I had killed two men that day, bringing my total murder count to three. Was I turning into a monster like Fish? I had sworn that I wouldn’t, but it seemed circumstances didn’t leave much of a choice. Besides, I had asked for even worse than that by pressing the Major to attack the Bogdon Mill.
I started to question my intentions. I wanted to do that ‘right’ thing, but what was the ‘right’ thing? Cecil was labeled as an evil person, but was he really? He killed a few of our people in his quest for revenge after we had killed his brother. He blamed us for the deaths of everyone in his group of survivors. In a troublesome and roundabout way, he was right.
Were the Bogdons any different? Were they just doing what they had to do to survive? I remembered Enrique and I picking up the man I had shot in the back of the head and tossing him into the ditch. Was he just a guy doing what he had to do?
I remembered the cell phone in my pocket. Digging into my trousers, I pulled out the black device. It had dried mud on it and the power was off. I decided to turn it on and was surprised when it powered up with seventy-five percent battery life.
There wasn’t a code to unlock it and out of curiosity, I started to scan through the pictures.
My heart dropped.
The first few pictures were of a man, woman and a teenage girl somewhere in a city. They were all kneeling, surrounded by people in uniform. People like the man I killed, pretending to be soldiers coming out to aid those in need.
The next image showed the man on the ground and a large man in a camouflage uniform standing over him, smiling. He was holding an M4 rifle whose buttstock was dripping with blood. The man on the ground had part of his head caved in and his jaw was slack. Either he was unconscious or dead.
My chest started to burn as I continued to scroll through the pictures. What they did to the woman and girl was inhuman. The first video came and I began to get angry. My head flushed with heat as each picture or video was worse than the one before it. More people, more victims. It was as if the apocalypse released the worst of what man was capable of.
And we let them go. We let them live. Like Chad, they were cataloging their lives after the Awakening. Chad did it to show he wasn’t just a criminal. These men were doing it for the sake of having trophies.
Subsequent pictures showed the miscreants had left the city and moved to the Bogdon Mill. It was then that I recognized one of their victims. Sierra Taylor looked much like her picture I saw in the Taylor home. Bright red hair, like her mother’s, flowed past her shoulder blades. Her naked, pale skin was bruised around her arms in the freeze frame of the video.
I resisted the urge to turn the phone off and forced myself to hit play. I stopped it after the second man began to have his way with her. I couldn’t bear to watch another session. Tears flowed freely down my face. They were not tears of sorrow, but of pure, unbridled anger.
A chuckle brought me back to reality. I glared at my companions. Fish and Doctor Tripp were discussing, of all things, the education system.
I couldn’t listen to another word. I had to get away, but there was nowhere to go. Big Red was the furthest from their round table and I decided to get as far away as I was allowed. I exited the F350 and walked toward the fire engine.
“I’m sorry, but education is not brainwashing. Maybe if you took the time to read a book, you might feel differently,” Doctor Tripp said to Fish as I walked past them.
Were they serious? Everything I had been mulling over for the past week surfaced in my thoughts. We were on the brink of extinction and this was their topic?
I don’t know how it happened, but I started laughing. It wasn’t funny, but I think I was starting to lose it.
“What’s so funny, kid?” Fish asked as I walked past them. I felt all their eyes on my back as they fell silent.
“Kid?” Fish repeated.
“You’re funny,” I whispered.
“What was that?”
“I said, you’re funny,” I growled, turning slowly around. “All of you are funny.”
“I don’t get it,” Pittman chuckled.
“No,” I said, letting the anger take control. “No, you wouldn’t ‘get it’. You guys are too busy arguing over shit that doesn’t matter anymore.”
“We’re just having a friendly debate,” Doctor Tripp chided. “Some educated, some not so much.”
“Now listen here, Doc—” Fish began, but I sharply cut him off.
“Are you listening to yourselves?” I barked. “We’re sitting here, on the edge of annihilation, and you’re talking politics? What in the hell is wrong with you?”
Fish stood, a dangerous look in his eyes. “Now watch it, kid. We’re just making good of a crap situation. None of us are taking it seriously.”
I laughed again. “Seriously? You know what we should start taking seriously? This joke of a mission,” I said, eyeing the Major.
“I hardly call this a joke,” Dobson returned, a touch of indignation in his voice.
“Really?” I asked. “We’re crossing the country to save humanity, right?”
“That’s right,” he nodded.
“Okay, then why are we letting the worst of it kill the best of us?” I hit play on the cell phone and tossed it down on the ground between the lot of them.
Screams of pain, cries of mercy, and cackles of evil laughter spewed from the tiny speaker. Most of them took a step forward to look at the screen as Fish picked up the cell phone from the ground.
My Pandora’s Box had opened, and I continued my tirade as they all watched the small screen in shock.
“That’s Sierra Taylor, Susie and Richard’s daughter. Those are the men from the Bogdon Mill. Yeah,” I chuckled mockingly, “we’re saving humanity all right. By the time we make it to Hoover Dam and the good Doctor here magics up a vaccine, what will we have saved? These bastards? Other scum like them? All the while the good people, like the Taylors, are raped and murdered. Smart people, you know, the ones that can bring society back? They will be gone! Dead!”
I took a breath. They all stared at me, as the video played on and on and I flushed my own guilt out of my system.
“What are we going to do when we run out of ammo? How long will that be? A year? Maybe two? What happens when we lose our edge over the scabs? I’ve fought them hand to hand. You can’t win. None of us can win. We will make a vaccine for the wicked and deplorable. Will they be farming the lands? Will they make gunpowder or medicines or build walls? If we’re lucky, we’ll be their slaves. But in all reality, we will all fall because we let filth like that live.”
I was flustered, but with each word, my resolve strengthened and my fury gave way to determination. No one spoke. No one interrupted, either silenced by my will or by their own guilty consciences. I usually avoided conflict, and I think most of them were in shock at my brazen outburst.
I eyed each of them as I went on.
“I don’t care why you came on this journey. If it was because you’re my friend, you want to do the right thing, you wanted adventure, or if it’s to save your own family.” My eyes rested on DJ with those last words. His face was expressionless, until a cry from the cell phone caught his attention. Sadness crept over him as he gazed down to the ground. “I will tell you why I came. I came to save the human race.”
I paused, gathering my thoughts.
“My father told me once… and…and I don’t remember who he was quoting, but he said that the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. I look around here and see good men and women who stayed silent while I fought to do something,” I glared at Campbell. He frowned and I could see the shame on his face.
“Turn that off,” Dobson ordered quietly. Fish, who had long ago stopped watching what was happening on the screen, stopped the video.
The Major seemed to contemplate the situation for a moment, and then sighed in defeat.
“You’re…you’re right, Christian,” he said after a few seconds. “But what do we do
now? We can’t—”
“I know we can’t go back!” I said angrily. “I’m not an idiot. You always talk to me like I’m some moron who doesn’t know anything. I know there is a chance the Bogdons sent people after us. I know that if they haven’t killed all the farmers in retribution already, that they’ve definitely locked down their area tight. Surprise is gone. We gave it up when we abandoned those people.”
Dobson looked at me with contrition. “Then what are you asking us to do?”
“I’m not asking you anything,” I said with confidence I’d never felt before. “I’m telling you, if we come across something like this again, or people in need, I am helping them. You can be with me or sit on the Goddamn sidelines, but I will do the right thing. I don’t care what you say.”
I was done. Out of energy and feeling tired, I turned and walked to Big Red, calling Boomer as I did so. The canine jumped to his feet and followed me into the fire truck.
No one spoke or tried to stop me. I really didn’t care. I had nothing left in me.
It was as if a giant weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Weariness crept over me as Boomer and I snuggled in the back seat of the fire truck. I thought I would sleep soundly, but the nightmares came anyway.
CHAPTER 8
Danger Ahead
August 9th Morning
I woke with a start.
“Trinity…” I whispered sluggishly.
I had nightmares of the rape of Sierra Taylor that night, only it wasn’t the red-headed daughter of Susie. When the broken and naked body was rolled over, she wore the face of my sister.
Boomer, who was startled by my consternation, stood up on the seat and licked my face. The sloppy lashes of his tongue quickly wiped away the sleep and the apprehension of my nightmare.
“Okay, okay, boy,” I said.
Glancing outside, I noticed everyone was already up and starting to dismantle the camp. No one had woken me. A quick glimpse at the empty sky told me it was at least 8 AM.
“Let’s go,” I told Boomer as I opened the door. My kidneys were screaming at me to be relieved, and I walked Boomer over to where they had already broken down part of the fencing.
The surrounding island was empty of trees, the only obstacles being the three small buildings controlling the lock and a couple of cars with flattened tires.
Modesty was pretty much lost, even around the women. After I had walked twenty paces, I began to relieve myself. Boomer did the same after galloping a couple dozen feet in front of me.
“Edmund Burke,” Fish gruffly said as he came up next to me.
“I’m sorry?” I asked as he stood a few feet to the side and used the bathroom himself.
“’The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing,’” he quoted. “Edmund Burke said that, or at least, that’s the rumor. No one really knows.”
I turned from him and nodded.
“At least I know you were listening to me,” I said stoically.
“Believe it or not, kid, I always listen to you. Just don’t like much of what you say.”
I glared at him, but saw that he was smirking.
“That, I believe,” I chuckled as I finished up.
Fish did the same and turned to face me.
“De oppresso liber,” he quoted in Latin.
I gave him a confused look. “What does that mean?”
“To liberate the oppressed,” he said. “It’s the Special Forces’ motto. I forgot about that until last night.”
“All the special forces?” I asked with a tilt of my head. In my mind, I was thinking about the S.E.A.Ls, Delta Force and even the PJ’s.
It was his turn to laugh.
“Heh, there are special forces, and then there are Special Forces. When I say it, I’m talking about the Green Berets. We never called ourselves that, really. It’s a Hollywood thing.”
I smiled. “You mean all of you guys aren’t Rambo or John Wayne?”
He grabbed me by my arm and pushed me back toward the trucks.
“The fact that you know who John Wayne is just bumped your man card up a notch. But no, we’re not like that. Well, most aren’t,” he said with a wink.
We shared a brief laugh as we approached the rear of Big Red.
He stopped and turned to me again.
“I mean it kid, thanks,” he said, almost reluctantly.
“I…I don’t remember you saying ‘thanks’ back there.”
“And you won’t hear me say it again,” he sneered.
We finished packing up our camp. Most people either avoided me or gave courteous nods of greeting as we disassembled the fencing. None were angry with me, just standoffish. I wanted to apologize for the way I had talked to them the night before until I saw Dobson push the cell phone in his pocket. The sight of the device brought back the images and the anger.
I took a few minutes to go check on Jenna before we left. She was awake and in good spirits.
Campbell was giving Daniel directions on how to drive the CDC bus. He quickly picked up on the lessons, having driven large ambulances in the past. The Captain would be controlling the drones to scout ahead. We were going to take advantage of the clear skies while we could.
Karina, to Pittman’s dislike, would assist in the bus, which put Pittman on permanent turret duty on Big Red.
By 9 AM, we were back on Route 40, heading west. The goal was to hit Route 98 heading north and ride it until we came to Fanning Springs. The small town had the first bridge on the western side of Florida that crossed the famous Suwannee River. Unfortunately, Route 98 was a major road and the potential for running into crammed roadways was high.
Only myself, Boomer, Major Dobson, and DJ rode in the cab of Big Red. Conversation was minimal.
DJ shared a workable plan to mount the M240 machinegun onto the fire engine’s turret. He said he had most of the equipment and they would only have to look for a few things along the way.
Route 98 turned out to be every bit the problem we had feared. Besides the numerous traffic jams we had to circumvent, we were accosted by large groups of zombies, forcing Big Red to take the lead to mow down the hordes.
We made bad time over the next three days, barely moving seventy miles. On the second night, we had to quickly evacuate our camp as over two hundred zombies poured out of the woods. We left half our fencing behind, forcing us to reorganize our camp set up.
By the end of the third day, we were only one mile away from our target destination of Fanning Springs.
We pulled into an auto garage just on the outskirts of the town three hours before nightfall. Dobson did not want to attempt to cross the bridge without a detailed recon first.
“We could probably replace some of our fencing,” DJ noted as we pulled in.
The three-bay garage was surrounded by an eight-foot-tall fence with a single strand of barbed wire running along the top. Parts of the fence had fallen and several zombies were roaming the grounds under nearby shading from the buildings and trees.
All of the garage doors on the building were closed except the middle one.
Pittman began picking the dead off as we stopped. Any lumbering zombies approaching our trucks were put down before they were within ten feet of our vehicles.
Dobson grabbed the mic and pressed the transmit button.
“Park the vehicles near the open garage door. Fish, Preacher, and Enrique, clear the building while we secure the perimeter.”
“Roger that,” Fish replied over the speaker.
We set up our camp as Fish and his crew cleared the building. They eliminated another four zombies inside the garage while we put down an additional sixteen that approached the garage, fascinated by the noise and commotion of setting up our fencing. Their interest died as Karina, Campbell, Pittman and I took them out with our suppressed weapons.
“This town is bigger than the numbers we’ve seen,” Dobson commented as Enrique and Karina prepared our dinner for the night.
“Yeah,” Campbell agreed. “I think when the sun goes down, we should send out Ghost and scout the area. Maybe we can get a look at that bridge.”
“Ghost” was the name we gave the drone with night vision. The two with normal cameras were dubbed Eagle One and Eagle Two.
“I concur, Captain,” Dobson nodded.
I ate inside Big Red with Jenna, who was now up and about. Her arm hurt, but she was a tough, southern woman and wouldn’t put up with any coddling.
Preacher climbed into the front passenger seat and shut the door.
“How goes it, Preacher?” Jenna said as she swallowed the last of her rehydrated pasta noodles.
“Good, good. And you, ma’am?” he asked, spinning to face us.
“I swear, Preacher, you call me ma’am again…”
“It’s the good ole boy in me, Jenna, I swear,” Preacher chuckled. “You, Christian? How are you fairing?”
This was the first time Preacher had spoken to me since my outburst three nights before. In fact, most people, save Karina, Jenna, and occasionally Fish, hadn’t said more than a brief sentence to me since I lost my temper.
“I’m okay,” I replied, giving him a reassuring smile.
“Good,” he said softly. I knew he wanted to say more, but not in front of Jenna.
She must have sensed it, because she quickly excused herself.
“I’m gonna see if Karina has any more spaghetti. Need more food if I’m gonna heal up,” she said with a smile. After a quick kiss on the cheek, Jenna exited the fire truck and joined the others.
I turned my gaze to Preacher.
“I think what you said the other night was outstanding, Christian,” he said after a moment of silence.
“Really?” I said a little too sharply. “And you’re telling me this days later?”
Preacher glanced down at his lap. “I needed time. Time to search my soul, to get enlightenment. And…to ask for forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness?” I chuckled. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Preacher.”
“Didn’t I?” he said sourly. “I do not believe in killing my fellow man, Christian. Well, not unless I have no other choice. That is what I convinced myself of and that is why I didn’t come to your aid when you argued for us to attack the Bogdons. I…I was wrong. God sometimes puts these tests in front of us. What you said…well, I shouldn’t have just told you to keep being you. I should have stood next to you.”
The Hunt Chronicles (Volume 3): Crusade Page 13
