The Redemption Trilogy

by A. J. Sikes

  Bodies lay mounded in a heap against a garage door about twenty yards ahead.

  “Eyes out, y’all. Stay frosty and watch the rooftops.”

  The radio crackled briefly, but no traffic followed. Jed signaled for the team to move forward to Ewell’s rack spot. The single-story home had been the last one built, and still needed a coat of paint on its siding. Jed couldn’t see through the windows because Ewell had covered them with blankets and whatever else he could find. The front door was cracked a few inches.

  “He knows we’d breach and clear. Door might be rigged,” Jed said. “Let’s check the garage.”

  The team moved around the house and stacked behind Jed by the side garage door. It was wide open. On his signal, they rushed in, weapons up and light on. The team posted with Mehta behind him and the others along the adjacent wall. Jed ran his wall and confirmed the space was clear. He made quick eye contact with Garza on the other wall and flashed a thumbs up.

  The garage was empty, and the door leading inside the house hung open over a single concrete step. Jed paused before moving ahead. This wasn’t what he’d expected. Ewell was no idiot, but it wasn’t like him to give up either. He wouldn’t have bailed and left the Variants behind. But Jed couldn’t deny his gut. The house was empty, and had been for a long time. Wherever Ewell was hiding, it wasn’t here.

  “He’s not here,” Jed said. “Garza, lead us out, and everybody watch high and low. Let’s check those bodies.”

  Moving fast, and scanning in every direction, the team crossed the street and headed for the carnage filling a driveway up ahead, passing three houses along the way. Jed checked into the windows of each one and listened for the click of a Variant’s joints. He tried to find the rotting fruit stink underneath the reek of the bodies. It was so strong they had to yank up their shirts to cover their noses, and still the rancid stench got through. Mehta doubled over and heaved onto the ground. Jed forced back the impulse to vomit and got close enough to identify a few of the corpses. They were civilians who had been on Galveston when he arrived.

  A trail of blood, bone, and gore led around the house. Jed waved everyone to follow. At the back of the house, his questions were answered. Most of them anyway.

  Ewell had been to Mercer’s neighborhood since the night they were attacked. Fencing and razor wire were set up along the yards behind the houses, forming a long kennel. The team stood at one end, with an open gate in front of them. The kennel stretched at least four or five house-lengths, with bits of gore scattered around in the dirt. It was big enough to hold most of the dogs they’d seen, and maybe more.

  A low growl came from behind them and Jed spun to see a pack of dogs stalking around the side of a house with a team of four Variants behind them. Even now, this close, their smell was covered by the rotting corpses.

  Garza opened up with sustained bursts, and the dogs rushed forward into his fire. Some went down, others peeled off to circle for another attack. The rest of the team fired at the monsters, picking off a few more. The Variants leaped now, springing from the ground to the back wall of the nearest house and then jumping for the team.

  Jed and Mehta tracked them, taking one down. But even as it fell face first into the mud, a second one tackled McKitrick, and a third grabbed Garza. The fourth skittered left and right, circling around them using Jed’s teammates as cover against his fire.

  The Variants hauled McKitrick toward the kennel, and Garza with her. Jed rushed for them, swinging a boot into the first one’s face. When it reared back from the blow, he double-tapped it, freeing McKitrick. She scrambled backwards, away from the monsters, getting her feet under and firing at the remaining dogs that jumped forward with their jaws gnashing. They bit at the air and snarled, trying to force her back. The fourth Variant leaped forward, grabbing Garza’s legs, helping its partner drag him into the kennel.

  Mehta blasted one with a headshot, then raced into the kennel after the other. He gave it a buttstroke across its mouth, and reversed to slam it in the side of the head. It spun away, released Garza, and scrambled around in the mud, flanking Mehta before he could line up a shot. The Variant got its claws around Mehta’s leg, yanking him to the ground. Before it could leap, Jed put a shot into its gut, sending it sprawling to the side. It flipped over and crawled for Mehta. Garza fired a burst at its face, and it collapsed into the mud.

  Jed checked himself, then his people.

  “No bites? We all good?”

  The team nodded and muttered Rah.

  A groan came from one of the Variants outside the kennel, the first one they shot. Jed rushed over to it, and nearly tripped as he jerked his foot back a step. The Variant was shifting back to its human form. The skin softened, and the mouth shrank around a normal set of human teeth. The eyes were still ringed in blood, but the yellowy haze was diluted.

  Jed stared at Sergeant Jordan, not wanting to believe his eyes, but having no choice but to accept what he had just seen.

  “Jordy, what the fuck?”

  “Welch. Pretty weird, isn’t it?”

  Jordan had three holes in his torso, two below the heart and one closer to his collar. He didn’t have long, and he was infected, but…

  Jed had only one question he cared about anymore. Knowing why Jordan had joined Ewell’s sick plan didn’t matter. But how was it possible that the man was lying there, human, when only seconds ago he had been a Variant?

  “How, man? How the fuck—”

  “Lou’s drugs. Antivirals…” Jordan said. “Helps keep the virus from taking over all the way. Let’s you control it.”

  He coughed up a mouthful of blood and Jed stepped back even farther, afraid to get anything on him, afraid to even be breathing the same air as Jordan.

  The rest of the team grouped around him, all of them monitoring the area in between staring at the dying man on the ground.

  “You control it,” Jed said. “And then what? You try to kill us? Fuck this—”

  “Wait!” Jordan said. His voice softened. “It makes you stronger, Welch. Helps you see better. When you’re in control…there’s nothing else like it. Nothing.”

  “That’s great, man. Where the fuck is Ewell?”

  Jordan smiled, and his mouth began to stretch. His lips bulged and his tongue thickened, swirling around as his teeth pulled in to be replaced by the spines of a Variant’s sucker mouth.

  Jed put him down with a headshot before he could shriek. It didn’t matter, though. The growls and snarls of dogs grew louder as a pack emerged from around the last house at the end of the row. And standing in the middle of the swarming dogs was an alpha, like the wolf they’d seen in Mercer’s AO. Jed was so focused on it that he didn’t see the two Variants slinking down the side of the nearest house until they were already leaping through the air, claws outstretched and mouths open with shrieks of hatred and hunger pouring out.

  — 38 —

  Jed was struck across the head by a Variant’s foot as it leaped for Mehta. The other one tackled Garza. Jed swung around to line up a shot at the monster, but it had already taken Garza to the ground and was rolling with him in the mud. And the dogs were rushing the team in a wave. McKitrick let loose with their last HE round, sending a mass of the monsters spiraling away. Jed fired at the others, but his team was going to be overrun.

  If this is it, then fuck it, this is it, Jed thought as he whirled around to help Mehta. A burst from the M27 told him Garza was still in the game, and McKitrick hadn’t stopped firing. The Variant on Mehta had him face down in the mud and was dragging him around the side of the next house. Jed ran forward, following the monster. He reached the corner of the house and was yanked forward by a hand that grabbed him from above. He sprawled on his stomach in the dirt, landing hard on his weapon. Something heavy landed in the mud by Jed’s feet. Mehta was being pulled away in front of him, struggling with the Variant that had its claws around his throat.

  Jed reached for his sidearm and felt it batted out of his hand. He twisted, to r
oll over and face his attacker when a blow to his back knocked the wind out of him. As he fought for breath, he felt himself being hauled up and thrown across the space between the houses, where he crashed against the siding and fell to the ground. He reached a shaking hand to where his weapon should have been, but only felt the dangling end of the sling. His vision blurred as a foot swung toward him and connected with his gut, doubling him up.

  A sharp crack in his side sent burning agony through his stomach and chest. Another kick connected with his groin, and he fought to get a hand up, to stop the attack. His hands felt like pillows. Still he tried to lift them as he sucked in a breath, forcing air into his battered lungs. The effort sent spikes of pain through his side where the ends of his broken rib ground against each other.

  Jed rolled onto his front, using the balls of his hands and his knees to hold him off the ground. He fell back onto his heels, expecting a bullet to pierce his heart or head. His eyes swam with blurred scenes of carnage as the air filled with snarls and the shrieks of Variants. He couldn’t hear his team firing anymore, couldn’t hear their voices.

  They’d lost. He should have stayed away from Galveston. Parsons and Keoh were already dead because he wasn’t smart enough or quick enough to prevent it. Now he’d led the rest of his team into a hell of their own making. They could have stayed at Baytown, waited for Ewell to show up, if he ever did.

  Jed’s sidearm was in the mud just a few feet to his side. If he reached down for it—

  A mud-covered boot swung toward the weapon and sent it flying. Jed fought to focus his vision. He tracked the boot, followed it up the leg and body, and stared into Gunny Ewell’s twisted face. The man laughed and threw a fist at Jed, smashing him in the mouth. Blood welled up, thick and coppery on his tongue.

  “Nice of you to show up, Welch,” Ewell said.

  Another blow struck Jed from the other side, this one just a backhand. But it put his nose sideways and sent blood spraying. Jed slumped to the side, catching himself with his elbow. Fiery pain lanced into his side again. Every breath was agony.

  Jed rolled forward onto his hands and knees, struggling to stand up. He put his hands over his rib, clutching his armor and ammo pouches like he would hold himself together. Ewell stood a few feet away, fists raised like a boxer.

  “Gotta hand it to you, Welch,” he said. “You made it past everything we threw your way. That means you’ve got the brains even if you’re lacking in brawn.”

  Ewell stepped forward and threw a right cross. Jed staggered away just in time, but couldn’t dodge the left hook that followed and sent stars into his eyes.

  Jed opened his ammo pouch and staggered back, nearly tripping over his M4.

  “You won’t get it before I get you, son. Just call it a day and let me show you how good life can be when you’re the alpha.”

  Through swollen lips and sputtering blood, Jed said, “Fuck you.”

  Ewell laughed. It was a sharp, barking sound, and was followed by the half-shrieks and snarls of the dog pack. They came in clusters from around the back of the houses, into the narrow space between the buildings. The dogs stood in ranks behind Ewell, some biting at the air, others sitting like sentinels, waiting for the command to rip Jed to pieces.

  The alpha wolf appeared from around the corner, carrying Mehta by his armor. He was alive, as far as Jed could tell. His eyes were open, but at this distance Jed couldn’t see if they were yellow or not. The monster dropped him, then vanished around the corner again. It came back with Garza in its jaws, dropped him, and went back for McKitrick. The three of them stayed down, huddled together in the swarm of monsters.

  “You can join us, Welch,” Ewell said. “Be part of the pack. And you might even be me, someday, if you live long enough. I thought Kipler would be my right hand, but he got scared and ran away. Jordan was good, almost too good. But he couldn’t stop you, proving I was wrong to put my faith in him. So, it’s down to you… I could see you claiming alpha status, Welch. Maybe even take part of Texas for your own. When the refugees get here, we’ll divide them up. Build an army.”

  Jed felt his breathing flag. The rib must have punctured a lung. He stumbled forward, still clutching his side. Ewell stepped up to meet him, putting his hands under Jed’s armpits and holding him off the ground, so only his toes touched the earth. He stared straight into Ewell’s yellow eyes. Veins of blood pulsed through them.

  “You only get once chance, Welch. Tell me you want to live, and we’ll call it a day. Otherwise, you’re all dog food.”

  Jed nodded as he let his hands fall away from his side. One hand dropped the cap of the syringe and he jabbed with the other, sinking the needle deep into Ewell’s stomach as he mashed down the plunger.

  Ewell screamed in rage and flung him aside. Jed landed on his back and lost his breath again. His eyes were like lead, dragging his mind down to the darkness. He fought it, watching as Ewell’s body shifted. His mouth opened wide, and then collapsed around his ropy tongue as he fell forward, landing face down in the mud at Jed’s feet.

  A howl and cry went up from the dogs and the alpha growled low and deep. Jed put up a hand and waved them back as his consciousness faded. The last thing he saw were the muzzles of the dog Variants surrounding him.

  — 39 —

  Weak sunlight filtered through a window above Jed’s head. He was lying in a bed inside the day room at the Baytown fire station. A bandage covered his right eye, and his chest was taped tight. He moved his hands over his torso and arms, feeling for IV connections and other bandages. His tongue felt heavy. He swirled it around his mouth, checking his teeth and fearing he would feel a set of needles poking out from his gums. Everything was normal.

  A radio crackled near his head, and Jed reached a hand to the table beside him. One of the radios they’d got from Mercer sat there. He lifted the mic and did his best to speak. He managed to get out something that sounded like Thorwath before the door to the room flew open and Garza led the team in.

  “Sergeant Welch! You good?”

  They gathered around his bed, Garza, Mehta, and McKitrick. Each of them had bandages covering parts of their faces and necks, and Mehta’s right arm was in a sling. But they were all human, every last one of them. Their eyes were white and clear, except for a few tears that found their way out as they smiled at him.

  “Thought you were done, man,” Garza said. “Gunny went wall-to-wall with your ass.”

  McKitrick laughed and said, “I never thought I’d see that done literally.”

  Jed felt the instinct to laugh, but his chest hurt with even the slightest breath. He put a hand up and gently tapped over his ribs as he clamped his teeth together.

  “Shit,” Garza said. “You’re still pretty fucked up, huh? Doc DuBois and the nurses worked on you for hours, man.”

  Jed opened his mouth, wondering if he should try to say anything. His tongue still felt like a foam plug in his mouth.

  “Wather,” he said.

  McKitrick held up a canteen. “It’s just water, Sergeant. No brake cleaner added.”

  “Dang,” Jed said, half laughing, despite the pain. It was good to be with his people again. Good to be back. The team stayed with him for a while, until they were ushered out by Doctor DuBois. She told him to sleep some more, and he did.

  It was morning when she came in again to check on him. Greg Radout was with her. She went through her ritual and left them.

  Greg pulled up a chair to sit beside the bed. He said, “You look like shit, man.”

  “Nah, you’re just looking in a mirror,” Jed said. “Can you tell me what the fuck happened? How I got here? I figured we were dead.”

  “You almost were. Your people told me about it. After you got grabbed, they had the dogs and Variants on them, and figured they were done. Garza took out the one dragging him, and Mehta killed the other one when it tried to haul him back to the dogs. It lost its grip and he got off a shot, right up its ass. They were out of ammo pretty quick though, and
got cornered by the dogs. Then you took out Ewell. The doggies all circled up on you and started sniffing. Even the big one. Garza said they growled like hell, but didn’t attack them until they tried to help you. Soon as one of your people got close, the dogs rushed out and charged at them, like they were guarding you. So, your people backed off. The dogs just hung tight around you.”

  “But how’d we get back?”

  “The radio you had was strong enough to call. Just needed an antenna to get the signal to us here. Mehta handled it.”

  “Yeah, he’s good with gear. He rigged up an antenna?”

  “Nah, no MacGyver tricks with coat hangers. He found a long-whip in one of the houses. Ewell’s guys had stashed all their gear in a garage there. They had weapons and ammo, too. Garza got up on a roof and put the dogs down one at a time. They never moved, just sat there and took it. He said it was like they were protecting you.”

  “Figured I was the alpha since I killed Ewell.”

  “Maybe.”

  “So now I get better, and we see what happens?”

  “Pretty much. Hospital bill is gonna be through the roof. Hope you have insurance.”

  Greg said it with a straight face and Jed almost thought he was serious. Then Greg laughed out loud until his face went red.

  “Okay, smart ass,” Jed said, holding in his own laughter as Greg composed himself and sat up straight.

  “Serious now, you’ve done a lot for Baytown, and they’re not going to forget it. But they used a load of resources getting you and your people home, and putting you back together. What can you bring to the table? Like skills I mean. Baytown has a reputation of rewarding labor, but skilled labor gets you better treatment.”

  Jed had to think a bit before he answered. “I got a couple people with languages. Garza knows Spanish, like his sister. That’ll help I guess if we get refugees from south of the border.”