I turned back to her.
“Don’t worry, we won’t let them hurt you again.”
She turned back to me and finally met my eyes. “Thanks but it doesn’t matter.”
Her eyes were a piercing blue and looked defeated. She fell silent again.
I swallowed thickly and moved to examine the little girl, Gisele. Her mother was sitting next to her and had pulled her daughter onto her lap. She rocked back and forth as she held the still form, and sang a quiet lullaby. Little Gisele looked red and flushed, but her skin looked dry, not sweaty. I could hear her rough breathing as she lay unconscious.
As her mother held her, softly crooning her song, I saw tears were running down the woman’s face. She didn’t look up at me as I knelt beside her and her daughter. She had closed off the entire world; there was only her little girl. She concentrated on her rocking, on her soft singing. I stood there for a few minutes, watching, and swallowed back tears of my own as I thought of my own mother, Alyssa, lying near death in a bed back home, just as red and flush as little Gisele.
“How are they doing?” DeAndre asked as he and the others walked up to us.
“Well, they’re hurt. But they’ll probably make it,” I said, staring at Gisele and her mother.
“The girl is partially catatonic, from the plague and ordeal,” Jonathan said. “This lady and man will recover, but they’re probably in a lot of pain. Right now the shock of the situation is providing a natural anesthesia, but soon their systems will calm down enough to where they’ll really feel those burns. The salve I’m putting on is a topical analgesic, among other things, so it will help a lot with the pain, but it cannot block it entirely.” He moved to check the lady’s bandages.
DeAndre, Dad and I stood guard over Jonathan and the victims he was treating, while Zach made sure the wood fires were completely out.
A few of the townspeople were still arguing with us in French, but after about 10 minutes, they started walking away.
“What do you want to do about them?” I asked Dad and DeAndre. D just shook his head; Dad stood there thinking. After a minute he turned to Jonathan.
“Can they travel?” I remembered the doc back home telling us Mom couldn’t travel with us to Boston. In the middle and later stages of the plague, incubation victims were highly unstable. Any kind of trauma could accelerate the pathogen’s takeover of the human brain, and they could immediately turn, without warning.
Jonathan sat back on his heels and rubbed his head. “Well, it’s always a risk, but especially with the little girl,” we all looked over at Gisele rocking in her mother’s arms. “Anything could happen.”
I looked at Dad’s face. He seemed to make a decision and walked over to crouch next to Gisele and her mother.
Jonathan watched him, and said to us quietly, “The fright of being tied to a pole and almost being set on fire may have hastened the illness as much as any physical jostling. That mob manhandling her was bad enough, but she witnessed two people get set on fire and knew it was going to happen to her, too, in a minute. If that’s not enough to cause mental trauma, I don’t know what is.” He glanced down at the woman with gauze wrapped legs. She was watching Dad.
Dad spoke quietly to Gisele’s mother, putting his arm around the woman’s shoulders to reassure her. Then she nodded, wiped her eyes and, carefully laying Gisele on the grass, stood up and trotted over the hill to the street like a woman on a mission. Dad looked down at little Gisele for a moment longer, then stood and came to talk to Claude and the other woman. She saw him approach and seemed curious. I walked over so I could hear what he was saying.
“So, if you all got together and followed us to Boston, we might be able to help you,” I heard him say. She looked up at him, frightened yet hopeful.
“Okay,” she said, looking around the area. The mob had disappeared. “Yes, I want to try.”
Dad nodded and went to talk with the businessman. I crouched near the woman.
“Hi. What’s your name?” I asked.
“Victoria,” she said. “But everyone calls me Vee.” She looked over at Dad who was talking quietly to the suited, burned man. “Can he really help us?” She seemed almost disbelieving.
“That man over there, along with my mother, got us out of the initial contagion area nearly 20 years ago. He’s saved my life countless times. He’s amazing.” I looked down at her and smiled. “You’ll be in good hands with him.”
“Hey, Jake is great, Luke, but don’t sell yourself short,” DeAndre said, then turned to Vee. “This fellow, singlehandedly, is an army of one.” He patted me on the shoulders and smiled. Vee smiled at us both, and seemed satisfied.
I felt good about Dad’s plan to have them follow us, I smiled up at D and he smiled back. This was great; we’d get these poor people to the only place that could probably help them in time, and be able to continue on the last leg our journey. Everything was going to work out.
“AHHH!!!!!” DeAndre screamed as some guy rushed out of the woods behind him and tried to club him over the head with a branch. He ducked just in time, and the blow caught him mostly across the shoulders.
“EYYAAHHHH!!!!!!” screamed another guy as he ran out of the trees at Claude, intent on hitting him with a crowbar raised above his head as he ran.
“HEY!” I lunged and grabbed the crowbar from his arms before he could bring it down on the man lying there. I swung my other hand around and gave a great shove, and the jerk flew backwards a few feet before hitting the ground hard. Looking up, I saw the mob coming through the trees. They had circled back around while we were talking.
DeAndre had dropped to one knee and was clutching his head. Three more crazed loonies ran toward him and Vee. I grabbed my shotgun and stepped between them. Pointing the muzzle at the murderous mob coming for us again, I waited. Suddenly, I heard a shotgun blast behind me, Dad had squeezed one off into the sky, as a warning. I saw Jonathan grab his own firearm and stand between his patients and the mob.
Well, this was certainly déjà vu, I thought, as I stood there watching the rest of mob come out of the trees and gather again in front of us. This time, there were two new guys; they came out front and began to talk, in English this time. Maybe the mob had grabbed them from nearby so they could better communicate with us. Did they really think that would make a difference? Language barrier or not, we weren’t letting them execute these people.
“You people are insane. We have to eliminate these Infected. The law says we can,” bozo number one said with a scowl.
“The law doesn’t say you can murder people in cold blood,” replied Dad, walking around to the front. “You have no right to be judge, jury and executioner, even in the case of a plague.”
“You’re strangers. I get that,” bozo number two said, stepping forward, trying to sound reasonable. “We are just trying to protect our families, our neighborhood.” He looked back at his fellows, then turned around again. “See, just a few days ago we had one turn, and he killed a whole family. We can’t wait for these guys to turn; they might hurt someone. We need to take care of this business now.” He seemed confident we would see his side of things.
“Enough with the good cop/bad cop spiel,” DeAndre said, his patience gone. He looked angry. I pitied the guy on the left, who’d clubbed him. D was holding back, I could see. But he wanted to beat the guy into the ground. DeAndre raised his shotgun, aimed it toward the mob and pulled the trigger. A loud shout rang over the area, and the shot whizzed just over their heads.
“We are going to take these people, just give us a chance.”
“No chances! NONE!” The guy who said this seemed half crazed, and he ran at DeAndre with his crowbar, screaming like some soldier going into battle. He was only a dozen feet away, and there was no time to think. He had forced the issue. A word of advice: Never pit a crowbar against a powerful shotgun, even if you have rage and a dose of adrenalin on your side.
DeAndre pulled the trigger, there was a huge BOOM! The guy fell at his
feet, his chest blown open, a surprised look on his face. He was dead. D looked up at the rest of the mob, his face grim. He spoke in a low voice.
“I am a trained Sanctuary soldier.” At this, the mob’s eyes grew wider. They had heard of our fight and rescue team. “If you do not turn around and walk away, I will not hesitate to shoot each and every one of you. Now go. NOW.”
With one last shocked look at their fallen comrade, every man in that mob turned and hurried away.
SIXTEEN
I looked at the guy on the grass, and then at Zach next to me. Sometimes you just have one of those days. We’d been having a lot of those days recently. Zach looked shocked at first, then he turned away, scanning the area around us. The mob had run off, and we were now alone on the deserted field, the two uninjured victims standing nearby. They’d bunched up together with us during the tense scene, and you could tell they felt no connection to the people who’d nearly killed them.
“Jake, when is Gisele’s mother coming back with that van?” DeAndre said.
“Should be here any minute.” He turned to those standing nearby. “You can either go home and take your chances with your friendly neighborhood mob, or come with us. We can’t promise anything, but we’re headed to Boston and there may be the possibility of a cure there.”
They looked stunned. Claude was already flushed with the start of a fever, and Vee was mute with astonishment. Then, they both started talking at the same time.
“What? You mean something can be done?”
“Have you found a treatment?”
“Is there a cure now?”
“Oh my god! Yes! I’m coming with you!” This from the uninjured woman. The uninjured man standing next to her nodded as well.
“I want to leave right away, I don’t care. They may come back,” said Claude, and then promptly fainted onto the grass.
“Uh oh, here we go,” Jonathan mumbled as he went to check on him. Just then, a silver van pulled up onto the grass and trundled over to us, Gisele’s mother driving. She stopped a dozen feet away and hopped out; the passenger door opened and a whirlwind flew out and ran around to Gisele.
“GISELE!” The whirlwind was a girl, about age 11, with short brown hair, a black KISS T-shirt on and jeans. Scuffed-up tennis shoes completed the picture. She sat herself down at Gisele’s side and began rubbing her arm.
Jonathan came over. “Hi there. Is this your sister?”
“Non, she is my cousin, but we are close like sisters,” the girl said in a heavy accent. Gisele’s mother came over with a bottle of water and began to wipe Gisele’s face with it.
“All right, let’s get everyone into the van,” Dad said. “The mob may come back.” He went and gently picked up Gisele and walked with her over to the back of the van, trailing Gisele’s mother and cousin.
I turned to Zach and said, “Come on.” Together, with Jonathan and DeAndre’s help, we got everyone settled in the back. Makeshift blankets and pillows were set up back there, and the two unharmed victims sat in the front. We were ready to go in less than ten minutes. I took one more look around the area. It looked deserted.
“Almost seems like it never happened, huh?” Zach stood next to me looking out into the trees.
I nodded. “But it did. This plague is turning us into monsters, one person at a time.” I turned and walked down to our black SUV.
With one last look at the field and trees, the ground still scorched from the makeshift fires and the poles the people had been tied to still sticking straight up as a testament to what almost happened there, we pulled away from the curb. The silver van followed us slowly as we wound our way around the curve of the park and through the neighborhood again. As we passed by houses painted picture perfect, everything was quiet; in fact, the roads were pretty much deserted. It looked like a ghost town.
We were almost out of the town when there were several hits to the side of the SUV.
THUMP!
THUMP!!! THUMP!!!
A heavy brick landed on our hood and dented it before tumbling off to the side. Dad veered off in surprise, then straightened out. I looked behind us and saw there were more bricks being thrown at the silver van following us.
“Those nuts are attacking us?” Zach cried out, incredulous. Suddenly a blue sedan rammed into the side of our SUV, it had come out of a garage we were passing. Our vehicle bounced to the side a little, but then came back down on four wheels again and kept going. Several more cars appeared alongside of us, the drivers turning their wheels and hitting the side of our SUV as Dad tried to drive. Behind us, the silver van was having similar troubles.
“GODALMIGHTY!” DeAndre said, furious.
“Just try to gun it, Jake!” said Jonathan.
“Wait!” I had just seen the van behind us knocked sideways and stop. They were in trouble. “They’ve been rammed sideways, Dad!” Zach and I were riveted by the drama behind us. I glanced down at Risa, on the stretcher in the back, unconscious. Jonathan was half lying across her.
“We’ve got to get out of here!”
“Dammit, I’m trying!”
“I can’t believe these idiots!”
“Jake, you have to stop!”
This last was from DeAndre. He’d seen the van was stopped and unable to proceed. As we came to a stop, three cars swung forward and blocked our way out. Behind us, four more cars with crazed lunatics were ramming the van.
“Goddammit, I am going to beat some heads in,” DeAndre mumbled, grabbing his shotgun and reloading it.
“I’m coming with you. Luke? You in?” Dad asked.
“You need to ask?” I grabbed my shotgun. Zach next to me grabbed his as well.
“Jonathan, get in the driver’s seat, in case we need a quick getaway,” Dad said.
“Like heck, I wouldn’t miss this for the world!” Jonathan grabbed his shotgun and swung out of the SUV and followed us. We all were furious.
DeAndre’s feet hit the ground first, followed almost immediately by Dad and me, out two different doors. Zach and Jonathan were right behind us. The angry mob had all gotten out of their cars and were screaming in French at the driver of the van.
BOOM!!! BABOOM!!!!! DeAndre and Dad let off rounds almost simultaneously, into the sides of two different cars. The owners looked at us in astonishment. Without pausing, I turned to the cars rammed up against the silver van. Glancing into the van at Gisele’s mother in the driver’s seat and seeing her scared face, I smiled and winked, then let off a blast at the hood of the car nearest me. KABOOM!!!!!! Our firearms were serious. High caliber, double barreled, short muzzled, they were deadly. Zach next to me began firing at the car rammed up on the other side.
BBBOOM!!!!!!!!!
BOOM!!!
BBBOOOOOM!!!!!!
KABOOOOOM!!!!!
Blasts rang out and shattered the silence of the quiet neighborhood that had decided to turn vigilante against the Sanctuary Force. Big mistake. Huge mistake.
The five of us stood with our backs to our SUV and let blast after blast ring out into those cars, and the people who had poured out quickly ducked behind them. Smoke and the smell of gunpowder filled the air. You did not mess with the Sanctuary Team. Never. Not unless you wanted your ass handed to you. After about 5 minutes, Dad waved at us to stop. As we waited for the smoke to clear, there was utter silence. I kept the muzzle of my shotgun trained on the nearest car; I knew at least three idiots were hiding behind it - nuts who had first tried to burn five plague victims alive, then had rushed us, and now had pursued us and tried to take us down. When would they ever learn?
“GET IN YOUR CARS AND DRIVE BACK TO THE NORTH END OF TOWN,” Dad’s strong voice rang out. “IF YOU ARE NOT GONE IN 30 SECONDS WE WILL OPEN FIRE AND WALK AROUND YOUR CARS AND SEND YOU TO YOUR MAKER!”
DeAndre smiled at this and glanced over at his friend beside him. “Good one, Jake.”
“Think they’ll listen?”
“They’d better. I’m tired, I’m hungry, and I have had enough of th
ese people.” D glanced back at the men who were now scrambling to get into their cars. They hurriedly backed up, leaving pieces on the ground, and metal and glass sliding off their hoods, and turned their cars around. They said nothing. Scared looks on their faces told the whole story. They seemed to have finally gotten the message.
I looked into the silver van at people who would follow us to Boston, and they were cheering. I chuckled to myself and smiled.
As the last of the cars moved away down the street and out of sight, Dad went to check on Gisele’s mother, trailing Jonathan. They were back within minutes, smiling.
“They’re fine. Let’s get out of here,” Dad looked around the street, which was littered with car parts and glass from shattered windows. Shaking his head, he patted me on the back. “How’re you doing, Luke?”
“Oh, I’m fine. You’re right: let’s get out of here.”
We all got into our vehicles and pulled out of town.
SEVENTEEN
We drove on without further incident, which was good, because we were exhausted. This trip had been fraught with constant trouble, and I for one was eager for it to be over. The continuous excitement and adventure had helped get my mind off of Mom, but I didn’t want my mind off my mother. I wanted to remember why we were on this journey, why we had started it, why we were so desperately trying to get to Boston. So as we raced down the freeway, I stared out the window and thought of my mom.
Thoughts of the good times of the past years ran through my head, and I alternated between smiling and silently crying as I remembered. At one point, Zach put his hand on my shoulder and rubbed it gently. He seemed to know without asking what I was feeling. I glanced back at him, and he smiled gently and I saw tears in his eyes. He felt the same urgency and loss of a woman he’d never even met. I’d been telling him about Mom, about all the adventures we’d all had, about what a fantastic mother and Sanctuary fighter she was, and Zach had come to know her through my words. Dad, DeAndre, and Jonathan had pitched in their own stories, some of them of the times before I was even born, and Zach was enthralled by the harrowing story of their escape from the Central California valley way back when the zombie plague had started. They told the story of how their teacher Coach Turner, their friend Connor, and then their friend Emily had all fallen to the insidious craziness during the first stages of the epidemic back in 2012. Back when this whole zombie outbreak began and had turned their normal lives into a mad world.
Mad World (Book 3): Desperation Page 11