The Road to Macon: A Zombie Novel (13 page)

Think. He need a distraction. "What the hell is that?" he demanded, looking out of the far window, acting his part beautifully. Not his best work but it would do. All three of the drunk thugs turned in unison to look through the window.

With the ease of a professional, from long practice, Kyle pulled his 9mm from his holster, and not taking aim but pointing in the direction of the man holding the shotgun on his brother, fired three shots. Kyle knew that at this distance he would hit the torso and of the three shots, at least one, would hit a vital organ. Kyle didn't watch for the result. He immediately moved his handgun to the next target, who had acted quicker than Kyle thought he would in bringing his long barreled shotgun up, and fired another three deafening shots. The man's body jerked when the bullets entered his body, then he crumpled unceremoniously to the floor.

The third thug, and leader, had fumbled his gun but now had his barrel pointed directly at Kyle when the back of his head exploded. Blood erupted from the wound, covering the corner of the room in a Poe-like scene. Kyle, who had been holding his breath unconsciously, let out a long gasp and turned to look at James, who nodded back at him.

"Judas Priest!" cried Abe, who had finally been undone by violence in front of him. He looked at the grisly scene in utter horror, then to his brother, whose hardened eyes found his own. Their eyes remained locked, and Abe felt his brother’s resolve in the matter. He felt, through the look, questions and answers both, being laid before him. It almost felt as if Kyle was asking, did he understand now? This is the world I have known and know again, a nightmare returned but one I know how to walk in. He nodded to Kyle, maybe he did understand a little now.

"I'm going to go check for Jeremiah," Abe volunteered, putting the surreal and horrifying experience behind him for the time. Just because it was necessary didn't mean that what had just happened didn't make him want to throw up. He barely made it out of the back door before his stomach couldn't hold on anymore and it emptied on the gravel. Abe tasted the vile acid as his stomach spasmed to rid itself of what was left. It slowly passed, and Abe took a minute to collect himself, then took a look around. Jeremiah was lying on the other side of the door. He was glad that he just threw up.

The poor old guy had been beaten badly. His face, which was now half caved in, was a terrible sight. His nose was completely smashed back into his head, while his left eye was missing. Abe, in a futile effort, reached down to see if he could find a pulse. None. Abe closed the old man's open eye and placed his arms over his chest. The old man had died in a horrible way. Abe was glad that they had died. He understood.

Kyle watched as Abe went out the back door and turned his head back to the three men on the ground. James was already checking them out.

"Dead?" he asked, better to make sure. Kyle was surprised that he didn't feel too bad about killing these guys. The look of horror on his brother's face had much more of an impact. He just hoped Abe would understand. This was nobody's idea of a nice world anymore.

"They’re dead," James replied calmly.

"Them boys was always going to come to a bad end, but damn Smalls you got some balls shooting them like that," Eric said, looking over the bodies. "Nearly shit myself. You had the right of it though, that boy looked like he was about to shoot."

"It was just like in the America movies," the kid blurted out. "You just shot them down."

Kyle felt annoyed at hearing it described like the OK Corral and he was a little embarrassed that he had forgotten about the kid. He looked at him, "What really happened to the old man?"

"It's like that trash said," the boy responded. "They tried to knick some things and the old man said they could have some water but needed to pay for the bullets. Then the leader hit the old man in the face with the bottom of his gun. I think it might have knocked him out or killed him, but there was blood everywhere. After that. he fell down and they took him out back."

Abe walked back in as the kid was finishing his story. "He's right. Jeremiah is dead. Half of his face was punched in?." He looked at Kyle and nodded his head. He hoped that he conveyed that he didn't judge him for what just happened. Abe wanted him to know that he was right.

He was about to keep talking when the sound of gunshots rang out from outside. Kyle immediately thought they might be some friends of these rednecks. He rushed to get to the door and had to allow the closer James and Eric to go through first.

"Looks like they followed the sound," James said, popping his magazine out of his handgun and checking it. Kyle had to agree. Coming from almost every directions were the diseased. They were spread out and not coming in a mob. They looked rough, but these didn't seem to have as much blood and gore over them as some he had seen. There weren't many of them since the store was pretty isolated, with not many houses within two miles. Kyle figured they were lucky that they weren't in a more heavily populated area.

"Patrick, Yolanda, start shooting left to right in front of you. Remember head shots," Kyle instructed. He was glad that neither one of them was in the store a few minutes ago. They had seen enough yesterday.

"Righto Boss," Patrick answered smiling. He turned to his wife and kids, "Stay behind me, this will only take a minute." Patrick's wife just frowned at him and then pulled her kids close to her side.

James had started shooting beside him when he saw Abe and the British kid hurry out of the building. The kid seemed to be stumbling a bit, which could have been because he was carrying that extremely large hiking backpack.

"Eric, start from there and work right. Abe stay beside him," Kyle said, turning around before he could see Abe give him a frown.

The shooting lasted for less than two minutes. It was controlled and disciplined shooting. “Just like the range,” Kyle thought. The all-clear was yelled by Eric, who had climbed on to the top of his truck.

"Count off," Kyle said a little harshly, he was trying to make sure everyone was here, but he wasn't thinking that clearly and wanted to make sure. He was scared and trying not to show it, but his adrenalin had him jacked up. The group counted off, using trucks again, this time with Abe speaking up for truck five.

"Patrick, are you fueled up?" Kyle asked. They had been lucky that for some reason the power was still on in this area though it kept flickering on and off.

"Yep, so is everyone else, except for you."

"I'm almost full, so it's enough.

"Kyle, there are more of the gas containers inside, we can fill those up also," Abe said

"Good. James and Yolanda could you help him get those? Also, get any guns and ammo from the store that are still there. We might as well grab anything we can use," Kyle said. "Be quick. Me and Eric will watch for more of the diseased. They must have heard that little shoot out.”

"Are they monsters?" asked the young Brit as the others moved away, getting ready to leave.

"Not monsters, just people that have gotten an infection when they get bitten, as far as I know anyway."

"You didn't see any last night?" asked Eric. He was now standing on the top of his dog box now, which put him even higher.

"I was hiking wasn't I?" said the kid.

"How the hell do I know what you were doing kid? You were the one doing it," he said. Eric wondered if this kid was hit harder on the head than they first thought.

"I just said I was didn't I? replied the kid with aggravation. He was looking up at Eric and almost lost his balance again.

Eric looked down from the truck. "Boy, I don't know if you’re messing with me or not."

"I don't know what you mean mate? I'm not messing with you," the boy answered. He seemed so earnest that Eric just gave a huff and turned back around to keep watch.

Kyle had been listening and had to smile at the conversation. He had met a few British guys in the service and sometimes their version of English seemed quite different to southern English. He did enjoy listening to the usually happy Eric become more and more frustrated in the conversation.

"What's your name?" Eric interjected.

"Edmund, from Nottingham. I have been in the states for a few months just hiking around. Yesterday, I was staying with some folks that I met online when they were called off to work, so I just started hiking through some woods. I ended up at the store.”

"Sorry you had to go through that, not exactly southern hospitality," said Kyle with little humor. He was starting to feel a little antsy about staying in one place this long. He constantly looked around the perimeter of the store, as much as he could see. Nothing, but they were vulnerable out in the open. The morning was cool and noon was approaching. He had wanted to be already on the road by now, but nothing goes according to plan. "You're welcome to come with us for now and figure out what you want to do later."

"Happy to mate, I'm lucky you yanks came along," agreed Edmund shaking his head. Kyle thought the kid bounced back quite fast considering the ordeal he had just been through.

"What the hell?" demanded Eric, again looking down from his commanding perch. "Who you calling a yankee?"

Kyle again felt amusement at the conversation being played out, but he thought he would help his friend on this one. "He means Americans. I believe some of them still call us yanks."

"Ridiculous."

Abe walked to the road with James, Yolanda, and Eric. He had stopped by his truck to grab a pair of binoculars that he had liberated from the plant. Fringe benefit.

"Looks like there are a couple of cars blocking the road about a mile up," he said, handing the binoculars to James.

"Eric, can your truck push those out of the way?" Kyle asked. Eric took a look back at his truck, which was easily the biggest. He had a thick metal grill welded onto the front.

"It can, but it's gonna destroy my winch," he said regretfully "What we need is a bigger truck to push through anything we come across"

"Like what?"

"Like an eighteen-wheeler," he stated. "And I know just where we can get one.

The group backtracked half a mile and found themselves traveling down yet another dirt lane, this one with trees and overgrown vegetation so close as to reach out and grab the trucks as they passed. All light seemed to be held at bay by the wild greenery that surrounded them. Eric, with Edmund along, was leading the pack and soon broke through to what can only be liberally called, an uncared-for yard. Broken and crashed cars, like littered water bottles, were scattered around giving it the feel of a junkyard. An old timeworn house sat at the end of the yard, looking more like a set from a b- rated horror movie than a homebody’s home.

Kyle, wondering who, if anyone, would live out here, pulled his truck up next to Eric. He jumped out of the truck to the sound of Eric's dogs, who were yelping and growling, as if they caught the scent of their prey. Kyle watched as the rest of the vehicles parked behind the two already in place, then as their drivers emerged and walked to him. Kyle, becoming frustrated and nervous at the dogs’ howling, was about to tell Eric to shut them up, when from around the back came four infected who were almost upon them.

"Get in the trucks!" Kyle screamed, watching the first one try to descend on Eric, who, despite his muscular girth, moved like a fairy to the top of his dog box. Edmund, not having walked around the side of the truck to Eric's position, jumped back in the truck and slammed the door. Kyle, with Abe standing beside him, barked at his brother to move. Abe, following Eric's example leaped to the back of the truck bed, and then climbed on top of the cab. Kyle, making sure that that everyone had made safety, was about to get inside his truck when an infected caught the back of his shirt. Terror seized Kyle just as strongly as the zombie, he turned violently to hit the aggressor when a foot came crashing down to break the hold that was upon him. Kyle, not needing any more encouragement, threw himself over the side of the truck and mounted the roof beside his brother who had saved him.

Kyle looked down to see an old woman who had been badly ravaged. Her eyes, like those he had seen before, were cloudy and white. Her blood-crusted face was distorted, as if locked into an expression from a painful death. She ran toward the truck, arms reaching up like a demon from the underworld, to reach for her prey. Kyle and Abe backed away from the edge of roof and stayed close together.

"Shoot it," demanded Abe, eyeing the former elderly woman.

"Took my gun belt off in the truck," Kyle hissed, angry at himself for such stupidity.

To his amazement Abe laughed at this, "Me too, that thing really digs in your back."

"Yeah well, we're both going to die because we wanted to be more comfortable on a drive from hell. At this, Abe apparently going delirious, laughed again.

Kyle and Abe both jerked their heads when a salvo of shots came from the back truck. Yolanda and James, taking out two of the infected with their first shots, covered each other as they moved beside Patrick's truck further up. Another shot from James left only one of the infected, who wasn't to be distracted from Kyle and Abe.

"She's pretty close to you, Professor, but I can take the shot," shouted Yolanda from top of Patrick's truck. Kyle tore his eyes from the stubborn woman in front of him.

"No, pass a gun up and I'll take care of it," he answered. He didn't want Yolanda to hit his dashboard in a close miss, they needed the trucks.

"Here comes," said Patrick from the top of his hood and threw a rifle to an unready Kyle and Abe. Kyle watched in astonishment as the rifle, in no fear of coming close to them, sailed past by at least two feet to land in front of the Tahoe with a crash. Kyle, incredulous, turned to look at Patrick but had no words.

At this feat of throwing, Yolanda barked a laugh at an embarrassed Patrick and moved beside him. Kyle walked to the back off the Tahoe, a few feet from Yolanda and caught the pistol that she lightly tossed to him. He turned and quickly placed the pistol in front of the old woman and shot her in the head. Abe, having already jumped down, ran to get Patrick's rifle.