by Sean Kidd
I didn’t like the idea of letting them drive away with those girls but what choice did we have. Once the Humvee was out of sight, we hopped to our feet and headed north, not knowing what we’d find.
CHAPTER 26
October 11th 11:46pm
The Humvee passed through center city and began to pick up speed as it traveled up Route 3. The girls on the back used this road every day, but never tied to the back of a truck. The blonde looked over at her fellow prisoner with the long straight brown hair. She was so afraid that she was covered with goose bumps, her teeth chattered when she spoke, “Are you okay? My name is Kate Evans. I remember you from high school. You were a few years behind me. It’s Sage, right?” The brunette looked over at Kate. Blood had run down the side of her mouth and chin, already beginning to dry a dark brown, a gift from the cowboy’s flying boot. “It’s Sage, Sage Castaneda.” she whimpered, “Where are they taking us?”
Kate tried to look over her shoulder, but couldn’t see anything, “I’m not sure where we’re going, but we just passed the mall, and we’re heading out of town. Are you okay, your face is covered in blood?” Sage lifted her chin trying to wipe the blood away with her suspended arm, “I remember you too. You go to Plattsburgh State. I go there now too. I’m a freshman.” Sage explained as she looked up, her hands giving the chain a shake, hoping to break free from her bonds, “It’s no use. I’ve already tried that!” Kate said hopelessly.
The vehicle slowed down and made a sharp left turn onto a rough road. The force of the vehicle turning, pulled on the zip ties forcing Sage to release a whimper of pain, “Ouch! Where are we, Kate?”
Kate looked around, lost herself, until they passed through the white ticket booth gate. “We’re at the fairgrounds!” Sage studied the area as the Humvee turned into the collage of buildings, “What are we doing here?” Sage asked.
“I said to shut up down there, or do you want another boot across the beak?” The cowboy hollered from the roof of the Humvee. The two girls continued to watch in silence as they weaved in and out of the fair buildings. The Humvee pulled up to a long building and stopped in front of a large garage door. Someone inside of the Humvee yelled, “Open up,” and the metal door hummed and squeaked as it opened.
Two men with rifles stood just inside the building ready to attack any unwanted intruders. The garage door was quick to close behind them. The two men with the rifles slid crowbars through the door’s wheel track for added protection. The vehicle’s engine stopped and Wife Beater who had been manning the fifty-caliber climbed down and walked toward another man who had been controlling the garage door, “What’s up Kane?” Wife Beater called out as he walked over to the male giving him a high five. Kate and Sage examined Kane as he walked over to them. He was muscular and handsome, with his strong jaw and dirty blonde hair. Both girls thought he seemed like the kind of guy they would have dated before everything happened. Kane climbed up on the Humvee bumper, grabbed an anchor leaning back and studied the girls for a moment. A smile stretched across his face as he reached behind him, pulling a twenty-inch cane knife from his belt. Kane moved over to Sage and dragged the knife across her cheek hard, but not enough to break the skin, “Oh honey, it looks like you’ve been bleeding. Was your mouth running a little too much on the ride here?” Kane moved in close and smelled Sage’s hair. He moved back sliding his cheek against hers. The stubble on his face was irritating. He whispered something in Sage’s ear and licked some of the dry blood away from her chin. Sage began to flail.
“Leave her alone you bastard!” Kate screamed.
Kane snapped a look at Kate and slid over on the bumper, straddling her legs, “Oh, I’m sorry honey. Would you like my attention?” He pushed the flat side of the cane knife against Kate’s cheek. She instinctively turned her head away from the danger. The cold blade against her skin gave her a chill that ran down her spine. He slid the knife around her cheek to her lips. The metallic, coppery smell of blood enveloped her senses. Kate’s stomach came up into her throat, and she felt like she needed to vomit. Kane flipped the cane knife over, using the hook blade on the knife’s backbone, dragging it along her skin, down her neck and chest. Drips of blood seeped from the almost invisible cut.
“Oh, pretty. Pretty. Pretty. Wouldn’t you look just beautiful with your head bashed in?” Kane taunted, as he leaned in and kissed Kate on the lips. “Get off me, you bastard!” Kate screamed and shook her head from side to side. When he was done playing, he jumped down from the bumper and motioned for Wife Beater to come over, “Cut ‘em down and chain ‘em up in my office!”
Kate glanced at Sage, who was flushed with fear. In a moment of strength she screamed, “Fuck You!” Kane stopped walking and looked back at Kate over his shoulder, “All in good time my love.” Kate felt a wave of revulsion come over her.
Wife Beater climbed up on the Humvee and used the key on his belt to unlock the chain from the anchor. He pulled it away, and the girls were able to drop their hands for the first time in hours. The pain slowly diminished as the blood circulated back into their fingers. Wife Beater cut the cords binding their feet together and dragged the girls over to a work bench by the zip ties that still bound their hands. Sage watched as he grabbed an eight-foot piece of a chain off the bench. He pulled Kate close and wrapped the end of the chain around her neck and secured it with a pad lock. He took the other end of the chain and bound Sage in the same manner.
Sage felt the cold chain constrain her neck as he pulled it too tight. He snapped the padlock closed as Sage yelped, “I can’t breathe!” Wife Beater said nothing as he gave the chain a yank. He dragged the girls through the building occasionally heckling them as they followed, “Get along little doggies.” he sassed.
They were led to a small office that had the name Kane spray-painted on the door. Wife Beater opened the door and motioned for the women to go in, while he took a chivalrous bow. “After you little doggies.” He followed them in the office and told them to take a seat on the floor. He reached up and grabbed a chain hanging from the ceiling rafter. Wife Beater reached in his pocket and pulled out another lock, securing the middle of the women’s chain to the hanging chain. Sage eyed the office, already looking for an escape.
“I’ll be back in a few hours to check on you.” Wife Beater said as he was closing the door behind him. He stopped when he heard Sage scream, “Hey! Before we’re done here. I’m gonna take your boss’s knife and sink it in the top of your skull!” Wife Beater smiled at Sage, flipped off the office lights and closed the door behind him. As he walked away the women heard him say, “That will be hard to do considering you’ll be dead in a few hours.”
CHAPTER 27
October 11th 11:45pm
No matter what Chevy and I talked about, I could not get the thought of those two girls out of my head. I couldn’t understand why those guys would do that to the living with all the Dead walking around trying to eat everything.
“We’re not far now Chev!” I said as my pace quickened. A few blocks away from their house, I felt my fast walk turn into a slow jog. We turned the corner and there it was. I'd never been so happy to see my parent’s house. I chuckled to myself when I noticed the grass seriously needed a cut. Mowing the lawn had always been my job. Now that I was gone, my dad tried to get away with doing it every two weeks.
I dashed up the front steps and latched onto the door handle. It was locked, so I entered the four-digit code on the deadbolt’s keypad. The pad turned green with an accepting beep, and I turned the lock. Chevy grabbed my arm to slow me down, “Whoa! We can’t just go charging through the front door. I’m sure your dad is aware of what’s going on, and he might be sitting on the other side with a loaded rifle in his hand or worse, a dead.” Chevy said with a concerned look on his face. “Yeah! That’s a good point, we had better take this slow.” I was going to go in first, so Chevy handed me his spear, and he took over control of the door. I held the spear like I had seen Roman soldiers do in old movies. I took it with
both hands and held level at my belt line. I gave Chevy a quick nod to let him know I was ready. He gingerly opened the door that gave way to darkness. I reached for the light switch and with a flip, they popped on. I inspected the kitchen, and everything seemed in order. The dishes were done, and the house was clean. There was even a faint smell of a Pumpkin Spice candle in the air. Chevy came in and locked the deadbolt behind him, “Hey, it looks okay.” he said with a big smile on his face. We left the kitchen, passed through the dining room and into the living room. I flipped on the overhead light, and the ceiling fan came to life sending out a steady breeze. I looked around the room and spotted my mom’s phone plugged in, sitting on the stand next to her chair. If she was home that’s where you’d always find her phone. I picked it up and hit the home button. The display read: 10 New Voice Messages. “Holy shit, Chevy. Look at this.” showing the screen to Chevy. “Let’s finish checking the house first, then we’ll listen to the messages. If she’s not here, maybe she’s been leaving messages hoping you’d come here and see them.” He was probably right, checking the entire house first was a good idea, so I shoved the phone in my back pocket. We passed the empty downstairs bathroom where we’d found an open window, and headed up the stairs to the bedrooms. Half-way up the stairs, I thought I heard something thump. I looked back a Chevy and whispered, “This spear is too long for this tight space, hand me your hatchet.” I crept up the remaining stairs, trying to remember which ones squeaked. Memories of sneaking out of the house in high school days served me well. With the loud steps behind me, I edged my way down the hall stopping at my parent’s bedroom door. The door wasn’t latched, and I could see light shining through. I listened and heard something on the other side of the door. I was about to give the door a push when I heard a moan followed by a squeak of the bed.
The last thing I wanted to do was walk in on my parents having sex, the thought disgusted me.
I was about to call out to my mom when I heard a louder moan followed by snapping. I looked back at Chevy while my mind processed the sound, “Snapping!” is all that came out. I kicked the door open and saw my mom’s legs hanging off the bed. There was a dead sitting on her hips eating her face and chest, “Nooooo!” I screamed as I ran in. I went crazy swinging the hatchet wildly as hard as I could, striking the dead man on the bottom of his jaw completely ripping it off. I swung again, this time downward striking his nose with such force it buried the entire blade into his skull. I yanked the weapon from his skull, and he fell to the floor. I stood over him, out of control, hitting him again, and again, and again! So many times that his head was nothing but black puddle of crushed skin and bone. I began to tire and my swing slowed. Someone was yelling, and I hadn’t heard them.
“Ty!...... It’s not your mom!” Tears of joy flushed my eyes.
“Did you hear me, Ty? It’s not your mom!”
I did, and it felt like some hope had returned. Chevy helped me stand, and I examined the bloodied corpse laying on my parent’s bed, “Who is that?” Chevy asked. I studied the corpse but couldn’t give him an answer, “I don’t know, I’ve never seen her before.” She must have come in through that open window looking for refuge. I left the room and walked around the house screaming for my mom and dad to come out. By the time I got downstairs to the kitchen, I couldn’t take it anymore. I fell to my knees, screaming and crying. Chevy followed me to the floor and took me in his arms, “Ty, don’t cry! We’ll figure this out! I love you brother!” I hugged Chevy back and buried my face on his shoulder. For the next two minutes, he let me hug him and cry.
With no more tears, I was able to control my emotions a little better. Chevy went through the house turning off all the lights. He came back into the kitchen, closed the door leading to the dining room and wedged a chair under it, “We’ll be safe in here. There’re no windows in this room, so it will look dark and empty from the outside. We need to eat some food and get some sleep. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a long day.” Chevy and I searched the cupboards and went with a couple of hotdogs smothered in canned chili. We washed it all down with soda my mom had stuffed in the bottom of the fridge.
With our bellies full, we decided it was time to check out my dad’s “Man Room,” in the basement. We headed down the stairs and went to the spare room behind the TV, a little area my dad liked to call, “The Arm’s Room.”
He had grown up hunting and fishing with his father and in turn taught me all the same skills. My dad educated me on the proper use of every weapon he had in his arsenal. After becoming a Police Officer, he had become even more infatuated with weapons and became a serious collector. Most weapons were state of the art while some went back as far as the 5th century. The Arm’s Room was protected by a solid two inch thick steel door that my dad had paid five bucks for at an auction. It was from a secure building that was on the old Air Force base that closed down in the Eighty’s. They’d spent twenty years tearing everything apart and selling it at auction.
Chevy reached for the door handle and twisted. The door didn’t budge. The deadbolt above the handle was locked. “How the hell are we supposed to get in there?” Chevy asked.
“Try the combination!”
Chevy looked at me for a few seconds, and I stood there quietly.
“Well, are you going to give me the combination for the keypad?” he finally asked.
“Sure, it’s 2-10-1-11”
Chevy fingered the keypad entering most of the numbers, but forgetting the last few. “What is it again?”
I pushed him aside, “Move over. I'll open it.” I punched in the code the keypad flashed green, which was followed by three beeps and a click. Chevy looked at the flashing keypad and back at me asking, “How do you remember all those numbers?”
“It’s easy! Eyes, Fingers, Cock, and Toes.” Chevy gave me a confused look and then we both burst out laughing.
The laughing slowed, and I gave the door a push. It swung open and stopped when it hit the back wall with a metallic thump. Chevy walked past me into the room with his mouth wide open.
The Arm’s Room was eight feet wide, lined with counters and drawers on both sides. Above the counters were rifle racks, each holding a rifle horizontally, five racks high from the counter to the ceiling. The racks were on every wall, and every rack was holding a rifle. My mom use to joke with my dad and say, “Your racks are all full, so I guess you’ll have to sell one before you can buy another.”
That didn’t stop him. He just found other places to hide them.
Chevy went right for the back wall and grabbed a rifle off the rack, “I want this one.” he said eyeing the long gun up and down. “Chevy that’s a Barrett 82A1. It’s a sniper rifle. It’s like five feet long and weighs almost thirty pounds. Plus, I can’t see us needing to snipe a lot of dead.” Chevy heaved the gun up and down a few times, “I guess you’re right.” He set the rifle back in the rack, a little disappointed. He slowly spun in a circle gazing at all the racks and reached for another, “How about this one?” I reached out and took the gun from Chevy, “Great choice! One of my favorites. This is a B & T MP9. Only military and police can own these. It’s a semi-automatic and shoots a 9mm round. It’s got some pretty good stopping power, my dad has a thigh holster for it, somewhere in one of these drawers.” I handed the MP9 back to him and watched as he ran his hands over the gun. He stopped when he reached the barrel. “What’s this thing on the end?”
“It’s a suppressor. It makes the gun a lot quieter.”
“That’s awesome!” Chevy cheered.
I went through the drawers and started pulling out more supplies, “Here’s ten magazines for your 9. Better start filling them, here are some boxes of ammo. Each one will hold thirty rounds. Chevy watched as I opened and closed each drawer, amazed at all the gear my dad had acquired.
I was quick to pick out some of my favorites. Two Glock 17s with a fancy two gun holster, one for my right hip, one for my left. A police issued Bushmaster AR-15, tactical flashlights, knives, a
nd lots of ammo.
“What’s that?” Chevy asked as he pointed into one of the side of the drawers. I reached in pulling it out, “Do you mean this?” Chevy shook his head like an excited kid, “Yes!” I held up the weapon displaying it, “This my friend, is a SOG Tactical Tomahawk. Sixteen inches of blackened steel, topped with a three-inch axe blade in the front and a four-inch punch dagger on the back. The only purpose of this weapon is to inflict trauma.”
“I want it!” Chevy panted.
Thirty minutes later, I was done going through all the drawers. We walked out armed to the heel. I wore my dad’s handmade two rig holster, giving me access to a Glock 17 on both sides. The holster had room to accommodate six, twelve round mags. I slung my dad’s AR-15 .223 Bushmaster over my shoulder and finished off with twin Fusion Ronin Ninja Swords. I wore the swords on my back, and they crossed at the top. They may have been a cheap quality, but they sure looked cool. Chevy stepped out of the room still playing with his tomahawk. He was set up with the MP9, holstered on his right thigh. I also made him take the Remington 12 gauge combat shotgun with the back sling. You couldn’t get any better than that for close combat. We were ready for anything.
Our mission was still to find my parents, but we had added the task of saving those girls too. I flipped off the light, and we headed back to the kitchen. Chevy walked up the stairs in front of me. I caught something flash on the top of his boot, “What’s that in your boot?” I asked. Chevy crested the stairs into the kitchen and took a seat, “That’s nothing.” I reached down and pulled up his pant, exposing three Chinese throwing knives that velcroed around his boot, “What do you have those for?” I chuckled. He looked down at his boot and flexed his ankle, admiring the knives. “They’re cool, and I might need them in an emergency situation or something.”