by W. A. R.
“Cory left me like this last night. My legs are weak. I was wondering if you could help me sit back down?” Brian asked far too politely. Justin narrowed his eyes at Brian, his features cruel and hateful. Brian furrowed his brows at the man, his own anger playing at the edges in reaction to Justin’s hesitance. “On second thought, maybe instead you could tell me why you hate me so damn much.” He suggested as Miles eased forward, his feet sliding silently against the carpet.
“Do I have to have any other reason than to simply hate you?” he asked and before he could get another word in Miles launched forward, shoving the ball of t-shirt he held in his hand into Justin’s mouth. He mumbled, surprised, as Miles jerked his head back and rammed the shard of glass into his ear. His screams were muffled by the shirt and he fell forward. As he did so, Miles released the t-shirt, leaving it in his mouth to fall with him and as soon as Justin hit the floor, Miles reared back and kicked him as hard as he could with his foot in the side of his head. His screams immediately stopped and Miles rushed forward, jerking the necklace from his neck and turning hurriedly to Brian. The key shook in his fingers as the girls stood, watching as Miles released Brian.
“Is he dead?” Chloe asked, her voice wavering and high, as if she were about to cry.
Miles leaned down and undid the chains on Brian’s feet. “Don’t know, don’t care. We need to go, now.” He growled and quickly, He let Brian surge forward to lead the way, stopping and grabbing the gun Justin kept on his person before going. Shelly was next to leave the room, and then Lacy, Chloe and finally Miles, who gripped one set of the chains in his hands. Cory was nowhere to be seen, but they didn’t stop to look for him. Instead they ran as fast as their weak legs would carry them through the front door and to the east, in the direction that Ryder had given them. They had no weapons now but the gun and the chain, and he hoped that they didn’t run into any problems.
His heart pounded against his ribcage, threatening to burst right out of his chest, and they ran. There was nothing but woods around them, and definitely no sign of any roads nearby. He panicked slightly; how far were they going to have to run before they reached the car? A sudden whistle started blowing behind them and they all faltered for just a brief second. Someone had found Justin’s body. They were alerting the other men that they had escaped. Miles swallowed. It was all going down right then and there.
“Run!” Miles growled harshly, watching as Chloe slowed, threatening to fall behind. He quickly rushed forward and grabbed her hand, surging her towards the others with him. The sky began to darken with an oncoming storm and he felt the foreshadowing of it like a bullet. Limbs and branches slapped against him, tearing at his skin and making him bleed. Chloe was gasping for air beside him and Lacy glanced over her shoulder at her weakening sister, worry etched on her face.
Suddenly, she launched forward, her foot catching on a tree root and she fell with a hard grunt. Miles thrust Chloe towards Shelly and Brian who had stopped immediately once they heard Lacy fall. Chloe whimpered and another loud whistle sounded loudly to their left. It was close; too close. Miles hurriedly reached down to grab Lacy while his eyes scoured the woods surrounding them for the perpetrator. They knew where they were, they had seen them running; there was no doubt about that at this point. A sudden gunshot sounded, followed by the sound of running feet and Lacy scrambled back to regain her balance, running. Miles stood and ran behind her, pushing a hand flat on her back and pushing her forward as Brian lowered his gun and turned, grabbing Shelly’s hand and pulling both her and Chloe forward. Miles didn’t look back to see what the sound of thudding on the ground was; he didn’t have to. Instead, he forced his tired limbs to continue, his lungs burning and his chest tightening. Everything was a blur of green and brown, and there was no distinguishing their surroundings. Another gunshot sounded and Miles watched in horror as Brian tumbled and fell with a cry of pain, dragging Shelly and Chloe with him. Miles heard leaves rustling to the right and he continued running, hurrying with Lacy to get them all up. Brian stood, an apparent flesh wound appearing from the blood on his shirt near his stomach. They all stood and raced forward when Miles heard the footsteps come closer ahead of him. Hadn’t the man just been behind them? Still, he was grateful that Shelly and Brian were farther ahead. The man was running and as he entered the thicket where they were, he caught Lacy’s hair and jerked her back, bringing his gun up and aiming it at Shelly. Lacy cried out against her own will and Brian urged Shelly and Chloe forward. Miles whipped up the chain and swung it as hard as he could towards the man. The heavy iron chain slapped against the man’s face and the audible sounds of bones crunching reached his ears as the man fell to the ground in pain he released Lacy and she again dashed to her feet, running forward without looking back. Shelly and Chloe were nowhere in sight now, and as Miles ran forward, gripping the chain, he saw Brian waiting for him.
“What in the hell are you doing?” he hissed at Brian, grabbing his shirt and beginning to drag him with him. Brian followed readily, his face set into a look of grim determination. His breathing was heavy and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. The trees whipped past them, and Miles could no longer see the girls. He began to panic and he forced himself to run faster. Where were they? He didn’t pay any attention to his aching lungs or his tight chest; he didn’t notice his hands tremble or his legs wobble from their apparent weakness. What he did notice, however, was the sound of distant and hurried footsteps racing their way and a feeble Brian beside him.
Another gunshot sounded and Miles felt a burning heat in his calf. He groaned and stumbled, feeling frustration and desperation growing inside of him. He met the ground hard, the impact jarring his knee but he never stopped. Instead he rolled quickly and launched back into action. Brian continued to run and Miles hurried to his feet, limping slightly at first before the adrenaline wiped the pain away. He didn’t look at anything other than Brian’s retreating form ahead of him. A road was coming into view a good distance ahead and he felt a surge of relief come over him. It was only brief, however, as he saw Biters coming into focus as well. They were everywhere, surging around him. Another gunshot sounded ahead of him and he knew Brian was fighting them off. Miles swallowed, his throat dry, and he searched frantically for where the gunshot had originated. He glanced all around him for something, anything, that could lead him back to where his people were. Finally, he heard Brian’s desperate cry and he rushed forward, finding him rolling around in the leaves with a Biter. The gun lay tossed to the side and Brian struggled with a decaying corpse. Miles sidestepped the gun and swung his chain, the chain wrapping around the Biter’s face. Quickly, he jerked back, grunting with the effort and the Biter’s head twisted and snapped off, rolling from the chain to the forest floor below. Miles stepped forward to grab Brian’s shirt and pull him up whenever he was suddenly met with flashes of both men and Biters coming at them through the gaps in the trees and limbs. Gunshots rang out repeatedly as they shot at the Biter’s around them. No, no, no…they were too close. They would either be shot or be breakfast. They needed to go find the girls. Miles pulled on Brian’s shirt, but Brian wouldn’t budge. Miles looked at him, fear evident in his eyes.
“Come on!” he urged Brian and Brian stood, stumbling a little before hitting Miles’s hands off of him. Miles stared at him in shock. “Brian! Let’s go!” he damn near shouted. Yells were heard from the men behind them, and Miles reached forward angrily to get a hold on Brian once again. Brian stepped back, his shoulders tense and his eyes determined.
“Remember what I said. Remember what you promised. Go find them.” And with that, his friend, his brother, was running back into the crossfire. He had planned this from the beginning, sacrificing himself, and Miles became furious; he began hurting. No, Miles thought, this couldn’t be happening; he wasn’t going to let this happen and quickly he began to run after him when he felt a hand grip his shoulder, stopping him and turning him back towards the road. Ryder.
“Come on!” he g
rowled, dragging Miles with him through the trees. Tears stung Miles’s eyes as he was forced towards the road and away from Brian, away from the men that were sure to either hurt him or kill him. He began struggling against Ryder whenever another pair of hands grabbed him and helped drag him along. He looked around, searching blindly for Shelly, Lacy, and Chloe. Where were they? He couldn’t talk, couldn’t do anything but struggle against the two men in a desperate attempt to go find them, to go find and save Brian. Ryder suddenly released him and the other man forced him down to his knees, Ryder leaving his side and rushing toward a jeep similar to the ones that appeared whenever they were taken hostage at the store. Everything was happening so fast. Those other men were sure to be on their trail within minutes. What were they going to do? Who was this man with Ryder? Everything inside of him was freezing. What in the hell was going on? He looked up at the road before him, cars placed precariously in the ditch, on the road around him. His breathing became heavy, his head and lungs aching, and he searched, the sounds of Brian giving up behind him scarring him forever more. His vision was blurry and everything seemed so far out of reach. The slight dehydration, the lack of use in his muscles, and the surrealism that surrounded him completely threw him off and he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t form any plan of escape further than where he was, and all he could focus on was finding the car Ryder had procured for them. And then he saw it, and his blood ran cold. The blue Camry sat in the middle of the road, with a bound, gagged, and unconscious Shelly, Lacy, and Chloe inside. There were three men rushing at them from around the car, a black truck cranked and parked behind it. They were moving so damned fast, their appearance within a second surprising him. He had absolutely no time to react, no time to fight or breath even a syllable as whenever he tried to stand he was forced back down and a blunt object hit him in the head. His head exploded and a white light blinded him. For a brief ten minutes they had been free; fighting for their lives, but free. Now they were hostage yet again.
“Sorry bud, Ryder’s call.”
And with that apology from an unknown speaker, he had no choice but to let the darkness overcome him and the ground rose up to meet him, his last thought a pounding reminder that he had failed once again.
Buddy opened his eyes against the bright rays of sunlight that filtered in through the blinds. His head throbbed with an intense pain and he suddenly felt his stomach roll. He bent over, finding that he was in a spare bedroom in the house, and he let loose the contents of his stomach. He heaved violently, the sensation horrible and yet he couldn’t stop from destroying the carpet at his feet. Finally, with great relief, he found his stomach empty of everything and he closed his eyes and fell back in a slump. When he did open his eyes, everything was fuzzy, and he gasped for breath looking dazedly around the room he was in. He was in a chair, Derek in another chair behind him, unconscious still. He furrowed his brows in confusion before everything came back to hit him. He remembered everything he had done, ranging from destroying a tree to attacking and even forcing himself on Amber. He groaned and leaned forward, feeling his hands bound behind his back. His muscles tightened and he mentally kicked himself, still uncertain. What had come over him and Derek? What had possessed them to act out as they had? The smell of his own vomit reached his nostrils and he bit back the urge to throw up once again. He needed to get out of there, talk to someone. How long had they been tied up?
“George?” he called out, startling Derek awake. It was then Derek’s turn, after a moment, to empty the contents of his stomach. Buddy groaned against the sound, feeling his pounding head and sensitive stomach as if nothing else in the world mattered. He sighed after a moment, Derek having lightened up on his heaving, and he called out once again for George. He refused to call for Amber…refused to have her come in and see him as he sat tied up as a danger to her. Still, he thought, thank God she had been the only one he had attacked. He swallowed thickly, realizing he could have very well hurt any one person in that house. Derek perked his head up then, remaining silent and fighting off the vertigo that came from waking up, listening as footsteps grew closer to the door.
The door suddenly swung open easily and Buddy had never been so happy to see George. He studied them for a long moment before speaking. “How are you guys feeling?” he asked them and Buddy waiting a minute before replying. If he didn’t know any better, he could see a hesitation in George’s eyes. Something was wrong and whatever it was lay heavily on his shoulders.
“Like shit on all levels. Can you let us go?” Derek asked plainly but George didn’t move. Instead he frowned and shifted his eyes to Buddy. Buddy didn’t miss the darkening of his eyes as the man stared at him and though Buddy wanted to turn away, he didn’t.
“What about you?” George asked and Buddy realized that he was only trying to ensure that they were both in their right minds before they released them.
Buddy shifted in his seat. “I feel like I have been hit by a ton of bricks. Seriously, can you let us out?” he asked and George never wavered. He appeared as if warring with something internally before finally stepping forward, his fingers pulling at the ends of the ropes to untie them. Buddy found this curious, and for a moment he questioned why the man didn’t just cut the ropes free but he didn’t ask. And as George finished releasing them, they stood and stretched, feeling significantly better. George didn’t question the evidence of their getting ill, and oddly enough that bothered Buddy. The smell of vomit yet again hit him and he grimaced. “I need to get out of here before I get sick again.” He said and George nodded, turning and leading the way from the room. “I think that room will just be off limits from now on.” He tried joking and though Derek laughed a little, George remained silent. He looked at George curiously. “So, who got put on watch last night since we were out of commission?” he asked feeling guilty. He brought a free hand up to rub the back of his neck.
George seemed uncomfortable about the question. “Amber and I took over. It was no problem.”
Buddy nodded and Derek winced, one hand clutching his tender abdomen. “What in the hell happened to us anyways?” he asked and George glanced between the two of them.
He sighed. “That broth you ate had an ivy in it that caused delirium and hallucinations. Katie used it as a means for leaving with no problems from anyone else.” He hesitated before casting a look at Buddy. “It is amazing no one got more hurt than they were.”
Derek furrowed his brow at George whenever he made this comment. “Who got hurt? I only remember killing a tree.” He laughed lightly, not realizing the weighted seriousness of the situation. George kept his eyes trained on Buddy as they made their way down the hall and to the living room.
“Amber’s leg was gashed open and a nail was stabbed in her arm. She’s fine though.” George turned from Buddy and advanced towards the kitchen, leaving the two men behind. Buddy felt the eyes of Bobby-Jean and Rick on him, as well as Cassie, Jacob, Elliot. Even Derek, who had gotten strangely quiet upon finding out someone had actually been hurt. And…Katie…where was Katie? Oh yes, he remembered sadly, George had said that she had left and that was how all of that had started. He swallowed. She was gone…she was really gone. He sighed and shifted on his feet, thinking of how unfathomable it was for her to just leave as she had. As he looked around at the uncertain faces before him, he did notice one missing. Amber was nowhere to be seen.
“How long were we out?” Derek finally asked, running a dark hand over his tired face.
Cassie shifted on her seat, her leg brushing Jacob’s as he spoke. “It’s the next morning. You guys were out for almost an entire day. You were in and out through some of it, but neither of you were in your right minds.”
Buddy shifted on his feet. Something was different about the living area…where were the weapons and medical equipment that had been place precariously around the place? “We were out for that long? Damn…” he groaned. Derek stepped forward and looked at Bobby-Jean.
“I’m so sorry…” he began but she
cut him off briskly. Buddy couldn’t help but smile at the woman.
“It was no fault of yours,” she paused, turning to Buddy. “Or yours. Katie spiked the food. I guess sometimes we just can’t trust our own people.”
Cassie interjected at this point. “Nana that is not true. She knew it wouldn’t kill them, she just…she wanted to leave and she saw an opportunity. She stood up for what she believed in. That’s admirable, even if everything else she did was wrong.”
Bobby-Jean scoffed but grinned a little at her granddaughter. “You sound too much like your mother and…your grandfather.” Her voice wavered the slightest. She turned back to Buddy and Derek. “Still, I fixed some ‘ivy free’ soup in there if y’all are hungry, which I am betting you are.” She motioned towards the kitchen before picking up her book from her lap.
Derek rubbed his stomach. “Don’t mind if I do.” He mumbled before racing towards the kitchen. Buddy blanched, his stomach still twisted from before, and he shook his head, shoving one hand into his pants pockets and his other he ran through his hair.
“I’m not feeling up to it yet.” Hesitation, because really, he didn’t want to ask, but he needed to. “Where’s Amber?”
Bobby-Jean looked up at him then, lifting a brow in challenge. “I’m assuming you are going to apologize to my daughter for trying to kill her?” she asked and her words heated him to his core, fueling a rage that he hadn’t even known was there. He wasn’t angry at Bobby-Jean; no, he was angry with himself and how everything had turned out.
“Yes ma’am. That is exactly what I plan on doing.” He said and George reappeared from the kitchen, glancing sidelong at Buddy. After a heavy moment, he nodded towards the back door.
“Come on. I’ll take you to her.” He said and for a moment he wondered if George thought he needed to play bodyguard to her. The thought bothered him and above all else it hurt him. Did she feel that way? Sure, things got out of hand, but she was still his friend…his closest friend…right? Still, even as nervousness gripped at him, he turned and followed George out of the house and onto the back porch. They were met with the whines and moans of Biters along the wall, their fingernails and bones scratching along the stone…fingernails on a chalkboard. Buddy winced as George led the way towards the barn, unaffected by the Biters. They couldn’t get in through their walls, which was a definite plus, but that only meant that it was leaving them trapped. They needed to take some out and soon. George whistled loudly, startling Buddy who grimaced against it and almost immediately, she appeared, racing from the door of the barn. Her eyes were wide and a nervous tension was evident in her face. Her eyes found George first.