Bone And Cinder: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Zapheads Book 1)

by Nicholson, Scott

  Just a little closer. Not much farther now...

  Soon Kara and Meredith were no more than a few feet from the tree, both clearly recognizable now.

  He called out softly, “Were you followed?”

  Meredith gasped and swung the rifle upward toward the canopy of leaves that covered Mackie. A startled Kara dropped her cigarette and stumbled backward. Meredith kept her rifle trained on the scattering of branches that crowned the tree, squinting up.

  “Don’t shoot, it’s me,” Mackie said, keeping his voice low. “I’m climbing down now.”

  Mackie had considered waiting long enough to be certain that the girls hadn’t been followed, but with sundown creeping deeper by the minute, Mackie would never squeeze off an effective Glock round from high up in a tree.

  If the girls were followed, he would have a better chance on the ground. Mackie slung the backpack over a shoulder, mindful of Sabbath inside, and with Glock still in hand he shimmied down the tree. A leg slipped, and he tumbled to the ground, landing hard on his right shoulder. Fortunately, the weapon didn’t discharge.

  He was on his feet before either Meredith or Kara could reach down to help him, wiggling out the pain from his limb.

  “Mackie, what the hell’s going on?” Kara asked. Her face was tense, eyes bright with anxiety.

  “Were you followed?”

  “We didn’t tell anyone where we were going,” Kara said. “No, I’m sure we weren’t.”

  “Artiss told us to come out here,” Meredith said. “He didn’t explain anything, just told us that we had to find you and we couldn’t tell anyone else about it. Why are you out here up in a tree, and why were we stomping through these woods looking for you?”

  So Artiss had done exactly as Mackie instructed. He would still end the bastard for what Artiss had told him on Faculty Hill, and for the sick comedy of errors that had pushed Dante to suicide, but the urge to cause him Biblical proportions of harm dimmed slightly. Maybe Mackie would just put him down mercifully rather than torturing him.

  “The idea was for you two to find me sooner rather than later,” Mackie said. “I left a pile of stones as a marker—”

  He glanced in the direction of the pile of stones he’d erected earlier, and saw they were barely noticeable among the tree trunks. “Never mind. Probably didn’t work for Daniel Boone, either.”

  “Why are you out here?” Kara asked. “Why did you have Artiss come find us? Why didn’t you just come back to campus after—”

  “Because everyone else on campus is supposed to believe I’m dead,” Mackie said. “Except you two. Right now you’re the only two I can count on.”

  “Why us?” Meredith said, looking over her shoulder.

  “Herrera plans to take control of campus. And he convinced Artiss to become part of his plan.”

  “No way,” Kara said. “Then why would Artiss send us out here if he’s in on it?”

  “He was supposed to kill Dante and me on Faculty Hill. It was a quick, convenient way for Herrera to put his coup in motion and take out two of his biggest threats without lifting a finger. But Artiss, he couldn’t do it. Things didn’t go as planned.”

  “But...so, where’s Dante?” Meredith said.

  “There was a Zaphead...he didn’t make it.”

  She looked stricken and downcast, and Mackie wondered if the feelings between them were more than those of comrades in arms. Mackie had no intention of telling her that Dante died by his own hand, though given the extent of his injuries, he likely wouldn’t have survived without immediate first aid.

  Meredith’s head slumped forward and she dug a thumb and ring finger into the corners of her eyes. “Oh God. This is not happening. Tell me all this isn’t happening.”

  Kara said, “So you sent Artiss back to campus, had him tell Herrera that you and Dante were dead?”

  “I should’ve killed him,” Mackie said. “He seemed eager to want to make things right, so I knew he could be useful to me. After this is over, though, I’ll deal with him.”

  “We made it so far,” Meredith said. “What’s your plan?”

  Mackie turned to Kara. “I thought there would be more time to figure things out before we made our move against Krider, Herrera, and McRae. But now we don’t have that luxury. We have to take them out right away. Thing of it is, it doesn’t sound like Krider is even aware of Herrera’s plan. Herrera wants to be in charge and he’s got no reason to stay loyal to Krider now. Tried to tell the bastard as much, but he thinks the old rules still apply.”

  “Wait,” Meredith said. “You mean the two of you were planning on killing them all along?”

  Mackie put a hand on Meredith’s shoulder. “I tried to tell you when we first met...but these people, you can’t imagine just how bad they really are. They were responsible for some unbelievably horrific shit even when the lights were still on and you could dial 911. Now that we’re in a whole new world where there’s no law, no reason to hold on to old concepts of decorum or morality, you think these people are suddenly going to change? No, they’re going to become something even worse. They weren’t afraid of the law before, and now they really have nothing to be afraid of, no motivation at all to play by any of the rules that held society together. Hell, now the law is whatever they decide it is. The only chance any of us have is if they’re all dead.”

  “But you said Krider doesn’t know about Herrera’s plan,” Meredith said. “Maybe we could talk to him, convince him to help us get rid of Herrera. We don’t have to kill him. Maybe there’s a place we can keep him on campus, like a prison—”

  “No,” Mackie said. “They all die. That’s not negotiable.”

  Meredith raised her rifle and leveled it at Mackie, who didn’t even flinch. “And why the hell do you get to make that decision? You’re as bad as them.”

  “Because I’m the only one of us who understands just what these people are really capable of. Krider may not be in on this, but he’s no better than Herrera. If there’s any part of you that can believe in the concept of pure, undiluted evil...well, trust me, that’s what these men are. They die first or we do. There really is no other option.”

  “Sure there is,” Meredith said. “We have weapons. We’re free. We can just head west and see what happens.”

  “I’m not leaving Allie. And are you willing to abandon the other survivors? We either stick together on this or we’re all meat.”

  After a moment, Meredith lowered the rifle. “I can’t help you murder anyone. I won’t do that.”

  “I need your help,” Mackie said. “But you can keep your hands clean. I’m the only one that will do any killing.”

  “You don’t have to do it alone,” Kara said. “She may not be willing, but I sure as hell am.”

  “No,” Mackie said. “This isn’t something you’ve done before. You couldn’t do it to Allie. You couldn’t do it when you found me. I’ve done it plenty. Trust me, two more kills won’t add any stains to my soul.”

  For a moment, no one else spoke. Mackie saw something in Meredith’s face that suggested she wanted elaboration, but she didn’t ask.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Kara asked.

  “I need you two to go back to campus. You’ll create a diversion for Krider, Herrera, and McRae. And while I deal with them, you’ll get the others to safety. Hide them someplace where they can’t be easily found if things don’t go so well for me. Meredith, how well do you know Sayles?”

  “Not very,” Meredith said. “I knew Dante better. But he seems like a good guy. I’m sure we can trust him.”

  “I’m not ready to do that just yet,” Mackie said. “Until I know for certain just where his loyalties lie, I want him out of the picture.”

  “And how will you make that happen?” Kara said. “If you have us create some sort of diversion to draw Krider and his men away from everyone else, you know Sayles will follow.”

  “Yes, he will. Separate him from the others. Meredith, you can try talking to him if you thin
k he’ll listen. But if he becomes a problem...well, Desiree has the Haldol I stole. She can use it to incapacitate him until this is over. Talk to the others. Let them know what’s going on so they can prepare themselves. But not Artiss. He stays in the dark.”

  “What if somebody rats us out?” Kara asked. “We don’t even know these people.”

  “We’re just going to have to take a chance,” Mackie said. “They already see that Krider is setting himself up to play tyrant.”

  “Do you really plan to kill Artiss when this is over?” Meredith asked.

  “I think he’s a threat to us all, no matter how remorseful he seemed earlier. And he’s part of the reason why your friend Dante is dead. Artiss pulled my Glock and took a shot at him. It was a half-assed shot, and he didn’t have the stones to take another...but still, Dante was hurt. The Zaphead did most of the damage, but Artiss sure as hell contributed.”

  “Even so,” Meredith said “You’re not judge, jury, and executioner. You don’t have the right to make these decisions.”

  “I’m trying to keep us alive,” Mackie said. “If you don’t want to make the hard decisions, fine. But don’t get in my way when I do.”

  “Yeah, well, where does it end? If someone else on campus pisses you off, are you gonna take them out, too? Where are you gonna draw the line?”

  “He agreed to help a sick piece of shit enslave the women on campus. And don’t think he wouldn’t have raped both of you in a heartbeat.”

  “Yea, okay, he should be punished in some way, but not murdered. Because he changed his mind, Mackie. He knew he couldn’t go through with it. And he found us and told us where you were, just like you asked.”

  “He did,” Mackie said. “But he also took a shot at Dante. His judgment became just clouded enough to pull that trigger once, even if he seemed to regret it afterward. That makes him a threat. Whatever happens, he can’t stay.”

  “Can we just...turn him loose?” Meredith asked. “Let him take his chances with the Zapheads?”

  “We’re all taking our chances with the Zapheads. Every minute.”

  That caused them all to look around, falling silent to listen to the forest around them. Darkness had settled even more solidly, although a fuzzy wedge of moon illuminated the canopy above.

  “Okay,” Kara said, in a hushed tone. “You said you wanted us to create a diversion. How?”

  “With this.” Mackie unzipped his backpack and reached inside for the jar of gasoline. Even in the faint light, Kara and Meredith could make out a dark shape squirming inside the backpack. Sabbath had stayed mostly quiet during the conversation, but the languor induced by her turkey dinner was wearing off. Only the matching green orbs of Sabbath’s eyes and the white from her fangs showed as she meowed sharply in response to the large opening ripped in the roof of her sanctuary.

  “Mackie, what’s—?” Kara asked.

  “It’s a cat. Her name’s Sabbath.”

  “A cat.”

  “Not now,” Mackie said. “Pay attention. This is what you’ll use for the diversion.” He held up the jar of gasoline. Kara clicked her lighter in order to see better.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Mackie said.

  The flame bobbed in the reflection of the glass. “Is that—”

  “Gasoline,” Mackie said. “Use it to create a fire, an explosion that will send Krider, Herrera, and McRae out to investigate. I’m assuming they spend most of their time in the student union, so make sure the flames are fully visible from there. Once they’re outside, take everyone else and hide them away somewhere. I’ll position myself where I can pick off Krider, Herrera, and McRae easily enough.”

  “But maybe they don’t all come out to investigate the fire,” Meredith said. “What then?”

  “Never claimed the plan was perfect.”

  “And a roaring blaze on campus? What if we can’t contain it?”

  “There’s plenty of fire extinguishers on campus,” Mackie said. “We only need the flames to serve as a distraction for just a few minutes. We won’t let it spread too far.”

  Mackie handed the jar of gasoline to Meredith. “Make Molotov cocktails and create a series of explosions, or use it all and make one big bang. Whatever you think is best. Just make sure you get their attention. Whenever I smell smoke and see flames, I’ll know it’s time to make my move.”

  “Mackie?” It was Kara.

  “Yes?”

  “Why is there a cat in your backpack?”

  “I found her in one of the houses on Faculty Hill. A piece of normal to keep me grounded. And I like the company.”

  Mackie pulled Sabbath from the backpack. She shivered and curled into a tight ball in Mackie’s arms.

  A strictly indoor kitty easily frightened by the overwhelming expansiveness of the outdoor world. Mackie understood. With most of the people gone and others turned into violent killers, the planet had become an awfully big and scary place.

  Meredith and Kara stroked Sabbath’s fur as if it were a talisman of better days ahead. “Are you going to keep her?” Meredith asked.

  “Yes. Now get going.”

  Kara and Meredith headed toward campus, their steps tentative, using the lighter’s flame to guide them between the trees. Mackie fed Sabbath and placed her inside the backpack again. He began his trek toward the cottages that were nestled in the little valley behind campus. He would take shelter in one—after clearing it of any Zapheads and securing it—and wait there for the smell of smoke and the glow of flames.

  Mackie kept his gaze on the ground, wary of the roots and rocks that were difficult to see in the low light.

  Kuh-whack.

  When the pain detonated across the back of his skull and filled his vision with bursts of light, Mackie’s first thought was that he’d been shot in the head.

  17.

  He was on his knees, and then flat on his face, and even through the ringing in his ears he could hear Sabbath’s startled meow as her sanctuary seemed to drop from the sky and crash hard to the ground below.

  Mackie rolled over onto his left shoulder. Artiss loomed above him holding what appeared to be a thick tree branch.

  But that couldn’t be right because this guy had a thicker build than Artiss, even though the hair looked mostly the same. The roaring ache in Mackie’s skull felt as if the bones comprising it were being ground to powder.

  And then the kid standing above him was shouting, and Mackie couldn’t make out the words, which seemed strange to him because he had no problem hearing Sabbath’s meows from inside the backpack.

  It sounded like the kid was calling him. Which made no sense at all.

  “Where the hell is Benny?”

  The kid lunged at Mackie, the tree branch raised in a two-handed grip, and brought the club down toward Mackie’s head before Mackie realized he was still holding his Glock.

  Mackie shifted slightly so that his right shoulder took the brunt of the branch’s impact rather than his head or neck. Even with the electric burst of pain that shot down the length of his entire arm, Mackie was still able to raise the Glock and slam the barrel into the kid’s groin.

  The kid barked and bent forward at the waist, still clutching the branch, but the inclination and ability to use it as a weapon had left him in a hurry.

  Mackie whipped a kick into the kid’s knee. He fell onto his side, discarded the branch, and clutched the leg, his face clenched in a tight mask of pain.

  Mackie slipped off the backpack, Sabbath thrashing and meowing inside, and stood over the aggressive newcomer, the Glock held low and pressed against his thigh.

  He’d club the little bastard again if need be, but he wouldn’t even think of squeezing off a shot—unless the kid had a gun of his own, which didn’t seem to be the case.

  And then the kid was on his knees, lunging half-assed at Mackie, wrapping his arms around Mackie’s waist, trying his damndest to get Mackie off his feet with all the effort his shattered knee and ruptured balls would allow.


  Mackie cracked the Glock’s handle against the kid’s ear. The kid yelped and fell flat on his face, sobbing.

  “Who are you?” Mackie asked.

  “I’m just...I’m just looking for Benny.”

  “Don’t know who that is.”

  “I know he was at the college. What the hell did you people do to him?”

  Oh shit.

  Now Mackie recognized him. “You were the one on the stairwell. In town.”

  “Yuh-yeah.”

  “Why did you run away?”

  “A crazy guy with a gun? You kidding me?”

  “What’s your name?” Mackie asked, letting the kid get a good look at the Glock.

  “Jason. Jason Hartsoe.”

  “You from Wendover Home, Jason?”

  “Yeah.”

  Which meant that Benny was Despondent Guy from the dining hall. The one Herrera iced without so much as an eye blink.

  “Is Benny your friend?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Get up.”

  Jason braced his hands on the ground beneath him like a kid doing push-ups, Mackie standing over him with the Glock like a sadistic gym coach. The kid made it to his knees, winced at the pain from Mackie’s kick, and slowly got his feet beneath him, hunched and shaky.

  “Benny, he’s from Wendover Home, too?” Mackie asked.

  The kid nodded. Mackie wouldn’t have been able to see the motion if the kid hadn’t been standing so close and the moon wasn’t so bright overhead.

  “Benny’s dead,” Mackie said.

  “Shut up.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Shut up.”

  Give him a second to process. Let him ask the questions.

  And then Jason was on him, screaming and swinging wildly. Mackie blocked the shots with his forearms and shoved a hard palm into the kid’s solar plexus, dropping him on his ass.

  “We fought them together...when they changed...became monsters,” Jason blubbered. “All of a sudden people started dropping dead all around us. But the ones that didn’t die, their eyes got all weird, like fires were burning inside them. One of them tried to get Benny, but we knocked him over and holed up where it was safe, wondering what in the hell was going on.”