Decay (Book 2): Humanity

by Locke, Linus

  He stood up and looked at the bicycle shop he had crashed in front of. Inside the store, two more fiends pounded frantically at the glass. Jonathan climbed out of the snow pile and walked out of the snowy parking lot, wanting nothing more than to see some sign of help on the dark street. Instead, he looked at the horde of undead filling Grandview Avenue as they marched toward the commotion. “Guillermo!” he shouted and ran back to the car.

  More fiends began to come around the orange building across the street. The sign for the Mexican restaurant lay on its side facing the street. The orange paint reflected what little light there was. The bitter wind blew in Jonathan’s face as he tried to keep his balance in the snow pile.

  “Guillermo, you have to wake up. I know you are almost dead, but we have to move or you will be completely.” Jonathan shook his friend, checked that he was still breathing, and shook him some more. No response. He turned back to the street, estimated about a hundred fiends, and then he heard it, the low rumble of a large engine. It revved up several times; the exhaust exhaled a cackling sound like a stock car awaiting the green flag.

  The big black school bus rolled to a stop in the street thirty yards away from the BMW. Lights of all colors flashed wildly from the roof, lighting up the night sky. Jonathan almost felt like he was tripping out on some drug or another. The fiends surrounded the bus, rocking it and hammering on the sides. The sides, from what Jonathan could tell, were reinforced with a steel grated fence that must have weighed the bus down considerably. The top of the fence was wrapped in razor wire like a prison trying to deter the inmates from escaping.

  Clank. With the fiends all around the bus, Jonathan watched as the steel grated fencing swung down like a flyswatter of mass destruction. The high-pitched wail of metal-on-metal cried out from the hinges as the heavy fence streaked toward the street. Flesh and blood splattered everywhere as the fiends were smashed into the cold pavement. There was a sickening patter as wet body chunks hit the concrete. The fiends in the front were cut in half by a long blade that swept out, slicing through them, while the fiends at the back of the bus were set on fire by a blanket of flames.

  With the undead threat eliminated, the bus rolled forward slowly, crushing the fiends underneath it. Then it backed up and drove forward again, working its way across the width of the street in this slightly excessive fashion. The fiends that had once lain in its path were now a gooey paste. Jonathan’s stomach dropped as he realized that the death bus was driving toward him. He was hoping to be saved, but he wasn’t sure if this would be any better for him. With the intention of protecting Guillermo he climbed over the BMW and grabbed a rifle from the back seat.

  Jonathan crouched behind the car and steadied the rifle against his shoulder. He watched as a man stepped down from the bus. The flashing lights had stopped, but there were several lights still shining. The backlit man was nothing but a wild haired silhouette which made Jonathan think Beetlejuice had just jumped out of the bus in that crazy black and white striped suit.

  “What do you want?”

  “I just saved your ass, kid. You better adjust your attitude before I bounce your head off the hood of that car,” the man said in a strangely friendly way, but Jonathan wouldn’t trust anyone.

  “I will shoot you if it comes to it.”

  “I expect you would, but you will only have to if I can’t trust you,” the man retorted. “Are you alright? Why don’t you put th-“ the man paused, strained his eyes a little as he looked at Jonathan behind the headlights of the BMW, then asked, “Michael?”

  “What?” Jonathan straightened a little.

  “Michael? I thought you were staying at the shop. Is everything alright?”

  “How do you know Michael?” asked Jonathan as he fought to climb down from the snow pile.

  “Jonathan?” the man asked after staring at the teen for several long seconds.

  Jonathan placed the rifle strap across his shoulders and walked toward the man. “Who are you?”

  The man laughed a hearty laugh. “Mad Man Rob. Pleased to meet you, Jonathan. Your brother told me a lot about you.”

  “Please take me to him. I have a friend with me.” Jonathan pointed to the BMW. “He is hurt pretty bad.”

  It took Mad Man Rob a few minutes to tie a chain to the BMW and pulled it out of the snow. With a flashlight in hand, he crawled around the car inspecting the undercarriage. “It looks like it should be alright but the exhaust is torn off. Your brake and fuel lines look good. I can’t really get a great look from here, but I’ll check it out more when we get back to my shop. You really need to be careful driving in this weather.”

  “I did not think it would be icy. It was raining, after all,” Jonathan said, embarrassed.

  Mad Man Rob laughed again. “Welcome to Iowa. It’s cold as hell one day, warm the next. Snowy the day after that and a muddy mess the next day. A warm rainy day can turn this place into an ice rink in no time. A freezing cold rainy day can end badly in an instant. Now let’s hurry and get you and your friend warshed up.”

  Jonathan climbed into the BMW, started the engine and was hit with a cold blast of air from the vents. He quickly pressed the button to shut the blower off. It wasn’t until he wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel that he realized how cold it had been. Even his fingers would barely curl. As he followed behind the black bus, Jonathan kept a close eye on Guillermo. When it was time for Guillermo to die, Jonathan didn’t want it to be at the decaying hands of the fiends, but he wasn’t ready for that time to be now.

  Sloppy chunks of fiend splattered against the pavement as it fell from the razor wire fence around the bus. Jonathan tried to keep his distance, but he could already see the goo roll up the hood toward the windshield. Hopefully there is a car wash still open. He eased up on the accelerator as the death bus slowed down in front of him and turned off of what the road sign labeled Stewart Rd.

  They had been heading south for some time now. Jonathan grew anxious as the bus putted along. He really wished that the Mad Man driving it would move his ass. Fifty-Five was not an acceptable speed when his friend’s life was at stake. At one point he had pulled up alongside the bus and honked. Jonathan could just make out Mad Man Rob’s middle finger pressed against the window as he laughed that hearty laugh.

  The bus made one more turn and Jonathan saw the fire station, or small town firebarn, on his left. Thoughts of Deacon, Sophia, and the twins came to mind as he turned onto the next street and watched the small building as he drove past. He missed them, and he really hoped he would make it back to them. More than anything though, he hoped he could turn this world back into a safe place for the twins to grow up in.

  A half a mile down the road Jonathan saw what used to be a housing addition out of the passenger side of the BMW. Most of the homes had been burned down or torn apart, and there was debris in the yards under the patches of snow. Jonathan turned his focus back to the bus in front of him just in time to see that it had come to a stop in the middle of the road. Up close he could see that the license plate was just a stainless steel plate that read CREEPR 1. The writing was done in welds.

  Jonathan was amazed at the massive wall that the bus had stopped next to. He estimated it around twenty feet high, and it was made of large sheets of tin and steel, boards, and what appeared to be body parts from cars, trucks, and busses. That is only what he could see in the dark. Jonathan was amazed by the sight of the massive wall, and after what seemed like forever, a man ran out of a small door and jumped on the bus. A minute later he climbed off and ran back to the BMW. Jonathan rolled the passenger side window down as the man approached. “Hello,” Jonathan said.

  “Your friend was bitten?” the man asked. Jonathan could tell he was gripping a pistol under his heavy coat.

  “No. We had an accident. He hit his head pretty hard,” Jonathan explained. “I was going too fast in the rain. Hit some ice.”

  “Pull ahead of the bus. I’ll open the gate. Drive in slowly,” the man warned
, dragging out the last sentence.

  “Thanks.” Jonathan followed the man around the bus and saw the large opening in the gate. A soft light trickled out and spilled into the snowy field on the opposite side of the street. Jonathan had to squint as he pulled in and was stopped by the man that came out to greet him.

  “Pull a head just a little,” the man said as he waved the BMW in. Jonathan pulled the car ahead onto a series of thick steel grating over what he imagined was a rather deep pit. “And … stop. Roll your window up please.”

  “What is going on?” asked Jonathan.

  “We are going to warsh your car,” the man said a little irate.

  Jonathan did as he was told and watched as another man in a yellow rain slicker ran up with a bucket of soapy water and what looked like a mop. He soaked the mop and began scrubbing the front of Jonathan’s car. After he worked his way around, he grabbed a hose and rinsed the soapy water away. Signaling for Jonathan to roll down his window the man said, “Go ahead and park in that spot on the left.”

  Jonathan smiled, “Thanks.” He pulled into an empty spot between two other cars and climbed out in a hurry.

  “What is your friend’s name?” a woman asked as she rushed over to meet him. She was a short, older woman with black hair and a pleasant smile.

  “Guillermo,” Jonathan replied.

  The woman looked him over. Jonathan knew she was checking for bites, and he could understand their concern. She lifted his eyelids and flashed a light in his eyes quickly. “He is going to be alright, but we need to keep an eye on him overnight.”

  “Thanks,” said Jonathan. He was unsure of how to feel about this woman. Was she really even a doctor?

  “I’m a nurse,” she said as if reading his mind. “I’ve been a nurse for about twenty years. I know that look too well. I know it is hard in times like these, but just trust me, ok? We’ll take care of him. I assume you want to see your brother.” She nodded toward a garage on the other side of the gravel driveway.

  Jonathan hesitated for a second. He didn’t want to leave Guillermo with strange people, but he had to find his brother. He stepped toward the gravel driveway and looked at the death bus parked on the grating as the rain-suited men ran around warshing it. He chuckled quietly as he thought about the way they talked around here.

  CREEPR 1 was quite impressive up close and in the light. Jonathan could see the hinges along the bottom of the steel grated fence that allowed them to swing down. The cables of a pulley system brought the deathtrap back into place. The men pulled out the blade on the front and wiped it down also. Pressure washers were used to blast the chunks out of the razor wire. A man walked around it with a mirror and a pistol to make sure no unwanted guests were clinging to the bottom.

  The inside of the wall was mostly boards. He assumed it was just the framework to hold up the slightly more armored side. Ladders and walkways ran along the inside, allowing guards to travel the length, which Jonathan noticed encircled the entire compound. He wondered how long it took to build the wall and perfect their security protocols.

  Following the driveway, Jonathan could see that it made a large circle through the compound. The property was much larger than he had thought, as well. He estimated that it was at least two city blocks worth of space. Long rows of buildings, several stories high had been constructed for people to live. He marveled at the similarities between this community and that of Moorford. Jonathan could hear cows and what he believed to be goats somewhere on the other side of the main house, and he watched a large brown rooster bob its way across the driveway.

  “Jonathan?” a voice from across the gravel shouted.

  “It is me, Michael,” Jonathan replied, he fought back the urge to run away. He wasn’t sure what to say, but he ran toward his brother. At first, Michael smiled at him with a well-rehearsed smile. Jonathan’s had always been natural, but Michael wanted his to be perfect. He had spent many hours staring into the bathroom mirror, practicing this smile and that, toothy smiles and not. Until he found the one that he believed would provide the most pleasant impression from anyone he smiled at. Perhaps it was knowing it was rehearsed, but Jonathan could always feel its falsehood, despite its genuineness.

  The two met just on the other side of the driveway from where the BMW was parked. They had been apart so long it felt as if they were running toward a mirror. Wrapping their arms around each other, the brothers laughed and felt whole once again. Then Jonathan heard Michael start to cry, and then he cried harder. Jonathan knew then that their mother didn’t make it. And when Jonathan cried, Michael knew their father hadn’t, either.

  Chapter 16

  “What the hell?” Deacon asked. He was confused by the emotions he felt as he looked between Roger and Sophia. The Ramcharger had no problems climbing over the fiends that were unfortunate enough to step in its path as they drove through town. Although Sophia looked a little irritated, she was still as beautiful to him as she always was. Leaning closer to the driver’s seat, the subtle green apple smell of her shampoo was carried to his nostrils by the cold air rushing from the vents in the dash.

  Deacon was brought back to memories of chasing her through stores, fiends on their asses. Anywhere they went she had to find that green apple shampoo, and she had no trouble putting Deacon in danger to find it. Sophia hadn’t really cared for it before the attacks. Her mother used it because her father liked the fragrance. Now it makes her feel as if her mother is always watching over her.

  Her black hair danced on her shoulders as it was blown around by that same cold air. The tanned skin on her face always looked pale behind those unbelievably black strands. Deacon reached out his dirty hand to touch her soft skin, but she reached up and brushed her hair aside as it tickled her neck. He knew she saw him reaching and meant to brush his hand away instead.

  “Is that a new hat?” Deacon asked, referring to her bowler hat. She had gone through a few since they met.

  “Same one I’ve had for months,” she snapped back.

  Roger was looking much better than the last time Deacon had seen him. Before he left, Roger’s skin hung in wrinkles from his arms. A large man before the attacks, Roger was forced to lose over half of his body weight rapidly as food became scarce. Now he was toned, not muscular, but in great shape for someone who probably would have had a heart attack months ago if all of this hadn’t happened.

  “Some people came while you were gone, Deacon. While you were off doing whatever the hell it was you were doing that was so important you had to leave us behind,” Sophia said in a raised voice, making no attempt to hide her frustration.

  “Are the twi –“

  “The twins are fine, Deacon,” Sophia snapped, her expression going from a little irritated to all out pissed off. “No thanks to you.”

  “I’m sorry, Sophia. I will explain everything to you,” Deacon said.

  “No need.” Sophia was now swerving to hit any fiends she could. Deacon and Mark each grabbed for the “Oh Shit” handles above their doors only to find there were none. Roger remained completely calm. Even though he felt better, he was prepared to die whenever it happened.

  “Who’s your friend?” Sophia asked harshly.

  “My name’s Mark Davis, ma’am.” Mark replied trying to hide his fear. “It’s nice to meet you. Deacon talks about you all the time.” Another fiend went down in front of the truck and became a rotting speed bump, causing Deacon and Mark to bounce out of their seats enough to hurt as the seatbelt dug into their waists.

  “Hmm,” was Sophia’s reply. She came to a hard stop in front of the Adina Hotel on the north end of Clay Hills.

  The four story building, despite being built in the 1980’s, appeared to be much older than what it really was. It was decorated with elegant Corinthian columns, and the pediment showed a man sitting in the center comfortably while those that surrounded him worked hard to keep him that way. Deacon had only been inside once, and he remembered being amazed by the faux gold trim, the marble flo
ors, and the tall vaulted ceilings with heavenly frescos.

  Roger climbed out and grabbed a wooden desk leg. Deacon recognized it as what Guillermo named Dead Breaker. The desk leg had leather wrapped around the handle and a short stainless steel spike that stuck from the thicker end. As Roger raised it, Deacon could see that he had added several more spikes to it, giving it the look of a medieval morning star. Roger held it like a baseball bat and swung at the first of the two fiends that were close enough to worry about.

  “Why don’t you get your ass out and help him, Deacon,” Sophia barked. Deacon did as he was told without realizing it. Mark climbed out of the truck in fear that he would be yelled at next if he didn’t. She watched as the three of them beat the two fiends until they stopped moving. Then Roger had them help push the barbed wire fence out of the way of the entrance to the parking lot under the hotel.

  The fence was made of wooded saw horses, wrapped in barbed wire, and covered in vines from some plants next to the driveway. It was heavy, but the three of them slid it easily. Sophia drove the Ramcharger through the opening and kept on going as the three men closed the entrance. The tires squealed on the smooth concrete of the parking lot with every turn she made. The lot was large, but it took the men a couple minutes to walk to the spot the Ramcharger was parked.

  “I just want to warn you both that she is mad,” Roger said.

  “You think?” Deacon asked sarcastically. “She is downright pissed. I guess she has the right to be.”

  “I want to apologize for this,” Roger turned to Mark.

  “Apologize for what?” Mark asked. Every muscle in his body tensed up. His jaw clenched tightly and he fell to the ground. The two prongs of the taser stuck in his back.