Wrapping the jaws of the bolt cutters around the lock, Jon gritted his teeth when he then clamped them shut. He felt his arms bulge as he pushed hard, and after some effort, the metal lock snapped. Jon pulled the chain out and swung the fence open. Next, he went to his bike and stood beside it, pushing it through the fence before Brooke followed in the van.
As Jon pulled into the backyard, he saw the picked apart corpses of the other zombies he'd encountered the last time he'd been there. There was almost nothing left—only a few bones and pieces of the tattered clothing they'd been wearing. But Jon knew it was them because they lay in the same places where he'd taken them down. Moving around them and also navigating around the steel remains of vehicles, Jon found a place to park the bike where it wouldn't be visible from the road. If Malcolm's people were going to see the bike and the van, they'd have to make a real effort to do so. Even then, they'd also have to recognize the vehicles, and that was unlikely, as they'd probably just blend in with everything else in the backyard.
Brooke parked the van beside Jo and shut off the engine.
"We should check the inside to make sure it's clear before we get everyone out," Jon said to Raylon. He then looked at Brooke. "Stay out here and be ready to bolt in case we run into trouble."
"If you run into trouble, I'm coming in to help you," Brooke said.
Jon knew better than to argue with her. "Just be ready to get everyone out of here if we run into trouble."
After a pause, Brooke eventually nodded. If something went wrong, though, the last thing Brooke would do was leave. She'd rush into the house without hesitating.
Opening the back doors of the van, Raylon retrieved their weapons. He kept one gun for himself and handed the other to Jon. Raylon also passed Jon his bat and hatchet.
Being reunited with the melee weapons felt good. Jon held them for a moment before placing them on his back, but kept the gun at the ready.
Acknowledging each other with a head gesture, the two men then headed to the house.
7
Jon arrived at the back door first. The splintered white door had worn black stains up and down its surface, surrounding the cracks. Its window had a curtain covering it from the other side, so Jon couldn't see inside. He grabbed the handle and turned, and found that the door was locked.
Jon pulled the bat off his back, but Raylon grabbed his shoulder.
"What're you doing? That'll make so much noise."
"If anyone, or anything, is in there, they already know we're here. Riding a motorcycle isn't exactly the most discreet form of transportation. Just be ready in case we've gotta deal with shit on the other side."
Putting one hand on the bat's handle and the other on the barrel, Jon speared the large end of the bat into the window. The thin glass shattered on the first try, putting a hole in the window. As expected, the sound was loud, but that had been inevitable.
Using the bat, Jon scraped away the pointed glass shards, freeing them from the frame. Then, he reached through the opening and found the door handle on the other side, unlocking it. He pushed the door open.
As the fresh air collided with the stuffy inside of the house, a musky scent permeated the air. With the odor came a rush of humidity. Jon had been coming to the house for almost two years, and he'd seen no one living there. This was likely the first time any air from the outside had entered the place during all that time. The feeling in the air irritated Jon's skin, making the hair on his arms stand up.
The back door opened into the kitchen. So many smells hit Jon at once. A mix of sewer water and spoiled food came to him first. He coughed once, then covered his face. Raylon coughed several times, finally snatching his shirt collar and yanking it over his nose.
"What the hell is that smell?" he asked. "It smells like death."
"I hope that's not what it is," Jon mumbled to himself. Other than the place being occupied by a dangerous group or zombies, Jon's worse fear was the possibility of there being dead bodies in the house. They'd never be able to get that smell out, and it would make the house uninhabitable.
Brown stains littered the once white cabinets in the kitchen. Dirt covered the countertops, and a stack of dishes occupied the sink. A couple of mice climbed out of the sink and scurried away, disappearing into the walls once they heard the two men entering the house.
Jon wondered whether or not this was worth it. The place would require a massive clean-up in order for them to stay there. But he had to remind himself, and knew he'd have to stress to the others, that basically any abandoned house they occupied would have similar issues at this point after sitting empty for a couple of years. He still saw the advantages of this place, with it being off the grid and with all the car parts and scraps they had access to in the backyard. Besides, he hoped it would only be temporary.
Moving through the kitchen to Jon's right, they ended up in the dining room. Junk lay scattered across the table, comprising mostly mail and random papers. Jon only glanced down at the table for a moment before looking back up, keeping his pistol aimed and at the ready.
Two couches sat in the living room, each with holes in it. Jon continued to not be surprised by anything he saw, considering what the backyard looked like. To their left was a bedroom and to their right was a staircase, as well as what appeared to be a bathroom.
Using his head, Jon gestured toward the bedroom. He then headed that way with Raylon following, watching Jon's back.
The door to the bedroom was slightly ajar, and Jon looked inside. He saw nothing abnormal, so he put some weight on the door to open it fully. Upon stepping into the room, it appeared empty. Jon took a quick glance into the bathroom, noticing it was clear, too, other than the foul stench. He turned back and gestured to the door.
"Let's check upstairs, and then we'll go back out and grab everyone," Jon said.
"I'm right behind you," Raylon said.
As Jon climbed the stairs, they creaked under the men's weight. Considering the condition of the rest of the house, it surprised Jon not to find a hole in even a single step. The handrail was a little wobbly, but he held onto it anyway, only being careful not to put too much weight on it.
At the top of the stairs, the air was even more muggy, the scent increasingly dank. Jon's shirt soaked up moisture as he grew hotter. Looking around, he counted at least five doors, three of which were open. He guessed that one of them led to a bathroom, one a linen closet, and that the other three were likely bedrooms. Jon kept his gun raised, ready in case anyone or anything jumped out of the doorways. Above him, part of the ceiling had broken apart, the debris being scattered across the wooden floor below.
"Should we split up?" Raylon asked. "The place seems clear."
"Let's stick together, just to be safe. It won't take that much longer."
Jon entered the first room to his left—one with a door ajar. He pushed it all the way open, revealing a kid's room. He noticed the bright purple walls, and the unmade bed had some princess cartoon character on them. Dolls lay all over the floor, and a shelf on the other side of the room had fallen off the wall to land on top of a chest of drawers. The top drawer was open.
Other than the mess, the room was vacant.
They checked the other rooms close by, all with the same results as in the rest of the house. Each room was a pigsty, but nothing inside threatened them.
One room remained at the end of the hall. Its door was closed, and Jon guessed it was going to lead to the master bedroom since they hadn't come across that room yet. He hoped the heads of the house had possessed at least enough pride to keep their bedroom less of a shit-pile, but he doubted that would be the case.
Sweat dripped down Jon's brow as he approached the room. So much heat had been trapped on the top floor of the house, and he was ready to open all the windows and air the place out while everyone settled and they came up with a game plan for what to do next.
Jon opened the door.
He'd been right in guessing that the master bedroom would
lie behind this door. Unfortunately, he'd also been correct in assuming the room would be a dump. Random garbage lay scattered across the floor, and the room stank of spoiled food and dirty laundry.
Stepping over debris, Jon surveyed the room. Light came in through a couple of windows, and he saw no one in the room. No zombies, either. On the far side of the room, he saw one more closed door to check and assumed it was the master bathroom.
As the two men walked across the room, the garbage on the ground made a lot of noise. It made Jon uneasy even though the rest of the house had been empty. He stopped, putting his hand up. Then, he turned around to Raylon.
Using hand gestures, he directed Raylon to stay put and not follow him. He wanted to be as careful as possible, so as not to alert anyone or anything that might be on the other side of the door. He knew he was mostly being paranoid, but there was no harm in being overcautious. Not with everything he'd been through.
He stepped toward the door, mostly aware of the sound of his feet. With his free hand, he grabbed the handle. He pushed the old door open while trying to prevent the hinges from squeaking, but he was unsuccessful.
A repulsive smell hit him as he opened the door. But it was the smell of death that he knew all too well. Then, he saw the source of the putrid odor.
A zombie stood in the middle of the bathroom. It had been looking down at the ground, but raised its head and opened its eyes as Jon entered. The zombie had been a man before turning, some twenty pounds or so heavier than Jon. The extra weight seemed to all be in the creature's gut.
Out of character, Jon froze long enough for the creature to lunge at him. And then he fired two shots, but neither connected with the zombie's head. It grabbed onto him, making the gun almost pointless. Because of that, Jon dropped the pistol so that he could get a better hold on the zombie. It pushed him backward and out into the bedroom.
"What the fuck?" Raylon cried out.
As Jon fought with the creature, he glanced over at Raylon, who tried to get a shot at the thing. But Jon and the monster had gotten tangled with each other, not giving Raylon an opportunity to get off a clean shot.
The zombie snapped its jaws, trying to catch any part of Jon's flesh that it could. Even though the creature was only a little bigger than him, it was strong and desperate.
To get the thing off of him and allow Raylon to shoot it, Jon used his own strength and grabbed hold of the zombie's shirt as he turned, pushing the creature away from him.
What he didn't realize was that he was tossing it toward a window.
The zombie crashed through the glass and screamed as it disappeared. Even amongst the commotion, Jon heard the smack of the undead thing hitting the ground.
Jon went to the floor, tired from fighting the zombie. He put his back against the wall and looked up at Raylon.
"I think the house is clear now."
8
Catching his breath, Jon walked with Raylon out the back door. Before leaving the upstairs bedroom, they'd looked down to the ground where the zombie had fallen. The creature hadn't survived the plunge, apparently having landed on its skull. It lay in a puddle of blood, its head twisted around. Later, Jon would cover it with a blanket or move it away from the house, along with what remained of the others he'd killed outside the last time he'd been there. For now, he wanted to get the group out of the van and into the house.
When they walked outside, Brooke jumped out of the van. She headed around the front of the vehicle and greeted them.
"Is everything okay?" Brooke asked. "We heard some commotion. Is the place clear?"
"It is now," Raylon said. He and Jon shared a look, and neither man could help but erupt in laughter.
"Hey, that's not funny," Brooke said, specifically focusing on Jon.
Jon's smile shrank. The close call wasn't funny on the surface, but in its own weird way, it was. Jon had had so many close calls with the creatures, it had become somewhat laughable. But he understood Brooke's concern.
"Sorry," he said. "The place is empty."
"Well, from zombies and people," Raylon said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder toward the house. "The place is a fucking dump on the inside. There’s junk everywhere."
"But it'll keep us safe for a while so we can regroup," Jon said. "We should get everyone inside."
Raylon opened the back doors of the cargo van while Jon and Brooke walked to the house. Once she got to the doorway, Brooke raised her arm to her face.
"Yeah, I know," Jon said. "It doesn't smell great. The place has been sealed up like a tomb. The first thing we should do is open all the windows to air it out some and try to let out some of the humidity."
Lucas raced to his mom's side, and his face turned sour. "Ew. Do we have to stay here? Why can't we find somewhere else?"
Jon ruffled the boy's hair. "It's only temporary. We can clean it up and make it not so bad. But we need to hang low at a place like this for a while."
"All I know is that I want to sit my ass down," Terrence said, limping toward the house with Raylon helping to prop him up. "If they got a nice couch in here, I'm set."
Jon and Brooke smiled, stepping out of the way so Terrence and Raylon could go through the door. The rest of the group followed, checking out the place they would call home for a while as they entered the kitchen.
After everyone got inside, Jon and Brooke entered. The group had converged in the living room, and they joined them there.
Jon said to the children, "I want you kids to go around and open all of the windows. But once they're open, stay away from them. We need to air this place out some, but we don't need any passersby to see us through the windows."
"Are you sure there aren't any zombies in the house?" Carla, one of Hugo's kids, asked.
"Positive," Jon said.
The kids scattered then, opening the windows as instructed.
"We'll go check out the bedrooms and start figuring out where everyone is going to stay," Rosa said, speaking for herself and the other adults in the group.
"Alright," Jon said, "just watch your step. There's crap covering the floor all over the house."
Only Jon, Brooke, Raylon, and Terrence were left in the living room. Terrence had already settled into place on the couch, propping his leg up on the coffee table in front of it. Brooke plopped down on the couch next to him, and Raylon sat on the nearby loveseat. Jon decided he wanted to stand, as was his preference when having serious group discussions.
"How are you feeling about everything with your cousin?" Brooke asked Raylon.
"Disappointed." Raylon averted his eyes toward the ground, clasping his hands together.
"Do you think he'll change his mind?" Brooke asked.
"I honestly don't think so," Raylon said. "He's been pretty adamant about trying to keep things chill between him and Malcolm."
"That's about to be out of his control," Jon said.
"I know." Raylon sighed after having spoken with a snap in his voice.
"We're going to need them on our side if we're going to fight the people of Black Hill," Brooke said.
"You aren't seriously considering that, are you?" Terrence asked.
"We can't just let them attack Freedom Ridge," Raylon said.
"Bro, if your cousin doesn't want our help, or if he doesn't even think Malcolm is a threat…?" Terrence shrugged.
"We are not hanging them out to dry. There're children in there, man."
"What other options do we have?" Brooke asked.
"We could leave," Terrence said. "There's a lot of world out there, and all we've done around here is keep running into trouble and almost getting ourselves killed."
"We can't just leave," Raylon said.
"Hell yeah, we can."
"Fuck, I should have just left your ass in there to rot!"
The two men shouted back and forth until Brooke finally stood up and yelled for them to stop. "This isn't doing us any good! So, both of you, stop it!"
The two men breathed heavily,
calming down. Then, after giving them a moment, Brooke looked at Jon.
"What do you think?"
Jon had been so focused on trying to get everyone safely here to the house that he hadn't thought much about what they'd do next. He'd mentioned they'd talk about it, but he hadn't considered options himself. Now, he stood in the room in front of everyone, trying to think about what they could do.
He saw the up side in both of the proposed scenarios. Terrence was right in saying that there was basically nothing left for them in the area, especially if Lennox wanted nothing to do with them. Jon could speak to that more than most. For a while after his family's murder, he had stayed off the grid and kept away from all of the drama and bullshit offered with human interaction in this new world. This group could go off and find somewhere to be on their own, away from others.
But he also couldn't let himself leave without killing Malcolm.
The man had slaughtered Jon's family. If Jon were to simply up and leave, he'd never be able to live with himself. Not to mention that killing Judah had made things personal with Malcolm's feelings toward Jon. If Malcolm was the man Jon thought he was, he wouldn't rest until Jon was dead. Jon had to end that threat now in order to take care of those close to him, and to help save the people from Freedom Ridge.
"We can't let Malcolm live," Jon said finally, after considering the options. "He's only going to continue raining terror on anyone who gets in his way."
"So, you think we can just roll in there and kill them all?" Terrence asked. "That's insane. Other than us, we've mostly got kids here. And I can barely walk."
"That's why we've got to get Freedom Ridge on our side," Brooke said.
"Do you think you can talk him into coming around?" Jon asked Raylon.
"I think once he cools down and understands what's going on, then I'll be able to set him straight and make him realize we have no choice but to fight."
"I hope it doesn't take him long," Terrence said. "We might all be dead before it happens, otherwise."
Dead South | Book 4 | Dead Love Page 3