“He’s gettin’ back up, Mark!” Annie yelled.
Mark turned around just in time to see Duke lunging at him with a knife in his hand. Mark grabbed the knife hand and pushed it to the side as Duke came at him, his force knocking them both backwards and into the caravan door. They hit it hard and it burst open, throwing them both down the steps and on to the dirt outside.
Dirt and dust flew into the air as they struggled. Duke climbed on top of Mark, stabbing the knife frantically down at him. Mark grabbed his knife hand and fought to hold it up, but Duke’s strength overpowered him. Seeing his own weakness, he curled his free hand into a fist and aimed it at Duke’s face. It connected with Duke’s mouth and the impact threw Duke to the side, landing in the dirt. Mark dragged himself to his feet.
Screams and yells bellowed all around them as the infected wreaked havoc on the camp-site. People ran, shrieking in fear as they were chased down by the hordes. So far, none had noticed the newcomers, but it was only a matter of time.
“Close the door!” Mark screamed at Annie, who stood in the doorway, unsure of what to do. Her face was a picture of sheer helplessness.
“Do it!” Mark screamed.
Annie grabbed the door and slammed it shut. Her face appeared at the window, next to Mitch, who was watching with his mouth wide open, not wanting to leave the safety of the caravan—even for his friend.
Duke had taken advantage of the moment and climbed to his feet. He swung a low punch at Mark and it hit him forcefully in the stomach, knocking him backwards. Duke found his knife on the ground and picked it up. He marched over to Mark—who was knelt on the ground, grasping his stomach—and sliced the knife at him. Mark looked up just in time—he fell backwards onto his rear and raised his legs up as the knife came cutting across them, slicing into the skin below his knees. Trying to ignore the searing heat in his legs, Mark kicked out at Duke, booting him square in the chest and sending him sprawling onto the ground.
Someone screamed close by them and Mark turned to see a man on the ground in the foetal position being bludgeoned to death by two infected women holding rocks. They laughed triumphantly every time blood spurted up from his body.
Duke roared in frustration—completely insane now—as he rushed towards Mark, the bloodlust in his eyes not far different from the infected. Hearing the cry, Mark dodged to the side sending Duke running into the side of the caravan. Duke roared again, spittle flying from his mouth, and he spun back around. His eyes twitched uncontrollably.
Mark knees grew weak as blood poured down his legs and his exhaustion making it difficult to catch his breath. He knelt on the floor, unable to hold himself up on his wounded legs.
“I’m going to cut your fucking throat!” Duke raged.
Duke rushed towards Mark and thrust his bloodied knife wildly at him, not caring where it hit. Mark tried to dodge left again but his legs were too weak to move and the knife caught the side of his stomach. He screamed as it sliced through his skin. A large patch of blood poured through his T-shirt and he tried to stop the bleeding with his hand.
Since Annie closed the door, Sarah had been frantically searching for the shotgun and found it under the bed. She ran to the door but Mitch moved in front of it, brandishing Duke’s pistol. He aimed it at her with shaking hands.
“I don’t think so,” he said, his voice quivering.
Sarah held up the shotgun to Mitch and they stood there for a few moments in a stand-off. “Put the gun down,” she said, trying to sound confident, but the weight of the gun was already pulling her hands down.
“Not likely,” Mitch said, and let out a laugh. “I knew you’d be fucking trouble the moment he brought you here. But not anymore.” He laughed loudly, courage building. “Today is Mitch’s day to shine.” He squeezed the trigger and the gun clicked. He looked at Sarah in surprise and pulled the trigger again and again, hearing nothing but more clicks.
Sarah’s shock wore off and she grinned at Mitch, who dropped his gun on the floor and held his hands up in the air in defeat.
“Please, don’t!” he begged, bursting into tears. “Please!”
“Fuck you.” With shaky hands Sarah squeezed the trigger, preparing herself for the recoil. Instead of the loud shot she was expecting, the gun made a small ‘click’. She pulled the trigger a few more times, but the gun just clicked again. Mitch cried in relief.
“Are you fucking serious?!” she shouted through gritted teeth. “Annie, how do you work this thing?!”
Outside, Duke whooped in triumph and walked confidently towards Mark, who was knelt on the ground, bleeding through his fingers.
“Aw, it's a shame Jacky-boy isn’t here to see this,” he said and tittered like a child. He gripped his knife handle tightly, his knuckles turning white. He waved it through the air madly as he spoke.
He towered over Mark and his eyes darkened. A cruel smile crept across his lips as he watched his victim’s blood drip onto the ground. He gripped his knife and jabbed it towards Mark’s throat. Mark flinched as he waited for the cold steel to reach his neck but instead, an ear-splitting boom filled the air.
Mark opened his eyes to see Duke's face frozen in surprise in front of him. They stared at each other for a few seconds—unsure of what happened—until Duke slumped to the ground. In the middle of his back was a large, scattered wound that mangled the flesh beneath it. Mark looked up towards the caravan and saw Sarah with shotgun in hand, a look of shock on her face. She ran to him, closely followed by Annie.
As they attended to Mark’s wounds, Mitch climbed out of the caravan and walked slowly to Duke's body. He stared at his oldest friend without emotion. A snarl came to his lips and he kicked Duke’s lifeless body with his foot. “You always got me into trouble, Nick, and you never had my back.”
Sarah looked at the wound on Mark's stomach. “Are you okay?”
“I'm fine, it's not as deep as it looks,” he groaned, getting to his feet. “I can’t believe you just shot someone.”
“I know, right? Took me a while to figure out how to use it, but we got there in the end,” Sarah said, proudly.
“You’re telling me,” Mark said and kissed her hard on the lips. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mean to rush you two but we’ve got serious fuckin’ problems,” Annie said from behind them.
The camp was littered with the dead and the infected were having a really good time with their bodies. Laughs and screams filled the night as they toyed with them—pulling on legs and arms like a Tug O’ War game.
“We've got to go now,” Mark said, watching the chaos.
Sarah looked at Mitch; only just realising he was still with them. Mitch backed away from her.
“Where is the Land Rover?” she yelled.
He pointed to a caravan close to the entrance to the yard. “We — we parked it behind there,” he whispered, in a squeaky, tremulous voice.
Sarah ran to Duke's lifeless body and searched his jean pockets for keys—they were still undone from earlier when he’d pulled them on in a hurry. Her skin crawled in revulsion remembering his sweaty weight on top of her. As she pulled them from his side pocket, someone screamed on the other side of camp. Infected were running out of the blazing caravans across from them, their naked skin bubbling and burning. They were coming straight for her.
“Go!” she screamed. “They've seen us!”
Sarah ran back to Mark's side and they heaved him towards the caravan where the car was parked. Annie held the shotgun reloaded it with a few shells in her pocket.
They stumbled over the dead bodies sprawled on the ground and burning debris from the fire. Another gas canister exploded behind them and some of the nearby infected let out blood-curdling screams of pain.
Mitch—lagging behind—saw that although some of their pursuers had been distracted by the new explosion, three of them were still in pursuit. “Help me!” Mitch shrieked madly, still looking behind him.
They reached the caravan quickly, avoiding the flames w
hich were intensifying by the second. Nearly all the caravans were ablaze now and the air was hot and filled with dark smoke, making it difficult to breath. They found the Land Rover, exactly where Mitch had said it was, and Sarah unlocked the door with trembling hands. They frantically pushed Mark into the backseat and Sarah jumped in next to him leaving Annie in front.
Mitch—still lagging behind and focused on his aggressors—was now ten feet away from the Land Rover. He heard the engine start up and turned back around in horror, realising they were leaving without him. In his distraction, he didn’t see the body beneath his feet in time and his leg twisted as made a last-minute attempted to leap over it. He let out a shrill screamed as he fell to the floor.
“My leg! I think it's broken!” Mitch cried, trying to pull himself off the ground. “Help me!”
The three infected were on him now and more joined them; attracted by Mitch’s wails. They laughed like children with awesome Christmas presents as they listened to his feminine screams for help. The three inside the Land Rover stopped what they were doing and watched morbidly, revving the engine ready to leave.
“Play!” an infected man yelled and pulled Mitch’s leg. Mitch yelped like a dog as the infected man bit a hole in the flesh. Blood poured from the wound and splashed all over the man’s face as he chewed on Mitch’s leg meat. “Play!” he said, spitting blood from his mouth.
One of the infected was a young woman that had tried desperately to escape but didn’t make it to the fence in time. Her clothes had burned off in the fire. She jumped on Mitch, grabbed his other leg and took a small bite from it, playfully mimicking her friend. Mitch let out a gurgled scream and tried to bat her away with his fists but this just made her laugh even more.
As the rest joined in, playfully nipping him all over his legs and arms, Mitch looked to the Land Rover helplessly, seeing the people inside watching him without sympathy. He knew they had no intention of helping him. Mitch understood then—he was being judged for his sins. Not by God, like the Bible had said, but by all the innocent people he had murdered and raped, a few of which were now chewing on his legs. He laughed to himself. It came back to bite me in the ass.
From the jeep, Annie saw Mitch look at her so she gave him the finger. They watched in silence as the group of infected ripped his fingers from his hand and chewed on them like sweets. One of the infected had picked up a gas canister and threw it at him; squashing his head like a watermelon. The infected jumped in circles in triumph at his accurate shot.
“That’s for Emily,” Sarah said, trying to push her turmoil out of her head. She ripped a piece of material from her vest and tied it around Mark's waist; the bleeding finally started to slow down. “We need to go back to town, there’s one last thing I need to do.”
Chapter 17
The drive back to Solitude was uneventful; the hordes of infected that now filled the roads were too distracted by the orange glow of the burning caravan site to pay them any notice. A few more heavy explosions came from the camp and the sky in their rear-view mirrors was a mixture of black and orange in the light of the approaching dawn. Smoke clouds swirled in the sky.
“This is his fault,” Sarah muttered, between quiet sobs, thinking of Emily’s horrific death.
“He’s dead now, baby. It’s over,” Mark said, stroking her face and wiping a tear away with his hand.
“Not him,” Sarah said quietly, looking out of the window, distracted by her thoughts.
Mark watched Sarah intently as she checked his wounds, which thankfully were a lot less serious that they looked. His knees would need a few stitches but were holding steady with the make-shift bandages from their shirts. The bleeding had altogether stopped and he was beginning to feel more like himself. He thought about telling Sarah there was no need to keep checking him over, but he liked the feeling of her hands on his skin—it comforted him.
Her quietness worried him, he knew that Jack was on her mind and it bothered him. He had noticed the difference in her attitude when he and Annie had gone to rescue her—she was colder now. Not towards him, but towards the situation. That nervous, self-conscious girl was gone. What had Jack done to her?
They pulled into the village. Without streetlights, the darkness gave the village an eerie feeling; the trees and rooftops were silhouetted by the glowing orange sky over the camp-site. Black smoke plumes curled in the sky and grew like a giant, mushroom cloud. It blew steadily towards the village in the wind.
They pulled up outside the centre and helped Mark out of the Land Rover; the colour was finally returning to his face.
Sarah turned to Annie. “Can I borrow the shotgun for a while?”
Annie gave her the shotgun, and then walked towards the front doors.
Holding back so Annie was in front of them, Sarah turned to Mark and placed her hands on his chest.
“Mark. I don’t know what’s going to happen from here on out but I just wanted you to know that I’m glad you found me that day in the street.” She smiled up at him, a single tear rolled off her cheek.
“What’s going on Sarah?” Mark asked, in confusion.
“You’ll see soon enough.”
“Sarah,” he started quietly, putting his hand through her hair and holding her face towards him. “You might be clumsy and stubborn and you nearly get me killed all the time but I love you, and I always will.”
“I know.”
She took his hand and they went inside together.
~
There was a crowd around Annie as Sarah and Mark entered the room, they hugged her and handed her blankets and drinks as she tried to answer all of their questions.
Sarah found Jack standing by the window and nausea hit her, as she thought about Emily’s story. She tried to shake off the thought and regain her composure—she would need it. Since he was at the window, he would have seen her and Mark outside, in each other’s arms. An old pang of fear hit her again, as she momentarily worried about his reaction—but she pushed it down into her stomach. She wasn’t scared of him. Not now.
Jack sneered at Mark as he saw them enter and then —seeing Sarah—smiled a huge, toothy grin. Two days ago she would have been fooled by that, but now she saw the maliciousness behind it. He rushed towards her, his arms out dramatically, beckoning her to come to him.
“Sarah! You’re alive!” He said in a strange, high voice. “I can’t believe it!”
People turned around to face them.
“Sarah!” her mother screamed and tried to run towards her. Annie grabbed her gently by the arm and whispered something to her that made her stop. Her parents looked on, perplexed. She gave Sarah a knowing look.
“Strange, considering you saw me just a few hours ago. Duke sends his regards,” Sarah said, stepping away from his outstretched arms.
“He told us Duke had killed you!” Her father cried.
Jack froze and his smile slowly faded from his lips. He lowered his arms slowly to his side and his eyes darkened.
“That’s the second time you’ve told them I was dead, darling. I’m starting to think it was wishful thinking on your part,” Sarah smirked at him, desperately ignoring the small spark of fear that ignited when she looked at him. Old memories.
Jack opened his mouth to speak but Sarah interrupted him.
“He,” Sarah said, pointing at Jack, “made deals with Duke knowing those women were to be butchered and raped. Because of him, Emily was murdered tonight!”
There was commotion in the hall, people gasped and cried at the news. Jamie held back Frank as he tried to lunge for Jack in blind fury. They cursed and spat at him.
Jack ignored the uproar and concentrated on Sarah. He tried to bring back his smile but he couldn’t hide his rage. He gritted his teeth in a strange grin that reminded her of Duke.
“Baby, you have to understand. I had these people to protect, and they needed me. I’m sorry—”
“My daughter needed you, you bastard!” Sarah’s mother shouted.
Jac
k shot her an angry glance then walked closer to Sarah and tried to put his arms around her. She moved back a few steps and a look of intense rage shadowed his eyes. “What is this really about, Sarah?” he asked, rage building in his voice. “Are you leaving me for Rambo over here? Is that what’s going on?”
Sarah could feel his breath on her face. She backed away again, trying to fight the rising fear in her chest. His cold, angry eyes gave her a sense of déjà vu. She had seen this face many times before.
“I left you a long time ago, Jack,” Sarah said, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Jack looked startled for a second and he began curling and uncurling his fists restlessly. “Then why did you spend the night fucking me if you didn’t want me, my love?” he spat.
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