The Wild Ones (Book 2)

by Jack Hunt

  The front windshield shattered.

  A red mist puffed from his face and he slumped to one side.

  Screams filled the air.

  I swung my rifle off the wall and headed into the grounds.

  The teen swerved the truck, then slammed the brakes on and burst out of the driver’s door before racing back towards the camp. Brooke would have done the same but by the time she hauled herself out from beneath Sean’s lifeless body she spotted me. I stood at the gate as the others made their way down. Nick grabbed Brooke and embraced her while the others stared into the truck and then looked at me. Okay, maybe it was a lucky shot and perhaps I was taking a huge risk but after all we’d been through, I figured it was worth it.

  Ryland, Jamal, and the others patted me on the back as I made my way in. Tobias just stared into the truck at Sean. His eyes darted to mine and the expression on his face changed. He shook his head and gritted his teeth. “His life was mine to take, not yours.”

  “Tobias,” Brooke said, but he turned and walked back to the camp.

  Daniels, the “old man” as I came to call him, was the last to join us. “What did I miss?”

  “Oh, only everything,” Ryland said patting him on the shoulder. He gazed into the truck and then looked at me.

  “This was all you?” he said in a surprised manner.

  I slung my rifle over my back. “Don’t act so surprised, old man. I can shoot as good as anyone else.”

  “Apparently so, well done, kid.”

  “Stop calling me kid.”

  “Stop calling me old.”

  He smiled, and I hopped into the truck and swung it around, taking it back up to the camp. As I drove the short distance, I glanced at Sean in the seat, blood sprayed against the interior, his body slumped over. A week ago I would have never contemplated taking the life of another, and yet now I felt no remorse.

  Road Trip

  Hell has no fury like a road trip in a zombie apocalypse. Two hundred and ninety-three miles, that was the distance from camp to Boston. What should have taken no more than five hours traveling east on I-90 would take us a hell of a lot longer. It was a lot of stopping and starting, hitting accident after accident and arguing as to which was the best way to go with the obstacles in our path. The road was littered with abandoned vehicles. I wouldn’t have minded if they’d pulled off to the hard shoulder but people had just stopped in the middle of the damn road and bolted. Doors wide open, luggage scattered, and paperwork rolling across the landscape like tumbleweed. Human carcasses had become the new form of road kill. Ten of us piled into two trucks, one of which belonged to the men we’d killed, the other was one of two we’d originally arrived in.

  Leaving the camp wasn’t as easy as I imagined. After the siege was over, we now had to think about the twelve teens who’d remained at the camp with Rob. Some of them lived in Long Lake, others Tupper, and the rest were spread throughout Hamilton County.

  Hours earlier, Daniels loaded the vehicles with food and rifles taken from the fallen. He argued with Brooke who had bonded with the group over the course of the week. It was to be expected, they’d been through hell and now here they were about to be separated and probably never see each other again.

  She frowned. “We can’t just leave them.”

  “What do you expect us to do?” Daniels said, lifting another box of MREs into the back of the truck and securing it with ties. Not everyone would fit in the cabin, so we’d take turns freezing our asses off in the rear. Summer or not, when you’re doing seventy down the highway and that wind is nipping at your ears, it can get brutal.

  “Get them home. We can take them before we leave.”

  “That’s not our job. We have bigger fish to fry, like getting the doc to Boston, and saving our own ass.”

  “Is that all that matters to you?”

  “Yes, I have my daughter to think about,” he said stopping for a second and turning. “And anyway, why are you taking this up with me? Go speak with Nick, Tobias or Scott. I’m not leading this motley crew.”

  “You’re the adult here.”

  “Oh, I’m the only adult? How old are you?”

  “Nineteen.”

  “Out of high school. Lots of folks are working and have a place of their own. That’s an adult in my books.”

  She pursed her lips and scowled at him. You know, Daniels had a point. I mean it was dangerous out there and we’d already encountered numerous challenges. We were already going to be risking our lives taking Diane to Boston. Now you might be wondering why us? Why were we the ones that got tasked with assisting her across a perilous country? Well it was about numbers. The few military guys who’d survived the initial onslaught had holed up at the hospital and were protecting the doctors and nurses who’d also made it. Their marching orders were to keep that place operational at all costs. But it wasn’t just that, Diane had butted heads with her superiors over the critical discovery she’d made about the infection. They told her she was insane to attempt to make the trip and suggested waiting it out until they got the power back on, at which time they would make contact with Boston and provide the information that way. Like anyone with a lick of sense, she knew the power wasn’t coming back on. I also had to wonder if her time with Daniels had swayed her decision. Either way, that’s how she ended up with us. Oh, and of course there was the small fact that we wanted to survive, and Boston was the only safe zone we’d heard about since this little shit fiesta had kicked off.

  Daniels tossed a few bloody rifles in the back of the Ford’s truck bed. They clattered against the metal. “Look, Brooke, everyone is in this hole together. Now if they want to come with us, tell them to get into the third vehicle and follow but I’m not babysitting you all.”

  “No one is asking you to, and they don’t want to go. They just want to go home and see their parents.”

  “Best of luck. Have you seen it out there? There is no home. They’ll be lucky to find their parents alive.” He eyed the crowd gathered outside the compound. “Lola, did you find the ammo?”

  “Yeah, got it, Dad.”

  Brooke stood there with her arms folded looking like she was about to throw a fit. She turned to Nick as if hoping he would provide moral support but he just shrugged and went about stocking the truck. I knew Nick well enough to know that he wasn’t going to risk his neck for a bunch of teens. At least, that was the impression I’d got, time would soon show me otherwise.

  In the end several of the teens said they would drive the others home and to go on without them. I have to say it was a huge weight off my shoulders. I was beginning to find that this new world we were living in carried a fair amount of guilt-ridden situations. Should someone live or die? Should we steal from someone who might need food? Should we leave behind those who might need our help? The decisions never ended.

  The truck struck the corner of an SUV and everyone jerked forward.

  “Geesh, Scotty, watch where you’re going.”

  I jerked the wheel to the right and gained control of it. Nick’s voice came over the two-way radio from the other vehicle. “Everything okay?”

  Ryland put his feet up on the dashboard. Static crackled over the radio. He pressed the button. “Yeah, yeah, it’s just Scotty dreaming that he was surrounded by a harem of women.” He chuckled and glanced at me and I shook my head. In our vehicle there was Alexa, Ryland, Eli, Daniels and Lola. In Nick’s, there was Diane, Jamal, Tobias and Brooke. I weaved the truck around the long stretch of traffic thinking about what might have occurred to cause so many to exit their vehicles and flee. Had they encountered a horde?

  Zs chomping down on some poor soul’s remains on the hard shoulder made it pretty obvious. I cast a glance at Daniels in the back with his daughter. They were bundled up under a blanket as the truck we had didn’t have a rear cabin, just enough room on the passenger side for two.

  “I wonder if they have power in Boston? I would die for a burger right about now. You know a greasy one with loads of
ketchup, mustard, onions and…”

  “Okay, we get it,” Alexa replied picking at a loose thread on her jeans before taking a bite of a granola bar. It was fair to say that no one really knew how badly they missed anything until they were thrown into a situation like this. I’d always thought about the country coming under attack from the North Koreans or Russians but that was about the extent of it. And even then, I figured we wouldn’t starve as we could hunt in the wilderness but with those flesh-eating freaks out there, whatever game existed would probably end up as zombie chow, an all-you-can-eat buffet. Sure, they would have to catch them first but every day the crowds were getting bigger. Eventually there would be no living alive. That’s why it was critical for us to help the doc get to Boston. It wasn’t just about us surviving but about putting an end to this.

  “Another half an hour and you’re going to have to swap with Daniels and Lola.”

  “Why me? I think it’s my turn to drive.”

  “You drove before me,” I replied.

  “Yeah, and I didn’t run into a vehicle. You sure you don’t need glasses?” He chuckled, then sighed, but he didn’t sound frustrated, more relieved. “All I know is it’s going to be good when we arrive. No more night shifts.”

  “Oh you’ll still have to do that,” I replied. “They won’t just allow you to stay rent-free. You’re gonna need to earn it.”

  “No, the military guys will do all of that. They are trained for this kind of thing.”

  Alexa snorted. “And I bet you think you won’t be pitching in cooking.”

  “The women will do that.”

  She jabbed him in the ribs and he heaved. “Do you want to say that again?”

  “C’mon, woman, I was joking. Of course I will supervise you peeling spuds.”

  She gave him a really hard punch just above the knee. “The next one goes in your nuts. I don’t get why guys act like we should be cleaning and cooking while you patrol. I swear, if everyone is pitching in at the safe zone, I’m volunteering for perimeter patrol. Screw peeling spuds.”

  “Now who’s sexist?” Ryland said before grinning.

  I rolled my head around on my shoulders. I’d been driving for the better part of two hours but we’d barely made any progress, it was worse than being stuck in the heaviest traffic jam. There had been times we’d had to kill the engine and not make a sound as a horde of dead shuffled across the highway.

  “Shit, it’s my last cigarette,” Ryland said, tapping one out of the pack and putting it between his teeth.

  “Maybe it’s time you gave those up. Can’t be doing your lungs any good,” Alexa said.

  “Please. Don’t lecture me on bad habits, I’ve seen the way you’ve been swigging down alcohol like it’s the last drop on the planet.”

  Their banter went back and forth. I glanced at the gasoline dial. It was getting low.

  “We should stop, siphon some gas from these vehicles. Get on the radio to Nick, give him the heads-up.”

  I veered over to the edge of the road and eased off the accelerator. The indicator was in the red. This would be the first time we’d had to do it since leaving because we’d loaded up a couple of gas canisters with as much fuel as we could take. We really didn’t want to end up stopping but it was inevitable. I hopped out and stretched my legs. Ahead of us there was about six Zs ambling along, nothing to raise any concern. I grabbed the canister out the back of the truck, along with the tube.

  “Remember what I said,” Daniels told me as he took the blanket off so he could get out and stretch. “If the tube doesn’t go in, it has an anti-siphon mechanism. Stick to the older vehicles.”

  I nodded and headed off. Apparently siphoning vehicles even when there wasn’t a zombie apocalypse had become so common that manufacturers had come up with a nifty way to stop it by inserting a ball into the filler neck. The ball prevented a tube from getting into the gas tank which meant the only way to get through was to make a hole in the tank itself. You couldn’t just jam a screwdriver through the metal; well, you could, but you had to be prepared to get your face blown off. Anyway, you get the point. As I made my way over to the first vehicle, some old banger from the ’80s, I noticed Tobias eyeing me. He hadn’t been the same since losing his father, and he certainly didn’t like the fact that I killed Sean. He hadn’t spoken a word since and I had to wonder what his mental stability was like. It wasn’t uncommon in war for soldiers to lose their minds when they lost brothers-in-arms but to have your father die in your arms? That could seriously screw with a person’s psyche.

  After inserting the tube and sucking out the gas to get it flowing, I stood there as it gurgled in the metal canister and watched Jamal hop out of the vehicle and charge at a Z. Personally I wasn’t into killing the things. Don’t get me wrong; it wasn’t because I thought they were a human or any of that sappy shit. No, I didn’t have any qualms about putting them down but I didn’t relish it. Jamal — well he was a different kettle of fish. He looked like he got off on it. Like the whole thing was some extension of a PS4 game.

  I watched him bash the skull of some Z, knocking it to the ground and then stamping on its head multiple times. He looked back at us and grinned before moving on to the next.

  Alexa came over and leaned against the side of the car all sultry like. She had this way about her that made me tense. In a good way but tense, nonetheless.

  “Sorry about your parents,” I said.

  She shrugged but said nothing.

  She stared at the ground but looked off towards Jamal each time he let out a cry of enthusiasm over another kill. Prior to our arrival at the campground, we’d each taken the time to visit our homes to leave behind letters for our parents or see if they were alive. Alexa had found her parents clinging to each other in the bedroom, a bullet through both of their skulls. She had no siblings, and her grandmother lived in California. I’d seen the look of excitement on her face as we’d pulled up at her house and she saw her parents’ vehicle outside. I heard the hope in her voice as she called their names and hurried through the house searching each of the rooms. Then, I watched it all crumble, as tears streaked her cheeks and she fell to her knees. There was nothing that could be said that would bring her comfort although we tried. I think the only solace she found was in knowing she wasn’t alone.

  Jamal’s visit to his home was an odd one. He entered and returned five minutes later without even a tear on his face. He hopped in and smiled and told us to head out. We learned later that he’d found the remains of his parents in the backyard; they’d been devoured and were crawling around, just the top half. I figured he would have been devastated, utterly ruined by it. No. Unless of course he’d put on a brave face and pushed down his emotions. Either way it wasn’t good. Who knew when it would come bubbling up to the surface? I cast my gaze towards him and watched the way he took down Zs one after the other as if finding relief in the killing.

  Now Ryland, that wasn’t so strange. His parents weren’t there when he returned, and like me he left a note. He seemed quite confident that if anyone would survive, it would be his parents because of their work in the military. “They’ll be in Boston. Yep. I guarantee it.”

  No one wanted to burst his bubble as we didn’t know.

  Then of course there was Eli. Now that was a strange situation if I’d ever seen one. When asked if he wanted to drop by his family’s home he shook his head. “Are you sure?” Nick had asked.

  “Positive.”

  I recalled what Eli had said about his mother being worried out of her mind and yet here he was after being holed up at the hospital for a week, and he was acting like he wasn’t bothered. There was more to it and I’d eventually find out but when that would be was anyone’s guess. Eli became tight-lipped and changed the topic when anyone spoke about family.

  I squinted and raised a hand to my eyes to block the glare of the afternoon sun. Although the people of the world had gone to hell, at least the rain had stopped.

  “Ugh, guys! G
uys!” Jamal yelled.

  He was about fifty yards down the road, Eli was with him and both were looking at the front of a truck. Daniels was busy talking to Nick and had a map on the front of a hood. Tobias looked on uninterested. I asked Alexa if she would hold the tube while I went and saw what he was yelling about. I figured they’d either found a stash of food, or a bunch of old porno mags. When I made it there and rounded the oversized disposal truck, I couldn’t believe it.

  The Ring

  High above the cab, strapped to front of the truck was a naked man. His head hung low, long hair draped down covering half of his chest. It was hard to tell if he was dead or alive as there was dried blood down the front of his body, however, his skin hadn’t turned that pasty white, and no veins were popping out, but his body was purple and swollen around the chest and wrists where he’d been restrained.

  Eli took a few steps back.

  “That shit is sick. Who the hell would do that?”

  I shook my head, it was hard to comprehend. The vehicle was your typical run-of-the-mill white garbage truck that was used for curbside collection of residential, commercial or industrial waste removal. Either side of the unit it had the words: TAMLIN’S DISPOSAL SERVICE and a red graphic that ran along the side. Even as I jogged past the back end of it, it stunk real bad, the kind of stench associated with death. Now I’d seen truck drivers attach all manner of things to the front end of their vehicles. It was a mystery why they did it, but up and down the country you didn’t have to search hard to see hauler’s rigs with slightly battered stuffed toys lashed to the grills. In fact, it wasn’t just limited to the United States, the act of strapping a bear, Elmo doll or monkey to the front of the radiator grill was a worldwide practice. Apparently it had its roots in hunters tying real dead animals to the grill to get them home. Was there any truth in that? Who knew, but tying a human? Stripping him of his clothes was not only a way to strip him of his dignity but a sick form of punishment. By the looks of his skin I figured he’d died of hyperthymia.