by Brant, Jason
It came at him, arms outstretched, before he could even get through the doorway. He slammed the heavy wood shut on its face when it reached the threshold, knocking it backwards where it landed chest up in the street. He worked his way out of the building and over to where it struggled to get back up, gritting his teeth at the pain in his leg.
With his good arm he pulled the knife out just as the corpse rose back to its feet. He plunged the blade into its forehead before it could get a hold of him. The knife slid free as the body fell and McCall started across the street before it came to rest on the ground.
“Damn!” said the man sitting in the window.
McCall shot him an angry look and held his finger to his lips.
“Shit, sorry!” the man said, his voice too loud again.
“Idiot,” McCall muttered. He hadn’t been thrilled about the idea of going over there and dealing with these guys before, and now he felt like shooting him out of the window.
The bodies scattered across the street slowed McCall’s progress to a crawl. He’d take a small step over a limp limb and then have to drag his shot leg over top it, hoping it wouldn’t reach up and grab him every time. The knife stayed at the ready in his hand, waiting for something to move.
A handful of moaners pounded against the front door of the building McCall wanted to enter. They were in varying stages of decomposition, with the nearest being the most rotten. Its movements were even more sluggish than the rest, as its decayed muscles failed to function properly. McCall could see maggots squirming in the cracked, rotting flesh of its back and arms.
They hadn’t heard him yet so he did his best to move quietly, wanting to ambush the first one. He wasn’t sure that he could take out all three of them with one arm and a knife but he kept his gun in its holster anyway; loath to fire it so soon. One last body lay in the street between McCall and the corpses pounding against the door, and he carefully stepped over it with his good leg.
It moaned when his bum leg dragged across its chest, startling Mad Dog and nearly making him fall over. He looked down to see its black eyes open and staring at him. Its body lay motionless though, its limbs unmoving. A grotesque bulge in its neck told McCall that it wouldn’t be chasing anyone.
He looked back at the dead standing by the door to find one standing right in front of him, its mouth snapping in the air. Bugs fell out of its mouth as it leaned forward to take a bite from McCall’s shoulder. Most of its legs had been eaten away and it teetered from side to side with each step, almost toppling over.
McCall drove the knife into its temple, surprised at how easily it went in. The dead man crumbled. The other two came forward, their fingers brushing against his shirtless upper body. He stepped backward with his good leg, but his boot caught on the paralyzed moaner on the ground and he fell over, landing atop another corpse.
Knowing that he had no choice, McCall pulled his Peacemaker out and cocked the hammer back with his thumb. He took aim at the moaner on the right, just as its head detached from its shoulders and thudded to the ground. A small woman stood behind the collapsing body, an axe in her hands. She swung it again, embedding it in the skull of the other cannibal.
“Let’s go! Hurry!” She placed a foot on the chest of the dead body and worked the axe back and forth until it popped free. She scanned the street, looking for more threats. McCall watched her as he scrambled back to his feet, shocked at her ferocity.
The woman turned and walked back to the front of the building and waited for him at the door, looking back in exasperated impatience. McCall dragged his leg behind him as he tried to hop the last couple of feet to the wood porch. He followed her through the open door and was shoved aside as someone slammed it shut.
He drew his pistol in a flash, aiming it at the man that had shoved him. The house was dimly lit and McCall had to wait for his eyes to adjust. He didn’t like being taken by surprise like that and raged at himself for going through the door with his guard down.
Two other men stood in the room with rifles pointed at him. McCall didn’t see Stephen anywhere. He hoped that the boy might be upstairs with the other man that had been watching him out the window.
“Relax,” the woman said, placing her hand on the top of McCall’s Peacemaker. “I didn’t come out to save you so that you could shoot up the place.”
“I don’t like surprises,” McCall said. He stared at the man before him, pointing the pistol right between his eyes. “And I really don’t like being shoved around.”
“Haven’t you and your stupid whore done enough around here?” asked one of the men pointing a rifle at McCall. “What do you want now?”
McCall didn’t appreciate the man’s tone, or him calling Karen his whore, but he’d wasted too much time getting across the street. If he stood there and argued with them, he wouldn’t be able to get behind the jailhouse before Karen arrived with the horses.
“Is there a boy named Stephen here?”
The man slowly lowered his rifle and stepped forward. “What about him?”
“We’re getting the hell out of here, and we’re taking the child with us,” McCall said.
“The hell you are!” The man raised his gun again, aiming it at chest height.
“Take us with you!” the woman said. “We can’t survive much longer in here.”
“Shut up, Jenny!”
McCall dropped his pistol and placed it back in its holster, hoping that would defuse the situation. “I don’t have time to argue. Is the boy, or any other children, here or not?”
“You ain’t taking none of us out of here,” the man with the rifle said.
“James, for the love of God, let him speak!” The woman stepped in front of him, blocking his aim, and turned back to McCall. “My brother can’t seem to understand that the woman that brought Stephen back to Sheol didn’t kill his wife.”
“The hell she didn’t,” James said, spitting in McCall’s direction. “And I know you had something to do with it too!”
“Don’t be a fool,” McCall said. “Look around you. Look at what’s happening here. These things have wiped out everything. There’s nothing left and if we don’t get out of here right now, we’ll be gone too.”
“Where are you going?” asked the man directly in front him. “How are you getting out of here?”
McCall looked him over, growing more agitated as the conversation dragged out. The man was short, but stout. He had a long, black hair and a matching moustache that didn’t have any signs of grey in them yet. Though he looked to be in his thirties, his eyes betrayed a calmness and wisdom that wasn’t common for his age. He and the woman seemed to be the only people that hadn’t lost their cool.
“We’re heading north. We figure the snow and mountains will give us some protection.” McCall looked back at James. “Your wife died trying to protect her children. I tried to save both of your boys, but I could only get to Stephen in time. If you don’t go and get him right now, he’s going to die, and everything Karen and I have done to bring him this far will be for nothing.”
A whimper came from behind James and everyone turned toward it. Stephen stood behind his father, his thumb planted in his mouth as he gave McCall a wide-eyed look. James knelt in front him of him and hugged the boy close for several moments before releasing him.
“What do you need from us?” James’ sister asked.
“We’re leaving right now,” McCall said. He turned to the door and limped forward. “Grab any guns and ammo you can carry and follow me.”
“Now?” she asked.
McCall didn’t answer. He threw the front door open and headed back to the jail. Several moaners were working their way up the street, but they weren’t close enough to cause much concern to Mad Dog. He focused on his stride, trying to keep as much weight off his bad leg as possible. The wound in his leg had started bleeding again. He could feel it running down his thigh, over his knee.
“Wait for us!”
“There’s no time,” McCall said o
ver his shoulder. He could hear them coming out of the house behind him. He’d left the front door of the jail open and he hoped that none of the infected had wandered inside.
James’ sister caught up to him and put her hand under his arm, alleviating some of the weight on his bad leg. He grunted a thanks and allowed himself to lean on her just a bit to speed up his steps. She had a considerable amount of strength, which surprised McCall. That was something that he hadn’t encountered in many women. She knew manual labor of some sort, and her powerful, callused hands spoke well for her ability to do it.
“I’m Jane,” she said. “I’ve lived with James and—”
“Not now,” McCall said through gritted teeth. His leg throbbed with every step, and his vision had begun to blur from blood loss. “Keep quiet until we’re in the wagon.”
“Wait!” James yelled from behind them.
McCall didn’t know what had to happen for these people to understand the urgency of their situation. The best tool they had to aid in their survival was silence and they simply refused to use it. Had the boy not been with them, he would have never left the jailhouse. At least the sister seemed to be a fighter and had already proven useful. The others had been nothing but a hindrance thus far.
Gunshots erupted from down the street to their left. McCall leaned backward and looked past Jane’s head, trying to see where the gunfire had come from. A man ran down the center of the road directly toward them, with blood splattered across the front of his shirt. The harried expression on his face as he took seemingly random, inaccurate shots at the dead didn’t speak well for his state of mind.
The man ran up to them and never slowed down, speeding past without so much as a word. His gun clicked empty as he ran by, yet he continued jerking the trigger in spasmodic movements, waving the end of the barrel at anything that moved. McCall looked in the direction the man had come and felt his heart rise into his throat.
Dozens of moaners came down the street, following the maniacal man. He’d managed to lead a large group of the dead straight to them. Most of them looked fresh, having been infected in Sheol, and they moved faster than those that had crossed the desert. McCall figured they would also be stronger and their bodies could take more damage.
“Hurry up!” McCall said, his concern for quiet forgotten.
They reached the door of the jail and the woman released his arm, allowing him to go through first. A moaner staggered through the room in front of the cells, slowly teetering around to face McCall. He drew his pistol and put a bullet between its eyes before holstering the gun and stepping over to one of the desks.
Jane came in behind him, walking backward and yelling at her brother to hurry up. Stephen came in next with his father in tow. The child still had the same blank expression on his face that McCall had come to recognize, but at least his feet were moving this time.
“Load up,” McCall said. He handed James the pump-action shotgun and pointed to the pile of ammunition on the desk. “Take as much as you can carry.”
After hobbling his way to the food and water on the floor, McCall bundled as much of it together as he could in a blanket before handing it over to Stephen. The child took the goods in his arms and stood in silence. McCall placed a water moccasin on top of the blanket and wedged it against the boy’s chest.
Another man came through the door and slammed it shut behind him. He wedged the wood plank in place, securing the entrance before spotting the guns lining the front wall. His smile betrayed his delight as he began stuffing his pockets with pistols and bullets.
“Where’s everyone else?” Jane asked.
“They ain’t coming,” the man said. “They figure he’ll just get us killed.” He bobbed his head at McCall as he spoke.
“Fools!” Jane took a step toward the door before McCall got a hold her arm.
“There’s no time,” McCall said. “They might be right anyway.”
“What?” James asked. “You said that leaving the city—”
McCall dragged himself over to the cells and started tossing blankets through their open doors, creating a pile in the middle of the room. “I can’t say that any of us are going to survive. All I know is that staying here ain’t looking so—”
Another gunshot cut him off. He cocked his head at the rear door and listened. James started blathering again and Mad Dog raised his hand to silence him as he tried to focus. The pounding of hooves came to him then, lifting his spirits ever so slightly.
Karen had arrived.
Chapter 16
The back of the jailhouse loomed ahead.
Karen snapped the reigns again, urging the horses forward. The fires that had been lit in the street were extinguished by the time she’d come back through. Karen had taken the wagon right by Mike and the rest of the people waiting on Gary. They’d been piling every piece of supplies they could find as Mike took out a few straggling moaners. She hoped Gary would return before it would be too late for them.
Everything seemed to have worked out perfectly so far with their new escape plan. So much so that Karen wondered when things would turn sour as they had at every turn the past few days. She didn’t have to wait long, though, as she heard gunshots coming from somewhere further down the street.
When the jailhouse was in sight, she spotted a pack of the infected shambling in her direction. The gunshots she’d heard must have alerted all of the moaners in the vicinity as there were more around than when she had left. She could hear more fighting from deeper in the city, but it was far enough away that it didn’t get the attention of the creatures coming for her.
A shot rang out from the building to Karen’s right, startling her. She looked through the front door as the wagon stormed past to see a woman sitting in a chair with a shotgun in her lap. Her brains painted the wall above and behind her. Even in the split second as she rode by, Karen could see that a large piece of flesh had been bitten away from her forearm. A week ago Karen would have cursed the woman for taking the coward’s path to dealing with life’s hardships. Now she commended her for stopping herself before she would be able to harm others.
As the wagon approached the jail the back door burst open and a blood-covered woman burst through it. Karen’s heart raced for a moment as she thought the woman to be a moaner, but she held an axe and moved into the street with a graceful stride. Realizing that McCall had made it across the street and had people with him sent a wave of relief through Karen.
Mad Dog stumbled out of the door then, dashing Karen’s spirits. All of the color had drained from his face and sweat soaked his chest and shoulders. His condition had worsened much more than she’d expected it too and she couldn’t help but wonder how much longer he could continue fighting. The obvious pain his face exuded told her more about his wounds than he would ever concede.
Fear clawed at her mind, forcing her to consider losing McCall for a second time. Could she continue on without him? He’d protected her in the direst of situations and she felt compelled to do everything in her power to return the favor. If he went down, she wasn’t sure that she wouldn’t want to accompany him.
He held a bunch of blankets in his good arm, tucking them against his body. When he saw her sitting atop the wagon he leaned against a post holding the roof of the porch up and let out a heavy sigh. Karen couldn’t hear it above the pounding horse hooves, but his heaving chest signaled his nearing exhaustion.
The woman wielding the axe wasted no time as she charged the small group of moaners approaching them. She swung the blade in quick, effective strikes, rapidly dispatching the first two infected before they could even react to her presence. The head of the third creature flew from its shoulders and rolled in the street as she embedded the axe in the brow of the fourth.
Stephen and James came through the door as Karen brought the horses to a stop beside the jail. Each of them held armfuls of supplies. Stephen’s large pile of food in his hands looked comical as he teetered on the edge of the porch, trying not to drop anything
. Karen dropped the reins on the bench in front of her and hopped to the ground, smiling down at the boy.
McCall had found him and brought him back.
“Are you hurt?” She approached Stephen with her hands out in front of her, not wanting to scare him in anyway.
“He’s fine,” James said, stepping between them. “Just stay away from him.”
Karen wanted to punch him right there in the street, but she fought the urge and turned her attention to McCall instead. His gaze met hers momentarily and he gave her a small smile. The grin disappeared as his face went slack and his eyes rolled upward, exposing their whites. He slid down the post to a seated position, dropping his arm full of blankets to the dirt.
“McCall!” Karen ran at him, afraid that his body had finally given out. She reached him in three steps, almost getting there at the same time his ass landed on the wood planks. His chin sunk to his chest, his head lulling slowly from side to side.
“Is he dead?” the axe-toting woman asked as she jogged up to them.
Karen grabbed both sides of his face with her hands and lifted it up to meet hers. His skin felt cool and slimy as she patted his cheeks, trying to get him to wake up. She put her ear by his mouth and tried to listen, hoping that he hadn’t stopped breathing. Slow, shallow wheezes escaped his parted lips, but their sickly sounds didn’t raise her hopes.
“He’s still alive, barely,” Karen said. “We need to get him in the back of the wagon.”
A third man came out of the jail then with two large blankets stuffed full of supplies thrown over his shoulders. He looked down at the dying outlaw and shook his head, as if he was somehow disappointed in the situation.
“Well, that’s not so good,” the man said.
“No shit,” Karen said. “Throw that stuff in the back and help me get him inside.”
The man moved past them without saying anything and made his way to the wagon. Stephen and James followed him, with the father taking the time to give Karen a sneer as they went. If they managed to escape the city, Karen knew that she would have to deal with James, and the outcome wasn’t likely to be something he would enjoy.
