“It’ll have to.” He answers evasively.
We fall silent again for a few miles until my eyes catch something on the road.
“What is that?” I ask, pointing forward.
Martin slows the RV down as we get closer.
“Jesus.” I hiss.
“I bet the same guys that attacked us did that,” Martin says between clenched teeth.
He drives a little further before stopping, and we hop out, guns drawn. By the side of the road is an assortment of eleven vehicles—a mix of trucks, cars, and RVs, just like our convoy.
The bodies of more than twenty dead men and children lie on the other side of the road. All killed execution-style. A single gunshot to the head. All lined up neatly in a row.
“How long ago do you think this happened?” I ask Martin, who shakes his head.
It’s Doctor Paton, who has silently stepped next to me, who answers. “About forty-eight hours ago.”
“You were right; I’m sorry.” I look up in surprise at Joe, who has joined our group, tears running down his face.
“Shooting those bastards in the head was way too good for them.” Professor Dunn states, and Joe nods vigorously, wiping at his tears surreptitiously.
“Shit, guys.” Ace yells, he has walked a little further towards the other side of the vehicles. I watch Drew break into a run and throw up on the other side.
“This can’t be good,” I say quietly.
“Stay back.” Martin puts his arm out to stop me, but I move forward stubbornly. I need to see. I need to. And then I wish I didn’t.
Horror and revolt wash over me and cold sweat breaks out all over my body at the thought that this is what would have happened to our girls and women. Maybe even me, if we hadn’t been out scouting. It’s all I can do to keep my breakfast down.
The mangled bodies of the caravan’s female population lie in front of us. Spread out all around us. All naked, all dead. All with the same expressions of horror and pain on their faces. I turn; I don’t want this image frozen in my head for all eternity.
“Oh, my God,” Astrid whispers next to me.
More people start to gather, and exclamations of horror and denial break the silence. A rat darts out from underneath a girl’s body, and without hesitation, I aim and shoot it. For a moment, everybody falls silent before talking again.
“We need to bury them.” Maggie’s mom, Shannon, whispers.
“Sweet Jesus,” my aunt Corinne whispers. I give her a short hug. I’m glad she is with us, even if she keeps making a point of staying away from Martin, whom she hates.
A faint noise penetrates my consciousness, but the people around me are so loud that I can’t place it. “Shut up,” I yell.
Outraged looks are thrown at me for my outburst, but for a few seconds, everybody does shut up before they continue. This time I yell louder. “Everybody. Shut. Up.”
And in the ensuing silence, I hear it again, faint, but more distinguishable. “A baby.” I cry and start in the direction of the noise.
Colin and Martin are right by my side, giving me the space to navigate around the dead bodies and gore. Leftover campfires, empty bottles of beer, and harder alcohol litter the ground, as well as cigarette butts, small tin foils holding residues of white powder; tell us more about the party from hell that happened here. Most of the women’s throats are slit, but some are also mutilated and seem to have been stabbed to death—my whole body and mind reel from the horror and deprivation these women and girls had to live through during their last hours on Earth.
The crying gets louder as I reach a minivan. The doors are open, and I find a naked, blood-covered woman sitting in one of the bench seats. Hope flutters through my chest.
“Ma’am,” I yell out before I reach her.
The wailing increases and my eyes fall on a small bundle by her feet. The baby is not older than three months, covered in blood and grime; eyes open wide as it screams the unfairness of life at me.
We are too late for the woman; her eyes are sightless on her baby. Her body is riddled with multiple stab wounds, but at least the baby is still alive. Carefully I lift the child off the floor, his mother’s blood stains his little pajamas, but he seems unharmed.
“He must be hungry.” A voice next to me startles me. It’s Doctor Paton. He looks at the woman. “She probably died just a few hours ago. Looks like she dragged herself over here, half-dead, to care for her baby.”
Tears prickly in my eyes as I hold the warm baby against my chest.
“Give me. Please. Let me take the baby.” A woman I recognize as Anita, Brigham’s widow, steps forward. Arms outstretched. There is such desperation in her eyes that I don’t hesitate to hand the baby over to her.
She presses the boy against her chest and closes her eyes before looking at me and mouthing a silent, “thank you.”
I give her a tight smile before diving deeper into the minivan. Hopefully, the baby will distract her from the loss of her husband.
After a few minutes of rummaging through the van, I find what I’m looking for, a small suitcase and a diaper bag. Next to them is a purse; I deliberate shortly and snatch it too. Hopefully, the woman’s wallet or phone or some personal belongings will be in there for her baby to keep.
Something glitters on her finger, her engagement ring and wedding band; closing my eyes, I begin to twist, but the blood has them stuck to her digit.
“Here, let me,” comes Colin’s surprisingly warm voice from next to me. I step aside, and he uses water to get her rings, finally unstuck. He also manages to get her necklace and earrings off. They are no replacements for the mom the baby lost, but at least he will be able to hang on to something of hers.
Not much later, I find Anita and the baby in her small camper. He has been cleaned and is wrapped in a towel. I hand the suitcase and diaper bag over to her.
“We’ll find more for him when we stop later,” I promise.
She nods gratefully. Just as I’m about to leave the camper, she calls out, “Vivian.”
I turn and look at her. Her face is a mask of pain. “Thank you for what you did yesterday. I want you to know that you and the others did the right thing.”
I give her a tight nod. There was never a doubt in my mind that we did the right thing, but after this massacre, there won’t be any mercy given, ever, not from me and not from the others if we run into another similar situation.
It’s a cruel new world now; there’s no room for mercy to the wrong people. None.
I step outside to help the others, piling the bodies of the dead into a pile. We don’t have the time or resources to dig so many graves or even one mass grave.
With mixed emotions, I watch some of our group scavenge through the dead’s belongings; I flinch, but realize there is no other choice. Most things of any value, like food and water, are probably already gone, taken by the murderous gang, but a few items remain.
The RV’s and campers are added to our convoy; several of our group lost their transportation and belongings when they were lured into the field of flowers a couple of days ago. For them, this is an unexpected windfall; although I’m sure they would have rather kept sharing with their friends if it had meant life for the people who died so brutally and senselessly here.
Others siphon gas from the vehicles we won’t be taking. Some of that gas is poured over the piled-up bodies to be burned. It’s all we can do for them. None of us want to leave the dead to the scavengers. These people did not deserve this fate, and they most certainly deserve better than a fire for their bodies in a mass pile, but it’s all we can give them.
Solemnly, our group gathers before Martin lights the fire. Professor Dunn says a few words, and the little baby cries, as if he knows, bringing tears to my eyes.
Finally, our duties done, we are back on the road. This time I just lie down on my chair/bed, not expecting to sleep, but suddenly exhausted, I close my eyes. I only want to escape this world for a little while. To my surprise, I fall asle
ep even before Martin starts the humongous beast and takes it back on the road towards Seattle.
Chapter 36
I only wake when Colin shakes my shoulders. “Wakey, wakey princess, time to do some reconnaissance.”
I sit up and stare at his devilishly smiling face. My eyes go to the wet towel in his hand, and I’m off the chair/bed without giving him the satisfaction to use it. He looks a little disappointed as he discards it.
“What are we doing?” I ask, stretching.
The RV turns a corner and slows down. A quick peek through the huge front window shows me that we drove into one of those gigantic traveler gas stations.
“We need gas, but first we need to check and make sure the coast is clear.” Colin informs me, while he uses his phone’s conference call feature: “Team Clean Sweep, ready to disembark.” His eyes gleam with amusement, and I roll mine.
“Ladies first.” He makes a grand hand gesture just as the RV comes to a complete halt and the doors open. I reach for my rifle and gun on the way down. Slinging the rifle over my back, I grab the Glock with both hands while looking around.
Colin, losing patience waiting for me, hops out in total disregard of the stairs, and Blake does the same. They both land stealthily and quietly, and I roll my eyes again: “Show offs.” I grin.
“Always got to use a challenge, no matter how small, clumsy.” Colin can’t help himself to antagonize me.
I give him a look and grind my teeth. His stupid nicknames for me are beyond annoying. Adam and Ben follow the old-fashioned way like me, and I’m glad I’m not the only one who prefers the steps.
Martin stays in the RV ready to flee or gas up, whichever comes first, I guess, but we all need gas desperately. Especially the RVs eat gas like nothing, and the little canisters we had for refills are barely a drop into an endless well. But it’s an awesome way to travel, we could probably invite some more people to make it more economical, but honestly, I’m happy with our group. I’m not really in the mood to share my meager bed, even if it doesn’t get much use.
We wait for the rest of our squad to get out of their vehicles and join us. After a quick headcount, I’m impressed to see our little team has grown to fifty-six people. Even though Jose is still out, and we lost Eric, we are still growing in numbers, or maybe because of it. I wonder if, after today’s earlier encounter, more people will join up. Several of the adults look capable.
“Keep your eyes and ears open,” Colin instructs. “Split up, half with me to the right, the others with Blake to the left.”
Since I’m on Colin’s side already, it’s easier to stick with him, even though I would rather go with Blake. Colin gives me a look telling me he knows what I’m thinking; the desire to stick my tongue out at him is great, but I refrain from doing so; I’m more grown-up than that.
The colossal gas station seems eerily deserted. To the east is a small strip mall and to the west houses, a noise makes me turn; I hold my gun straight out, but it’s only a raccoon scavenging through the trash.
“Let’s see if we can turn the electricity on or if this thing has a generator,” Colin declares, pointing at the retail part of the gas station.
“You guys check the back.” He points to half of our group, and we disperse.
I follow Colin and the others to the entry. The doors are locked, as we expected, but they are glass. A couple of hits with Colin’s rifle and they break, creating a loud splintering noise that echoes around the empty space.
“Be on guard.” He advises as he enters, gun raised.
We all copy him. Ace and Ty work together as always, having each other’s backs as they enter. Ace’s dark face is even darker in places from where he was struck by the rifle’s butt. He doesn’t seem worse for the wear, though, and gives me a wink before concentrating on our mission.
At a noise to my left, we all turn in unison; with a hissing sound, four maniacs are on us. I raise my gun but hesitate; all I see is Ben’s face. How can I shoot these people? Within seconds I make up my mind and fire at the closest maniac’s leg, I don’t want to kill him, but maybe there is another way to stop him? Instead of going straight down, though, he turns and falls on Colin, shooting at somebody I can’t see behind a display case. Colin and the maniac go down.
I grab my knife and the maniac by the hair, pulling his head back and slitting his throat before his teeth do damage to Colin. Blood spurts out and bathes Colin, who kicks the dead man off him. His eyes are furious as they meet mine. “Viv, what the hell?”
“I’m sorry.”
“You are a better shot than that. What the fuck was that?” He screams at me.
I swallow. “I’m sorry.”
“You are the last person I thought to show scruples. Why didn’t you kill him?”
“I just couldn’t. I thought of Ben, and I couldn’t.” I apologize.
He looks at me, uncomprehending. So I explain. “Gangsters? Yes, I have no mercy for those scumbags. They made their choice to attack us, and they would have killed us, but the maniacs? Their choices were taken away; they don’t have one. They are forced to attack us. They can’t help it, and what’s worse, we know how to help them.”
Colin’s entire body seems to vibrate, and his voice appears barely controlled, not to yell at me. “So help me God, princess, every time I think you can actually use that head of yours, you do something stupid.”
Tears well up, I barely manage to swallow them down. “I’m sorry, okay?” I yell back. “What else do you want me to say?”
Others stopped after clearing the store and watch us now curiously. I’m mortified to have messed up. Colin’s eyes are still ice cold as they stare down at me, so is his voice: “Don’t do anything like this again, ever.”
I swallow and nod: “I swear.”
Gunshots from outside save him from answering as we all turn leave the store running. Blake’s group is in danger of getting overrun by what is easily a hundred maniacs coming straight at them. The rat-tat-tat of the machine guns we liberated yesterday from the bandits is loud and continuous.
“Let’s go!” Colin shouts, before grabbing me by the arm, his eyes fierce and commanding. “And you better shoot to kill marshmallow, or so help me God; I’ll put you on laundry duty until the end of times.”
I nod before I say something I’m sure I’ll regret.
We get into formation, and I aim and fire. The woman I targeted is hit in the chest and thrown back by the impact. I’m sorry, I think, but there is no time to dwell on it, as we are being threatened to be overrun by so many maniacs.
They come at us like a wave. The more we kill, the more appear from seemingly out of nowhere. The ARs make a good dent into their line, but they still keep coming, and their shier mass is gaining on us. Within seconds we’re down to fighting with knives and handguns. The attackers are too close to use our rifles for anything other than batting practice. The dent we were able to make into their group helped decimate their numbers, but I hope fervently that there aren’t anymore.
I slash at a man with my knife while kicking out at him. He is flung back a few steps. This would be the moment to shoot him. Instead, I stare at his face; his bloodshot eyes remind me of Ben’s. The hand holding my gun rises up, and again I hesitate. But before I have a chance to think twice about it, his head explodes, showering me with blood and all kinds of gore.
There isn’t any time to find out who shot him, but I realize I need to get my act together if I don’t want to die here today or watch one of my friends killed because I hesitate. I take a deep breath and shut my emotions off. I only concentrate on the battle. Everything is happening so fast that I don’t even have time to be afraid. Automatically, my left arm shoots forward to stab a woman in the back who is about to attack Cory.
Something, maybe a breath or instinct, tells me to turn, just before a large, wicked-looking blade stabs me in the neck. As it is, it still grazes me on the shoulder—hot pain sears through my body. I manage a hard kick, and it sends the maniac
flying. With my right hand, I shoot him in the head before he has a chance to get back up.
Two maniacs pin down Richard; he screams in anguish and panic. It takes me three steps to get to his side. I lunge and stab the first maniac in the neck, kicking him off the boy, before shooting the other in the chest.
I reach out towards Richard, trying to help him up. The boy is shaking like a leaf and holding his right hand to his left arm, where blood is flowing out between his fingers.
“You alright?” I want to know.
His eyes are wild with fear, staring behind me. Something plunges into me. The impact throws me down, and instantly the heavy-set man who attacked me is on top of me. His hands reach for my throat, and his mouth is getting closer and closer to my face. His rotten, stinking breath hits me full force, rising bile up from my stomach. I throw my head forward, butting him in the chin, throwing him far enough to the side so that I’m able to bring my arm around and to punch him hard in the temple.
I only hurt my knuckles though, the man is still on top of me, squirming and pushing the wind out of me. The maniacs feel no pain, or if they do, they ignore it successfully. I didn’t have enough power behind my punch to move him away from me. My feet try to gain purchase against him, but they are stuck underneath his massive body. I can’t manage to summon enough of the strengths needed to push him off me.
Suddenly the weight pushing me down is gone, as Blake flings my attacker to the side. Blake follows up with a stab to the chest and tosses the man to the ground. With a grin, he helps me up.
“Richard?” I ask.
He points at Drew, who is fighting to take his brother out of the melee. Ty and Caren are by his side. I aim at a maniac, sneaking up on Colin, wielding a hatchet, pulling the trigger; I hope to make up for my faux pas from earlier.
Colin doesn’t acknowledge my help; instead, he shoots two maniacs in quick succession, who tried to make a go for Adam. I look around; it seems as if the majority of our attackers are down. A woman, holding on to a car for balance, makes her way limping towards Ty and Ace, who take her out without hesitation. Another maniac comes screaming at Blake and me with a tire iron. He shoots her before she even comes close. The maniacs start to thin out, and after a few minutes, it’s all over.
The Rain | Part 1 | The Beginning Page 30