“He’s welcomed to it. You reap what you sow. Look, I know you don’t believe me. Nothing I say will convince you. I just don’t care. I don’t want your forgiveness, I just wanted to warn you that your people were in danger. The madman that did this to me, the one that held the rest of your family at gunpoint, he found out from Nina about your compound and went looking for it. He’s dangerous, a rabid dog. He has to be put down,” Robert managed, taking momentary pauses to drink water as he spoke.
He cocked his head, “some could say the same about you.”
“I know. If I were in your place, I don’t know if I could be held back, a woman at my side or not. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’d already be dead. But something happened to me out there, something that reminded me of who I was, made me more aware of what I was turning into. I couldn’t—,” the bald man trailed off. “They made me eat her, you know that? Nina? The one that gave you that scar.”
“Oh good, the bitch is dead. Saves me the trouble of tracking her down,” he growled, unable to help himself. His face itched at being mentioned and his hand was trembling despite Ros’s grip on it.
“She didn’t deserve what happened to her, no one does,” Robert answered, ignoring the snide comment. “I don’t know how many went north, maybe ten. But knowing Renny, he will use weapons to gather more men and hit you as quickly as he’s able, before you can mount a defense. I don’t know why you’re still here, you should be on the road. You need to stop him.”
He sighed and looked away. “I’m still here because I have family that won’t leave, family I want to see safe. I want to take them with me, but I can’t be sure it’s any safer for them there rather than here. Not without knowing exactly what we’re facing on our journey north.”
“I’m sure that whatever it is you can handle it far better than I did,” Robert returned, then shifted in bed. “I’m going to click my button, this pain in my back is starting to get to me. I just wanted to be lucid long enough to say I’m sorry, so you knew it wasn’t the drugs talking. I really am. I’m sorry. If you change your mind and want to end this, I’ll be here. I don’t think I’ll be going much of anywhere anytime soon.”
“Don’t get comfortable thinking I won’t do just that. Sorry is not enough. And never will be,” he retorted, then turned and walked away, Rosilynn quickly falling in step behind him.
Chapter 6
Colville
Monica
Colville, WA
They stood next to a hangar, peering out from the side at the small parking area beyond. There was a black Ford extended cab F-150 sitting across from them, but it wasn’t alone. She needed a minute to process what she was seeing, but once she did, she raised her eyebrows and glanced in Mark’s direction. Speaking as softly as possible, she asked, “why are there so many crawling around like that?”
Thunder roared overhead and she knew that within minutes rain would start to follow after. The storm front had intensified since they’d gotten off the plane, and if it came down excessively hard, they might have a difficult time getting where they needed to go. Sneaking around a forest in the dark, getting drenched, would likely get them lost. She had seen Blair Witch too many times to feel comfortable with that.
“I don’t know,” Mark answered, just as confused.
Scattered across the dirt lot were fifteen or so of the infected, most of which were crawling around, their hands digging into the dirt and pulling themselves in circles, as if unable to get on their feet and move about normally. They were seriously fucked up, flesh was peeling off their bodies and she could see bits of bone through the tissue. A large host of flies followed them around, landing furiously upon their decayed skin in sickening waves of persistence. There were a few that were still on their feet, but they appeared fresher, as gross as that was, then their fallen comrades.
John stepped around the corner to get a better look and she felt like slapping him upside the head. Probably would have if she wasn’t worried about drawing the attention of the undead so close to their position. He ducked back around the corner, then actually cracked a smile. “It looks like multiple generations out there. Like, day zero versus day three or four. The earliest ones are decaying to the point of being immobile.”
“They’re still zombies, why the hell are you smiling?” Naima snarked, giving him an incredulous look.
“Don’t you get it? It’s only been four days and they are starting to fall apart. That means this shit could be over a lot sooner than anyone thought,” he responded, looking around at the others like they should be sharing in his joy. “If they rot naturally, like any other dead body, then we could be free of them by the end of next week. Come on, how is that not good news?”
She was having a hard time comprehending what she was seeing with what she thought she knew. Even though she appreciated what he was saying, her brow was still furrowed as she tried to mentally work it out. She had been a fan of the Resident Evil series and even though they didn’t disclose just how long the plague ran, there was still a hell of a lot of creatures roaming around even after six movies. That all didn’t happen in two weeks—Then again, basing what was happening on a movie seemed incredibly stupid and once again she would just have to readjust her thinking to how things really appeared to be happening.
“Are you saying we can probably go home soon? That this may all end?” Naima asked hopefully.
As much as she wanted to believe that was an option; she didn’t dare put any stock in it. There really was no going back for any of them. It was dangerous to think otherwise. Best to accept how things were now rather than not fully commit and end up failing because of it.
Vitarius snorted. “What home? What are you going to go back to? Are you kidding me with this shit?” he asked, mirroring her own inner thoughts.
“Hey dude, relax,” Mark broke in, giving the younger man a reproachful look.
Vitarius shouldered his rifle and drew himself up. “All I’m saying is, no matter what happens, you don’t have anything to really go back to. Do you think your job is waiting for you? Who’s going to need your services even if it is? Is the power going to be on? The water? Who’s going to answer, if you can even use a phone to call 911? Is your house still standing? What if your fridge breaks, or the a/c stops working? You see those folks out there?” he asked, nodding towards the undead beyond. “That’s your work force. Your farmers, your meter readers, your mailmen, your convenience store clerks. Hell, your police force. Almost everyone everywhere is dead. So tell me, do you really have a home to go to? Why not just stay where you are? Rebuild? I’ve seen what you all have to work with. What do you not have there that you can get somewhere else? If you miss going to the movies or out to dinner, I’m sorry, but that shit is just gone. Hollywood is closed my friends.”
“Is it wrong to let people have a little hope? That they might get parts of their lives back? Why do you have to be such a downer?” Jenn broke in, her hand nervously shifting a strap on her backpack as she shifted from one foot to the other.
“Help me Obi—,” John began and cut off as she threw him a nasty glance. “Sorry.”
She heard thunder echo around them and felt water strike her forehead. It was time to go. “Let’s get to that truck.” As she stepped around the corner, she immediately froze as her phone rang. This can’t be happening.
“What the fuck? I thought you turned that shit off?” John asked, wide-eyed. “Oh my God, you people are driving me insane!”
Their presence was no longer a secret and the three walkers that had been pacing around turned, instantly dashing in their direction.
“Oh, fuck me, I did turn it off. I swear,” she growled, turning as the others rushed forward to kill the monsters bearing down on them. She slid her phone out of her back pouch and stared at it with astonishment. She had turned it off, yet here it was, vibrating in her hands with a phone number she didn’t recognize. “Hello?” she asked, wondering who the hell had her number and what was going on?
<
br /> “Mrs. Monica Raines?” a voice asked on the other end. He was male and sounded young, but other than that, she had no fucking clue.
She watched as Mark’s axe beheaded one and Naima shot another. She wanted to jump in and help them, but couldn’t do shit with this phone glued to her ear. “Sure, go with that. Do you have any idea what you just did? You have bad timing asswipe. So best tell me who this is so I know whose ass to kick later.”
“Mrs. Raines, please hold for the President of the United States,” the voice told her in a mechanical drone, ignoring the hostility in her voice.
Her breath caught in her chest. What the fuck? Was she awake or still asleep on the plane? There was no fucking way!
“Hello? Mrs. Raines?” came a voice she’d only ever heard over the television.
Through the phone line it sounded just a little different; but she had no doubt who it was she was speaking with. “Yes, Madam President, this is Monica Raines,” she answered hesitantly. What was the President doing calling her? How’d she even get the number? Since when did the President of the United States make house calls? Were they that undermanned?
“I understand that this comes as a surprise. I apologize for ordering your phone turned back on, but I felt that circumstances demanded it. I didn’t catch you at a bad time, did I?” the woman asked.
She couldn’t help but laugh. Was there ever a good time lately? John had taken care of the third zombie, and the rest were working through the crawlers, dispatching them easily and with little fuss. “No, I’m good. How can I help you, Madam President?” she returned, relaxing as the last of the undead were killed and John stared menacingly in her direction. The fact that she continued to look stupid in front of him was not lost on her. Sooner or later, he would snap and who knew what would happen then.
“I apologize if I caused any trouble, but I’m sure you can understand the difficulty the present state of events has created in determining the best course of action when dealing with situations such as this. I wanted to personally touch base with you, as I’ve been told that you know the man responsible for all of this, that you are currently in route to his location,” came the voice on the other end and her heart began to beat even faster.
What did she say? How the hell would she know that? She was sure that Todd knew by now, but he wouldn’t dare call anybody about it, not with their family’s lives at stake. Or would he? Would he not trust in her that much that he would go behind her back and call someone like the President to stop her? What did that say for their marriage? Yet, she knew she couldn’t very well deny it. The President said she had her phone turned back on, so they knew exactly where she was at. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be talking on this phone,” she managed, thinking their cover was so blown that maybe there wasn’t a point to hiding it anymore, but still, she had to try.
“I understand,” the President returned. “I was told that there was some worry about whether this man was monitoring your communications. I’ve had my techs analyze your system just to be thorough and they assure me that this conversation is secure. Now, do you know where this man is or was I mislead? Is he really responsible for what is tearing our Nation apart? I cannot stress enough how important that it is that you be frank with me, give me the God’s honest truth.”
She waved John off, his pissed-off glares starting to grate on her nerves. She turned away from the others, put a finger in her ear, then glanced back at the runway and the plane sitting nearby. “I apologize, my mother raised me not to be a bullshitter, so I’ll just say it,” she began. “Yes, the man we are after caused this. I’ve personally seen the proof and heard it straight out of his cackling mouth. We thought he was a friend, but we were nothing but pawns, pieces to be moved about. He is responsible for everything, including personally killing my friends, people who trusted him. He’s proud of what he’s done and is having a grand ol’ time about all of this, so we’ve come up here to end his sorry ass once and for all.”
“I appreciate your candor young lady,” the woman on the other end replied, and Monica thought she could hear a smile through the thousand miles between. “However, I can’t let you do that.”
“You can’t let me?” she blurted, momentarily forgetting who she was talking to. What was that about?
The President sighed, then spoke further, “let me be clear, I cannot allow you to kill this man. If he started it, he might be able to end it. We need what he knows and can’t take the chance that his death will mean the death of millions when there might be another way. Is there a cure, a vaccine just waiting to be found? As the man that funded and created this thing, he is the only one that will know that. I’m sorry to say, your vengeance will have to wait. He’s too damn important.”
“Excuse me, Madam President, I understand all that, but—,” she trailed off as the woman on the other end overrode her.
“There’s also the fact that Mr. Flaggerty must be held accountable for what he has done. Do you have any idea how many have died since this all began? How many are still dying? He needs to be brought in and tried, then executed for his crimes. You do not have the right to take the law into your own hands, young lady,” the President chastised.
“The hell I don’t,” she growled. “I almost died because of that fuck, and he sat there and laughed about it, getting personal joy over the death of my friends. Even if he hadn’t been responsible for all the rest, I would kill him just for that. You don’t allow a rabid dog to live any longer than you have to, Madam President. You don’t take him to a kennel and hope he plays nice. You put a bullet in his head, plain and simple.”
“Must I remind you who—,” Michelle Obama began.
“No, you don’t,” she cut in, feeling more riled by the second. The rest of her group had come back and were standing nearby, just within earshot, and she could feel their eyes burning holes in her back. “I know who you are and I have a great amount of respect for you, but you are in Montana. Your military is fighting just to stay alive and we don’t have time to wait for you to get around to him. If he gets wind about what is about to go down, he will flee, and we might never get another shot at him. This needs to end now.”
There was a moment of silence, then the President asked, “are you done? May I finish talking?”
She fumed silently, twisting her foot on the tarmac and trying to decide if she should just end the call and shut the damned thing off, but they’d probably just turn it right the fuck back on and never stop until she answered it again. If it happened again at a time when they were dealing with even larger numbers of undead— “Yes,” she finally growled, relenting.
“I’ve already dispatched forces to your Arizona compound to acquire the evidence you have in your possession, and several Nighthawk helicopters have been sent to the one you’re heading to. By the time you get there, it may already be over. I understand that this is hard for you, but I need you to stand down. Not because I really care what you do to him, but because I don’t need any more deaths on my conscience. I’ve ordered enough of those already. If Mr. Flaggerty does not surrender himself and come quietly, my men have been given the shoot to kill order. I cannot guarantee your safety if that happens,” the President told her and her heart slowed at the remorse in the woman’s voice.
She paused to let herself cool down. The woman’s voice really sounded like she cared and it was hard to be a total bitch in the face of that—well, almost. “I understand. We have to try anyways. I can’t go home unless I know he’s dead. Do you understand that?” she returned, glancing at Mark and seeing the man nod in agreement. “I owe it to my friends to see it through.”
The line went silent and she thought that she got disconnected, then another sigh came and she knew that the other woman was just trying to decide on what to say. “Okay. I’ll make sure my men know you’re coming. Just do me one favor? Wait for them to get there before you do anything.”
“I’ll try,” she grudgingly consented.
“That’s all I c
an ask. Thank you and be careful out there,” the President replied, then hung up.
“What the hell was that all about?” John exclaimed.
Standing there, phone in hand, she glanced towards the mountains to the northeast and imagined Sean sitting there in his entertainment room, listening to Rob Zombie while drinking bourbon. Fresh hate stirred within. Military or not, they were going up there and they’d do what needed to be done; promises be damned. “That, was the President of the United States.”
“Bullshit,” Vitarius coughed.
She glared at him, then looked towards the others. “We’ve been ordered to stand down. Anyone want to do that?” Jenn’s eyes mirrored hers and she knew instantly where she stood. Naima looked nervously at the others as Mark shook his head, hand tightening on the axe. Vitarius still didn’t look like he believed her and John was giving her a questioning look as well. “I’m going. You can stay at the plane, or come with. That’s your choice. I asked you to come along when it was just going to be us, but this changes things. If you don’t want to go, stay here and play poker with Raul,” she told them curtly, her impatience overriding her need for a consensus.
“The President—of the United States?” John asked, and for the first time since they met, she thought the man was truly at a loss for words. “How—how did she get your number?”
She shook her head. She had no clue, but she needed to find out. “I’m going to call Todd, find out what’s going on. Then we can head out.” Stepping away, she dialed Todd’s number, put it to her ear, and finally called her husband. He had a lot of explaining to do.
Chapter 7
Rush
Todd
Safford, AZ
“Okay,” he finished, but she was already gone. “Love you too,” he said into the disconnected receiver, then hit the power button and stood there in silence. Well, that didn’t go so well. Rosilynn was waiting patiently in a waiting room chair, members of his family hovering nearby as he returned his attention to the conversation they had been having. “I don’t feel so paranoid anymore,” he told them as he pocketed his phone. “Apparently, they turned Monica’s phone on remotely so that they could talk to her.” Ros’s eyebrows rose with interest, but he waved off any further conversation about it. There would be time enough for that later. “So, have you all decided what you want to do? You really shouldn’t stay here. I realize that you think it’s best, but let’s be serious, look at what’s already happened and this shit has only just begun.”
The Rotting Souls Series (Book 4): Charon's Coffers Page 5
