The Hunt Chronicles (Volume 3): Crusade

by Demers, J. D.

  The gathering broke and we each went off to take care of chores and duties around the house.

  I spent time with Jenna and Karina on the roof. Jenna was irritated that she had gotten hurt, blaming herself for dropping her rifle and not having a backup sidearm. Karina was pissed that Preacher threw her into the Stryker.

  I tried to reassure them. I took a page from Fish’s book and told them that if things had been different, it may not have gone our way. As it was, everyone was still alive. I conveniently left out Trinity’s ‘friends’. A little heartless, but they were not exactly boy scouts.

  After I left the roof, I stopped by Trinity’s room. She was handcuffed to the wall and sleeping restlessly on a pile of blankets. Her restraints were not solely due to the Captain and Fish not trusting her. They needed definitive proof that she would not change into a scab and carried the same immunity I did. I argued that her scars should be proof enough, but was overruled by Doctor Tripp. There was also the concern that, even though she and I may be immune, we may become zombies after we died. Although Trinity was doing fairly well physically, there could still be an unseen injury that would claim her life as she slept.

  I watched her chest rise and fall, shuddering with spasms of pain even as she slept. Doctor Tripp had prescribed her a heavy dose of pain meds which caused her to pass out. But the pain was still there.

  I began to think about my father as I observed her. What he had done to her was revolting. His mind had been shattered with grief over what my mother had turned into, and Trinity paid the price both physically and mentally. She would never be the same, just as Fish had predicted.

  But who would be? I knew my father would never be the same either. There was, however, a chance he may come back to some form of reality. Maybe Doctor Tripp could tell him about the virus, or perhaps Preacher could spin his words of insight and reason.

  To do that, I would first have to get my father to trust me.

  I went back down to the ground floor, searching for Fish.

  When I approached the kitchen, I heard Doctor Tripp…giggling?

  I had only known her for a short time, but had never heard her “giggle”.

  I crept closer to the doorway. As if her giggling wasn’t enough, I heard someone else give a light-hearted, friendly laugh. It was a soothing and inviting laugh, but I couldn’t place who it belonged to.

  I peered around the corner and, for a second, I was speechless. It was Fish. No wonder I couldn’t recognize the other person. Fish had never given a friendly laugh since I knew him, and probably not much before that.

  The two were sitting at the small kitchen table, leaning in close and softly talking to one another. I retracted, and then reversed, stopping myself from laughing.

  I took a second to calm down, being careful to be quiet. Deciding I did not want to interrupt their moment without at least giving them time to compose themselves, I took a few steps back and called out.

  “Fish?” I said from further down the hallway. “Fish?”

  I rounded into the kitchen and saw the two, stone-faced and sitting back and away from each other. I feigned a cough to suppress a smile.

  “What is it?” Fish asked, openly annoyed.

  I grew serious, remembering the reason I had sought him out.

  “I…” I paused, looking between the two. “I wanted to talk to you… Talk about my father.”

  Fish let out a sigh as he leaned back in his chair.

  “Kid…”

  “Hear me out,” I pressed. “I know you don’t like the idea for a few reasons, but,” I glanced at Doctor Tripp, “we have an opportunity to have three immune people. Doctor, isn’t that worth a second try?”

  Preacher walked in behind me and was about to say something. He stopped, seeing that we were already having a somewhat intense discussion.

  “Having your father would be ideal,” Doctor Tripp admitted. “Especially after what we found at his house.”

  “See—” I began, but then stopped. I had completely forgot that they said they found something about our heritage. If it was conclusive or not, I didn’t know. “What did you find?”

  “Your ancestry,” she replied with a smile. “Well, rather, your relatives on your father’s side.”

  I grabbed another chair and sat between Fish and the Doctor. Preacher, interested in our conversation, came and stood on the other side of the table.

  “What about my relatives?”

  “You never told me much about your family line,” she stated. “I figured that maybe there was something in your house that would provide some information.”

  “Honestly, Doctor, I don’t know much. Not because my father never told me, but I never really cared. Never listened.”

  “I wish you would have, particularly pertaining to your father’s mother. Truthfully, it doesn’t make a big difference other than knowing that, somewhere out there, there may be others that are immune.”

  “Others? How? My family isn’t that big. In fact, my grandmother was an only child.”

  “Yes, true. But that’s not what’s important. Judging by what we found, your great grandfather, on your father’s side, comes from England. More importantly, he was from the northern coast, near the Scottish border. I found an old photo of him revisiting his home town years after he had immigrated to the US.”

  “I don’t get it,” I frowned.

  Doctor Tripp leaned forward.

  “Everything I’m about to say is completely speculative. But with few ways to research these days, I have no choice but to make an unsubstantiated but educated inference as to why your family is immune.”

  “In other words,” Fish smirked, “she’s guessing.”

  “I got that,” I shot an annoyed look at Fish. He raised his hands defensively as Doctor Tripp continued.

  “Your grandfather is from the same area where the Monostrovis Virus first appeared a couple of centuries ago. I told you about it when we first met, and how it was believed to have devastated a small village. I think your grandfather’s bloodline contains a survivor of that outbreak. It would make sense. An immunity carried down over the years by direct descendants.”

  “I’m sorry, Doc, but that seems a little far-fetched,” Fish said, giving an unwanted opinion.

  “Perhaps,” Doctor Tripp conceded, “but not out of the realm of possibility. Look, it wouldn’t be the first time something like this has happened. There is a little known pathogen called Toscana Virus that has been the cause of thousands of deaths over the centuries. Epidemiological research pinpointed a small island off the coast of Italy called Ustica as ground zero for the origin of the virus. A millennium ago, before the Black Plague, this virus caused its own smaller pandemic in that region. In fact, it was believed that anyone who so much as set foot on the island would succumb to the plague and die. That was probably true for unlucky visitors to the island. But the indigenous population was relatively unaffected. They had built up an immunity to the virus and carried it down generation by generation. Later, their immunity helped create a vaccine.”

  “Doctor,” Preacher broke in, “that may be true and might be relevant, but the M Virus, according to you, has been altered and mutated by man. How could Christian’s immune system fight a virus that is a shadow of what it used to be?”

  Doctor Tripp shrugged. “I’m not saying I have all the answers, but this is what makes sense, and the only logical conclusion I can come up with. Besides, the M Virus may still hold the DNA blueprints that tells the Hunt Family’s immune system how to attack and defeat it.”

  “So why does that mean there will be other people that are immune?” I asked. “I mean, I already know there isn’t much family on my father’s side.”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean there were no other people that survived in your ancestor’s village. It is completely possible that there are groups of immune people somewhere around England. Or, like your great grandfather, they may have immigrated and could be anywhere on the planet.”<
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  “Alright, Doc, let’s whittle this down to our little neck of the woods. How does this help us?” Fish asked.

  “Well…” Doctor Tripp trailed off. “I guess it doesn’t, really.”

  “Thanks!” Fish grumbled as he stood. “I’ll never get that fifteen minutes back.”

  Doctor Tripp glared at Fish. If her eyes were lasers, Fish would have melted before me.

  Fish began to leave. I stood and called out.

  “What about my father?”

  “Kid,” he said, partly turning to face me, “we just got our asses kicked. Enrique may die and we’re still recovering. Not to mention the fact that we burned through a thousand rounds and used up a lot of supplies. No more unnecessary risks.”

  I paused, considering my options. I wanted to bring up something, but was afraid to say it in front of Doctor Tripp. It made me sound crazy. But Fish, as much of an asshole as he was, would probably understand if he would just listen to me.

  “Fish…you don’t get it,” I said.

  “Oh, I do—”

  “No, you don’t!” I hissed. “It was my father who got me through those first few months. Maybe not in person, but in spirit. I…I don’t know how to explain it.”

  Fish squinted. I could see the squirrels running around in his head, but he came up empty.

  I took advantage of his hesitation.

  “Remember that time outside of Wagon Wheel, the pizzeria? I was going to run. I was going to leave you. But my father used to tell me to man up, that he didn’t raise someone to just give up and run away. I swear, his voice was as clear in my head as my own thoughts.”

  Fish stared at me awkwardly.

  “I can’t tell you how many times hearing him speak to me saved my life, or someone else’s. I…I owe it to him,” I said softly, and as much to myself as Fish.

  His face loosened for a second, but then grew stoic.

  “Kid, that man isn’t alive anymore. What’s left is nothing like the man who raised you. I wish you could just get that through your thick skull.”

  I gritted my teeth, openly showing my anger toward Fish. It didn’t seem to affect him.

  “What if I take it to the Captain?”

  Fish smirked and shook his head.

  “Go ahead, kid. But he and I have talked about it already. He knows you want to go after your father. We all do. We all wish it would be unicorns and rainbows. But it’s not going to be and we’re not going to risk one more life on a fool’s run.”

  Fish, without waiting for a retort, walked out of the kitchen.

  I sucked in a deep breath and released it. Slowly, I turned to face Doctor Tripp and Preacher.

  “Doctor?” I asked, almost pleading.

  Doctor Tripp shook her head.

  “You’re right, it would be beneficial to have as many people that are immune to the virus as possible. But I have to agree with Captain Campbell and Fish. It just isn’t worth the risk.”

  She stood up and grimaced. “I’m sorry, Christian. We do have Trinity. You’re going to have to settle for that.”

  She walked out.

  Preacher lifted his hand and rested it on my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  I looked up at him. His dark face showed clear lines of sympathy.

  “You agree with them?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, Christian. A part of me says they’re right. We have wounded. Some severely so, including your sister. Another part says…well, you have some unfinished business.”

  I searched his face, looking for an answer. But there wasn’t one. He either stood in the middle, or would not reveal his true thoughts.

  “That reminds me,” he said, giving me a small smile, “your sister is awake. She asked for you.”

  “She is?” I responded.

  I ran upstairs without thanking Preacher, excited to check on her condition.

  Barging through the door, I came to a sudden halt. DJ was standing over her with his arm in a sling and his other hand on his hip.

  Boomer and Leia were sprawled out near her. Boomer raised his head drunkenly as I entered.

  “DJ?” I asked, skeptical to see him near Trinity. DJ was no fan of my sister. Hell, he wasn’t a fan of me anymore.

  DJ swiveled, flinching with pain from the motion.

  “Hey Christian,” he said in a low, sorrowful voice.

  Trinity was lying down on a bed of blankets. She turned to look at me.

  “What’s going on?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Eh,” DJ grunted. “I guess it’s best you hear it, too.”

  I moved further into the room.

  “Hear what?”

  “Well,” he said with a hefty sigh, “I was here to apologize and…and thank your sister.”

  I could see the pain he was in, though I think it was more from his pride than his injured shoulder.

  “Really?” I said, amazed.

  “Yeah,” he shot back, his eyes darkening, “really.”

  He turned back to Trinity.

  “You jumped in that fight against Tikel and saved my ass.”

  Trinity painfully shrugged.

  “I didn’t…have much else…to do at…the time,” she said sarcastically. The strain and agony in her voice made my stomach turn.

  “Yeah, well, thank you,” he said uncomfortably.

  She coughed, cringing with agony.

  “No…problem,” she rasped, clenching her jaw as she spoke.

  “Yeah,” DJ nodded. “Alright then. You two, uh, have a good day.”

  He walked by me, giving a fleeting glance as he exited the room.

  I could tell how much it pained him to apologize. DJ had been misplacing his anger for a few weeks. I knew he was mad at himself for joining us on our quest. I had been the target of opportunity and when we found my sister, he sent some of that anger toward her.

  “I wasn’t…expecting that,” Trinity said between short breaths.

  “Me neither,” I agreed while taking a knee next to her. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like…King Kong…kicked me…in the…stomach,” she said, every other word causing her to wince.

  “That’s putting it mildly,” I grinned.

  “His…name…was Tikel?” she said slowly. “Is that…some sort…of joke?”

  “Fish said the same thing. But yeah, that was his name.”

  “Well…he…didn’t…tickle…”

  Her body rippled with pain. I waited until she recovered before I spoke again.

  “I didn’t expect that,” I told her with a sly grin.

  “What?” she asked. “Saving…your friend? That…wasn’t…my only…motivation.”

  “Actually, no—well, I didn’t expect that either. But the way you fought? That was pretty damn amazing.”

  She failed at giving me a smile.

  “I’ve…picked up…a few things.”

  “I’ve been out there as long as you. No way I could fight—”

  “Ten years—” she began to say, but stopped as a spasm of pain ran across her face. After a moment, she regained her composure. “Ten years…of dance and…gymnastics… Parents’…money well…spent.”

  “Yeah, I get it. Stop talking so much,” I told her before she could go on. It pained me to see her in so much agony.

  Her agility did make sense. She was always active while growing up. Years of gymnastics had kept her muscles strong and taught. It reminded me of when I heard of football players taking ballet. She was already quick and nimble, she just needed to learn how to direct those skills in a fight. Months of fighting zombies, scabs, and humans had given her the experience she needed.

  “So…what now?” she asked.

  My face grew serious.

  “I still want to go after Dad.”

  She grimaced, both from pain and from what I had said.

  “I know it’s a long shot. But I have to try,” I said as persuasively as possible.

  She gave a slight nod, in t
oo much pain to respond right away.

  “So, you will back me?”

  She gave a light chuckle.

  “What…can I do? I’m not…fit for…using the…bathroom…let…alone…fighting.”

  Trinity’s face was growing pale. Even with the pain medication she was on, our conversation was becoming too much for her.

  “I just need you to tell me where Dad is,” I whispered. “They are not going to let me go, but I don’t care. If I don’t try…”

  She clenched her teeth and nodded.

  “I know…you have…to try,” she said, then her eyes grew dark. “But…you will…fail.”

  “Maybe,” I mumbled.

  “Question…is…will you…be able to…”

  I put my hand on her forearm and she ceased talking. I already knew what she was going to say.

  “One way or the other, Trinity, I will end this. I promise.”

  She gave me a doubtful look, but nodded anyway.

  I grabbed some paper and something to write with. She relayed the directions to where my father was hiding out.

  He was staying in a trailer over six miles away. That wasn’t good. There was no way I could take a vehicle, and I wasn’t going to take Boomer. I didn’t feel like he was in any condition to make that type of journey. The canine’s leg was still giving him a little trouble and it was too difficult to tell how bad his head injury was.

  The trip would take me at least two hours each way on foot, if not longer.

  I was going to do this alone. No one was going to get hurt because of me. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t need some help, however.

  I decided I would leave early the following morning. There were just a few pieces I had to put into place first. Fish would not be happy, neither would Campbell. But they could eat dirt for all I cared. My family would always come first. They didn’t understand because they were not faced with the same situation I was. If it were Fish’s wife, he would move hell to find her regardless of the consequences. But they were not in my position, and would stop me if they knew what I planned.