by R. J. Spears
She reached down and slowly pulled his hands off Maggie’s body, taking it on herself and slowly lowering Maggie to the floor. Then she stood up and put out a hand toward Russell.
“Take my hand Russell,” she said. “We’ve got to go even though I know you don’t want to move. When I lost Greg, I felt like I’d never move again, but I knew I had to. You have to. Take my hand. Please.”
“Wait,” he said. “Let me get the vest off.”
“I thought you said it was burned out?” Ellen asked.
“It might be useful later,” he said, his voice shaking.
It took him about twenty seconds to get the vest off, and the effort seemed to have taken everything out of him. He looked up to her, his eyes filled with tears. She put out her hand again. It took a few seconds, but he stuck out his hand, taking hers. He had little strength left in his body, but with Ellen pulling, he was able to get to his feet as he leaned into her for support. The vest dangled from his hand. Ellen tried to grab it, but he pulled it away from her as if it were a priceless memento. Maybe it was.
Madison moved onto Russell’s other side and threw a supportive arm around his waist, helping more from an emotional perspective than a physical one.
“You don’t know it now, but you’ll make it through this,” Madison said. “I lost everything and did. You either make it or you die.” She spoke the words cold and flatly, but they seemed to kick start Russell into motion as they huddled in the hallway with the other hostages.
The entire group had stopped because they didn’t know what to do. The only thing that had been important was getting out of the dining room. They all looked at each other with expressions that seemed to ask, “Now what?”
Jo, Henry, and Del and Sergeant Jones converged in the middle of the dining room, keeping a watchful eye on the exit the soldiers had left through. The small handfuls of hostages, who had just fled the chaos in the room followed them back into the dining room like sheep, lost and hoping for the shepherds to guide the way. None of them looked entirely comfortable with their position, but it seemed the best place to gather.
Jo and Henry moved through the small crowd, hugging people or patting them on the backs. Despite what they had been through, a few of them even smiled back at her. None of them felt totally safe, but they all shared the communal relief that they had dodged a proverbial and literal bullet.
Del sought out his girlfriend and son, hugging them both and tossing his son in the air. There were a few moments of real joy during the last year and a half, but this was one of those moments, complete with giggles and even tears. Too bad it couldn’t last.
Jones stood off to the side, his arms crossed, aloof and remote from the reunions. He felt apart from the people he had just helped save. The people he had just risked his life for and tossed away his future. He caught the sideways glances, the suspicious peeks. There was little trust from the Manor people toward the soldiers. He couldn’t blame them, but he had risked it all for them. Not that they owed him anything. He knew and accepted that, but he felt like an island, in and of himself.
Jo broke free from the scrum of people and slid through the group toward Jones. She felt eyes on her back the whole way.
When she got beside him, she asked, “Were they serious about the reinforcements?”
Jones rubbed his chin, then said, “I think so. Kilgore stressed the whole relationship with Wright-Patt, but the link was probably still strong enough for a Mayday call. Back on base, we were a tight group. Brothers in arms. They wouldn’t leave us hanging.”
“What do we do?” She asked as she looked over the people they had just rescued, wondering if any of them would be alive in an hour. It seemed so patently unfair that they had just risked it all, only to be wiped out later.
“One option is to stay and fight,” he said, unconsciously rubbing the stock of his weapon. “I don’t like it. We don’t have the fighters or the weapons, and I can guarantee that they will be bringing both in spades. And I’m not sure I can fight alongside you any longer.”
Jo felt something twisting inside her and collapsing in on itself, hope squeezing out of her like air from a balloon. “What do we do, then?”
“You could run,” Jones said.
“But this is our home,” she said. “We fought for it. We paid for it with blood.”
Jones leaned in closer to her, keeping his voice low, and said, “Listen, none of that matters. You fight, you die. The only option is to run.”
“But how?” she asked. “Look at them. Most of them are old. With exception of a couple the men, the rest are women and children.”
Jones fixed her in a stare and the corners of his mouth went up in a sly smile, “You did pretty good. And that little girl shot two men down without blinking.”
“Okay, okay, we run, but how? There’s a lot of us and we can’t just walk out of here.”
“When we came in, we came in with some big trucks.”
“But those are the soldier’s,” she said.
“Not if we take them,” he said, his smile getting wider. “But we have to do this fast, like right away. You need to convince them. They won’t listen to me.”
Not wasting any time, she whirled away from Jones and stalked back over to the group.
“Everyone, listen up, we have to get out of here,” she yelled. “We have to move right now.”
You would think that would be all it took, but the people looked bewildered. They wanted a few more minutes of the pleasant reunion before they had to run for their lives. Who wouldn’t?
Jones moved out of the shadows and sauntered into the midst of the people, seeming to appraise each of them. They gave him a wide berth, as if he were some sort of wild and dangerous beast.
He stopped walking and said, “Listen, I know you don’t trust me. I don’t blame you, but you have to trust her.” He pointed at Jo. “I know what’s coming and you will not be able to stand up against it.” He let that hang in the air for a moment. “If you don’t get out of here now, you will all die.”
That broke the damn. They firmly believed what Jones had said, still they were afraid. Afraid of him, but more afraid of the soldiers and what was coming.
Jones and Jo took the lead with Henry and Del following at the back of the group. Russell walked in among the elderly people, shuffling along unsteadily, looking lost and broken. They navigated to the rear of the building as quietly as a small group of people could. Jones kept them to side hallways, skirting around the areas where he thought the soldiers would pull back to.
He got that right. The soldiers were better armed, but they had had enough. Besides the cavalry was on its way and there would be hell to pay when they arrived.
They made it to the back dock where the two large transport vehicles were parked. It took a few minutes to load up in an orderly fashion. A couple of the younger children cried when they knew they were leaving. They knew there were monsters out there, but Jones and Jo were afraid of the human ones this time.
Jo took a truck and Jones took the other one. The gas tanks were half full, but that was enough gas to get them away. Far enough, at least.
They drove out the main drive just as the sun broke the horizon in the east.
Chapter 48
This is the End, Beautiful Friend, the End
Seven. Lucky seven. At least, that’s what I wanted to believe.
Lucky seven bullets are what I had left. There were more than seven zombies in front of me. Maybe a dozen. Maybe twenty.
Doing the math was easy. Seven bullets. Fifteen to twenty zombies. I was at a deficit.
Of course, I might have to subtract two bullets. One for Kara and one for me. Neither one of us wanted to be mauled to death by the undead. It wasn’t on our bucket list, I can tell you that.
You’ve all heard the sad sack say, “If it weren’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have any luck at all.” Well, that’s how I felt that night. All out of luck. Out of options.
They were coming,
shuffling and shambling in that way that they do. The group started to part around the flames coming from the lip of the barrel when I said to Kara, “Lean against the door way, I need to do something.” She slid off me and went to one knee in a semi-controlled fall, canting into toward the side of the doorway. It looked like she might drop over backward at any second.
I jumped forward and gave the barrel a vicious kick sending it spinning into two zombies on our left. It tilted into their bodies, sending sparks and flames in a concentrated eruption from the mouth of the barrel. Flames wrapped around their bodies and their clothes ignited. It was a sight to see, I tell you. They looked like giant candles. Giant walking and burning candles to be more exact.
Zombies don’t have too many smarts, but their shriveled little primal, lizard brains recognized fire and, in a way, respected it. Man had been around fire for a few thousand years. No stinking virus was going to squelch that ingrained fear.
The two zombies on fire didn’t scream or do much of anything, but their moans became high pitched. They flailed away from the barrel colliding with two more of their undead comrades, knocking them down to the ground where the flames spread to their bodies. Isn’t sharing nice, I thought.
Four down, a dozen more to go.
I danced backward toward the doorway while bringing my gun up and swiveling my aim to my right. I had to make every shot count, so that meant I had to let them close on me, closer than I felt comfortable.
They made it to my personal line in the sand (which was about five feet) and I fired. My aim was sloppy because my hand was shaking from fatigue, but at that distance, I could get the job done. Three shots, three head wounds, and three downed zombies.
In the state I was in that was an achievement. Maybe enough for a medal but no one was giving them out that night. The problem was that this competition wasn’t like horseshoes or hand grenades where close enough worked. I had to take all of those undead bastards out. I had, maybe, the strength to handle one with my bare hands, but that was it.
A partially burning zombie headed my way on my left and I turned in that direction and maybe I panicked a little. It’s not every day you see a flaming zombie coming at you. Anyway, my first shot slammed into the things chest, making a dull, wet thudding impact.
Shit. The zombie lost a step but kept on coming.
Three bullets left. One if I had to go with my optional and less desirable exit strategy. And that was looking more likely.
I steadied my aim and blew the thing’s brains out. It collapsed like a house of cards.
Two bullets.
My assessment and recalculations were not good. A new ring of zombies was only ten to twelve feet out and I thought I saw more past them turning in our direction. The odds were stacking up against us in a monumental way.
I turned back to Kara and looked to her. Her head lolled back, and she stared up at me.
The love I felt for her at that moment was incalculable. I was nearly bowled over by it.
Our eyes meant and so many things were said but without words. While she was almost dead on her feet, her mind was still working. She had totaled the cruel equation coming down on us and she knew the solution. It was the same as mine. We were done for.
I hated that it had come down to this. One step too far to go. One mountain too high to climb. One valley, too far to cross.
It seemed like there were some song lyrics in there somewhere.
Still, with the unspoken words, a million things were communicated. At least Naveen was safe. At least Jason was free to finish the quest. At least we had gotten together. At least we had gotten to love each other.
It was almost imperceptible, but she gave me the slightest of nods. The green light to proceed with the unthinkable. Her head either fell to her chest because she was so exhausted or because she didn’t want to see it coming. Who would?
I certainly didn’t want to be the one delivering the merciful exit, but there was no one else around.
I brought up my gun to aim at her as I took one last glance over my shoulder. Ten or more zombies in the front row were coming on strong. My attention went back to the task at hand as I aimed at the top of Kara’s head.
If I had had time, I probably would have cried or something, but there was no time.
My finger tensed on the trigger as my mind yelled, “Do it!” but my heart asked me what the hell I was doing. Milliseconds passed as my finger held the trigger waiting for my heart to learn what my head already knew -- we were doomed. Taking our exit was better than what the zombies had in store for us.
I increased the pressure on the trigger, knowing I was so close to reaching the point of no return when a loud roaring noise sounded to my left. Bright beams of light caught me standing there, arm out, hand shaking, the gun pointed at Kara’s head.
The lights grew in intensity as the roaring sound got closer. I let my finger relax, but only slightly.
The zombies paused, too, bathed in the light from the beams. Caught like kids with their hands in the cookie jar.
The roaring of an engine filled the air, and the lights seemed like little supernovas as they got closer, bearing down on us.
It was a car or truck. I couldn’t tell. The lights had rendered me nearly blind. I brought my free hand in a failed attempt to ward off the the brilliance of the lights.
New questions filled my head. Was this Kilgore coming to put us out of our combined misery? Or to take us captive and to torture us until we told him where Jason was headed?
Or was it the last of Marlow’s men coming to exact their revenge?
My aim went back to Kara, poised to shoot, but I held off until there was no other choice.
It seemed a lot like whoever was in the vehicle barreling our way was going to remove my choice because they were getting ready to make roadkill out of me.
My finger tensed the trigger as I watched the lights fill my field of vision. I was certain they were going to run me over, but then the lights jerked to the right and away from me. Zombies went flying off the grill of a large pickup truck like rag dolls or went under it to have the half-life squeezed out of them by the tires.
The driver slammed on the brakes and slid twenty feet on the wet grass. The harsh mechanical sound of the truck transmission being forced into reverse filtered my way, as I stood there, stunned.
A single zombie missed in the first sweep started towards me, but I seemed incapable of motion of any kind.
The truck flew in reverse. The zombie paid it no heed, and that was its problem.
The back end of the truck hit the zombie like a giant pile driver, shattered its bones and sent it rolling along the ground, legs and arms flopping in unnatural angles.
When I looked into the bed of the dual cab long bed Ford 250, I saw Jason smiling back at me. He looked weary and wobbly, but his smile lighted up my night.
Brent looked over his shoulder and said, “Are you alright?”
“I told you guys to leave,” I said.
Brother Ed’s voice sounded off to my left, and I turned that way and saw him leaning his head out the driver’s window. He said, “We couldn’t leave you. Where would we get all our laughs?”
I shook my head and even smiled a little, but then I heard a few shots echoing down the hallway behind Kara. Then I heard a new voice shout, “I heard the sound of an engine this way.”
“We need to go, and go now,” I said, then continued. “Kara’s hurt bad.”
With that, Brent, Jason, and Naveen vaulted out of the bed of the pickup and rushed to where Kara was in the doorway. Her head rolled to the side, and she seemed on the edge of unconsciousness or worse. As gently as they could, they lifted her and dragged her over to the back of the pickup where Naveen let down the tailgate.
I stumbled over with them and, with what little strength I had left, helped ease Kara into the bed of the pickup. Brent went to work immediately, assessing her vital signs as I stood there looking in at the woman I loved and the people I loved.<
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My legs felt rubbery as I stood there feeling as if I might collapse at any moment. My world shifted, a wave of blackness with blue pinpoint lights washed in, threatening to swamp me. The next thing I felt was a tiny, but firm hand on my shoulder, tugging me into the tailgate, bolstering me up.
The wave of black washed back out to sea, and I saw Naveen looking at me. Her eyes were wide, catching glints from the moon.
She said, “You’d better get in the truck, dad. Those voices are getting closer and you’re about to fall down.”
Jason moved back down the bed of the truck, shot out a hand in my direction. It hung in the air for several seconds until I used every fiber of my will to push my hand up to take his. Jason’s not a big guy, but he somehow tugged me up into the truck where I fell on my side facing to where Brent was kneeling next to Kara.
“How’s Kara?” I croaked out.
Brent turned back to me and said, “I can’t tell, but not great. Her vitals are low but steady. We need to get her somewhere I can check her more thoroughly.”
“Okay,” was all I could say.
I pushed out a hand, reaching past Brent, searching for Kara’s hand. It took me a few seconds, but my hand finally found hers and closed on it. It felt cold and lifeless, but I squeezed it, hoping to send any of my energy to her.
After a couple of seconds, I felt the gentlest of squeezes come back. She was still with us. With me.
Jason moved forward towards the cab and slammed his hand on the roof twice. That must have been the cue because Brother Ed goosed the gas pedal and the truck jerked forward. The ride was bouncy, but my body barely felt it as we jostled along.
I looked up into the night sky, seeing the last of the stars of that long night. At the edge of my vision which I took to be toward the east, I could see the tiniest ebb of pink diffused light threatening the supremacy of the darkness, like it had done for thousands of years. The day taking out the night, the night taking down the day, the whole battle happening all over again, every day.
