"Son of a motherless goat!" Tyler exclaimed. "Now what are we going to do?"
They stared at the river, rain dripping off their noses and soaking every inch of their clothes. As they stared, they suddenly saw rotters floating downstream.
"Look at that!" Jesse laughed. "Even the rotters got swept away like our truck!"
Franklin and Tyler both smiled and shook their heads at the large number of rotters that were floating past, snarling at them, but unable to assert their will against the powerful stream.
Jesse lifted his rifle to his shoulder and fired a shot at a rotter about fifty yards away. "Wowee, look at that! Right in the head!" he shouted, pleased with himself. Suddenly, he saw a flash of white before his eyes as Franklin's right hand clubbed him in the back of the head.
"What are you doing?!" Franklin hissed, grabbing Jesse by his wet shirt and pulling him close to his face. "If those things are in the river right now, it means a whole bunch are close! Don't make noise and attract them!"
Jesse glanced at Tyler for support, but Tyler merely shrugged his shoulders and mouthed, "He's right."
Just then, a few rotters stepped around the bend in the road, their teeth chopping in anticipation.
Franklin uttered a groan from deep within, not believing their luck. Tyler raised his rifle, preparing to snap off a round into the nearest rotter, but Jesse stopped him. "Don't fire!" he said quickly. "Up in the trees!"
Tyler and Jesse ran to a big oak with some low lying branches and climbed up about ten feet. Franklin, still groaning, hesitated a second and chose a sycamore about fifteen feet from the oak and managed to climb into that. The rotters soon surrounded the base of the trees, clawing and snarling.
"There's gotta be about fifty or sixty!" Tyler shouted over to Franklin. "Do you want us to shoot them?"
"Wait out the storm!" Franklin shouted back. "We don't want to attract a hundred more!"
Miserably, they clung to the trees for hours, but as they clung, the water continued to rise. Slowly, the snarling of the rotters turned into gurgles. Hands raised above the water level continued to claw at the trunks of the trees but they soon disappeared one by one. The three said nothing, concentrating on hanging on.
* * *
Steven gingerly closed the door behind him as his flashlight beam danced about the darkened interior. The occasional flash of lightening would briefly illuminate the black corners as he surveyed the abandoned home to ensure its safety.
When he was satisfied the coast was clear, he guided the two women into the kitchen and tied their arms to the legs of a heavy oak dining table.
“I’ll try to find you gals some dry clothes,” Steven muttered. He spun around, feeling their piercing glares burn holes through his backside.
He silently padded down the hallway and pushed open the first bedroom door he came to. A vibrant pink color greeted him as he stepped into what he quickly assumed was the former bedroom of a small girl. Neatly arranged ponies adorned the tops of bookcases, shimmering sparkles adorned the feminine paint scheme on the walls, and a neatly pressed princess outfit hung off the bedpost.
Steven’s lip quivered as his thoughts drifted back to his daughter Emily, and a tear ran down his cheek.
The metal buckle slashed across Steven’s face for the third time in less than a minute. Fresh blood seeped from the newest gash slicing across his forehead. He cried out in pain as his assailant lifted the punishment to catch his breath.
“We aren’t asking much! Just get out there and bring us people!”
“I can’t!” Steven sobbed. “I can’t kidnap people who are just struggling to survive! And I can’t go back out there!”
“Don’t tell me what you can’t do! And don’t forget that you agreed when we took you in you would do as we asked.” The man spat in Steven’s face. “I’ll give you one more chance.”
Steven simply shook his head and tried to wipe blood from his eyes.
“Very well,” the man said, motioning to his partner. “Go get her.”
“Get who?” Steven asked, puzzled.
A moment later Steven’s wife was thrust into the room. “Steven,” she cried, “what’s going on?”
Before Steven could utter a response the cold metallic barrel of a Colt .45 was pressed against her temple. Without the slightest hint of remorse his finger brushed the trigger, propelling the bullet through her skull and into the wall.
As her body slumped over Steven struggled to launch himself at the men. “You son of a bitch! That’s my wife!”
Steven was no match for the stronger men and they easily beat him to the ground. “Bring us what we ask or your daughter is next!”
“Please don’t harm Emily!” Steven pleaded. “Please don’t touch her! I’ll get you what you want! Just leave her out of this!”
“Good, I’m glad we have come to an understanding.” One of the men hoisted Steven to his feet and pushed him to the door. “Now get out! You will head out first thing in the morning.”
Steven entered the second bedroom and scoured the area for any clothes. Spying an antique dresser in the corner he rummaged around and finally withdrew some faded jeans and t-shirts. He briskly walked back to the kitchen and untied Jackie and Katelyn from the table.
“Make it quick,” he muttered, allowing the girls a brief minute to hastily clothe themselves. As he retied the women a moment later he ordered, “Get some rest. Soon as morning comes, assuming the weather is better, we’ll be leaving.”
Both women glared without mercy.
Steven surveyed the house again, checked to make sure the doors were secured, and then lowered his tired body onto a couch.
* * *
As the sun broke over the edge of the hill, Franklin could finally see the aftermath of the previous day and night. A slick layer of muddy sediment covered the ground beneath them, but the rotters were nowhere to be seen. He pried his fingers off the branch that he had gripped all night, and grimaced at the sharp pain in his joints. He carefully climbed down with all his gear. "Hey, you two, get down!"
"Uh, Franklin..." remarked Jesse, climbing down. "Tyler's not here."
"What happened? Couldn't he hang on?"
"I dozed off; he must have slipped off. I don't know what happened."
Franklin saw red and shoved Jesse back with two hands. "What do you mean you don't know what happened!? Someone who was with you disappeared...AGAIN!?!?!"
Franklin hauled back and connected with Jesse's chin in a powerful haymaker, frustration and helplessness fueling his right arm. Jesse staggered back as stars sprinkled across his vision. He shook the stars loose and regained his balance. His blood boiled. "Wasn't my fault!" he shouted, stepping up to Franklin, striking Franklin in the chest with his left fist and following up with a right to his left eye.
The fight was on--punches flew and kicks were laid until it devolved into a wrestling match in the mud. Finally, Franklin pushed Jesse away and said, "Hold it! Truce!"
Jesse got to his feet, his knees slightly bent, prepared in case Franklin was trying to trick him. Franklin wiped mud off his shirt and walked slowly in the opposite direction, picking up gear where it had fallen. "This isn't helping get our ladies back..." he spoke quietly. "Let's forget it and move on."
Jesse grunted in affirmation, although still a little hot under the collar, and followed Franklin's example in picking up his gear. Thankfully, their weapons didn't get too much mud in them and were quickly cleaned. Looking around one last time for any sign of Tyler but finding none, they headed over the bridge up Highway 27 towards Falmouth, their feet leaving tracks in the mud behind them.
XII
Falmouth
Steven’s eyelids fluttered open and he silently cursed as a piercing shaft of sunlight streamed through the window, landing directly on his pupils. He shook the cobwebs from his head and hastily sat up.
“Dang it,” he cursed. “Should have been heading north several hours ago.” Steven approached Jackie and Katelyn, and hast
ily untied them from the table. “Go use the ladies’ room really quick. I think I saw a car out back; I’m hoping the battery is still good.”
As Steven followed them to the disheveled bathroom, Jackie managed to aim a well-placed stream of saliva at Steven’s face that would have rivaled that of a llama.
“Miss,” Steven said, calmly wiping his face, “I ain’t the bad guy here. You got no idea what’s going on.”
“I’ll be the judge of that!” she said defiantly.
When the girls were done he led them at gunpoint out the back door and pushed them into the back of the small four-door sedan. Then he crept along and unlatched a small gate that separated the secluded driveway from the street. The piercing cry of rusty metal startled him, and swept through the air.
Steven jumped backwards as a feeder, alerted by the shrill noise, suddenly rushed behind him, forcing him to retreat near the street. Realizing he’d set his 9mm on the car seat, Steven looked frantically for a weapon.
In an instant the feeder was upon him, knocking him to the ground. Gnashing teeth, repulsive oral juices, and rotting flesh rained down upon him. Steven struggled to keep his attacker at bay with one hand, while using the other to blindly grope through the driveway overgrown with weeds to find anything suitable as a weapon.
“Get off of me you filthy piece of…” the loud crack of gunfire thundered through the morning air. The right side of the feeder’s head exploded as a .45 caliber hollow point bullet exited the skull, spraying Steven in a fine red mist.
He pushed the still body off his chest and quickly looked behind him to see the mystery shooter. It only took him a second to recognize the man standing in the street. “Franklin?” he stammered. “Is that you?”
“Steven? Steven! You filthy son of a bitch, what did you do with my wife?” Franklin, filled with rage, recognized the man whose life he had just saved. “I should have left you to die!”
Steven, on the other hand, didn’t waste a second. Sprinting back to the car he slid into the driver’s seat and frantically cranked the ignition.
“Come on baby. Come on!”
After a third failed start he sighed, closed his eyes, and placed his bloody face on the steering wheel. Images of his daughter, Emily, came to the forefront of his thoughts. In the distance he heard Franklin bellowing.
With one final effort Steven turned the key. As the familiar sound of a starter draining the last bit of battery reserves filled his ears, he pumped the gas pedal, desperate to escape Franklin’s wrath.
“I’m going to rip you to pieces!” Franklin rounded the corner of the house and saw Steven, desperation in his eyes.
Suddenly the 4 cylinder engine coughed to life and Steven screamed with joy. He revved the engine and then put the vehicle in gear. He gripped the steering wheel as he accelerated through the gravel and weeds.
Franklin aimed his .45 at the vehicle but resisted the urge to shoot when he glimpsed Jackie, tied up, in the back seat. Her eyes were glazed over with a look of terror as she screamed, although Franklin couldn’t understand a single word. He returned a shout to his wife but was soon cut off as gravel peppered his face as Steven rocketed out the driveway.
Knowing it was a lost cause, Franklin chased the fleeing vehicle anyway. As he ran onto the street Jesse approached. “Don’t shoot,” he commanded. “Jackie and Katelyn are in there.” He let out a wail and sank to the ground. “We were so close! So close!”
As the sedan sped away, leaving Falmouth, Franklin could only imagine his helpless wife tied up at the mercy of a maniac.
* * *
Wet boots and shoes made for slow hiking conditions. "My prune-y feet can't handle this!" Jesse complained.
Franklin didn't reply, but sat down and peeled off his damp boots. "My danged feet are bleeding," he grumbled.
They rested their feet and shared a piece of beef jerky from a bag they brought from the fort. In the distance, they saw a lone figure moving up the road. "Too quick to be a rotter," Jesse remarked.
Franklin tried to take a look through the scope of the rifle, but it had been cracked during last night's ordeal. "Can't see a thing," he said.
They sat, patiently awaiting the arrival. As he neared, Franklin and Jesse could see that he was muddy and running at a constant pace.
"Tyler, is that you?" Jesse exclaimed. "I thought you were a goner!"
Jesse wrapped Tyler up in a big hug, making Tyler feel awkward. "Good to see you too, buddy ol' pal."
"Good to see you back, man!" Franklin said with a smile. "What happened?"
"Well, I tried to adjust my pack during the night, and I got too careless and slipped off the branch. I fell in and it felt like forever that I was being swept downstream. I got caught on a snag in the water and was just stuck there, so I fell asleep. When I woke up, I saw the bridge in the distance, but I was still stuck, even though the water had gone down. I had to cut one of the straps to my pack, which is why I don't have it with me. I stored everything but some water and my pistol, so I could catch up with you guys. I'm used to running a lot...it wasn't hard," Tyler narrated.
"We really thought you were gone," Franklin said sadly, patting Tyler on the shoulder. "Really happy you aren't."
Tyler grinned and pointed his finger at Jesse and Franklin. "You two are going to have to try a lot harder to get rid of me," he chuckled.
Franklin grunted and gingerly tugged his still-damp boots back on. "No time to lolly-gag. Let's get moving..." he said.
They continued heading north, wearily trudging along. Sporadically, rotters stumbled down the roads towards them or out of the woods, light snarls breaking the silence of the fall day. They walked miles without saying a word, silently dispatching any rotters that posed a threat, and continuing with a nod. It seemed that nothing would break the monotony, but as they passed a small farm, they heard a commotion.
"What's going on?" whispered Tyler. "Sounds like a bunch of rotters on the other side of that hill." He gestured over to a small rise on the other side of the farm house from them.
"Go check it out," Franklin said quietly, "But don't draw attention to yourself and be quick."
Tyler nodded and jogged past the farmhouse. Slowing down, he climbed up the hill and peered over. Suddenly, he beckoned for Franklin and Jesse to come forward.
Franklin and Jesse took off towards Tyler, instantly forgetting about their sore feet and mentally preparing to do battle with whatever threat Tyler had seen. Guns at the ready, they reached Tyler and peeked over the hill as well.
"What??" Franklin hissed. "Those rotters aren't going to bother us!"
"I know!" Tyler replied. "But we just can't leave him there!"
Tyler pointed wildly down to a baby black bear in a fenced in pasture at the base of the rise. Franklin counted nearly fifty rotters chasing the poor creature as he tried to run to safety. Exhaustion was taking its toll on the bear--his tongue lolled out of his mouth and he was panting heavily. Giving up, he sat back on his haunches and uttered a long, plaintive cry. Rotters snarled as they neared him, chopping their teeth and reaching out with their arms.
Tyler whirled around and grabbed Franklin's sleeve. "We have to do something!" he said, almost in tears. "He's just a baby...!" Jesse knelt and leveled his rifle, taking aim into the pasture, waiting for the go ahead to fire.
Franklin shook his head and opened his mouth to reply when they heard something right behind them. Jesse rose and turned to see what was coming just as a large black bear slammed into his shoulder knocking him flat on his back and bouncing his head off the grassy knoll. Bewildered, Jesse shook the cobwebs out of his head and then rolled to his stomach to view what was unfolding below him.
The large bear leaped over the fence and lumbered straight for her little baby. A roar filled the late afternoon air as she neared her offspring, bowling over a rotter that had grabbed hold of the little guy's fur and stomping on its head with a heavy paw. The mama bear spun around and faced the oncoming horde, her baby now safe behi
nd her. Another warning roar bellowed from deep within her as the rotters advanced within her reach. Their dried out hands reached out as she stood on her hind legs and met the onslaught. Mama swung her paws like twin sledgehammers, crushing the skulls of the two rotters nearest her. She dropped to all fours and turned to her right flank as two more stumbled near. They dropped where they stood as her right paw shot out, her claws disemboweling them and detaching their spine from their lower half.
She snorted her derision as more drew near, her anger evident in the blast from her nostrils, daring them to try her. The rest of the horde swarmed upon her. Putrid bits of flesh, shards of bone, and sprays of blood were all tossed into the air as she fought for the life of her offspring. The fight continued for several minutes until the ground around them was slick with the decaying remnants of the rotters. Mama bear stumbled as she destroyed another one, bits of her hide hanging off her, bleeding profusely from the many bites and claw marks she sustained. Her once defiant and erect posture now became wilted. She trembled as she stood, still fighting, barely hanging on, still defending her baby, but reaching her end. Four rotters remained, but she had nothing left in the tank. She swiped at one and collapsed, and they tore into her.
Tyler couldn't take it any longer. He jerked his pistol out of his holster and ran towards the bear. Franklin tried to grab him, but he was too quick as he ran. Four quick shots ended the rotters' bear buffet, and he knelt a couple feet from the bear's head.
"Be careful, Tyler..." Franklin warned, as the bear moaned.
Tears coursed down Tyler's cheeks as he watched the mama struggle to stay alive. Her cub ran up and nuzzled her face, licking at some of her wounds. Mama bear lifted her head weakly and licked her cub's face. She laid her head back down softly, but that was her last act as her eyes glazed over.
Tyler bawled unashamedly. Franklin and Jesse turned their heads away from each other to hide the tears escaping their eyes.
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