Hounded | Book 3 | Hounded 3

by Douglas, Ellie

  “Ryker, how long have you been here?” Bellamy asked as he took a coffee from Lily, smiling at her sweetly. She took a seat next to him, everyone eager to hear Ryker’s answers.

  Ryker removed his hat, scratched his head, put the hat back on, grabbed himself a coffee, and sat down, looking at all the faces staring back at him. He felt his face burn hot again.

  “Been here just over a month,” he said as he sipped his coffee.

  “Where’s everyone else, other military, police?” Harry asked as he waved his large muscular arms in the direction of outside. His Viking hair bounced freely about, giving him a wild look.

  “We were stationed in several areas. Covering all of New York, there were very few of us to start with. Just shy of a hundred fifty men. There might still be more alive. I don’t know, since I haven’t left my post.” He tapped the floor with his feet and then crossed them. Looking around the room, his face grew even hotter. He didn’t like being the center of attention.

  “We started to run out of ammunition. The dogs were terribly fast and were even smart. They’d gather in packs and howl something fierce. It debilitated some of the men. They’d throw their arms to their ears, and as soon as they did that, the dogs were on them like flies to cattle carcasses.”

  Bellamy remembered firsthand the zombie dogs doing just that. He reflected over this as Ryker continued.

  “With the SD-16 putting nearly everyone in the Army into a damn coma, what we had wasn’t enough. We had no access to restock ammunition. Things grew rapidly out of control. One moment we were spraying bullets, taking out the dead things, and the next we were fighting our own men and women. They’d turned.” He looked down at the floor, re-crossed his feet, and carried on. “It didn’t take long, being without ammunition, until we were cornered. My team went down hard. They were eaten right in front of me, right over there.” He pointed to the area outside.

  “How did you survive?” Timothy asked as he held tightly to Anya.

  “I – cough – I ran like a chicken and hid inside a manhole, waited for two days, then climbed out. I searched for survivors, tried the radio repeatedly, entered this building, and haven’t left since – well, apart from supply runs. You lot are the first sign of life I’ve seen since then.” He gulped down his coffee. His rosy cheeks bloomed like a ripened tomato.

  “You’re not a coward.” Bellamy spoke firmly, patting Ryker on the back.

  “Where did you all come from? How have you all survived?” Ryker asked as he looked around the room.

  “Long story short, Sleepy Hollow, New York, through to Vermont, the White Mountains, and now back here,” answered Bellamy.

  “Where you heading?” Ryker asked.

  “Liberty Island. We all figured it’d be as good a place as any to set up,” Calloway answered for the group. Ryker looked around the room, and many heads nodded in agreement. A few just stared blankly as if unsure.

  “Do you have a spare tire?”

  “Nope, we’re gonna have to go on foot.”

  “You can’t be serious. You have no idea how bad it is out there, do you?” He looked straight into Bellamy’s eyes. Ryker’s were cold and fearful.

  “Tell us, how bad is it?” “Harry asked, interrupting them.

  “You seem to have managed going out and back.” Lily said as she pointed to the crates of food, water, and other supplies.

  “Yes, that’s true, I did manage to elude them. I was solo though, quiet as a mouse. But you’re a group. You won’t be able to sustain that depth of stealth. You’ve got a baby for God’s sake. What if that little one starts crying while you’re in the middle of the street? Where you think you’re gonna go? Most of the buildings have been burnt, shot at, or even tanked. Yes, we have a few – did have – a few tanks roaming around.”

  The group suddenly fell very quiet as Ryker’s words lingered. Being on foot was risky, and some weren’t willing to take it on. A few stood up, saying that they no longer wanted to go and would stay with Ryker. The chatter grew louder and louder, until Ryker dug into his pocket and pulled out a silver whistle. He blew on it until everyone stopped and stared at him.

  “How many guns and how much ammunition do you have? What about food and water?” Ryker asked, taking on a more authoritative and commanding tone.

  “We’ve been looting every damn gun shop along the way. We’re fairly well loaded,” Oliver said smugly.

  Ryker looked up at Oliver, his towering girth spreading a wide shadow across the back wall.

  “How do you plan on carrying everything?” Ryker asked as he stood and walked toward a small window. He looked out, lingered for a minute, and then returned to his seat.

  “Duffel bags, backpacks, and we’ve still got a car. Oliver can drive the supplies right to Battery Park, or anywhere closer that has a boat, and the rest of us can go on foot,” Bellamy said, with stern command of his own.

  “If Oliver can get to where you need to be and offload the gear onto a boat, he could drive back to where we are and cart us back. It’d be a few trips, but everyone would then be safe,” Calloway suggested as he looked at Oliver.

  “You’re forgetting something,” Ryker said as he shifted his footing on the carpeted floor before gulping down another coffee.

  “What’s that?” Bellamy asked.

  “The hordes of zombies. What if they overtake Oliver’s car, cause him to crash, rip him out of the car and feast on his body like he was dog treats? It’s not like he can speed through the streets, as they’re congested with everything you can imagine.”

  “So, you’re saying that even by car, we can’t make it through?” Lily asked with a shaking fear that clouded her voice like a fog.

  “No, it’s not impossible. I’m just saying it’s far worse than you ever imagined.”

  More chatter broke out. Everyone was scared. What Ryker was saying infiltrated their minds like speeding bullets.

  “Is it safer to travel at night?” Calloway asked.

  “No,” was all Ryker offered.

  “What about the underground sewer tunnels? We could use those. I doubt many, if any, zombie dogs would be down there,” Ethan suggested.

  Bellamy’s mind ticked over Ethan’s idea. Thinking about the injured, Jackson could slow them down with his injuries or his son William, Ankti with her illness, and then there was baby Hope. She would need to be kept quiet. Then there was the matter of all the food, weapons, and other supplies they’d acquired. They needed it all.

  Bellamy’s head exploded into a tension headache. At times, he disliked being the one that ultimately chose their path. If he was wrong, they could all die. If he was right and they survived, he’d be a hero. His brain at that moment felt as though it was being utterly mind-fucked. He pondered on things for a few minutes longer.

  “Ryker, you think you can remember the last time you saw a manhole and where it was?” Bellamy asked.

  “Yes, sir, just a couple short blocks from here on East 165th street.”

  “Oliver, you think you can drive Millie, the baby, Nakos, his sister Ankti, Jackson and William, plus as much of the supplies as you can handle?” Bellamy asked as he stood, stretching his arms over his shoulders until they clicked.

  “Yeah, sure, but drive where?” Oliver asked, confused.

  “Right to Battery Park. Dump the gear on a ferry, get you and the others on board, and wait for us. We’re going to take the tunnels,” Bellamy said. happy with his final decision.

  “Well, what if I don’t want to go?” came a voice from across the room. It was a young man in his twenties, standing, shaking, and pulling on the paper cup in his hands.

  “It’s okay. We won’t be forcing any of you to come with us,” Bellamy said, and then added, “We’d love for every one of you to come with us, safety in numbers and all that, but we won’t force any of you if you feel you’d rather stay here.”

  A burst of heavy conversation took place. A couple of hours went by. Bellamy and some of the others tried to conv
ince them all to remain together, but some wouldn’t budge and time wasn’t on their side. Nightfall would come within the next four hours, and Bellamy was eager to get going. He felt annoyed, pained, frustrated, and somewhat angry. Nothing he could do or say would change their minds.

  “This room is big enough, so those of you who don’t want to come with us, please move to the right,” Bellamy said, waving his hands in a big circular motion.

  Immediately, several of the group got up and moved to the right. Some were from Ethan’s group and some from Bellamy’s. There were nineteen in total, twenty including Ryker.

  Ryker got up, disappeared into another room, and reappeared with a large box filled with twelve lanterns and one pair of Army night-vision goggles.

  “Think you’re gonna need these. I can always get more,” he said pleasantly.

  “Thank you, Ryker.

  Bellamy, Lily, Ethan, and Calloway filled the packs and said their goodbyes to the ones that were staying behind. Lily tried asking again for them to join them, but they refused.

  Forty-eight arrived in New York that day. Nineteen stayed behind. It upset Lily that the community was splitting up. With twenty-nine left, she tried twice more to convince the group to go. They all declined, leaving Lily feeling defeated.

  CHAPTER 26

  SUFFERING

  Dreadlocks returned to Sunset Valley the following morning with the three women. They were stripped, branded, and thrown into the cell with the others.

  “I want you to take some men and get your asses to New York City. Make your way to Liberty Island. I want those women brought back here… Now!” Clarke ordered. Dreadlocks took off, rounding up the men.

  Clarke straightened his tense shoulders. In need of release, he strode off to the jailhouse. He pushed open the doors forcefully. Gasps whooshed by the women as the guards jumped to their feet.

  “So, how are my gals doing?” Clarke’s tone was bitterly aggressive. He walked up to the cell, his lizard eyes drifting to each of the women. His fingers danced like monster talons across the metal bars. The women cringed, their skin crawling in his presence.

  His fingers continued before suddenly stopping and pointing to one of the black women. Number 36 shuddered, rocked, and jolted backward, falling on her bottom as she recoiled away from his pointed finger.

  “Cower all ya like, bitch! That ain’t gonna save you. Now move!” His gnarly finger curled round, prompting her to the door of the cell.

  A large, bearded guard rattled the keys and unlocked the door. Number 36 stepped out hesitantly. Clarke impatiently grabbed her around the wrist and hurriedly dragged her out. The bearded guard slammed the cell door, locked it, and stood guard again. Not once did his eyes meet Clarke’s.

  Clarke grabbed a handful of Number 36’s hair, dragged her out of the jailhouse, pushed her into the middle of the street, and removed his belt. Then he pushed his pants down to his ankles before kicking out of them.

  His body was well toned with ripped muscles, but there were multiple scars, bullet and knife, that ascended across his chest, hips and thighs. One stood out to Lynn – Number 36. Her eyes hovered around his upper right leg, which had an indentation at least an inch and a half wide. The outside of it looked like flower petals drawn by a six-year-old, uneven and disjointed.

  Lynn swayed and gasped in quick succession. Clarke demanded she remove her dress cloth. She obeyed, pulling it up over her head and letting it fall to the ground. Liquid filled her eyes, and the cool air felt damp and cold on her naked skin, in spite of the sun shining down upon her.

  “On your knees,” Clarke ordered. She did as he commanded.

  Her hands knotted as she fisted the earth, knowing what was coming. From Clarke’s right a few men patrolling the area were watching the activity. He flicked them a glance filled with cold hollow rage, then looked away from them as they hastily retreated. His scrutiny focused on the figure of the woman crumpled before him.

  Clarke displayed an evil sinister smile as he ejected the magazine from his weapon, made sure it was full, and slapped it back into place with the heel of his palm. Number 36 scampered backward, her eyes wide and her mouth parted.

  “Please, don’t shoot me.”

  Clarke said nothing. Laying his Glock on top of his pants, he walked toward Number 36. His ass caught in the sun, making it whiter than a full moon. He clenched his ass cheeks as he knelt and swiftly grabbed a handful of her hair again. Lynn recoiled in revulsion to his cruelty.

  “Please!” Lynn cried, “Anything but this!” she yelled. Desperation and urgency filled her.

  Again, Clarke said nothing. While his right hand held her hair taut, his left grabbed a breast, filling his palm with warmth. His hands were coarse, rough like sandpaper. His fingers scratched her as he swapped breasts.

  Lynn locked her jaw tightly. A searing hot pain shot into her temples. She bit down on her tongue to stifle her growing groans of pain. Clarke watched her like a predatory hawk.

  “Suck me!” his voice commanded.

  Lynn felt acid rise and sit in her mouth. Bending forward, she opened her mouth right above his erection and spewed all over it. She watched it splatter along his shaft, beading onto his stomach as it fell to the ground in a pool that looked like chicken broth. Without a proper diet, she had nothing substantial to bring up. Believing he’d surely kill her for this insult, she tried to move her eyes to his. But his grip on her head kept her neck at a downward angle, so she wasn’t able to see.

  Clarke retorted with a laugh so crass that it shook the very cells within her body, causing her to almost pass out.

  Clarke reached for his Glock and pushed it into her left temple.

  “Now you clean me, suck it all off. Puke again, and you’re gonna have to clean it again!” He’d begun in an evil whisper and then suddenly yelled the rest, which spooked Lynn unlike anything in her entire life.

  She lifted her eyes to meet his. As soon as he let go of her hair, her lips trembled and her face contorted into one of severe agony. Her shaking hands rubbed the spot on her head where he’d held her hair so tightly.

  “Please, don’t make me eat that. I’ll be sick, please,” she begged.

  “Just fucking do it.” Clarke rammed his knuckles into her temple so hard it left an indentation, and a splitting migraine ravaged her entire head.

  Reluctantly, she lowered her head. He helped push it down. The smell of her vomit made her gag even before she got close to his erection. She forced her eyes closed and began cleaning his cock. Clearing away the spew made her heave. She quickly turned her head and puked again. He forcefully pulled her head back onto his cock, once she stopped vomiting.

  “Continue, bitch!”

  Number 36 did as she was ordered. She threw up twice more, each time ensuring it was to the side and nowhere near his cock. When she finished, he cruelly grabbed a fistful of her hair, barking orders for her to lie on her stomach.

  Giving up the fight, she obeyed, turning onto her stomach. Feeling the gravel pinching and digging its way into her flesh, she let the teardrops roll free. With wide eyes rimmed red, her cheeks flushed and glistening with tears that had zigzagged pale spates into the dirt covering her face, she suffered through all that came next.

  When he was done he forced her up by her hair and dragged her back to the cell. The bearded guard unlocked it for him. He pushed her in and walked out the door, back to the hotel where he sat by his satellite phone. Lighting a cigar, he put his legs up, crossed at the ankles, on the big desk and waited.

  CHAPTER 27

  ON THE MOVE

  “So, we’re gonna do this then?” Lily asked no one in particular.

  “Yes,” replied Harry as he got up and made his way outside. He began grabbing the supplies and shoving as much as he could into the trunk of Oliver’s car. Millie got into the back seat with Hope. Nakos helped Ankti in and then squeezed himself in the back with them. Jackson sat in the front with his son William on his lap. Oliver got in and they set of
f.

  Bellamy got everyone else prepared. Each had a pack or two to carry. They were all ready. As quickly as the decision was made, they were off. Bellamy thanked Ryker with a firm handshake. Desolately, he shrugged his shoulders at the group and wished Bellamy and the others good luck. Bellamy rounded up the rest of the group, and waved goodbye to Ryker and the others that were staying with him. Bellamy took the remaining group along the side of the building, walking slowly and quietly, his eyes darting in every direction.

  “Go faster,” Selena snapped as she panicked at the sounds around her and tripped on the curb, falling hard and grazing her knees. Ted helped her up. His hair looked like he’d bathed it in olive oil. It was so oily, it glistened.

  “Thanks,” Selena said as she grabbed her pack and stood at the back of the group.

  Ethan put on his jacket, and then placing the white tiger inside, he zipped it up halfway so that just its face was visible.

  They all started following Bellamy. Some had made makeshift masks to cover their faces from the deathly smell that was overpowering their senses. Jordan, a fifty-three-year-old, started to lag. His lungs ached and his hip replacement acted up, slowing him down. No one realized he’d fallen so far behind, until they heard his scream. When they turned to look, all they saw were two zombie dogs with their jaws wrapped around Jordan’s legs. His blood was exploding into the air like a geyser. Both dogs were tugging at him, viciously pulling him sideways. With a dog on each leg, it wasn’t long before Jordan’s legs split so wide it tore him in half. His screams stopped abruptly. All that could be heard was the chomping, suckling, and biting of the zombie dogs.

  “Quickly,” Bellamy urged as he moved them further away.

  “We can’t save him, he’s gone,” Lily added as they hurried along. Keeping to a path alongside the buildings, Bellamy led them down Third Avenue. He rushed, his walking almost a run. Others were starting to fall behind. He looked over his shoulder and slowed down a little, allowing them to catch up before he picked up his pace again.