The kids were all outside with Rosa and Leslie. Raylon and Terrence came out of the house before Jon and Brooke even exited the van. Lucas was there waiting outside the door for his mom, hugging her as she got out.
Some of the kids gasped as Jon stepped out, holding his bloody arm. This brought a look of concern to both Raylon and Terrence's faces, but Jon put his hand up and quickly calmed them down.
"I'm fine. A bullet just grazed me."
"Bullet?" Terrence asked. "What the hell happened?"
"We had a run-in with a few of Malcolm's crew," Brooke said. "Jon got hit with a stray bullet, but, needless to say, we got the best of them."
"You're bleeding pretty bad," Raylon said.
Jon pulled his hand away and observed the blood on his hand. "I'm fine. It's no big deal. We have bigger problems to worry about." He leaned against the side of the van, clutching his arm again.
"They know for sure we're out here now," Terrence said.
"And they're definitely going to be looking for us," Raylon said. "I don't know Malcolm that well, but I know he won't stop until he finds us. He will've taken what we did to him really personally, and he already hates Jon here."
"Thanks for the reminder," Jon said.
Rosa showed up then, a couple of towels in her hands. "These haven't dried all the way, but me and Leslie did our best to wash what we could find in there. We found some soap, so these should be safe to put on your wound."
"Thanks, Rosa," Jon said. He removed his overshirt and placed a towel directly onto the wound. It stung, causing him to hiss briefly, but the pain settled after a moment.
"So, what do we do now?" Terrence asked. "Where were you when they saw you? Would they know where this place is?"
Brooke shook her head. "We were far enough away from here, and we didn't come anywhere close to here once they started following us."
"But it doesn't mean they won't find us," Jon said. "Like Raylon said, Malcolm is going to have scout crews scouring all over. I'm not sure we can afford to wait for them to find us." He looked at Raylon. "You about ready to take another stab at talking to your cousin?"
Raylon exhaled. "I don't see that I've got much of a choice. Hopefully, some sleep knocked some sense into him."
"You need to go and talk to him," Jon said. "And you probably need to go alone."
Brooke stepped in. "We can't let him ride all the way out to Freedom Ridge by himself. Not with Malcolm looking for us."
"Jon's right," Raylon said. "With the way Lennox is acting, I think it's best if I go talk to him alone."
"What if one of us just rides with you?" Terrence asked. "We can hang back, and don't have to go into the camp with you."
Raylon shook his head. "He'll still know you're there. As much of a risk as it is, I think I've got to go alone."
"You should go as soon as you can," Jon said. "It's probably going to take some time for Malcolm to find out what happened to that faction of his crew and send more people out. The truck we ran into was wrecked."
"Alright," Raylon said. "But do we have a plan in case Lennox says no?"
Stepping around to the back of the van, Jon surveyed the damage. Several bullet holes decorated the metal doors, both windows having been shattered. They'd need to find a way to fix them or at least cover them, but he'd worry about that later. He pulled the handles and opened the double back doors of the van, revealing the weapons he and Brooke had gotten at Hope's Dawn.
Raylon whistled. "Damn. These were hidden at Hope's Dawn?"
Brooke and Jon nodded.
Raylon picked up one of the assault rifles. "It's not a lot, but we're still damn lucky Malcolm's crew didn't find these."
"While you're gone, Brooke and Terrence will refresh the others on how to shoot," Jon said. "Unfortunately, we don't have the ammo to spare, so they're mostly going to be learning how the guns work. We'll only be able to let each of them fire off a few rounds."
"What're you going to do?" Terrence asked.
Jon put his hand on his stomach, feeling it rumble. "I'm going to head out and try to find us some food. We won't be any good fighting on an empty stomach." He tossed the van keys to Raylon. "You can take the van. I'll head out to hunt on my bike. I can bring any small game back with me, which is what I'm sure I'm likely to find. If I happen to get lucky and come across a deer or something larger, we'll go snag it when you get back."
"Alright." Raylon looked around at the rest of the group, unable to do anything but smile and shrug. "Well, good luck to everyone."
Jon scoffed under his breath, cracking a small smile as he pressed the towel against his arm. We're going to need it.
18
Jesus looked down at Malcolm, but Malcolm didn't weep.
He stared back up at the son of God with a stoic expression on his face. The stained glass artwork of the religious figure hadn't been damaged during the fallout. It'd been a wonder that vandals hadn't broken the windows with rocks, if for nothing else than their own amusement. But the church had been left alone, probably mostly because of the dense population in the area.
Malcolm had always been a believer. It hadn't always been easy, and had been a big part of the reason that he'd hidden the fact he was homosexual for so long. He'd known since he'd gone through puberty, but to admit that to his old man would've brought Malcolm nothing but physical pain. His father had been the sort of man who would have tried to beat Malcolm's sexuality out of him if he'd known, or possibly even made him suffer from some sort of wacky religious practices.
Through it all, though, Malcolm had kept his faith, believing that Jesus truly loved all of his children, no matter who they went to bed with at night. But the things that had happened lately had made him question his faith for the first time in a long time.
Putting aside the fact that the world had died in the eyes of so many, as Malcolm didn't believe that was true. He looked at it as a way to start over and try to fix the mess that humans had made of it all. In his eyes, in a world of money-lusting political leaders and online cancel-culture trolls, the world had gotten what it had deserved. Now, he was going to do his part to make it a better place to live. A place where power didn't come at the hands of large corporations filling the pockets of pathetic politicians whose jobs involved little more than making sure they could hold on to those positions they'd been elected to. Malcolm felt he'd done a much better job than previous, so-called "leaders." And he'd been able to keep most of his people alive in the process.
Reaching under his shirt and taking hold of the pendulum dangling from the end of his necklace, he gripped it tight and thought of Judah.
Most of them.
He still had unfinished business with the Savage, and he realized now that it might also give him an excuse to take out Freedom Ridge. With Freedom Ridge gone, Malcolm could have the entire area to himself. All the land and all the resources. It could all be his, and Black Hill could continue to grow under his leadership. Nothing could stop him at that point.
But he knew he still had to do the work first.
A courtesy knock came at the church door before someone walked in. Malcolm didn't turn around to see who it was, keeping his eyes focused upward on Jesus. The footsteps of the person stopped in the center aisle near the row behind where Malcolm sat.
"Sir," Bryce said, revealing himself with his familiar voice. "I've got good news and bad news."
Malcolm remained stoic and with his eyes up. He didn't acknowledge Bryce, instead only waiting. Bryce had been Malcolm's number-two for a long time, and he knew how to deliver news to him.
"The good news is that the Savage hasn't fled the area. Our scout team found him. He was with the girl we had here… the one whose son we threatened in order to get her to talk." Bryce paused, audibly swallowing as he waited to deliver the bad news. "The bad news is that—"
"We didn't catch him," Malcolm said, cutting Bryce off with his prediction of what the man was about to say. "In fact, he killed my men. All but one, who I'm a
ssuming is the one who got back here and fed you this information."
"That's correct," Bryce said, a hint of anxiety obvious in his voice. "They got into a car chase with them and things went sideways."
"Did they find where they're hiding out?"
"They didn't. Instead of trying to be sneaky and follow them back there, our men tried to take them out. But our men wrecked, and the Savage and the girl got away."
Malcolm closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. He used his meditation practice to keep himself from blowing up at Bryce. It would be pointless. Anger often was. It only made men less focused on making good decisions.
"Have Bennett send out everyone who's available," Malcolm said. "I want them looking everywhere, specifically in the area where the Savage and the girl were spotted."
"Will do," Bryce said. He went to leave, but Malcolm stopped him by turning around.
"Tell him to be sure they're back within a few hours. And I want you and Bennett to stay here. We have planning to do."
"Yes, sir. Can I ask for what?"
Turning around again, Malcolm looked up at the stained-glass painting once more. He remained silent for a moment, concentrating on the intricacies of the art.
"I think it's time to send a serious message to Freedom Ridge."
19
Jon opened the gate and looked out to the road, making sure no one was out there. It looked clear, so he glanced back at Brooke and nodded before he hopped on his bike. She'd already gathered the others outside and was preparing to give them a shooting lesson. Even the children were out there to learn. They had to prepare, especially in case Raylon failed to convince Lennox that he should join them in the fight.
But for now, Jon had other things to worry about. He had to hunt so that he could feed the group.
The engine roared to life. Jon resisted revving it up, not wanting to draw the attention of any zombies or, worse, people in the area. He doubted Malcolm would have found out what had happened to his scout team, not yet, but Jon still couldn't risk it. Going out on the bike was risky enough as it was, but it was a chance he was willing to take. And he was comfortable on the bike and knew he could get out of just about any situation when riding it. He also wasn't planning on going far.
At the end of the driveway, Jon turned out onto the road and headed for the same place he and Brooke had hunted before.
Of course, Jon couldn't help but think about everything that had happened that day, especially when it came to the predicament they'd gotten themselves into. He didn't know how they were going to win this fight, even with the help of Freedom Ridge. Malcolm was well-armed and ruthless. But Jon kept coming back to the same thing—that he couldn't let that piece of shit live. Not after what he had done to Jon's family, and less selfishly than that, not with what he'd do to others who crossed his path in the future.
However, he had little time to think about it as he reached his destination. Engaging the kickstand and shutting off the engine, Jon then stepped off the bike. He had his hatchet and baseball bat on his back, of course, in case he ran into any infected. But he'd also brought with him a hunting rifle and a .22. Grabbing onto the bike's handlebars from the side, Jon pushed it off the road and into the trees. He wanted it out of sight in case anyone rode by. He next slipped the pistol into his waistband and held a rifle in his hands as he headed into the woods.
He tried his best to keep quiet, but it was difficult because of how many leaves had fallen from the trees. His boots crunched on top of them while also breaking hidden twigs and sticks underneath. He could hear small animals scurrying around the area. It was frustrating to be scaring them off, but at least the sounds confirmed there were some critters around. That also likely meant that there wouldn't be any zombies or other people in the area since the animals hadn't been scared off before.
He walked a little farther into the trees before kneeling behind a large log. Jon remained out of sight there, positioning his gun on top of the log and waiting for something to pass by that he could fire at. As he'd told the others, he didn't expect to snag a deer or any large game animal. But he hoped to get a rabbit or two, and would even settle for a couple of squirrels. That would be enough to get them by when combined with the canned food they'd found in the house.
As he watched and waited for something to walk by that he could take a shot at, Jon couldn't keep his mind from wandering. Whereas he'd before been considering whether it was a mistake to stay and try to fight Malcolm, not giving himself and his friends much of a chance at winning, now he instead started thinking of what it might be like if they did win. With Malcolm and his people gone, the area would be much safer and an enjoyable place to live. Well, as enjoyable as things could be in the apocalypse. Jon also believed that there had to be good people at Black Hill, who'd only brought under the spell of Malcolm's reign. He knew innocent, good people would likely die in the fight, but hoped that many would come to their senses when it was over and peacefully join the survivors of Hope's Dawn and Freedom Ridge.
But what would Jon do?
He hadn't had much time to think about this, and hadn't allowed himself to. There was still the issue of actually killing Malcolm and the thugs he kept around him. Jon wanted to remain focused on that. But in the back of his mind, he knew there would still be the question of whether he'd stay with the people he called friends, or if he'd flee the area.
On one hand, East Tennessee was home. He loved the region, and with Malcolm gone, they could finally make it an enjoyable place to live and build a new life in this crazy world. But Jon also couldn't get past the fact that he'd brought so much trouble to the people who called that area home. He blamed himself for much of what had happened. His wife and son dying had been his fault. The people who'd died saving him from the Vultures? Their blood was on his hands. Sometimes, he wondered if things would have been better, had he died while out bashing in the skulls of zombies. Or if he'd died in the motorcycle accident instead of having been rescued by Hope's Dawn. But he also realized a part of that was bullshit, because all of his new friends would've then remained slaves to Malcolm and the Vultures. Brooke was strong enough to where she might have rebelled eventually, but who knew how long it would have gone on before that had happened?
And there was Brooke. Jon had to think about her and Lucas now, too. If he decided to leave, would they come with him? At this point, he couldn't have it any other way. This wouldn't be only Jon's decision now. He couldn't leave them, though it was something he'd been afraid to admit before. After losing Carrie, Jon wasn't sure he'd ever be able to love another woman again. Then again, he hadn't thought he'd meet someone like Brooke. Especially not at the end of the fucking world. But meeting her had changed everything. Whatever he was going to do when all this shit with Malcolm was through, Brooke would be a part of it.
Something scurried in front of him, and Jon refocused his attention on the task at hand. A rabbit hopped into view only ten yards ahead of him. The furry animal stood out in the open—a perfect shot for Jon South. His sweating palms gripped the gun, and he remained careful not to make any noise so as not to disturb the creature. He needed this animal. His friends needed it. The rabbit wouldn't have much meat on the bone, but it would be a good start, and better than nothing if it was all he could catch.
Jon took aim down the sights, breathing steadily. The rabbit hopped forward once, and Jon feared it might move out of sight. He couldn't wait any longer. He fired.
The bullet tore into the rabbit's side and the animal fell over. It didn't know what had hit it, likely having died on impact.
Jon heard other animals running away from the blast, knowing he'd likely not shoot anything else in this area. He'd have to move to find something else. But he went and fetched his kill, picking the dead animal up by the tail and looking at it.
He'd gotten an animal pretty quickly. Maybe things were looking up. He studied the foot.
"Maybe I'll hang on to you for good luck."
20
/> "Just hold it steady and pull the trigger."
Brooke watched Rosa as she aimed the pistol, holding onto it with two hands just like Brooke had showed her. Even though she was doing exactly what Brooke had told her, however, Brooke could still see the anxiety in the woman's eyes. Her hands shook slightly as she held the weapon up. Though the tremble wasn't much, it worried Brooke. How would Rosa and the others react when they were facing another human being, also armed and aiming a gun back at them? That was a far cry from pointing a gun at a fence like they were now.
"Good job," Brooke said. She wasn't sure if there was any confidence in her voice, but she did her best to make it sound like there was.
"Are we going to get to fire these guns for real?" Jada asked.
"In a little while," Terrence said.
"We hardly have the ammo to spare," Brooke explained.
"Extra ammo won't mean much if we don't actually know how to shoot," Rosa said. "I mean, I think I'm the only one of us who's actually fired a gun before, and even I'm not confident. I definitely know I could use some practice."
No kidding.
Brooke tried to hold in her frustration. She was having doubts about all of this. It felt like they'd be doing little more than sending all these people into a slaughtering if they went through with their plan, and they'd also get themselves killed in the process. She hoped Raylon would come through and get Lennox on board. At this point, she felt like that was the only way for them to win this fight.
As she worked her way down the line to see how everyone was doing, her eyes came to her son. Terrence had just arrived next to Lucas to help him with the gun. With his injuries, Terrence couldn't get down to Lucas' level, but he did his best. As Brooke watched her son, a part of her was proud. She might have been biased, but she thought he held the gun with more confidence than basically anyone else there. Definitely better than any of the other children. The question was, was that a good thing?
Dead South | Book 4 | Dead Love Page 7