This wasn't how Lucas should grow up. He shouldn't have been standing out behind this dump of a house, learning how to shoot a gun in what amounted to mandatory self-defense training. He should have been in school, out playing with friends and getting dirty, playing sports—all the things young boys did. This was all time he'd never get back, and he was here wasting it, all so he could stay safe from zombies and from the maniac humans wanting to hurt them.
Brooke gave herself permission to feel this way, even if it was a waste of time. She knew better than to waste her energy worrying about things that were out of her control. But she couldn't help it. It wasn't fair to Lucas or any of these other children.
She'd done her best to make Lucas's childhood as normal as possible, given the circumstances. But there was little choice left now. Lucas had to learn to defend himself.
After another ten minutes had passed, Brooke retrieved various types of ammunition for the different guns they were practicing with. She sat it all down on the hood of the remains of a beat-up vehicle.
"You're going to get to shoot, don't worry. But the main objective of this exercise is you all learning how to properly load the weapons you've been assigned."
She and Terrence went through the instructions with each person individually, teaching them how to load their guns. Brooke started with Rosa, who seemed to get a good hang of it quickly. Again, she was the only one in the group who had any experience with firearms. As Brooke helped her, she looked down at her son, watching him stand there without trying to load his weapon. Terrence was nearby monitoring all of the children, but was helping Rosa's son at the moment.
"You're doing good, Rosa," Brooke said, patting her on the shoulder. "Just hang tight and we'll fire in a few minutes."
Brooke stepped around the back of Rosa and walked over to her son. Lucas stared at the ground, the gun in his hand at his side. She could hear him sniffling, and watched as he used his free hand to rub his eyes, also being sure to keep his hair down in order to hide his face.
Brooke kneeled beside him. "Sweetie, what's the matter?"
Lucas said nothing as Brooke's hand landed on his back. She moved closer, hugging her son. Using her free hand, she moved his hair out of his face to look him in the eyes. A few tears ran down his cheeks. She used her thumb to wipe them away.
"Talk to me, Lucas."
The boy shook his head. "I'm just scared. I don't want to be doing this."
"I know," Brooke said. "But listen, we're just showing you this as a precaution. The chances that you're going to have to use this thing are—"
"But what if I do?"
Brooke sighed softly as she looked into her son's face. It hurt her to see him like this. He was manifesting her exact fears of this entire situation. She didn't want her son to have to fire a gun, not ever. But she knew that'd be unrealistic, and it was long past time for him to learn how to protect himself. Brooke wasn't always going to be there for him, and he needed to know how to defend himself —and others surrounding him—if there was a zombie or even a human attack.
She clasped his face with her hands, turning him to face her. "Nothing is going to happen to you. Okay? I'll be sure of it."
"But what if—"
Brooke placed her index finger over his lips and shook her head. "Nothing is going to happen to you."
More tears came from Lucas' eyes, but he finally nodded. They then wrapped their arms around each other at the same time.
Brooke held her son, not allowing herself to cry as he did into her shoulder. With her eyes closed, she ran her hand up and down his back. When she opened her eyes again, she met Terrence's gaze. He and some others were watching. Brooke could see in Terrence's face that he had concerns similar to hers. She knew him well enough to where he didn't have to speak for her to know.
How the hell can we win this?
21
Raylon pulled the van over on the side of the highway, just shy of the dirt road that led back to Freedom Ridge. He threw the column shift into park and cupped his face in both of his hands.
He wanted nothing more than for his cousin to come around and realize what was best for Freedom Ridge. But Raylon genuinely worried that he wouldn't be able to convince Lennox this was best.
Uncovering his face, Raylon drew in a deep breath. "You can do this. Lennox is family. He'll understand and come around."
But even Raylon knew, deep down, that Lennox might not come around at all—and would instead assume his truce with Malcolm would hold.
He quit procrastinating, knowing there was only one way to find out for sure. Raylon exhaled and put the van back into drive, pulling back out onto the road before taking the turn down the dirt path. He hoped it wouldn't be the last time that he drove down this road, but he knew that was a real possibility.
Raylon stopped the van at the gate, seeing Carlos there guarding it. Raising his hands, Raylon stepped out to show Carlos who he was.
Carlos lowered the gun. "What are you doing here?"
"I want to talk to Lennox."
"I don't think he wants to talk to you guys again."
"It's just me."
Carlos stood unmoved. He looked around, clearly unsure about what to do.
"Just go tell him I'm at the gate, Carlos," Raylon said. "Tell him I'm alone and that I just want to talk for a few minutes."
Carlos hesitated again before finally looking over his shoulder. He whistled, getting the attention of someone else. It was Louis.
"Go let Lennox know his cousin is here and wants to talk to him," Carlos said.
Wanting to ignore any possibility of conversation with Carlos at the gate, Raylon stepped back into the van. He waited for Louis to return and for the gate to open so that he could go talk to his cousin.
When Louis returned, he walked up to Carlos and talked to him.
"This doesn't look good," Raylon said to himself.
Carlos called out, "Get out of the van."
Raylon's brow furrowed, but he did as Carlos asked.
"You can come to talk to him, but the van stays outside."
"Why?"
"It's just what he wants. Do you want to speak to him or not?"
Raylon sighed. Then, he nodded, and Carlos opened the gate.
Louis shut the door behind Raylon. Being inside Lennox's office felt so familiar, yet it also felt weirdly like the first time he'd been in there. He ran his hand across the mahogany desk before taking a seat.
Waiting for Lennox felt like it took hours. It was almost as if Lennox wanted Raylon to overthink what he was going to say and why he was there. The man had to know that Raylon intended, one last time, to try to get him to agree to fight Black Hill with him. Lennox might have been dreading the conversation just as much as Raylon was.
When the door finally opened again, Raylon didn't look behind him. He could feel his cousin's presence, and if he'd needed more proof that it was Lennox who'd entered the room, the smell of cannabis permeated the air. Lennox put his hand on Raylon's shoulder, and he finally looked up at his cousin.
"It's good to see you," Lennox said.
Raylon stood up and hugged his cousin. "You, too."
Raylon sat back down as Lennox continued around the desk to sit down in his chair. He took another hit off of his joint, inhaling the weed into his lungs and blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. He then extended the joint over to Raylon.
With how anxious he felt, there was no way Raylon could say no. He pinched the joint between his thumb and index finger and took a big hit off of it. The smoke hit his lungs, and he let out a small cough, confirming he'd taken a good hit. He didn't smoke as much as Lennox did, so he still coughed when he inhaled the smoke into his lungs. He took another hit for good measure, knowing he'd be thankful for it later, given how nervous he was.
"You came by yourself this time," Lennox said, starting the conversation even as Raylon handed the joint back to him. Lennox took another hit before setting the joint down in the ashtray in front of him
. "I hope this means what I think it means, but I have my doubts."
"I can't just come back here, Lennox. Not while I know Malcolm is out there."
Lennox sighed. "That's what I was worried about."
"Have you talked to him?"
Lennox nodded.
"And did he tell you that his men tried to kill Jon and Brooke on the highway?"
Lennox leaned back in the chair. "That doesn't surprise me. He wants Jon dead. It's all he wants."
Raylon narrowed his eyes. "And you're still okay with that?"
"I never said I was okay with it, Raylon. But whatever beef those two have is between them. It has nothing to do with Freedom Ridge. I was certain to make sure Malcolm knew that when he showed up here looking for them."
"That's where you're wrong. You're involved in this whether you like it or not."
"And how do you figure that?" Lennox asked.
"Well, for one, Malcolm knows we housed and protected Jon. But more than that, he thinks he has control over you. You were ready to hand Jon over to him. He's a psychopath, Lennox. How long do you think it's really going to be before he wants Freedom Ridge for himself?"
Lennox crossed his arms. "He's not going to attack us."
Raylon looked down. He could feel himself growing more frustrated with every passing second. He'd known he had to make one last attempt to come here, but he'd hoped to actually be able to talk some sense into Lennox. Clearly, that wouldn't be the case.
"You know, I could've been in the vehicle those assholes tried to run off the road," Raylon said.
"You made the choice to leave," Lennox said.
"Yeah, I guess I did." Raylon stood up.
Lennox shot up from his own chair. "You're leaving again?"
"Yeah, but you might not have to worry about me too much longer."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Someone has to stand up to that piece of shit. I won't stand around here and watch my home get overrun by him."
"It's suicide," Lennox said.
"No shit."
"Raylon, you can't—"
"Are you going to help us or not?"
Lennox stared at his cousin for a moment more before shifting his gaze to the ground.
"That's what I thought."
"Raylon, don't do this."
Raylon shook his head. "Sorry, but I don't have a choice." He walked out of the room, ignoring Lennox's pleas to turn around and reconsider.
Shutting the door behind him, Raylon walked down the stairs as his niece Sarina came walking out of the living room. Her eyes lit up as she saw her uncle, but her facial expression quickly shifted to one of despair as she saw how unhappy Raylon was.
"You're not staying, are you?" Sarina asked.
Raylon shook his head.
Sarina bowed her head, and the tears came. "I miss you."
Hurrying down the last of the stairs, Raylon hugged his niece. "I miss you, too, sweetie. I wish I could stay, but it's more complicated than that."
"Complicated how?"
Raylon fought back tears. "I'll explain it to you one day. I promise." In truth, he knew there likely wouldn't be a "one day."
They embraced again, and Raylon kissed Sarina on the cheek. "Just take care of your dad. Okay?"
"I will. I promise."
Raylon didn't look back at Sarina as he went to the door. Grabbing the handle, he paused. He wanted to turn around. To convince Lennox to reconsider. But he couldn't. He knew going back was pointless.
The walk back to the van was a lonely one. But Raylon didn't shed a tear as he passed through the gate, got back into the van, and turned around and left Freedom Ridge for good.
22
The convoy rode down the highway, Malcolm sitting in the backseat of the SUV at the rear of the line. He'd ordered Bennett to gather everyone who could fire a gun or swing a bat, or handle a machete or even a knife. Anyone who could throw an explosive. All hands from Black Hill were on deck for this moment.
Half-a-dozen vehicles were traveling together down the road. Malcolm stared out the window, watching the fields and the trees, their leaves falling as the season changed. He felt nothing different as they rode toward their destination. Malcolm had known this day would come eventually, and so it only felt like another day to him. He experienced no anxiety, no nervousness or heavy breaths. His heartbeat was maybe slightly faster than normal, but that wasn't a sign of him being scared. It was more about his adrenaline preparing to spike for what was to come. But even that spike would be slight, as Malcolm typically held a Zen-like demeanor in every situation.
In the sky, the sun had almost fallen asleep for the night, and the moon stood large and bright. Bryce had made the argument to Malcolm that they should wait until early the following morning to attack, but Bennett had made a stronger case for them to engage this evening. "It'll be dark," he'd said. "They'll never expect us to come back this soon, if at all. We'll catch 'em while they're having dinner and begin the slaughter."
Malcolm had agreed that was the best way to proceed. In all of his stubbornness, Lennox was convinced Malcolm would stick to the agreement the two camps had. That Malcolm would never dare attack them, and that Black Hill would stay on their side of the imaginary line dividing where the two camps could scour for resources. But Malcolm had known the truth all along—that this region was too small for two alphas. There could only be one, and Malcolm was going to make sure that was him.
With Lennox out of the way, Malcolm could finally have control over the entire region. He didn't care how many people from Freedom Ridge lived. He cared more about their food, fuel, medical supplies, vehicles… all the things they'd gathered that could benefit Black Hill. Those who survived would have two simple choices: join Black Hill, likely as labor workers, or be killed. Malcolm was done playing games. It was time for this region of East Tennessee to be his.
As he so often did, Malcolm grabbed the pendulum he wore, which sat outside of his shirt. He thought of Judah, knowing this would be his own first step in getting revenge for the man's murder. The most important thing would be to kill the Savage, but that would come. Malcolm would be sure of it.
The SUV slowed down. Malcolm let go of his necklace and stared out the window. He blinked a few times, confused.
"Why are we slowing down? We aren't there yet."
"I'm not sure, sir," the driver said.
Then, the walkie-talkie clicked on.
"Malcolm," Bennett's voice came over.
The driver held the radio up between the seats, and Malcolm snatched it from his hand. "What is it? Why are we slowing down?"
"Look out the window to the west."
Malcolm got his bearings and then scooted over the bench seat to the other window. Adjusting his glasses and squinting his eyes, he looked.
Headlights shined out from a mile or so across a field. The vehicle was moving away from the direction Malcolm's convoy was going.
"They could be leaving Freedom Ridge," Bennett said.
It seemed sure that was the case, which made Malcolm curious. The vehicle could belong to Freedom Ridge, but it could also belong to someone else. Perhaps visitors.
It could be the Savage driving who was driving it.
"Do you want to send anyone after them?" Bennett asked.
"Yes," Malcolm said without hesitation. "Bryce, are you on this channel?"
"I am," Bryce came back.
"I want you to track that vehicle," Malcolm said. "But do not engage before you know where they're going. If it's the Savage or anyone from that group, we need to find their hideout. And even then, only go after them if you think you can take them down. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Should we continue toward Freedom Ridge?" Bennett asked.
"Of course. We stick to the same plan while Bryce and his crew goes and sees where that vehicle is going."
A few moments later, the SUV Bryce was in came speeding by, its lights off as it went after the other
vehicle.
"Let's keep moving," Malcolm said.
The convoy pulled back onto the road.
It would arrive at Freedom Ridge within minutes.
And as the convoy pulled down the dirt path leading back to the camp, Malcolm's emotions kicked in.
He grinned as the vehicle at the front of the convoy busted through the gates, and the first gunshots of the coming battle were fired.
23
With all the light from the sun almost gone for the evening, Jon arrived back at his motorcycle. It remained in the same spot he'd left it, hidden behind a tree. He pulled the bike out onto the road and loaded his rifle onto the rack. Then, he took a towel from the saddlebag and wrapped the rabbit and the squirrel he'd caught in it. It wasn't much, but it was something. And he felt fortunate he'd been able to snag the squirrel after killing the rabbit and scaring so many of animals away.
He hopped on the bike after putting everything away. It was getting too dark to see far around him, so he kept silent for a moment, listening for any threats in the area. What sounded like a few zombies snarled off in the distance, but they were far enough away that he wouldn't have to worry about them. He only had to ride down the road, anyway.
Jon had plenty of other things to worry about.
He'd been gone long enough to where Raylon might have beaten him back to the house. Would his friend have good news? And how much success were Brooke and Terrence having when It came to teaching the others how to handle guns? Jon couldn't imagine that was going too well, and hoped that Raylon returned from Freedom Ridge with good news.
Wanting to get back before the sunlight was all the way gone, Jon started his bike and sped away from the woods. Within only a few minutes, he pulled up the driveway to the gate. He didn't hear any gunshots going off in the backyard, so he assumed target practice was over. There'd be no use in practicing in the dark anyway, especially with the limited ammo they had to spare.
Dead South | Book 4 | Dead Love Page 8