The Agora Virus (Book 2): Anxiety

by Jack Hunt

  They moved quickly down the corridor and up the stairs.

  “Stay behind me,” Frank said placing his hand back and hugging the wall as he ascended the steps. He slid the knife back into its sheath and pulled the handgun. At the top, he eased the door open and took a quick peek. There was no one there yet he could still hear the music blaring outside.

  “Okay, let’s move.”

  They navigated their way out and towards the back. As he retraced his steps he kept repeating the words to himself: Stay calm.

  Closing in on the back door, they were seconds away from getting out when a guy with a goatee came into view. He was wearing a thin white shirt, and boxers, and carrying beer. He turned his head and locked onto Frank. Frank went to raise his finger to tell him to stay quiet, when he dropped the beer and turned to flee. Before Frank could react, he had disappeared into the house and out of sight.

  “Move it.”

  They burst forward entering the room the guy had been in, only to dart back out as he returned with a rifle in his hand. No, no, no, this is not happening, Frank told himself as he raised his own gun in defense and pushed Karla to the floor behind a chair. A sudden burst of bullets and the wall was peppered with holes. The guy pulled back behind a wall. Frank shuffled along trying to get closer. As the front of the barrel came into view around the corner of the wall, Frank grabbed it, shoved it up and it went off firing a hole in the ceiling. He lunged forward with his knee and pummeled the guy’s stomach three times before headbutting his nose and sending him reeling back with his face covered in blood.

  On the floor the guy started scrambling back trying to get away but Frank was on him faster than a fox on a rabbit. The guy let out a shout and Frank covered his mouth and forced his entire weight down on his thin frame. He was still jamming his gun into his gut and telling him to shut up when the man started wrestling with him. They twisted and turned, all the while he had the gun in one hand and the other hand was trying to keep the man from making any further noise.

  He wasn’t exactly sure how it happened but when the gun went off, his stomach sank. The look in the man’s eyes went from fury to surprise, and then slowly his resistance weakened and the light in his eyes dimmed. There was no time to think, or have regrets, as he could already see two women further down the hall covering their mouths with their hands. It was like watching a train wreck occur in slow motion. As they removed their hands, their screams filled their air. Between the two of them, it was like hearing an air-raid siren.

  Hauling himself up, now covered in the man’s blood, he grabbed Karla’s hand and they rushed the other way, ducked into a back room, and raced towards the rear sliding doors. Frank yanked on the door but it was locked. He flicked the locking mechanism up thinking it would unlock but it still didn’t

  “Stand back.”

  Frank took a few steps back and fired two rounds into the pane of glass. It shattered into thousands of pieces and they stepped through.

  “Let’s go!”

  Karla clung to his hand as he led her out and they sprinted towards a thicket of trees. By this point he could hear people yelling and screaming “Intruder!” but they didn’t slow down or stop to look back. They just kept running until they were hidden by the darkness of night and the trees that surrounded the property.

  His mind was a whirlwind as they rushed through the thick underbrush and tried to put as much distance as possible between the house and themselves.

  Butch heard the gunfire as he got closer to the house. He sped up and came soaring over a rise and headed straight for the house. Something wasn’t right. His first thought as he saw the faces of those who had stayed back to keep watch over the women was that there had been an altercation or his dumbass cousins had been playing that game where they tossed a gun around with a live round inside.

  He had visions of one of them writhing around on the floor with a bullet in his leg. He killed the engine on the ATV and hopped off without even letting the thing slow down. He rushed up to Tracey, one of his sisters, and grabbed her.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Jimmy’s dead.”

  “What?”

  She pointed and was trying to get more words out but was in shock. Butch rushed into the house and was greeted by the sight of Jimmy’s wife, Marilyn, hunched over him, screaming at the top of her voice.

  “My baby, my baby. No!”

  “Who did this?” Butch said. Her grief was so strong she couldn’t answer. “I said, who did this?”

  “It was him, Butch,” Joey said stumbling into view barely able to keep himself upright. He was massaging his neck which was red raw.

  “What the fuck happened to you?”

  “He jumped me.”

  “Who?” he yelled, getting annoyed at all the vague answers.

  “Frank Talbot.”

  Butch backed up a little as though a heavy wave had just washed him out to sea.

  “Talbot did this?” he muttered. Joey gripped the side of the doorframe to support himself and nodded affirmatively. His two sisters confirmed it. He gritted his teeth and squeezed his fists hard. Turning fast and heading back out the door, he rushed towards Gabriel and Tyrell and slammed his fist into Gabriel’s jaw, knocking him to the ground. Next he pulled out his Sig Sauer and thrust it in the face of Tyrell.

  “Where is he?” he yelled.

  Tyrell tried to back up. “What the hell are you on about?”

  Butch took a firm grip on the back of Tyrell’s collar and began dragging him towards the house.

  “Hey man, let go.”

  He stumbled a little and Butch told him to get up. He scrambled to his feet and they continued on until Butch threw him inside the house. Tyrell slid across the tiled floor like a rag doll. He was panting hard and looked scared.

  Butch pointed a finger to Jimmy’s body. “You see that!”

  Tyrell just stared as Butch went over and scooped up some of the blood that had pooled around Jimmy’s body and then he returned and wiped it across Tyrell’s face and lips.

  “Man, what the hell is going on?”

  “I’ll tell you what is going on.” Butch brought up his gun and placed it against Tyrell’s temple. “Now you have exactly one minute to tell me where Frank Talbot is or I will paint the wall behind you with your insides.”

  “I don’t know a Frank Talbot.”

  “Fifty-two seconds.”

  Tyrell cowered back. “Look, man, I don’t know what is going on here but I swear.”

  “Forty-seven seconds.”

  He could see Tyrell becoming more scared by the second but he was waiting to see it. The break. The look in their eye that all liars got when they had been found out.

  “Thirty-four seconds.”

  Gabriel came into view a few feet away and he gazed at the body. “Listen, Butch, we have no idea who the hell you are on about.”

  “Twenty-one seconds.”

  Gabriel tried to intervene but he was pulled back by Bret. Butch observed them, looking for any indication that they might have known Frank. He figured they were being used as a distraction. It’s what he would have done. It was smart but not smart enough. Or, perhaps he had got it wrong and he was about to end some random guy’s life who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Either way he didn’t care. All that mattered now was finding out how this had happened.

  “Fourteen seconds.”

  Tyrell tossed his hands up. He was shaking uncontrollably. “Okay, man. We know Frank.”

  “Tyrell!” Gabriel shouted.

  “No, fuck this. I’m not losing my life over some guy I barely know.”

  Butch pressed the barrel against his head even harder. “So talk.”

  “He told us to come over and check out what you had in place, you know, number of people, weapons, supplies because you didn’t know us. But this…” Tyrell gazed at the lifeless body. “This was not what he said would happen. I would have never agreed to this if I knew he was going to kill som
eone.”

  Butch studied his face then lowered the weapon.

  “And? Are there any others that came with you?”

  “No, just us.”

  He narrowed his gaze.

  “I swear,” Tyrell replied.

  “What about on Frank’s island?”

  “Um…”

  “How many?” he bellowed.

  Tyrell began counting with his fingers. “Five, eight if you include the kids.”

  Butch smiled then started laughing and walking ever so slowly back and forth looking out into the darkness of the night. “Eight if you include the kids. Oh, that is priceless.” He then walked over to Joey and grabbed him by the head. “What happened to the twenty?” His eyes darted over to Dusty who was looking sheepish. “You fucking idiots. It was just Frank Talbot and there weren’t twenty, were there?”

  “There were two actually,” Dusty said.

  Keeping a hand on the side of Joey’s neck, he turned to Dusty. “Shut up, you moron.” He glared at both of them. “If you weren’t my own blood I would put a bullet in both of you.”

  He slapped the side of Joey’s neck a few times and then walked outside leaving them all wondering what he was about to do. Butch gazed around at the surrounding trees. He rested his weight back on one foot and nodded slowly.

  “So you want to play games, Frank?” he shouted at the top of his voice.

  There was no answer, just a chorus of crickets and tree frogs.

  “Cause I can play games. I’m real good at games.” He turned to Dusty and Joey and motioned for them to bring over the two guys.

  “Listen up, take some of the cousins over to the island.”

  “Which one?”

  He rolled his eye and slapped Joey across the face. “Which one do you think I’m talking about?”

  “Right, Frank’s, sorry, Butch.”

  “Exactly. Go over there, take Jackson, Palmer, Dusty, and Bret and kill every last one of them.”

  “What?” Bret asked, shaking his head.

  “You heard me.”

  He stepped back. “I’m not doing that.”

  Butch opened his eyes wide, unable to believe that his brother was speaking back to him. He walked over to him and grabbed him by the ear and twisted it hard. “If you live on this island you will do what you are fucking told, do I make myself clear?”

  “It’s murder, Butch, I’m not murdering anyone.”

  “Oh… You’re not murdering anyone? Go take a fucking hard look at your cousin. And then tell me you aren’t going to do anything!”

  “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to do anything.”

  “No? Then why are you giving me grief? Huh? Do you expect me to negotiate? You want me to negotiate with someone that just killed one of our family?”

  He shrugged. “No. I’m… I’m saying that this isn’t right. There are other ways to handle this.”

  Butch rolled his lips between his teeth and stared deep into his brother’s eyes. He released him and walked over to Tyrell and placed the gun against his head.

  “Frank! Listen up. I know you are out there.”

  He turned and told Jackson and Palmer to take Gabriel and go and put a hole in that boat. “If he thinks he’s getting off this island he is mistaken.”

  Palmer shoved Gabriel forward. “Come on, dickhead, time to show us where this boat is.”

  Gabriel stumbled forward and landed on his knees. They grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him up. Butch then turned to Dusty and told him to take Ricky, Tyler, Ellis, Hudson, and Brooklyn over to the island. He turned towards his brother Bret, smirked, and then right in front of him told them exactly what he had said before. “Kill them all.”

  “And the kids?” Dusty asked.

  “Ah… I was never fond of children.”

  Dusty nodded and took off to get the others.

  Bret rushed forward towards Butch and grabbed a hold of him. “This is not right. You don’t have to do this.”

  “It’s already done, brother.”

  With that said he turned back towards the forest and continued to yell.

  “I’m going to make this real easy for you, Frank. You have thirty minutes to come out unarmed and turn yourself over, otherwise I’m going to kill good ole Tyrell and then I’m going to kill Gabriel. You decide, Frank. Their lives or yours. It’s up to you.”

  NINETEEN

  Jackson and Palmer took turns pushing Gabriel through the heavy woodland. They seemed to be finding enjoyment in seeing which one could make him stumble. Jackson looked to be close to two hundred and fifty pounds. He’d obviously eaten one too many chicken wings. His breathing was heavy and he kept stopping and leaning against a tree just to catch his breath. Palmer on the other hand looked as if he could have taken a page out of Jackson’s diet book and gained a few pounds. His bony features protruded making him look like he’d been on a three-day drug bender. He kept clearing his throat like he had something stuck in the back of it. Both wore camouflage hunter’s jackets, and work boots that looked like they had seen better days.

  “How much farther is this boat?”

  “Just beyond those trees,” Gabriel said.

  “You said that ten minutes ago.”

  “Well they all look the same.”

  Palmer gabbed a hold of him and pulled him in real close. “You better not be screwing us around.”

  “Why would I do that? You’re the ones with the guns.”

  “That’s right and don’t forget it,” Palmer said before shoving him forward with the butt of his gun. The truth was he was a little lost. When they had arrived, it had been close to the hall. With darkness shrouding everything and the leaves of the trees blocking out the moon’s light, it was virtually impossible to determine where they were.

  They continued on for another five minutes before Jackson’s huffing and puffing got the better of him. He pulled out an asthma inhaler and took several puffs.

  “I can’t go any further. If I knew it was going to be this far I would have brought the ATV.”

  “Ah stop griping.”

  “Leave me here. You go with him and I’ll wait here.”

  “No, he said we both had to go. I don’t trust this asshole,” Palmer said before glaring at Gabriel.

  “Well then I need to rest a moment.”

  “You need to lose weight is what you need to do.” Palmer tossed a broken stick into the forest and the sound of night critters scurrying could be heard along with the lapping of waves.

  “Don’t you guys get pissed off at him bossing you around?”

  “Shut the hell up,” Palmer replied.

  Jackson had one hand resting against a thick tree trunk and the other on his knee.

  “I’m just saying…”

  “Well don’t.”

  “Okay, you good to go?” Palmer said to Jackson, all the while keeping his gun trained on Gabriel. He had contemplated making a run for it. He had a fifty-fifty chance they were going to kill him anyway but with Palmer’s finger on the trigger he didn’t think he would make it far.

  Jackson reluctantly nodded.

  They continued on, and after numerous questions and a hard jab from the gun to his gut, he told them that they had anchored not far from the hall. If he had to guess it was south. After another ten minutes of trudging through heavy foliage, they came out near the shoreline. It stretched before them, and water frothed against large boulders. A northeasterly wind blew against their faces as they made their way towards the boat that was moored to one of the many docks around the island.

  “So tell me. Has Butch confiscated everyone’s boats?”

  It made sense that he would have claimed the one thing that others had stolen from the mainland. And of course, keeping all the boats together meant he could control the inhabitants of the island. The same people that looked so despondent at the meeting. Why were they not fighting back? Surely there was at least one family among the small amount that wasn’t ready to put up with that je
rk.

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Seems a little odd that he would want to destroy a good boat, don’t you think? Why not just bring it around to wherever he keeps his?”

  Palmer jabbed Gabriel in the center of his back with his rifle. “If I have to tell you one more time to shut up, you are going to be spitting blood next.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  “What did you call me?”

  “Boss.”

  He smirked. “That’s right, bitch.”

  As they got closer to the boat that was bobbing around in the gentle waters, Gabriel remembered where Frank had stashed the rifles. He had covered them up with pine branches and a whole bunch of sticks about fifteen feet away from the dock.

  When they reached the dock, Jackson was the first to head down to the boat.

  “I really don’t think you should destroy it,” Gabriel said. “It’s a waste.”

  Palmer smirked and pushed him up the dock behind Jackson. He had hoped he’d leave him at the edge of the island but this guy wasn’t taking any chances.

  “Now watch this,” Palmer said as he raised his rifle and fired a round into the stern of the boat. Jackson did the same and as they were unleashing hell on the boat Gabriel knew that it was now or never. If he didn’t take action, chances were he would be sinking to the bottom of the river along with that beautiful boat.

  Palmer kept glancing at Gabriel while Jackson was hooting and hollering. Taking advantage of their momentary distraction, Gabriel charged at Palmer, knocking him off the dock into the water. He barely got a word out before he was coughing up water. Jackson was next; he knew that fat asshole wasn’t going to be able to muster up enough energy to react in time. A sharp front kick to the stomach and he lost his balance and went in.

  Moving at lightning speed, Gabriel sprinted up the dock, scrambled up the shore’s incline, and made a beeline for the stash of rifles. All the while he could hear both of them cursing and water splashing around as they tried to get back on the dock. He knew he had only a matter of minutes before they would come after him.