The Good, The Dead & The Lawless (Book 2): The Hell That Follows

by Archer, Angelique

  Stewart had never felt a rush like this before.

  He didn’t want this high to end. He wanted to keep riding it for as long as possible.

  Lydia was screaming behind him. “What did you do?”

  He spun around and glared at her.

  Her hands covered her mouth, and in her horrified stare, he saw nothing but the usual contempt and unbridled disgust.

  “You… you… you’re a monster!” she shrieked.

  He was about to close the door to his cabin and follow Cade, when he paused.

  “I’m the monster?” he repeated incredulously, his voice low and menacing.

  “I said to get rid of Kennedy, not kill anyone, you stupid idiot! You can’t do anything right!” she wailed. “And now… now…”

  He stepped back into the room. “I am fucking sick of taking your orders,” he snarled, jabbing a finger into his own chest.

  He crossed over the threshold to their room, ready to go.

  “Where are you going?” Lydia demanded.

  “I’m leaving you.”

  “Leaving?” She looked flabbergasted. “You’re nothing without me!”

  He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them wide.

  In one swift motion, Stewart raised the pistol and pointed it at his wife. His forefinger didn’t even hesitate.

  He pulled the trigger repeatedly until the slide locked back with an empty chamber and watched with satisfaction as brains, blood, and bone slid wetly down the wall into a messy puddle on the floor.

  The first thing Tucker thought when he came to was that his head hurt like hell. Willing his eyelids to open, he winced in pain as he gingerly touched the back of his head, feeling a damp stickiness matted into his thinning hair.

  “Hey there,” a woman’s voice whispered. “You okay?”

  Tucker glanced to his left and saw Vetta beside him. He gave her a small smile, relieved to see a familiar face. She was kneeling, but she scooted over to him and helped him up.

  He groggily balanced on his knees and looked around. Several other passengers were kneeling like Vetta, terror in their eyes. Many of them were openly weeping, and he noticed the men usually with them weren’t present.

  “What happened?” he asked her.

  Her eyes darted back and forth, then she tilted her head toward two armed men in the car with them. They stood at the front of the car, legs spread, and rifles in their hands.

  “Cade,” she answered. “He came back.”

  “Shit,” Tucker managed with a groan. “One of them knocked me out.”

  “They’re corralling everyone into one car, killing the men if they don’t agree to join Cade.”

  Tucker straightened. “What?”

  Vetta nodded, biting her lower lip so she wouldn’t cry.

  “We’ve gotta do something,” he insisted. “Kennedy told me they weren’t going to be too far from us. We have to let them know what’s happening.”

  “How?”

  He blinked several times then faced her, renewed optimism in his eyes. “The horn. That’s the signal.”

  “Yes, but how? They’d shoot us before we even got to the door.”

  “Maybe we can create a diversion, and I’ll make a run for it.”

  “‘Run?’” Vetta repeated skeptically. “Tucker, you’re pushing sixty-five.” She looked back at the guards and took a deep breath. “I’ll do it.”

  He shook his head obstinately. “No, no. Absolutely not.”

  She ignored him. “It has to be me. You’ll never make it past them.”

  Tucker met her gaze. “No, Vetta. No. Let me do it. We can’t risk losing you.”

  She scoffed at him. “Me? You’re the only one who knows how to run this damned thing!”

  Whimpers near the entrance of the car caused them to look up. Cade and several other men entered. Vetta and Tucker both scowled when they saw Stewart amongst them.

  Taking advantage of the diverted attention, Tucker shakily shifted on his knees, struggling to get to his feet.

  Without warning, Vetta pushed him back to the ground with her shoulder and leapt up, sprinting for the entrance on the opposite end of the car.

  One of the men raised his rifle at her, causing many of the passengers to scream in protest, but Cade gestured for the man to put his gun down.

  “Get her,” he commanded.

  Vetta’s arms and legs pumped furiously; she knew Cade’s men would be right behind her.

  She could see the back of Tucker’s worn chair as she raced to the front. Throwing her body through the door, she slammed both hands around the lever for the horn and pulled it down as hard as she could just as a torrent of gunfire exploded around her, sparks dancing along the controls of the train.

  One of the bullets tore through her shoulder and another into her left thigh.

  She screamed in pain, but couldn’t let go. The horn blared loudly, the noise carrying across the train station and into the city, and she held it down, looking over her shoulder as two of Cade’s men burst into the locomotive with her.

  “Stop shooting at the fucking controls!” Cade shouted at his men.

  One of them struck her with the back of his rifle, and her hands slipped from the horn, releasing it, letting silence engulf them once more.

  Rain pelted the roof of the train, but its steady staccato against the smooth surface didn’t drown out the blubbering from those trapped in the car.

  Stewart casually held his new pistol in both hands, resting just below his waist. As he scanned the car, he noticed people were staring at him. The pathetic passengers feared him. Respected him.

  But then he felt someone brush past his arm, and he turned to see two of Cade’s goons come in, dragging Vetta’s motionless body between them, the tips of her sneakers squeaking along the floor. Her shirt and pants were soaked through with blood, and her face was ashen.

  Stewart frowned, realizing it was them the passengers had been staring at, not him.

  Cade went to Vetta and smacked her cheeks. “Wake up,” he commanded, kneeling to face her.

  Her eyelids fluttered, and when she saw Cade inches from her face, she recoiled in disgust.

  He studied her for a moment. “You really shouldn’t have done that,” he admonished her, his voice cold and emotionless.

  Then he leaned forward and whispered something in her ear. Stewart strained to hear what he had said, but he could only see Cade’s lips moving.

  Vetta suddenly flailed against the men holding her arms. “You’re a monster!”

  “Monster?” he repeated. “You want to see a monster?” He rose to his feet and grabbed a chair against the wall. Nodding to his men, they hauled her to the chair and rendered her immobile in it with zip ties. She struggled against her restraints, until the chair lurched forward and collapsed, her face hitting the ground with a sickening crack.

  Several people cried out. Vetta was well-liked by the passengers as she had tended to most of them at some point, and it pained them to witness her treatment.

  Cade stepped back and nodded at Cliff who walked past Stewart and disappeared in the next car. Then he gestured for Camacho and Stewart to get Vetta upright again. Stewart quickly moved forward, eager to show Cade that he could be a valuable member of his team.

  “I’m not much of a public speaker,” Cade began. “So I’ll keep this short. This is my train now.” He looked from left to right. “Does anyone have a problem with that?” He pointed to one of the passengers on the ground who held her child close to her bosom when Cade addressed her. Her child cried, shivering with fear. “Do you?” he questioned, crouching down to the child and touching his cheek.

  “Please don’t hurt him!” the woman implored.

  Cade smirked and stood. He motioned to another passenger, a young man who had been on Team Bravo. “How about you?” The man’s eyes met Cade’s, a spark of insurgence flitting across them.

  Cade extended his arm and jammed the barrel of his pistol against the man’s forehea
d, but the man didn’t tear his eyes away from Cade. “I’ll dumb it down for you: you’re either with us, or...” He squeezed the trigger, and the man’s brains went flying.

  He paused and rotated slowly to make eye contact with the passengers surrounding him, before settling on Vetta. “Vetta here has a problem with that,” he explained, raising his gun to her nose. He scowled at her, eventually dropping his weapon to his side. “But because a nurse is valuable to have around in these troublesome times, and being that I’m such a nice fucking guy...” He turned to Vetta and lowered his voice. “Here’s your last chance, sweetie.”

  Vetta straightened in her chair and courageously faced him, but she was getting weaker.

  “We want you to join us. You’re a medical professional. We need those.”

  Vetta laughed and spat blood and saliva at Cade’s feet. “I’d rather help Satan himself than serve with the likes of you.”

  Cade inhaled a deep breath, grinding his teeth. Stewart knew Cade was summoning up any remnants of patience with the nurse, but it wasn’t out of kindness. They really did need her.

  “I’ll never help you,” Vetta reiterated. Her lips were so swollen that her words sounded garbled. She looked around at the people in the car. “We can’t leave Kennedy and the others. She’s the best thing that ever happened to us, and unlike this bastard, the thing that meant the most to her was to save lives, not take them away when others didn’t agree with her.”

  Turning his back to her, Cade sighed. “You sure that’s what you want, hag?”

  Cliff returned to the car, something large in one of his hands.

  Vetta glared at Cliff, but when she saw what was in his hands, her features contorted in fear. She swallowed and turned her attention to the passengers. “You can’t give in to him. Please,” she pleaded shakily.

  “Alright then,” Cade capitulated. “You leave me no choice. I won’t tolerate anyone trying to stir up a mutiny.” He nodded to Cliff who had stopped just a few feet from Vetta. “Hold her down, boys.”

  Stewart grabbed one of Vetta’s shoulders, but when he saw Cliff hand Cade a bottle of Clorox bleach, he was perplexed.

  Cade took it from him and twisted off the blue cap, his eyes never leaving Vetta’s.

  “Open your mouth.”

  “Go to hell,” she said defiantly.

  Cade grabbed her face and pressed into her cheeks, his fingernails digging so hard into the soft flesh that blood began to pool around them. “Open your mouth, or I’ll fucking open it for you.”

  Stewart felt a little queasy knowing what was coming. But Cade had to make an example. He had to show the others he was in charge.

  Sloshing the liquid about as he lifted it in the air, Cade tipped the white bottle into Vetta’s open mouth.

  The woman thrashed about violently, choking and gurgling and gasping, while the chemicals spurted out of her nose and poured in rivulets from the corners of her lips. Her hands struggled at the restraints, and her feet twitched as her body spasmed.

  As the passengers shrieked in terror, Cade angrily shoved the neck of the bottle further toward the back of her throat, forcing Vetta’s mouth to open too wide, the skin ripping at the corners until half of the handle was obscured between her lips.

  When she was finally dead, he cut her hands free and dragged her by her hair to the opening between the two cars. With his boot, he shoved her off the ledge, letting her tumble to the ground below.

  Wiping the torn hair and bleach on his pants, he strode back in and walked to Tucker. The old man was sobbing, covering his face with his hands.

  “No more bullshit. You’re going to get this train moving, or you’re going to watch me kill off every single person in this car until you do. Am I making myself clear?”

  Tucker nodded through the tears, and with one gesture from Cade, found himself being escorted back to the locomotive.

  As he sat with shaky hands over the damaged controls laden with bullet holes, Tucker wondered if by complying with Cade, he was sending all of the passengers to their inescapable doom.

  Earlier that day…

  Houston checked the map one more time before neatly folding it along the creases and tucking it into his cargo pants pocket.

  If he’d calculated the distance correctly, they had about two hundred-fifty miles to cover until they got to his parents’ cabin in the Allegheny Mountains of West Virginia.

  Hotwiring a vehicle and getting as far as they could that way would be ideal and much safer, but if they were forced to make the journey on foot, he’d have them cut across the state of Virginia, avoiding cities and bigger towns and highways, until they reached the Monongahela National Forest. Their chances of running into infected there were slim. Aside for some campgrounds scattered throughout and the occasional hiker, the mountains were largely uninhabited.

  He lifted his hand to his forehead, shielding his eyes from the sun as he took in their surroundings. It still surprised him that they’d been able to get into Fredericksburg at all. He was expecting it to be congested and impassable, given its proximity to a major city like D.C.

  “You guys be safe out there.”

  Houston turned at the sound of footsteps on metal above him.

  Jeremy Higby gave him a small wave. He held a spear in his hands and pointed. “I-95 is a cluster. Cars bumper-to-bumper, on the median, in the ditches. The rotters are probably gone—well, the ones not stuck in the cars—but I’d avoid going near the interstate at all costs.”

  Houston nodded. “That’s the plan.”

  Jeremy assessed the rest of the area around them. “I don’t know where all of them are hiding. This place should’ve been crawling with rotters when we pulled in.”

  “Yeah,” Houston agreed. “I have to admit I’m pretty shocked. They must have gone to D.C.” He squinted to see past the buildings near the parking lot. “How’s it looking out there?”

  Jeremy shrugged. “Not bad actually. You’ve got some headed toward the train, but not many. You guys should be fine. Just be careful.”

  A door slid shut, and Haven stepped onto the steps leading down to the platform. Her expression was riddled with worry, but she tried to hide it by busying herself with the buckles of the front straps of her backpack, securing it to her body.

  Houston could sense the hesitance in her stance as she stood there, uncertain whether to step onto the platform or go back into the train.

  Leaving Brett and Mark, even if it would just be for a little while, was weighing heavily on her. But he’d promised her they would be in good hands. Kennedy and her men would look out for them, and of course there was Colin. Houston didn’t trust him with Haven, but he knew the Scotsman would watch over Brett and Mark like they were his own family.

  He felt a pang of guilt as he watched the inner conflict brewing in her eyes.

  But they wouldn’t be this close to West Virginia again. He had to find out if his parents had made it.

  And whatever the outcome, they’d come back and get Brett and Mark. Or he’d somehow convince Kennedy to bring everyone to West Virginia, if that’s what it took to get Haven’s family out there.

  Jeremy must have picked up on her trepidation, too, because he crouched down on the top of the train. “Don’t worry, Haven. We’ll watch out for them.”

  “Thanks, Jeremy,” she whispered gratefully.

  Saying goodbye to Mark had been agonizing, lots of tears. She’d left a letter for Brett on his bunk, but not being able to say goodbye to him was even more excruciating. In this new world, “goodbye” was often the last thing said before a loved one left, never to be seen again.

  Houston nodded to Jeremy, and he and Haven hiked down the hill leading away from the platform.

  A couple of zombies were knelt over something in the parking lot, but didn’t notice them as they went by.

  Haven cast one last look over her shoulder at the train before they turned the corner of a building, and it disappeared from sight.

  “You doing
okay?” Houston eventually asked her as they trekked through the city.

  “No,” she answered truthfully. “Not really.”

  “We’re going to come back. You know that, ri—”

  The train horn blared loudly, echoing and bouncing off the walls of the buildings around them.

  They both stared at one another for the briefest of seconds, eyes wide, then Haven threw off her pack and began sprinting back toward the train.

  “Haven!” Houston yelled, hastily grabbing her pack and taking off after her.

  When they finally got back to the station, the train was already rolling away, soon to be out of reach.

  Houston caught up to it, faster than Haven, and tossed her backpack onto the narrow walkway between the cars before grabbing ahold of a metal bar secured to the outside of the train. Hoisting himself up speedily, he swiveled and immediately reached out a hand to Haven.

  What started as a few feet between his outstretched hand and hers was growing with each passing second.

  “Come on, baby,” he whispered under his breath, his fingers urgently straining for her. Every muscle in his body tensed, poised to jump off the train in case she couldn’t make it.

  Haven’s legs burned like they were being scorched from the inside, and for a moment, she almost collapsed. But then she thought of Brett and Mark. She didn’t know why the train was leaving everyone so suddenly, why it had sounded the horn when she had yet to ever hear it, but she was certain she didn’t want her family on it without her.

  With a final heave, she sprang into the air, her hands colliding roughly with the metal bar, and her body painfully crashing against the side of the train. Houston grabbed her and pulled her toward him on the walkway. She gasped against him, trying to catch her breath.

  As the trees swept past them, and they barreled closer and closer to D.C., Haven forced away the sinking feeling pitted in her stomach.

  But deep down, she knew that something was terribly wrong.

  The old truck sputtered down Lafayette Boulevard back to the train.

  Kennedy pressed in the clutch and gave the gearshift a harsh thrust forward as she changed gears. Tears brewed in her eyes, but she stared straight ahead.