He was a Marine that Dave and I ran into while trying to gun down a mob infected. I have to say that if it were not for him, we may not have made it. So I will give him the props he deserves for that, we obviously needed the help.
There were at least twenty undead, and when you have to ensure a head shot with every one of them, it’s almost impossible to do that without some of them closing the distance between you and them.
Sure, we could have opened fire with automatics, but we would have been wasting precious ammo, we didn’t have an endless supply. So, I used my .22. Yes, I know it’s a puny gun, but a gun none the less and a .22 bullet to the brain has the same outcome as a larger caliber gun with less of a mess being sprayed about. No muss, no fuss. You don’t want any of the infected gunk on you, at all. Dave was using his M1911 pistol.
Preston appeared out of an alley and started picking off the ones closest to us.
For the first few minutes, he seemed to be an alright guy. He spoke with an air of quiet authority and seemed concerned for our safety, until he began telling us about his partner. His voice changed, and the look in his eyes went from intelligent and friendly, to distant and filled with quiet rage.
We quickly grew suspicious of him and immediately did not trust him not to kill us as well.
As we sat in an abandoned storehouse, gathered around the small fire built to give us an ample amount of light, the shadows of the flickering flames served to make his face look more sinister.
“I had a partner. Jan, I called him. Jan didn’t want to follow the commands we were given.”
Dave and I looked at each other and we didn’t have to speak, our psycho radar was spinning out of control.
“See, him being so uncooperative… he became part of the problem. He didn’t give a damn about the solution. So, I showed him how it’s supposed to be done.”
“How what is supposed to be done?” Dave asked.
“Well, I showed ole Jan how to follow orders. First, I shot the man of the house. I put the gun right between his eyes.” he said this while pulling his pistol from the holster and a turning it about in his hands.
“The wife and kids started screaming, so I wanted to make it quick for them, I fired my weapon and it didn’t go off. They all cried a little harder, and I think Jan pissed his self! Well, I fired again, and then I wasted no time putting slugs in the rest of them.”
He laughed and slapped his knee. He looked up at us with an evil smile.
“So, where’s Jan?” I asked cautiously, though I knew the answer. I just needed to know if my instincts were right.
“I shot him! What did you think I was going to do? He didn’t have the balls to be a real man, and take out the threat as we were told! He was standing back in the corner sniveling like a little cunt, he was.”
Dave and I both looked at him in shocked silence. I noticed that we both had our hands on our own weapons.
“What’s the matter with you two? They were infected, they just hadn’t changed yet. Don’t get all weird on me now. I saved your asses!” he said realizing we had taken a defensive stance.
I relaxed a little only to keep the peace and Dave followed my lead. I then as nicely as I possibly could, told him he needed to find another group, that we didn’t follow orders and if he thought that we were just going let him shoot us, he was wrong.
It still bothers me, if they had been infected; they would not have been worried for each other’s life.
He felt justified in killing them, and there’s something wrong in a person’s head when they can enjoy committing an act like that. After that, I decided that he was undercover twisted, but soon realized that he wasn’t trying to hide it at all.
Those people weren’t bothering anybody; they had every right to defend their selves and try to find their own way to survive.
I still believe that the government made the virus. They made the call to kill everyone else. Why not? It’s sickening and makes me wonder what else they were responsible for over the years. It pisses me off, I think that's why I keep going back to it but as I said before, I don't know what to think.
Getting back to Preston, he was rude, crass and bossy. Though we didn’t take orders from him, we just let him entertain himself by going along with it as long as it was a good plan. There would be an opportunity to get rid of him soon enough. We had hoped.
The morning of day two with Preston, Dave told him “We don’t trust you. If you even look at us so much as sideways, I will blow your brains out and feel no remorse, just as you did to your partner.”
Preston seemed to think about what Dave said for a moment, and then smiled and said we had nothing to worry about.
I think the only reason he didn’t try to kill us is because he was lonely, and maybe he thought he might’ve had a chance with me.
We found that he was great at planning an escape or attack when he was being serious.
But in the short week he’d been with us, we saw about five different personalities come out of him.
This guy changed emotions like you change underwear, and he behaved very immaturely at times, which did shock us the first time we had seen it, it was a complete personality switch, and it was on after that. Dave and I secretly nicknamed him Sybil.
Preston also thought he was God’s gift to women, and he wasn’t anywhere near as good looking as he thought he was. He was sort of slinky with dirt brown hair and beady little brown eyes that darted around all the time. You can’t trust a guy with shifty eyes.
Moving on, when we discovered Jillian and Angel, we had heard a single gunshot. It had been pretty quiet on the streets for a while and we hadn’t seen any other soldiers for quite a long time, so we assumed it was a civilian. And based on hearing only one shot, it’s most likely a suicide.
We stood looking at the house.
A small, beautiful Victorian style home, though not near as big as they usually are. That pretty little house belonged in a field with the nearest neighbor at two miles, not crammed in the middle of the one floor ranch style homes that dominated the road. It must have been custom built.
It was the only home on the block with the windows still intact, the most logical place to hide; I assumed that was where it came from……
FINDING JILLIAN
October 20, 2013
10:37 A.M.
“Are you sure this is where it came from?” Preston asked.
“No,” I said, “but we’re gonna search the house anyway. We need a place to rest and this looks like the best we’ve come across lately. Let’s go and see what’s up.”
It had been at least two days since any of us had sleep. I was just about ready to collapse from exhaustion. I walked on up to the porch and Preston and Dave followed me up.
“Alright, we’re gonna get in here and find out what’s going on, clear it out if need be and we’ll stay here for the rest of the day and head out tomorrow morning.”
I sighed loudly as Preston repeated what I had already pretty much said. He’s one of those guys that repeat everything he hears, adds something to it, and believes it was his idea.
Preston was hell bent on killing everything in sight.
So far he had shot a squirrel, a dog and three cats.
What an asshole, we didn't argue with him much because we knew he had a loose screw or two, though I did throw up an argument about the animals and he countered with the defense that they could possibly be carrying the virus as well. We couldn't know for sure so I let it go.
He was still trying to ‘follow orders’. We hadn’t run into any ‘live’ people in five days, so we never got the opportunity to keep him from murdering an innocent, I think he was a little intimidated by Dave, but wouldn’t admit it.
“If there are any people in there, Preston, you shoot one and I won’t give you the chance to shoot another.” Dave said.
“Well, you two were told the same thing. What makes you above the command? Nothing. When we get back to Base, you will probably be repriman
ded.”
Preston said as if he was telling us something we actually gave two shits and a fuck about, we could really care less, given the situation.
“Um... Preston, I don’t give a shit about your Base, and I have just two words for our command center, IF it even still exists. We haven’t heard from them in four days. How long has it been since you’ve heard from your people?”
He looked down at the ground without saying anything.
“Exactly,” I said and turned to Dave. “It was only one shot, I don’t think there’s anyone left alive.”
“Okay, Roland you kick in the door and Fraley you take the lead. I’ll bring up-”
“Let’s get this straight right now, Preston. I’m tired of playing the game your way. You don’t give me orders, and you don’t tell me what to do. You can ask me but I can’t guarantee I’ll do it. I don’t like you, and you’re lucky we let you follow us along. I don’t give a fuck if you are a Marine or not, which I’m suspecting you may not be…The one thing I’m sure of, is that you’re a fucking murderer.” Dave was not afraid of him in the least.
Preston sneered and opened his mouth to say something and I moved between them and put a hand on both of their chests pressing them back away from each other because they had gotten a little too close over the last few seconds.
“Now, that’s enough. We’re standing out in broad daylight and there’s infected walking around here somewhere. I’m tired and I know you guys are too. We could all use some rest. Let’s get on with it.” I said.
Though the both of us hated him with a passion at this point, this was no time to quarrel. They quieted and we let Preston lay out his little plan.
“Okay, as I was saying. Roland, kick the door. Fraley, take the lead and I’ll bring up the rear. Now, Go!”
Ignoring Preston, I walked up to the door and put my ear against it. I could hear the moans of the infected but it was sort of distant.
“I hear something, there’s at least three or more, possibly on the second floor. Let’s take it slow and quietly.” I tried the knob and it turned.
“What the fuck are you doing, Roland?! I said kick it, not make love to it!” Preston said loudly behind me.
“We want to be able to shut the door, asshole! And shut the fuck up.” I said and was getting a little pissed off myself now, so I flung the door open, took the lead and we rushed into the living room of the house with weapons aimed high.
I headed for the staircase directly ahead and climbed the first five stairs in one quick easy stride.
“UNITED STATES MARINES!” Preston shouted. Dumb Ass!
I looked back at him to say “Shut the fuck up!” and an Able Infected appeared at the top of the staircase and screeched. He bounded down the stairs towards me at an incredible speed, so fast I had no time to react and he nearly got hold of me. And I thank God for Dave.
The infected had been so close to me that I was a breath away from meeting my maker. Dave shot from behind me, tagged him right between the eyes and I flattened my body against the wall to let him tumble down past me and land at Dave’s feet.
“Thanks.” I told him.
“Anytime, thanks for taking lead. I was going to do it; I just wanted to give him shit about it. I hate him more every minute that goes by.”
Preston had already begun searching the first floor so Dave and I took the second floor. I was partially hoping that one would get him while we were otherwise occupied so we didn’t have to save him. I didn’t want to worry about finding him standing over me while I’m sleeping like he did the last time we were able to stop for a rest. I’m pretty sure I can guess what was on his mind.
We ascended the stairs and there was a room maybe ten feet from the top landing, the door was open and there were several more Infected than I thought and they had already begun their slow lumbering toward us.
We picked them off quickly. The only good thing about this situation is that they move pretty slowly, and I thanked the heavens that there were not anymore of the quicker breed of Infected.
The room wasn’t very big, with only a large dresser, a full size bed and end table. No lamp. The bed had been slept in the blanket was missing. There were water bottles full of cigarette butts that floated atop the surface of the remaining contents. I remember thinking how disgusting the water looked now brown and tainted from the tobacco.
I also thought that whoever it was at least had enough respect not to put them out on the floor, even though the owner would probably never be back to see it.
A crumpled washrag sat in the floor next to an overturned bowl of dirty water, (being overturned by the head of a zombie when it hit the floor and the water was now spreading about his head in a nasty bloody puddle) and a bar of soap. Through all that they were still concerned for their hygiene.
“Well there are eight of them here; there might be some up there though.” Dave said as he nodded his head toward the ladder extending from the ceiling, leading up to what I thought was crawl space, but it turned out that other than the slanting ceiling, you could actually stand up in the middle of the room and it was much bigger than what I thought.
The end table that should have been beside the bed had been moved to just under the hatch and a filthy jagged edged knife lay in the floor.
“That fucker on the stairs I killed,’ he said “that’s what he was doing. He was up there before he heard Prestons’ big mouth. I reckon there’s somebody up there.”
I didn’t want to go up first, so I said with a wink and a nudge forward with my elbow,
“You go first.”
“Okay, wait for my signal.”
I waited at the bottom as Dave went up through the hatch. I heard his footsteps as he searched through the room above.
“All clear, come on up.”
I climbed the ladder and stooped to pick up a cell phone that was close to the opening of the hatch. Dave continued on a little further into the attic.
I flipped the phone open and it was still working. The picture on the screen was of a smiling young couple, early thirties maybe, cheek to cheek and the ocean behind them. I recognized them from Eiler Street down in North Fort Myers.
I saw them when we had to go back and pick up two children. They were upset and trying to convince us to let the boys’ father go with them. I wish I would’ve done it; the kids may have had a better chance of surviving if we had. They weren’t even sick, they just took them because the mother was infected, and were afraid that the children would be as well.
I think maybe they pictured those sweet little innocent boys turning and being able to easily approach adults, thus attacking them and spreading the infection quicker. People (well, most people) see a child that looks hurt or distraught and they want to help. These days that is dangerous.
“Kate, Come here.” I walked over to where Dave was standing in the corner under the slant, and the bodies of the couple in the picture, were on the floor.
“Look at this,” I said and handed him the open phone “You remember them?”
I met these two during my post at Eiler Street.”
“Yea, me too. I told them to run. It’s a shame; I thought they’d make it.’ He looked at the picture and then at them.
“They’re unrecognizable now.” he said as he shut the phone and gave it back to me.
I put it in my inside jacket pocket. I don’t know why I wanted it then, but I’m glad I kept it, because the more I read of her story; the more I would have been tempted to go back up and get it. The pictures helped me visualize what she was writing. Jillian took several different pictures of Evan during the change and each one was worse than the last.
The male as I now know as Evan, was lying on his right side and his hands were bound behind his back, his feet were bound at the ankles. His body looked to be in a later stage of decomposition than hers. I figured he turned first since he was the one tied up. His face was a shattered mess.
The female now known as Jillian, was lying on her left s
ide facing him, and her face seemed to be in as bad a shape as his. There were bits of Evan’s brain matter clinging to her face, neck and upper chest region, but I really couldn’t tell what was hers and what was his, it was all sort of a mushy red and black mess, with specks of white bone, shards of teeth and ripped flesh in several places.
There were bites taken out of her right outer thigh and a small portion of her rib cage showing.
“Looks like the Abled cut the string and got in here. I hope she was already dead.” Dave said.
The gun is behind Evan’s head, the angle of the gun and her hand indicated her intent to kill them both with one shot.
I picked up the gun with a shirt that was lying in the floor. One bullet left in the chamber.
“It’s a .357. Good choice, looks like it did the job. “I said while laying the gun back down on the floor “She was already gone.”
I thought about keeping the gun but I was already carrying an MP5, a .22 caliber handgun, and a machete in a sling on my back.
I could easily trade it for my .22, but the gun had a something nasty sticking to it and I didn’t want to risk getting it on me.
“What’s this?” Preston asked as he walked up from behind us, kicked Jillian in the back and snickered. Her body remained stiff and only jumped forward a little with the impact.
He was being sneaky, we didn’t hear him approaching. He pulled his gun to shoot her but I put my hand on the barrel and shoved it away.
Dave stared at him with hard steely eyes. I thought he was going hit Preston but only dropped his head and focused his attention on something in the floor. I imagine so he could distract himself from what he really wanted to do.
The Last Days (Books I, II, & III) Page 8