"So what are we going to do to get my friends Sheriff?" JT asked.
"I wasn't going to let them kill you in cold blood," Randall said, shifting in his chair. "Still, all that doesn't mean I’m going to go up to the church with guns blazing. I have said it before. I won't hurt any of my people. I’ll be here boys, keeping the home fires burning."
"Seems a strange stance to me Sheriff," JT said, frustration coming back. "Doesn’t it still make you an accomplice if someone from town were to die up there?"
"It may be splitting hairs, but that's how it's going to be. If I ever to happen to run into Charlie though, I’ll make an exception.” The sheriff crossed his arms over his chest.
"Looks like he’s made up his mind," Tyrone said, disgusted. “It’s just the two of us. You and I.” He tried to make a joke of it at the end. JT gave him a weak smile.
"Then you and me better come up with a damn good plan," JT said. At least they had a fighting chance now. They were free and Randall here had a good stock of weapons. The Sheriff could cling to his strange morality if he wanted to, as long as he gave JT a gun.
"I can trace you out a decent layout of the church and the grounds," Randall spoke up. "Maybe that way you can avoid bloodshed all together. To bad I don't know the layout of the tunnels under the college. Hell, it wouldn't be safe anyway. If I were Albright, I would have them booby trapped."
“They have tunnels connecting the church to the college?” JT was shocked. “Why didn’t you mention them before?”
Randall shrugged. “Never thought I needed to. I’ve now turned traitor don’t you forget.” Randall exhaled deeply before he continued. “Yeah, there are tunnels there, to make travel more comfortable between the buildings during the winter months.”
"We need Dusty here, to make a tactical battle plan," Tyrone remarked.
"Well, that's not going to happen," JT replied, a little more harshly than he liked. "It's just me and you kid. Hannah and Gus are counting on us to get them out of there."
"You know what we need then? Some kind of diversion. Like they go out the front we go in the back, through these tunnels. Know what I mean?"
"Okay. Not a bad start, but I don't know. We don’t want to get killed. Then what would happen to Hannah and Gus? Maybe we should slow down take some time to think this through." Two against a building full of people wasn't going to be easy but they had to. Not only to get Hannah and Gus, but the Reverend was going to get his due. These tunnels sounded intriguing but Randall was might be right. JT was about to voice his concern over using the tunnels, when Tyrone left the room without warning. JT wondered what why he was sulking off again.
"Where is your friend going?" Randall asked.
"Don't know. Maybe he needed to go stretch his legs. We’ve been locked up for awhile." JT tried to keep the snark out of his voice. He wanted as much help as Randall would provide.
While he waited for Tyrone to come back, JT searched and found some paper and a pen. He and Randall were going over the crude map Randall drew when Tyrone came back in. JT wasn't sure how much time had passed, he had gotten so involved. It must have been awhile as his eyes burned for deep concentration.
Tyrone stepped up to JT, then backed up a few steps and stood by the doorway to the kitchen. "I had to go out. Think about what you said. I have something I have to ask JT. Do we need to save Hannah and Gus? Do we need to attack the church at all?"
"What the fuck do you mean do they need saving?" JT looked at Tyrone like he had lost his mind. "Just a while ago, you were as gung ho as me about saving them and getting some payback. This is Hannah we are talking about. Gus who saved your life. More than once."
"I mean, maybe Hannah would like it there better. She never came to see us. We never heard from her. Maybe she likes that religious crap. Didn't you tell me you stopped there in the first place so she could pray? Gus, I heard they fixed him right up. They could be safe there, and we can go our own way. Maybe I don’t need to risk my life saving people who don’t want saving."
JT wasn't even aware he was advancing on Tyrone until he noticed Tyrone shrink away from him back in the kitchen. He froze, took a deep breath, and blew it out.
"I can't believe you even think that, after what Albright did to you." JT shook his head in disbelief. "What about all we’ve done to save you and keep you safe?" JT stabbed a finger hard in Tyrone's direction.
"I'm not the first person to have violence committed on them in the name of religion. It also isn't the first time a white person beat on a black one. So I’m willing to let it slide. After having a breather to calm down, I just want to go home, see if my momma is alright. I’d lie to not get full of bullets. You know what I mean?"
"Tyrone," JT tried taking a softer approach. "I know I, we, promised you that. What can I say? I'm doing the best I can. I can understand if you are frightened. That's why I need your help. We have to plan this well. After we get them out, we can talk."
"I've heard that before," Tyrone said, practically shouting. "You should ask Ashley and Dusty and they'd tell you, you’re best, it isn't good enough. They're dead because of you."
Without another word, Tyrone fled out the door.
"Tyrone," JT said, in a hissed whisper.
Tyrone kind of just wanted to ignore him. He wished JT had stayed behind at the house and not even followed him to begin with. His eye still throbbed and his gut still ached when he took deep breaths. He knew it wasn't fair to blame JT for those things. Still, enough was enough. Now that he had cooled down, he was over wanting revenge on Albright. He wanted to get as far away from him and his cult. JT would either save Hannah or get himself killed trying. The latter seemed more likely. He was going to go back to Evansville, to look for his family. His real family. He could do it on his own now. He was fast and he could fight. JT had at least shown him how to do that. JT still called after him, a little louder each time.
"What?" he called back in annoyance, not even trying to be quiet since JT ruined his attempts to be stealthy.
Dusk was falling. His long shadow telegraphed the direction he was going. He crossed the street and walked into an open field. The grass and flowers had grown over knee high. Tyrone squinted and saw half a dozen boxcars, some tank cars and a run down, broken caboose sitting on a train track. He headed towards them, quickening his pace. Maybe JT would give up and turn around. Hannah and Gus were more important to JT than he was anyway, why was he still following?
"Tyrone, come back here," JT yelled.
"Hey, I think I heard something over here," an unknown voice called out in the falling night. Three flashlight beams bounced up and down towards his direction.
Tyrone shot across the field and behind one of the boxcars like a bullet from a gun. He ducked beside it, feeling its warped wood dig into his shoulder. He looked around, trying to see if anyone was following him. Maybe he lost both JT and whoever the others were.
"Let's look over by the tracks," another voice said.
Tyrone's next thought was to slide open the boxcar and hide in there. Tyrone climbed up, grabbed the handle, and pulled back with all his strength. He immediately regretted the decision. Zombies poured out like a human wave, some flipping end over end. Most were still full bodies, coming to life as they fell. Others came out in pieces.
Tyrone back pedaled, feeling his heart in his throat. One of the zombies hooked his ankle, spilling him to the ground. Quiet death was coming for him. Too late he noticed the rotting hamburger smell mixed with something much worse. He felt hands around and under his arms. He was yanked back away from the undead.
"Tyrone, you fucking idiot. What are you doing?" JT said, exasperated.
"Right now, trying not to get eaten. You know what I mean," Tyrone said, scrambling to his feet.
"Over here, over here," the other voice yelled. Light seeped between the boxcars and under the wheels. It got brighter and brighter.
"Damn it Tyrone," JT said, gritting his teeth. "We can’t get caught again by these churc
h pricks. Here."
He handed Tyrone a hatchet. It felt good to have its solid handle in his hands. JT had a pistol in his other hand. “I’ve learned not to go around this town empty handed.” JT said with a crooked smile.
The growing light showed what had to be at least twenty zombies had tumbled from the boxcar. "Who the hell stuffs zombies in a boxcar? Seriously?" Tyrone couldn’t believe what just happened.
"I don't know, but we need to get back to the Sheriff's hideaway." JT moved in that direction.
"I'm not going back. It's time I was on my own," Tyrone chopped the grabbing zombies hand off, then its rotted head. "You need to listen to me."
"It's isn't the time or place for a debate," JT replied, getting a headshot on another zombie with his pistol. "Be ready to move when I say so."
The light intensified as the men who the voices belonged to rounded the boxcar. "Holy shit," Tyrone heard one of the three call out.
Some of the zombies turned towards the sound of the newcomers. The rest kept coming towards him and JT. Tyrone ducked his head, his eyes temporarily blinded, when a beam of light hit him.
"Hey, there's one of them!"
"Tyrone, I’m double sure this isn’t the time for a debate. Let's go!" JT commanded.
Instead of following JT, Tyrone took off for the front boxcar on the track. He could swear he could feel clumps of dirt hitting the back of his legs as the still night was broken by gunfire.
"Get them, get them!" one of the pursuers cried out. "Albright has commanded it. Watch the zombies. On your right, the right!"
Tyrone could see where the attackers were by the waving lights. He wondered if JT was still around or did he go back to the sheriff. He crouched down in between the boxcar and the tank car, by the coupling. He was on his tiptoes, ready to move at a moment's notice. Good thing too, as he was alerted to something behind him moving in fast by its long shadow. He pivoted, at the same time putting his hands out to push whatever it was along. It was a runner. It smacked full speed into the coupling and dropped. Tyrone hit it three times, hacking its head off, satisfied it wouldn’t be getting back up. Tyrone looked around, not seeing any other zombies close to him. However he did seem a light beam come closer to his position. He jumped up and grabbed the railing on the caboose. He lifted himself up and ducked inside.
Light shone over his head as the search continued. Occasionally he would hear a weapon go off. Something smacked into the side of the caboose, sending it rocking. He wasn't prepared and slid along the floor, landing with a thump on the other side.
"Something's in there," He heard a man yell out.
On his hands and knees he crawled to the other end of the caboose. Staying low, he went out the door. He flipped down to the ground. He took a quick glance around, deciding to wriggle under the caboose before they closed in.
Tyrone lay on his back, holding his hatchet to his chest like a security blanket. He could see in great detail the rusted bottom of the caboose. The crunch of footsteps became louder as someone approached. Tyrone held his breath as long as he could, thinking silent and still, silent and still.
Slowly he pivoted his head towards the sound. He could see white sneakers standing in the gravel. The light flashed around, then flashed down towards the ground. Tyrone rolled on his left side, and struck with the hatchet in a wide sweep.
"Oh God," the man cried out, as Tyrone's weapon ripped a long gash in one of the man's ankles.
The light clattered to the ground in a dazzling display. Tyrone rolled back over, almost deafened by the sound of bullets ricocheting off the caboose's wheels and the rails as the man wildly unload towards the ground. Tyrone rolled out the other side in a rush. He was careful not to cut himself but wasn't as careful in paying attention to where he was going. He looked up and raised a hand, shielding his eyes from the overpowering white light.
"Move again and I will put a bullet in you," a man said.
Tyrone could tell he meant it. He let go of the hatchet, cursing himself. He’d been caught after all. He clenched his fists. Here he thought there would be no problem getting back home on his own and he couldn't even make it out of town before being caught. Even worse, he found himself hoping JT was still nearby, so he could be saved.
"Get away. Help, help!" screamed the man on the other side of the boxcar.
The man covering him shifted his attention for a split second. That was all the opening Tyrone needed. He was up and off, arms and legs pumping for all they were worth, running parallel to the train tracks. I'm going to make it. His momentum died when a huge weight crashed into him. Both Tyrone and whatever hit him went tumbling to the ground, landing together in a heap.
Tyrone heaved big gulps of air after having all of it knocked from his body. He half turned his face up from the in the gravel, twisting around to see what hit him. A large man shape was pinning Tyrone's legs to the ground with its body. It rose up quickly, not needing to recover its breath. It stopped and aimlessly shift around and about, like it had lost its senses. It turned around once in a complete circle. Then its dead eyes settled on Tyrone. It took a step forward and fell on top of Tyrone. He managed to turn onto his back and had almost gotten to his feet. Its weight collapsed him. Its head came snapping for Tyrone's neck. A loud bang caused both Tyrone and the zombie to jump. Tyrone felt something wet and clumpy crawl and slide along the side of his neck. His stomach did flips.
"I suggest you don't try that again," the man said, standing over Tyrone again. Tyrone could see it was Charlie.
Charlie kicked the zombie off of Tyrone. It slid off, but whatever substance was on his neck stayed. It was like having warm jello with fruit inside stuck on his skin. Charlie reached down, roughly pulled on Tyrone's arm and yanked him up off the ground. Tyrone winced and bit down moans of pain. Charlie continued handling him roughly as he bound his hands behind his back with some duct tape. Charlie bit off the tape and spun Tyrone around and kicked him in the gut. Tyrone fell to the ground hard. His face burned as gravel dug into his skin. He was yanked back to his feet again.
"Get going, before I change my mind and shoot you anyway."
Looking around, tears streaming down his face, Tyrone saw no sign of JT.
After she left, Gus thought it was going to be a very long wait until afternoon laying there staring at the white curtains. He must have dozed off though, because as he became aware of someone shaking him, he opened his eyes and noticed the drool on his chin.
"Gus, get up! Now’s the time," Linda was hissing at him. She shook him again.
"Alright, alright I'm up," Gus said, grouchy. He was feeling a little dull still.
"Come on," Linda said, trying to help Gus up to a standing position. "Something is going on down at the jail with your friends by the sound of it. Let's go while the Reverend is distracted."
"Alright, let me just get ready," Gus said, snapping fully awake now.
"There’s no time. You’re going to have to go in the pajamas you have on. I’ve been making a stash of important items out in the woods." Linda was sounding desperate now. "Let's go right now."
Linda half lifted, half dragged Gus out of bed and across the room. He winced with pain as she jostled him up the stairs. He was relieved to sit down in the wheelchair at the top. They passed some of the church members on the way to the back door. They all were mulling around, looking confused. He heard one ask another where the Reverend was and if a zombie attack was going on.
No one challenged them or even paid much attention to their passing. Linda parked the wheelchair, opened the back door, and helped Gus up out of the chair. A little too quickly for his taste but he bit his lip. She helped him down the stairs. She sat him on the bottom step and went back for the wheelchair. She practically tumbled it down the stairs past Gus, who was already feeling out of breath. He wasn't too happy about it. Linda got Gus back into the wheelchair and paused. A voice called to them.
"Who's back there? Linda, is that you?"
Standing at the top
of the stairs, holding a candle in a ridiculously over sized holder, was a woman.
"Go back inside Alice," Linda called back. "We’re just going out. Leave us be."
"You want to leave?" Alice asked, sounding stunned. "Why? We have everything here. It's safe here. The Reverend protects us."
Linda didn't reply. She turned and took off at a pace somewhere between a walk and a run, ignoring Alice's shouts. Down the trail into the woods they went in the failing light of early evening.
Gus shivered. A cool breeze pushed through the woods. Multi colored leaves twisted this way and that in the wind. Gus thought soon they would be falling. Linda pushed a little harder after the woods enveloped them. Gus could hear her lungs working overtime as they flew down the path. The chair bumped and joggled, reminding Gus of his truck ride from Harold's cabin to the farmhouse. The pain was a lot less severe this time.
The path petered out and the trees encroached on either side. Linda stopped. Gus thought she needed a little break. Instead he saw her walk over to a tangle of fallen branches and reach inside. She pulled out a blue backpack and slung it over her shoulder.
"This is where you get out Gus," Linda said, winded. "Sorry but it’s walking from here down to the town. I think we should be able to find a good place to hole up until we can find some transportation. And get your friends."
"Won't that be the first place they look?" Gus asked. He wasn't thrilled about losing his ride, even though he knew it had to happen eventually.
"Probably," Linda replied. "The Sheriff though, he thinks of the town as his. It could take awhile for The Reverend to convince Randall to let some men go through the town looking for us. Randall will want to handle it himself. Them squabbling and dick measuring might be just enough of a delay for us to get the hell out of here."
Crashing thuds of something through the trees and the flashing of lights up in the sky alerted them. Someone was coming.
"Alright, sounds like a solid plan," Gus said, grunting as Linda helped him to his feet. She folded up the wheelchair and hid it in the tangle as best she could. "Looks like it's time to put on my boogie shoes."
The Outbreak Series (Book 2): Purgatory Page 15
