Bernie was the only one not to participate in the defilement of the women. He watched helplessly, emotions torn between disgust and pity on the one hand and relief on the other that he was spared that living nightmare, at least for the time being. He hated every member of the gang, Gabe especially, but knew he had no hope of lasting on his own. He’d found out before he was taken by them that his survival skills were sadly lacking, nonexistent in fact, and he had to accept the mistreatment they dealt out in order to go on living, a decision he increasingly thought might be worth reconsidering.
The camp in which he’d lived before the gang raided it had been a small one, but he actually had friends there, people who accepted him for what he was without judgement. It was a hard life and a dangerous one, but he’d truly been happy there and had found companionship and camaraderie.
The raiders came in the dark, hitting the camp an hour before sunrise when the guards were tired and lax, looking forward to being relieved. The raid was quick and brutal. Nine men and one woman were killed in the attack and three other women shot themselves rather than be taken alive. Bernie had been in a tent with his intimate companion when a wild round pierced the canvas and killed him outright. He fell against Bernie, knocking him over, causing him to strike his head and become temporarily stunned and helpless. When Cy and Nate burst into the tent, they found him on the ground, still dazed, trying to pull his clothes together. His companion was naked and the invaders quickly appraised the situation and decided that, since none of the women were left alive, Bernie would do. He resisted at first, of course, but it was a hopeless battle and something more than half the bandits took advantage of him at one time or another over the course of the next few months, beating him down until he resigned himself to his fate.
At first, thoughts of revenge filled his head nearly every night. One by one, he would kill them all, devising, in his mind, the most horrible, painful deaths imaginable. He would save Gabe for last, using the most exquisite tortures on him until he begged for the mercy of death, which Bernie would, eventually, grant him. Now though, he only wanted to escape, but he needed somewhere to escape to. Simply walking away, which actually was possible since they thought so little about him they didn’t even consider him worthy of a guard, would only ensure his own death, whether at the hands of the infected or to the vagaries of nature- exposure, starvation, disease or injury. He had to find another group, but every other group they found was attacked and destroyed by the hated Gabe and his inhuman band of sadistic butchers. All he could do was bide his time and hope an opportunity somehow came his way.
Chapter 8: Tad Begins to Reason
An overturned dumpster behind a looted bar a few days after the attack on the duplex yielded a couple dozen empty bottles. Tad held one in his hand and was busy stuffing a piece of rag into the neck. One of his lieutenants was clumsily doing the same thing. When he was satisfied the rag was sufficiently secured, he hurled the bottle at the wall of the bar and watched it shatter. He was momentarily puzzled that nothing else happened until it vaguely occurred to him that the rag should be on fire. Nothing anywhere nearby was burning and he had no idea how to go about starting a fire. Still he took the time to get across to a number of drones that they should carry the bottles while they made their way through the small, deserted town. More than half of them lost their cargoes along the way or simply got tired of carrying them and tossed them aside.
Nearing the edge of town, he smelled meat cooking and his mouth immediately filled with saliva. His lieutenants held the drones back with some difficulty while he and the female cautiously zeroed in on the source of the aroma. Outside of a small, thoroughly ransacked jewelry store, two men were tending a wood fire over which they were cooking a concoction of canned meat and sundry vegetables in a large pot. A woman appeared in the doorway and said something to one of the men. Her words were meaningless to Tad, but he did recognize them as some form of communication. The man answered her and she went back into the building. Tad conveyed to the female that she was to stay and keep watch while he gathered up the rest of the band and distributed them in three groups, surrounding the store, an alpha in charge of each of two and himself heading the third. He kept up his observation while the trap was laid, noting there seemed to be only four adults but at least one younger male who remained in the building, appearing at the doorway occasionally.
Once his drones were all in position, he rose up and shrieked out a signal and all three groups charged the building.
Both men looked up in shock and one immediately ran for the door, firing a pistol at the closest infected as he ran. The other grabbed the hot kettle, screaming out in pain as he quickly dropped it and hopped a couple of times while waving his burnt hands before he turned to follow the first. Unfortunately, the momentary delay was long enough to be fatal and he was tackled by three drones who fell upon him, silencing his cries of terror and agony only after several horrible minutes. The door slammed shut just as two drones reached the sidewalk in front of it and the other man fired three shots through one of the broken windows, downing one of them.
Ignoring the feast in front of him for the moment, Tad took one of the bottles and held the end over the fire, setting the rag ablaze. He hurled the bottle at the building and was again disappointed when all that happened was that the bottle shattered and the flame was snuffed out. There was obviously something missing.
The jewelry store turned out to be a poor choice of refuge as the drones clambered through the window openings, several of them cutting themselves severely on shards of glass still embedded in the frames. The people inside, the second man, two women and three pre-teen boys, were quickly overwhelmed, though at the cost of six drones killed and another three wounded.
While the others were devouring the dead, both drones and victims, Tad paused during his own feast to ponder over why his attempt to set the building ablaze failed. He had done everything he’d seen the people at the duplex do, but with no results at all. Clearly some crucial element was missing and he tried to remember exactly what he’d seen at the duplex.
As the feeding tapered off, he noticed one of the drones leaning through a side window into a car parked in front of the store. The drone kicked over a metal can standing nearby at the curb, spilling its contents on the sidewalk. Something about the smell it gave off was familiar to Tad and he picked up the can and examined it as he walked back toward the store. Suddenly, it dawned on him that he’d smelled the same odor at the duplex when the bottles had shattered at the feet of his drones. He set the can down and went back to the curb, dipping his fingers into the spilled liquid and bringing them up to his nose. He had sufficient cognitive ability to make the connection and he went back to the fire, picking up a burning stick by the cold end and carried it back to the car.
Flames instantly sprung from the spilled liquid when he dropped the stick onto the puddle. Startled, he backed away and watched as the shredded, gasoline-soaked trailing ends of the drone’s pant legs flared up. The drone, as was true of all drones, felt pain only in an abstract sense, but the kind of searing agony caused by being set afire soon began to register even on dulled senses and he sprang away from the car, looking down uncomprehendingly at legs that were now fully engulfed. Staggering, hopping and swatting at the flames, he began to run in a clumsy, stilted gait, falling to the ground within a minute or so of being set ablaze. He squealed, writhing on the pavement for another half a minute while other drones gathered round him, falling on him and devouring him even as he was being burned alive.
Tad’s mouth curved upward in something that might have passed for a grin and he carried a bottle over to the can. He set the bottle on the sidewalk and picked up the can, pouring its contents over the neck of the bottle, spilling more on the ground than into the container. Stuffing a rag into the now half full bottle, he carried it back to the fire and used another blazing stick to light it. The whole outside of the bottle flamed as the spilled gas caught and he immediately hurled it at the brick wall where i
t shattered and spewed blazing fuel all over. He batted his hand against the remains of his suit jacket until he extinguished his flaming sleeve, then surveyed the burning wall and grinned again.
The flames burned fiercely for only a short while before dying out, disappointing Tad, who had yet to recognize the difference between flammable and non-flammable materials. He looked back again at the cook fire and noted how the flames were actually consuming the sticks and scrap wood that fed it. A few more sticks were piled up nearby and he placed some of them on the small conflagration and watched as the dry wood caught fire without the accelerant of gasoline. Looking around, he tore off a scrap of cloth from the shirt of one of the pillaged corpses and dropped it on the fire, seeing it too begin to burn. A dead leaf burst into flames immediately when he dropped it on the fire as did a torn sheet of newspaper. The flames, however, had no effect on a broken piece of brick from the jewelry store wall, shards of broken glass or a handful of dirt from the gutter. Obviously, the kettle was made of a material that wouldn’t burn and he filed all this information into the back of his mind. He experimented with a number of other odds and ends found near the building until the fire eventually burned itself out.
An idea had germinated in his mind, one he nurtured almost to the point of obsession. He now knew with certainty that he had a weapon that, properly employed, was capable of driving prey from their shelter taking away one of their major advantages. The other advantage they had over the infected was the use of guns and Tad began to wonder if there was some way of cancelling that one too.
There were still several bottles left and the clothing from the dead provided ample rags to stuff in the necks, but the gallon can of gasoline was now empty and he had no clue where to find more. Still, this was a weapon worth pursuing and Tad was not one to let an opportunity pass him by. Gathering his motley band together, he again set off in the never-ending search for food.
Chapter 9: Medical Advice
Jake woke before the crack of dawn a few days after their visitors departed, before anyone else began to stir. After popping a couple more pain pills and attending to his morning ritual, he made his way downstairs, put on a pot of coffee and when it was ready, poured himself a cup and carried another out to Tom who again happened to be on guard duty on the front porch.
“All quiet?” he asked, getting a nod from Tom as he handed him the cup. He lit a cigarette and sat against the porch railing.
“I’m going to miss this place,” he reflected after taking a sip.
“Have you made up your mind then?” Tom asked.
“It does make good sense. We’d be closer to people we know and trust, closer to support, if we need it. I still want to check it out for myself before making a final decision, but it seems like the logical choice.”
“We’d be closer to a real doctor, too,” Tom said pointedly as he noted Jake was still favoring his left arm. “That would have come in handy more than once.”
“Once everyone is up,” Jake ignored the comment, “I think I’d like to see if Pete is up to making the trip.”
“What about me?”
“You’ve been up half the night. Stay here and get some rest. We can handle this.”
“I suppose Vickie and Carolyn will be going along, too?”
“I doubt we’d be able to talk them out of it,” Jake smiled
Hannah joined them then, a cup of coffee cradled in her hands.
“Do me a favor, Jake?” she asked.
“Sure. What is it?”
“Next time, wait for me to make the coffee.”
Tom laughed, then yawned mightily.
“Go on and get some sleep,” Jake told him. “I’ll keep watch.”
Once Tom was gone, Hannah sat in the rocker sipping her coffee.
“I heard you mention making the Hollington run to Tom.”
“This would be a good time for it. Things have been quiet the last few days; the infected haven’t come back around again yet and we buried the bodies a couple miles further down the road this time.”
“It would also be a good opportunity to have Dr. Vargas take a look at your shoulder.”
“My shoulder? It bothers me a little now and then.”
“Uh huh. Just whom exactly do you think you’re fooling? You’ve been trying your best to hide it, but everyone’s aware of how much it’s bothering you,” she informed him. “Vickie had already decided she was going to make you make the trip to see Dr. Vargas anyway before the end of the week. The way you’ve been favoring that arm lately, it’s way past the point of being obvious. Those pain pills really aren’t helping cover it up much anymore, you know.”
“Pills?” Jake stopped and looked at Hannah. The expression on her face immediately told him there was no point in playing dumb. “So, Vickie found them?”
“She did, and she’s worried sick over it. Carolyn’s told her how dangerous and addictive those pills can be and it’s all Vickie can do to keep her from confronting you herself about them. You’ve been brushing off her concerns for too long now. You have to do something and it has to be soon.”
“Yeah, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” Jake conceded. “I don’t know what he’ll be able to do about it.”
“Just promise me you’ll let him look at it?”
“Okay, Hannah, I promise.”
“And soon; before the end of the week,” she added.
“Before the end of the week; I promise.”
Taking a last drag before dropping the cigarette into the sand bucket, he carried his empty cup back into the kitchen for a refill just as Vickie reached the bottom of the steps.
“Jake,” she called out to him, determination in her voice. “It’s past time we had a serious talk about your arm! I know you’ve been trying to keep it from me, from all of us and I know you’ve got it into your mind that you have to maintain an image of-“
“Let me stop you right there, Vickie,” he held up his hand to interrupt. “We’re making the trip to Hollington and I’m going to see Dr. Vargas about it.”
She stared at him, mouth partway open, a flustered look on her face at having her carefully rehearsed speech interrupted. Then she saw Hannah smiling at her from the doorway and gave her a grateful nod.
“I should have just turned the whole matter over to her long ago,” Vickie laughed, relieved. “I’m still mad at you for letting it go on so long though.”
“But you’ll get over it, won’t you?”
She laughed again at the sad, puppy-dog look he gave her and stood on her toes to kiss him.
Jake mentioned the road trip to the others over breakfast and Pete thought it an excellent idea and suggested they leave as soon as possible. Jake agreed they should think about heading out in the next few days until he felt Vickie’s foot connect to his shin under the table.
“We can start out right after breakfast,” she told him. “There’s always something that seems to come up to keep us from doing this. We need to just make up our minds and do it now.”
“I guess we’re leaving today,” he told Pete.
As Jake expected, Eve wanted to ride along, too and Liz didn’t even try to talk her out of it, just told her to be careful, having come to accept that her little girl wasn’t all that little anymore.
While they were loading a few supplies into the Hummer and the 350, Vickie couldn’t help notice that Jake was using his left arm as little as possible, wincing when he had to use both hands to lift or move anything. Kim noticed it too and positioned herself directly in front of him, palm against his chest pushing him back and telling him in no uncertain terms that he was to sit quietly on the front porch until the vehicles were loaded and ready to leave. As petite as she was, having to bend her head upward to look him in the face, there was no room for argument when she made up her mind and Jake, secretly relieved, ambled back to the porch and smoked a cigarette while the others packed the cars.
A very amused Vickie got behind the wheel of the Hummer and made Jake take the pas
senger seat. Remarkably, he made no argument and she knew the pain must be much worse than he was letting on.
With Pete and Carolyn in the lead in the 350 and Eve in the backseat of the Hummer, they were on the road shortly before 10 am. Out of the corner of her eye, Vickie saw Jake draw the bottle of pain pills from his pocket as nonchalantly as he could manage with her that close. She glared at him until he sheepishly handed her the bottle and she stuffed it in her own pocket.
The rest of the drive was uneventful for the most part until a few hours before dark when they came across a car in a ditch at the side of the road, perforated with bullet holes. A few well-gnawed remains told them the infected had fed on the victims after they’d been killed.
“These people were ambushed by bandits,” Pete stated the obvious. “There must be fifty bullet holes. They wanted to be sure that they were all dead.”
“They probably tried to fight back,” Jake opined, looking at the empty shell casings littering the floor of the vehicle and the ground around it.
“The infected got here sometime later,” Pete continued. “There’s nothing worth salvaging in the car. The gas tank is drained and they even took the battery.”
“Oh, God, look at this,” Carolyn called out, drawing their attention to a woman’s shoe a few yards away, heavily scuffed at the back as if the owner had been dragged away.
A quick search turned up no sign of the missing woman’s remains and her probable fate was apparent to all.
“Bandits. Seems an awfully mild word for the kind of people who’d do something like this,” Jake muttered. “As if the infected weren’t enough to worry about, we have to be on the watch against being waylaid by criminals, too!”
After burying the scant remains, there was nothing more to be done, nothing useful to salvage, so they all solemnly went back to their vehicles and drove away. Alternating drivers, they stayed on the move the rest of the evening and through the night, stopping only for quick bathroom breaks and to brew a pot of coffee to refill their thermoses. It was an hour after dawn when they finally sighted the Hollington walls.
The Complete Lethal Infection Trilogy Page 34
