The Longest Road (Book 2): The Change

by Thompson, A. S.

  Travis knew that within seconds he would be backed up against the chain fencing with nowhere to go. So, he made a split second, risky decision.

  As the man drove forward, Travis fell to his back while simultaneously bringing both legs inward to his chest. Tommy Bahama fell with him, but Travis managed to prop his feet against the man's stomach. As the second lieutenant rolled to his back, he pressed with all of his might and launched Tommy Bahama over him like a wrestler.

  The man landed face first in the sand near the fence-line.

  The bikers had hoped for a bloody end, but cheered at the spectacle.

  Travis knew this was his only chance.

  “Damnit! Where is it?” he thought, crawling around the sand, desperately searching for his only weapon.

  Travis could hear the man laboring to his feet. It was only a matter of seconds before he would charge again. As he searched desperately for the knife, his hands began to tremble from a mix of adrenaline and fear.

  “Arrrrrghhhhh,” came the distinct sound behind him. The final charge had begun.

  Travis knew his time for searching was up. Now it was decision time. Get up and try to fight or keep looking for the knife. Then, like mana from Heaven, the answer was delivered to him. His right hand dragged through the sand, then collided into the blade, slicing the side of his palm. The cut was more than marginal, but there was no time to wallow in pain.

  The hairs on the back of Travis neck flared up, as though his body could sense the immediate threat. Indeed, Tommy Bahama had lunged at the exact moment Travis rotated to his back. A second later, the man's weight came crashing down, sandwiching Travis against the cold sand.

  ***

  Silence befell the campground. No one was sure what happened or who won, only that the fight was over. Neither body moved; not even a flinch.

  Assuming the worst, Tyler released an accidental gasp, one of anxious worry.

  Then, Tommy Bahama's body appeared to be shifting, but it was Travis who was pushing the monster away. As Tommy Bahama rolled to his back, every spectator saw the six-inch blade planted firmly in the man’s eye socket.

  The second lieutenant was exhausted and he panted like a dog, but he rose to his feet like a warrior. Sand covered the bloody gash on his hand, but the stinging pain didn’t faze him.

  Despite his success, many cheered and celebrated the fight as a whole.

  Realizing how blatantly obvious his reaction was, Tyler looked around, making sure no one caught the panicked reaction. Satisfied that no one saw, including Jimmy, Tyler released a quiet celebration.

  “Now that's what I call entertainment!” Jimmy shouted, clapping his hands. “Bring out the next one!”

  As Travis was escorted back to the Ranger Station, Tyler turned to the Grim Reaper and said, “Yo, Jimmy, I'm gonna go get a refill. You want anything?”

  “Naw, hermano I'm good,” Jimmy responded, relaxing in his chair like a king. “Hurry back, you don't wanna miss round two.”

  “Odelay, carnal,” Tyler replied nonchalantly. When he was out of sight, Tyler detoured to the Ranger Station.

  ***

  Unbeknownst to Tyler, Estrella had been watching him ever since he tossed in the blade. She knew that Tyler had never offered up a weapon in a match before. Sure, Jimmy or one of the others had, but never Tyler. Furthermore, Estrella knew that Tyler preferred never to watch the fights.

  Each of these by themselves constituted nothing more than inconsistency in an ever changing world, but there was one thing she couldn’t make sense of. Clear as day, she saw Tyler's discrete celebration.

  Curious, Estrella excused herself and secretly followed Tyler; stalking him like a jungle cat.

  1912 hours

  West pedaled harder and harder. Despite the laboriousness that he exerted and the insanity his plan consisted of, the sergeant major shed no indications of fatigue or fright.

  As quickly as he could, West skidded the bike to a halt and jumped off. He pressed against the bleeding, self-inflicted wound on the back of his hand. When enough blood rushed to the surface, he smeared the contents on the nearest tree. Then, he hopped back on the bike and continued cycling.

  He could hear the distant cheers coming from Camp.

  He could hear the distant moans closing in behind him.

  His trail of breadcrumbs was working.

  1915 hours

  Wally Spencer was nudged forward by the barrel of a sawed off shotgun. Like the others inside the station, Wally had not seen the outcome of the Travis’ fight. As he drew closer to the pit, he saw the body of Tommy Bahama being dragged out and a knife lodged in the man’s eye socket.

  Shoulders pulled back, Travis exited the cage displaying unwavering confidence.

  “Keep your head up, Wally,” Travis said, as the two fighters passed one another. “You can do this.”

  Wally nodded his head and replied, “Thanks, Travis. See you soon.”

  As he neared the entrance to the cage, a rush of anxiety flooded into Wally's head. But, when he saw Lisa, he regained the lost confidence. He was determined to come out of the event alive.

  “Dad!” Lisa said, running past the guard. She didn't care if the action brought about physical discipline.

  Wally met Lisa's embrace and the father and daughter shared a moment of love. The guard escorting Wally attempted to break the two apart, but Wally pled to Jimmy for a last wish.

  “Please, just give me one minute with my daughter! I’ll give you a good fight!”

  After receiving the confirmation from Jimmy to allow it, the guard stepped back.

  In sign language, Lisa started the communication.

  “Dad, they are making you guys fight the infected!”

  “I know, sweetheart. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. How are you being treated?”

  “I can't help it.”

  Tears began filling the pits of her eyes. Lisa did her best to remain composed, but she was losing the inner struggle.

  “We’re fine. They harass us and slap us around, but nothing big. They aren'ttouching us, at least haven’t yet.”

  “That’s good.”

  Wally put his hand on Lisa’s face and looked into her eyes. He smiled and continued, “I love you, honey. No matter what happens to me, never stop fighting. Okay? Always do what’s right.”

  “Dad! You have to survive! Elias has a plan and he should be back soon! He is going to get us out of here, so you better win, okay? Tell the others when you get back, okay?”

  Wally was shocked to hear about Elias and the escape plan.

  But before he had a chance to inquire more, Jimmy shouted, “That’s long enough! Eduardo toss him in the cage!”

  Quickly, they embraced again. Lisa planted a kiss of courage on Wally’s cheek and whispered “I love you” into his ear.

  Then, the guard named Eduardo dragged Wally over and shoved him into the arena.

  Inside the sandy pit, Wally walked toward the far side of the cage.

  “I saw the knife from the first fight. Don't I get a weapon?”

  Jimmy laughed a hearty laugh and his minions followed suit.

  “Ask and you shall receive,” he replied. He hopped off the table, reached down and picked up a nearby rock, about the size of a softball. He tossed it over the fence, and the stone landed in the middle of the pit.

  Wally looked at the rock, then back at Jimmy. “Seriously? You have got to be kidding me.”

  The Grim Reaper smiled. He truly loved the torment he created.

  “You should have asked for something specific, amigo. And if I were you, I would probably get it before...well I was gonna say before your opponent got here, but too late!”

  Panic struck like an exposed nerve. Wally rotated around and stared eye to eye with his enemy.

  Half of the woman's body was deteriorating, but her ferocity was increasing. Her white tank top had been stained by blood and months of bad weather. Her worn-out, navy-green shorts revealed a compound-fractured tibia.
The exposed bone was more of a nuisance as the used-to-be-human shambled forward.

  “Go Wally!” he uttered to himself.

  Realizing that his window of opportunity was closing, Wally beelined toward the blunt object. But in less than a second, came the beginning of the end.

  Steps away from the rock, Wally slipped on a section of loose sand, sending him face first into the ground. And as if the fall wasn't bad enough, he cracked the bridge of his nose on the rock.

  Laughter erupted around the makeshift arena. The bikers threw in empty beer cans and whatever trash that had enough weight to travel into the pit.

  “Daddy!” Lisa said, throwing down her tray.

  As quickly as she could, she rushed toward the fence. She knew what was going to happen next, and no amount of prayer or hope was going to change anything. It was too late for her dad.

  “Wha- happene…” Wally tried to say.

  Dazed, he brought a sand-covered hand to his nose. He felt the swelling begin and winced at the pain. Blood gushed through his nostrils and pooled next to his face. For a moment, he didn't realize where he was.

  Then it happened. A sharp, unforgettable pain. The woman's canine teeth punctured the side of Wally’s neck, piercing the jugular vein.

  “Ahhhh!” Wally screamed. The pain was excruciating and was only topped by the flesh tearing from his body. His eyes met Lisa's and everything seemed to slow. He observed the horrified expression on his daughter's face; the combination of anger and panic that compelled her to shake the fence wildly; to squeeze the metal so hard that it sliced into her petite fingers.

  The time it took the woman to bite him and tear away his flesh seemed like an eternity; he could only relate the sensation to what Hell was like. He watched his daughter shake and cry and shake some more, and the bikers cheer and laugh and cheer some more.

  Wally knew he was a dead man walking, but seeing the dread and misery in his daughter's eyes was like receiving a super shot of fighting power.

  There’s no way you’re going out like this,he thought. If you’re going to give Lisa one final life lesson, it’s going to be to fight hard and never quit.

  The undead woman dove back down- this time clamping her jaws on Wally’s shoulder.

  But Wally didn't just take the pain, he used it. He clenched his teeth, grabbed a wad of the woman's hair and yanked her off. The act tore away another mouthful of flesh, but because of her broken leg, the woman had temporarily collapsed to her butt- never to stand erect again.

  Wally rose to one knee and prepared for his assault. Even though blood spurt from his exposed artery, he paid no attention to it. He was going to make the most of the minutes of life that remained. He inhaled a steady breath, and then charged at her. There was no set attack plan, everything was pure, adrenaline filled rage.

  First, he grabbed a wad of her hair, cocked his leg back and delivered a powerful knee to her chin. He felt and heard her jaw crack, then shatter on impact. Her teeth exploded from her mouth, sounding like Pop-Rocks. When she tried to get up, Wally stomped on her already broken leg, severing the bone completely. The only thing keeping the lower limb attached to her body was a sliver of skin.

  Like a crazed warrior, Wally didn't stop there. He grabbed the rock, straddled the woman in a full mount and began bashing her head in. Blow, after blow, after blow, Wally didn't stop until the bits of her skull were infused into the sand.

  He would have continued to bash her head until the pieces were as big as salt grains, but blood loss had caught up to him. All the blood traveling to Wally’s face had long since drained away, leaving his skin a ghostly white. His breaths grew shallower and his movements slowed dramatically.

  The cold embrace of Death was near, but it's presence was strangely comforting. Wally wished for more time, wished to remain on this cursed planet to raise and protect his daughter, but fate had different plans.

  With his last bit of energy, the last seconds of life that coursed through his veins, Wally crawled to his daughter.

  All around them, the bikers cheered and celebrated, raising glasses at the bloody bout, but their voices were washed out by the moment. The metal fence physically divided the two, but their love transcended the barrier.

  Wally navigated his fingers through the bars, meeting Lisa's on the other side. With his right hand, he signed the words, “I love you. I'll always be with you.”

  Lisa wept. Her beautiful face was twisted and stamped with rage, pain, anger, hate, love and a thousand other emotions. She said and signed back the words, “I love you, too.”

  Wally smiled.

  Then, Lisa watched as her father let go and passed on to the next world. She felt his fingers go limp, then his body, as it slumped forward against the cold, metal fence.

  ***

  Kelly and Jenny rushed over. Each took one arm and helped Lisa to her feet, then embraced her.

  Sarah tried to join the girls, but was yanked back in place by Jimmy.

  “Not so fast, señorita,” he said, grabbing her arm so hard the skin bruised. With Tyler still gone, Jimmy gave the orders directly to the man closest to him. “Dizzy! Go put a bullet in that white boy before he gets back up!”

  Dizzy Torres nodded his head in affirmation, but as he took a step forward, he stopped and grabbed his stomach. A second later, he dropped to his knees and sent a stream of projectile vomit through the air. A second and third stream followed. After the contents of his stomach were emptied, he dry-heaved one last time, then wiped his lips and said, “Sorry, boss, I don't feel so good.”

  The other bikers laughed at their companion's blight. Even his twin brother, Ruben, joined in.

  He pat Dizzy on the back and said, “What's the matter hermano? Can't party like you used to?” Ruben looked up to Jimmy, racked the slide back on his pistol and said, “I got it, jefe.”

  Jimmy pulled Sarah in close and sniffed the back of her hair.

  “What do you think about the fight, mija? Does it turn you on? I’m gettin’ crazy hard.”

  Sarah grit her teeth. “You're sick! All of you! You can all go to hell!”

  Jimmy leaned back, amused. Then, he ran his hand down Sarah’s chest and inside her bra. She tried fighting the sexual assault, but it was no use. Jimmy’s cold hand cupped her warm breast and he moaned in ecstasy.

  “I like you, mija. I can tell you’re feisty. I can't wait to see if that body of yours is just as wild.”

  Sarah squirmed. “Fuck you!”

  “Jimmy,” Estrella shouted, jogging over to the table. She saw her boyfriend’s hand pull back from Sarah's chest. She was equal parts jealous and aroused. “You need to come with me, now!”

  “Ahh, qué pasó? What is it?” Jimmy said, vexed. He didn't like the interruption. “Can it wait?”

  “No. Trust me, you're gonna thank me.”

  “Better be, or you're gonna bethanking me all night long,” he replied. The sentence was full of sexually abusive innuendos.

  Jimmy whistled loud to get everyone's attention. “Listen up! When I get back, we are on to round three. So get more food and get fucked up, cause the night is just startin’!”

  The men hooted and hollered. Many clanked glasses together in celebration. Those with drugs shot, swallowed, snorted or lit them up.

  A lone gunshot rang throughout Camp, putting Wally Spencer down for good.

  On the outside, Lisa mourned the loss of her father, but inside, she tensed up and replaced the void with anger. She would do just as her dad told her. She would not lie down and take the injustice, she would fight back. Through her tears and pain, Lisa knew it was only a matter of time.

  1925 hours

  Two sentries, Smalls and Stitch, stood near the front gate. Being the newest members of Los Tres Demonios, they were always the first to be nominated for the worst jobs. Together they huddled, watching the fights from a distance. They complained about everything: the cold, their guard duty, their lack of intoxication.

  Standing at six foot fou
r inches tall, Smalls was a giant among his shorter Hispanic brethren.

  “Yo, Stitch, you think we'll get taken off duty soon?” he asked, trying to pass the time.

  Stitch received his nickname from the plethora of stitches he sustained throughout his criminal career. His body had suffered multiple injuries ranging from prison shanks to street bullets.

  “Shit, man, I hope so. I'm freezing my ass off here while they have all the fun.”

  Suddenly, Smalls turned at the sound of cracked branches. “What's that?”

  Stitch illuminated his flashlight and shined it into the nearby forest.

  “What?”

  “Sounded like something was moving out there.”

  “Idiota,” Stitch cursed after finding nothing. “Of course there's something moving out there. It's a damn forest. Plus thosethings are all over the place.”

  “Don't call me an idiot.”

  “Whatever. I gotta take a piss,” Stitch said, walking toward the massive scout's tree. He used his flashlight to guide the way. “You gonna be okay without me? Not gonna get too scared?

  “Fuck off. Don't come crying to me when you get your dick bit off.”

  As Stitch sauntered off, Smalls turned around, cupped his hands and blew warm air into them. He hummed his favorite mariachi song and waited. After thirty-seconds, he got anxious and called out, “Damn hermano, how much piss you got?”

  When there was no reply, Smalls turned around. He noticed Stitch’s flashlight on the ground, but his friend was nowhere in sight.

  “Yo, man where you at?” Smalls said, walking over to investigate. “If you're trying to scare me or some shit, I'm gonna mess you up, you hear me?”

  As Smalls drew nearer to the Western Redcedar, he heard something, but it wasn't words.

  “I'm telling you hermano, if you're fuckin’ with me, I'm gonna beat the shit outta you, so cut that shit out.”

  He picked up Stitch’s flashlight and used it to illuminate a small puddle of urine. He traced it around the massive trunk, and on the other side, he located his friend.