by Kirk Withrow
“I’ll be glad when we’re out of the woods. I can’t see shit in here,” Garza said.
Kate started to tell him that they weren’t likely to be truly out of the woods for quite some time—if ever at all—but she decided to keep her mouth closed. Fortunately there were only a few revs in the forest, and they had just as much difficulty navigating the dense foliage. None of them even got close enough to pose a real threat. The trees finally began to thin after Kate and Garza had walked for almost twenty minutes, and the sunlight glistening off the water meant that the lake was just ahead.
A sharp crack, like that of a twig snapping underfoot, sounded in the forest to their left. Garza turned to investigate but saw nothing alarming. As he did, Kate moved ahead of him and emerged from the break in the trees.
“Oh my God!” she said.
Garza moved next to her along the bank, and immediately saw the reason for her reaction. The small lake Connor had mentioned was a cesspool of death unlike anything either of them had ever imagined. Like something out of Dante’s Inferno, the water was teeming with bodies. Some were truly dead, floating motionlessly like driftwood cadavers, while the infected bobbed like alligators searching for their next meal. Occasionally, one of them would flail an appendage, causing a splash akin to a fish leaping out of the water.
What had lured so many revs to the lake remained a mystery, and he wondered if it had been done intentionally. Given everything he’d seen, it wouldn’t have surprised him in the least. Regardless, it was the first time he’d thought much about the infected’s ability to survive in water, and he doubted he would ever be able to go swimming again.
SNAP!
The sound of the tree branch breaking was much closer than the last, and Garza spun around in alarm. He reached for his war cleaver, but the blade caught on his vest as he tried to draw it. Although the snag held him back for only a second, it was long enough. The infected thing was on top of him in an instant. Its skeletal fingers clawed at his shirt as he backpedalled away from the monster. Knocked off-balance by the rev, he staggered to the side to keep from being forced into the watery tomb that was the lake.
In his peripheral vision, Garza saw a blur of movement followed by the flash of metal. Suddenly, he was jerked forward as the infected thing dropped to the ground, still gripping his shirt. He pulled back, yanking his shirt free from the dead kid still dressed in the tattered remains of a baseball uniform. Standing where Garza had seen the rev a moment before was Kate, her gore-tainted knife poised to strike again. The fear in her eyes was plain to see.
“You okay? Did it bite you?”
Garza took a steadying breath before answering. “I’m fine, thanks to you, Dr. San. Let’s keep moving. There should be a mansion ahead. Look alive—I think that’s where he’s going to meet us.”
Kate nodded as they walked away, never looking back at the godforsaken. When they came upon a deadfall in the woods, she crouched behind it and pretended to tie one of her boot’s laces. Garza recognized what she was doing and scrutinized the area, looking for any indication that they were being watched. Kate sent Mother one last message in the hope that he and the others would be ready when the time came. They walked for nearly twenty minutes before reaching another break in the forest, and while it held no rev-infested lake, what they found wasn’t much better.
About thirty yards ahead sat an enormous Tudor style mansion built in an L shape. Garza scanned the windows but saw no sign of Connor or his men. Except for a few revs shuffling about, the circular drive in front of the once opulent residence was empty. What had undoubtedly been the home to a member of Atlanta’s elite before the pandemic was now just another abandoned building in a world dominated by such things. Despite the home’s impressive size, it was what was outside that had Garza and Kate’s attention.
The once beautifully landscaped lawn of the sprawling estate was now home to over three dozen infected monsters. They seemed to stagger about aimlessly, leaving the grass worn thin from the heavy traffic where they were most concentrated. As he had with the lake, Garza couldn’t help but wonder what had drawn all of them there, and more importantly, why they didn’t wander off. Maybe Connor is inside with Ava? But if that’s the case, then why aren’t they pressed up against the building? It doesn’t make sense. He was about to ask Kate if she had any thoughts on the matter when he heard the rattle of a chain followed by a frustrated snarl.
Garza watched as one of the rev’s necks was jerked back by a chain that he hadn’t seen upon first glance. The thing seemed oblivious to the restraint and merely reacted by staggering backward. Several of the infected nearby were drawn toward the commotion like insects to light, bumping into one another before rebounding off in another direction. A few moments later, the same thing happened again on the far side of the yard.
“So that’s what’s keeping them here,” Garza said softly. The infected hadn’t noticed them crouching along the edge of the clearing, and he hoped to keep it that way while he did a little reconnaissance on the massive home. If this was where the showdown was going to take place, then he wanted to gather as much information as possible before the bullets started flying.
Kate shot him a strange look and whispered, “What are you talking about?”
Before he could answer, a shrill chirp erupted from the walkie-talkie clipped to his belt. The high-pitched sound was unbelievably loud given the lack of any competing noise, and Garza watched as more than three dozen heads immediately turned in their direction.
“Oh shit!”
The radio chirped again, as if to make absolutely sure that every infected thing in a 100-yard radius knew their location. Garza pulled it off his belt and frantically worked to silence it, but the damage had already been done. The revs knew they were there, and they moved in their direction. While chains stopped a few dead in their tracks, those that were unrestrained advanced on them. He read the words New Text Message flashing on the screen. A moment later, it displayed:
These things can text! Pretty cool, huh? Continue north for a quarter mile. You will come to an old four-story building. See you soon, Connor.
Garza balled his fists in anger and said, “That stupid son of a bitch is going to get us killed with his silly games. He isn’t here. He sent a message that said he will meet us at an old building a quarter mile north of this location.”
Kate pulled her knife from its sheath and said, “The natives look restless. We better get moving.”
Garza shook his head as he glanced at his watch. Speaking quickly, he laid out a plan to get them to their destination. “We need to head north, which is straight through them. Let’s try to work around the bulk of them and only engage when it’s unavoidable. We’ll go around the right side of the house before turning north. Hopefully, we’ll lose most of them that way. We’ll be out in the open, but if we move up the driveway, we’ll be able to move faster.” With a determined look on his face, he added, “We’re close now; I don’t want to take any chances. We need to be as fresh as possible when we finally meet this asshole.”
With his war cleaver in hand, Garza crouched and moved onto the driveway. It felt strange rushing to meet the infected mob head-on, but there wasn’t enough time to backtrack and go around. The hike, the deadline, the infected—it was all meant to take a physical and psychological toll on them, and he knew it was all part of Connor’s plan.
The bulk of the small horde was to their left, and only a few had made it to the driveway by the time they passed. Garza hit the first rev he encountered with a hard backhand blow that nearly cleaved its head completely off as he slipped past. The next rev in line met a similar fate when it stepped into Kate’s path. She plunged her narrow blade through its ear and into its diseased brain. The tip of the knife must have punctured its carotid artery, because dark fluid spurted out around the glistening steel with surprising force.
Kate tried to wrench her knife free as the rev collapsed to the ground, but it was torn from her hand as the thing fell
away from her. Dropping to her knees, she grasped the handle with both hands and redoubled her efforts. Given that the knife was her only means of defense, she had to get it back. She was so focused on retrieving the weapon that she didn’t notice the ghoul behind her until its icy fingers tightened around her neck. Though it had not been intentional, the rev’s hands were perfectly placed to compress both of her carotid arteries. Panic flooded her mind, and she tried to scream for help. With her throat compressed as it was, she managed little more than a gurgling whimper.
Instinctively, Kate pulled forward in an effort to get away from the thing choking the life out of her. When she did, the rev followed her movement, but it did not let go. Her world started to go black, and she knew it was all about to be over. She tried to pry the fingers off her neck, but the rev had a death grip that she couldn’t break. The monster pulled itself closer as Kate felt the fight slowly leaving her body.
When it finally brought its rotten head close to Kate’s face, she was assailed by its putrescent odor. Foul beyond imagination, the smell triggered a warning bell deep in the primitive, reptilian part of her oxygen-starved brain. Her weak legs buckled as she pulled away. The rev’s weight shifted toward her head as it leaned in, about to tear a chunk of flesh from her cheek. Because it held its grip, Kate’s sudden collapse caused it to flip forward. The torque on its wrists broke the stranglehold as its back slammed into the ground. She coughed as blood and oxygen began flowing to her brain once again.
WHOOSH! CRACK!
Kate watched in confusion as a massive hunk of steel smashed the rev’s snarling face. When she looked up, Garza’s outstretched hand was there.
“You okay?” he asked.
Still coughing, she gave him a weak nod and scooped up her knife.
“Good, because we need to move. Now.”
Garza launched a powerful front kick that sent the next closest rev sprawling backward. It crashed into those following closely behind, and they fell into a tangled heap with arms and legs akimbo. It looked like a game of Twister for the damned as the ghouls struggled to disentangle themselves. By the time the revs made it back to their feet, Garza and Kate had disappeared into the trees north of the mansion.
31
“I don’t see anything. I think we lost them,” Kate said as she glanced over her shoulder.
Taking advantage of the revs’ poor coordination, Garza and Kate raced around the house and slipped between the trees before many of the revs were able to get back to their feet. Now the forest folded around them like an impenetrable green blanket that could just as easily numb the mind with its monotony as create the illusion that death was lurking behind every branch. Garza’s mind was pushed to its limit, and he felt his anxiety climbing with every step.
Although he’d failed to kill Connor during their first exchange, Garza had definitely gotten the better of him, and he was confident that he could take the man in a fair fight. But this was not going to be a fair fight. Even so, letting Connor live was not a mistake he planned on repeating this time. He would be outgunned and outmanned; nearly every advantage would be with Connor during this confrontation. Garza’s only hope was that his fellow survivors from the CDC might shift the element of surprise in their favor, or at the very least, even the numbers out somewhat. Unfortunately, that thought did little to quell the concern he had for their lives. There were simply too many variables to try to wrap his head around. The closer he got, the more he thought about everything that could go wrong…and he thought about a lot of things.
“I think I see the building up ahead,” Kate said breathlessly.
Garza had seen the building as well, but he’d been so filled with dread that he found it difficult to formulate words. He put his arm out to signal Kate to stop. They needed to catch their breath, and he needed to clear his mind. He did not feel the least bit ready to enter a combat situation, which he knew had been the Puppet Master’s plan all along.
“We have about ten minutes until the deadline. Let’s rest and regroup here for a few minutes,” Garza said.
Kate didn’t argue with him; she still felt rather foggy from nearly being choked out by the ghoul in front of the mansion.
“Sounds good. So, what do you think?” she asked as she stared at the top of the building peeking out above the trees a few hundred yards ahead.
Kate’s question was such an open-ended one that Garza wasn’t exactly sure how to answer. When he kept coming up with pessimistic responses, he abandoned the search for her intended meaning and instead offered her an equally vague reply.
“I think we’ll be okay. Let’s just play it cool and try to buy enough time for the others to get into position. The longer we can keep him talking out in the open, the better.” Seeing the worry on her face, he added, “Don’t worry, they’ll be there. Mother won’t let us down.”
I sure hope I’m right about that…
Garza was about to tell Kate to check her weapons, but he caught himself. As badass as his war cleaver was, he felt naked and vulnerable heading into this fight without a firearm between them. He knew there was nothing for it. Their time was running out. He affected the most reassuring smile he could muster and asked, “You ready?”
Without batting an eye, Kate said, “Let’s get this bastard and get Ava.”
Garza was bolstered by her poise and confidence. If she was worried about their impending confrontation, he couldn’t tell. They stood and made their way toward the building looming to the north.
Five minutes later, the building’s ground floor came into view. It appeared to have been used for some type of manufacturing, though it didn’t appear to have been in use for many years. Most of the windows on the first two floors had been shattered; those that remained intact were dirty to the point of being nearly opaque. Its concrete walls were adorned by all manner of graffiti. A dozen fifty-five gallon drums were stacked along the wall next to a loading dock. Two additional clusters of the cylindrical containers poked out of the tall weeds growing in front of the building, providing easy concealment for anyone who might be lying in wait. While there were no vehicles in sight, several ruts in the ground indicated that the area had seen some traffic recently.
Garza eyed his surroundings warily but saw no movement. Once again, the only sound was that of leaves rustling in the wind. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting to find when he arrived. Perhaps a bunch of Mad Max-style post-apocalyptic vehicles circled up around a small army of filthy men clad in leather and metal spikes would’ve been a little overkill, but he would’ve liked some sign that he’d found the right building. He was considering calling Connor, when he saw the vague outline of a person in one of the second story windows. It had been little more than a fleeting glimpse, but he was sure he’d seen someone. Infected or not, he couldn’t say.
Out of the corner of his mouth, he said, “Look alive, Dr. San. We’ve got movement on the second floor.”
Garza would’ve liked to inform Mother of what he’d seen, but doing so would be far too risky despite Kate’s obvious skill with subterfuge. He had no doubt that things would go tits up in a hurry if the radio was discovered. Remembering what happened outside the mansion, Garza thought it would be a good idea to turn the radio off and ditch it in the grass.
“What do we do? This place looks deserted,” Kate replied.
Even though Garza couldn’t see Connor or his men, he knew they were there; he could feel it. Connor had set the location of the exchange so he and his men had ample time to dig in. Garza had the unsettling feeling that more than a few gun barrels were trained on him at that very moment.
“Maybe I should call him,” Garza said as he stepped out into the open.
Before Kate could respond, a booming voice broke the silence. “That won’t be necessary, Sergeant.”
The voice had echoed so loudly that Garza halfway expected a giant to emerge from the building. Instead, the man who stepped into view stood roughly six feet tall and had the muscular build of a gu
y who spent a lot of time in the gym. He carried himself like a military man and walked with an air of confidence. Were it not for his cold, calculating eyes, he would’ve almost looked amicable. Try as he might, Garza did not recognize his face.
When Garza had fought with Connor outside the abandoned gas station, it had been dark and he’d been focused on the fight. As such, he couldn’t recall many details when Mother and L.T. had pressed for a description of the so-called Puppet Master. Sure, Garza’s mind had filled in the blanks to provide him with a picture of his adversary, but seeing him in the daylight made it clear that reality and his recollection were two completely different entities. Even though the man walking toward them looked nothing like the fiend that had been spawned by his mind’s eye, there was no mistaking the voice: it was Connor Roan. He stopped about ten feet away from them.
“I was beginning to worry you two weren’t going to make it on time. You didn’t actually think I was going cut the little girl’s fingers off, did you? I’m not a monster.” He directed his wicked sneer in Kate’s direction before adding, “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure, Dr. San. My name is Connor Roan, but my men call me the Puppet Master.”
Neither Garza nor Kate spoke. They merely stared at the man they believed to be responsible for many of the atrocities they’d encountered over the last six months. Though neither of them said it, both Garza and Kate were taken aback by how normal true evil could actually look.
“Well, I see you two aren’t much for small talk, so let’s get right to it, shall we? I’ve been waiting a long time to get to know you a little better, Garza.” Connor said as he rubbed his throbbing shoulder and glared at him.
In that moment, Garza reciprocated all of the anger and hate he saw in Connor’s eyes. In fact, the hatred he felt for the man standing in front of him raged so strongly that he thought it might burn a hole right through his chest. Even though Connor had been responsible for an untold number of things for which he was deserving of such hate, Garza could not clear the image of Corporal Rocha’s face right before he’d been forced to shoot him in order to protect Lin. While Garza still wasn’t sure how Connor had accomplished it, he knew that Connor had been the one to turn Rocha into the infected monster. Unleashing a rev horde on the CDC compound and kidnapping Ava Wild were just icing on the cake.
