I roll into the aisle, aim the clunky pistol with both hands and pull the trigger. The flare explodes from the barrel in a burst of orange sparks. It wobbles through the air before connecting with his chest, right where his heart should be. He sees it coming but is too slow to register. When he’s out hunting, the animals don’t shoot back.
The impact from the flare throws him to the floor, filling the bus with smoke and a burst of light that quickly fades out while Dad writhes in pain, flailing about, trying to remove his shirt. Doug sticks his foot into the aisle and kicks the gun towards me. It bounces off the leg of a seat and spins before coming to a stop a few feet away. It’ll leave me in the open but I dive after it anyway.
I land on the floor and slide like a penguin but don’t make it far on the rubber treads. Buckley and his crony both shoot. One bullet blows the stuffing out of a nearby seat, the other accidentally strikes my dad somewhere in the leg while he thrashes around on the floor, his shirt burning strongly beside him. My hand wraps around the rubber grip. I don’t know how many bullets are left in my dad’s gun, but as long as there’s two, that’ll be enough.
I jump to my feet and they both duck down. From my new vantage point, the damage is even worse. The windows on both halves of the emergency door are shot out. A new hole in the roof has water pouring in from two locations. There’s blood on a window in the back I hadn’t noticed before, a body slumped in the seat below it. I can’t make out who it is but they’re not moving. Please don’t be Scott. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve Joseph Buckley as a father. He’s not like them.
“Put it down Noah.” Neil? Why do I hear Neil’s voice behind me? “It’s over.”
I glance over my shoulder, keeping my dad’s gun aimed at the back of the bus. Neil’s pointing a gun at me. What the fuck is he doing? If he wants to get his father off the bus, here’s his chance.
“Neil, what are you doing?” I whisper. “We can take them.”
“There is no we Noah. It was a setup. You don’t get it yet? I’m not on your side. I played you. Now put the gun down.”
“That a boy,” Buckley calls from the back, not daring to poke his head over the seat. He knows I’m a terrible shot, or at least thinks he does, but he’s not willing to risk it. “What are you waiting for son? Take him out.”
“If I do, promise me we’re going to go to that evacuation center. Swear to me we’re going to Shasta Lake.”
“I can’t do that Neil. While you were out there, look, the evacuation center, it isn’t happening. Our military failed us. They canceled the evacuation plans. No one’s going to Shasta Lake son, we’re on our own out here.”
“What? No,” he practically cries. “No, no they have to. I can’t go out there again. You don’t know what it’s like.”
“You won’t have to go out there again. All we have to do is get to Rancho Mayal, it’s not far.”
“What the fuck is Rancho Mayal?” Neil shouts, clearly not impressed by this new development.
“Religious compound, middle of nowhere, Smith here was working the case. It got shut down. Tell him,” he urges, nudging the frail looking man out into the open.
He slowly emerges from behind the seat, his gun aimed at me. “My team is handling the defense. They had to clear it out for evidence. Huge stone building, tiny windows, one entrance. It sits on tons of acres, vegetable gardens, livestock, completely fenced in. Vacant. We can take it.”
“See, Neil?” his father asks, still not showing himself. “Once we’re inside, you won’t need to leave again. Because people like Noah and his little negro friends, if they come to their senses, that’s work for them. You’re a leader son, you rule, they work for you. We don’t need the government to rule over us, we can manage just fine without them.”
“I won’t need to leave the fence? Because I don’t want to be out there.”
“You don’t need to go out there Neil, scout’s honor. All you have to do is make it to Rancho Mayal. Pull the trigger son. Make him pay for not protecting your girl. He can’t be trusted. People like him are the ones who ruin what we, as a family, will build. You, me and Scott, we’ll be kings. And we’ll live like kings because we deserve it.”
Shit. I don’t know who to aim at. Smith or Neil? I don’t know who the bigger threat is. I can’t shoot them both at once.
“I have the shot,” Smith whispers down to his lord and savior.
“No, this is Neil’s kill. This is something he needs to do.”
“Noah,” my dad whines from the floor where he’s propped himself up against a seat, clutching his chest in pain, “one bullet. There’s only one left.”
I turn the gun on Neil. His father’s right, he has to be the one to do it. I may not be a Buckley but I understand their mentality. I don’t believe he set me up. I refuse to believe it. He’s not that good of an actor. He meant every word he said out there, he had to, I know he did. But now he’s subject to his father’s form of poison.
“He never planned on going to the evacuation center,” I say slowly. “He’s been lying to you the entire time. This was his plan all along. He used us to get what he needed. He was going to leave you out there with me. I brought him weapons, you got him what he needed from the pharmacy and he was done with us. Not just me, you. He wanted to leave us here and Marty refused, that’s why he shot him.”
“Lies son, all lies,” Mr. Buckley screams from his hiding spot. “I would never leave you behind. You’re my flesh and blood.”
“He’s lying Neil,” Scott blurts out, “he was gonna leave–” but someone silences him with what sounds like a hand over his mouth.
Neil lets out an aggravated primal roar and rubs his head like he’s confused, never lowering his gun. “Shut up, shut up, everybody just shut the hell up.” One hand still covering half his face, he makes eye contact with me and winks. Did he mean to wink? What the fuck was that? “Dad, I swear to god you better tell me the truth, were you gonna leave me here while I searched for Felecia’s body?”
“Of course not. That is ludicrous. I was praying for her safe return, but with someone like Britton supposedly looking out for her, something tragic was bound to happen.”
“I did my best,” I plead, testing the waters, trying to figure out his game plan. “You saw that building Neil, you know there was nothing I could have done to save her. I didn’t mean for her to die.”
“But she did!” he screams. “And it’s your fault. You killed her. She was supposed to be mine. I would have saved her.”
Either he’s completely lost it and doesn’t remember Felecia is alive or…
“Do it son, claim your vengeance.”
“Kneel,” he hisses in my direction. “Get down on your knees. I want you all to see this.” He directs his words at my friends as they cower in their seats, trembling in fear while I slowly drop to my knees. “This is what happens when you cross me. The only reason any of you get to live is so that you can serve me. Dad, I need you to see this.”
… Or he’s trying to lure his father out of hiding. It was a wink. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
But Mr. Buckley doesn’t show himself. My dad’s eyes meet mine, he’s crying. He shakes his head with a look of regret and disappointment in his watery eyes, mouthing ‘don’t do it’ as I kneel at the mercy of the Buckleys like he, himself, has been doing for years now.
I am putting entirely too much faith in my archrival. I’m completely at his mercy. All he has to do is pull the trigger. But I’m confident, if he was going to, he would have. He’s trying to get his father to show himself so he can turn the gun on him.
That confidence begins to wane more with every second I spend on my knees, waiting. Am I wrong? Have I read this whole thing wrong? Has Neil snapped, yet again? His hands are awfully shaky. The kind of shaking a crazy person would do. Something in his eyes changes. His arms tighten. He aims the gun at my head and pulls the trigger.
CHAPTER 25
The deafening gunshot sen
ds a flurry of screams through the bus. I drop back and land against a seat. Their screams are still audible over the loud ringing in my ears. I’m not sure how to read the confused grimace on my father’s face. I can’t tell if he’s sad that Neil did it or disappointed in himself for allowing it to happen.
Or if he’s wondering why there’s no blood.
Smith sees it just as Mr. Buckley emerges.
“Fake,” he screams. “He didn’t–”
But Smith’s words get cut off by a sickly moan. He lunges forward, eyes unnaturally large, a horrified expression plastered on his face. He falls over and smacks the floor, not even attempting to catch himself, a hatchet lodged in the back of his skull. Blood begins oozing from around the rusty blade the second he hits the floor.
Felecia. She’s standing a few feet from the emergency door. She must have launched it through the broken window. God I love her.
Mr. Buckley ducks behind his seat, realizing what’s happening. He just got double crossed by his most loyal subject. Neil manages to let off a shot before his dad can retreat back into hiding.
“Argh!” Now that’s how a man screams.
Blood squirts from Buckley’s hand. He pulls it off the seat in front of him where it was exposed, blood dribbling down the black vinyl. Neil just shot his father. The son of a bitch actually did it.
Buckley’s gun hits the floor. He’s unarmed. Wait, no, not unarmed. He’s got weapons hidden on him, at least one on his ankle.
Neil pats me on the back before stepping over my injured father. He keeps the gun on his dad, knowing he’s got more concealed. Who knows Mr. Buckley better than his own son?
“Don’t move.” Neil’s voice is more commanding than I’d expected, given the circumstances. He sounds, well, intimidating. “Gun by your foot, give it to me. The one on your back too.”
“What in god’s name is wrong with you?” he hisses through gritted teeth. “Jesus Christ son, shoot Britton. Do it now. You’re missing your chance.”
“O’Connor,” Neil barks, “the zip ties. Hansen, get Smith’s body out of here. Blake, is Sanders alive?”
“Alive, yeah, but he’s not doing so good. Neil, what the fuck is going on? I thought she was dead.” He points at Felecia as she helps the jock I don’t recognize remove her handy work, something Hansen.
“Noah,” she yells through the window, “are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” I yell back, getting to my feet.
“Alright everybody, listen up,” Neil commands in a voice that almost makes him sound like he’s in control. “I’m in charge now. What I say goes and anyone who questions it is gone. That includes you Britton,” he says while he and the chunky O’Connor kid tie up Mr. Buckley. “In fact, you and me are gonna have a little chat. Off the bus, now. Someone get his hands bound,” he says, stepping over my miserable excuse for a father.
We stop on the steps where we’ll be shielded from prying ears. I think I know what he’s doing but I can’t be completely sure until–
“Noah, what the fuck do we do?” he whispers in a high pitched panic, his tough guy act gone. “No evac center? They were right. What do we do now? I doubt the bus will even run and if it does, our driver’s been shot. Half the people on here need medical attention. Where do we go? I don’t know what to do.”
“I don’t either. All those gunshots, it’s only a matter of time before they come swarming. Every dead thing on Main Street probably heard us. The smell of the smoke will throw them off but not for long.”
“Should we go to that Rancho place he was talking about?”
“I don’t know. Give me a few minutes, let me check on everyone, see what’s going on.”
“Okay, but Noah, whatever you do, don’t say anything to them, the orders have to come through me or they’re never gonna listen. I just shot my dad for you, don’t let us down.”
He walks up the steps before I can thank him for not killing me. He’s right, most of the people on here will never take an order if it comes from my mouth, but if they think it’s Neil’s idea, they’ll follow him to the edge of the earth. And at the rate we’re going, they might just have to. If they’ve decided not to send help, it’s because they have no help to send. No evacuation center is worse than it sounds, no evacuation center means no hope.
I step off the bus and find myself in Caylee’s loving arms. And Felecia’s. Okay this is just awkward. They’re both hugging me. Is it the most incredible feeling in the world, yes, but it’s also the most confusing. What am I supposed to do? I do the only thing I can and wrap my arms around them both. This shouldn’t feel as right as it does.
“Noah,” Paul calls out to me, “we got the bullet out but I can’t stop the bleeding.”
The three of us rush to his side and kneel beside my crazy bus driver.
“Marty, you stubborn bastard, you should have just left me here.”
“Fuck that,” he grumbles. “Noah man, I’m losing a lot of blood here. You gotta cauterize the wound.”
“It’s not safe,” Paul says with a shake of his head, probably not the first time he’s said no to this idea.
“Do I look like I give a shit if it’s safe? If you don’t do it, I’m gonna bleed out and die anyway. Just give me something to bite down on. If I pass out, get me back on the bus and I’ll drive us out of here when I come to.”
“Marty, I don’t think it’s gonna run. I’m pretty sure bullets hit the engine. We don’t even have a front windshield anymore. And with the evacuation center cancelled, I don’t even know where we’d go.”
“I shouldn’t be saying this but Noah, they didn’t call off the rescue team at Shasta Lake, they moved it up. They’ll be there tomorrow morning.”
“What? So, okay, what was Buckley talking about then?”
“He heard the broadcast. He never planned on going to Shasta Lake. Told me to leave you guys behind, when I didn’t he started shooting. Not just me, the radio. He didn’t want anyone else hearing that transmission. He knew damn well what he was doing. Started talking about some nutcase’s religious compound on the other side of the mountains.”
“Wait wait wait, you’re saying, we can get out of here?”
“As long as we can get to Shasta Lake. Convoy of buses are on their way. I know I said we shouldn’t, but I don’t see any way around it anymore. My guess, they’re gonna squeeze everyone they can into Cheyenne Mountain.”
“That’s the one in Colorado, right?” Felecia asks. “The big government facility thingy, like a mile under some giant rocky mountain?”
“That’s the one. Designed to withstand a nuclear blast.”
“But can it withstand this?” I ask, unsure of NORAD’s zombie proofing capabilities, but knowing we have no choice.
“It sure as hell better. Let’s get this party started. Noah, don’t let my screams stop you. Doc, you ready?”
“I’m not a doctor,” Paul whimpers, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve only read about this, I can’t do it in real life.”
“Paul,” I say, holding his shoulders, “you have to. If you don’t, Marty dies. He dies, no one drives the bus to Shasta Lake. Then we all die. You know what you’re doing. You study this stuff for fun. You can do this. Kristen’s shot too, you’re probably gonna need to help her when we’re done here. Caylee’s ankle. My dad. My wrist. We need you. Everything you’ve ever done has led up to this. And you’re gonna do fine because we’re right here with you.”
“Okay. Okay,” he repeats, shaking his head. “Alright, we’re gonna need something metal we can heat up.”
“I’ll grab one of the swords,” I say, taking off for the bus. When I hear the commotion from inside, I move a little quicker.
What the hell is going on? Doug and Shane are holding Tyrone, pressing him against a seat so he can’t move. A couple kids from the back are rushing towards them, Hansen and some senior that I think plays in band. What are they doing? What am I missing here?
They pull Da
rius out of his seat, blood gushing down his swollen face. Oh my god, Tyrone beat the living shit out of him. That’s what’s going on here. I can’t say I blame him. What he pulled, taking the gun out of Tyrone’s hands, he had it coming. We should have known better than to let him sit with us, I knew we couldn’t trust him. It’s not something you think about when you’re dealing with all the bullshit we’re forced to in the world out there, we didn’t think about our world in here not being safe. We shouldn’t have to.
“Guys, come on,” I say calmly, reaching over to rest my hand on Tyrone’s back. “We’re gonna need you out here, now. Kristen, I got you,” I say, helping her to her feet. “Paul’s gonna look at your wound, see if there’s anything we can do.” I put her arm around my shoulder and lead her off the bus on wobbly feet. She’s getting weak. I’m not sure if it’s from blood loss, pain or the shock of everything she’s been through. Whatever it is, it can’t be good. “Shane, I need you to grab a sword, and go hold it over the fire until it’s red hot.”
“What? Why the hell–”
“So I can cauterize the bullet hole in Marty’s shoulder.”
“Oh man,” he mumbles, grasping the urgency of the situation we’re in.
“Tyrone, you good?” I yell over my shoulder while descending the steps with Kristen.
“Sorry, I couldn’t stop myself. When he said he wished you and me never made it back on the bus after the gas station, I lost it. He almost got us killed back there! What the fuck is he thinking?”
“I wish I knew, I think he’s just scared.”
“We’re all scared,” Kristen says with a trembling voice. “It doesn’t turn us into traitors. If you get your hands on him again, punch him a couple times for me.”
Blood Type Infected (Book 2): Fallen To The Flame Page 15