Hounded | Book 3 | Hounded 3

by Douglas, Ellie

  “Lucy,” Noah’s voice was soft. As he knelt beside her, he called her again. She moaned a little as her body twitched.

  “Lucy!” he said a bit louder. This time she flapped her eyes open a little. He got down lower, so they were cheek to cheek. He had tears in his eyes

  “It… It got me, Noah, the fucking thing ate out my spine, just look.” Her eyes cast downward.

  “Hush now, we can get you all fixed up.”

  “You were never any good at lying.” Gore oozed out of her mouth. She made a half-cough. Too scared to cough, but she could feel a sneeze coming. She braced herself, but it passed. She half curled her lips toward her nose, but her attempt at even that caused too much discomfort. The excruciating pain bounced through her.

  “You are going to be just fine,” he promised as he held her fingers in his hand. Squeezing gently, he could feel her slipping away as her breathing become shallow. Her skin grew bluish and cold. His eyes filled with liquid, this time spilling over and trickling down his hot cheeks.

  Lucy was losing control. Her speech turned into a slur of incomprehensible dialect. Her eyes closed forever, leaving Noah speechless. The last thing he would remember was seeing her back split wide apart, as though some hideous alien had eaten its way out of her body. The way her skin had gaped apart either side of her spine, splitting open like a giant pod plant.

  To the right of them a small child appeared and hovered, whimpering.

  “She… She tried to help me… It’s my fault!” Grace wailed.

  “Now, now, little one, this isn’t your fault. It’s the damn dogs.” Bellamy said as he took a careful step toward the girl.

  Grace fell to her knees, sobbing at first, and then full-out blubbering. Snot was pouring from her nose, and her mouth contorted into a shape Bellamy hadn’t seen before. She sucked in and out, spitting saliva as if she was trying to blow out one of those magical birthday candles. Bellamy draped an arm around her shoulder and she shuddered stormily.

  “You’re safe now,” he said as he watched Noah crouching over Lucy’s dead body. He took off his jacket and covered her back. Bellamy’s eyes shifted to Grace. She looked half-starved. In her pale pink summer dress, her ribs poked through the thin fabric, and her light brown hair was knotted in clumps of dirt, blood, and grime. He dug into his backpack and handed her a chocolate energy bar and a can of Coke. She didn’t take her eyes off Lucy as her little fingers tore open the wrapping. Sitting on her knees, she watched Lucy and ate, more fluid spilling from her raw-looking eyes. She pinched the tab on the Coke can until it sprang back enough to pull right off. It hissed and spat a fine mist of bubbles out. She put it to her mouth and grimaced at the warmness of it.

  After a good forty minutes, they were ready to leave. Noah was understandably miserable. He’d lost two of his people, and Bellamy couldn’t help feeling like he himself was cursed. Every time he got a group to go somewhere with him, they ended up dead. He pushed those thoughts aside. His mission was to get back to the ferry. Tylor would be worried about them.

  Liza looked out of the Humvee window. The gunshots terrified her, and she immediately assumed it was the gang again. When she saw two faces that she recognized, she jumped out of the vehicle and rushed over, hollering out their names.

  “Bellamy, Nakos, it’s me, Liza.”

  The men turned to see Liza running towards them. Reaching them with open arms, she embraced them as she wailed in a fit of endless tears.

  “Thank God!” she howled through streams of tears.

  “Liza, how did you get here? Where are the others?”

  “Dead, all dead, and there’s more.”

  “What?” Nakos asked with urgency.

  “That gang, they came looking for you, for us. They sent men. One of them got me, but while he was busy torturing a woman, I shot him. I found the Luger in a box under the seat of the car. The woman, she ran off. I was scared and I couldn’t stop her, not without giving myself away to the other two goons and letting them know it was me who shot the leader of their team.”

  Liza stopped to take puffs of her inhaler before carrying on.

  “They have a sat phone, Bellamy. They know you’re on the island. It isn’t safe anymore.”

  “Do you have the sat phone?” Bellamy asked as he tore off part of his shirt, handing it to her so she could blow her nose on it. The excessive dripping was too much for even him to handle.

  “Thank you.” She blew her nose and continued. “I threw it, and it smashed on the ground when I hurled it out the window. I didn’t want to talk to that gang man anymore. He terrified me.”

  “You spoke to him?” Bellamy quizzed her with wide eyes.

  “Yeah, to tell him I killed his main man while the dogs took out the other two. He was so angry, and said he was sending more men.”

  “Jesus Jesse James,” Bellamy said as he ushered the group onto the boat.

  “We’ll discuss our options back on the island,” he said as they got onboard and took their seats.

  Grace sat on the ferry and never took her eyes off the floor. Her fragile frame shook with the motion of the water. Nakos watched over her while Bellamy sat with Noah and Liza.

  Their conversation strained, Noah had newfound hates – hate for what the world had become, hate for the zombies, and now hate for the losses he’d experienced, almost too many to bear. Bellamy did his best to ease Noah’s pain, but he wasn’t sure if he reached him.

  Bellamy then sat in silence while Liza trembled with an endorphin rush. Her entire body felt electric, like hot peppers were injected right into her veins. She felt once again safe and was embracing being alive.

  Bellamy began conjuring up ways and ideas of where they could go to be safe, where the gang wouldn’t know where to look. It anguished him deeply.

  When they got back to the island, Bellamy told them to leave everything on the boat and only take some of the food.

  “We’re not going to stay here,” he told the others. It has become unsafe, so I need to relocate us. Give me a few hours to figure it out, and then be ready as we’ll be off.” Bellamy left them to it and caught up with Lily, bouncing ideas off her. In doing so, it sparked a memory, giving him an idea that he’d discuss with Tylor.

  Grace was introduced to the group and was taken under Kara’s wing, whose motherly instincts shone through. Grace would give her own son a playmate, a necessary distraction from the ever-dying world.

  Noah found himself lost. He just sat on the dock, watching the water. He felt numb, like part of him had died inside. Rose joined him. She told him all about herself and got him to open up a little.

  She let him use her as a sounding board, finding out that he’d lost his wife and child, his friends, and everyone he’d held close, including his pet chimp. He looked into Rose’s eyes and turned away as a lone tear threatened to fall. Rose put her arm around him. Leaning into his muscular chest, she told him over and over that things would get better.

  CHAPTER 43

  PLANS

  “Tylor, you think you can get us to Block Island?”

  “Actually yes, Bellamy, I do. Why?”

  “I’ve been thinking – actually more like bashing my head against a brick wall.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, as you are aware, that gang is heading this way, so we have to leave this island pretty soon. While I was talking with Lily, I remembered Block Island. It would be pretty damn perfect.”

  “I’ve never been. They do year-round trips via Viking Fleet Interstate Fast Ferry, not what I skipper.”

  “Tylor, I’ve been once, and from what I remember, it’s got the smallest population by far, something we could easily manage.”

  “You think this would be the best way?”

  “I do, yes. Liberty Island would have been, but it’s been compromised. And we have no idea how many men are coming or when, so we must do this now.” Bellamy’s voice stressed necessity.

  “What if it’s plagued with zombie dogs or humans?
What then?”

  “I gave that a thought too. There are enough of us to manage a less populated area than if it was over populated. This is a remote island, but with established housing, buildings, crops…”

  “Still, why there and not, say, Canada, Alaska, or anywhere else in the States for that matter?”

  “You don’t see it, do you?”

  “Yes and no. I’m just worried that we’d be walking into another pit of doom, with more of those beastly zombies to devour us as their meals.” Tylor shuddered at the thought of becoming a zombie’s meal.

  “Thing is, we won’t know ‘til we get there. The other areas you’ve suggested are too far away and far too populated. You’ve seen what Manhattan is like. Can you imagine what the rest is like?”

  “I can, Bellamy. I guess I’m apprehensive because we just don’t know what to expect anymore. What if the SD-16 virus dies out? Let’s think scientifically for a moment. If the things are not fed, they perhaps will die out, with a shelf-life of maybe two years. I can’t envision a zombie sustaining its life without food. Their bodies are already decomposed, and the only thing living inside of them is their brain, right? So their bodies could break down further, more decomposition to the point of nothing and they die, right?”

  “I guess so, but what’s your point?” Bellamy grew defensive, but also encouraged the opposing side. He was really getting into the conversation. He sat with his legs crossed at his ankles, his hands expressive as he spoke with Tylor.

  “My point is, perhaps we won’t have to move as such, but merely wait things out. What if that gang doesn’t show up? We could be relocating for nothing.”

  “That theory is not going to work. We have a community here that needs protecting and to be fed. What if it takes five years, or even going back to your two years? We can’t stay here for two years. As I said before, that gang will show up. That guy is a total psycho. He’ll stop at nothing, especially now that one of his best men has been killed.”

  Tylor scratched his head and nodded at Bellamy, giving Bellamy the go-ahead to carry on.

  “Besides, let’s just for hypothetical purposes say the gang doesn’t show up. There’s the matter of your ferryboat. How much fuel do you have, and where can you get more? If you can’t get more, and we get stranded on the mainland during a supply run, that won’t be good. Your ferry will sustain a few more trips, but without fuel, we aren’t going anywhere.”

  “Damn, you really are thinking ahead.” Tylor scratched his head again, his finger resting on his chin as he went into deep thought.

  “Is getting fuel an option?”

  “Yeah, though it won’t last. No one to refill anything. I know where to get some, and we’d need to get back up canisters filled. Wouldn’t want to be stuck somewhere and have no escape plan. Best to be prepared, right?”

  Tylor stood, stretched his short legs, and made a gesture for water. Receiving a nod from Bellamy, he grabbed two bottles of water and returned, seating himself next to Bellamy. Giving him a bottle, they just looked at each other smiling, like a couple of schoolboys planning a drinking party.

  “What do the others think of your idea?”

  “I haven’t told anyone yet. You were the first. They know about the gang coming, just not about where we’re going.”

  “This sounds like a solid idea.”

  Bellamy looked down. The concrete was already starting to grow weeds through tiny little cracks, and it wouldn’t be long before foliage overran the place. He pulled on his fingers, cracking his knuckles.

  “We’ll have the element of surprise. Let’s just hope that whatever survivors there are don’t all rush the boat demanding to be taken off the island. That could pose a problem, and we wouldn’t want to be killing natives of the island. You know, there’s a lot to consider. This is huge,” Bellamy said before adding, “Time for a group meeting.”

  Bellamy stood, shook Tylor’s hand, and left to begin rounding up everyone. They held the meeting in the information center. The meeting went on for two hours straight. A couple protested in the beginning. But with Tylor’s help, Bellamy explained everything.

  The ones that were scared eventually relaxed and agreed it was in their best interest to leave for Block Island.

  CHAPTER 44

  DEPLOYED

  Clarke’s face blossomed into a shade of bright red. His arteries throbbed in his neck, and his jaw muscles bulged wide as his voice commanded two groups of men.

  Two Humvees and two motorbikes were deployed for Operation Purgatory. The men had their orders and were off.

  Team one ran into trouble as they approached Albany. The driver didn’t see the airplane tire that was still attached to part of the broken landing gear, which got hung up under the Humvee. It spun out of control before slamming into the rest of the crashed plane.

  Three men made it out, but the fourth was crushed to death and left to rot. Neal, the team leader, picked up the sat phone, but it was destroyed. Thinking on his feet, he set off on foot, with the other two following behind like loyal pups.

  “Find another vehicle,” Neal ordered.

  The second-in-command, Reece, ran ahead, sprinting nearly three hundred yards from the other two before slowing down and beginning his search. With one hand firmly on his 357 Magnum, his other tried car doors. He peered through the window of a station wagon. For a few moments, all he could see was empty seats in the front, and then his eyes traveled to the back. Some broken glass, a cuddly toy, and children’s books were scattered across the back seat.

  Then from the corner of his eye he saw a dark image making its way from behind the car. Carefully, he pulled the door handle, but it was locked. He stepped to the next door, but it too was locked.

  Reece’s face turned ashen as the massive dog came around and faced him. Its snarling grunts were loud and very frightening. He could feel the loss of his nerve as he raised his 357 Magnum up and took aim at the thing. Pulling the trigger with an unsteady hand resulted in the zombie dog being shot in the middle of its decaying chest. At that close range, he blew a hole the size of a Mason jar lid in it.

  Syrupy black gunk sprayed out. Reece watched it spill. As it did, he was able to see through the hole to the other side, escalating his fear as the dog continued its advance on him. He wiped the sweat from his eyes and regained focus. But he took too long, and the dog was on him.

  Its coarse hair bristled like rose thorns. With Reece’s arm in its mouth, it shook its head from side to side. A thick foam of drool hung in threads from its muzzle. Its jaws snapped tight, and then in a split second it pulled back, ripping three fingers off Reece’s left hand.

  He dropped his 357 Magnum as he used his right hand to comfort his left. The blood spurted through the fingers of his good hand and splashed onto the concrete. Reece’s eyes almost turned upside down as the pain blasted through his entire body. He bundled and twisted into a grimacing stance as the dog relentlessly gnashed through those fingers and came back for more.

  Reece fought with it, punched it in the head, kicked it, and pulled on it, but nothing worked. He tried to get lower to grab his gun. Each time he lowered his body, the dog pulled viciously harder, dragging him away as if he knew what Reece was after.

  The other two men were fast approaching. Neal suddenly stopped, aimed, and fired. The dog released its vice grip and staggered backward. Neal had shot it in the side of its shoulder, the force momentarily disabling it.

  But then the dog bit out, latching its barbed-wire teeth right onto Reece’s stomach. With a series of pulls, it had penetrated through before Neal got a second shot off. This time, it buckled forward, splattering goop across Reece’s body and the concrete beneath them.

  Neal inspected Reece. His wounds inevitably would kill him, and he would be a weight they couldn’t carry. So without warning, he shot him in the head and barked orders to Simon, who stood with his mouth open in disapproval and shock at Neal’s actions.

  “What the hell, man?”

&nbs
p; “Do I need to report you to Clarke?”

  “Like I care!”

  “You undermining me?” Neal got nose to nose with Simon, pointing his Glock at Simon’s temple. “We have a mission, so find a goddamn vehicle or I shoot you.”

  Neal turned his head and spat. When he did, Simon punched him in the stomach and removed his Glock in one smooth fluid movement. Now he pointed the gun at a doubled over Neal.

  When Neal stood back up, his posture was stiff as a flagpole. He threw his hands in the air and started to dance around as his arms swayed from side to side.

  “What the fuck? Go on, boy, I dare you… I double-dare you!!”

  Simon was in no mood to play stupid games. He began to lower the Glock, and Neal reached behind him and pulled out another gun, a 9mm Colt Defender. As soon as Simon locked eyes on what Neal was doing, he raised the Glock and pulled the trigger. Neal shot at the same time.

  With both guns going off at the same time, it sent out a ringing sound as loud as tolling bells. Neal got Simon in the middle of his chest. He went down like a pile of bricks, saturating the concrete with his hot red liquid.

  Simon got Neal in the left cheek. He crumpled backward, spray-painting the car nearby as well as the concrete beneath him before his body fell completely over and lay perfectly still.

  A short while later, the two on bikes came through. They passed by their comrades without so much as a second look, bent on fulfilling Clarke’s orders. Following them, three hours behind, was the second Humvee. It slowed as it passed. The driver rolled his eyes as he diverted to another street to bypass the crashes.

  On the second day, the two bikers arrived at the pre-designated meeting place. The Humvee took four hours of extra time to get to the rendezvous point. The bikers were waiting for them at the New York Botanical Gardens.