“Yes, but we needed the food,” another of the men said.
The man with the baseball bat climbed over the tables in front of the doors and knocked three times before pausing to knock again. The doors opened and James peeked up for a brief look. The room was packed full of men, women, and a lot of children. There were tents set up inside the large gym, along with all the cooking appliances from the kitchen. They handed the bags to the people inside the room and then followed, closing the doors after them.
“We need to move. Now,” Connor whispered. “These people are sitting ducks, and when one of them turns it’ll be a bloody massacre.”
“We need to warn them about the horde coming this way,” James said.
“They’re not our problem!”
“We can’t just leave ‘em!”
The door cracked open and James cursed under his breath.
“Is someone out there?” asked the man with the baseball bat as he peered into the dark cafeteria.
James crouched, perfectly still, not daring to move a muscle as the beam from the man’s flashlight swept the room. The man grunted and shook his head, closing the door again. James sighed and looked at his brother, who returned his stare angrily.
“Whatever,” James said, standing. “Let’s go.”
Jumping over the counter, James kept his eyes on the door to make sure no one else came out, which was why he didn’t see the woman coming from the opposite hallway until her flashlight beam fell on him. James aimed at her as she screamed. Connor took three steps toward her when the doors burst opened.
James swung back around to face the eight armed men standing in the doorway and quickly found the highest priority target—the man with the M16. Connor made it to the woman and grabbed her before she could react. Letting his AR drop to his side on the sling, he drew his 1911 handgun and pressed the barrel to the side of her head.
“Let’s not do anything rash now,” James said, eyeing the men standing in front of him. Their expressions ranged from fear to shock to barely contained rage. He focused on the angry men more than the rest.
“We ain’t the ones with hostages,” said Randy, the redneck with the M16.
“Who are you?” asked the man with the baseball bat.
“Just two men passing through,” James said.
“Why’d you come here?” Baseball Bat asked.
“To investigate the light.”
“I told you we shouldn’t use them lights,” Randy said.
“Shut up, Randy,” said another man.
“We don’t want any trouble,” James said.
“Then let her go,” Baseball Bat said.
“No,” Connor growled.
Great, James thought. If he keeps this up, we’ll end up having to shoot our way out.
“We came to investigate the light,” James said again, “and to warn anyone here. There’s a horde of over a hundred zombies coming this way from Cheyenne.”
“So now yer tryin’ to save us?” Randy asked.
“Why the hell should we trust you?” asked another man.
James ignored them and locked eyes with Baseball Bat, since he seemed the most reasonable. He was a middle-aged man with receding brown hair and bushy eyebrows that framed intelligent brown eyes. He carried himself with authority and James knew this was the man he had to convince.
“Lay down your weapons and we’ll lay ours down,” Baseball Bat said.
“But Peter—” one of the men began.
“We do not want to start a bloodbath,” Peter said. “Lay ‘em down and we’ll do likewise.”
James glanced over at his brother and knew he wouldn’t lay down his weapon. He didn’t trust them and James didn’t either—in fact, they didn’t trust anyone right now. He opened his mouth to respond but stopped short, hearing a barely audible voice come over the radio that was tucked into his tactical vest.
“James, the horde is on the west side of town,” Ana said. “We can hear screaming and Emmett says he sees dozens of them between the houses. You need to get out of there. The zombies are coming.”
2
Field Trip
“We don’t have time for this pissin’ contest!” James said, lowering his AR and flipping the NVGs up. “Connor, let her go.”
His brother looked at him and hesitated.
Just do it, bro!
“Fine,” Connor said, releasing her and holstering his handgun. Immediately, she ran past James and began to climb over the tables toward the men.
“Now, we all need to get out of here,” James said. “Quietly gather everyone and get them to the buses parked outside.” Randy opened his mouth to respond, but James shot him a look. “Do you want to die trapped in here?”
“He might be right,” Peter said reluctantly. “They have no reason to lie. Gather everyone and let’s get them to the buses.”
“What do we tell the kids?” asked a woman with short blonde hair, walking up from behind the men.
“Tell them we’re going on a field trip,” Peter said.
“Stay quiet,” James said, “but you’ll want to move fast. Don’t start up any of the buses till everyone is out.”
Connor jogged past him toward the hallway they’d come from. James ran to catch up with him.
“You’re gonna want to stay and help them, aren’t you?” Connor spat.
“We don’t have a choice,” James said.
“We always have a choice. And your choices are going to get us killed! Do you want our parents’ deaths to be in vain?”
“Their deaths would be in vain if we didn’t do something more than just stay alive!”
“That’s all there is to do now. Stay alive!” Connor yelled, slamming through the doors and exiting the school as he ran to the trucks.
James hesitated at the exit. Is he right? Am I going to get us killed? No, he knew this was the right thing to do. If they just worried about survival, what kind of life would that be? Would it even be a life worth living? He knew in his heart that this was what needed to be done. There was no choice; he’d been called to help those in need. The thought was like cold water being poured over a sunburn. He still had his faith, and no matter how angry or hurt he was, he still believed. There was more to life than just surviving. Jogging through the doors, he felt some of the pain in his heart fade—not much, but it was a start.
Outside, Connor was already at their truck, climbing onto the topper. While James didn’t have an awesome shooting bench welded to the top of his topper, it still offered a superior view compared to the ground. James ran over to Alexis at the side of Emmett’s truck, tossing the backpack through the open window into the backseat.
“Here are some medical supplies,” he said. “How bad is it out here?”
“Pretty bad,” Alexis responded. “There are at least a hundred of them and they’re heading this way.” Screams and sporadic gunfire sounded from the town in the distance, accentuating her point. “What happened in there?”
“There are survivors—a lot of ‘em—and they have kids. They’re gonna load into buses and we’re gonna lead ‘em outta here.”
“Can we trust them?” Alexis asked.
“Yeah, at least I think so,” James said.
“So what you’re saying is we need to keep an eye on them?” Ana asked from next to his truck.
“Yes, and the school is clear if you want to use the restroom,” James said.
“I already took care of that,” Ana said.
“I thought—”
“Over there!” Connor said from the topper. He pointed at the larger parking lot to the west where the two buses sat. People had begun streaming out of the school from the main entrance, heading toward the buses. Peter stood halfway between the vehicles and the school, ushering them forward.
“So far, so good,” James said. The first bus was full and the second was getting loaded when the first bus’s engine roared to life, shattering the relative quiet of the night. “Ah, hell.”
“H
ere they come!” Emmett said, sighting in on the zombies beginning to shamble over their way.
“Alexis, keep them from getting too close,” James said as he moved into action.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“To help.”
Without looking back at his brother, he took off across the small plot of cultured grass between their parking lot and the larger one. In the distance, a huge group of zombies began heading toward the school bus with its engine running and lights on. There was another school the zombies would have to pass before getting to them. They should be able to hold them off until the rest of the survivors loaded into the buses. Behind him, a suppressed gunshot went off in the night, followed a second later by another. Connor and Emmett had gone to work.
James ran up to Peter. “What the hell?”
“I told Greg not to start it yet,” Peter said.
“We need to hurry these people up,” James said. “The zombies are coming.”
Peter began shouting orders to hurry the kids up. A few of them didn’t want to leave the school and go outside. James couldn’t blame them, but they didn’t have time for this. He ran over to the entrance, getting the attention of the blonde-haired woman from before.
“You need to get them to the buses now,” James told her. “I don’t care if you have to drag ‘em!”
“But they—” she began.
“I just told you I don’t care. You need to get them to the buses or they’ll be torn apart and eaten alive.” James said the last part rather loudly, hoping the kids would hear.
That should motivate them to move, he thought smugly.
But it had the opposite effect as kids began to scream and cry. A little dark-haired girl around seven years old ran inside and the woman Connor had held hostage ran in after her.
“Well, that did not help at all,” Blondie informed him.
“I can see that,” he said. “Time to try plan B.”
Jogging over to a little boy, he picked him up, ignoring his kicks and screams. He ran over to the closest bus, handing him off to one of the men inside. Going back, he picked up a younger girl and repeated the process. She went more willingly, although she was crying now.
Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned them getting eaten.
Returning to Blondie, he was happy to see that most of the kids were reluctantly following her in a line toward the bus. He guessed that after seeing some of their friends being hauled off by the big scary man, they’d decided walking would be easier—that or Blondie had told them something to get them moving. He liked to think it was the former.
“I thought you told them they’re going on a field trip.” James said to Blondie as they walked the kids to the bus.
“We did, but they aren’t stupid,” she responded, “just young.”
“Well, good work so far.”
“Why are you helping us?” she asked, looking at him curiously when they arrived at the bus.
“I was taught to help people,” James responded. “I lost myself with everything that’s been going on. But seeing all these kids in there . . . they don’t deserve this.”
He glanced at Peter who was coming toward them, a worried look on his face.
“We don’t have enough room,” he said, looking at the group of twenty-some standing next to the bus.
“Are there any more buses?” James asked, looking around.
There were only three vehicles in the parking lot over by their trucks that would hold a maximum of fifteen people. They could possibly shove some of them in the beds of their trucks, but that many? There wouldn’t be enough room.
“Yes,” Peter said, “over at the high school.”
James looked toward the high school and the zombies beginning to swarm the lawn. They were running out of time.
“Where at?” James asked.
“Around the back of the building,” Peter said.
“Let’s go then!” James said.
Peter hesitated only a second, then took off across the parking lot, heading toward the high school. James followed. Most of the zombies were sticking to the road and the front of the school, so the back of the building should be mostly clear. He came around the corner of the building just behind Peter. There were a dozen zombies lumbering in their direction between them and the school buses. His AR was to his shoulder in a flash and he aimed at the closest one, laser resting on its head. He put a bullet in its brain. As the first one was falling to the ground, he was already swinging onto the next one. Thirteen more shots and all the zombies lay on the ground, blood slowly oozing from their heads.
“Let’s go,” James said. The way to the buses was now clear. “Are the keys in ‘em?”
“Not these,” Peter said. “They should be in the shed.” At the shed, Peter entered a code into the padlock while James kept watch.
You shouldn’t be here! You should be with your brother! said a voice in his head.
He knew the voice was right, at least partially. Helping these people was right as well, but he had run off rather recklessly. He and his brother were a team and that didn’t work when one just up and abandoned the other. He’d have to apologize to Connor when he got back.
Peter cursed.
“What now?” James asked, glancing back at him.
“I forgot the combination,” Peter said.
“Stand back.” James said and aimed at the padlock but missed, blowing a hole in the door. He cursed, shot again, and this time blew the padlock apart.
Peter opened the door and grabbed a keychain off the wall. “Got ‘em.”
They ran to the nearest bus and Peter climbed into the driver’s seat while James sat in the front row. The bus roared to life and Peter drove over the lawn in a wide U-turn, heading toward the other buses. James cursed when they came around the side of the high school. The zombies had made it to where the closest elementary school bus had been, but now it was waiting for them at the intersection of the highway. The remaining kids were still clustered around the farthest bus, only twenty yards from the zombies, looking wide-eyed and terrified. There was only one adult with them. She looked just as scared as the kids.
James jumped out as they came to a stop next to the kids. The woman ushered them inside and James went around to the back of the bus. Fifty sets of undead legs were stumbling toward them in a frenzy. Aiming at the first one, he dropped it. Another fell in the front line from a suppressed shot behind him. He took out a few more, but they steadily kept coming. Behind them was an even larger horde of zombies.
“Let’s go, kid!” Peter said from the driver’s seat.
“Head north! I’ll run to my truck!” James yelled at him.
The bus pulled forward and James ran alongside, heading toward his truck. A scream sounded to his left and the little dark-haired girl ran out of the school. She had blood on her and looked horrified. A female zombie stumbled after her, missing half its neck—the woman who’d gone in after the girl.
She turned quickly!
He stopped, shooting over the little girl and taking out the zombie chasing her. He ran in front of the second bus, scooped her up with his left arm, and took off running toward his truck.
He stopped dead in his tracks. Out of the side entrance they’d gone in earlier a steady stream of zombies approached the trucks behind his group. About a dozen had branched off toward him.
They must have gotten in from another entrance!
“Your six!” James yelled to his group.
Connor glanced over at the zombies and swung his AR around, taking out the nearest one, five yards away. The girls joined in, but still more poured out of the school. Blocked from getting to the trucks and with the last bus too far down the road, James looked around. Zombies were closing in from the west, north and northeast, so he did the only logical thing—he ran into the cornfield to the south of the road. The trucks started up, headlights shining into the night.
Entering the standing corn, he turned to the east, hoping the zomb
ies would try following him instead of cutting him off. He planned to come out on the highway where hopefully his group would be waiting for him in the safety of the trucks.
The little girl clung to him fiercely. She had to weigh at least fifty pounds. Cornstalks whipped him in the face and he couldn’t see more than a few feet. Tripping over something on the ground, he fell forward, twisting to land on his right side. Something popped in his side when he connected with a rock on the ground. He groaned, rolling onto his back. The little girl stood up next to him, unfazed, and began to tug on his arm.
“Come on,” she said in a quiet voice.
“One second,” James said, trying to catch his breath.
Pain shot up his side as he inhaled deeply. He closed his eyes and touched his ribs—definitely bruised, maybe even fractured. The girl screamed and he opened his eyes, instinctively raising his AR, but there was nothing near him.
The zombie was only three feet away from the girl, reaching for her, when a 5.56 bullet blew half its face off. The creature fell at her feet and she jumped back, moving next to James. He rose to a kneeling position, AR still aiming at the fallen zombie as pain flared in his side. Hearing more zombies groaning from the south and west, he picked the girl up on his uninjured left side, ignoring the pain. They needed to get out of there, and fast. Continuing through the cornfield, he came out on the far side with the highway a hundred yards in front of him. He jogged to the road, his side on fire. When he made it there, he looked back. Ten zombies were just coming out of the cornfield.
Setting the girl down, he brought the AR to his shoulder and took down the nearest zombie—grateful the gun didn’t have enough recoil to hurt his side. He swung onto the next one, laser pointing at its head, and fired, spraying brains out of the back of its skull. The zombies only made it halfway before they were all lying dead on the ground. He lowered his AR and exchanged his partial magazine for a full one. Looking down at the girl, he smiled. She returned a weak smile, even though her blue eyes shone with fear.
The Brother's Creed (Book 2): Battleborn Page 3