by Locke, Linus
Warm air rushed over him, which startled him at first. His body was pretty numb, but he knew being burned alive would still hurt like hell. Only he wasn’t being burned. He could make out the sounds of his shoes squeaking on the polished floor of the college as the men dragged him along. He hadn’t feared much in his life. He certainly didn’t fear death, but he should have been dead by now. This made him begin to worry about what these people had in store for him.
The running water sound in his ear stopped a few hours later. The swelling of his face receded enough for Bill to open his eyes about a week later. In that time he had heard from the men that came to feed him that Randy had died moments after being shot.
They were keeping him in a closet in one of the science labs in the college. It was large enough to make a comfortable cell. The doors would be too thick for him to break through, but he knew he lacked the strength to even try. He was somewhat warm, fed, and kept clean. He would wait this out until spring, when he would be sent downriver and dropped off along the bank somewhere to be forgotten about.
His first plan was to come back and burn this sonofabitchin’ town to the ground. Then he would hunt down Michael and his bastard brother and skin them both alive. He just had to wait it out. Patience wasn’t always a strong suit for Bill, but he had no other choice at the moment. He didn’t like to be wronged, and there were still a couple of people out there who haven’t found out what happens to people who wrong him.
Chapter 25
After breakfast, Jonathan and Guillermo grabbed light jackets and stepped out into the world. The sun shone brightly through the windows of the mill making the day look beautiful and warm, and it caught them both off guard as the freezing cold air bit at their exposed skin and worked easily through the thin coats.
“This isn’t happening!” Guillermo exclaimed before running back inside with Jonathan close behind.
The two stepped back out moments later, bundled up in two coats each, two of which they weren’t sure of the owner. Their faces were covered with ski masks, and their hoods were up, closed up tightly at the neck with scarves.
Jonathan turned to Guillermo and said, “It is about time to go back to California.”
“I couldn’t agree more, my friend.”
“What the hell are you two supposed to be?” Mad Man Rob laughed as he walked up to them. He was bundled up as well, but not so much that it restricted his movement.
“It is pretty cold out here,” Jonathan stated, sounding a bit muffled under the ski mask and scarf.
“Yeah, the thermometer says it’s close to zero. That means the deadies will be slowed way down. We can get shit done today,” Mad Man said merrily before heading back out toward his semi. The semi must have recently been running, as Dog lay on the ground under the warmth of the engine.
Jonathan and Guillermo looked around the large yard spread out in front of them. Men sat bundled in trees on top of stands used for deer hunting, rifles ready, scanning for danger. Around the back of the mill there was a creek, frozen, and a bridge across it. Two more enclosed hunting stands stood roughly fifteen feet high on both sides of the bridge, each facing outward.
Aaron worked on his Camaro, not really doing anything to it, just staring at the engine. He checked the oil for the third time today, checked the brake fluid for the second. Jonathan had overheard that Aaron had taken the loss of one of his friends pretty hard and thought briefly of seeing if he wanted to talk about it, but the sight of Michael drew his attention away.
“Michael, can we talk?” Jonathan asked as he walked toward his twin.
“Of course, we really haven’t had much time,” Michael responded.
“Yeah, unfortunately we have both been busy,” Jonathan said with the hint of a smile.
“Let me guess, you want to go back to studying these things. We can set you up a lab, but it may take time.”
“That is close, but not exactly what I had in mind.” Jonathan paused for a moment to work out the chill in his bones. “How are you not freezing?” he asked but didn’t wait for an answer. “I think I need to go back home. I would like you to come with me, of course.”
“You know I’d love to go back to California with you. Just give me a few days to make sure that everything is cleared up here and we can set off.” Michael tried to contain his feelings, but his face slowly lit up as the thought of seeing his home again grew in his mind.
Before either twin could say anything else, a flash of light ripped through the yard. The light came from on top of the old schoolhouse where a mirror had been mounted. The mirror reflected the sun’s light, controlled by a man in yet another makeshift guard tower.
Jonathan’s heart began to pound as he took this signal as a sign of an approaching threat. He turned to Guillermo who was trying to remove a pistol from one of his coat pockets.
Michael noticed their panic and said, “Whoa, settle down fellas. It’s just the Hunters.”
“The Hunters?” Jonathan asked, his heart still racing.
“Yeah, that’s what we started calling them. They are a couple of guys who go around and hunt the deadies. The name can’t get any more obvious, really.”
Jonathan was intrigued by the idea of people hunting the fiends. Sure he’s trapped some, but to make what would be a career out of it seemed like a tough life. “Why do they do it?” he finally asked.
“People didn’t like the idea of their loved ones roaming about like that, so these two guys were smart enough to see it as an opportunity. Not only do they hunt them, but they will also bury them, and then they bring back something to prove they did it, of course.”
“That sounds like kind of an awful job,” Jonathan commented, but at the same time he found it to be quite honorable.
“I think that is why they do it. Most people don’t want to face someone they love after they’ve turned. Plus, most people don’t have the balls to stand out in the open and dig a hole; they leave them lay where they put them down. There was also a growing concern that the bodies would start spreading diseases, so these two guys decided to dispose of them.
“Not only do they hunt and bury, but they will also take the random deadies that no one claims and load them up on a barge. Then they haul that barge down the river and out into the ocean where they set it on fire. It’s actually because of them that we know there are other settlements along the river. They are the reason we started trading with groups from Minnesota to Louisiana.”
“So what do they get out of it?” Guillermo asked.
“I know we give them fresh vegetables during the summer months when we can grow them. I assume other settlements give them their weapons and ammo.”
If Michael had said anything else, Jonathan didn’t hear it. He watched in the direction that they signaled the Hunters would come from. He pictured what these guys looked like. They were certainly young men, muscular, and tall. More important to Jonathan than their looks was their knowledge.
These are men who have been living amongst the dead. They have traveled up and down the river, disposing of dead bodies. Surely they knew more than they realized. Jonathan just hoped he would have the time to break them away from the group and talk to them.
The sound of voices broke the silence that had fallen over the camp. Mad Man Rob was the first to meet the Hunters as they strolled into the clearing. They laughed and shook hands. One of the Hunters was much taller than Mad Man, the other roughly the same height, but they were too bundled up to see much else.
“They seem friendly,” Jonathan commented.
“They are, but Mad Man knew them before this happened. He says they met up some time after the world fell apart. After that they went their separate ways. The Hunters wanted to do what they do, Mad Man wanted to do what he does.” Michael laughed a short, muffled laugh. “Which is kind of weird since Mad Man loves nothing more than busting the deadie’s skulls open.”
As the Hunters moved into the group, Jonathan felt the urge to go up to them and bomba
rd them with questions, but before he could one of the men removed his mask. He was in his late forties; graying hair surrounded the bald spot. He stood about a half a foot taller than the other man. Jonathan guessed a few inches over six feet tall.
“I bring news from the other end of town,” the man said in a deep voice. He referred to the group run by Randy. “Randy is dead, and Bill has been thrown in a sort of prison until he can be shipped away.”
Over the next few minutes he told the gathered crowd all about what he had been told of what happened between the two men. While he spoke, the occasional fiend wandered out of the woods, only to be put down quickly after.
“So does this mean that there won’t be any more feuding with them?” a man in the crowd asked.
“That’s the way it sounds,” the shorter of the two Hunters said. He was about ten years older than his much taller companion. “They wanted to apologize for what had happened. They were misled, and they have offered to open up their gates to anyone that needs shelter.”
Excited conversations broke out in the crowd. The chattered continued even after the Hunters began their walk toward the grist mill.
“Rod, Gene-O!” Michael called as the two men walked toward them.
“Hey, bud. How the hell are you?” the older man said as he shook Michael’s hand.
“I’m great, thanks. This is my twin brother Jonathan.” Michael pointed toward his twin. “And Guillermo.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jonathan said as he shook the hands of the two men. His words came out kind of stiff as his jaw was about frozen. He had rolled his ski mask up with the idea that the two Hunters would be more comfortable talking to someone they could see.
“I thought you were shitting us when you said you had a twin brother,” the taller man said with a laugh. “I’m Rod, and this is my older brother, Gene.”
“I would like to ask you guys some questions after you have a chance to warm up and eat. If it is alright, of course,” Jonathan said.
“Sure. Come find us in an hour or so,” Gene-O said in his slightly gruff voice. He patted Michael on the shoulder as he walked past and into the mill.
May stood at the entrance and gave each man a hug before they stepped inside.
“So this is pretty exciting news, huh?” Guillermo said. “Everyone can have a safe home again. I really hope what happened wasn’t because of us.”
“Not at all, Guillermo. That has been building up for a long time,” Michael reassured him. “Besides, it probably wouldn’t have been long before Mad Man Rob started a huge war, anyway.”
“Shut up,” Mad Man said. “You were the one starting shit.”
Jonathan felt like chiming in, but before he could the roar of a plane cut him off.
Everyone looked up in unison, and they all searched the skies for the source. The trees were too thick for anyone to make out where the plane was. Then it swept right overhead. The fine mist was almost invisible as it drifted downward, blanketing the crowd.
At first nobody knew what to make of this, then a scream broke out from somewhere in the middle of the crowd.
“My eyes! It burns my eyes!”
Within seconds, panic and chaos enveloped the entire camp. Screams erupted from everyone as the searing pain took over. People were trampled as anyone not immediately affected tried to make their way toward shelter.
Jonathan was startled by Guillermo’s scream. He took his friend by the arm and led him down toward the frozen creek. He wanted to take him inside, but the crowd was too thick in front of the mill. He helped Guillermo to the ground next to a tree and began beating on the ice with a rock the size of a softball. After a few hard hits, he broke enough ice away to reach his hand down into the water below.
“Here, Guillermo. We need to flush your eyes out,” Jonathan said.
Guillermo crawled forward a few feet, tears streaking down his face. He winced as Jonathan began pouring handfuls of ice cold water into his eyes.
“You need to keep your eyes open,” Jonathan said softly.
“I’m trying, my friend.”
After a few more attempts, Jonathan was able to rinse the chemicals from Guillermo’s eyes. They were still red, and the pain wouldn’t subside for some time, but he felt confident that he had saved his friend’s eyesight.
“We have to find Michael.”
“Just leave me here for now. I’ll just be in the way. When my eyes clear up I’ll come looking for you.”
“Ok, but I am not sure what to expect from this, so stay safe.” Jonathan waited by his friend for a minute before standing up and jogging off toward the mill.
Most of the open area surrounding the mill and old school house had been cleared out. Several bodies lay trampled in the yard. Blood streaked some of the remaining patches of snow. Jonathan could see several people huddled in cars, trying to wipe away the pain from their eyes before driving the hell out of there. He hoped that Michael was alright wherever he was.
“Michael!” he yelled. “Michael! Mad Man!”
He wanted to run up to the mill and check there first, but the tail end of the mob was still pushing their way in. He had the morbid thought that at least one of the people standing there had been crushed to death and was being held up by the packed crowd.
Before he could finish feeling sorry for those poor people trying to find safety he was grabbed on the shoulder by one hand. Another hand wrapped around his head. His attacker pulled him backwards. Jonathan lost his footing and fell to the hard ground.
Looking up into the face of a young man, Jonathan recognized him as someone he’d seen alive only minutes before the attack. Blood trickled from his mouth. The fiend grabbed Jonathan’s leg before he could kick away and began pulling the teen toward him.
Jonathan tried to pull free, but the fiend had reached his other hand out and gripped ahold of the heavy coat. With that, the fiend fell on top of him. Jonathan tried to scream, but the weight of the fiend lying on his chest made it hard to do. The fiend tore at his coat, and Jonathan felt lucky that he was wearing two, but he knew they wouldn’t stop the dead man for long.
Before Jonathan could give up hope, the fiends head burst with a loud crack. The crack came from a rifle about forty yards away, and as Jonathan wriggled free of the body, he could see that the rifle was held by Rod.
“Were you bit?” the man asked, still aiming his rifle toward Jonathan.
“N-No. I am fine,” Jonathan said between deep gasps for air.
Rod slung the rifle over his back and walked toward the young man. He reached down and lifted him off the ground like he was a small child.
“Thank you,” Jonathan said.
Rod walked over to the other dead bodies. They were already crawling to their feet. Moving from one fiend to the next, Rod fired a round from a .45 caliber Smith and Wesson handgun into each of their heads. Pieces of their skulls, tufts of hair, and brain matter flew for yards in every direction, as the pistol was much too powerful for the task. Jonathan quickly felt like this was a man who liked to do as much damage as possible, regardless of the mess.
Michael fought through the crowds inside the mill. Despite being inside, many people continued to push and shove, desperately trying to move further in. The large mill provided plenty of room, but most of the people couldn’t see. Their eyes burned, along with any exposed skin. He wasn’t sure how he managed to miss the toxic mist, but he was glad he did. Now Michael tried to help those that couldn’t see by guiding them up the stairs and around the antique mill equipment.
The screams inside the mill where deafening, and Michael felt awful that so many of the people he knew where in so much pain. He continued to help people find their way out of the main room when a new round of screams broke out. This set off panic like he hadn’t seen since the days of the first attacks.
Quickly, he searched for the source of the panic and noticed that Gene-O was also trying to keep everyone calm. Both Michael and Gene-O saw what was happening at the same time. A w
oman that had been lying on the floor had turned after being trampled to death by the terrified mob. Now she was chewing through the calf of an older man. The group tried to disperse, but he had a tight grip on the man in front of him, who in his own frightened state held tight to the woman next to him, hoping to be pulled free of the old man.
This quickly formed a chain of people who all were hoping that someone in front of them would be able to pull them free of the person behind them. Everyone was held in place. Fights broke out. Blood spattered to the wooden floor as fists collided with faces, breaking cartilage and fracturing skulls. Children who had clung to the adults for protection were now being kicked to the ground and stepped on.
Soon, another fiend arose from the back of the chaos, a young boy who had been crushed between the adults trying to squeeze in. He leapt for the neck of a woman in front of him, biting deep into the soft flesh. Blood sprayed over the little boy’s face and dripped out of his ragged hair. Long strips of her skin clung to his face.
This second fiend caused yet another wave of panic, one Michael new he couldn’t contain. He fought his way toward the steps that led down into the basement. There was a door to the outside there, and he would take his chances out in the open. He reached the doorway, but before he could begin his descent he was shoved from behind. His arms flailed as he tried to grab anything to slow his fall.
He hit the concrete floor head first. His vision blurred and the pain caused his body to bend in ways he wouldn’t have thought possible. There was nothing he could do but lay there and listen to the screams from upstairs. The screams were muffled, and a persistent thumping drilled into his ears.
“I gotcha,” a voice said from what seemed like miles away.
Michael couldn’t respond, but he felt someone grab him under his armpits and lift him to his feet. The smell of cigarette smoke and blood filled his nostrils. The blood he knew was his. The smoke must have been Gene-O.
The light outside was bright, and the bitter chill of the Midwest winter snapped at Michael’s skin. He tried to focus, but his head was still disoriented from the fall. After fighting off motion sickness, he thought it best to close his eyes and keep them closed.
