Bob stepped from the little car and looked behind him. Car after car lined both sides of the road with no obvious wide spot to turn around and no openings for him to get out. He tried to spot another small car that he might be able to push out of the way, but even in today’s economy of horrendous gas prices, Americans still loved their SUVs and huge luxury cars. What he wouldn’t give to find a light weight machine parked out here, like a Prius or a Smart Car or…the motorcycle!
Bob strained his brain to try to remember how far back down the road it was. Surely it wasn’t that far…he remembered spotting it and wishing he could be riding it. Shortly after that, this dumbass tried to tackle the car, then he nearly ran into the roadblock. Bob looked around the area until he found a rock.
He began beating out the rear window. The only way to see would be to remove the shattered glass. Then he could try to back up the road to the bike, push it out of the way, and drive outside the line of cars.
That is, if he didn’t run into any more screaming zombies.
Mitch stared at Maggie as she spoke, the .45 in her hand flashing in his eye. His mind raced as he pictured her leveling the weapon and possibly even firing it at him. So many possible scenarios played out in his mind in the blink of an eye. Her holding them at bay until armed troops came in and secured them. Her simply shooting them where they stood and declaring her allegiance to the oath she swore. Or she could play on his own sense of allegiance and try to have him turn over his own weapon, perhaps turn sides and assist them in whatever sideways plan they had up their collective sleeve. In that brief moment that Mitch’s eyes settled on her service weapon, he recalled all the times she had acted as the handler for him and his team of misfit commandos. In that brief moment, he thought he could feel his heart breaking.
Maggie stared at him briefly before she bent down and slid her pistol across the floor to him. “I can’t be a part of whatever you’re about to do.”
Mitch was frozen in place as he watched the 1911 slide across the polished floor and settle just inches from his booted feet. He lifted his eyes to her and shook his head. “Why not? You said you were questioning all this.”
“If I assist you, it would be akin to treason,” she answered. “I’m many things, Richardson. But I’m not a traitor.”
“You’re not bound to following unlawful orders, Major. You know that,” Mitch all but begged her to join their side.
“I’m not going to stop you, Staff Sergeant,” Major Chappell replied. “I just can’t be a part of this.” She cast a glance out the window and slipped back toward the office, letting the door shield her. “Besides, it doesn’t look like he’s heading back this way. I think that squirmy captain got his hooks into him.”
“What squirmy captain?” Mitch leaned toward a window and tilted his head over to peek outside.
“The one that is wanting to do the experiments on the healthy survivors. The man gives me the creeps. He has eyes like a shark.”
“I know the type.” Mitch nodded.
“Sounds like a politician,” Hatcher added.
Maggie smirked. “Very much so. Like there’s no soul behind them.”
“Yup.” Hatcher turned to Mitch. “Definitely a politician.”
Mitch sighed and checked over his shoulder toward the rear of the building. “Y’all doing okay back there?” he asked Candy.
“We can wait as long as you need us to.” She held a child in each arm and shielded them from the front of the room.
“Then I say we maintain position and wait for the colonel to return,” Mitch said.
Hatcher stole a glance out the window again. “Might as well. We can’t dance.”
“Speak for yourself.” Mitch grinned at him. “In the meantime, see if you can find something we can use to hogtie his sorry butt with once he becomes our property. We’re going to need to keep him secure.”
The sound of duct tape being ripped from the roll snapped both of their heads toward the office. “May I suggest you tape me to a chair? Otherwise it could look suspicious when the colonel joins us.” Maggie dangled the duct tape from one hand and raised a brow at the pair.
Mitch glanced at Hatcher who simply shrugged. “She’s your friend. Go tape her up,” Hatch said. “I’ll watch the door.”
Mitch kept low as he crossed the bank of windows and came back up at the office. “Want the padded chair?” An impish grin crossed his features.
“Why not.” Maggie smiled at him. Lowering her voice, she shot him a sideways and somewhat sultry look. “I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I used to wonder what it would be like to tied up by you.”
Mitch paused and studied her a moment, then ripped off a piece of the duct tape. “Maybe you should have said something back in the day.”
“You know officers aren’t supposed to fraternize with the enlisted,” she replied, shooting him an evil grin.
“Who said anything about fraternizing? Trust me, you’d be lucky to walk once I was done with you. There wouldn’t be any fraternizing.”
Major Chappell actually blushed with that one as Mitch placed the piece of tape over her mouth, removing her ability to try to one up him. As Mitch finished taping her feet to the legs of the chair he stood up and admired his work. He smiled and rolled the chair to the corner of the office. He glanced over his shoulder and noted that nobody could see them from where they now were. He stood straighter and stared down at Maggie taped to the chair.
Lowering his voice, he smiled at her and whispered, “Yeah, I could do some serious fraternizing now and ain’t nobody could stop me, huh?” He could see her trying to smile beneath the duct tape covering her mouth. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Yeah, I don’t know exactly what’s up with you yet, but I know that this ain’t how the Maggie Chappell I once knew and respected would ever act. So, if you got some kind of secret end game you ain’t telling me about hidden up your sleeve, or maybe you’re just playing me…well, let’s just say that fraternizing will be the least of your worries.”
Mitch stepped back and studied her. He allowed her to see the hardness of his eyes before he stepped back out of the office, duct tape twirling around his finger.
As he approached the door, he nodded to Hatcher. “Anything new?”
Hatcher shook his head. “Nothing yet.” He nodded toward the trailer across the parking lot. “Pretty sure Vickers went in there with some asshole in a white chemical suit. The asshole was carrying something that looked like a ray gun prop from a bad 60s science fiction movie.”
“Something tells me that weren’t no prop,” Mitch said as he took his position on the other side of the door. Hatcher turned to him to add another smart aleck comment and noted the look of concern on the man’s face. “You don’t look so great, buddy. What’s up?”
Mitch snapped out of his deep thoughts over Maggie and shook his head. “I dunno. I’m just…something ain’t right about her.” He motioned toward Major Chappell in the office.
“What do you mean?”
“She ain’t acting herself. Like…she’s off or something.”
“Like she’s zombie infected off, or—”
“No, just…not acting right.”
“Okay. How so?” Hatcher asked.
“Like, she was all coming on to me and shit.” Mitch scratched at his head, obviously confused.
Hatcher’s eyes widened and he stared at him. “And this is a problem because—”
“Because she was my handler back in the day, that’s why.”
“I’m still not seeing the problem.” Hatch shot him a silly grin. “The girl is hotter than a three dollar pistol.”
“Exactly!” Mitch pointed at him excitedly. “My point.”
Hatcher shrugged and gave Mitch a dumb look. “You lost me somewhere.”
“The girl is just too—” Mitch’s argument was interrupted by a loud bang against the rear door, startling Candy and the kids, and causing Skeeter to yelp. Both men turned simultaneously, training their weapons on
the rear door as Candy ushered the kids farther away from the area and closer to the storeroom. “What the hell was that?”
“Beats me,” Hatcher replied. He cast another furtive glance out the window and verified the coast was clear. “Maybe a guard heard us talking?”
“They’d be storming the front doors, guns blazing,” Mitch replied.
The bang repeated, followed by a loud thump. Both men studied the door and Mitch motioned he would check it out. Hatcher stole another glance out the window, then motioned him on. Mitch sprinted to the rear of the center and pressed his ear to the door. After a moment, he pulled back and shook his head. Hatcher shrugged, and the motion was met with another loud whump against the back door.
Candy stepped forward, leaving the kids huddled against the storeroom door. “Do you think it could be one of the crazies?”
Mitch cursed lightly and nodded. “Possibly.”
Hatcher approached and shook his head. “We can’t shoot them if it is. The gunfire will attract more soldiers and we’ll lose our advantage.”
Another loud bang against the door followed by a muffled scream sent shivers up Hatcher’s spine. “We have to stop them, whoever it is.”
Mitch set his jaw and motioned to the door. “Let them in. I’ll put a stop to ’em.” He pulled the knife from his boot sheath.
“Mitch, this isn’t some unsuspecting guard…,” Hatcher began.
“And this ain’t my first rodeo with these ungodly sons of bitches. Open the door.” He narrowed his eyes and crouched.
Hatcher motioned to Candy to get back with the kids and he settled in next to the lock. Mitch got lower and prepared to take the bastard out the moment he came through the door. Hatcher turned the deadbolt and pulled the door just as the infected threw itself against it. The door flew open and the person came tumbling into the center.
Mitch sprung like a coiled snake, striking while the infected was off guard and trying to get to its feet. It had been a woman in its life beforehand, but Mitch’s knife put a quick end to her attacking the rear door. He sunk the blade deep into her skull, twisted and pulled the knife free before she even registered their presence. As Hatcher began pushing the door shut, two more infected slammed into it, beating him against the rear wall and knocking the wind from him.
The first infected came in the door with his nose in the air, sniffing. He brought his head down and his eyes fell upon Mitch, bloody knife in his hand and a feral look in his eyes. The man cocked his head to the side and studied him for just a moment, unsure what Mitch might actually be. Then he opened his mouth to form the scream that Mitch was all too familiar with. Mitch leapt forward, bringing the knife in straight to catch the man’s lower jaw and pinning his mouth shut as he thrust the knife up and through the top of his head. The infected man shook momentarily and danced the dance of death as Mitch’s knife short circuited his brain.
While Mitch held the infected man at bay and struggled not to be scratched or clawed by his vibrating limbs, the third infected bounded into the room and leapt off the body of the first dead zombie, coming up right next to Mitch. Mitch barely had time to register her presence before she grabbed his knife hand and sank her teeth into the meaty muscle of his twitching arm.
Neither of them heard the door slam and lock as Hatcher struggled to suck air into his body. He knew that some of the infected had forced their way in and knocked the crap out of him, but if there were more out there, he’d keep them out. He scrambled for his gun and could barely see to level it at the scene in front of him.
Mitch stared into the red eyes of the naked woman who had caused the death of Darren and taunted him in the woods. She pulled back from his arm with a wet ripping sound, and he felt the burning sensation of liquid fire shoot up his arm as her teeth ripped skin, meat, and sinew from his muscled forearm.
With gritted teeth, he switched hands and pulled the knife from the skull of his infected victim and slashed at the crazy bitch with his good arm. She bounced back from him as if she could read his movements and he barely left a scratch across one of her heavy breasts that gravity dragged back slower than the rest of her could move. Although his knife had carved a nice slice across her soft mammary, she never reacted other than to chew the meat in her mouth and swallow.
Mitch crouched into an attack position and the crazy, red-eyed bitch followed suit. Slowly the two circled one another. Her lashing out with her bone-tipped fingers and him slashing with his knife. Hatcher followed with the rifle, trying like hell to keep the crazy bitch in his sights.
Candy stood in front of the children, shielding them with her own body, her arms spread wide to protect them. As the crazy woman circled around, Candy shifted and Buck caught a glimpse of the fight, the filth-covered woman had her back to him and he shivered at the thought of possibly being bitten, maybe being made into one of the red-eyed zombies. Then he noticed Mitch’s arm and his eyes widened, his breath quickening.
“Oh, my God,” he whispered. Candy instinctively pressed him back, but the two warriors had circled each other again and Buck caught sight of the naked woman’s features.
Buck Jennings felt the color drain from his face as the realization struck him. His knees suddenly went weak and for a moment, his heart broke. He wanted nothing more than to run to her. No matter that he was seventeen, he was still her son, and this was his mother.
“Mom!” he choked out, and all eyes turned to the young man shielded in the corner, tears running down his face.
As the red-eyed creature turned at the unexpected noise, Mitch used the distraction to his advantage and struck. He sunk his knife deep into the temple of the crazy red-eyed naked bitch and buried it to the hilt. She immediately struck out with her arm and knocked him to the side, but the damage was done. His knife had struck home, the swelling on her brain had been relieved, her cerebral spinal fluid flowing out from the puncture, taking bits of bone and brain matter with it. The increased pressure of the CSF causing a bloody spray, much like an arterial slice to the neck as her body fell to the floor in convulsions.
Buck pushed away from Candy and ran to her side. He still kept his distance, fear of infection keeping him from trying to hold her hand or cradling her while she died. He fell to his knees and cried next to her twitching body.
Mitch sat up and shook his head. “Bitch can hit,” he muttered as he tried to crawl to his feet. Hatcher staggered to his side and helped him up.
“We need to get that arm looked at,” he said. “There’s a first aid kit in the office.”
Mitch shook his head. “Too late, man.” He turned sad eyes to his friend. “One bite, one scratch…you’re toast.”
“What?” Hatcher’s mind raced. “No. No, that can’t be right,” he said disbelievingly.
“Trust me, man. I’ve seen enough out in the woods. I know what I’m talking about.”
Hatcher shook his head as he pulled at Mitch. “No, we just need to clean the wound—”
Mitch pulled his arm away and glared at him. “Face it, man. I’m done. Stick a fork in me.” He pulled Hatcher aside. “Don’t let me turn into one of them freaks, okay?” He pulled the knife from the body on the floor and flipped it around to Hatcher, handle first. “I want you to do this. You’re the only one I trust to do it and do it right.”
Hatcher was shaking his head. “I can’t do that,” he said, his voice breaking. “I-I don’t know how.”
“It’s easy, man.” He pointed to the base of his skull. “Just slip it in here and twist. Turns the lights out. Easy peasy.” His eyes pleading.
Hatcher felt his eyes watering up and his hand shaking. “But you’re my friend…”
“And you’re my friend.”
“What if you can’t catch it? What if…what if you’re immune?” Hatcher knew he was grasping at straws, but straws were all he had left.
“Like the thousand or so other folks that were here? Don’t, man. There ain’t no miracles gonna pull my fat out of this fire.”
Hatch
er sighed hard and looked around. “Maybe you could just go outside…maybe kill a few more guards or something. They could maybe…I dunno.”
“Death by cop?” he joked. Mitch staggered a bit, then shook his head. “Wow. Is it getting hotter in here? It’s getting hot in here,” he said softly.
Hatcher shook his head. “No, not really.” He glanced at Mitch and noticed his eyes were filling up with blood. “Oh no.”
“What?” Mitch asked.
“Your eyes.” Hatcher pointed.
Mitch shook his head lightly and paused. “Oh, don’t do that. My head is killing me.” He glanced at Hatcher again. “Oh, shit. This thing is fast.” He glanced around the room and his eyes settled on Candy. “Sorry,. I was really wanting to ask you on a date when all this shit was over. Looks like that ain’t gonna happen now.” She covered her mouth and turned away from him, her eyes watering.
“Mitch, I don’t know if I can do this,” Hatcher said softly. Candy’s sobbing could be heard behind them, Buck’s beside them.
Mitch was starting to get wobbly, but he fought to maintain his presence of mind. “Do it. Do it now.” He lowered himself to his knees and turned his back to Hatcher. With his thick, meaty finger, he pointed to the part of the skull on the back of his head. “Put the tip here. Push hard, then twist. That’s it.”
Hatcher lifted the knife to his friend’s head. He placed the tip where his finger was. It felt so heavy in his hand. So damned heavy. He didn’t know if he could continue to hold the cold steel as he pressed the tip to his flesh. “Here?” It sounded as if his voice was a hundred miles away.
“Yeah. That’s the spot,” Mitch said with a sigh. “Now just push really hard, and when it’s in, twist. And remember. I begged you to do this. I don’t want to be one of them.”
Hatcher nodded. “I love you, man,” he said softly.
“Love you too, ma—” Mitch never finished his sentence as Hatcher’s arms jerked forward, thrusting the knife into his friend’s skull. Without even thinking, his wrists twisted as soon as the handle hit bone.
Caldera Book 2: Out Of The Fire Page 14