“Your little plan was kind of cute, I admit. The type of plan cowards would use, but hey, who am I to judge?” He smiles, then hits Roger in the face again. I wince. “My problem is not that you ruined my family by being a bunch of sneaky bastards. No. That I can appreciate. We're living in a dog eats dog world now, and I get that. We do what we have to do to survive."
He moves to Margaret and grabs her by the chin. She spits on his face and tries to headbutt him. I close my eyes and grit my teeth when Red Star punches her square in the face, twice. He then places his gun on her temple.
“See? That's what I mean. Violence breeds violence. And I really love me some violence." He presses the trigger, but as my mouth opens, nothing happens. Is he playing Russian roulette with us? “But you know what I hate?”
He walks to Roger, and points the gun against my friend's forehead.
“Long boring speeches?” I ask, voice high pitched, to catch his attention. “Because I sure do hate them.”
Red Star looks at me with a smirk. “I'm sorry, are you not entertained enough, little guy?”
“Nope. Villain monologues aren't really all that fun.”
I see the dark hole of the gun's barrel pointed straight at me. I close my eyes.
And then we hear moans. I open my eyes. Taco has been completely zombified now. He can’t get up without the support of his arms, so instead he tries to crawl to the closest person around. Red Star rolls his eyes and kicks the zombie in the stomach. The thing moans and keeps going. So Red Star throws the chains to Tomahawk, who forces the zombie up and pulls him away from us by the neck.
“Okay, enough bullshit. How did you guys know about me? I don’t remember sending an invitation to my house-warming party.”
I look over to Roger, searching for instructions. Part of me wants to answer, but the lack of reaction from Margaret and my friend, shuts me up.
“No answer? Huh. Strange. What happened to the smartass comments and defiant spits? Zombie got your tongue?”
With a nod to Tomahawk, the man lets go of the chain. The thing runs right at me, blood hitting me in the face again. I try to jump back, but Red Star holds me firmly by the shoulder.
I barely listen to Red Star’s voice as the zombie drools over my lap, deterred only by the chain. “Let me ask again: How did you guys find us?”
“We scouted the area,” Roger answers. “Now leave him alone.”
The chain forces the zombie to move back, but barely. My eyes fixate on his teeth and tongue hanging like a crazed dog. The lumps have deformed his face for good, nothing but his mouth is visible. I wince.
“You scouted the area. Just like that. And then decided to kill us all… You think I’m going to buy that? I know you are from that shitty town. So cut the bullcrap.” He circles back to stand in front us, takes the chains, and then drags the zombie to the right, forcing it to face Roger. “What I want to know is who told you about my plans. You see, I’m pretty pissed off about my surprise party being ruined.”
The chain falls a bit, leaving room for the zombie to run again. I catch my breath as Roger turns his head to the left just in time to avoid a bite.
“You are outnumbered now. Just leave the town alone.” Margaret says with no hint of fear and an expression of defiance.
Red Star looks at her with a smirk. “Oh, this is not about the stupid town. I want the Professor. Is he still there?”
“Who?” I ask, knowing full well he’s talking about bald Professor Spencer. “There are a lot of professors around. You need to be specific, man.”
Red Star lets out a hoarse laugh, letting the chain scrape the ground as he strides towards me. “He's bald and prissy. Speaks good and proper, with an accent. Carries a briefcase.”
“Oh, that guy.” I gulp for air, and then I roll my eyes to pretend I’m not trying to buy time or that I’m scared shitless of the raving zombie next to Red Star. “You can have that guy if you want.”
“Finally some progress.” He claps, quickly looking at his crew then back at me, never once closing that toothy smile. “Where is he now?”
“Why? Are you planning to kill him?” Roger asks.
“Yes. After.”
“After what?” He insists.
“After I get what I want. Is the good sheriff trying to protect the bald bastard? How boring of you.” He sighs, tosses the chain back at Tomahawk, and crosses his arms. “Fine. You are not going to cooperate. That’s fine.”
He paces around us, methodically with a hand on his chin. Zombie Taco gets restless, but Tomahawk doesn’t let him move too much.
“You know what? I think is time we paid a visit to this cute little town of yours. And you better pray the Professor is still around. Otherwise, I’m going to refill my ranks with you guys. But the undead version of each of you. Like dear old Taco here.”
I gulp and hope Ma already left Redwood for good.
The Hunter's Daughter VI
December 18th, Friday, 1 am
As soon I hear three car doors shutting, I put the truck in reverse, turn it around and accelerate. We head back to the school. My eyes go from the front window to the rear-view mirror: I spot two military-grade trucks painted in green camouflage coming fast in our direction. I turn a corner and park my truck on the back of the school, backing up the bed of the truck to block the basketball court’s doors.
“Get out and tell people to come take the weapons. Arm everyone that doesn’t look like they will shoot themselves in the eye,” I say to Mrs. Terrence.
“What about you? Where are you going?”
“Slow them down. Use the time to prepare everything like I told you earlier, okay?”
I open the door, but she places a hand on my arm. “Lily, wait… You can’t go alone. I’m going with you.”
There it is again. The same determined look. We don’t have time to argue.
“Fine, but you do what I say, okay?” She nods. I turn to O’Neil. “You.”
“Me?” The skinny police officer barks from the backseat.
“Don’t let them in. Don’t let anyone leave either, okay? And keep everyone calm. I’ll be back soon.”
After a brief hesitation, he nods. I jump out of the car, taking one of weapon bags with me. Mrs. Terrence tries to keep up with my pace as I run, head low and staying out of view, using the buildings as cover. For a second, I let myself think of Roger’s fate. Could it be that he stole the trucks to get to town faster?
That hope dies quickly enough as I picture what Father would say about that. “He’s dead. And you will be too if you keep doing this.”
“What’s our plan?”
I chew the inside of my mouth, eyes fixed on the street ahead. “Assess the situation. Find a weakness in their defense. Keep them away from the school as long as we can. Kick their… butts.” No way I’m saying ‘ass’ to her. That road leads to a long lecture.
“That’s a list of goals, not a plan, dear.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Okay. Let me know if I can help.”
Using the fire escape on the drugstore, we reach the building’s roof. The store is right in front of the Pizzeria and the tallest building on Main Street. I have the advantage here.
I crouch next to the wall, and take out a sniper rifle from my bag, loading it with swift fingers. My aim is still suffering from my shoulder injury, but now’s not the time to worry about the pain of the recoil.
The trucks are parked in the middle of the street, with their front highlights illuminating the darkness around it. Three people come out of them, all wearing camouflaged uniforms, helmets and heavy bulletproof vests, which means I have to be creative. With my bad shoulder and worse aim, I can’t snipe them from here like I wanted. It’s going to be close combat or nothing. Each solder has an automatic rifle with a flashlight in its tips and a small handgun. They wear trinkets, jewelry, colorful helmets and various other decorations. They definitely aren’t with the Army, or any official military organization for t
hat matter.
They start kicking in the windows and doors of Old Joe’s Pizzeria. I wait, because I know they wouldn’t leave the trucks unguarded. With my scope I survey the inside of each truck and find two drivers. That’s five people. I can deal with these odds.
Father’s lessons on combat strategies fill my mind. Of course, most of them needed two people to work, but I’m not sold on the idea of risking Mrs. Terrence’s life, so I’ll need to be creative.
“Mrs. Terrence, how good you are with a sniper rifle?” I whisper, both our heads down.
“I have no idea, but I suspect better than most.”
I bite my lip. “Okay, here’s the plan. I’m going down there, inside the pizzeria, to get rid of some of them. This will make the drivers get out of their cars to find out what’s happening.”
“If you say so.”
“While they try to shoot at me, you shoot them from up here. Can you do that?”
Her eyes rest on the sniper rifle in my hands. “Cover fire. Yes. I may not hit anything, but they’ll be confused at least.”
Of course she knows what cover fire is. I smile at her. “We are going to save the town, don’t worry, Mrs. Terrence. And please stay out of view. I’ll try to be quick about it, so they don’t have enough time to figure out where you are, but if they do, you need to climb down and hide, okay?”
“Yes, dear. Good idea.”
The building next to the drugstore is a barbershop, smaller and lower. The jump to that roof will hurt a lot, especially since I’m going to land on my right side, but I do it anyway. I run across the second rooftop and reach the closed pet shop. Since it was abandoned by its owner, Redwood teens use it as a meeting place. I use the plank they brought to pass another set of rooftops. I climb down, planting my feet at the sidewalk at the end of the street, right at the exit of the town.
I cross the pavement, keeping an eye out for any movement. The trucks remain parked at the same spot and a few forms move around. I track my way back to them, behind the buildings. From this angle I can see the back of each truck.
That’s when I recognize Roger, sitting in the back with his hands and feet tied, mouth covered with tape. My heart beats with joy, then with dread. He’s a hostage. They are going to use him against me.
Father’s advice is clear in my head. “Then don’t let them. Ignore him. Better yet, leave town.”
No. That’s not how things will end. I’m going to save him and finish these bastards off.
A closer inspection reveals also my mother and Danny being held at gunpoint by a man with a big red star painted on his vest, he has a mullet and the appearance of a deadbeat drunk who thinks himself the top dog of the bar. Beside them, a man with a Tomahawk tattoo holds in chains an infected man with no arms.
They are going to threaten them with the bite. Damn.
Hopefully Mrs. Terrence can’t see Danny from where she is. With a sigh, I move to Old Joe’s back door, careful not to draw attention.
Two women and one man trash the pizzeria, kicking tables and chairs onto the floor. They don’t seem in a rush to find anyone. I keep crouched behind the sales counter, next to Joe’s office. From my bag I take out a breathing mask and three Ping-Pong balls: Father’s homemade smoke bombs.
I light and toss one of them over the counter, then move quickly to another hiding spot: Joe’s administration office. With the mess they are making, they don’t hear the tiny explosion. The smoke slowly fills the room, but not enough. I roll another one and wait until it explodes too.
“The fuck?”
One of the soldiers, the one wearing a helmet decorated with a roaring lion, moves to inspect the broken ball, coughing with the smoke already reaching his knees. I roll another one, the ball stopping by his left boot. It explodes and he curses at the sting.
“There’s someone in here!” He screams, coughing shortly after. “Fuck.”
On purpose I open the office door, and move out of view, standing with my back at the wall. I hear footsteps and coughing. The instant the man walks inside the office, I throw my bag in his face and kick him in the stomach. He falls while pulling the trigger, a ring of bullets hitting the ceiling above us. I give him no time to recover and pound my feet against his chest, taking out my SIG Sauer.
He has bright green eyes and blond beard. I shoot him in the face.
“Lion? What the fuck is going on?” A woman outside the room yells. “Can’t see shit.”
Grunting, I lift the body and place the bag back over my good shoulder. He’s heavy as hell, but I just need to move him enough to block the door. The gunner is about to get in when I push the body off me and on to her. She loses her footing, falling backwards. I raise my gun while she kicks the body off her.
My bullet goes into her neck. Blood spurts out of the gaping wound and she vomits red. I shoot again when she tries to raise her gun at me.
“Panther, you alive? Yell if you are alive.”
“She’s not,” I answer instead.
My stupid gloating results in rapid fire, forcing me to duck. The bullets hit the wall behind me, plaster flying everywhere. I run from my position. The smoke provides me with some cover until I reach the clerk’s counter again.
With my free hand, I clean the sweat off my face. The bag is heavy and my shoulder is killing me. Two out, five to go. I need to finish this last woman fast; someone out there probably heard the shots already. I lean over to the side of the counter, trying to spot a sign of my target.
Between the fog and overturned tables, I see her feet moving.
“I’m over here,” I shout and wait.
She stops in order to pinpoint my location. Perfect. I raise my gun and shoot, hitting her left knee. She screams and grabs the nearest plastic chair so as not to fall. I shoot again: her right knee explodes, fabric opening wide open and blood coming out of the hole.
“Shit! Fuck!”
She’s out of commission for now, facing the floor and moaning in pain. I move with my head down to the front of the Pizzeria, ignoring the woman’s moans. Hunched, I survey the street outside. The two drivers are out of the truck, guns aimed at the pizzeria.
“What do you mean, you can’t see anyone in there?” The man with the red star shouts. “Get in there and scout the fucking area, dumbfuck.”
Mrs. Terrence starts to shoot. Everyone ducks and turns their backs to the store, searching for cover behind the cars. This is my chance. I calculate the closest driver and run, tackling him to the floor and shooting him point blank in the exposed face. Thanks to the loud bang of Mrs. Terrence shots, nobody notices. He’s a skinny one, and I quickly take his vest and put it on me, taking advantage of the cover fire.
“Fuck this! Bring out the clowns, Tomahawk,” the leader shouts, cowering behind his own truck, to my left.
Damn it. There’s still too many of them out there. Three and the infected. Trying hard not to be seen, I lean over the truck, just enough to spot the middle of the street. The man with the mullet and the one holding the infected shove Roger, Danny and my mother onto their knees, in clear view.
“I don’t know how many of you are there and I don’t care. If you keep fucking with me, I’m going to shoot the sheriff, the nerd and the soccer mom, here. Or feed them to my pet. I haven’t decided yet.”
Mrs. Terrence doesn’t reveal her position, but she stops shooting. I need to move. Fast.
“Okay, that’s an improvement. Now Mr. Sniper, show yourself. You have ten seconds.”
Shit.
“Two… Three….”
I spot the other driver, still crouched behind the back of the car. She’s has an apple in her helmet and seems too distracted with the sniper to see me coming.
“Five… Six….”
I drop the heavy bag behind, and move crouched in her direction.
“Eight… Nine….”
She turns her head around just in time to see me pounce on her. I press my gun against her neck and tell her to get up.
“H
ey, you!” I scream at their leader. “Drop your weapon. Or she dies.”
“Let me guess, you're the rescue team?” Mullet man turns in my direction with a smirk. “Interesting.”
My gaze locks on Roger’s bruised face; he stares at me with wide eyes. “Drop it now,” I repeat the threat.
He yawns and raises his weapon. A shot rings. The woman’s body goes limp and something slimy and sticky hits me in the chest: her blood and guts. I get down to avoid the rest of his clip. Out of breath, I close my eyes for a second, trying hard to calm down. He knows my position now and proved he’s more than willing to kill anyone to get what he wants.
The question is: what the hell does he want?
“See? That’s how you deal with hostages,” he raises his voice. “Now, you there, you have two options. You can join the party now, unarmed of course, and I promise my pet here won’t eat you. Or you can watch this zombie tear your friends apart limb by limb. Both ways I get to enjoy the view. Dinner and a show, that’s living, am I right?”
“What you want with us? Why are you doing this?” I yell, hoping against hope that Mrs. Terrence has moved to safety.
“Willing to negotiate now, huh? How cute.” He cracks a hoarse laugh. “Takes a special kind of person to come here alone, without a plan or backup, and demand things. Hey, you may not have many brains, but you more than compensate that with guts.”
While he babbles, I move back to the body of the first driver and my weapon bag. “Just get to the point.”
“Sure thing, honey. I want the Professor. Bald, British, carrying a metal briefcase. I want the guy and the hand luggage.”
I have no clue what he’s talking about, but the longer he talks, the better for me. “Why?”
“Because I made him a promise, you see. But he ran off before I could keep my word. And that’s just not fair. So, point me in his direction, and I’ll free your friends from the clutches of death.”
Quickly, I search for a full clip for my Sig. “That’s nice of you, but I have no clue where this guy is.” I reload the gun. “So how about you just leave and we call it quits.”
Those Who Remain (Book 2) Page 5
