“I’m not rescuing them,” Jillian said, proposing a counteroffer.
“No one’s asking you to,” Gracine said, touching her arm in an attempt to comfort her after their ordeal.
A gunshot rang through the air, and Jillian actually felt the bullet pass dangerously close to her left shoulder as she whirled to see who fired the gun. Pulling her own firearm from behind her as she turned, a rather natural reaction by this time, Jillian couldn’t believe a woman was crossing the yard, heading directly for her. Holding the gun outright with a stiff arm, Dark Lady stepped purposefully forward, directly toward Jillian.
“You murderous bitch,” Dark Lady sneered as she squeezed the trigger again, but Jillian had already evasively moved her torso to one side.
Her adversary wasn’t skilled with firearms, based on her stance and the way her right arm shook when she held her pistol outward.
Already gripping her firearm, Jillian took quick, precise aim and shot Dark Lady in the upper leg, downing her immediately. By now everyone else had their weapons drawn and aimed at the gypsy woman, forcing her to drop her own gun. Gracine moved forward, stepping on the gun before kicking it off to one side.
“I hope you’re happy,” Dark Lady said with a hateful look in her eyes, staring directly at Jillian.
“How are you not in that house?” Jillian questioned.
“I got out before you trapped the boys in there. Happy?”
“No,” Jillian answered honestly. “There is no happiness in this world, but I would’ve been content if I’d never seen you and your people again.”
She turned to the others.
“You can go,” she said, looking to each of them. “I’ve got this.”
Gracine raised an eyebrow, questioning Jillian’s decision to go solo a second time.
“I’m good,” Jillian promised, prompting Gracine to lead the others away as they piled into a vehicle and slowly started down the road.
Dark Lady continued to grimace in pain as she remained on the ground, fighting through the agony to look Jillian in the eye.
“Do what you want with me and finish it.”
“I wish you’d given my friend a choice,” Jillian said, kneeling down with the gun in one hand. “Juan didn’t want to die, but you let your boys have fun with him. How did you put it? Like cats playing with a mouse?”
“You’ll understand someday,” Dark Lady said, her eyes softening just a bit to convey the truth in her voice. “When you lose enough people, you’ll do whatever it takes to keep the rest alive.”
“I’ve lost more than you know, lady.”
“And yet you fight for a ghost town with nothing left to offer.”
“This was my home,” Jillian stated sternly. “You people came in and you ransacked it, you killed my friend, and you’ve left me with the memory of your worker molesting a little girl.”
“There was no proof,” Dark Lady said, trying to refute the words of the media, the police, and the court system.
“And there’s no helping you.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I can’t change you when you defend murderers and pedophiles.”
Both of them locked eyes for a moment, neither yielding their position. Finally, Jillian stood and walked to the front door of the house, looked to Dark Lady one last time, seeing no change in the woman’s harsh demeanor, and opened the storm door. From there, she turned the knob to the front door, shoved it inward, and stood to one side to await the inevitable.
Something inside the house preoccupied the undead until the moment they saw light streaming through the front room. Following the beacon, they poured through the front door, not seeing Jillian, who stood safely behind the storm door as they locked their pale eyes on Dark Lady. Her cold expression quickly turned to terror at the thought of being devoured by the legion her own sister chose to join over a month ago.
“No!” she screamed as the undead drew close. “You bitch! Save me!”
Dark Lady attempted to stand with her injured leg, but collapsed quickly. She clawed at the ground, trying to crawl away from the danger, but even the lethargic pace of the undead allowed them to catch up within seconds. The first few fell to their knees, sinking their teeth into her arms and neck, causing her to wail enough that even Jillian felt some semblance of pity for her.
Within a matter of seconds, the undead pulled entrails from their victim, munching on them like ravenous cavemen delving into raw fish. Their hands and forearms appeared covered in blood, droplets falling to the ground, or onto their victim. They bit into parts of Dark Lady’s body that looked agonizing enough to force Jillian to turn the other way momentarily. The woman’s screams went on for quite some time as more undead piled atop her like a comedic football video where all of the defensive players keep jumping on the downed ball carrier.
When the screams finally stopped, Jillian began moving away from the house, knowing her movement would catch the attention of the undead. A single zombie emerged from the house, immediately staggering after her, but Jillian drew her gun and fired into its skull. Their numbers were diminished by Dark Lady’s people, and Jillian knew she could handle the small cluster of undead if her gun didn’t fail her.
One by one, the zombies stood from Dark Lady’s corpse, and Jillian put them down, feeling overwhelmed by the recent emotions stemming from multiple losses. Metzger’s departure, her father’s death, and Vazquez’s murder all ran through her mind as she shot them one by one. Two undead remained when her firearm ran out of ammunition, and for a fleeting second, she wondered if allowing one of them to bite her might remove her pain. She remembered the agony Albert and others endured as their lives faded away, and Jillian chose to reload her gun when she heard a gunshot from behind her. One of the undead fell at her feet, its pale eyes looking permanently at the house where it had just exited.
Coming to her aid, the group rallied around Jillian, finishing off the last of the undead before Driscoll walked up to the house and shut the door, essentially imprisoning the dead and any survivors from Dark Lady’s camp who might still be alive.
“We got you,” Gracine said, her expression indicating she understood the dark place Jillian’s mind traveled to just seconds before the group arrived.
“No matter where we go, there’s only pain and disappointment waiting for us.”
“I know,” Gracine said, pulling her into a hug. “We can’t stay here. It’s not good for you.”
Jillian nodded, knowing her friend spoke the truth.
“I have nothing left to search for,” she said. “Does anyone else?”
Everyone slowly shook their heads negatively.
“You need to check on him, don’t you?” Gracine asked, and Jillian immediately knew she spoke of Metzger.
“Is it unreasonable to think he might have changed his mind?”
“Living with those uptight assholes would probably change my mind.”
Jillian chuckled, feeling guilty immediately with so much carnage surrounding her, but the thought of seeing Metzger brightened her day.
“Yeah,” she said. “Let’s give Juan a proper burial. Then we head east.”
Twenty-Six
When Sutton left his group, he expected to track down his box truck with little issue, but Keppler proved a worthy adversary when it came to stealthy maneuvers.
Sutton searched for the man, backtracking several times after securing a truck as his personal ride. He finally realized Keppler wasn’t running from him, but rather playing a game of hide-and-seek where he’d stash the box truck and settle in somewhere, likely watching with delight as Sutton attempted to locate him.
Being left alone with his thoughts hadn’t proven beneficial, or healthy, for Sutton. Despite Buster’s companionship, he kept dwelling on Jillian’s father and the group he accidentally traveled with to South Hill. He didn�
��t hold himself responsible for the man’s death, or Vazquez’s death for that matter, but he wasn’t about to go crawling back to the group to ask for forgiveness. No one stuck up for him the first time, and Jillian made it clear she called the shots, at least in her hometown.
On a few different occasions, Sutton spotted his box truck on the other side of divided roads where he couldn’t easily turn around, and by the time he did, Keppler had always found a place to hide. Sutton couldn’t believe the man knew how to hide a box truck so well, and he realized the lieutenant simply wanted to taunt him, but he quickly grew tired of the game.
When Sutton finally did learn Keppler’s location, or at least the location of his box truck, Sutton scouted the area where the man parked it. An old, small church with stained glass windows appeared mostly intact in an area just outside of a nearby town. A few houses dotted the surrounding area, and the undead weren’t much of a factor. Sutton cleared one of the nearby houses of three undead and decided to keep watch over his truck.
Approaching it might give Keppler what he wanted, and spring some sort of trap, so Sutton decided to simply wait the man out and take him by surprise. The chimney along the far side of the church produced smoke, which indicated Keppler might be cooking, staying warm, or drying his clothes. Sutton remained inside the house, trying to keep Buster calm when the dog simply wanted to run around outside, get some exercise, and sniff out zombies.
“What’s his plan, Buster?” Sutton asked his dog, causing the pit bull to simply tilt his head sideways with a curious look.
Sutton’s thoughts occasionally returned to Jillian and the others, and he couldn’t entirely blame her for excommunicating him. Several times over he brought trouble to the group, but he’d also saved their lives a few times. If he ever decided to reconcile with them, he needed to have any and all baggage out of the way, which included Keppler.
Buster eventually whimpered to go outside because he needed to relieve himself, and Sutton decided to use the rear door so they wouldn’t be visible to anyone else. Sutton grabbed the AR-15 he’d brought with him from South Hill, missing some of his other firearms. The box truck held a few interesting pieces, like the military sniper rifle with the night vision scope. It also contained food, camping supplies, sealed water, and batteries enough to last for months, possibly up to a year.
Monitoring the area while Buster squatted to deposit his previous day’s supper in the yard, Sutton strolled to the corner of the house, daring to peek around the side. He saw no activity from the church, causing him to wonder what kind of plan Keppler cooked up when the man could easily have been a state or two away from Virginia. The thought crossed his mind that the man might be using the sniper rifle with the night vision scope to monitor the nearby area, so Sutton didn’t linger.
Looking to the sky, he found dusk growing close, and decided he might take a closer look at Keppler’s setup under the cover of darkness. He returned to the house with Buster, opened a can of corned beef for dinner, and bided his time after that by starting a novel he’d found inside one of the house’s bedrooms. When daylight left the windows, and Sutton dared not light a candle or use a flashlight, he peered out the window, seeing no change across the road. Continuing to exercise caution, he exited through the back door again, taking Buster outside with him, but ordering the canine to stay at the house.
With the last of the setting sun behind him, and a campfire in the side yard at the church ahead, Sutton carefully walked forward, holding the AR-15 in a ready position, his eyes darting left and right. Suspecting a trap, Sutton figured Keppler knew he was across the street, as though that’s exactly where he wanted Sutton to be. His conscience told him he should have killed the lieutenant when he had the chance, instead of leaving the man’s fate to chance.
A moment later he neared the fire, but opted to look around the church first. All of the stained glass windows were high enough that Sutton wouldn’t be able to peer through them, even on tiptoes. Several plain windows lined the sides of the church along the ground, indicating egress from a basement, but Sutton saw no lights emerging from within.
Standing in front of the church momentarily, he waited for sound or movement, but nothing emerged from within. He stepped up the concrete stairs to the double wooden front doors, reaching for the lever handle doorknob on the right. Stopping just inches from touching it, Sutton hesitated, prepared to let the matter be, even if it cost him his box truck. He couldn’t resume looking for his sons if Keppler killed him or occupied more of his precious time. In his mind, the risk no longer outweighed the reward when he was confronted with reality and potential consequences.
Taking a step back down the stairs, his eyes still locked on the front doors, Sutton felt a piece of cold metal pressed against his right temple. A sideways glance revealed a sidearm like the one Keppler would have used before becoming a disgraced lieutenant.
“Gun down, please,” Keppler ordered more than requested. “It’s time for us to have a long chat.”
“Couldn’t you just shoot me?” Sutton asked, still not complying.
“I’d rather not. But I don’t want you shooting me, so gun down.”
Sutton knelt down, gently setting the rifle on the concrete walkway before slowly standing to look Keppler in the eye.
“Let’s go have a fireside chat,” Keppler suggested, not foolish enough to lower the pistol he held for one second.
Both men made their way over to the makeshift fire pit, sitting on the logs Keppler, or someone before him, placed there for just such a purpose. Neither said a word for about a minute as they sized one another up, Keppler loosening the grip on the gun. Sutton didn’t dare make a move, because the distance between them left the former soldier enough time to raise the weapon and squeeze the trigger.
“This is nice,” Keppler said as though thoroughly enjoying their one-sided fireside chat.
“What do you want from me?”
“You and I are so much alike,” Keppler said reflectively. “I really didn’t see it at first, but the more I see of you, the more I know we’re both survivors.”
“You killed a man in cold blood,” Sutton pointed out. “That’s not who I am.”
“But you’ve killed, haven’t you?” Keppler pressed, obviously taking a guess since he hadn’t witnessed any such action from Sutton.
Sutton said nothing, simply staring into the fire.
“I’ve always gotten things done,” Keppler stated. “After working around so many weak-minded fools it just got tiresome. You give people simple orders and they can’t even follow them, so you have to make examples of them.”
Sutton got the meaning of the words, because the man had executed the soldier who let Sutton get the slip on him and take back his box truck outside of Norfolk.
“This world is custom-made for us,” Keppler said. “You’re on your own again and you don’t need to be.”
“What are you suggesting?” Sutton asked, already suspecting what the man was leading up to.
“I’m suggesting we team up. It’s not safe out there alone.”
“What makes you think I’m alone?”
“Come on,” Keppler scoffed. “Either they kicked you out, or you left them for your precious truck. Either way, they aren’t taking your shit much longer.”
“How could I ever trust you?” Sutton asked, looking directly to the man. “The things you’ve done can’t exactly be forgiven.”
Now the former lieutenant laughed briefly.
“I could’ve killed you several times over,” he said, shaking his head. “When I took the truck, I wasn’t after your collection.”
“You just wanted me alone.”
“Talking some sense into you wasn’t possible while you were with those yuppies.”
“They’re better people than either of us.”
“I beg to differ,” Keppler said, his body stiffening at
the notion. “We’re the top of the food chain.”
Sutton contemplated his options, which didn’t seem numerous at the moment. He couldn’t envision a future where he scoured the country with a narcissistic murderer, but very few alternatives presented themselves.
“Where would we go?” Sutton inquired, feigning interest.
“Where do you want to go?”
“I have two sons,” Sutton said, not entirely certain why he told the truth. “I need to find them.”
Keppler’s face registered some confusion.
“Sons? And you haven’t looked for them sooner?”
“We did, but they weren’t at our family meeting place.”
“Meeting place?” Keppler asked with a furrowed eyebrow.
“We had a camp off the lake. The place was ravaged when we arrived, and my boys weren’t anywhere to be found.”
“Maybe you just had the wrong people helping you search. We can clear that place of the dead and leave some kind of marker if you think your boys are alive.”
“I feel like they’re alive,” Sutton said honestly, knowing he’d trained them to survive.
“Then let me help you with this,” Keppler said firmly, trying to persuade Sutton like he might with one of the young men under his command.
“You don’t need me,” Sutton countered. “Why are you so reluctant to fly solo? You know I’m straight, right?”
“As am I,” Keppler answered, appearing slightly insulted, if not angered.
“So what would we do on this adventure of ours?” Sutton asked. “Break into some camps and loot? Shoot people trying to keep order in a violent world? Maybe rape some women?”
“Now you’re just being insulting,” Keppler said, openly irritated. “For a man with no gun, that’s not your smartest move.”
The Undead Chronicles (Vol. 2): Darker Days Page 34