The Rise of Macon: A Zombie Novel (Macon Saga Book 2)

by Micah Gurley

  Kyle didn't register the slight to him, his mind occupied with crossing to the fort. "Okay, let's make as little noise as possible, and hope we're not spotted by the wrong people crossing."

  Kyle led, staying low to the ground as he ran, though he realized halfway it was unnecessary. Old habits. He jogged quietly, feet close to the ground, hands holding his rifle close to his body to keep from bouncing and making noise. He held his eyes forward, though he kept taking quick glances down to make sure he didn't step on branches or a random hole in the ground.

  Kyle reached the moat moments before James and Grace, and took a knee, looking up at the fort looming above them. They all felt the tension of being this close, this exposed to whatever waited inside. Being this close they heard noises, though from who they couldn't tell. The needed to hurry.

  Kyle took a last look up at the inner walls of the fort, took off his rifle and sword, held out the white rope to James, and waited as James threw one end of the rope into the moat.

  With a nod from James, Kyle backed over the edge, his body scrapping the rough bricks. He grabbed the thick rope James had one end of, and wrapped it around his arm. He didn't need to go far, but didn't want to risk an injury on jumping. Nor could his ribs handle the violent landing.

  Seconds later he was down and motioned for Grace to go, who glided down as if floating. She joined Kyle and moved to the side as Kyle carefully caught the rifle that James passed him. Kyle made sure to bring the rifle down in a motion that kept it from making a slapping sound on his hand. His sword, still in its scabbard came next, followed by James and Graces two rifles. The end of the rope followed.

  Kyle watched as James moved over the edge, his dangling legs searching for purchase, as he slowly lowered himself farther, until his whole body hung from his fingers, clutching the sides.

  "Straight down," whispered Kyle as loudly as he dared. He took position a step away from where James would land in case he fell backwards. But before he gave it another thought, the agile form of James landed with a thump, his knees folding to take the weight of his fall.

  "You good?" asked Kyle quietly.

  "Good."

  Kyle slung his rifle, scanning the top of the wall, while James and Grace got situated. A slap on the shoulder let him know they were ready. All three of them sprinted across the twenty five feet expanse of dried grass and the burnt remains of diseased. They reached the inner wall, flattening themselves and taking a breath at reaching safety, if only for a minute. Their exposure of the last fifteen minutes had them feeling vulnerable, their bodies surging with adrenaline, their nerves rattled.

  They calmed themselves, taking deep breathes. Kyle gave a reassuring smile to Grace, hoping to present confidence. He didn't bother with James, the man never seemed to rattle.

  Along the inner walls of the fort, six feet from the bottom of the moat, were a line of holes, which passed for windows. Originally used to fire at invaders from within the walls, they were now barred with steel rods like a prison. It was these windows they needed to check. They jumped into the moat on the far left of the drawbridge, close to the majority of encasements they were using as rooms. They would check there first.

  Kyle came to the first window, barely tall enough to see in. It was a room they hadn't starting using yet, and it lay empty and deserted. Kyle dropped his head, nodding in the direction of the next window. They had to move closer to the drawbridge, to the rooms being used.

  James reached the next window and slowly brought his head up in the bottom corner, keeping his face mostly hidden. Kyle saw him squint, then his eyebrows rose in question. He lowered his head and motioned for Kyle to take a look.

  He did. The room, the encasement he and James shared with Abe, was empty, but he could see through the open door to the courtyard beyond. He could make out movement, but barely. He needed a better line of sight. He heard noises, the loudest being a bellow of a laughter that rolled through the fort. It wasn't a friendly laugh and wasn't a laugh Kyle knew.

  Kyle nodded to the other two, then moved to the next window. This room was the former recreation for Civil War officers, recently taken over by Patrick's family. Kyle reached the window first, put his hand up to indicate he would take a look then, moving slow, brought his eyes above the lip of the ledge to see into the room. He froze. Standing in the doorframe of the room, looking out, was a man Kyle didn't know. Worse, he had a gun in his hand, which dangled at his side. Pressed against the wall, huddled on the floor, were Patrick's kids. They both had puffy eyes and were clearly scared of the man who was now laughing at something in the courtyard.

  Kyle reigned in his anger and looked past the man into the courtyard. He could make out people standing in a row. No, not standing. They had their hands tied behind their back. Somehow, they'd been captured. Someone walked along the row of his friends, talking to them, then suddenly he hit someone across the face and Kyle heard a new round of threats, which caused the rolling laughter of another, this man unseen by Kyle.

  Kyle took another minute, forcing himself to capture the moment in his mind, to gain any details they would need. He didn't want to risk looking again. Satisfied, he ducked down and made his way back to James and Grace.

  "What's going on?" she asked, "we heard the laughing. Is that good?"

  "Wrong people laughing and for the wrong reasons," said Kyle and explained the situation to the two of them.

  Grace steamed at the treatment of the children, while James' expression reflected flint, so no change really. Options. They needed options, but as Kyle reviewed everything he saw, everything he knew about the fort, he came back down to the only option they had. They needed to climb the wall.

  "But how can you climb it?" asked Grace, looking up at the wall after Kyle told them what needed to be done. "It's so high and straight up."

  "The front gate, it's the only option. It's ten feet up to the drawbridge and we can reach that. Then another fifteen feet up after that. We'll make it work." Kyle looked at James. "One of us will have to deal with the guy holding the kids, then the other one will have to snipe the others."

  "I'll climb," said James.

  "I think I'd better do it," said Kyle, knowing James would volunteer, but for something like this, he wanted to do it himself.

  "You can't climb anything Kyle," Grace whispered forcefully, pointing at his ribs.

  "I can climb it."

  "No," she said. "I'll deal with the man holding the kids, then you can both climb the wall. I think it'll take two of you."

  Kyle turned his hardening features on her. "Grace, what we have to do-"

  "I know what needs to be done Kyle, and I can do it."

  Kyle didn't answer. He didn't want her to take a life, but he knew it was the best option and he doubted if he could stop her without a fight. It was her choice, not his.

  "Okay, but go with us to the front gate, so you can see our progress, then when we make it to the top, give us five minutes before you take him out."

  She agreed and they moved towards the front gate, walking through the burned remains of hundreds of diseased they'd dispatched recently.

  Reaching the front gate, Kyle looked up, took a breath and steeled himself for what they had to do. Kyle, with the rope slung across his body, squatted in front of the wall, his arms locked straight on his knees, butt sticking in the air. He straightened his back and tightened his body to take James' weight.

  James didn't hesitate. He stepped on Kyle's thigh, his large black boot crushing it, then moved onto his back. Kyle, head down, focused on keeping his body steady as the James climbed on him like a bumbling gorilla. Kyle grunted as James put his weight on his shoulders. His knees and thighs shook from the weight of his friend. He didn't have to wait long as James reached up and grabbed the ledge that was the bottom of the gate. James latched on with his second hand and, with sheer muscles, pulled himself up on the narrow ledge.

  There used to be an eight foot wide draw bridge that spanned the gate, but in an effort t
o pull the draw bridge up, Kyle had Eric chop it down. Only two foot wide now, James stood in the empty space, with a closed wooden door behind him.

  Kyle leaned up, his body protesting as he came out of the position it was squashed into. He threw the rope up to James, who caught it and secured it around his shoulders.

  "Here we go, wait until we get up to the top before you head back, then five minutes," Kyle said to Grace.

  "I remember," said Grace, touching his arm. "Be careful."

  "I didn't know you cared," said Kyle with a smile.

  "We don't have time to talk about all the things you don't know, Kyle. Go."

  Kyle smiled, looked up, and started to climb. His ribs immediately protested the pulling and jostling. The rope wasn't thin, but the cold of the day and Kyle's weekend body made grabbing the rope and pulling himself up more difficult than it normally would have been.

  "I got you, just walk up the wall," whispered James, looking down. He didn't seem to be straining at all.

  Kyle didn't reply, just put his boot against the rough brick wall and waited. He felt the pull of the rope, and he allowed it to lift him the next few feet up the wall. James gave him a hand over the edge, and he leaned back against the medieval thick door that barred invaders from entering Macon.

  "Did you feel that?" Kyle asked quietly, turning around.

  "What?"

  "When I leaned on the door, I felt it move a little."

  Kyle knew he felt it move, but there is no way Eric wouldn't have locked up. He pushed the thick door and it moved again. Hope swelled in Kyle's chest. Could it be?

  "Help me push," commanded Kyle, "but we can't make any noise or big movements."

  They pushed the gate near the middle where it met its twin on the other side. The door moved in an inch. Kyle couldn't believe it, Eric forgot to bolt the door from the inside. No, not Eric. Edmund probably. A serious security issue, but a gift from heaven right now. They wouldn't have to climb the wall now.

  Kyle bent down and talked as loud as he dared to Grace, "We can go through here. Go back and give us five minutes."

  She gave him a thumbs up and took off, disappearing around the curvature of the moat.

  "Okay," Kyle said, talking close to James' ear. "When we make it through there, we wait for the shot and then take out whoever we need to. Play it by ear."

  It was a terrible plan. Kyle knew it, but he'd heard more than one grunt of pain and wasn't willing to wait any longer. They had surprise on their side, he counted on it to be enough.

  Side by side, they pushed the door, every squeak causing them to freeze. Uninterrupted noises still came from inside the courtyard: talking, course laughing and the smack of someone being beaten. The door opened six inches before they stopped pushing. Kyle knew he'd never make it thought there with all his equipment on, so he stripped his gun belt and took off his rifle.

  Handing his equipment to James, he squeezed through the opening, taking his time and going slow. The inside of the gate led to a fifteen foot long Sally Port. Basically, a big tunnel. Kyle moved quickly in the dark tunnel, taking his things back from James, then taking James' gun belt and rifle and pushing himself against the wall, where the shadows were darkest.

  The tension had Kyle ready to spring forward, ready to have this over, ready to make sure his brother was safe. He took a moment to question his reason for his decision making and actions. He decided he'd do it for any of his friends, but he couldn't overlook the fact that his brother was in there.

  A loud creak sounded, and it brought his attention back to James and the gate faster than whiplash. James, too big for the opening, had moved it another inch to get through and this time, the creak was loud.

  Kyle held his hand up and dropped further into the shadow. He raised his rifle, waiting. Nothing. They hadn't heard the noise, or chose to ignore it. No sound of running or yells of an intruder came from the courtyard. Lucky again, maybe this would go down without a hitch. Kyle gave a nod to James, who moved over to him, reclaiming his rifle and gun belt.

  Quietly, moving next to the wall, they went down the tunnel. The scene in the courtyard becoming clearer as they saw more of it. There looked to be only three of them in total. Bikers. But there were also bikers tied up, one next to Abe, who had taken a major beating.

  Kyle and James moved closer to the end of the tunnel, both ready with their rifles, waiting for Grace to get the ball rolling.

  In the end, one of his tied up friends started things off. Someone had seen them lurking in the shadows of the wall, and reacted. The smaller bald man had seen the euphoric expression that didn't belong and turned to find two armed men directly behind him. A shot saved them.

  Instinctively, both James and Kyle looked towards the directions of the shot. The biker, whom Kyle had seen earlier, flopped to the ground, a bloody hole through his neck.

  Good shot.

  Kyle turned back to find the bald biker who'd seen them dart around his brother, hiding his form competently. Kyle cursed at his decision to lose his objective in the middle of an operation. The man took advantage and now had cover. His brother. Worse, the bald man put a silver blade right next to his brother's side, almost hiding his head in the process. Everyone froze.

  Kyle felt James to the left of him, while also to his left, in front of James, was the other biker. A hair covered goliath who only carried a ferocious looking knife and didn't seem to be in the least frightened at the turn of events. James could deal with that, he needed to get the bald coward.

  Kyle dropped to his knee to better support his firing position, not more than twenty feet from the line where his friends were tied up at. He aimed his rifle slightly to the left of his brother, whom Kyle refused to look at, not wanting to lose focus.

  Kyle called out, "It's over. Drop your weapons and come out." It seemed clichéd even to his own ears, but it was tried and true.

  "You must be the brother, the academic. I admit, I pictured you a little differently in my head. As to dropping our weapons, I'm not sure that's to our advantage."

  "Drop them now and I promise … what the hell? "While not taking his eyes from Dave a second time, Kyle noticed James walking towards the other biker and he didn't think he was carrying his rifle anymore.

  ***

  James listened to Kyle telling the small biker to drop his guns and almost snorted in amusement at the line. He'd heard the line so many times growing up, it almost seemed like a homecoming. No. These two weren't going to just give up. James eyed the man in front of him. He'd never had to deal with the biker type before, not many of them in the hood, but if there seemed to be a nemeses for him, it was this guy. A towering, white, ignorant biker.

  He could just shoot the guy, but then the other one would knife Abe. He didn't doubt that for a minute, but what if the man thought he had a chance to survive or better yet, win. It would give Kyle more time to take him out.

  While thinking through the options, the man sneered at him, his black stained teeth smiling through the bush of his beard. The old James never would have allowed someone to look at him like that. Pure disrespect. James made a decision and didn't consider it a bad one, though Kyle might not be happy with him later. Kyle needed another option, one where the other man would stall, and didn't knife Abe. He would deal with his man now, the way he used to deal with those who didn't know their place.

  While keeping his eyes on the man in front of him, James let his rifle fall to the ground. He unbuckled his gun belt and hip latch and let it join the rifle. He reached around to his back and pulled out his black knife from its sheath. The knife didn't shine in the light like the one the biker carried, but it moved like a part of James' arm.

  James walked forward, his body low, arms to his side and slightly in front of him. The biker gave a booming laugh and raised his own knife, more of a small machete, and charged James in an intimidating show of power.

  James moved to the right, and easily ducked beneath the clumsy swing of the biker's knife. Before
the biker had time to turn, James slashed his knife across the man's back, starting from his shoulder and cutting a gash six inches long. The biker gave a growl and did a violent back swing with his knife, only to find James a step away, standing arms by his side again, a militant set to his face.

  The biker advanced again, slower this time, more respectful of James' speed. James kept himself at an angle that kept him away from the biker's knife hand. They circled each other a few times, both waiting for the time to attack.

  James tired of the wait and dashed into the opening which existed between them. The biker, seeing his opportunity, struck straight out with his knife, hoping to impale the cocky black man.

  James didn't push forward with his feint attack, but dropped to the right once more as the biker's blade stuck air. This time, James reversed his blade and slashed the back of biker's calf, cutting straight through fat, muscle and cartilage. The biker didn't have time to be surprised, as pain tore through his leg. He picked the leg up, moving to pivot around, but dropped to the ground when his leg gave out from under him.

  The biker fell like a potato. James didn't wait. He stepped forward and kicked the biker with the tip of his steeltoed boot, the kick crushing his skull like an egg shell. He didn't move again.

  ***

  Dave, seeing the fight start, knew he needed to use the distraction to get his gun, which laid on the ground a few feet away. If he could reach it and take out the kid's brother, he'd have no problem turning it on the black knife wielder.

  Dave took his shot and darted out from behind Abe's back. It didn't work. Kyle had fought the temptation to watch the fight, but turned his head slightly so the other man thought he was. He saw the biker make his move and Kyle pulled the trigger as soon as he had a shot.

  The bullet went through the side of Dave's right shoulder, but didn't cause the biker to drop or spin. Dave, knowing he couldn't stop, dropped to the ground and lunged for the handgun only feet from him. Kyle pulled the trigger three more times, each shot finding the target at such close range. He watched as the biker slumped to the ground, his bald head resting on the ground, face turned down.