The Infected (Book 5): Battleground

by Zuko, Joseph

  I did it. I severed her spinal column. Lindsey’s emotions were a mixture of relief and terror. Miranda was no longer a threat, but her upper lip and eyes were still active. They jerked back and forth as if the fight was still ongoing.

  Paul stomped next to Lindsey, grabbed Miranda by the shoulders and pulled her off the Doc. Lindsey sat forward, pints of fluid oozed off her chest and slid to the floor. She was like a scared, sopping wet kitten being pulled from a nasty sewer by a firefighter.

  Paul knelt beside Miranda’s disfigured body. Her eyes still twitched in their sockets, “She’s still alive?”

  She couldn’t face Brother Paul, not yet. Lindsey worked her arms out from her coat sleeves and let the wet fabric fall from her body. Her whole body shook. At first, she thought it was from the exertion. It took a tremendous amount of effort to almost remove someone’s head. Yes, her arms were full of blood as if she had finished a round of pushups and of course her lungs burned like she had run a mile, but that wasn’t what made her body tremble.

  It wasn’t until that moment she finally realized how terrified she was of this disease.

  Lindsey’s voice sounded thirty years older. “I was a fool.” She found her glasses on the floor and put them on, despite the blood on the lenses.

  Paul swallowed the lump in his throat, pressed his knife to the side of Miranda’s skull. “You thought you were doing the right thing.” The tip of the blade opened a slit in her skin. He forced the knife to the hilt and Miranda’s eyes froze.

  “There is no stopping this.” She reached for the edge of her desk, pulled herself to her feet and said, “All we can do is pray for a quick and painless death.”

  Paul wanted to yell, but what good would come from it. She was frail as a pile of ash, as if a strong gust could blast her apart. Screaming like a disappointed Father wouldn’t do either of them any good.

  If she wants to give up, how can I stop her? These deaths are on her.

  It is a mistake she will have to live with.

  The rear door to the building swung open. A fresh breeze filled the sour smelling room with sweet spring air. Paul craned his neck. A group of rifles aimed at them through the entry. After five seconds, a man stepped forward. He wore an old baseball cap and a pair of tactical sunglasses. The twenty-four hours’ worth of stubble across his cheeks was pitch black. His angular jaw hit the floor once he got a good view of the mayhem inside his beloved church. He lowered his rifle and stepped further into the building. He slid his glasses from the bridge of his nose and raised his cap. He inched closer to Greg and Patrick’s corpses.

  The man’s voice was deep and when he spoke there was no fear or hesitation. “Brother Paul? Are you okay, sir?” He nudged Greg’s shoulder with his boot.

  Paul extracted his K-Bar from Miranda’s skull and rose to his feet. Without cleaning the blade, he slid it into its sheath. It took him a few seconds, but Paul regained his composure, clutched his hands behind his back and faced the gentleman in the cap. The man was a recent rising star in the church. He was responsible for finding the WinCo semi-truck full of food and supplies. He also returned to the church in the nick of time and used the big rig to crush a thousand infected monsters in the street behind the building. Brother Paul cleared his dry throat and said, “Mr. Beaumont, we had a breach.”

  “I see,” said Beaumont. He tucked his sunglasses into his breast pocket and knelt next to Patrick. He rolled him to his side. “You can call me Cooper, sir.” Beaumont’s jaw clenched automatically. He glanced at Greg’s injuries. “I’ll have a team clear them, immediately.” He turned to the quivering Doctor as she leaned against her desk. Goo dripped from her blouse as she gazed into the distance. “Doctor Bryant?”

  She snapped out of her haze.

  “Are you injured?”

  “No… no I don’t believe so-” she trailed off.

  Paul spotted his pistol on the floor. He grabbed it and replaced the spent magazine. Paul’s voice waivered. “Too many good people have been… Today has… I have to…” Paul got lost for a moment as he pushed the magazine into the butt of his pistol. The pain at the back of his skull cried for attention.

  Cooper stepped across Tony’s body on his way to Paul’s side. “Pastor Michael’s message? Are we really hitting the road?”

  Slowly Paul placed his sidearm into his holster. “…Yes.”

  The news hit Cooper hard. His confident demeanor altered. He tugged at the brim of his hat, removed it, held it at his side, stepped closer and said, “It’s bad out there, sir.”

  Paul soaked in the dead bodies and the lake of blood that stretched from one side of the room to the other, “I am aware.” He watched as Cooper studied every nuance of his expression.

  He wants me to crack. Paul’s foundation was on the verge of collapse. His knees trembled. He was starving, hungover and exhausted, but he wasn’t about to fall apart here, not while there were so many people watching. Seconds before he could bark an order, Cooper whispered.

  “You’re bleeding.” Cooper nodded at Paul’s neck.

  Paul’s fingertips gently touched his scalp. They came back covered in red. “Doctor? Are you up to it?” He pointed to the wound.

  Bryant took off her glasses, cleaned the lenses and replaced them. She investigated the gash. “You’ll need stitches.” Her desk was covered in gore and the medical supplies were spread across the floor. She took a breath, and said, “I’ll find my kit.”

  Paul wasn’t confident she was ready to stitch him, but his choices for a surgeon were limited.

  Cooper inched closer. “Sir, I’ve got this.” He motioned at the people waiting by the door. “We need to add these to the others.”

  Paul realized he was wrong about Cooper.

  He is not trying to break me. He is only trying to help. He reached for the man’s muscular shoulder and gave it a pat.

  The radio clipped to Cooper’s hip chirped. A young and panicked voice hollered from the tiny speaker.

  “It’s Donny, over.”

  Cooper removed the radio and thumbed the receiver. “Cooper here, over.”

  “I’m the lookout on the corner of 130th and Forest.”

  Cooper spoke to Paul and Lindsey. “That’s a mile and a half out.” He keyed the radio. “What’s going on Donny?”

  “A large gathering is moving in from the south and heading your way.”

  “How many?” Asked Cooper.

  “Thousands!”

  Chapter 9

  Karen peered through the driver’s side window and into the Hockinson store. Her heart had been in her throat for the past few minutes as she watched the action unfold in the building. Sweat dripped from every pour on her forehead. It was stifling in the rig. The new cloud cover locked in the warm spring air and when you added in the rain it made it like a tropical jungle inside the bus. She ran her bandaged wrist across her face. The salty liquid soaked into the white cotton. Well, it wasn’t that white anymore. It had spots of dried blood. Some from her, but mostly it was infected gore. Yellow sweat stains ringed both ends of the bandage and the thing was giving off a horrible sour body odor smell.

  I need Troy to change this dressing, soon. Her wrist was still incredibly sore, but it was getting better. She flexed her fingers, their range of motion had improved.

  I wish I knew what the hell was going on in there? The downpour pinged off the bus’s metal roof. The white noise made it impossible to hear anything outside the rig. She knew the smart move was to stay put. Her husband groaned as he shifted in his seat. She turned from the store. Karen’s knee jerk reaction was to check and make sure Jim had not become one of those things. He was fine, thank God, but the idea of him turning and attacking the girls was… too much.

  Could I put a bullet through my husband’s skull?

  I put one through my Mama’s.

  Karen didn’t have the answer for sure and she prayed it would never come to that.

  Would Jim have the guts to put me down if I turned? So many q
uestions. She thought to herself but there was no way to answer them. All she could do was hope for the best.

  Jim was pale and covered with sweat. Yet, surprisingly, he had not complained about the pain.

  He has a tiny fever and he reverts into a whiny child.

  Stab him through the torso and he’s as quiet as a mouse. Karen chuckled to herself. She continued to watch the store. She wondered what was happening inside, but resigned to the fact her family needed her here.

  Jim isn’t ready to take on a puppy, let alone a grown man with a shotgun. But sitting around with her thumb jammed up her ass wasn’t fun either.

  Troy seems to have it under control…

  “Oh, shit!”

  And the next second, things inside the store were not under control.

  “Bad word,” chimed Valerie.

  Jim groaned, “What’s going on?” He sat forward.

  “Sara laid the stranger out.”

  Jim grinned as he said, “Sounds like her.” He relaxed into the seat and rested his weary head along the edge of the back support.

  The children played quietly with their new dolls in the seat next to Jim. He watched from the corner of his eye as they reenacted a session from Valerie’s kindergarten class. Val was an excellent teacher, yet Robin’s doll struggled to absorb the basics of her ABC’s.

  “I’m heading in,” said Karen as she rose from the driver’s seat. She readied her pistol and moved for the locked door. “You good?”

  “Pain meds are coursing through my muscly body as we speak. I’ll be a hundred percent within the hour.” He lied.

  Karen exited the door quickly and raced across the pavement. The engine of the Firebird clicked as it cooled, but it wasn’t the sound that stopped her cold in her tracks. It was the chained monster on the hood of the stranger’s ride that took her breath away. The infected woman’s restraints pulled tight as the creature fought to escape. It was beautiful, once. The thing strapped to the hood was a hot enough lady, even Karen would have taken a second peek. Karen stepped closer. The skin around the cuffs had worn away and exposed raw flesh covering the lower parts of its limbs. It had half a dozen bite marks down the length of her left arm. Blood ran off the slope of the hood as rain cleansed its naked body. The seven toenails it had left were painted hot pink and matched its gnarled fingers. The hair between its legs had been trimmed into the shape of a heart.

  Karen lowered her pistol as she took a few more steps. A little diamond sparkled on its belly button ring. A set of red pouty lips were tattooed on its hip.

  Damn, she was foxy! Its black eyes stayed locked on Karen. Tracking her every step.

  The sight of the tattered woman, hardened Karen’s anger toward the stranger.

  What kind of monster would chain a zombie to the hood?

  Karen talked to the creature like it understood. “If Sara didn’t kill him. I might.”

  The creature strained and stretched until it was about to dislocate its shoulders, but the restraints held firm.

  It’s secure, but why take the chance. Karen reasoned as she exchanged her pistol for the knife on her belt. She stepped out into the rain and moved along the side of the car. It lurched toward her. Snarled its lips and snapped its teeth.

  “I’m sorry,” whispered Karen as she aimed for the side of its skull. The tip of her blade found its way into the creature’s ear canal. Karen pinned it to the hood and its body went flat.

  Karen hurried to the front of the store. She was drenched to the core. Yet the spring rain felt refreshing. Not as good as a blistering hot shower, but damn close.

  Desiree met her at the entrance, unlocked it and let her in. “Welcome to the nuthouse.”

  “Is everyone okay?” Asked Karen as she hurried for her brother’s side.

  “We’re all good,” Troy gave her a reaffirming nod. “You should have stayed with the girls.”

  “Jim’s got them. I wanted to help load the supplies and get the hell out of here.” The closer Karen got to the stranger the more her anger grew.

  He’s an animal and the world doesn’t need him. She told herself. A fantasy played in her mind. She thought about shooting his pecker off or chaining him naked to the front of the bus. Karen wasn’t sure where the hostility was coming from, but it wasn’t sitting right with her. Something rattled around in her brain. It was a saying her Mama use to tell her when she was mad.

  Penny’s voice was clear, as if she was in the room beside her.

  ‘Sugar, once hate gets started, it’s impossible to stop.’ Mama was right, she was having a tough time shutting down the rage.

  The group gathered closer to the passed-out stranger.

  Shawna squatted next to him. She held two fingers against his thick neck. “He’s alive.” She checked the growing lump on his face. Then lifted his eyelid and checked his pupil. “He’s going to have an epic headache, maybe even a concussion, but he’ll live.”

  Unconscious, with a red boot print on the side of his face, made it difficult to want to enact her plan of mutilating his dick. In fact, finding him so helpless really soured her on the killing him idea. If he leapt to his feet, and raced after her then, yeah, she would have no problem blasting the fool. Torturing someone when they are unconscious was the act of a psychopath and she wasn’t at that level. Not yet, anyway.

  Karen let go of her anger, but the curiosity still lingered. “What happened?”

  With a nonchalant tone Sara said, “He’s an asshole.”

  Desiree lit another cigarette as she joined the circle. “The boy had it coming. Kudos to you for shutting his nasty fucking mouth.”

  Leon squatted beside Shawna.

  It’s like we’re playing cops on TV. His fantasy continued as he scanned Ryder’s limp body.

  Yep, we’re just two hard boiled Detectives, piecing together the clues of this grisly murder scene.

  All the while, the two of us struggle with our budding office romance.

  The story writes itself. He proclaimed as his imagination ran wild.

  The muscles in Leon’s hand twitched as if he spotted a clue that could crack this case wide open.

  Finally, we can take down the dirty, corrupt, Mayor, once and for all.

  The brightly colored box of condoms sat on the floor next to his boot. The very one Ryder asked Sara to hand him before all hell broke loose. It wasn’t a clue in the strictest sense of the word, but it got him thinking.

  I might need these… for later. Leon examined the contours of Shawna’s freshly cleaned face. She had lean features. Leon guessed she was probably not a drinker and judging by the muscles in her thighs, she was a runner. He loved the idea of an athletic lady. His slacks got tighter.

  Damn it! If I don’t jack off soon, my dick is going to explode like a hot dog in the microwave. The world coming to an end had really thrown his routine into a blender. He had been staring too long and turned away a split second before she caught him. He needed those condoms. To be on the safe side.

  I can’t run to the clinic if it burns when I take a piss. He didn’t want it to be obvious when he took the box of rubbers.

  I’ve got to create a distraction. Leon glanced around. Then he spotted something he could use in his plan. He reached for Ryder’s shotgun and pushed it out of the aisle. He performed a perfect sleight of hand. As everyone watched the gun glide along the linoleum, Leon plucked the box of condoms from the floor and hid them in his pocket. It would be a few more minutes before his shaft deflated. The embarrassment of his rock-hard dong kept him from standing. Without missing a beat, he asked, “What do we want to do with him?” He checked Sara first, but finished with Karen.

  The discussion should give me time. Leon concentrated. He needed to kill this boner, quick. He went to one of his saddest memories. The one that always worked. Leon’s mind flashed to the past.

  A young Leon sits alone in a dark theater. Tears stream down both cheeks. On the silver screen Bruce Willis, tells Ben Affleck, ‘You take care of yoursel
f.’

  He pushes a button that takes Ben up into the ship and off the world ending asteroid. ‘I love you, pal.’

  Ben cries on his knees. He says, ‘No wait, Harry I love you! Harry don’t do this! I love you! No wait a minute!’

  A stoic Bruce Willis calls him, ‘My son.’

  And Leon bawls uncontrollably.

  The room went silent as the question hung heavy in the air.

  What do you do with an asshole? Karen found her fingers dancing around the grip of her pistol. It was a little shocking that her subconscious wanted to cause the man harm. Some part of her must have been lumping this animal into the same category as the other maniac she encountered today.

  Eric…

  Even thinking the man’s name made her face go flush. She tried to calm her racing heart. It was a waste of energy to dwell on that shit. He was dead. The idea of it brought a smile to Karen’s swollen lips. She quickly shook it off and got back to the topic at hand.

  She studied Sara’s expression. The woman gave her nothing. No clue as to what she was thinking. A total blank slate.

  Sara’s fingers fidgeted with her shoulder harness. “Jim and I… well Frank was there too. We’ve dealt with a monster like him before. I wanted blood, so did Frank, but Jim said… He said ‘We are still alive and we aren’t like the monsters out there. We need to hold onto that for as long as we can.’ …and that’s what we need to do. Hold on to our humanity. We don’t have to kill him, but he’s not coming with us.” She went back to loading her bag with bathroom supplies. “Let’s grab some more and get out of here.”

  Karen holstered her pistol and went for a bag. A few moments ticked by and the others followed their example and got to work. They cleared full shelves in a matter of seconds.

  Troy found the makeshift cooler Ryder had been working on, “Hey, partner, help me with this?”

  Leon realized he was the partner Troy was talking to. Leon left his aisle and headed for the rear of the store, “What is it?” He spotted the box of brews. It was big enough to be awkward for one person to carry it. “That’s a good snag.”