by R. J. Spears
He knew he had to move in spite of the pain.
He dragged himself into the center aisle; the pain in his foot mind was numbing. Fire ran along the roof of the bus like an angry river, rippling and boiling. He pulled himself down the aisle, hand-over-hand, towards the back of the bus. It was painstaking work. Smoke and fumes whirled around his face, and he felt himself swimming in a wave of darkness, but he kept moving, instinct telling to get out of the bus.
He didn’t remember how he did it or how long it took, but he found himself at the back door of the bus. He pushed on it, but it didn’t open. His consciousness narrowed down to a tight tunnel only giving him the tiniest of views out the window as he choked on the smoke billowing around him.
Why isn’t this damn door opening? His mind screamed.
Oxygen deprivation was shutting down his thought processes. He couldn’t grasp the idea that he had to pull the safety handle.
There were no words, just a primal instinct to survive. He rose to his knees despite the shooting pain in his foot, and his hands searched the door, pawing at it mindlessly. After a few more seconds of searching, he felt the strength leaving his body. His hands fell from the window as his systems started shutting down. Fortunately, his hand fell onto handle that opened the door.
His mind fired up in desperation, some small portion of it recognized what the handle was, and he pushed it down. The door cracked open, and he fell against it, hoping just to fall out of the bus to safety, but another explosion went off behind him. In his near unconscious state, his body went limp. The force of the explosion hit him in the back like a tidal wave, lifting him off of his feet and propelling him out the door.
He swam in and out of consciousness for several hours, unable to move. He opened his eyes and saw that he was just under the back end of the blackened bus. Smoke seeped off it into the air in wispy tendrils. His thoughts were a jumble, bouncing around. He wondered how badly he was burned and why the zombies hadn’t taken him during the night. He could only guess that they had stayed away from the fire and had not noticed him lying there. But he knew they would, once the fire died down.
Against all the pain, he willed himself to sit up. He gave every ounce of his remaining strength to make it fully into a sitting position. A wave of blackness swamped his vision, but he remained upright.
He was afraid to look down at his foot, but there was no avoiding looking any longer. Where is the end of my shoe, he thought? His mind couldn’t accept that a part of his foot was missing. Maybe it was better that way? At least for now.
Something moved just out of the corner of his vision. Fear and adrenaline kicked his mind into full gear.
He patted his side and found his pistol and then his knife. He pulled out his knife, fearing if he fired his pistol any zombies in the area would be drawn to the sound.
He heard the footfalls coming up from behind him and turned to see a female zombie dressed in a hospital gown stumbling in his direction. The pain of moving nearly took him down again, but he fought it.
She closed the gap quickly, snarling, ready to eat. He waited, steeling himself.
He watched and waited. Step-by-step, she moved in for the kill; her hands clutched the air as she reached for him. He knew he only had enough in reserve for a single thrust.
Her shadow passed over his face and started the descent down towards him. He timed his attack, bringing up the knife as she came down. His blade bit just under her chin, thrusting up into the soft flesh and into her brain. He twisted it with his last remaining bit of strength.
She collapsed on him, knocking him to the ground, and he blacked out.
He came back to consciousness, not knowing how long he was out. The zombie still lay across his body. He wriggled out from under her as the stench of her nearly overpowered the smell of his burnt flesh.
Despite the pain, he was more aware and awake than he had been. His hands ached from the burns as he reached down to his side and felt for his walkie-talkie. He grabbed it and brought it up to his mouth. He depressed the talk button and said, “Rex, come in.” His throat felt parched and scratchy. He waited for several seconds and then tried again. “Rex, this is Anthony. I need you.”
The seconds seemed like hours as he waited for a response. He drifted on the edge of consciousness and wondered if he should just let go. This world was a shithole, and there had to be something better, but one thing kept him from letting go. One crystalline ball burning deep within his being. Revenge. Revenge for their taking Layla. Revenge for what they had done to him.
Now, if he could only get that chance. He blacked out again, and everything stopped.
Chapter 49
Requiem
I was beyond exhausted. I was spent fifty times over. Fifty times fifty. My body ached. My soul ached even more.
The leadership team called for a town hall meeting first thing in the morning. I was more than clueless as to what had to be said. All that went through my mind was what would Greg do?
The news of Greg’s death filtered through the complex. Most people shuffled into the dining hall with blank faces, lost in shock and grief. Others came in with looks of fear. Some were angry.
I waited until they had taken their seats and all talking stopped.
What I was going to say was a mystery to me. I could tell them how I really felt: that I was hopeless and lost. That I was having trouble finding meaning in this brutal and callous world. That I was pissed off beyond words. That I either wanted to sleep for the next century or go on a zombie killing rampage until I couldn’t find any more to kill.
Crying was not an option. If I started with that, I might not stop.
I looked out at the crowd, and all eyes were on me.
I cleared my throat and said, “As you know, we lost Greg last night. We’ll hold a service later today for him. I’m not great at eulogies or anything like that. All I can say is that Greg was a good man. I’d like to take a moment and pray or meditate or whatever you want to do because I’m sure that’s what he’d want us to do.”
Most people bowed their heads, while some looked skyward.
I bowed my head, but my thoughts were a muddled mass of confused emotions, each one tearing at the other. I couldn’t break through them to anything coherent.
A voice sounded next to me, “Our Father who art in Heaven. Hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come.” It was Kara’s voice.
Others joined in with the next line, and the hall was filled with our voices by the fifth line. I felt Kara’s hand take mine, and my mind cleared, and I began reciting along with the others. When we finished, I asked for a little extra from the Man Upstairs and then looked up to the faces in the crowd.
Tears streamed down many faces, but no one was outright bawling.
“He gave it his all every day and did everything to protect us,” I said, my voice shaky. “And now, most of all, he wants us to go on. Greg asked me to take on the role as leader, but that is only temporary. We’ll have to hold an open election to fill Greg’s seat on the leadership team. That will happen tomorrow. Today, we celebrate and honor Greg. A big part of that will be going on just like we always have.”
I had something else to say but wasn’t sure how to start, so I just barged right ahead. “As you know, we have someone in the infirmary who claims to be immune. Well, we need to let you know that this has proven to be true.”
Any sense of restraint or calm broke in the room as people started shouting questions.
“What does this mean?”
“Can he make us immune?”
“Are you sure?”
Thank God, Doc Wilson stood up and raised his arms in the air for everyone to be quiet. It took twenty seconds for the room to calm down. “We know that he is immune. We have used a blood transfusion from Jason to Hub to keep the virus at bay, and Hub is holding his own, but....” the talking started again, and the Doc had to shout above it to continue. “But this isn’t sustainable. The young man, Jason, only has a finite amou
nt of blood. Greg and the team collected some lab equipment at the hospital, and I’m going to do some more testing, but I want to make this all very clear. I am not a research scientist, and, even if I were, I have no way of making a vaccine. I don’t have the equipment.”
The questions started again, but Kara broke in, “We do have hope though. Something will come of this. I just know it.”
I stood and said, “Unless anyone else has anything else to say right now, I’m adjourning the meeting so that we can get ready for Greg’s memorial. We will have another meeting tomorrow to have the election.”
There was more to say, and the meeting went on for another hour with us just spinning our wheels and nothing productive happening. I finally had to really end it, telling people that there was work to be done, and I would truly address all of their questions tomorrow.
Epilogue
Greg’s memorial was both heartbreaking and inspiring. Kara and Doc Wilson led it with Kara’s taking care of the spiritual matters, and Doc’s leading the rest of the details because he had known Greg the longest. Ellen, Greg’s wife, and Henry, his son, were rocks during the whole ceremony. I had trouble looking at them because their grief was so obvious despite their restraint. Tears flowed freely, but there were no laughs as we recounted some of our favorite stories about Greg. The pain was just too close to surface.
It was a long day, and I basically collapsed into bed when it was over. I had no dreams or visions but just slept like the dead. Only I had to wake up the next morning.
I dreaded the next day because of the impending election. Adding a new member to our team was a wildcard that I didn’t want to have to deal with. Of course, my tenure as top dog would end, and while I didn’t really want to lead, there’d be the vote of no confidence on me that would really bite.
We tallied the votes, and there was bad news and then worse news when it was all over.
There was no campaigning, but Brother Ed worked behind the scenes and used his influence to get himself voted onto the leadership team which we all knew was going to be a disaster. But the people had spoken.
That was the bad news. The worse news came with the results of who would be our real leader. If Brother Ed’s vote was a disaster, this next vote was a catastrophe.
I was voted in as leader by a landslide.
My reaction was best summed up in two words, holy shit.
A Note from the Author:
First, let me express my gratitude to you for reading my book. Writing is a long journey that ends with you as the reader. It is my deepest hope that you enjoyed this journey. I only ask that you consider writing a review of the book on Amazon. As an independent author, reviews are the lifeblood of my future success.
Table of Contents
Prologue Revelation 6: 8
Chapter 1 The Winter of Our Discontent
Chapter 2 Friend or Foe?
Chapter 3 Foes
Chapter 4 Pre-Trial Proceedings
Chapter 5 The Trial
Chapter 6 Catch and Release
Chapter 7 Lord of the Dead I
Chapter 8 Life on the Home Front
Chapter 9 Lord of the Dead II
Chapter 10 Northward Bound
Chapter 11 As If It Couldn’t Get Worse
Chapter 12 Detour
Chapter 13 Field Trip
Chapter 14 The Nest
Chapter 15 Return Trip
Chapter 16 Recruits
Chapter 17 False Security
Chapter 18 Double Vision
Chapter 19 Of the Living and the Dead
Chapter 20 The Memorial and Training Days
Chapter 21 The Visitor
Chapter 22 The Fall
Chapter 23 Truth and Consequences
Chapter 24 The Fall II
Chapter 25 Triple Vision
Chapter 26 The Fall III
Chapter 27 Omens
Chapter 28 Escape
Chapter 29 The Futility of It All
Chapter 30 Aftermath
Chapter 31 In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning
Chapter 32 The Farm
Chapter 33 The New Recruits
Chapter 34 Desperate Measures
Chapter 35 Hometown Troubles
Chapter 36 A Ray of Hope
Chapter 37 A Trip to the Hospital
Chapter 38 Test Drive
Chapter 39 The Hospital
Chapter 40 No More Nomads
Chapter 41 Trapped
Chapter 42 Incursion
Chapter 43 Out of the Frying Pan
Chapter 44 Ambush
Chapter 45 Counter Attack
Chapter 46 End Game
Chapter 47 All Over But the Crying
Chapter 48 Like a Dark Phoenix
Chapter 49 Requiem
Epilogue
A Note from the Author: