Molterpocalypse (The Molting Book 3)

by C A Gleason

  “I’ve yet to determine that. Now, the location of your supplies, so my guys can get there quick, load up, get back safe, and get it all over with.”

  Whatever that entailed would not benefit Jonah and his people one bit. So, because Jonah had nothing else to say, and Frox could obviously sense that, he turned and nodded. Perry and other men who appeared behind him walked into the tent.

  Perry looked down at Jonah as if he were an Infector he was about to squash with a heavy steel-toed boot. “You’re the one we were looking for, fucker. You killed our people. I know it was you. Where’d you put the bodies?”

  Jonah gave Perry’s big round shaved head a thousand-yard stare.

  “Probably close to home, huh?”

  As Jonah and his friend Eric had learned during their brief stint in college, some guys just couldn’t take a joke. With Perry’s bulk, obvious strength, and bullying demeanor, Jonah already knew hardly anyone had ever challenged him physically. Who would? But Jonah was also betting hardly anyone had ever messed with his head.

  “Hey dumbass, your fort doesn’t have a roof,” Jonah said.

  “What the f—? Forts don’t have roofs! You’re the dumbass.” Perry was clearly ready to become angry. His temper continued. “Think you’re the only one who can track? We were waiting for whoever it was who killed our people. Turned out that was you.”

  A bluff. Perry knew nothing for certain. Jonah had been ambushed, but they hardly knew anything about him, and he was going to keep it that way. For all Jonah knew, Perry was only fishing for information so Jonah might slip up and admit to something they only assumed he’d done. Jonah decided to ask Perry a question he already knew the answer to. That way, he could continue to evade their questioning.

  “Does your fort have a bathroom?” Before Perry could say anything, Jonah said to him, “Never mind. Not like you’re in charge.” And as Perry was reacting to that, Jonah said, “Frox! Let me retain a little dignity. Let me piss on some snow before we go wherever we’re headed.”

  “Again?”

  “That was hours ago. I got a weak bladder. I admit it. It’s my only weakness.”

  Frox grinned at him and nodded to an underling. “Sure. But you dash, and you know what will happen.”

  “I thought we covered that.”

  “Just wanted to remind you.”

  One of them clipped the plastic zip tie holding Jonah’s hands together behind his back. It was the third one put on him since he had to urinate the first time and uncomfortably tighter than the last. Once off, the tension vanished, and his hands warmed with instant relief. He brought them around from behind him and massaged his sore wrists, cracking his knuckles and shaking his hands out as if they were sorer than they actually were.

  “And remember this, too,” Perry said, taking a confident step closer to him. “You try anything, do anything stupid, and I’ll punch you so hard you’ll go into the past. That way, you’ll forget your lies, repeat them, and that’ll give me the chance to knock your dumb ass out again.”

  Jonah snickered and stood, still having to look up at him. “Speaking of stupid, how long have you been waiting to say that to somebody?”

  “Oh, I’ve said it before.”

  “I bet you have.”

  Perry smirked. “Run. Go ahead. I actually want you to . . . so I can shoot ya . . . or one of these guys will.”

  “No shit,” Jonah said, still massaging his wrists, allowing them to think he was actually recovering from pain he couldn’t handle. “I’m not going to run, dummy. Just gotta piss. Pay attention.”

  Perry’s smirk grew into a broad smile that was a sharp contrast to his murderous posture. Perfect, Jonah thought. But he also realized how dangerous some plans were, or aspects of them, like provoking a dangerous man like Perry because he looked like he was debating strangling Jonah to death.

  When Jonah walked out of the tent, he didn’t realize how stiff and sore he actually would be. He hadn’t been thinking about it, but it was from sitting in one position for so long. The entrance of the fort—Jonah thought of it as the exit—had been the only thing on his mind since he came to. There were armed guards everywhere, above and on the ground, but he noticed their focus was outward so that no one, and nothing, could get in.

  If he made his move now, realistically, because of his previous immobility, it would only be an unimpressive fast jog at first, so he moved as slowly as they probably expected someone who had given up to do. Jonah didn’t have to urinate; that had been a lie, one of a few lately. He’d already been allowed to go a few hours before, and his bladder felt empty, but he still made his way to the closest bush.

  It was the one nearest to the open tailgate of Henry’s truck, where Perry had placed Jonah’s machete along with his other belongings. Put there for everyone’s safety. It was a good distance away, about thirty feet or so. As Jonah assumed the position to relieve himself, he spun rapidly and then sprinted for it.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Perry shouted. “We got guns, you idiot!”

  Already there and turning toward the angry voice, Jonah ripped the machete out of the sheath and flung it. Perry quickly ducked but it still managed to clip his ear—Jonah had been aiming for his throat—and then it sunk into one of the trees that held Perry’s fort together. Perry’s ear dripped blood, and Jonah was soon seized by men who’d surrounded him.

  It was what Jonah had been expecting to happen, but he thought there was a slim chance he’d spot an opportunity to get away because it would be so unexpected. What kind of lunatic who wanted to live would risk his life by running with so many guns aimed at him and no way out? Someone like Jonah, who was trained to rely on instincts, that’s who, and now he was positive they weren’t going to kill him yet.

  They were going to use him for the Draw, and remaining defiant would allow him to possess his secrets longer. That had only been the backup plan, though. Running away, simply, was his best opportunity to escape because if he made it to that tree line, they’d never find him. And anyone who set foot in there after him would be a dead man.

  Except he’d failed.

  “He’s a fucking animal, he is!” Perry roared, holding his bleeding ear. “Look what he did to my ear!” he said to Frox.

  “I was aiming for your throat,” Jonah said with as much cockiness as he could muster. He would never miss an opportunity to agitate an underling. Even one of Perry’s size.

  “Yeah? Well, you missed, cocksucker!”

  Perry marched to where the machete was embedded, yanked it out, and turned as if he might throw it back at Jonah. Or maybe walk up to him and stab him with it. The men who held Jonah in place stepped around nervously.

  “Perry,” Frox said.

  Perry held the machete up, his eyes raging behind it. “You’re not ever getting this back!”

  “Fine,” Jonah said. “Not my best one anyway. The blade’s dull. That’s why I wasted it on you.”

  Perry huffed angrily and walked back to where the blade had been stuck before he’d yanked it out and chopped it back into the fort. Breathing heavily and angry, Perry turned and glared at Frox, his eyebrows and hands raising up together as an unspoken question. Frox eyed him a moment and then gave a reluctant nod, the answer Perry was hoping for because it made him smile, and he slowly approached where the other men were holding Jonah in place.

  Perry brought a heavy fist back; waited, making sure Jonah knew what was coming; and then actually did knock him out.

  CHAPTER 12

  When Jonah came to, his hands and feet were hogtied with rope. He lay on his stomach near the gate of a speeding pickup truck. He couldn’t tell whose truck it was, but it wasn’t Henry’s. He could feel the cold of the stony metal through his jacket. He struggled to move his head and saw the boots of the men sitting around the truck bed guarding him. Then he turned and saw Frox, the only man clearly in his view, sitting against the back of the cab, rocking to the bumps from the road. Jonah couldn’t have been more angry
with himself. Here he was, immobile and tied up, being transported to his imminent death. Hopefully, Doreen didn’t think he’d abandoned her.

  No, she wouldn’t think that because he wouldn’t do that. Not to them. Not to anyone. He’d made mistakes in his past but ones he’d learned from. Just like at Henrytown, he would never leave his people behind again.

  “You stupid bastard,” Perry said from out of Jonah’s view. “You tried to take my head off. How about a little gratitude?”

  Jonah couldn’t see Perry, but he could see his boots. They were the ones nearest to him. “For punching me in the face? Yeah, thanks.”

  “For keeping you alive.”

  “I’ve kept myself alive.”

  “If you only knew the truth.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Perry,” Frox said, and shook his head.

  “He should know.” There was slight pleading in Perry’s tone, but he obviously respected Frox’s new authority. “Everyone should.”

  “It’s my place to explain,” Frox said.

  A subtle moment of trepidation crossed Frox’s face because of what Perry had said. It wasn’t fear, but something close to that, fear of what might happen next and the kind of reaction a man had when he had to be tough toward someone he didn’t want to, and that someone was thinking about challenging him. Frox and Perry were obviously friends, so the evolution of their roles was probably quite awkward. It was probably similar to how Jonah had to behave toward his best friend, Eric, while in Oberstein. How Jonah had to take charge even though he didn’t want to. It had changed the dynamic of their friendship.

  “Can’t wait to hear this,” Jonah said.

  “There’s an army of them always on the attack. So many they would kill us all,” Frox said.

  “Unless?”

  “Unless we take precautions.”

  “And the Draw is that precaution?”

  “One of them. We naturally attract them, so what better way to take them out?”

  “You use people as bait.”

  “A person who is tied up, flailing, panicking, often wailing—it’s no different to them than one they have to hunt down except from their perspective it’s an easier kill. And just like any predator, they will kill the weak and immobile first.”

  “They just keep coming,” Perry said. “No one ever accused them of being geniuses.”

  “That allows us to eliminate stragglers, ones we miss from the main offensive,” Frox said. “People laid bare draw them in, expose them to our gunmen in waiting.”

  “It isn’t just us that attracts them. Their own kind does too,” Jonah said. “People will die from exposure eventually, and someone on display is very enticing to an Infector . . . Ah, so, which is more effective: using a person, your own species, against his or her will—?”

  “His will,” Perry said. “Always men, never women.”

  “How decent of you,” Jonah said to Perry’s boots. “Or is it more effective to use a Molter?”

  “Molters naturally crowd together en masse so they’re often difficult to capture,” Frox said, and hesitated as if he didn’t want to say more about that in particular. “But we all know they can be created.”

  Jonah did his best not to let his revulsion show. “So you start off with a person, who attracts Molters, and then they’re either killed by one of them, die some other way, or an Infector bites them, and they molt. And everyone knows Molters are attracted to Molters. Am I missing anything?”

  “Oh yeah. But it’s gonna be a surprise,” Perry said.

  Jonah just loved the way he’d said that. “And you’re going to murder me the same way? I’d rather you just put a bullet in my head right now.”

  “Oh, I—we—would love to,” Perry said. “Got plans for you, though. Worse than your imaginings.”

  “Coward.”

  Perry kicked Jonah in the ribs, and the air went out of his lungs. Those around Perry laughed as Jonah coughed and struggled to catch his breath. Jonah hadn’t been expecting that. He thought they wouldn’t mistreat him because of what they had planned for him or that Frox would interfere and control Perry. But even Frox was probably smart to stay out of his way. Maybe because of what was planned for Jonah, it didn’t matter anymore.

  Deep down, Jonah always knew he would have to deal with other people eventually. Before those men had showed up at the cabin, he honestly thought—naïvely—that everyone would be on the same side. Nothing like how it actually was, with people having turned on one another to survive. Then again maybe it was always that way. And, on an even deeper level, Jonah had probably always known it too. The best example of how much he distrusted his own kind was how hard he had worked at hiding supplies and weapons at the burial sites.

  Jonah could finally breathe well enough to speak. “Untie me and try that,” he croaked.

  Perry harrumphed. “You deserved it. You know it.”

  “Good to know what kind of men I’m dealing with.”

  “Don’t forget.”

  “I always remember.”

  “You got yourself down there. Remember that too.”

  “Don’t kick him again,” Frox commanded.

  “Why not use some kind of animal for the Draw instead? Like a deer?” Jonah said.

  “You think we didn’t consider that?” Perry said.

  “Anything other than how we do it is unproven,” Frox said.

  “Trust me,” Jonah said. “They like deer.”

  “We don’t trust a damn thing you say,” Perry said.

  “You could breed deer or anything else that moves around with blood in their veins,” Jonah said. “Anything would be better than turning on your own species.”

  “Not reliably,” Frox said.

  Jonah shook his head in disbelief. “Where are we going?” he said to Frox.

  Perry answered. “The firing line.”

  “Of what?”

  “The battle of all battles.”

  “Sounds like something I want to take part in.”

  Perry couldn’t hide his malicious tone. “You will.”

  “Know this,” Frox said. “What happens next, your contribution to the Draw is appreciated. Even if we all think you’re a son of a bitch. Your participation will save lives and keep many of our people safe.”

  “I’m honored. But what I don’t understand is . . .” Jonah struggled to move his hands behind his back. “Untie me!”

  No one made a move to do anything close to that. Only Frox and Perry had the power to make such a decision happen. The only movement by anyone was the jostling of uncontrolled motion by the truck driving over the many imperfections of a poorly maintained road.

  “What?” Jonah shouted. “You all afraid of me? Just one man among all you?”

  “We’re not afraid of you,” Perry said. “You ran. Remember?”

  “I’m not going to do that again,” Jonah lied. “I give you my word. Just tie me up again before we get to wherever the hell we’re going. Think I’m going to jump out of a moving vehicle?”

  “Probably.”

  “I’d like to be comfortable as we talk. All of you have guns. I don’t. Man up.”

  “Untie him,” Frox said.

  “What?” Perry said.

  “You heard me.”

  Perry exhaled dramatically. Reluctantly, he carefully untied the rope that hogtied Jonah. Jonah noticed he didn’t cut the rope, which obviously meant they might tie him up the same way again. Whether he would be hogtied again or twisted in some other uncomfortable fashion was keeping him in the worst kind of suspense.

  When the ropes were off him completely, he heard himself sigh with relief and felt his legs flop onto the bed. He pushed himself upward very slowly and carefully, his shoulder joints quite sore, but he also didn’t want another kick to the gut or a bullet in the head if he annoyed them so much that Frox changed his mind about keeping him alive.

  “Give him some room,” Frox said.

  The
men didn’t move from where they sat, but they did shuffle their booted feet around, faking as if they were doing something. At least they didn’t get any closer to him. Jonah got himself upright, and then he sat as comfortably as possible, rubbing his sore wrists—they were actually starting to hurt now between the zip ties and the ropes that had been tied tautly.

  “Thank you,” Jonah said.

  Frox was only a few feet away from him. Jonah could get ahold of him if he moved quickly enough. Might even be able to kill him with an uppercut to the nose like he had that mouthy blond idiot and then surprise the others by grabbing one of them, pushing him off, and landing on top of him to break his fall.

  If only Perry weren’t among them. Even though Frox was in charge, and Jonah didn’t hesitate to mess with Perry, a physical altercation with him was something else entirely. Perry was not the type of man you wanted to tangle with. He would likely take Frox’s place of leadership within seconds if Jonah weren’t successful in taking out both of them.

  Jonah would need to disarm one of the guards he was closest to, kill the others with that weapon—including Perry and Frox—and that would all have to happen before they could return fire and within the close quarters of the truck bed. The plan would likely fail. There were too many of them, too many fingers resting on triggers, and also too many other variables. None of it was in Jonah’s control, so he decided he wouldn’t take action yet.

  “We close?” Jonah said.

  “You in a hurry?” Perry said. “You shouldn’t be.”

  “Whatever you guys got planned, I’d rather get to it.”

  “Trust me, you don’t.”

  “Right. I’d much rather delay my death. That way I can think about it more.”

  “You’re not the only smart guy. That’s for my ear.”

  No one in the truck bed had been in the military, so they hadn’t been stamped with that mind frame for the rest of their lives. They didn’t know what Jonah did, how when taken by the enemy you weren’t supposed to give up any information other than name, rank, and serial number, and they were going along with what he wanted them to whether they knew it or not.