Bo and Sarah were startled out of sleep at 2:17 am by the crackle of gunfire in the distance.
“Stay here,” Bo instructed, throwing on a pair of jeans and jacket, then grabbing the M16 semi-automatic weapon that he kept next to the bed. “Head to the cellar if the gunfire gets closer.”
Sarah felt panicky as Bo shut the front door, leaving, the sound of more gunfire erupting in the distance. As Bo approached the disturbance, he saw over a dozen people standing back, watching as Brett fired his weapon through the grates in the fence. The spotlights lit up the scattered infected that raged outside the perimeter.
“Motherfuckers,” Brett swore, his attention completely focused on the infected. “I will kill every last fucking one of you. If there is another nest somewhere, I will hunt you down and take you all the fuck down.”
Approaching him carefully, Bo could see no immediate threat and asked, “Brett, what’s happening? What’s wrong?”
Brett turned, a pained and angered expression etched across his face.
“Travis is dead. The infection is airborne.” The statement came out flat, without any emotion. He lowered his weapon, looking dazed. “We’re going to need canister masks. I’ll get a large stock tomorrow. We need to finish off this fence. We need more razor wire. I know where to go for it.”
“Holy shit,” Bo said, startled, taking a step back. He wanted to ask more questions but needed to address the loss of Travis first. “I’m really sorry, Brett. I know he was a good friend. He was a good man, too. He will be missed.” Not wanting their conversation to be overheard, he took a quick glance at those hanging back straining to hear, then moved forward a foot. “You certain it's airborne?"
Brett nodded tightly. "We got too close. Him especially. As soon as he got sick I had a feeling."
"Shit. That changes everything."
"I know." Brett took a deep breath. "Most of the perimeter fence is up. We'll finish it off and get the razor wire. I know where some is."
Bo added quietly, “We’ll do something, you know. To honor him. We’d all be dead without him.”
Brett stared back blankly. “Let’s make this place safe and kill the fucking zombies. That’s all the honor he would want. He was a soldier.”
Eight men moved with mechanical precision as the flatbed truck pulled next to the industrial complex. They had worked together daily on building the perimeter fence and had reached an almost synergistic level of competence. They immediately had the ladders up and began working on the razor wire.
Brett pulled up behind them in a Dodge Ram 2500. As he exited the vehicle he saw movement inside the fence line. He thought he saw something large blur by.
He stopped and stared, scanning inside the complex. He saw nothing else. He watched the area for a full minute before relaxing.
"Keep an eye out in there," he shouted to the men, pointing at the facility. "I thought I just saw something."
All the workers turned to look inside. It was still and quiet. They returned to their tasks, but with a new sense of caution. Brett wasn't one to exaggerate, but they also knew that Travis' death had shaken him badly.
As Brett walked around the perimeter to search for supplies, one of the workers was busy grabbing the razor wire as it was being cut from the top of the fence. His thick gloves and heavy outerwear already had him sweating profusely. He stopped for a second to wipe the sweat off his brow when he noticed something standing directly on the other side of the fence staring at him. It wasn't more than a few inches away. It hadn't been there a second ago. It was huge.
He tensed up and then froze. Fear paralyzed him and he couldn't breathe.
The worker on top said, "Hey JT, quit sleeping on the job."
He didn't respond or move. JT felt something warm running down his leg and he realized he had just pissed himself. His knees went weak and almost buckled.
On the other side of the fence, inches away, a hideous monster stood completely still, focused on him. Its eyes were huge, misshapen, and bulging from their sockets. Its facial features were horribly distorted. The skin stretched tight across its face and the facial bones were exaggerated and practically protruding through the skin. Large purple patches covered its face and body where tattered strips of clothes weren’t covering it. It opened its mouth wide, its eyes bulging out further as it suddenly roared in outrage in JT’s face.
The worker above on the ladder yelled out in shock at the sound, falling backwards off the step, the ladder toppling with him. He hit the ground hard, smacking the back of his head on the concrete, splitting it open. Blood poured from the wound and his body twitched repeatedly before suddenly growing still.
At the sight of the blood the monster roared again, leaping onto the fence and scaling it swiftly. Its torso was muscular and it moved with cat-like precision, reaching the top in a split second and springing off, landing ten feet away. The fence vibrated from its weight. It now stood on the same side as the workers.
The workers were momentarily shocked by its appearance before scrambling to grab their weapons. The new infected jerked towards them, enraged and shaking with fury as it leapt again, colliding full force into the closest man, knocking him down and digging its enlarged jaws into his neck. The worker began convulsing and the monster infected ripped his throat open with its teeth before jumping towards the next nearest man.
It was instant pandemonium as the men brought their weapons up as the attack continued. The infected moved swiftly and dug its teeth into another workers face, ripping his entire nose clear off his face and immediately leaping towards another, knocking him down as the man fired a shot into its chest. It slashed at his torso, ripping his stomach wide open as it shrieked in madness.
From inside the perimeter five other infected appeared, sprinting towards them and roaring loudly. Brett turned the corner to the complex, alerted by the gunfire, and yelled out in shock at the spectacle before him.
His men were all down, bloody, and convulsing except for JT, who stood frozen as something stood inches away, staring down at him menacingly. Brett had never seen an infected so grotesque or large. All he knew is that it had to die: Immediately.
Brett ran to his truck and pulled out an M-16, barely taking his eyes off the creature. As his door shut and he lined up a shot, terrible shrieks filled the air as more of them leapt over the fence, careening through the air and landing a good ten feet past. They sped towards him, eyes bulging and wild, and he yelled as he swung the rifle in their direction, firing rapidly at their approach.
He hit one repeatedly in its enlarged forehead, knocking it back as its head splattered from the impact of the bullets. The one next to it crouched down and then jumped, soaring towards him like some predatory cat. He lifted the semi-automatic rifle towards it and fired as he backed up. They were coming too fast. He needed to retreat.
He hit the one in the air with several shots and it crashed to the ground a few feet in front of him struggling to right itself, and he fired three shots directly into its skull as he backpedaled swiftly. Pieces of bone and tissue sprayed outwards, and he lifted his head towards the other three who were now almost on him.
He turned and ran, knowing they'd have him any second. He cut back around the corner of the complex, following the fence line and running towards the gate that led inside. He yanked it open and slammed it behind him as he ran, and they leapt onto the fence directly behind him, scaling it and jumping over, landing right in back of him.
He felt a stabbing pain as one dug its jaws into the back of his neck. He yelled as he tried to yank it lose, swinging around to his left and bringing the M-16 up as he fell backwards. He fired repeatedly at it as he went down. He hit the ground hard and his head bounced off the concrete, momentarily dazing him. His instinct told him to keep firing, and he did so without ceasing as stars crossed his vision.
The one that had drawn blood landed on top of him, dead, knocking the gun and his breath away, and he struggled to push it off and regain his air and weapon.
He heaved it off with a loud grunt, feeling the first effects of the infection as he sucked for air. A searing pain shot up his neck and into his skull and he scrambled for the gun, laying his hands on it and fumbling to get a grip on the trigger. He winced from the pain as a second creature dove onto his back, digging its teeth into the muscles in his upper torso as he struggled to get away.
He slipped his finger into the trigger and fired non-stop as he swung around, knocking the creature off him. He made contact with the third one, blowing three holes into its midsection as it came on him.
The third one crushed the back of his head into the concrete and the butt of the rifle slipped down with Brett's finger still on the trigger, firing two rounds directly under the creature’s chin, and the back of its head exploded outwards. It tumbled over as another wave of searing pain shot into Brett's skull. The pain was so great he didn't feel the second one clamp its jaws around his midsection, ripping out a chunk of flesh and roaring with murderous desire.
Brett's whole body was racked by convulsions as he brought the weapon around and fired at the creature, his trigger finger continuously twitching as he moved the gun towards its head, firing round after round. A bullet smashed through the creature's skull and it flew backwards, the gun continuing to fire as the shaking continued.
Brett finally threw the gun to the side well after it had emptied and clutched himself, the pain so severe he gasped for breath. A wave of nausea overcame him and he threw up violently.
He pushed himself away from the monster infected, dragging himself towards the door of the complex. Another wave of nausea came and he vomited again. He reached the door and it was slightly ajar, and he pushed it open and dragged himself in by his elbows and knees. Once inside, he tried to push it shut with his feet, but the bullet holes Travis had put into it previously prevented it from closing properly.
Brett pushed his body up against a wall with his feet, clamping his teeth trying to deal with the pain. Sweat was pouring off him and he was burning up. He tried to look at his surroundings but his vision had grown dark and murky.
"Fuck," he cried out in resignation. He needed to eat a bullet. He had a spare gun tucked behind his back. With trembling hands he tried to reach for it. That's when the lone female infected shrieked next to him.
Outside, the creature hovered inches away from JT's face, its fury growing with each passing second. It suddenly grabbed his head with its hands and squeezed, lifting him off his feet as it roared. Its muscles pulsed as it compressed his face in its vice-like grip. The pressure was overwhelming and JT could feel his cheek bones cracking before they shattered and his eyes began pushing out of their sockets. He screamed as his head caved in and squished like a grape. The monster tossed him aside like a rag doll as the other workers rose, shrieking in defiance at their being.
The female infected suddenly burst through the door of the industrial complex, her face covered with Brett’s blood. He’d blown his brains out seconds before she’d attacked him. The frenzy of their madness seemed to escalate with her presence, and as she looked to the heavens and shrieked endlessly in rage, they left her and started running in unison, picking up speed to a sprinters pace as the desire to mutilate and destroy flooded their every pore.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Five days later, the small caravan was nearing Burlington, CO. They had passed a few towns where they could see signs of life, but after Wyoming they just wanted to keep moving and avoid getting caught up in anything.
“Check it out. It’s wide open. We’d be safe.” Mace rolled up to a little single story motel off of Hwy 70 and picked up the Walkie Talkie. “What do you say we shut down early? See the park across the street? Picnic benches and a barbeque pit. We could actually relax for a change. We’ll be there in a day or two anyway.”
“Roger that,” said Shawn, scanning the area. No one else responded. They were all just ready to stop. It was early November and the weather was getting colder. The day was mostly overcast but it didn't look like rain.
“Want to go on a provision hunt?” Mace asked Mike and Bill as everyone piled out of the vehicles.
“I’ll get the grill fired up,” said Shawn. “I’ve got crazy skills with Dinty Moore,” he laughed.
Paul shook his head in disgust. “What I need is a good steak,” he proclaimed. “I’m sick of this canned shit!”
“I could cook you up an infected,” Shawn smiled as he motioned towards the town in the distance. “Go find one and bring him back. I’ve got a couple bottles of A1 steak sauce. Put on enough and it might just cover up that nasty maggot-ass dead taste.”
“Whatever. You’re a fucking comedian,” Paul said dryly.
A half-hour later the men returned with a case of expensive red wine. “We hit the jackpot!” Mace exclaimed as they walked up to the benches. “Found it in the back of a Liquor Barn. This stuff is like $60 a bottle,” he said, pulling one out.
Sitting down to dinner on the benches with Shawn offering to keep guard, they opened several bottles of wine and offered a toast to their success at avoiding disaster. They were spread out over three tables, with Mace, Jade, Lisa and Chelsea at one; Bill, Mike, Jim and Yvette at another, and the Turchett’s off by themselves at the third. Hannah stood off by herself, looking solemnly at the landscape.
Chelsea looked at her mother’s glass and asked, “Can I get a sip mommy?”
“Are you old enough to drink already, honey?”
Chelsea put one hand in the air and wiggled her butt on the bench as she did her best imitation of a queen. “Please, darlinks, I would like to sip some wine.”
Mace, who had just taken a sip, tried quickly to swallow to keep from spitting it across the table. He ended up choking on it. Jade laughed while patting him on the back. Chelsea, looking around her mother to watch him, said, “Uh oh, Mason Macaraboni is choking on baloney."
Viewing her silly face, he started coughing harder, as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes as he tried to stop from laughing and choking at the same time.
At the Turchett’s table, Melissa asked for some wine as well. Paul shot her a dirty look. “You’re not twenty one. No way.”
Glaring at her father she said huffily, “There are no more laws. There’s nothing that says I can’t have a glass. I’m only asking for half-a-glass anyway.” Her attitude shifted and she resorted to pleading. "Please, daddy?"
Noreen shook her head. “Don’t argue with your father, Melissa. You’re too young to start drinking. End of discussion.”
Melissa pushed her plate away from her, got up from the table and said, “You both suck!” before storming off to her room.
Chelsea stared wide-eyed at the Turchett table before turning to Lisa and saying, “She said a bad thing. She said they suck!”
Lisa glanced at the Turchett table then back at her daughter. “It’s not polite to listen in on other people’s conversations, kiddo. And I don’t want to hear that come out of your mouth, okay?”
Chelsea nodded then scrunched her face up. “But what do they suck, anyway? Eggs?”
Mace turned his head and spit out the wine that he had just sipped to keep from choking again.
Cracking up, Lisa said, "She's available for parties and special occasions. Just make sure to have her back in time for bed."
Her expression changed as she realized what she’d said, and the table grew silent for a minute as they reflected on their whereabouts and uncertain future.
Jade broke the silence. “We’re almost there, you know. If we get an early start we should get there by tomorrow. I get more nervous everyday. I just hope it’s worth everything we've been through.”
Excited and anxious at the thought, Lisa said, “I’ve only been in the snow once my whole life. What are we going to do to keep from freezing?”
Mace had been putting a good deal of thought into that. “Kerosene heaters to start with. Once we get to Overland Park we can figure out what we’re up against."
No one wanted t
o mention the Thompson’s. They had all prepared themselves for the worst.
Chelsea piped in. “I want it to snow. I want to make a snowman.”
Lisa leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “You will honey. Now finish eating your dinner.”
Chelsea looked at the bowl of stew in front of her and made a face. When Lisa turned her head back towards Mace and Jade, she fished out a carrot and slipped it under the table, where Buster had been patiently waiting for the next morsel to come his way.
Hannah stood watching Chelsea, wondering if she would ever have children again. She’d been a single mother raising a son. He’d been fourteen when the attacks came. She’d never found out what had happened to him or heard from him again. The hardest decision she’d had to make was the one to join the caravan, but after she’d been injured she’d felt so strange she didn’t want to be left on her own. Jacqueline had become her caretaker and she was extremely thankful for that. Now that she was gone, she either wanted a place to start over or a place to lay her head down and die. Either one would suit her just as well.
Sitting at the next table, Bill refilled his glass of wine. They were telling stories of the wildest infected they had seen. “I saw this one guy running around in a bondage outfit,” Bill said, nodding his head as he told it. “He had on leather underwear and a ball stuck in his mouth.” He marked a cross across his chest. “I swear it. Hope to die."
The others around the table were cracking up. Chelsea turned to Lisa and started giggling. “He said he had leather underwear.” She slapped Lisa’s shoulder with her little hand and covered her mouth with the other. “That’s funny.”
Watching the reactions of the other table brought a smile to Lisa’s face. She hadn’t heard what the conversation was about but thought it was good to see them laughing. She looked back to Chelsea. “What did I tell you about listening to other people’s conversation? Now let’s go get changed for bed. It’s going to be dark soon.”
Value of Jade (Mace of the Apocalypse #2) Page 11