by Thomas Baker
Charlie did as he ordered, never once breaking his stare at Randall.
"You don't want this Randall, you do not want the wrath of the holy coming down on top of you." Charlie spoke very precise and calculated. This sounded like a practiced speech to JT.
"Charlie, spare me your sanctimonious bullshit. Jump up in the damn truck, both of you. What are you, idiots?!" Randall bellowed.
JT looked at Tyrone, whose confused face matched his own. They threw themselves into the back of the truck, lying down on their bellies. JT peeked up into the cab. Sheriff Randall slid across the front seat and mashed down the gearshift. The truck squealed as it shot off. JT turned to look behind him. He saw Charlie kneeling down, checking on Darryl, who was wailing on the ground, holding his leg and rocking back and forth.
"That's right, get down on your knees now bitches. Haha." He heard Tyrone yell out next to him, fist pumping into the air.
Well, this was a surprising turn of events.
Charlie and his friends became little specks before disappearing out of sight.
"Next time I see the "Reverend" or Charlie again, I have something for their punk asses," Tyrone said, pacing back and forth rapidly. "While I sing a little We are the Champions."
Tyrone, along with JT and Sheriff Randall, had taken shelter in one of the abandoned houses. Randall told them it was on the side of town farthest from the church. Randall ditched the truck in a garage a mile over. They walked the rest of the way to this hideout.
Apparently this was Randall's own private warehouse. Boxes were stacked up everywhere, along with a fully stocked refrigerator and freezer. Randall said he only ran the generator to cool it every other day. In one room was a gun rack holding four rifles and a gun cabinet holding another six. There was also two shotguns leaned up against the wall. Eight handguns along with boxes of magazines and bullets were stored in a small cabinet. Randall said he had gathered all this stuff by going door to door after the Outbreak was over.
Randall was sitting in a plush brown chair, nursing his right arm. When he had drawn on Daryll, he got in a luck cut with his knife on Randall's upper arm during their escape. He had directed JT around the house to get him some bandages and hydrogen peroxide. He winced as he cleaned the wound and wrapped it up.
"Right and you will get your chance Tyrone," JT said, trying to get his own emotions under control. JT was in a position he had never been before, trying to be the rational one and convince Tyrone not to storm off. "I've seen what he has done to you. Hell, I experienced a little of it. Who knows what he has done to Hannah, but we have to plan this out carefully. It's just us three against who knows how many, and only one of us has a gun."
Sheriff Randall perked up. "Now listen here, before we go any further. Let me make something clear. I saved your asses getting you out of there. But it is a far leap of faith you are making to believe I would attack the verycitizens I'm supposed to protect."
"What about that Sheriff?" Tyrone whirled on him. "Why the sudden turn? Why help us? I hope this isn't some set up!" Tyrone tightened his hands into fists.
"No, no. Cool your britches. I'm not in league with Albright. Use your head," Randall admonished him."Truth is, a lot of what you were saying had been bothering me for a while, JT. I just didn't want to deal with or accept it. I would rather things stayed the way they were. Can you blame me for not wanting any more change, after everything we had just been through?"
JT nodded and Sheriff Randall continued.
"So when they took Jay I decided to find out what they would do with him. I've done a few stakeouts in my time so following that idiot Charlie undetected was a cakewalk. They went up to the church and unloaded him out front, under the big tree. Albright was standing there waiting for him. I could see him in the dim light as the sun hadn't fully set yet. Once they had Jay out of the truck and under the tree, Albright made a motion. People came out of the church doorway. Each was carrying a lantern. One of them had to be Betty Rossinger. She's your typical little old lady, a widower. She would never hurt anybody. I would swear in front of a judge it was her though."
Sheriff Randall paused, picked at the bandage around his arm, and continued on.
"Anyway, I could tell Albright was giving some speech, he was waving his hands all around, but I was too far away to hear what he was saying. I moved in as close as I dared. That's when I heard Albright declare God should have mercy on Jay's soul. Then Charlie grabbed him."
JT spoke up. "So he hung him? Reverend Albright told me the tree was full of bad people. People who had attacked the church and werehung up there as a warning."
"Jay, gone," Tyrone said in disbelief. "The guy was a harmless pothead. I knew the Reverend was full of shit but wow! Nobody deserves that. Know what I mean."
"Whoa, whoa, there you go, flying off and interrupting me again," Randall said, holding his palms out. "No they didn't hang him. I don't know what they did with him. They made a precession. Albright got in the front, Charlie slid in beside him and Susan brought up the back with Jay. They marched off, down towards the college. Like it was the damn fall parade. I agree though, I bet Albright killed him."
"Son of a bitch," JT exploded, kicking a box. "We were set to be next, weren't we?"
Randall shrugged his shoulders.
"Jay wasn't necessarily a good kid, but he was harmless, "Sheriff Randall rubbed the side of his face. "He did petty things, drugs mostly. He sure as hell didn't deserve to die by their hand. I was torn on what to do with you two. What I decided would change everything. I knew I couldn't live with myself, having your blood on my hands. It was delusional to think I could. That's when I came back to get you out. Didn't know those shitheads would be back down to get you two so soon. If only I'd gotten my ass in gear soon."
"Even jumping to conclusions, we know now he's a scumbag, a liar, and a killer." JT held back the temptation to tell the Sheriff I told you so. "He's been up there, filling Hannah's mind with who knows what garbage. She's been all alone with him and with no idea what's really going on."
"He fooled me for a while, so yeah, he has her fooled too." Randall said, rubbing his eyes. To JT he sounded weary and old now.
JT was grateful they were free, and he'd gotten Randall to come around to opening his eyes. Now they need to hurry and make plans to get Hannah and Gus back. Before Albright did something to them, to get back at him and Tyrone.
"So what are we going to do to get my friends, Sheriff?" JT asked.
"I couldn'tlet them kill you in cold blood," Randall said, shifting in his chair. "Still, all that doesn't mean I'm going togo up to the church with guns blazing. I have said it before. I won't hurt any of my people. I'll be here boys, keeping the home fires burning."
"Seems a strange stance to meSheriff," JT said, frustration coming back. "Doesn't it still make you an accomplice if someone from town were to die up there?"
"It may be splitting hairs, but that's how it's going to be. If I ever to happen torun into Charlie though, I'll make an exception." Randall crossed his arms over his chest.
"Looks like he's made up his mind," Tyrone said, disgusted. "It's just the two of us. You and I." He tried to make a jokeat the end. JT gave him a weak smile.
"Then you and me better come up with a damn good plan," JT said. At least they had a fighting chance now. They were free and Randall here had a good stock of weapons. The Sheriff could cling to his strange morality if he wanted to, as long as he gave JT a gun.
"I can trace you out a decent layout of the church and the grounds," Randall spoke up. "Maybe that way you can avoid bloodshed all together. To bad I don't know the layout of the tunnels under the college. Hell, it wouldn't be safe, anyway. If I were Albright, I would have them booby trapped."
"They have tunnels connecting the church to the college?" JT's mouth dropped. "Why didn't you mention them before?"
Randall shrugged. "Never thought I needed to. I've now turned traitor don't you forget." Randall exhaled deeply before he continued. "Yeah, there are tunnels there
, to make travel more comfortable between the buildings during the winter months."
"We need Dusty here, to make a tactical battle plan," Tyrone remarked.
"Well, that's not going to happen," JT replied, a little more harshly than he liked. "It's just me and you, kid. Hannah and Gus are counting on us to get them out of there."
"You know what we need then? Some kind of diversion. Like they go out the front we go in the back, through these tunnels. Know what I mean?"
"Okay. Not a bad start, but I don't know. We don't want to get killed. Then what would happen to Hannah and Gus? Maybe we should slow down, take some time to think this through." Two against a building full of people wouldn't be easybut they had to do something. Not only to get Hannah and Gus. The Reverend would get his due. These tunnels sounded intriguing but Randall was might be right. JT was about to voice his concern over using the tunnels when Tyrone left the room without warning. JT wondered what his deal was this time.
"Where is your friend going?" Randall asked.
"Don't know. Maybe he needed to go stretch his legs. We've been locked up for a long time." JT tried to keep the snark out of his voice. He wanted as much help as Randall would provide.
While he waited for Tyrone to come back, JT searched and found some paper and a pen. He and Randall were going over the crude map Randall drew when Tyrone came back in. JT wasn't sure how much time had passed, he had gotten so involved. It must have been awhile as his eyes burned for deep concentration.
Tyrone stepped up to JT, then backed up a few steps and stood by the doorway to the kitchen. "I had to go out. Think about what you said. I have something I have to ask JT. Do we need to save Hannah and Gus? Do we need to attack the church at all?"
"What the fuck do you mean do they need saving?" JT looked at Tyrone like he had lost his mind. "Just a while ago, you were as gung ho as me about saving them and getting some payback. This is Hannah we are talking about. Gus who saved your life. More than once."
"I mean, maybe Hannah would like it there better. She never came to see us. We never heard from her. Maybe she likes that religious crap. Didn't you tell me you stopped there in the first place so she could pray? Gus, I heard they fixed him right up. They could be safe there, and we can go our own way. Maybe I don't need to risk my life saving people who don't want saving."
JT wasn't even aware he was advancing on Tyrone until he noticed Tyrone shrink away from him back in the kitchen. He froze, took a deep breath, and blew it out.
"I can't believe you even thinkthat, after what Albright did to you." JT shook his head in disbelief. "What about all we've done to save you and keep you safe?" JT stabbed a finger hard in Tyrone's direction.
"I'm not the first person to have violence committed on them in the name of religion. It also isn't the first time a white person beat on a black one. So I'm willing to let it slide. After having a breather to calm down, I just want to go home, see if my momma is alive. I'd like to not get full of bullets. You know what I mean?"
"Tyrone," JT tried taking a softer approach. "I know I, we promised you that. What can I say? I'm doing the best I can. I can understand if you are frightened. That's why I need your help. We have to plan this well. After we get them out, we can talk."
"I've heard that before," Tyrone said, practically shouting. "You should ask Ashley and Dusty and they'd tell you, your best, it isn't good enough. They're dead because of you."
Without another word, Tyrone fled out the door.
"Tyrone," JT said, in a hissed whisper.
Tyrone kind of just wanted to ignore him. He wished JT had stayed behind at the house and not even followed him to begin with. His eye still throbbed and his gut still ached when he took deep breaths. He knew it wasn't fair to blame JT for those things. Still, enough was enough. Now he had cooled down, he was over wanting revenge on Albright. He wanted to get as far away from him and his cult. JT would either save Hannah or get himself killed trying. The latter seemed more likely. He wanted go back to Evansville, to look for his family. His real family. He could do it on his own now. He was fast and he could fight. JT had at least shown him how to do that. JT still called after him, a little louder each time.
"What?" he called back in annoyance, not even trying to be quiet since JT ruined his attempts to be stealthy.
Dusk was falling. His long shadow telegraphed the direction he was going. He crossed the street and walked into an open field. The grass and flowers had grown over knee high. Tyrone squinted and saw half a dozen boxcars, some tank cars and a run down, broken caboose sitting on a train track. He headed towards them, quickening his pace. Maybe JT would give up and turn around. Hannah and Gus were more important to JT than he was.
"Tyrone, come back here," JT yelled.
"Hey, I think I heard something over here," an unknown voice called out in the falling night. Three flashlight beams bounced up and down, pointed in his direction.
Tyrone shot across the field and behind one of the boxcars like a bullet from a gun. He ducked beside it, feeling its warped wood dig into his shoulder. He looked around, trying to see if anyone was following him. Maybe he lost both JT and whoever the others were.
"Let's look over by the tracks," another voice said.
Tyrone's next thought was to slide open the boxcar and hide in there. Tyrone climbed up, grabbed the handle, and pulled back with all his strength. He immediately regretted the decision. Zombies poured out like a human wave, some flipping end over end. Most were still full bodies, coming to life as they fell. Others came out in pieces.
Tyrone back pedaled, feeling his heart in his throat. A zombie hooked his ankle, spilling him to the ground. Quiet death was coming for him. Too late he noticed the rotting hamburger smell mixed with something much worse. He felt hands around and under his arms. He was yanked back away from the undead.
"Tyrone, you fucking idiot. What are you doing?" JT said, exasperated.
"Right now, trying not to get eaten. You know what I mean," Tyrone said, scrambling to his feet.
"Over here, over here," the other voice yelled. Light seeped between the boxcars and under the wheels. It got brighter and brighter.
"Damn it Tyrone," JT said, gritting his teeth. "We can't get caught again by these church pricks. Here."
He handed Tyrone a hatchet. It felt good to have its solid handle in his hands. JT had a pistol in his other hand. "I've learned not to go around this town empty-handed." JT said with a crooked smile.
The growing light showed what had to be at least twenty zombies had tumbled from the boxcar. "Who the hell stuffs zombies in a boxcar? Seriously?" Tyrone couldn't believe what just happened.
"I don't know, but we need to get back to the Sheriff's hideaway." JT moved in that direction.
"I'm not going back. It's time I was on my own," Tyrone chopped the grabbing zombie's hand off, then its rotted head. "You need to listen. I'm leaving to find my family. I ain't waiting around on you."
"This isn't the time or place for a debate," JT replied, getting a headshot on another zombie with his pistol. "Be ready to move when I say so."
The light intensified as the men who the voices belonged to rounded the boxcar. "Holy shit," Tyrone heard one of the three call out.
Some of the zombies turned towards the sound of the newcomers. The rest kept coming towards him and JT. Tyrone ducked his head, his eyes temporarily blinded, when a beam of light hit him.
"Hey, there's one of them!"
"Tyrone, I'm double sure this isn't the time for a debate. Let's go!" JT commanded. JT headed off toward Sheriff Randall's place.
Instead of following JT, Tyrone took off for the back of the train. The land was flat but his feet slipped in the gravel along the tracks, reducing his speed. He could swear he could feel clumps of rocks hitting the back of his legs as the still night was broken by gunfire.
"Get them, get them!" one of the pursuers cried out. "Albright has commanded it. Watch the zombies. On your right...the right!"
Tyrone cou
ld see where the attackers were by the waving lights. He wondered if JT was still around or did he go back to the Sheriff. Tyrone crouched down in between the boxcar and the tank car, by the coupling. He was on his tiptoes, ready to move at a moment's notice. Good thing too, as it alerted him to something behind him moving in fast by its long shadow. He pivoted, at the same time putting his hands out to push whatever it was along. It was a runner. It smacked full speed into the coupling and dropped. Tyrone hit it three times, hacking its head off, satisfied it wouldn't be getting back up. Tyrone looked around, not seeing any other zombies close to him. However, he saw a light beam come closer to his position. He jumped up and grabbed the metal railing by the stairs of the caboose. With a silent grunt Tyrone lifted himself up and ducked inside the door.
Light shone through the windows high upin the walls, at the top of a ladder. Beside Tyrone was a table with two chairs bolted into the floor. Dust floated around him as he disturbed the ground. He thought about hiding under the table when he heard a weapon go off. Something smacked into the side of the caboose, sending it rocking. He wasn't prepared for the impact and slid along the floor, landing with a thump on the other side.
"Something's in there," Tyrone heard a man yell out.
On his hands and knees he crawled to the other end of the caboose. Tyrone did his best not to sneeze. His nose itched mightily. He went out the opposite door he came in. Staying low Tyrone hopped down to the ground and took a quick glance around. One light beam was at the other end of the caboose. Tyrone deciding his best course was to wriggle under the caboose before they closed in.
Tyrone laid on his back, holding his hatchet to his chest like a security blanket. He could see in great detail the rusted pipes and other parts he didn't know the name of attached to the bottom of the caboose. The crunch of footsteps became louder as someone approached. Tyrone held his breath as long as he could, thinking silent and still, silent and still.
Slowly he pivoted his head left, towards the sound. He could see white sneakers standing in the gravel. The light flashed around, then flashed down towards the ground. Tyrone rolled on his left side and struck with the hatchet in a wide sweep.