The Hunt Chronicles (Book 2): Revelation

by Demers, J. D.

  I noted the location of the other scabs, and then my eyes fell on Chad. He was sitting twenty yards away in the middle of the clearing making a spear.

  I took aim at Chad, awaiting Fish’s signal. I felt a sense of calm as I moved my weapons sight over his head. His killer was dead, and soon, he would be put to rest.

  The clunking sound of the slide on Fish’s .45 echoed. Jean fell as the side of her head exploded in red and brown mist.

  Unsuppressed weapons fire soon exploded around me as Campbell and Dobson began to shoot at their targets.

  My eyes quickly focused back on Chad, who was starting to get up. I released six rounds, three of which hit him. The first two were body shots, but the last one caught him in the neck. He fell over before he was able to stand completely erect.

  Other scabs growled and wailed as the hail of fire continued.

  One of the beasts retreated towards the opposite tree line. I caught a flash of fire out of the corner of my eye, and the scab stumbled and then fell. Enrique emerged from behind a tree and shot it two times in the head with his rifle.

  “Move!” Fish shouted, and the four of us pressed forward. Boomer stayed close to my leg.

  All seven scabs were either dead or severely wounded, but even a hurt scab had the ability to continue fighting regardless of its injuries. Three were back on their feet in seconds.

  A spear was hurled our direction narrowly missing Campbell, who had ducked behind a large palmetto bush. Both Dobson and I converged on the creature. We had to hit the scab over ten times before it fell back from a round penetrating its skull.

  Enrique and Pitman were now in the fight.

  One of the scabs charged Pitman. The large man emptied his rifle into the beast, but it still came. Enrique, who was in the middle of changing magazines, saw this and unsheathed his lawnmower blade.

  Before the scab was five feet away from Pitman, Enrique flanked it and hacked the creature’s head off in one swipe.

  Another scab had charged Dobson, and Campbell pivoted to cover him.

  Boomer barked ferociously. I spun to see Chad about to leap to my right, toward Fish.

  Why isn’t Fish firing? I thought. I moved to have a better angle.

  Fish was wobbling forward, as if his legs had refused to give up. His gun arm, however, was lowered and his head was slightly askew, as if he were about to pass out. Fish teetered to the side and fell to the ground.

  Chad had landed just a few feet from Fish and was raising his spear.

  “Boomer, go!” I shouted as I released another volley of bullets at Chad.

  Sand danced around my old friend and he dodged for cover.

  Boomer read Chad’s motion and leapt on him, tearing into his shoulder.

  Chad flipped over and over, sending him and Boomer into a crocodile death roll.

  I was running forward before I realized it. Shooting at Chad was impossible with Boomer in the way.

  I was only four feet away when Chad threw Boomer across the clearing.

  I aimed and shot Chad in the gut as he rose to meet me. The impact only slightly affected his momentum, though, and he grabbed my rifle.

  My finger pulled uselessly on the trigger, and I realized the bolt was locked back. I was out of ammunition.

  He yanked hard on the rifle, pulling me past him. I crashed face first into the ground as the sling popped and broke from the stress.

  I quickly rolled over and saw Chad wielding my rifle like a bat. He swung hard toward my head. I crossed my arms in front of me as the rifle smashed down. I heard a crack from my forearm and a gut wrenching pain shot from my pinky to my shoulder.

  My eyes fluttered open as I battled the agony. Chad was lifting the rifle again. Suddenly, he was thrown forward and over me. Boomer had pounced on his back. The hundred pound dog’s weight and momentum sent Chad hurtling to the ground behind me.

  I scrambled to my feet, favoring my injured arm.

  Boomer was tearing at the back of Chad’s neck as the scab wailed in frustration.

  I wrenched my pistol free from its harness.

  “Boomer!” I screamed, but he didn’t seem to hear me. Boomer was in bloodlust.

  Chad wailed as Boomer bit and tore deeper into the back of his neck. There was a sickening crack as the canine snapped the scab’s spine, and Chad’s body went limp.

  “Boomer!” I yelled again. The canine backed away. He was pacing back and forth on the other side of Chad, as if ready to pounce again if need be.

  I walked up to Chad, gritting through the pain.

  He was lying face down, but his jaw was twitching and snapping at Boomer.

  Boomer had torn the skin and most of the muscle from Chad’s neck. A portion of his skull was exposed. His neck was broken but he was still alive.

  Blood pooled in the sand around Chad’s body. Even a scab couldn’t survive these injuries, but he could still reanimate as a zombie. I wasn’t going to let that happen.

  I stood near Chad’s head and aimed my pistol at his temple.

  “Goodbye, friend,” I whispered, and shot Chad, ending his turmoil.

  Fish was lying a few feet away, and I stumbled toward him. I crashed to my knees next to Fish and checked to see if he was breathing.

  “Is he alive?” Pitman asked, jogging over to me.

  I felt light breath coming from Fish’s nose. It wasn’t strong, but it was there.

  “Barely,” I grimaced, wincing from my own injuries.

  I examined my forearm. Just below the elbow, a huge purplish red area was starting to swell.

  “I-I think my arm is broken,” I groaned.

  Pitman took a quick look, causing me to cry out in pain as he touched it.

  “Yeah, it’s broken alright.” He smirked, “Are you just trying to avoid that ass whoopin’ I owe you?”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” I said, clenching my teeth together.

  Everyone had gathered near us, except Campbell. I looked over at the cross where Gardner was hanging and saw Campbell with his hand on the now zombified man. He was saying something, though I never found out what it was.

  My heart went out to Campbell. Since I had met him, he had lost everyone in his original command. First PFC Vanerka was killed defending Ace Hardware. Then Specialist Combs, Campbell’s right hand man, had been mortally wounded during that same attack, and later died from his injuries. PFC Gonzales died less than a week ago, and Cecil had murdered Private Trent and Private Manns that very day.

  Now Campbell stood next to the last of his soldiers. The Captain shook his head and backed away from the zombie. He raised his rifle and shot Gardner twice in the head.

  “We need to move,” Dobson said, examining Fish. “Not sure how much longer Fish has.”

  “I’ll carry him,” Pitman said. He slung his rifle behind him and then gently picked Fish up, and cradled him over his shoulder.

  “Are you going to make it?” Campbell asked as he approached me.

  “Yes, sir,” I answered, and picked up my gear.

  “Let’s get moving,” Dobson said, taking the lead.

  Campbell retrieved Fish’s radio and called back to the camp. By the time we made it to the beach, Jenna and Daniel had pulled up in another boat.

  Daniel began to work feverishly on Fish, immediately inserting an IV and examining the wound on Fish’s shoulder. He radioed Rich on the trip back, relaying the seriousness of the former Green Beret’s injuries.

  By the time we made it to Camp Holly, Rich had the infirmary prepped for surgery. Daniel and Doctor Tripp assisted Rich. Two hours later, they came out and told us Fish was stable.

  Rich made a cast for my arm and gave me four stitches on my scalp.

  Rich had worked tirelessly to keep Jada alive, and in the end, was successful. Rich was right, Private Manns had ripped her arm right out of its socket, but she had never been bitten.

  As far as Fish and Jada were concerned, Rich said the rest was up to them and their ability to heal themselves. He would do
everything he could, but nature would have to take its course.

  The rest of the day was somber.

  All this death… all this damage to our group…

  I struggled as I thought about it. Not just because we lost so many people to Cecil and his quest for revenge, but the reason behind it. Cecil was right. We did kill his friends and nephew, though indirectly. His brother’s death, on the other hand, that was all on me and Fish.

  Was he wrong? I didn’t know.

  Later, when I would tell others about Cecil and what transpired between us and, most importantly, his perspective on the tragic events that lead to our final encounter, they would blow it off, as if Cecil was just plain evil. Cecil wasn’t evil. He was mad with grief and consumed with revenge.

  Karina and Jenna stayed with me that night and shared Fish’s bed.

  Boomer snored at my feet, as I mourned the loss of life we had suffered and the loss of life we had caused.

  Silent tears rolled down my face as night fell over the camp.

  Chapter 23

  Decisions and Farewell

  August 2nd

  Fish remained in a near comatose state over the next week.

  Preacher held a small ceremony for the people we had lost. Cecil’s name was purposefully left out of his speech. There was enough sorrow without bringing up his betrayal.

  DJ and Campbell led multiple runs into the city with Major Dobson to secure equipment for the long journey to Hoover Dam.

  There were no more making runs into the city for me. No more guard duty shifts. And because of my broken arm, even chores around Camp Holly were limited. Major Dobson had determined that I was to do nothing that would even remotely put my life at risk.

  So over that week, I was reduced to weapon maintenance and food preparation. Even those two tasks were a struggle with a broken arm. The pain came and went, but the real dilemma was the cast. It was bulky and the weight threw me off as I worked.

  The entire time I was under the watchful eye of Sergeant Pitman. He was not about to let me out of his sight again. He even shadowed me when I used the restroom or bathed.

  Karina kept me company, which annoyed Pitman. Jenna would also stop by to see me from time to time.

  The day finally came when Fish was released from the infirmary.

  “How ya doin, kid?” Fish asked. He was walking at a slow pace, using a cane for balance.

  “Okay. My arm hardly hurts.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” he said.

  “I’m okay,” I said reassuringly.

  “Good. Where’s Campbell?”

  I shrugged, “I think he and Dobson are on another run. They’ve been picking up a lot of stuff for the trip.”

  “I’m shocked the Major hasn’t already tried to leave,” Fish scoffed.

  “Oh, he wanted to,” Pitman interjected from behind us.

  “Then why hasn’t he?” Fish asked, half turning to look at Pitman.

  “We’re waiting to reestablish communication with Colonel Forester,” Pitman replied. “Tom has been trying to get the comms up for the past few days. No doubt that once we get them up and running, we’ll be ordered to move out.”

  Tom, the engineer that made the voyage with Major Dobson, had been working feverishly to repair the damage Cecil had caused to our radios. It was more extensive than we thought.

  “Hmm,” Fish contemplated. “What does the Captain have to say about you guys leaving?”

  “The Captain doesn’t really have a say,” Pitman returned.

  We approached the door to the shack.

  “Pitman, stay outside and protect us from any rodents that want to kidnap the boy wonder here,” Fish snarled as I opened the door.

  “My orders—”

  I smiled at the large man. “Pitman, there’s only one way in and out of here. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Pitman grumbled, but he grabbed a stool and sat just outside the building.

  I looked out into the courtyard and saw Karina walking the fence line with Boomer next to her. With the loss of manpower, she was pulling more guard duty shifts and I was happy to lend Boomer to her while she did.

  The door shut behind me as I entered the shack.

  Fish was struggling to sit on his bed, and I rushed over to help him.

  “Get off me,” he protested. “I’m not an invalid.”

  I backed away. “Sorry.”

  Fish let out a sharp grunt as he hit the mattress. He pointed to his duffle bag.

  “If you want to help me, get me my flask.”

  I decided not to argue and did as he ordered.

  “So what do you think about this trip to Hoover Dam?” Fish asked after a gulp.

  “I think I have to go.” I said as I sat down on my own bunk.

  “Of course you need to go, I’m just wondering who Dobson thinks he is going to take on this crusade.” Fish took another pull from the flask and set it down.

  “I’ve heard rumors that the Major is going to want to take some of our people with him,” I told him. “But truthfully, that’s just talk around camp. Who really knows? The Captain hasn’t spoken to me for more than five minutes since we stopped Cecil.”

  Fish winced painfully as he lay back in his bed.

  “Politics…” he grumbled.

  “Yeah,” I agreed.

  Fish closed his eyes and let out a breath. “By the way, kid, thanks for saving my ass out there. Campbell stopped by this morning and told me what you did.”

  “I owed you,” I said, and then grinned. “Guess that makes us even.”

  “Kid,” Fish said gruffly, “your math sucks.”

  ***

  Campbell and Dobson returned a few hours later from their run. I had just finished cleaning a half a dozen rifles. Pitman was walking me back to check on Fish when I saw Campbell leaving the shack.

  “Christian,” Campbell nodded and continued walking away.

  I wanted to stop him and ask a list of questions I had been forming in my head, but decided not to. Campbell had changed over the past week. Losing every person in his command hit him pretty hard. He seemed unapproachable.

  Pitman elected to stay outside again, mentioning how cramped our shack was.

  “Hey Fish,” I said after closing the door behind me. Karina was on my bed with Boomer’s head laying in her lap.

  “It’s bad enough I have to deal with your dog, but now this runt won’t leave me alone,” Fish grumbled. He was sitting in a chair changing the bandage on his shoulder.

  Boomer jumped off the bed and greeted me.

  “Sooorrry,” Karina said sarcastically. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you and the Captain.”

  “We were done talking anyways. Still, you just can’t barge in here.” Fish winced as he pulled a blood soaked bandage off his scab.

  “Christian said I can come by any time I want,” Karina shot back.

  “Christian is a dumbass. What he says don’t mean shit in my house,” Fish countered.

  I smiled as the two went back and forth.

  “What did Campbell want?” I asked, intercepting Karina before she could retort.

  Fish poured some peroxide on a gauze pad as grimaced and he wiped around the stitches. “He says we’re meeting tonight. Tom got the radio working. Dobson has been chatting with Hoover Dam since they got back.”

  “Am I going to be at this meeting?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Pretty much you and everyone else that is relevant.” Fish finished bandaging his shoulder and grabbed his cane.

  “Guess I get to find out my fate then, huh?” I asked dryly. It wasn’t the idea of me leaving that left me sour, it was that I had not been given a say in anything.

  “You could say that,” Fish answered.

  I probed Fish for more answers, but he claimed he didn’t have any.

  Hours later, we were sitting around the campfire in the courtyard. There were more than a dozen people there.

  “Alright everyone,” Dobson started, inte
rrupting random conversations, “I’ve been in contact with Colonel Forester at Hoover Dam. He says getting Christian there as expediently as possible is our first priority.”

  “Ours?” DJ said. “You mean yours.”

  “DJ,” Campbell said softly, and the big man backed down. Campbell raised his hand to Dobson to continue.

  Dobson grimaced. “The Colonel requests that Camp Holly send four volunteers with us to complete this journey. It’s going to be a rough ride, and we could use some good people. I’ve comprised a list of personnel that would be a good fit—”

  “Am I on that list?” Campbell interrupted.

  Dobson pursed his lips. “No, Captain. From my understanding, Camp Holly is here because of your leadership. They need you here.”

  Campbell was about to argue, but Preacher spoke up first.

  “Major, what is the rush? Christian is still hurt.” Preacher turned to Rich. “Shouldn’t Christian heal before he makes such a dangerous journey?”

  “Christian will be fine,” Dobson said before Rich could answer. “Besides, time is an issue.”

  “Why is that?” DJ asked. He was sitting on a bench with his wife at his side.

  Doctor Tripp, who had been sitting on a log, stood up. “Because we don’t know if the virus is going to mutate again. We are fighting a clock that we can’t read. The sooner we get Christian to Hoover Dam, the better chance we have of creating a vaccine before any sort of mutation occurs.”

  “Why can’t we just do it here?” I asked.

  Doctor Tripp held her arms out and sneered, “Look at this place. It’s not exactly set up for what we need. Besides, I need other virologists, doctors, scientists.”

  “You have Rich,” Fish argued. “He’s better than any doctor I’ve ever had.”

  Rich chuckled. “Thank you for the confidence Fish, but I have to agree with Doctor Tripp. Vaccines are not produced overnight. They can take months or years to develop, and that is with teams of experts.”

  Campbell cleared his throat, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Major, I understand your rush to leave, but we have to think of the bigger picture. You need the best people you can get. DJ, Fish and I have discussed the matter.”

  “This isn’t up to you, Captain,” Dobson said irritably.