As we rushed in, we found Perry sprawled across the girl’s body, protecting her. The back of his head was blown out, bits of brain, bone and blood slithering down the white plastic curtain.
He was still holding his daughter’s hand.
GRIFFIN HAD BEEN MISSING a week. During those last days when I was a prisoner Warnick and Estrada located more Black Dragon soldiers holed up in other buildings around Tres Marias. Though still in pain, Warnick remained in charge, with Estrada as second in command.
We didn’t know why reinforcements hadn’t been sent in. All communication with the higher command had been severed, and Internet service was nonexistent. Though I felt better about Estrada, I still didn’t know where her loyalty lay. Warnick assured me that she was back on the reservation. What concerned me most was that she was a follower. At present, she was happy to follow Warnick.
When I looked in the mirror, I hardly recognized myself. Though the beard hid most of the cuts and bruises, what I saw in my eyes was something older, a weariness belonging to someone else.
Holly looked amazing, lean and ripped. And though she’d always been responsible, there was a new maturity about her that made me believe she could lead her own troops into the Valley of Death. And they would gladly follow.
The Arkon building was secure, and with Holly’s help I made a good recovery. The other survivors were doing better too. They’d been eating and putting on weight, and their spirits were up. The soldiers trained them not only to survive but to fight.
I checked on Nina Zimmer and her daughter, Evan. Both were doing well. Warnick’s men had brought her more baby formula, bottled water and diapers.
Warnick kept the troops focused and motivated. Though finding Griffin was a top priority, he decided that Tres Marias wouldn’t be safe till we located Ormand and took him out by any means necessary. But we didn’t know where he was, and his men at the brewery refused to tell us.
After the fighting, the soldiers gathered the nailhead survivors in the room in which I had been imprisoned, intending to interrogate them. What they didn’t know—and what I never guessed the whole time I was in there—was that weapons had been hidden inside. At the sound of gunfire, the soldiers burst through, only to find the prisoners dead from gunshot wounds. They entered as the last one put a handgun in his mouth and fired.
Warnick felt they’d significantly weakened Ormand’s organization and it was time to finish what they started. Daily patrols went in search of the command center. As time went on, they met less and less resistance. Soon there was no sign of the Red Militia in the streets.
Sometimes I heard skirmishes outside, setting me on edge. Mostly it was dragger hordes. Because I was not permitted to help till my leg was better, I waited for Holly to replay what happened. “We took out a nest of draggers.” “A couple of nailheads tried to break in and we had to kill them.” I didn’t like that she’d volunteered to help defend our base, but there was no denying she was good.
“I fired a grenade launcher today,” she said.
“Wish I could’ve been there.” If I sounded hurt, I meant it that way.
“You need to rest, honey.” I couldn’t remember the last time she called me that.
“You never told me how you made it here,” I said.
She told me everything. Holly and Griffin hid out with Greta in a small apartment above a neighborhood grocery store in the middle of town. They were close to the daily nailhead patrols, yet no one knew they were there. One time Greta heard something and barked. They thought they’d had it, but no one had heard. Draggers tried to break in from time to time, but all the doors and windows had been fortified by the previous occupant.
During that time they had everything they needed—food, water and medicine. Holly eventually found a cell phone and charger and transferred her SIM card to it. When she received my text containing the address of our base, she and Griffin planned how to make their way there. But by then I had been captured.
Several times they were almost discovered. Before reaching the base, a firefight broke out with a group of nailheads. Warnick’s men were out patrolling the area. They killed off the nailheads and rescued the two women and, of course, Greta.
Vinh had shown me how to do my own physical therapy for my leg. The exercises were painful, but I wanted so much to get back to the fight, I did them every day. One day as I stretched, Holly came into the office we had converted to sleeping quarters. She was excited.
“We think we know where Griffin is,” she said.
“Where?”
“The high school.”
“But there’s no one in that place except draggers.”
“That’s what we thought. Some of the men were out patrolling this morning, and they found a nailhead in an alley. He’d been bitten, and I guess his friends left him there to die.”
“They didn’t shoot him?”
“He didn’t even have a weapon. When the soldiers found him, he was nearly gone. He told them that Ormand was at the high school. They were protecting civilians. The men asked about Griffin, and he said that she was alive.”
I was happy to learn about Griffin, but I was worried too. Ormand’s whole approach had been cold and calculating. He wanted to win, and he was willing to sacrifice anything—and anyone. I asked Warnick to call a meeting.
Holly and I met with Warnick and Estrada in a conference room.
“Ormand’s not protecting those civilians,” I said. “He’s using them as human shields.”
“How do you know?” Estrada said.
“Because it’s all he’s got left.” Then to Warnick, “Look, his plan all along was to show that while some of you guys freaked out—”
“Dave,” Holly said.
“I’m sorry,” I said to Estrada, “but you know what I’m saying.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “I get it.”
“He wanted to show that, in all this craziness, he and his group were the sane ones, the ones who cared. And the deaths of some soldiers were necessary to save Tres Marias.”
“Right,” Warnick said. “That means he’s keeping the civilians—and Griffin—very close. If we attack and some are killed, he can say it was our fault, not his.”
“I don’t understand,” Holly said. “So we don’t attack?”
“Do we know how many men are defending the high school?” Warnick said.
“I’m guessing not more than a hundred,” Estrada said. “We’ve pretty much decimated them.”
“They haven’t patrolled in a long time,” Warnick said. “I think they already know we’re coming.”
“So what do we do?” I said.
“We don’t keep them waiting. How’s your leg?”
We had no choice but to use force. We knew that Ormand would never come out into the open. We also knew that Griffin and the other civilians were as good as dead if we waited. Their only chance was for us to storm the place.
Though my leg hurt, I made sure everyone knew I was ready to be a part of this. The plan was to leave a small group of soldiers at Arkon while we deployed everyone else to the high school. We had more weapons and vehicles and would make an impressive showing—impressive enough that many of the nailheads might choose to surrender rather than to fight.
Though Holly wanted to go, both Warnick and Estrada forbade it. She had become a valuable asset to Black Dragon, and they didn’t want to lose her. To soothe Holly’s ego, Warnick put her in charge of the troops in the building. She would see to it that the civilians were protected—especially Nina and her baby. And she wouldn’t be alone. Many of them were strong enough to help defend the building.
Since my rescue, Holly had given me strong signals she wanted to be alone with me. On the afternoon before we were to deploy, she sent Greta out, closed the door to our room and drew the shades. I could think of a more romantic setting than an insurance office, but we were so hot for each other, it didn’t matter. We almost got away with it, but Greta began whining and scratching at
the door. And she wouldn’t stop.
“Greta!” Holly said.
The dog persisted. Groaning, Holly let her in. Once she was satisfied that we were both safe, she curled up in a corner and closed her eyes. The passion sidetracked for a moment, Holly and I held each other.
“What am I going to do with you?” she said, stroking my hair and beard.
“Stay with me.”
“I think that’s doable.”
I tried kissing her, but she pressed her fingers to my lips.
“Do you ever think about her?”
“I think about everything I lost. Especially your love.”
“You have it,” she said, and kissed me deeply. “Always.”
Morning came too soon. Holly and I had slept in each other’s arms. It wasn’t light yet when Estrada rapped on the door.
“Let’s move out, Pulaski.”
“Be right there,” I said.
As I sat up, Holly tried pulling me back to her, and I took her hands in mine.
“I’ll be back soon,” I said.
“Are you taking Greta?” she said.
“She’s needed here.”
The dog whined softly and licked my hand. I didn’t want to prolong this, so I helped Holly to her feet, hugged her deeply and kissed her.
“I want to show you something,” I said.
I pulled open my shirt, revealing the gold crucifix she’d given me in Mt. Shasta. She smiled as she adjusted the gold chain around my neck.
“You’re a pretty awesome guy,” she said.
“Yeah?”
“Come back to me, okay?”
When I opened the door, Estrada and Warnick were waiting.
It was still dark when we moved out. There were 150 of us. We split up into four convoys, each of which came at the high school from a different direction. I rode with Warnick, Estrada and Springer, who wore a bandage around his neck.
“I never told you how glad I was you made it back,” I said to him.
“Appreciate it, man.”
“Things better with Holly?” Warnick said.
“Oh yeah.”
We met no resistance as we neared the high school. The sun was coming up, and we saw the deserted parking lot. A few draggers wandered from one end to the other, searching for live food. We wondered where all the nailheads’ vehicles had gone and decided that they had hidden them so as not to attract attention.
Warnick used binoculars to check out the second-story windows. At first there was no one. Then the shooting began, and it was on.
My orders were to stay close to Warnick and Springer no matter what. We didn’t know if Griffin was on the second floor and couldn’t chance launching grenades, so instead we used riot guns to shoot tear-gas canisters in to clear the floor, hoping that whoever was up there would come out and surrender. More soldiers poured into the parking lot to clear out the draggers.
As we moved in, the shooting intensified. We still didn’t know how many nailheads we were fighting, but those who were there were heavily armed. Warnick kept screaming orders, but I couldn’t hear him, so I stayed close.
We made our way to the gymnasium, thinking there might be civilians inside. Someone forced open the heavy, metal double doors. It was dark inside, and the stench was revolting. A sea of dark shapes floated towards us. For a second I thought we’d saved these people.
Then I saw them.
The gym was filled with draggers, as Landry predicted. Amid death shrieks and demons running towards us, we laid into them with automatic fire from our AR-15s. They went down, but more kept coming. Then other soldiers appeared with grenade launchers and fired into the gym. Explosions went off everywhere, blowing draggers into pieces. Finally, we were able to shut the doors again and secure them with chains. Desperate grey hands reached through the opening as we backed away.
“These men can finish securing the area,” Warnick said to Springer and me. “Let’s find Griffin.”
Soldiers had breached all the buildings and brought out nailheads who appeared weak and defeated. A few young women came out with them, lifting their arms with joy at seeing the soldiers. One held the hand of a boy who looked to be around six. Griffin was not among them.
I was surprised that it took less than an hour to secure the high school. These people were hungry, sick and scared. They wanted it to be over.
Our platoon searched every building, every maintenance shed, hoping to find Griffin, Travis or Ormand. As we made our way outside, a woman cried out. Warnick signaled for Springer and me to proceed while he jogged off in the opposite direction.
As we rounded a corner, we saw Travis dragging Griffin by the hair towards the auto shop. When she fell to the ground he kicked her repeatedly, but she wouldn’t get up. Springer and I moved out into the open, training our weapons on him.
“Travis!” I said.
Griffin looked back. “Dave!”
Travis stopped and faced us, pointing his rifle at the girl’s head. “How many times we gotta go through this?”
A rapid stuttering of gunfire tore through the air, and Travis’s diseased forearm blew apart, the skeletal hand still gripping the rifle. Wailing, he fell to his knees as Griffin scrambled away and ran to me.
Warnick walked up behind Travis, training his AR-15 on the nailhead. “Where’s Ormand, Travis?”
Travis snorted, clutching what was left of his arm. “What? You gonna kill me? I’m already dead.”
“Let’s get him out of here,” Warnick said.
Griffin grabbed my handgun, marched up to her stepfather and pointed it at his face. When Warnick tried to intervene, she turned the gun on him, her eyes hot with anger and hatred.
“Don’t do this,” Warnick said as Griffin took aim at Travis’s head.
“Griffin,” Travis said. Though there was terror in his eyes, he tried to smile. “You can’t shoot your daddy.”
“Shut up, Travis. You’re not my family.” Then, with perfect calm, she squeezed the trigger.
His face opened up like a blood flower, and he fell onto his side. Dropping the gun, she kicked the lifeless body hard till I came up and touched her shoulder.
“It’s okay, he’s dead.”
She wept in my arms.
Unable to locate Ormand, we proceeded to the football field, where the soldiers held all the prisoners. We counted eighty men, a dozen women and the boy. This couldn’t be all that was left of the Red Militia.
Warnick, his AR-15 slung over his shoulder, paced back and forth in front of the prisoners. “Where’s Ormand Ferry?” They averted their eyes. “It’s over,” he said. “We want to help you. You need to tell us where he is.”
Estrada walked up to the woman holding the boy. “Do you know where he is?”
She shook her head. Another man stood. As our soldiers trained their weapons on him, he addressed Warnick in a voice devoid of emotion.
“He left us here to die,” he said. “Only Travis knew where he was headed.”
“Are we supposed to believe that?” Estrada said to Warnick. She walked to the man and pointed her handgun at his temple. He didn’t flinch. “Tell me where he is.”
“He doesn’t know,” the woman said. “Nobody here knows.”
“Estrada, stand down,” Warnick said.
Frustrated, she put down her gun and stepped back.
“We’re evacuating you from this place,” Warnick said. “You’ll have access to food and medicine. But you will remain under arrest.” Then to Estrada, “Prepare to move out.”
The soldiers got the prisoners to their feet. Some were in bad shape and needed assistance. Griffin and I took charge of the woman and her boy, who looked past me and screamed.
I wheeled around and found draggers—hundreds of them—heading towards us. Someone had opened the gym doors. Among them were the recently dead soldiers who had come with us.
Warnick ordered our troops to spread out and kill as many as possible. We shot many of them, but others made it onto the field
and attacked the prisoners, who were too weak to fight them off. I ordered Griffin and the other woman to hide behind us, but it was no use. We had to move fast or risk getting bit.
In a few minutes, we were overrun and had to get out. I lifted the boy in my arms and told Griffin and the woman to follow me to the exits. I didn’t see where Warnick and Springer were. As we made it to the gate, I turned to find Estrada being pulled down by several of the hungry creatures as she tried to protect the other women. She screamed and fired uselessly into the sky. Then they tore out her throat and fed on her.
I found our Humvee and got the woman and boy inside. I wanted to go back to help Warnick, but the woman pleaded with me not to leave. I heard shooting in the distance and screams as more prisoners and soldiers were eviscerated. I looked at the woman and boy and saw terror in their eyes.
I was back where I’d started—a twentysomething coward who didn’t help as others were dying. And I didn’t like it.
“What’s your name?” I said.
“Nanette. This is Jonathan.”
“Listen to me, Nanette. I need to get back.”
“No!”
“You’ll be fine here.”
“No, please.”
I turned to Griffin. “Stay here. Take this gun and lock all the doors after I leave.”
“No, I want to go with you.”
“Griffin, you need to protect them. That’s your job now.”
I went around to the back of the Humvee and got my axe. Then I stood next to the door and signaled for Griffin to lock the doors. Reluctantly she did so and stared at me, gripping the AR-15 tightly in her hands. I knew she’d be okay, and I left.
I didn’t know at that moment whether I would live or die. But, like Warnick, I had faith. Faith in myself and faith in God that somehow I would get out of this thing and return to Holly. Her face was all I saw as I tore into the shrieking pit of vipers attacking our men.
Ignoring the pain in my leg, I focused on swinging the axe. With each swing, I took off a head or an arm. As I did so, other soldiers followed behind me and finished off the injured draggers with kill shots to the head. I no longer thought about being bit. I went where I was needed, separating arms from torsos and splitting skulls.
The Dead Series (Book 1): Tell Me When I'm Dead Page 27
