Riposte (The Redivivus Trilogy Book 2)

by Kirk Withrow

  Bearing witness to the death and destruction that only intensified as they moved deeper into Atlanta caused what little hope John had left to dwindle considerably. Troubled by all that he had witnessed at the airport, John was happy to focus his attention on the map while Reams drove. Still, he could not help but think about something the old man had said. “You are bound to see things that will make you question your decision.”

  With his doubt about their chances of reaching the CDC at an all-time high, John could not agree more. He felt like all he had done was question his decision from the moment he made it, but never more than in that instant. Even so, they covered what they expected to be the worst fifteen miles of the trip with comparatively little difficulty following the route the strange man had indicated. John decided to trust the old man he neither knew nor understood; he had not steered him wrong so far.

  Driving north along Briarcliff Road, Reams suddenly jammed on the brakes. John’s head shot up, and he immediately saw the reason for Reams’ action. An enormous group of revs filled the road less than one hundred yards ahead, barely contained by a barricade that looked woefully inadequate to hold back such a large number. He imagined the only reason the barricade had not already collapsed was that nothing had caused the revs to surge against the flimsy chain link and sandbag barrier. If they did, the obstacle would do little but slow them down.

  “Holy shit,” Reams said.

  John’s head sagged at the sight of the revs jostling to be closest to the chain link fence and the prey they sensed on the other side. Although he had not said anything, John had secretly worried their good fortune would not hold out. Reams scanned the area around them, looking for any way around the infected swarm.

  The barricade was strategically placed at a point where the road crossed a large creek. While this certainly made the meager barricade more defensible, it also left them with no apparent options going forward. Crestfallen, they stared at the insurmountable group of revs standing between them and their goal. None of them noticed when the fence began to buckle under the weight of the horde that had clearly taken notice of their presence.

  In his despair, John was unaware that Kate had removed the map from his lap. When her frantic voice called from the back seat, he barely heard it.

  “Reams, back up! Emory Road should be about fifty yards back on the right. It won’t take us all the way there, but it will get us to within less than a mile by foot. Hopefully the creek has kept the number of infected in the area to a minimum, and the barricade might slow the others enough to buy us some time. Aside from pushing straight through the horde or taking a major detour, I don’t see any other good options,” Kate said.

  Reams had the truck in reverse before Kate finished talking. The road was there just as Kate had said, and he followed it until it began to curve away from the CDC campus. Reams slammed on the brakes and threw the truck into park. No sooner than they stepped out of the Hummer, the clattering sound of the fence collapsing and the chain link being trampled under countless shuffling feet echoed through the distance. None of them were surprised to hear the proof of the barricade’s impotence.

  Moving quickly, they each gathered what they could carry and set off into the woods. They encountered a few revs scattered amongst the trees, but there was enough space between them to make most fairly easy to avoid. Those they could not, they dispatched without trouble. After nearly a quarter mile of slow jogging, Kate saw the creek snaking through the forest ahead.

  Coming to a stop at the edge of the bank, Kate stared down at the tangle of revs standing in the chest deep water. Others protruded from the steep, muddy walls as if they had been carried downstream after a heavy rain only to be buried as the water receded. Glancing in both directions, she saw that the rest of the creek was alive with movement as well. I guess we know why there aren’t many infected in the forest…

  Kate noticed a section of the creek that appeared to be free of revs, and considered crossing there. When she saw the way the water churned in the area, however, she reconsidered the wisdom of going into the water at all. I’m guessing that’s not a turtle. Can revs swim? The thought of plunging into the murky water only to be taken down by a submerged rev sent an icy chill through her body. In the distance, beyond John and Reams’ heavy breathing, Kate thought she heard the faint groans of the horde in the woods behind them.

  John and Reams must have heard them as well, because they put on a burst of speed as they neared Kate’s location. She whirled, signaling for them to slow down, as she was unsure if either man saw the creek.

  John slowed immediately. Whether Reams did not notice her signal or merely because of the physics governing his momentum, he continued charging ahead. As if finally seeing the creek at the last second, he came to a screeching halt, teetering on the edge of the ravine. “Son of a…” was all Reams managed say between gasping breaths. He felt as though his heart might explode in his chest as he stared wide-eyed at the hungry maws and reaching hands waiting below.

  “How are we going to cross? I think there are revs submerged in the water,” Kate said with a note of panic creeping into her voice. Desperately looking for a way out, they searched in every direction but behind them; none of them ready to acknowledge the horde relentlessly pressing toward them.

  Less than thirty yards away, John saw something that filled him with a renewed sense of hope. “Quick, follow me. I have an idea,” John said as he raced along the bank. The infected below cried out in succession as if they were sports fans doing the wave as the three passed.

  Reaching the spot, John used a long branch to snag the thick rope hanging from a sturdy branch jutting out over the creek below. With the realization of what John had in mind, Reams immediately began to protest. “No way! There’s no way my big ass is gonna swing out over that creek,” Reams said as he stared at the infected below that seemed to be goading him to give it a shot.

  “Reams, what other choice do we have?” John pleaded. “You can hear them as well as I can. They will be on us any minute now, and there are too many to fight. We’ll be forced into the creek.” John saw that Reams knew he was right, despite the fact that the big man was shaking his head.

  All Reams could see was the branch snapping under his substantial weight, with him suspended over the little river of death running below. When he hit the muddy bottom, he would sink so deep that all he would be able to do would be wait for the painfully slow revs to squirm and wriggle their way toward him as he watched their agonizing progress.

  His terrifying vision was interrupted by the creak of the rope against the tree branch as Kate swung out over the fifteen-foot ravine like Jane of the Jungle. She landed with a thud.

  The rope sailed back across to John’s waiting hand. “Reams?” he said, as much a question as anything else.

  With a sigh, Reams said, “John, that old ass rope probably doesn’t have the strength to support me.”

  “Only one way to find out,” John said, and forced a smile.

  With the sound of the approaching horde increasing in the distance, Reams said, “Okay, but you first.”

  John gave him an appraising look before slinging his rifle, grabbing the rope, and sailing across to the other side.

  As the rope swung back, Reams thought he heard it let out a groan of protest over what was about to happen. “You and me both,” he said, as he snatched the rope out of the air. He looked at it with pleading in his eyes, and muttered, “All right, rope. Get me across this one time, and I swear I’ll never be back.” Knowing he would talk himself out of it if he waited any longer, Reams bounded forward, whizzing through the air over the rev’s outstretched arms.

  John watched the thick branch bend under the weight as Reams passed the midpoint of his swing. As he began the upswing toward their side of the creek, John watched in horror as the tree branch snapped straight as it was suddenly relieved of all the weight. It took a moment for John to register that the rope was no longer attached. Looking to the spot w
here he expected to see Reams hurtling toward them, John saw only thin air and the frayed end of a rope disappearing into the creek below.

  Having backed away from the edge of the bank to make room for what they anticipated would be a hard landing, both John and Kate raced forward. When they looked down into the creek bed, all they saw was a clump of infected fighting over the end of the rope. Reams was nowhere in sight. Not caring if she called every infected within earshot down upon them, Kate screamed, “Reams!”

  Momentarily confused, the revs in the creek turned to investigate the sound coming from above. Just as Kate was about let loose with another cry, a voice called out from outside her field of vision:

  “Do you have to let every damn one of them know we’re here?” Reams barked.

  Moving closer to the edge, John and Kate saw Reams clinging to the steep, slippery bank a few feet above the water level. While the closest revs were hopelessly mired in the creek’s muddy floor, several others slogged through the turbid water making it look as though a feeding frenzy of hungry piranhas approached. They were still ten feet away but steadily advancing on the floundering man.

  The lead rev had been a young female, and it moved a little easier presumably because of its smaller stature. Its right ear was attached only at the earlobe, and it swung wildly with every step like a ridiculously long earring. It wore the threadbare remains of a long-sleeved blouse, the left sleeve torn away completely. Stained a bloody red, nearly the entire humerus bone was exposed where the skin and muscle had been gnawed away. The arm swung lifelessly as its side, like a counterweight to the dangling ear.

  As the revs struggled, their groans sounded like grunts of exertion that were no less unsettling. In addition, the sound of sloshing water drew the attention of other revs nearby. Digging his heels in, Reams clung to an exposed tree root above him. Although he was stable for the time being, he knew he was in a bad spot. Any sudden movement could send him crashing into the water that churned menacingly as if something wicked awaited him just beneath the surface.

  Cautiously, he shifted his weight to the root, hoping to free his feet to climb. This seemed to work until he transferred his weight back to his feet, which sent him sliding even closer to the water’s surface. Poised like a cat, he barely breathed for fear even that might cause his precarious perch to crumble entirely. Steeling his nerves, he readied himself to fight with tooth and nail.

  Clink…clink. Clink.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Reams saw the dark red blood mist fill the air as the top of the closest rev’s skull exploded. He heard a sound like that of a brick being dropped into the water as it crumpled into a lifeless heap. The second rev joined the first, giving the appearance of a small oil spill in the muddy water.

  “Shit! I’m out,” John said from atop the bank. His third shot entered the face of the next closest rev, but clearly missed the brain as it succeeded only in spinning the thing around. John dug through his small pack before his hand came to rest on a rifle magazine. His heart sank as he pulled it out and noticed how light it was.

  The next rev in line for the Reams buffet was still over ten feet away and just now getting itself turned back around. John slung his rifle and called, “Hang on, buddy. We’ll get you out of there.” Despite his words, he had no idea how he and Kate could accomplish such a Herculean task. His first thought was of him stretching down to give Reams a hand while Kate held his legs. As soon as Reams transferred any weight to their tenuously clasped hands, he imagined all three of them plunging headlong into the shallow water. Looking around for the rope that had snapped, or any other means to haul the big man up from the bottom of the ravine, John noticed the root Reams was holding onto for dear life. In a burst of inspiration, an idea materialized in John’s mind.

  Dropping to his knees, John frantically dug through his pack until he found the length of paracord stowed inside. When he held it up, he immediately doubted the thin cord could support even half of Reams’ weight. He recalled his old friend, Al, rattling on about the amazing properties of the small rope. Al had mentioned that the rope was called paracord-550—the 550 referring to the weight it could handle or some other measure of its strength. John prayed Al was right, as he tied several loop knots along the length of rope. Noting the rev whose face he blew off was now less than five feet from Reams, he rushed to secure the rope to a nearby tree trunk. John let out the breath he had been holding when he tossed the rope into the ravine and saw that it just reached the water’s edge. “Reams, climb up. Hurry! There’s a group of infected heading toward us up here,” John said excitedly.

  Reams wasted no time scaling the steep bank; he was halfway to the top by the time the faceless rev made it to the bottom of the rope. When Reams reached the lip, both John and Kate hooked him under the armpits and hauled him up the rest of the way.

  Despite being muddy and exhausted, Reams managed to keep pace with John and Kate as they raced through the forest in hopes of staying ahead of the horde approaching from the west. They came to a break in the trees and found themselves pressed up against a fence surrounding a baseball field.

  Inside the enclosure, a makeshift refugee camp lay in shambles. Trash littered the ground and abandoned tents, shredded and partially collapsed, fluttered in the breeze. Several revs wandered aimlessly amidst the rotting corpses and detritus strewn across the former playing field. Hoping to avoid another encounter with the infected, the three survivors skirted along the outside of the fence, being careful to remain out of sight as they moved in a northwesterly direction. When they rounded the corner of the enclosed field, they turned northeast and saw the tops of a cluster of buildings rising above the trees in the distance.

  “There! Up ahead. We’re almost there,” Kate exclaimed.

  Kate’s words, the buildings—after all they had been through, none of it seemed real to John. He simply could not allow himself to believe they had actually made it. To do so felt like daring the heavens to throw yet another insurmountable obstacle in their path.

  Immediately ahead, the woods parted where a set of train tracks cut a narrow swath through the trees. As they climbed onto the rails that appeared to stretch to infinity in one direction, they were relieved to find they were clear. Gazing in the opposite direction, John saw the outline of several derailed train cars lying motionless, like the dead bodies of so many beached whales. Something that would have been a major headline a month ago garnered little more than a second glance as they dropped down off the tracks and disappeared back into the trees. When the forest began to thin, the full outline of the CDC facility came into view.

  “Not another fence,” Reams groaned in frustration.

  The woods ended abruptly several hundred feet past the train tracks; the only obstacle between them and the CDC campus was the tall fence protecting its southern border. Staring through the chain link at the deserted expanse beyond, none of them said a word as they took in the bleak landscape. There was no movement inside the fence, and for a split second, John thought he would have welcomed the sight of a rev shambling around—at least it would have been something. From their vantage point, only a fraction of the sprawling facility was visible. A small lake set less than twenty feet from the fence, eliminating any possibility of heading to the left once inside. The majority of the buildings lay to the right, and they could just make out the aftermath of a fierce battle blanketing the land in the distance.

  Spurred on by the knowledge that the infected horde was still on their trail, they scaled the tall fence quickly and quietly. Although it was eerily quiet, a subtle energy buzzed in the air, like that of a coiled snake waiting for the right moment to strike. Having not completely accepted they had made it, they wondered when scores of revs would come swarming out like the cruel punch line of a sick joke.

  After a full minute in which nothing happened, Kate said, “So that’s it? We’re here? Where do we go now?”

  To be honest, John was not entirely sure where they should go or what they shoul
d do. The overall lack of activity made him seriously question whether he had correctly interpreted Lin’s broken call so long ago. He was not sure what he had expected to find. Perhaps a few soldiers and scientists rushing about inside a well-fortified and well-guarded compound—certainly more than what they had found. Fighting back his sinking feeling, John said, “I’m not sure. I guess we just keep going and see what we find farther in.”

  John knew his answer sounded lame, but if Reams or Kate shared his concerns, he could not tell. Their decision was made for them when they heard the first of the pursuing revs kicking gravel against the metal rails in the forest behind them.

  They crept forward nervously, as though waiting for some ghoulish monster to jump out at any moment. All around them they saw the evidence of a bloody confrontation between man and rev. The final resting place of so many people, spent bullet casings and blood-spattered concrete told the lurid tale of the now quiet battlefield. Corpses—unburied and rotting—occupied nearly every inch of space, making it seem as if the trio were walking on a carpet of the dead. Blood, long since dried to a dark ruddy brown, stained everything. Not even the shameless carrion scavengers dared to venture into the cursed and diseased place. Never in his worst nightmares had John imagined such an unholy wasteland.

  When his mind was finally able to see past the pall of death spread across the ground, John noticed the crashed vehicles and abandoned bunkers—evidence of the military’s failure to hold back the infected scourge. While a few buildings appeared relatively unscathed, most bore signs of significant damage. One building situated on the far side of the lake was little more than a charred concrete hull. It was clear that whatever had happened there had been horrible and all encompassing.

  The uneasy silence filling the air was broken by a sound so faint it was difficult to say it was there at all. As they walked, it slowly grew in intensity until none of them could deny it. Although they saw no infected, the telltale moans echoing between the ghostly forms of the buildings broadcast their presence. When the path they were following split, veering sharply to the left and the right, John thought he heard the infected coming from his left. He turned to investigate, but saw nothing aside from the same death and destruction that covered the rest of the campus grounds. Frustrated and concerned, John said, “The way sound bounces around between these buildings, I can’t get a fix on the revs.”