Jeff closed his eyes and sighed as he heard moaning off in the distance. In his haste to deal with Ray, he hadn’t noticed the cries of the infected, which were growing louder by the second.
“Fuck,” Jeff mumbled as he leaned toward Ray and spoke quietly to the boy. “I’m going to wrap a bandage tightly around your upper thigh, Ray.” He paused and made sure the teen was looking and listening only to him. “It’ll help stop the infection from climbing up your leg and give us a chance to get you back to camp.”
Jeff smiled and gently put his hand on the boy’s terrified face, wiping away a tear. His hands were smeared with blood, but most of it was gone now. Jeff had used his entire shirt to staunch the flow and wipe away the excess. His concerns about the blood-borne virus were great, but overshadowed by his fear of letting Ray bleed to death in the general store parking lot.
“Step aside, Jeff.”
The next noise Jeff heard was unmistakable: a shotgun shell being chambered. Marcus sounded calmer and less vicious than he had just a few seconds before, but still firm and determined. Jeff looked at Ray, who was panicking, and shifted his weight. Ray grabbed for him, fearful he was going to obey Marcus’s command. Splatters of Ray’s blood painted Jeff’s biceps as the youngster’s hands scrabbled at the man’s arms.
“No… no, please, God no!” The look in his eyes made it clear that Ray understood exactly what Marcus planned to do. He repeated himself, his voice getting higher and higher in pitch as he begged Jeff to do something to help him. “Please don’t let him shoot me. Please, I don’t want to die, Jeff, pleeeease!”
Jeff shushed him and whispered assurances as he wrapped the tourniquet around Ray’s injured leg, ignoring Marcus’s command.
“Jeff, I said step aside. You best start listening to me, or I swear I’ll take you out along with Ray.”
Teddy, all but forgotten in the last few moments, pushed away from George and moved toward Marcus, a look of rage tattooed across his face. “You’re not going to hurt my friend, you fucking creep. I’ll kill you first!” He clenched his fists, and before George could grab him, he took off toward the man whose slender build was similar to his own. Marcus had already set down the crate of liquor and only held the shotgun, which was pointed at Jeff’s back. Teddy built up speed when he saw that Marcus was not going to turn toward him.
As Teddy lunged, Marcus nimbly stepped backwards and kicked, sending his foot straight into Teddy’s gut. The boy collapsed like a house of cards, doubled up and wheezing. He began coughing violently.
George rushed toward Marcus. The shotgun, which had remained pointed at Jeff even as he launched his kick at Teddy, swung toward the big man. George stopped short, a look of embarrassed surprise on his face. He clenched his fists, his eyes darting between the muzzle of the shotgun and the boy who lay crumpled on the ground. He pointed at Teddy. “I just want to check on him, make sure he’s okay.” George did his best to look sincere, but his jaw twitched nervously. He looked at Teddy, who pulled his knees up underneath him and hacked up a small wad of vomit.
“You stay right where you are unless you want to join these two.” Marcus gestured toward Jeff and Ray. Jeff had finished with the tourniquet and was whispering something to the injured boy. The tears were still coming, but Ray appeared to have calmed down.
George froze in place, his hands elevated for Marcus to see. He could hear moans cascading off the buildings surrounding them, and his eyes darted toward the street. He spotted a pack of ghouls only a few blocks away. It was not clear how many there were, but their ranks were swelling as more crawled out of the shadows to join their rotting brethren. George suppressed a shiver at the sight of the monster leading the pack dragging a ruined foot behind it as it trudged forward with dogged persistence.
The shotgun swung back toward Jeff when Marcus seemed satisfied that George wouldn’t give him any more trouble. He took a step forward.
Jeff stood and could see the smile of anticipation on Marcus’s face.
“So what’s it going to be, hotshot? I’m gonna give you one last chance to realize Ray is already dead.” Marcus paused for effect. “We don’t have much time to screw around, so you better hurry up.”
The reedy man’s expression changed momentarily as he looked past Jeff toward the boy propped against the building. His voice dropped low, and his grin disappeared.
“It’s a mercy killing. Don’t you realize that? Or are you just stupid?”
“Just go. Leave him behind with me,” Jeff said, his mind already made up as to what he was going to do. It was suicide, but he was beyond caring. “Take Teddy and George back to camp, and I’ll watch over Ray.”
Marcus squinted at Jeff and looked confused for a moment. He appeared to be mulling over the offer, and Jeff’s hopes rose. They were dashed, however, when Marcus shook his head.
“Can’t leave you behind. You’ll probably dump him somewhere along the way and then lead the stiffs back to us. I can’t have that.”
“I won’t lead them back, I promise. We’ll find a place to hide out. Some building… maybe a house. I won’t lead them back. I swear to God.”
Marcus shook his head again as he raised the shotgun. “God?” he snarled. “Why the hell do you think I give a shit if you swear to God?” He moved forward another step, pushing Jeff closer to the wall. “Take a good look around, you stupid asshole. Do you really think there’s a God?” Marcus laughed contemptuously and gripped the shotgun tighter to his shoulder as he took aim. “I can’t say it’s been a pleasure knowing ya—”
“Drop the gun, Marcus.”
Jeff’s eyes, which had been closing in fear, popped back open in time to see Marcus raising his head from the sights on the shotgun. He turned, allowing Jeff to see that George had picked up Teddy’s rifle and was pointing it at the hick.
Michael’s flunky did not look surprised. He backed up, the shotgun still pointed at Jeff.
“I mean it! Drop the shotgun, now!”
As Marcus moved back a few more steps, Jeff could see George clearly. He had the other man dead to rights, the rifle pointed at Marcus’s chest. Jeff could also tell that his friend was shaking like a leaf. Apparently Marcus could see that as well.
“Now why in the world would I do something stupid like that, George?” Marcus asked, backing away from Jeff. George backed up as well, and Marcus grinned again. The shotgun dropped a few inches, but was still pointed toward Jeff.
“I said drop the shotgun. I don’t want to have to shoot you.”
A full-on belly laugh burst forth from Marcus’s gut. He leaned forward and spat on the ground and then proceeded to dig the remaining tobacco out of his mouth. After shaking away the brown residue from his finger, he turned toward George.
“You know something, George? I don’t want you to have to shoot me either.” Marcus inched closer to the big man, but George stood his ground.
“Stop moving, damn it! I will shoot you if you don’t drop the shotgun!”
Marcus stopped where he was. He had turned his back completely on Jeff and Ray and was now toe to toe with George. His hand rose in a placating gesture, but the other remained wrapped around the trigger of the shotgun. His smiled widened, and all his darkly stained teeth were on display for George to see.
“Marcus, please, I don’t want—”
“Don’t want to what?” Marcus squinted at George, waiting, as he moved the shotgun into position. “You don’t have the stones to do anything to me, George, you pathetic piece of shit.”
The big man’s eyes were glued to the shotgun, his hands quavering on the old Springfield rifle. Marcus shook his head in contempt as he took aim at George.
Jeff jumped, the explosion causing him to nearly trip over his own feet. He closed his eyes and dove to the ground. As he did, there was another explosion, much like the first. He covered his head, not sure who was shooting, but knowing for certain that he did not want to get caught in some sort of crossfire.
When the third shot came, Jeff
realized it had come from behind him. He tried to get back up, but his legs felt like jelly. He lifted his hands off his face and looked in front of him. Marcus was face down on the asphalt, blood running out of his body in tiny rivers, the result of three holes in his back. Beyond him was George, standing stock still, eyes bulging, rifle still in his hands.
Jeff rolled over and looked back at the wall of the general store. Ray had moved slightly so he could fire around Jeff with the Beretta. The barrel was smoking, and the teen looked prepared to fire another round into Marcus if he got back up. While everyone else was paying attention to Marcus and George, Ray had been busy reloading his gun.
Ray looked at Jeff and spoke quietly. “I got the bastard.”
There was bitterness in the words, and his pale lips were pulled back in a snarl. It was as if all his pain and fear had disappeared, replaced by rage.
The next sound Jeff heard was the rifle clattering to the ground. He swung back around and saw George staring at Marcus’s body. Jeff also saw that Teddy was looking on in awe at his friend. He still looked wobbly, a clenched fist held over his gut where Marcus had kicked him, but he was getting up to move toward Ray.
“George? George!” Jeff said as he climbed to his feet. “Are you okay?”
Jeff felt like slapping the other man, but George was snapping out of his daze, his eyes blinking furiously.
“I couldn’t… ” George paused, still trying to get his wits about him. He had a look of despair on his face. “God forgive me, but I couldn’t do it.”
Jeff touched his friend’s shoulder gently. “It’s okay, man. You distracted that prick long enough… ” He hesitated, not willing to finish the sentence. The sound of moaning, growing even louder, could be heard in the background. “But now it’s time to go.”
George nodded dully, a haunted look in his eyes. He reached down and ignored the rifle, picking up the bag filled with supplies from the store instead.
Jeff tightened his jaw and swallowed hard. Turning, he moved to Marcus’s cooling corpse and took a deep breath. Grabbing the dead man’s sweat-stained shirt, he rolled him over to gain access to Marcus’s front pants pockets. He ignored the man’s staring eyes and the ragged holes in his chest as he went about the task of searching for shotgun shells. He reached into a bulging pocket and pulled out several rounds for the Mossberg pump-action. Stuffing them in his pants pocket, Jeff grabbed the shotgun and looked at Ray.
Teddy was kneeling next to him, talking. Jeff walked up and gave them a few seconds before he spoke.
“We have to get out of here, guys.” They both looked up. Ray held the Beretta in his lap, as if he were too tired to lift it. Teddy looked star struck, as if Ray had become larger than life. Jeff brought his hand down on Teddy’s shoulder.
“Why don’t you go get your rifle? I need to talk to Ray for a second.” Teddy hesitated. He did not look so sure about leaving his friend, but Ray nodded, and the other boy relaxed and got up, moving toward George.
Jeff glanced down at Ray’s leg. He fought to keep the emotion off his face, but it was hard. The blood had soaked through most of the layers of shredded shirt he had wrapped around it. The bleeding might stop, but the virus was already racing through the kid’s system.
Hearing a new noise, Jeff lifted his head and noticed several shapes in the field behind the building. They were moving through the thick grass at a slow clip, but were only about a hundred yards away. He looked back down at Ray, who was pale but lucid. Ray feebly lifted his weapon, his hand flopping over on its side.
“I think you better take the gun. I don’t think I can fire too well anymore.” He held the Beretta out with a blood-drenched hand.
Jeff shook his head. “Nah, you keep it. I think you know how to handle it pretty well.” He stared at Ray, who had been trying to pull out the last clip from his pants pocket but stopped at Jeff’s response. “Besides, I have this.” He held the shotgun up next to him and smiled down at the teen.
Ray tried to return the smile, but nodded instead, the arm holding the gun dropped into his lap, his eyelids fluttering. He had no energy left to argue. Jeff worried that he was about to pass out.
“Ray?” The kid’s eyes opened again, a questioning look on his face. “You ready to go?” Jeff propped the shotgun on the wall as Ray nodded and reached for Jeff’s hand with his own. The boy’s hand was covered in blood, but Jeff didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Ray’s arm and wrapped it around his shoulder. Ray was heavy, but Jeff was able to carefully lift him to a standing position. Ray whimpered, and his head swayed, but he stayed conscious as he put his weight on his left foot and balanced himself. Jeff stood still for a few moments, half expecting the teen to collapse. When he didn’t, Jeff snatched up the shotgun and inched forward, testing Ray’s ability to move. Again, the boy seemed strong enough to handle the activity.
“Let me carry him,” George said as he moved up next to Jeff, sliding the pack off his arm.
Jeff shook his head firmly. “I’m taking him out of here.”
George began to protest, but Jeff cut him off. “I’m responsible for him, George. Get Teddy and move out.”
“Jeff, this is crazy! I’m stronger than you. Let me carry him!” George pleaded, but saw the look in Jeff’s eyes. It was clear that unless he wanted to waste precious seconds arguing, Jeff wasn’t letting Ray go. As the sounds of moaning grew louder all around them, George nodded, his shoulders slumping as he picked up the pack he had just dropped.
“Grab my bat, okay? Let the kid keep the rifle.” George looked down and spotted the bat where Jeff had dropped it. Teddy had already picked up his rifle and looked ready to move out.
The baseball bat seemed tiny in George’s oversized hands, and Jeff had to stifle a laugh.
“Get going. Get the hell out of here and head back to Michael and Frank. Ray and I are going to give you a head start.”
George and Teddy looked at Jeff simultaneously. Ray was hanging on him, looking as pale as a giant blob of rice pudding. The strips of Jeff’s shirt on his ankle were drenched with blood, and his glasses were close to falling off his nose once again. His eyes were open, but looked hazy.
Teddy was the first to step forward. He was shaking his head, but Ray spoke before he could say anything.
“Teddy, you have to go.” His voice, stronger than expected, hit his friend like a Mack truck. “You have to get back. Jeff and I will be fine. I promise.”
Teddy looked at him, the tears flowing freely down his face. “I’m so sorry, Ray. I screwed up so bad. It should have been me who got attacked, not you. It should have been me… ” He trailed off, giant sobs shaking his shoulders uncontrollably. George moved up and wrapped his arm around the boy.
“Teddy. TEDDY!” The younger boy looked up, his vision blurred as he stared at his friend. Ray looked mad and concerned for Teddy at the same time.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. You watched out for me. You did everything you could. Now you have to go, bro. Go with George and get back to the van.” The anger was gone, and the smile crept back. “Don’t worry. We’ll be right behind you.” Jeff adjusted, and Ray moved slightly higher up on his shoulder.
Teddy shrugged out of George’s grasp and moved up to Ray. He sniffled and fought back more tears as he hugged his friend gently. The bigger boy awkwardly wrapped the hand holding the pistol around his friend. They embraced for a moment, and the tears came for Ray as well, but he blinked them away furiously.
Teddy turned and moved back toward George. Neither boy spoke further.
“You don’t have to do this.” It was George this time, submitting his last-ditch plea to Jeff. “The four of us might do better together instead of splitting up.”
Jeff ignored the offer. “Go behind the buildings on this side of the street. Keep running and don’t stop. You can cut back onto the street if you see it’s clear. Just get back to Michael and to the van. Don’t wait for us.” When George heard the last sentence, his eyes widened in shock.
&n
bsp; Jeff smiled as he moved through the parking lot toward the street. “Don’t worry about Ray and me; we’ll be fine.” Then he winked.
Jeff glanced back and saw a crowd of walkers coming their way down the street before focusing on the direction in which he needed to head.
George studied the back of the building. The ghouls out in the field had closed the distance to about fifty yards, and more were strung out in a long line behind the first small group. He looked to his left and saw a clear path in the direction he and Teddy needed to go, but their window of opportunity was closing fast.
Jeff and Ray kept moving toward the street, and Jeff looked back at George one last time.
“One more thing!” he shouted over the ever-increasing cacophony of moans. “Tell Michael that Marcus was bitten and turned. Tell him I had to put him down.” Jeff paused, letting the comment sink in. “Make sure you tell him it was me who did it.” He gave George a meaningful look and then turned back toward the street with Ray in tow.
“Go! Now!”
George sighed, feeling helpless as he looked over at Teddy. All the decisions had been taken out of his hands, so the only thing left was to do as Jeff suggested. He had to get Teddy to safety.
“Are you ready?”
The boy stared at him, his thin chest heaving. After a quick glance at the grassy field, he nodded. Teddy took a deep breath and bounced on his legs, getting into the starting position for a fast run. George gripped Jeff’s bat and surveyed their position relative to the nearest ghouls, who were already too close for comfort. They took off running, leaving several dismayed and puzzled-looking infected in their wake.
Undeterred, the decaying creatures followed, their stiff frames moving them forward at a slow but persistent pace. When they lost sight of the man and boy around the corner of a building, they sniffed the air and tasted it with their tongues, seeking out the stench of sweat, blood, and flesh. They plodded forward, tracking the scent as they marched onward on their endless quest.
The Dark Trilogy 02 - Into the Dark Page 11