Hamsikker 2 (24 page)

Javier pulled Jonas up by his collar, and punched him again, this time knocking him out. He then strode over to Dakota who was curled up in a ball, whimpering. He kicked her in the stomach, and Dakota cried out, clutching her stomach. Javier swiftly kicked her in the back of the head, and the cries stopped as she passed out.

Javier quickly ran to the van and jumped in. He pointed the gun at Quinn, and grinned. “What? I told you I wouldn’t shoot them. Now drive.”

Quinn’s heart raced, but she knew she had no choice. There was a chance Dakota or Jonas would wake, but deep down she knew it wasn’t likely. Javier had left them to die, and she was doing the same. As she turned the van around, she thought about Roger, about how he had killed her parents. She blamed herself for that sorry mess, and she felt the same pangs of guilt as she drove away. With Javier pointing the gun at her as she drove, she didn’t feel like she had much choice though. At least if she was alive, she could help Erik and Freya.

“Javier, don’t make me leave them.” Quinn hated leaving Dakota and Hamsikker to die like that. “Please,” she said through gritted teeth.

Javier pressed the muzzle of the gun up against Quinn’s cheek. “You want to join them? Get us the fuck out of here.”

A tear raced down Quinn’s cheek as she drove away. It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Had she done all she could? Her mind raced to think of something else she could do, but she drew a blank. It was over. Javier had proved he would willfully shoot them all given half a chance. It was killing her that she was leaving Hamsikker and Dakota behind, but what option did she have?

“Degenerate,” she said, not caring if Javier heard her. She didn’t know what Javier had planned for them now, but was quite sure it wasn’t pleasant, and probably didn’t involve them being alive for too long.

Javier watched the deserted train tracks recede behind them, and the Illinois River faded from view. Dakota and Hamsikker were lying where he left them, cloaked in dust and blood. The dead were close, and it would only be a matter of minutes before they were torn limb from limb. He stifled a laugh, wishing he could be there to watch it, but Quinn was right. They had to get moving. He turned to face Erik. The man was clutching his daughter closely, his eyes closed. Freya held onto her father but looked back at Javier.

“Buckle up, girl, we’re in for a long ride,” said Javier, before instructing Quinn to get them back onto the Interstate headed north.

It was important to keep the girl safe and well. As long as she was alive, Quinn and Erik would do whatever he asked to protect her. She was his little star now that Rose had gone, and he was going to make sure she stayed alive. Rose was gone, that was true, but it was just a hitch. Not everything went to plan, and the truth was he had been running out of patience with her. The way she had taken out Peter was reckless. If their cover had been blown back then, well, they were still outnumbered and outgunned, and who knows who would be sitting behind the wheel of the van? It was for the best.

At some point on their road trip, Quinn was going to have a little accident. He didn’t intend to take a back seat in this new relationship. She and Erik would come in useful during the trip north, but when they crossed the border, they were history. He had no use for a young girl and even less use for a cop. Once they arrived at Thunder Bay, he could find Diego, and they would be brothers once more. Diego might be running with a crew to stay alive, so Javier knew he might have to change to fit in with his brother’s group. Bringing a little girl with him, well, that would just be weird. He’d have to take care of that once they crossed into Canada. Alone again, he would be free. Free of burden, of looking out for this pathetic group of losers, of feeding and watering the parasites that clung to him like leeches, desperate for attention and someone to hold their hand while the world got fucked.

In the distance he saw a fence panel give way, and a plethora of zombies ran through it onto a field that bordered the road. They churned up the grass and ran straight for van, but they wouldn’t make it. The road was reasonably clear, and Quinn had her foot down. They were making good progress. He leant his head against the window, and the soothing vibration passed through his head to his bones. His life was taking a new direction now. Javier was back in control, and soon he would be reunited with Diego. He swore he would keep his promise to look in on Janey though. One Hamsikker in the world was too many, and if there was any chance she was still alive, he would make sure she ended up the same way as her brother. It would be good to get payback for Rose.

“Javier, just where are we going?” asked Quinn. “Don’t you think we should…?”

“Shut it, Quinn. You know where we’re going. Keep heading north until we reach the border. I’m going to find my brother, and you are going to help me. Thunder Bay is a long way off, but we’ll get there.” Javier turned around to face Freya again.

“Won’t we, sweetheart?”

Freya looked down at the keychain in her hand, noticing the green and yellow paint had become scratched. She was supposed to keep it safe for Uncle Hamsikker. He’d told her he needed her to keep it safe for him while he fought off the monsters. Opening up her small hand, she let it drop to the floor. It bounced off her shoe and landed in a pool of dried blood. Uncle Hamsikker was gone now, just like Peter and Mom. None of them were coming back. There was no point in holding onto the keychain anymore. The funny man sat next to Quinn was scary. He had saved her in the dark hotel, but she decided he wasn’t very nice, not after what he had just done to Mommy.

Freya snuggled up to her father and said nothing. She stared out of the window, wishing she could go home, wishing she could play with Peter again, and wishing that her Mom was there to give her a kiss and a cuddle. Freya knew in her heart that none of those things were going to happen. The funny man had changed everything. She wished he was dead. When they stopped, she was going to make everything all right again and kill him. Daddy had told her never to hurt anyone, but this man wasn’t nice. She knew that it was okay to hurt people now. It was okay to kill people. So she would. She looked out of the window at the dust cloud they created as they drove, and she felt beneath her seat.

“Next stop, Thunder Bay,” said Javier.

Freya’s fingers touched the tip of the hammer that her Daddy had left there. She’d kill the funny man just as soon as they stopped.

EPILOGUE

The Illinois River churned slowly around Du Pue, its dark frigid water like a lazy snake curling its way around the land. Occasionally a fish would bob to the surface, or a dead body would slip beneath the water, dragged under by the current. From the banks and the trees, the birds kept a fearful distance, uncertain of the strange behavior of the people in the neighboring towns. They were not so much ghost towns, as dead towns. Scraps of food were hard to find, yet the air was clearer, and there was a proliferation of flies that kept the Cormorants’ bellies full.

A flock of Canadian Geese flapped their large wings and settled beyond the disused train tracks. Their black eyes observed the zombie crowd from a distance, safe in the knowledge they were not the target of the mob. The recent activity had drawn their curiosity, but they were no more concerned with what was happening in Du Pue than they were the rest of America.

Pippa’s body stirred, and her fingers clawed at the ground, gouging out furrowed lines and leaving her fingernails thick was dirt. Her arms moved next, the muscles throbbing and pulsing until finally her legs began to twist and turn, and her feet found traction on the stony ground. Slowly, her body pushed itself into an upright position. The cold, hard bullets in her body were still there, and her eyes were glazed over. Pippa turned on her feet unsteadily and grunted. There were more like her, close, but they held no interest. She didn’t think anymore, didn’t try to rationalize where she was or contemplate her existence. There were no thoughts in her head, just basic impulses driving her body forward, the same as a headless chicken will run around long after it should’ve died.

Just as the van roared away, Pippa had died. The noise was intriguing, but of far more interest were the two bodies lying on the hot ground close to her. They weren’t moving, but they weren’t like her. They were breathing. Spurred on by the knowledge the living were at hand, Pippa put one foot in front of the other, and soon found herself standing over one of the bodies. There was so much blood. It covered the man’s face and arms, and the breaths coming from his mouth were long and labored. Pippa sank to her knees and reached out for the man. She could feel the warm body beneath her cold hands, and opened her mouth, ready to take the first succulent bite. She lowered her head down to the man’s, his warm breath ghosting across her face, and she prepared to sink her teeth into his neck.

Suddenly a gunshot rang out, and Pippa’s head exploded. Her blood showered Jonas, but he didn’t move, even when Pippa’s lifeless body fell on top of him. The top of her skull lay on the ground, and her brains leaked from her head like yolk oozing from a cracked egg.

A murmur came from Dakota. Her eyelids twitched open, and she drew in a quick breath before succumbing to a coughing fit.

Another gunshot rang out, and a runner fell. The leading zombies had almost reached them, and the pack of dead was close.

Dakota murmured again. “J…Jonas?” She rubbed the back of her head and found a lump that was too tender to touch. Quickly she withdrew her fingers, and immediately the pain in her belly blossomed into a white-hot pain.

Another gunshot rang out, and another zombie fell down dead only feet away.

“Give me your hand, little lady. I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

Dakota offered up a hand and felt blinding pain soar through her body as she tried to stand. Collapsing to the ground, she tried to speak, but her dry mouth was full of grit. She winced as she was suddenly lifted into the air. Hands swept under her, and she became aware of lots of hair beneath her. There was a snorting noise accompanied by heavy breathing, and she patted her fingers against the rump of a horse. God, what had happened? Where was Jonas?

More gunshots.

“Get outta here,” yelled the voice that had spoken to her a moment ago. She didn’t recognize it, but whoever it was seemed to be helping her. She slumped over the horse, and fell into a state of semi-consciousness.

Through the sunlight Hamsikker saw a hand reaching down to him. Either Javier had come back to finish the job off, or he was about to be devoured by the dead. Pain had no meaning anymore. His head felt like it was twice the size it was supposed to be, and he wasn’t sure where he was. Maybe he was already dead, and this was Hell.

The hand was rapidly joined by another, and he felt himself being hauled through the dusty street, out of the sunlight and into the shade. His left eye was swollen shut, and blood had dried over the other, making it difficult to see properly. Arms reached under him, and then abruptly he was lifted up into the air. He felt himself being lowered over a man’s broad shoulders.

“Erik?”

Jonas couldn’t imagine how Erik had gotten away, but the person carrying him now was definitely a man. Jonas tried to look at whoever was carrying him, but he didn’t have the strength to lift his head. He heard boots scuffing across the ground, and then they paused. The ground was speckled with blood. Jonas tried to focus, tried to pick out something he recognized, but as he turned his head all he saw was Rose’s dead eyes looking back at him. There was a gunshot close by, evidently fired by the man who now carried him.

“Damn zombies,” said the man carrying Jonas.

Jonas found himself being lifted higher, and then he was lowered down onto something soft. The surface was warm, moving, and it felt like he was on a horse. How the hell did Erik get a horse?

Jonas reached out a hand, and he felt a body lying next to him. A woman: a living, breathing, woman. Jonas rolled his eyes painfully around his head and saw who he was lying next to: Dakota.

She was alive.

Jonas felt the world spinning away from him again and knew he was about to black out. He wasn’t sure which part of him hurt the most, and as he laid there with surging pain racing from his broken bones to his brain, he passed out.

“Easy, brother.”

A grizzled, tanned face, weathered by time and sun with creases around the eyes, looked out at the throng of zombies. There was no way forward through them. Ammo was strictly in limited supply these days, and he had done enough. He knew when it was time to attack and when to retreat.

“Hup,” the man said, and his horse responded to his instructions, taking them away from the carnage. The man spat out a flavorless piece of used gum and began at a canter away from Du Pue. As they rode, he talked out loud. He didn’t know if his two new companions would hear him or not. Some of the words may sink in, and some may go straight over their heads, but the man was used to talking to himself, and it comforted him as much as it did his horse.

“You’ve been tucked away in your houses and your homes, away from the real world. Things have changed. This country is what you want it to be, what you make it. I’m making it better. You two got lucky today. Real lucky. Time was I would’ve passed by. Time was any man would’ve passed you by. You should be banged to rights, dead on your feet like all those other poor saps. I’m guessing you two folks are married, but it ain’t really none of my business. I’m just going to get you back on the mend. Can’t do much for you other than give you some shelter, some clean water, and see how you fare. When you pull through,
if
you pull through, I’ll set you on the road again. That’s the way it is now. No point cussing and fighting about it.”

The man felt a hand touch on his thigh.

“Please.” Jonas hoped that Dakota wasn’t suffering as much as he was. His whole body ached, and he felt like sleeping for a week. This man, though, this strange man who talked to himself was a mystery. It wasn’t Erik, that much was for sure. Not that there was much he could do about it, but Jonas wanted to make sure they weren't being dragged from one place simply to die in another. He forced his head up, just enough to catch a look at the stranger who had plucked him and Dakota from the ground. The man wore a brown coat or cape of some sort, and Jonas caught a glimpse of a bright purple shirt poking over the collar. The face looking back at him was old but kind. Short white hair sat atop a dark face, and the man’s skin was leathery and wrinkled. “Please.” Jonas saw the man smile. “Who are you?”

The man seemed to consider his response, as if worried the wrong words might cause offense. “Well, I’m glad you’re still alive, son. I was beginning to think I’d picked up two stiffs.”

Jonas lowered his head, unable to keep it up anymore. The splashes of sunlight that filtered through his aching eyes burned his retina, and he just needed to sleep. He wanted to sleep for such a long time.

“The name’s Bishop. Nothing else, before you ask, just Bishop. I ain’t a man of the cloth, neither. I got my own way.”

Bishop patted his side, and Jonas caught a flash of light strike against metal there. A small gun protruded from the stranger’s belt, but there was something else. It looked like the man carried some serious protection, something more than just a gun. The shiny metal object was long, silvery, and sheathed in something long. The handle was cross-shaped and adorned with small black crosses. Jonas recognized it was a sword, and just before he passed out again, he wondered what kind of a cowboy carried a sword.

“I sure hope you make it,” said Bishop. “You seem like good folk to me.” He steered his horse home, contemplating what he might have to do before the sun disappeared behind the mountains for the night. “Still,” Bishop said patting his sword, “if you don’t, I got ways of dealing with that.”

THE END

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