Buffey watched as Rickey sat himself in the cab of the engine and tried to distance himself from the swarm of undead that was bearing down on their position. Buffey ran back into the front of the engine and peered over the controls of the train as Ashleigh sat with Dakota. A puzzled look crossed Ashleigh’s face as she eyed Buffey intricately staring over the controls of the train. She laid down Dakota, who had fallen asleep finally, and stood up, beside her friend.
“What are you doing? You look like you want to get this thing started again?”
Buffey ignored the question posed by her friend and continued to move her eyes over the controls of the train. Ashleigh, sensing her cohort’s ignorance, bumped into her on purpose to get her attention.
“I don’t have time to explain, just go outside and listen, Ash. There is some bad shit comin’ and with or without the boys we are gonna have to get out of here in hurry.” A pang of fear hit Ashleigh as Buffey explained herself. Her eyes grew wide and she reluctantly stepped out of the cabin onto the walkway and immediately knew what Buffey was talking about.
They had company.
* * *
“I don’t think it is working, dude. They don’t seem to give a shit about us hollering down here. They probably got their own plans for us, and I hate to say it but it looks like we are not gonna live to brag about it.” Jamie looked up at the small cracks in the floor above him again as he spoke of their current plight to Joe and Balboa. Jamie was right, unfortunately. Bobby was strolling to them just above their heads, 9mm pistol in hand. He was ready to prove to his father that he wasn’t the only one who could take a life if necessary. Abraham had neglected to keep full faith in Bobby, using him as his personal errand boy for gathering what he needed for the “congregation” and had miscalculated his faith. Bobby was going to take care of business in his own way, Abraham be damned.
Bobby sauntered over to the latched door in the floor below him, grabbed the lid of the hatch, and flung it open. Much to the surprise of the three men below, he then jumped down into the hollowed out section of the floor below and aimed the 9mm at the first person that he saw, which happened to be Joe. The small amount of light that came into the area gave Joe enough to see what was going on. Balboa and Jamie both jumped to the aid of their friend and the three of them collectively stared down the barrel of the pistol that Bobby now held to them.
“I have about had it with this shit! Daddy don’t know what the fuck he’s talkin’ about and I’m tired of you three assholes talkin’ shit about my momma! Yeah, that’s right, I heard all the shit ya’ll was sayin’ a little while ago. I’m gonna get rid of you fuckers then I might just bump off the old man just for spite!” Bobby held up the 9mm and aimed directly at Joe’s head.
“Whoa there, big guy. I don’t know what the hell you people want with us, but I’m sure that we can work something out here. We got plenty of supplies, food, water, guns, if you would just…”
A single shot rang out and deafened the four men standing in the cellar. Joe flinched at the sound, ducked down, and instinctively grabbed his ears. He feverishly patted around on his head and chest to make sure that he was still alive. Once he was satisfied that he was, he peered around through the cellar. Three shadowy figures were standing over top of them. One of the figures was holding a handgun aimed down at the cellar, smoke still drifting out of the barrel.
Joe snapped to and looked at Bobby, still standing in place with the 9mm in his hand. Bobby teetered for a brief moment and fell, slumped on the earthen floor of the cellar. “Holy shit!” he finally managed to blurt out.
“You know it’s a full time job saving your sorry ass!” Chris shouted from above them.
“Damn I am glad to see you! I guess we’re even now.” Joe said, nervously chortling. Joe reached up to Chris’ outstretched hand and pulled himself up to his waiting comrades. Joe reached back down to aid in getting Balboa and Jamie pulled to safety as well. Once he had them hauled in, he took a gander at his surroundings finally. They had been kept hostage beneath the floorboards of an old church in the storm cellar. A trap door of sorts was fashioned to get down into it and a crudely made set of steps lay beside of the entrance. Joe gazed around the room they were in and brought his attention back to Chris and Ronnie when he noticed that Lucy was standing off a few feet away from them. He reached down and snatched the .45 from Chris’ holster, and in one swift motion grabbed Lucy and pressed the barrel of the pistol firmly under her chin.
“And what the FUCK are you doing here!” Joe growled as he pressed Lucy against the wall behind her.
Ronnie scrambled over and intervened as soon as he saw Joe raise the gun to Lucy’s chin. “Wait! Wait! Wait! She helped us! She’s the one who led us here!” Ronnie desperately tried to hold Joe at bay until he could plead his case as to why Lucy had accompanied them to his rescue.
Joe snapped his head to address Ronnie as he ran up. “I don’t give a shit what she’s done! If it wasn’t for her and her dumbass brother down there we wouldn’t be here to begin with!” Ronnie hung his head as Joe berated him. Joe’s anger dropped for a moment as he looked at Ronnie quizzically. Joe ran through the scenario in his mind and quickly realized what they had bargained for.
With his head still hung Ronnie replied. “We made a deal with her. If she led us to ya’ll and you weren’t hurt then we would take her with us.”
Joe now hung his own head and slowly dropped the .45 from Lucy’s chin and released his grip from her. He held the .45 in his right hand tightly and gritted his teeth. Lucy, sensing Joe’s discontent, stepped away and towards Ronnie. She moved behind him as if to indicate that Ronnie was going to protect her. Joe raised his head without raising the weapon to speak to Ronnie.
“I don’t give a shit what she has done for ya’ll. She is the sole reason that we are all stuck here, if it wasn’t for her I could be back with my family and…” Joe glanced around the dimly lit room. “Who the hell is watching the girls and the kids?”
“They can handle themselves, dude. You know they can,” Ronnie replied.
Joe’s face grew red with a combination of anger and concern. He knew that they could handle themselves, but also knew that he had unnecessarily put them at risk by being captured and held hostage. “Never mind that shit for now,” Joe looked to Lucy. “Where the hell did you assholes put all our gear and our Humvee?”
“All of your guns and stuff are still in the Humvee. It is parked out back behind of the church. We came in the side door so Daddy wouldn’t see us,” Lucy replied sheepishly, staring away and at the ground as she answered Joe.
“Yeah, God forbid someone should see it out front and steal it,” Joe replied sarcastically. He looked down to the .45 still in his hand and then to Chris. “I think I’ll just hang on to this until we get our stuff back. Where’s the exit to this shithouse?”
Before Lucy could answer him, Abraham appeared in the far doorway. “There is no leaving here, my faithful congregation.”
CHAPTER 11
The cacophony of sounds made by the approaching horde of undead made Buffey and Ashleigh’s task infinitely more difficult. Buffey scrambled about inside the cabin securing an M4, loading a mag, and stuffing her pocket with an extra magazine. Ashleigh, meanwhile, had wrapped Dakota in a makeshift papoose and secured him with one of the sleeping bags. The oblivious infant had begun nursing on a bottle and had managed to drift off to sleep despite the abysmal conditions he was surrounded by. Rickey was preparing for the undead assault as best he could as well. He had managed to steel himself up from his squatted position in the engine. He had grabbed the .22 – the only weapon he was able to really put to use – and had loaded a clip. He chambered the first round and went outside to where Buffey was standing on the railing of the train. Ashleigh joined her two counterparts on the railing of the train. Buffey looked longingly at Rick, standing with his rifle at the ready.
“You know how to use that, Rick?”
Rickey looked confidently at his mother. �
�Yeah! Daddy showed me how to use it and how to shoot it a long time ago. You guys didn’t ever let me use it because the guys were always here to shoot the zombies. I have to be the man for a little while now, mommy.”
Buffey’s eyes welled up with tears as Rickey spoke. He had to grow up much faster than she could have ever anticipated. She knew that he would not have an easy road ahead no matter what, but the fact that he was realizing his responsibilities at age 10 was a good sign that he would be able to survive in the new, dead world. Rickey smiled at Buffey in spite of himself.
“It will be just like killin’ the zombies on Left 4 Dead mommy!”
Buffey smiled at the macabre enthusiasm of her son. “That’s right baby and where do we aim for?”
Rick held up his rifle defiantly. “We shoot ‘em in the head!”
* * *
Even in the face of his current aggressor, Joe had to finally crack a smile. Abraham appearing in the doorway of their exit had not fazed him in the least. For the first time since his ordeal with the religious zealots, he had the upper hand against his foes. Joe stepped forward with the .45 still in his right hand. The rest of his group surrounded him, minus Lucy, and readied their weapons. Joe looked to his left and right, flanked by his comrades and turned his attention back to Abraham.
“I don’t think you understand, old man,” Joe raised his gun and pointed the business end of it at Abraham. “We are walking out of here, and there ain’t a damn thing you can do about it.” Joe slowly moved towards his foe and continued to speak. “See, we are not gonna be part of your goddamned congregation and I don’t give a shit what it takes, we are walking out that door.”
Abraham stared ahead as he stepped forward as he pulled the large wooden double doors fully open behind of him. His “congregation” was slowly shambling up behind him, obviously loosed from their bondage. Abraham moved forward slowly and opened his arms wide.
“You don’t seem to understand, my child, this is what has come to pass. The dead have risen and Christ is poised to make His return. I have gathered these souls to prove to him that I am to be by his side for the next thousand years. Only the whores and sinners will remain after the Second Coming and as far as I am concerned, you are in league with both!”
Abraham‘s face became beet red as he moved closer and closer towards the troupe of men. Joe, Chris, Ronnie, Jamie, and Balboa all stood shoulder to shoulder. The men inched backwards as Abraham swung the doors the rest of the way open and Abraham’s congregation moved as a group and shuffled forward.
“Oh shit. Fuck the old man, we got bigger problems than him,” Jamie said.
Balboa turned and stormed back to Lucy, who was equally terrified at the sight in front of her. Balboa grabbed her by the shoulders. “How else do we get out of here lady?”
Lucy began to cry and avoided the question. She hung her head and began a full-on sob. Balboa posed the question to her again, with more emphasis. “Listen, dammit! How the hell do we get out of this damn place?”
“The side door is the only other way out,” Lucy meekly replied. Balboa glanced over towards the side door that Chris, Ronnie, and Lucy had come in earlier. The zombies that Abraham had let loose before now stood between them and their easiest exit. Balboa let go of Lucy and looked back towards his friends, now in near full retreat from the undead that were now spilling out of the doorway in front of them.
“We are gonna have to do something we’re drawing a damn crowd here!” Jamie screamed.
Joe glanced around, looking for an easy escape. There was none to be found. He brought his attention back in front of him and the swarm of undead that were bearing down on them. “Fuck it! Kill ‘em all!” Joe opened fire on the herd of zombies in front of him, as Abraham stood motionless in the doorway. The rest of Joe’s crew followed suit and began a hail of gunfire against the horde of zombies that continued to spill out of the church. Chris raised his M249 and began firing in short bursts. Ronnie followed suit and began mowing down one after another, as they tried to abate the undead presence.
The dead seemed to be oblivious to him standing there, as they all teetered and shuffled around him, save for one. The zombie that had once been Abraham’s faithful and loving wife now approached him. Abraham sensed that one of his flock was getting close to him and he swung around to meet them face to face. His former wife of thirty years now stared in his face. All of the rage and frustration that had built up inside of Abraham immediately dissipated as he stared at his once-living betrothed. Abraham held open his arms and embraced his unholy union. Abraham’s wife opened her arms as well to embrace her former husband. She was set to give him a warm embrace when she grabbed him by the shoulders and gnashed at his face. Abraham, caught off guard, stumbled backwards the zombie that was his life partner falling on top of him.
“My beautiful lady, come with me to see the Lord! We are his chosen people! Come with me to…” His undead wife cut off Abraham as she bared her still glistening white teeth into Abraham’s throat. The zombie gnawed into his larynx as he tried in vain to speak, making only a sickeningly hollow gargling sound. She ripped loose his voice box, took her hands to the freshly made hole in his neck, and began tearing away what was left of his upper airway. Abraham lay there, only able to flail uselessly as she continued to tear away huge chunks of flesh from his neck and upper chest. Abraham finally stopped thrashing once she had reached his spine and grabbed hold of it, yanking a sizeable handful of his spine and vertebrae away, paralyzing him instantly.
The other undead that had been oblivious to his presence now converged on the bloody, mangled corpse that had been the lone human between Joe’s group and the door. The zombies tore away chunks of the former preacher as his dream of the New Resurrection died with him.
Ronnie and Chris continued to spatter gunfire in no particular order at the mass of ghouls that were still spilling past the corpse of Abraham, firing away at anything that moved in front of them. Jamie grabbed Ronnie’s 9mm from his holster and began to shoot at the singled out zombies that were making their way past the full-auto fire of the M249.
“We are gonna run out of ammo before these fuckers run out of reinforcements!” Joe screamed over the constant boom of gunfire. Joe dropped the clip out of his .45 and screamed at Chris to toss him another. Chris stopped the M249 and feverishly patted himself, desperately looking for another clip to the gun. He finally procured one from his pocket and tossed it at Joe.
“Last one, and I’m almost out on this thing too! We need to get the fuck out of here now!”
Balboa, unarmed and feeling useless helplessly darted around looking for an exit. His eyes fell on the lone window of the side room they were stuck inside. The fading light of the day trickled in through the musty, dirty window and revealed that there were indeed vertical bars across the outside of it. Balboa angrily grabbed a metal folding chair and began bashing the glass from out of the window. He then took the chair and began attempting to pry open the bars that held them captive in the dimly lit room. The chair bent helplessly as it was no match for the much stronger bars. Disgusted, he threw the chair aside and began prying on the bars with his bare hands. Broken glass crunched under his hands and blood trickled away from them as the bars began to give ever so slightly. Jamie noticed that he was trying in vain to get them out and ran over to assist.
“Shit! That’s it for me, I’m out!” Chris yelled as the last brass of 5.56mm ammo plinked onto the wooden floor amongst the pile of other spent casings and links. The group took in a collective deep breath as Chris signaled that he was out of ammo. Ronnie dropped down to one knee and stopped firing. The noticeable absence of the pounding noise that the machine gun made caused the entire group look to him. Joe fired off the last of the .45 rounds that he had and tucked the pistol in the waistband of his pants and ran over to where his comrade was. Ronnie doubled over in pain, as Joe neared him, obviously not all right. Ronnie slowly slid the machine gun away from him and reached into his pocket.
“Ronnie? Ronnie! Hey, what is wrong, brother? We gotta go!” Joe immediately noticed the expression of futility and sadness on his face. “What’s wrong did you get hit with a ricochet or something?” Joe watched as Ronnie slowly shook his head and pulled down the collar on his shirt, revealing a swollen, bloody patch on the top of his shoulder.
It was a bite mark.
Joe frowned at Ronnie as he contemplated how the bite had come to be. Ronnie forgot that Joe did not know about their trip into town to come after them, only that they were here now. Ronnie closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“Earlier in town, we got jumped by a couple of ‘em. Sorry bastards got me good.”
Joe was speechless. He was not prepared to lose a family member, especially one as close as Ronnie. They were as close as brothers were and relied upon one another like brothers as well. Joe knelt down and could not believe what he was being told. Ronnie’s plight did not need to be his own, as Joe grabbed Ronnie under the armpits and tried to raise him to his feet. Ronnie threw his shoulders away from Joe. He was not going anywhere despite Joe’s pleading. Chris, Balboa, and Jamie had made a large hole in the bars, forcing them apart just enough. Chris, being the skinniest, shoved his head and shoulders through the newly made hole in the window frame. Chris wiggled himself free and fell with a hard thud onto the ground outside the zombie-infested prison that had held the group. Chris jumped up and quickly surveyed his surroundings. The sunlight that was so prevalent all day now slowly waned away. Another hour, maybe hour and a half worth of daylight greeted him.
Six Feet From Hell: Books 1 - 3 Page 24