cecil’s shirt and drew him in close.
“Unlike you, I’m still alive.”
Fish thrust the knife through Cecil’s throat, pushing it up as far as it would go. His icy stare locked onto Cecil’s face as the man’s eyes grew wide and then went blank.
Fish rose to his feet, letting Cecil fall back to the ground. He glared over to me. “You alright, kid?”
I nodded. “Ye-yeah.”
“You look like shit,” Enrique said.
“I’ll be fine.” I wiped blood from my face. “How did you find me?” I asked Fish. “You said you guys were going back to the crossroads.”
Campbell and Enrique checked on Trent and John’s bodies.
Fish yanked out a piece of white paper. “Got your note. Didn’t want Cecil thinking that we were on to him. Everyone else is back at the boats.”
“We showed up a few minutes after you,” Campbell added. “Ran into Fish and Enrique. Met up with Major Dobson and followed Boomer until we heard Cecil talking.”
“I owe you an ass whoopin’,” Pitman growled as he approached me and laid his hand on my shoulder. “But I’ll wait until you heal first.”
I smirked. “Thanks… I think.”
I looked back down at Cecil. I couldn’t help but pity him. I know he killed Chad and Manns. I know he was responsible for the deaths of Gonzales and Kyle, and he murdered Trent, John, and most likely Rob, in cold blood. But, would I have been any different if our roles were reversed? What if I held him responsible for the deaths of everyone I cared for? Karina, Fish, and all the people back at Camp Holly… Wouldn’t I seek revenge just like he had done?
His friends and family were dead because of us. They were not bad people. Two groups of decent people on opposite sides of some food led to this. I wondered how much of the surviving population had resorted to killing each other in order to survive.
I reasoned that it would have come down to us or them. And now, Cecil wouldn’t kill any more of our people or cause harm to our camp.
“Get your gear, kid,” Fish said, bringing me back from my thoughts. “We need to link up with the rest of the search party. Kolin said his dog got a hit on Gardner’s scent.”
Dobson made his way over to me. “Don’t you ever do anything that stupid again, do you understand? You’re too valuable,” he said sternly.
“Give him a break,” Campbell said. “If it weren’t for him, we may never have found Cecil.”
“What do you mean, ‘wasn’t for or him’?” Fish chuckled. “More like if it wasn’t for his mutt.”
Boomer began to stir next to me as I glanced at Fish. He gave me a wink and then his eyes shot open as a spear burst from his shoulder. Fish fell forward with an agonizing wail.
“Scabs!” Pitman yelled.
Boomer had already started barking and I cursed myself for not paying more attention to him.
“It’s Chad!” I yelled.
I caught of glimpse of my old friend just before the vegetation exploded as bullets rippled through the trees and bushes. Everyone had opened fire at the ghosts in the tree line.
I ran to Fish, who was trying to pick himself up off the ground. The six foot wooden spear that had punctured him from the back was protruding about a foot and a half just below his collarbone.
“Fish!” I yelled, coming up next to him.
“Mother… Shit… Piece of…” Fish was using every curse word in the book.
“Do you want me to pull it out?” I said over the hail of gunfire. The wails of multiple scabs echoed in the distance.
“Hell no!” he said through clinched teeth.
The firing stopped.
“I no see anything,” Enrique informed us as he approached the tree line.
“Pitman!” Major Dobson commanded. “Sweep the area!”
Both Dobson and Pitman disappeared into the brush.
Campbell and Enrique came over to me and Fish.
Fish was fighting off shock. His face went white with pain. He sat down to relieve the weight of the spear, letting it rest on the ground.
“We need to get Daniel out here,” Campbell said and reached for Fish’s radio. “I’ll send a boat back—”
“The fuck you will… sir,” Fish grunted, and grabbed the radio first. He ripped his ear piece out.
“Fish—” Campbell began, but Fish had already hit the transmit button.
“Jenna, come in,” he barked.
“This is Jenna, over,” she replied.
“Get the search party… back to camp,” Fish said, clenching his jaw in a vain attempt to absorb the pain. “Everyone, repeat, everyone goes! Leave one boat.”
“What are you doing?” Campbell asked.
Fish glared at Campbell. “With all of us out here, the camp is all but defenseless.” Fish groaned as he touched the spear tip.
“But the scabs are out here.” Campbell pointed out.
“For now,” he grunted as he hit the transmit button again. “Everyone goes on guard when you get back. Lock down the camp. Copy?”
“I get it,” Jenna replied. “Leaving now.”
Pitman and Dobson returned.
“We got one of them, probably wounded another,” Major Dobson said, approaching us hastily.
“Pitma
n,” Fish said, gritting through the pain, “get your big ass over here.”
Pitman walked over and knelt next to Fish.
Fish grabbed the end of the spear that was poking out of his shoulder. “Break it. And don’t take your time.”
Pitman eyed the Major, who just nodded. Pitman shrugged and grabbed the spear just outside Fish’s back. Fish tensed as a wave of pain racked over him. The large man then grasped part of the spear further away.
“Is this wise?” Campbell asked, but Pitman had already started to pull. The end snapped near the base of impact. Fish’s face contorted in silent agony.
Fish looked up at Pitman. “The other side,” he said tensely.
Pitman looked as if he was about to protest.
“Now!” Fish barked.
“Alright man,” Pitman said, shaking his head. He reached down and pulled. Fish slumped over, breathing hard.
Enrique walked up to me and handed me my weapons. “Why did you yell Chad?” he asked me.
“Those scabs were led here by Chad,” I told everyone while I reattached my rifle to its sling. “Cecil didn’t murder Chad, he infected him.”
“I wish I could kill that traitor… again,” Fish said, gritting his teeth as he stood up.
“We need to get Christian back to the camp,” Dobson said as he handed Fish his pistol.
“Can’t,” Fish disagreed. “We need Christian and Boomer to track those scabs.”
“We can come back for the scabs,” Dobson countered.
“Maybe, or they can make their way back to the camp. I’m not taking any chances. We go. You’re welcome to wait for us by the boat.” Fish marched over to the tree line, shaky but somehow still on his feet.
“Captain,” Dobson said, looking for backup from Campbell.
“Sorry Major, he’s right. We can track them to their nest now, or wait for them to pick us off later.” Campbell walked over to Fish. “Are you sure you can make it?”
“I have two purple hearts, Captain,” Fish grunted, “and both were worse than this bee sting. And where I was, there weren’t any medics.”
“Captain, I have to object,” Dobson said with force.
“Objection noted, sir,” Campbell sighed, and then turned to me. “Do you think Boomer can track them down?”
I nodded, but Dobson wasn’t done. “Captain!” he growled.
“Major. Can it!” Fish grumbled. “You should know better. Either we fight them on our terms, or we’re at their mercy.”
Dobson glared at Pitman who slightly shook his head ‘no’. The Major took a deep breath. “Okay, what’s the plan then, Master Sergeant?”
Fish checked the chamber on his .45 pistol.
“Boomer tracks them,” Fish stated. “We follow, and we kill them. Pretty basic shit, sir.”
Dobson reluctantly nodded. “Alright, but I take lead with Christian. If shit goes FUBAR, we evac him. Understood?”
Everyone agreed.
“And Fish,” Dobson added, “pack that wound.”
Fish snarled and grabbed a handful of dirt. He spread it around his wound while Pitman did the same to other side.
“Locos cabrones,” Enrique muttered as I coaxed Boomer into following the scabs’ scent.
We moved out. Boomer was in front with Dobson and me. Fish and Campbell were behind us while Pitman and Enrique brought up the rear.
I peered back at Fish to check on him. Blood spread from his wound with every step he took, but the dirt he had used to coagulate the blood flow absorbed some of it. His face was a pale mask of determination and I wondered how much more he could take. The physical body could only take so much damage before it gave up. He had been a Green Beret and a sniper. I knew he was tough, but he wasn’t unstoppable like Rambo in the movies.
My head was still raging and it felt as if someone hit me in the face twenty times with a brick, but I kept thinking If Fish can still go on with that injury, I sure as hell can, too.
After thirty minutes of stalking through brush and small waterways, Boomer started to get antsy. His ears perked and the hair on his back started to rise as we stumbled across a small stream. On the other side was four foot high bluff lined with trees and palmetto bushes.
I put my hand on Dobson’s arm as I knelt to the ground. He turned and signaled for Pitman and Fish.
“Pitman, can you sneak up there?” Dobson quietly asked as the two made their way up to us.
“I’ll go with him,” Fish grunted, but Dobson shook his head.
“I know you’re a tough SOB, Fish,” he whispered, “but you’re in no condition to be crawling through the mud.”
To my surprise, Fish didn’t argue.
Pitman removed some gear and prepared to sneak up the bluff.
“Move back,” Fish hissed to the rest of us, and we retreated twenty feet back into the brush.
I watched Pitman sneak across the river and start to shimmy up the side of the bluff. He was amazingly quiet for someone his size.
The main part of his body disappeared into the brush as he crawled through the bushes.
A few minutes passed and Pitman began to withdraw from the vegetation. Again, he was as quiet as a mouse.
When Pitman returned, he knelt near a small cleared area and started to draw what he had seen in the sand.
“Your boys are up there,” he said sourly. His face expressed disgust. “Judging from the clothing, two were changed into scabs. I counted seven of the monsters.”
“Gardner?” Campbell asked.
Pitman shook his head sadly. “It’s… not pretty, sir.”
Pitman continued to draw in the sand, and started to point out where he saw scabs.
Fish examined the hastily drawn map, noting our current location and judging distance.
“Alright,” Fish grunted, “Pitman, you take Enrique and circle around. We’ll give you Dobson’s radio. One click for yes, two clicks for no. Other than that, radio silence.”
“Why are we splitting up?” I asked.
“We can’t let any of them get away,” Campbell answered before Fish could.
“Yeah,” Fish nodded. “Pitman, take out any scabs that run. Otherwise, I’ll let you know when to join the battle. Remember, stay off to the south. I don’t want to hit you in a crossfire.”
“How I get sucked into this?” Enrique grumbled.
Fish cocked an eyebrow. “Because, little man, you’re quiet.”
“You not much taller than me,” Enrique shot back.
Fish ignored him and looked at Pitman. “One click when you’re in position. You ready?”
Pitman attached Dobson’s radio to his web belt. He nodded and tapped Enrique on the shoulder. The two left, taking a wide loop around the bluff.
“Okay,” Fish said, after they left. “Keep your eyes out for Pitman and Enrique once the shooting starts. They should be around this direction,” he pointed at the dirt map.
I repositioned my gear as we waited, making sure everything was in a good place and my magazines were easily accessible.
Fish went over basic tactics, mainly for the benefit of Campbell and me. Just because I was a veteran and Campbell was an officer didn’t mean we were tactically proficient, and we were about to go into battle with two highly trained Spec Ops guys. I’m sure they didn’t want the two of us flubbing up the assault.
One thing Fish brought up was cover. “Stay behind trees if you can. You want as much cover as possible. These shitheads are pretty damn accurate with their spears.”
“Not to argue,” Campbell said, “but when I was in Officer Candidate School, they told us to stay away from walls and other objects.”
“That’s because of ricocheting bullets and debris from their impact,” Dobson pointed out. “Hopefully, scabs haven’t learned how to use guns. I wouldn’t worry too much about a spear bouncing off a tree.”
I made a mental note that if we survived this battle I was going to ask Fish to teach me how to fight hand to hand. I had never really been in a
fist fight growing up and every time I had been in melee since The Awakening, I had gotten my ass whipped.
I checked Boomer’s stitches and saw that some had torn slightly open, but were still holding. For the most part, he seemed to be in good shape.
Fish had put his earpiece back in, and looked up. “They’re in position. Remember what I told you. Don’t break the line.”
Our positioning was simple. Dobson and Fish were taking the outer edges of our line, while Campbell and I took the middle. They would handle the flanks. Campbell and I only had to worry about what was coming at us dead on. Fish was off to my right while we snuck across the stream. We stayed about twenty feet apart, and Fish had been adamant about Campbell and me staying five feet behind his and Dobson’s line.
Dobson and Campbell had M4 Assault Rifles, while Fish was settling for his .45. I had my AR-15 rifle poised as we prowled up the bluff.
Fish had already disappeared from view on my right. I didn’t hear him enter the foliage, and remembered to take extra care as I snuck through the brush. Boomer, after slightly struggling up the bluff, prowled up next to me and waited. His head was low and his tail was up.
Slowly, I began to get a view of the area Pitman had described.
I held my breath, trying not to make a noise as my stomach started to wobble. Bile was building up and I turned away from the horror.
Two long boards had been lashed together, forming an ‘X’ shape. Tied to the makeshift cross was Gardner. He had been stripped naked and his left leg was completely missing. The other leg had been skinned and large portions of his thigh were gone. His chest had been broken open and all of his organs were absent. I could see his spine on the other side, through the opened ribcage.
Large spikes pinned his wrists and feet to the cross. His head lifted in a silent cry, followed by the recognizable gurgle of a zombie moan.
I turned my despair into anger. I needed the anger to get through this.
Two scabs were nursing another who had bullet holes in his chest and leg. I recognized another as Jean, a member of Gardner’s hunting party. She walked over and ripped a chunk of meat from his leg.
She handed the meat to the wounded scab and he devoured it.
The Hunt Chronicles (Book 2): Revelation Page 31
