by L. T. Ryan
“Clean other than this.”
He recognized the voice, but couldn’t attach it to a face.
A man broke from the ranks by the front of the trucks and approached. He stopped at the steps. His hand traveled across his darkened face.
“Sean Ryder.”
Sean squinted in an attempt to block out the bright headlights. He still couldn’t see the man’s face.
“You think you could draw those damn afflicted into my camp and get away with it?”
Sean shook his head as he tried to figure out what the man was talking about.
The guy climbed the steps to the deck, then crouched in front of Sean.
“Phil?”
The man nodded, said nothing.
“I didn’t…what are you talking about? Afflicted at your camp?”
“You fired your weapon and drew them in.” Phil rose. “Admit it!”
Sean said nothing. He shook his head and tried to piece together what had happened after he left on the ATV.
Then without warning Phil kicked Sean in the gut. “Where are the girls? Where’s my daughter?”
Sean fought to pull in a breath of air. At the moment it felt as though his lungs would collapse, a rush of oxygen filled them.
“Where?” Phil said.
“Dead,” Sean said.
Phil looked back. “You three, go search the place. Bring out anyone you find.” He turned back to Sean. “You’re gonna pay whether you’re telling the truth or not.”
The men stormed past Sean. One delivered a boot to his chest. He heard them knocking things over inside, calling out to one another to indicate an area was clear. Then he heard the words he dreaded.
“In here.”
Marley barked, then yelped.
“Stupid mutt.”
“This bitch is dead, man.”
One of the guys thumped through the house and stopped at the doorway. “Some woman on the bed back there all shot up.”
Phil looked down at Sean.
“I told you. Everyone’s dead.”
“Even my daughter?” Phil asked.
“These assholes shot us up at that house. What’d you expect happened?”
“We didn’t find any bodies there.”
“I moved them all. Gave them a proper burial. The woman back there was the only one that survived. In the end, I couldn’t save her, though.”
Phil turned and walked away. The men who’d entered the house now stood around Sean, aiming their rifles at him.
This is it. Everything I’ve been through and I’m going out like this.
“Get him up,” Phil said. “Bind his arms and put him in the truck with me.”
They had Sean halfway off the ground when Phil instructed them to stop.
“Remove his leg, then throw him in the truck.”
“Why don’t you just kill me now?” Sean said.
“Those men you killed in Virginia, they have families, Sean. We’re taking you back to face them. They’ll decide your fate. Or, I guess I should say, how you’ll die.”
Twenty-Six
Addison pulled Emma’s face into her chest to stifle the girl’s crying. They’d heard everything through the floorboards. Nothing she could do would ease Emma’s pain.
Footsteps rattled the floorboards above them. Dust and dirt cascaded on top of their heads. The men seemed to make another pass through the house, then filed out the front door.
Thoughts raced through Addison’s mind. What would happen to Sean? Should she ignore what he told her and try to follow the trucks instead of going to South Carolina? What would happen if she did? They’d run out of gas at some point. What would she do then? Did she have enough fuel to get to her grandparents instead?
You can’t, Addison. You promised Sean you’d get Emma to Turk.
What if they found the ATV?
The big V-8 engines roared to life and rumbled, idling in front of the cabin. Jenny cleared her throat and started so speak. Addison shoved her hand in the woman’s face.
“Keep quiet,” she whispered. “Stay still and don’t say a fucking word.”
Emma clutched tightly to Addison. From this point on she decided her sole focus and purpose was to deliver the girl safely. She’d figure out what to do after that.
The engines revved, then faded. They sounded further away with every passing second.
And Sean, too.
“They’re leaving,” Jenny said.
“I know,” Addison said. “We need to stay put for now.”
“We should get out of here,” Jenny said. “Before it’s too late.”
Addison started to respond, but stopped when she heard the sound of steps pattering above their head. She flinched at the sound.
Something scratched at the floor above them.
“What’s that?” Paige asked in a tiny voice.
A dog barked, then whined.
“That’s Marley. Jesus, I thought he was dead.” She crawled along the floor until she reached the trap door. She pushed against it, but it wouldn’t budge. “Jenny, come help me.”
The two women tried to dislodge the door, but it wouldn’t give.
Addison placed her lips next to the door seam. “Marley, get outside, buddy.”
His footsteps traced toward the front of the house, and then he was gone. She hoped he’d find his way to the ATV and wait there.
Addison panned her light across the crawlspace and honed in on the rear access. “I’m just going to go check it out. Take the light and keep it focused over there.”
Jenny took the flashlight. “Okay.”
Addison crawled along the floor. Water had leaked in and pooled in spots on the sheet of plastic that lined the floor. It felt refreshing and creeped her out at the same time. There had been an afflicted living in the cabin. Was there any chance the virus remained close and came in with the water?
She wished she understood more about what had happened. It seemed Sean knew, but he said little about it.
Addison stopped when she reached the crawl access. It was sealed shut, with only a slight ingress of breeze from outside. The wind knifed around her forehead. She placed her ear near the seam and closed her eyes.
A buzzing rode the cool current.
“Shit.”
“What is it?” Jenny asked.
“I think we’ve got visitors out there.” She scurried across the plastic, now glad for the puddles as they allowed her to skim across the floor. “Everyone stay quiet. Don’t move, talk, sneeze or yawn.”
The hum increased up in volume and intensity. Shrieks erupted from beyond the walls and above the floorboard. The afflicted filled the house, shuffling and staggering. Dozens of heavy thumps and scrapes and scratches echoed throughout the crawlspace.
Emma clung to Addison. Paige to Jenny. The women wrapped their arms around the girls while holding tight to their M4s. There were only two ways in. They had them covered.
Unless…
Addison didn’t allow her thoughts to go there. Not consciously, at least. But she knew that if the afflicted smelled them, or sensed them, or whatever it was that they did, those damned beings would claw their way through the hardwoods if they had to.
She fought to keep from flinching at every noise above. As the minutes passed, it sounded as though more afflicted had filled the cabin. There were growls, and indecipherable yells and screams. It sounded as though a fight had broken out. Bodies slammed into walls. The table above them scraped the floor. Windows shattered. The back door burst open. Something heavy hit the floor next to the table.
The fridge, perhaps?
Something leaked through the floor. It hit the top of Addison’s head. She shuffled a few feet over as the liquid crawled down her forehead and cheek. She wiped it off, refusing to attempt to determine what it was.
The footsteps gravitated toward the rear of the house. The sounds dampened at the back door. A stray scratch or thump mixed with the sounds of steps near the back door.
Addi
son stared at the crawlspace access. She knew it was going to burst open and one by one, the afflicted would crawl through. They had fewer than sixty shots between them. All the spare ammunition remained with the ATV unless Sean had moved it.
If he had, he hadn’t left it with her.
But the door never opened.
The buzzing persisted for an hour. Felt like forever, as the afflicted roamed around outside. A few reentered the house, but only to cross from front to back.
As the seconds passed, the hum faded, eventually replaced by another wave of thunder and lightning and heavy rain slamming against the cabin’s walls and roof. The storm had driven them away.
Emma fell asleep in Addison’s arms, and Paige in Jenny’s. Addison waited until all three were asleep, then reached the point where she could no longer fight off the fatigue.
Twenty-Seven
For the first half hour of the drive, Sean received a blow to the head if he so much as cleared his throat. Fist. Backhand. Rifle butt. They came from one of three men, with Phil doling out most of the punishment.
They had bound Sean’s hands and shoved him into the rear of the cab. On his right sat Ralph, who he’d met at Phil’s camp. He didn’t recognize the man on the other side. Phil had called the driver Barton when they were leaving.
The men stunk like raw earth and rotten fruit. Even after thirty minutes, Sean hadn’t adjusted to the smell.
Rain fell in sheets as lightning pummeled the surrounding area. The engine muffled some of the thunder, but at times it ricocheted so loudly the men jumped at the cracks. Gusts of wind rocked the truck. Barton corrected the wheel constantly to keep the truck from sliding into a ditch.
From where he sat, Sean had a view of the gas gauge. Less than half a tank remained. Might not be enough to get back to Virginia. The trucks were four wheel drive, equipped with big V-8 engines. They weren’t new, either. Late eighties or early nineties models. Sean figured they got eight to ten miles to the gallon. And though he’d traveled the distance in the ATV, at that moment he couldn’t determine how many miles they had to drive to get back. All along, Sean’s focus had been on getting to Turk’s compound. Anything behind was left in the past.
Forgotten.
He struggled not to do that now. Because what he had left behind would drive him forward and get him out of this situation alive.
He wondered if the women had left the cabin yet. He wasn’t sure whether he feared them staying or going more. Outside, they would have to deal with the storm, afflicted, and other survivors, though the weather might beat back the latter two. Inside, would they have to face the men he was with again? What about afflicted or survivors seeking shelter?
Addison was a smart woman. She’d ride out the storm before leaving. They were safe underneath the house. The men hadn’t discovered the hatch. The crawl access was invisible from the outside. Even if another group of people or afflicted found the house, they’d never locate the women.
If Sean could escape from the truck, he might be able to make it back in time.
If he had his leg.
Where had they put it?
He’d lost sight of the prosthetic after Phil had the men remove it. It wasn’t in the cab. God forbid they left it at the cabin. It was tough enough making it in this world with two good legs, let alone a titanium one. He was as good as dead without it.
Perhaps that was the plan. Phil had decided to drop him off in the middle of nowhere. Some place he knew afflicted had passed through. With no options other than to hop or crawl, Sean would perish.
He summoned the strength to suffer another beating. “Why are you doing this?”
Ralph drove his elbow into Sean’s side. Pain flashed through his ribs and he buckled to his right, onto the guy. Ralph pushed Sean away by jamming his elbow into the same spot. Sean bowed forward. Calloused fingers ran along his forehead and through his hair. They tightened, then jerked his head back. Phil had turned in his seat and the two men were eye to eye. His hot stank breath surrounded Sean’s face.
“I treated you as an equal,” Phil said. “Gave you supplies, weapons, and suitable transportation. You screwed me in response.”
Sean gritted his teeth. “How?”
“You led those damn afflicted to me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Sean wrenched himself free of the man’s grasp. “They were in the woods. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds. They were already descending upon you.”
“Don’t waste your breath, Ryder. I’m not listening to your lies.”
“You damn fool. You built that community above ground, no thought to waste or security. What did you think was going to happen? If your brother and his men couldn’t survive these things, what made you think your ragtag group—”
Phil smashed his fist into Sean’s face. Pain plowed through his nose and cheeks.
“Don’t you speak about my brother again.”
Sean reeled back. Blood pooled on his upper lip, then cascaded over and around. He licked at the thick, salty fluid.
“Where’s my leg?” Sean said.
Phil turned away in his seat and said nothing.
“What’d you do with it?”
Phil still said nothing.
“Dammit, Phil. Where is it?”
Without looking back, Phil said, “Forget about the leg, Ryder. It’s gone. Men behind us took it with instructions to chuck it five minutes after we left that cabin.”
Sean’s stomach knotted at the confirmation of his fear.
“Not like you’re going to need it, anyway.”
“What are you going to do with me?”
“Might just dump you over the next bridge we cross. Tied hands and one leg should be enough to finish the job in a couple minutes.” Phil turned his head, a smile plastered on his bearded face. “But that wouldn’t be fair to those folks who lost kin ‘cause of you. Now would it?”
Keep me alive, you son of a bitch. You’ll pay for it.
“I’m sure the punishment they dream up will be more than suitable.”
“Just let me go, man. Like you said, tied arms and one leg, I’m done for. Even out in the open. First afflicted that comes along, I’m breakfast, lunch and dinner.”
“Not with a missing leg, you’re not,” Phil said. “More like an appetizer.”
The men in the truck got a chuckle out of his comment.
Sean hoped his antics had cemented in Phil’s head that they’d take Sean to the camp. Was he better off for it? Perhaps not, but the longer they rode together, he felt he had a chance to overcome them.
The weather intensified over the next five minutes. Hail bounced off the truck, cracking the windshield on the upper right corner. A small tree snapped in front of them. It hit heavy power cables. They sagged, but stopped the tree from blocking the road.
“Maybe we should hole up, Phil,” Barton said.
“Keep going.”
“This ain’t no regular storm, man.”
“I said, keep going.”
“All right, fine, whatever.”
Keeping the vehicle straight turned into a chore for Barton. The man hovered over the steering wheel. His arms bowed out to the side, hands wrapped around the wheel at ten and two. He jerked it left and right, correcting every time the truck was blown off course.
Sean glanced back, saw two sets of headlights behind them. They’d fallen behind some, no doubt the drivers of those vehicles had no choice but to follow.
Let them fall back even further. Makes it easier for me.
He’d rather deal with four men than twelve or however many were packed into the other pickups.
As the minutes passed, the storm lulled Sean into a serene state. His training and instincts kicked in. He’d been taken prisoner once as a PJ. It had been early in his career, on a mission in Syria that probably only fifteen people knew about. He’d gone in to save a pilot who had ejected from his F-18 moments before it had crashed. As a result, the pilot had come in too hot and suffered what
turned out to be life-ending trauma. Sean had found the man dead. And then they had found him. He had spent two weeks, starved and tortured, before Turk lead a squad from SEAL Team 8 and rescued Sean.
“Don’t see them anymore.”
Roused from his memories, Sean opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of Barton staring in the rear-view.
Phil slugged one arm around and turned in his seat. He peered past Sean into the black.
“Could be due to the rain,” Phil said. “Blocking the view.”
Barton shook his head. “Doesn’t feel right, man. Something’s wrong.”
“What are you suggesting we do? Turn around?”
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”
Phil placed his hand on Barton’s shoulder. “We keep moving forward. I’m sure they’re only slowed down by the weather.”
“That’s a lot of men back there. Imagine what my camp is going to say when we come home without them? You think they’re gonna take kindly to bringing this guy back if it means we lost brothers, husbands, fathers?”
My camp?
Sean pieced together the puzzle. The night Sean was at Phil’s camp, the man had mentioned they had another settlement established. And now Sean understood that Barton was in charge there. And after weeks of being the leader, he was forced to succumb to Phil’s wishes. If Sean could widen the fracture between the two men with a simple bending of the truth, he might be able to force his way out of the truck. Conditions were less than ideal, but he’d rather die at the hands of nature than by Phil’s doing.
“When I was in Nigeria,” Sean said. “We encountered these things, the afflicted. Crazy thing was the weather. We were camped out on a ridge near the facility.” He shifted his gaze and met Phil’s as lightning flashed close by and lit up the cab. “The one where they killed your brother. Anyway, damn rain came down almost as intense as this.”
“So?” Phil said.
“So, it whipped the afflicted into a frenzy. They went nuts, attacking each other, and then us. The most violent I saw them. It seemed as though the weather made them more aggressive, stronger.”