The Orphans Series Vol. 1: The Orphans (41 page)

             
Greg watched and mimicked his every move. He figured it best to follow his lead. He knew he didn't have the slightest clue what he was doing, and didn't want to pretend for a minute he did.

             
Frank watched Greg, pleased he looked like he knew what he was doing. He looked at his own son and watched the lazy arm not holding the pistol up and letting it hang down by his side. He whispered angrily, "Shaun remember shooting them in the foot won't kill them. Get your damn gun up! If you're looking at it, you need to have gun sights on it or it won't do you a bit of good."

             
Shaun knew he was right. He was doing his best. He knew going forward he would have to work on his listening skills so he didn't say the ten immediate comments that came to mind. Instead he lifted the pistol up and took short steps.

             
They got to the first truck which was empty. Shaun went to get in and Frank grabbed his shoulder. He pointed at his eyes then to the rear of the truck as an instruction to check the back seat and underneath it. He bent down, not seeing anything, and pointed that it was fine to enter it. He got in turned the key, and a blasting roar of horribly loud pop music came on. He fumbled clumsily, trying to turn it off and getting the vehicle back to the quiet it had when he entered it.

             
Frank swung his rifle around, keeping an eye out for movement, and, so far, there was nothing to worry about. The music he figured would surely call whatever was out there. They carefully took care of the next few cars, getting jumpier with every passing minute.

             
Frank whispered, "We're going to have to take the van slow around the bus. As long as it's not too big of a slope, then we should be all right and not worry about tipping."

             
They walked around the bus. Greg gasped at the view before them. There were no more cars here--simply bodies. There were the Turned and the meals at their mouths. The dead were rising by the second--too many to count. The crowd took only a moment to smell the fresh virgin meat.

             
Frank turned and whispered, "Run for the van. Don't wait. You two go ... now!"

             
He put the sights on the closest head he could and started firing with blindingly accurate speed, not looking to see if the boys had listened. He was dropping them one after another. Brain matter painted the highway.

             
Shaun yelled, "I'm not leaving you!"

             
Frank didn't stop shooting or turn around. Every second, another one was dead, and two more Turned rose. There would be more of the Turned than there were bullets available to shoot them. He yelled, "I'm behind you! Just run now! I'll be right behind you!"

             
Greg hauled Shaun away. "We've got to run! We don't have a choice, man!"

             
Shaun shook Greg's hand off of his arm, taking a big breath and checking the extra magazines for both pistols. He knew if they wanted to live, then at some point they would have to stand and fight. He ran back to his dad's side, taking careful aim, and squeezed the trigger as quickly and accurately as he could, wasting no bullets. Greg watched the feat of bravery and ran to the left of Frank, kneeling and taking careful aim, not wanting to waste any of his own ammo. The small trio of an army made fresh blood spray in the air. The Turned were falling at a rapid rate, but it didn't seem to be enough.

             
Frank dropped his last magazine, not rewarded with another. He looked at the boys who clicked empty as well. "We need more ammo! Let's get back! We'll fight them from the van!"

             
This time the boys listened. Frank wanted to let the boys get a head start, never expecting the Turned to have gone behind them.

             
Greg screamed, "Shaun! Help me!" He was out of ammo, dry firing.

             
Shaun yelled, "Get down now!" He stopped running and aimed quickly putting one, then two down. They were now coming from around the other side of the bus.

             
Frank stood, slinging his rifle behind his back, pulling the pistol and sprinting towards his son's gunfire. He saw a group running for them. Shaun was firing as quickly as he could, no fear showing on his young face. He couldn't have been more proud of his son at that moment.              

             
Shaun pushed Greg out of the way. A turned cheerleader was within a foot of him, mouth open. Shaun was on empty and dropping a magazine. He got to Greg, pushing him out of the way and he saw he wouldn't be able to get free of her reach himself. His young life flashed before his eyes.

             
Frank fired as she was within inches of Shaun's neck, ready to feast. The bullet raced across the small space, punching into her skull. It sent her into a spin, flying to the side and landing on the ground, going limp.

             
Shaun winced, feeling the spray of blood from the blast covering the back of his neck. He mistook the blood for a bite and flinched. He opened his eyes, staring at his dad who had just saved his life. His barrel still had the whisper of smoke coming from it. His dad stared back as Shaun raised his gun squinted his left eye closed, and snapped off a shot over his father's shoulder into one of two Turned who had been approaching.

             
The second one lunged for Frank, and Shaun fired again, slamming a round into its shoulder, but not stopping it. He landed within a foot of Frank, grabbing and pulling him off of his feet, biting into his right ankle.

             
Shaun fired at the head, going straight into it a first, second, third time--leaving nothing but a bloody stump, the skull spread everywhere.

             
Shaun felt sick looking at Frank whose grimacing expression was of pure and utter defeat. He knew no matter what he did, there would be no chance for him to survive. The look on his father's face was one that would haunt him for the rest of his days.

              Frank fought back a scream. Only Shaun had seen the bite take place. He rested, momentarily looking up at the sky, and resting his pistol on his chest. He put his ankle behind him looking at the wound, quickly wrapping a handkerchief around it while Greg and Shaun were getting up. He hoped his theory that the further from the brain he was bitten, the longer he would have. Every moment would be a blessing.

              Shaun ran to his dad who had risen to a knee. He handed him an outstretched hand with fresh tears in his eyes, helping him to his feet. They both looked back at Greg who was keeping an eye out for them, and they made their way back to the van.

             
Frank leaned on Shaun for a second. He whispered, "Keep your mouth shut about the bite, I don't want to scare anyone, and we need to get the group up to the cabin."

             
"I'm so sorry, dad. I should have--"

             
Frank stopped, grabbing Shaun by both shoulders. "I don't want you to say sorry again! I'd have been a meal by now if you and Greg hadn't stood by my side! I couldn't be more proud, there wasn't anything else you could have done!"

             
They made it back to the van, opening the door and startling the rest of the group. Ellie, for the second time, hugged Shaun. "You're all alright! It sounded like a war out there!"

             
Shaun looked at his dad who shook his head, and Shaun squeezed her back. "I'm as good as can be. There were so many of them, Ellie. Too many to count."

             
Frank pushed past them into the van, sitting down in the driver's seat and starting it up. "Hey! Get in! We need to get out of here before we have any more problems!"

             
They took it slow through the carnage and the fresh pile of bodies. All of the young faces pressed up against the windows, absorbing the slaying which had taken place. They found it hard to believe they were merely a few miles from their hometown.

             
The van's bald tires would not be able to get back out of the ditch if Frank took it off of the road too far. Shaun sat back, staring at his dad, shaking his head, thinking over the day and the fact his only parent would soon be gone and, no matter the arguments they've had this year, he'd never want another dad in his place.

****

              They pulled up to a dead end on a poorly maintained gravel road. Frank rolled the van to a stop and pulled the hood release. He got out, saying nothing, and lifted the hood. He motioned for Shaun to follow and showed him how to disconnect the battery. He handed it to him along with the van keys. "You'll need these eventually. We'll make sure the battery is with you. Things might be changing--people can change. You need to trust yourself and make sure anyone else you trust has earned it twice over. Hungry people change. Desperate people can be dangerous."

             
Shaun stared and nodded.

             
Ellie got out and came around the side. "What are you guys doing?"

             
Frank pointed to the battery. "Just making sure that if we need to leave, we have a vehicle waiting for us to leave in."

             
"So what do we do now? How do we get all this stuff up the hill?"

             
Frank looked at the hill, thinking of all the precious gear Andy had bestowed on them, and wouldn't waste any of it. "God gave us feet and motivation, and we're going to use both." He started grabbing duffle bags he'd taken, filled them with all the supplies he could fit and the young teens could carry. He issued each of them a rifle and a bag, confident if they hunted then they could get through the changing seasons none the skinnier.

             
Frank watched as the teens slowly hiked up the hill following Shaun. He pulled out a pen and a piece of paper to write a final note to his son. He followed shortly behind them, making the trip up going slowly and taking breaks as they were needed. He'd never brought this much up at one time before. He was confident he wouldn't be capable of a second trip. When he caught up to the group, he opened the cabin door to let the teens file in. He was glad for Andy and the supplies and sleeping bags. He watched the kids take in the rustic cabin, hoping they could make things work. They set their gear down and stared around, unsure what to do.

             
"We still have a lot of gear, so if you don't want to starve tonight, then Shaun and I need to get the fire stove going. You guys get going. We'll get the stove set up. Whoever carries up the bows, be careful with them please. He gave Ellie a hug before she walked out and patted Greg on the shoulder.

             
Shaun waited for them to get out of earshot, watching them awkwardly make their way down the hill. "Why aren't we helping them...? How's your ankle...?"

             
Frank walked outside, not saying anything. He walked a while, finally coming to a rest under the tall old oak trees. He leaned against one, staring at Shaun.

             
Shaun wasn't ignorant and it was becoming self-evident at what was happening. He let the tears fall--he couldn't hold them back any longer. He hugged himself, dropping to his knees. His dad handed him his pistol.

             
"Shaun, there isn't any other way."

             
Shaun looked up at his dad. The sun was setting over his shoulder. He stared at the handgun and wiped his eyes, pounding his fist on the ground covered with the leaves. "Maybe there's still time! Maybe you can fix this!"

             
Frank sat down on a moss covered stone and handed him a thick folded stack of papers. "Keep this for later and try not to judge me. There isn't enough time for it now."

             
Shaun stuffed it into his pocket. "Why can't you try? Why can't
we
try? Why give up?" He looked at his dad, noticing the blood coming from his eyes. Defeat set in with a lump in his stomach. He stood up, taking the pistol from his dad and thumbed the safety off. He bent down, resting his forehead on the top of his father's head, gripping his shoulder tight with fresh tears running down his face.

             
Frank squeezed his son's shoulder and pushed him up. Frank felt that maybe this was a justified fate for having created the drug. "Before it's too late, Shaun. Don't ever lose hope."

             
Shaun stood up straight, wiping tears again, looking down at the top of his dad's head and made the most difficult decision he ever had to make in his young life....

             
He walked back to the cabin in a daze filled with guilt and a cacophony of emotions. The others had not yet returned from their trip back to the van. He set the pistol on the counter and took only a shovel with him.

             
He dropped onto his knees next to his father. His tears dropped onto the leaves washing the blood off them. On completing his task, he recited the same prayer he remembered from his mother's service, and walked back to the empty cabin, alone.