The Wild Ones (Book 2) Page 11

  “I’m not going anywhere without my brother,” I replied without even looking. I was focused on the commotion farther down the street.

  “Yeah, well you are going to need to get over that.”

  “Pass me the binoculars.”

  He spun around. “What?”

  I wiggled my fingers indicating I wanted them. He handed them over and I brought them up to my eyes, adjusted them and took in the sight of what was going on.

  “Well if they have got Daniels, it didn’t happen without a loss of life. They are carrying back their dead.” I paused. “Idiots! They won’t stay that way for long.”

  “Perhaps they stabbed them in the head. Look, I hate to rush you, Scotty, but we are on our own now, out in the open, there are Zs roaming and we need to obtain a vehicle ASAP. It’s time to leave this shit show behind, mate.”

  I got up from my knees and handed the binoculars back. “I just told you. I’m not going. You want to leave, go. But until I know he’s dead, until I see him with my own eyes, I’m not abandoning my brother. And I can guarantee if that was us in there, he wouldn’t either.”

  “Um. Yeah,” Ryland said cracking a thin smile and shifting his weight from one foot to the next. “I love your confidence in the face of a complete fucking disaster but even if we could help them, how the hell do you expect us to? There are two of us and close to twenty of them.”

  “No. We shot two, the Zs got some. And from what I just saw, I’m betting there isn’t more than ten of them remaining.”

  “Oh really? Well that just makes all the difference in the world,” he said sarcastically. “Well let’s go, we’ll have this wrapped up in the next fifteen minutes and be on our way.” He stopped and stared intently at me, tapping his finger against the side of his temple. “Wake up, Scotty. We are outnumbered!”

  “Are we?”

  Ryland palmed his forehead. “I’m done talking.” He slumped down and pulled out a cigarette. That was always his answer for a stressful situation, and yet it didn’t solve it.

  “No, listen to me. Not everyone is dead in this town. At least I don’t think so. We just need to find some help.”

  “Find some help?” He blew out smoke through his nostrils. “Find some help?” He repeated himself while placing his head against his hand. “Oh God,” he muttered.

  He was right, I was reaching. Desperation had kicked in. We were way out of our depth. I slumped down beside him and sat there shaking my head unable to believe we had made it this far only to fall here.

  My mind circled through ideas. I sighed. “Look, don’t shoot down this idea but what if…”

  “No, Scotty.”

  “Hear me out.”

  “I know what you’re going to say. I’m not going searching for the living or rallying up the dead. It’s over.”

  “What is the one thing those people want?”

  “Uh, revenge? Our head on a stick? To stomp our faces in?”

  “The cure.”

  “What?”

  “The cure. Yeah, they’re angry right now, and yep there is a chance if we walked in there and told them there was a cure they would shoot us, but if we gave them a reason not to?”

  “And how do you propose we do that?”

  “Tell them about the doctor.”

  He laughed. “Oh great, there was you not wanting to hand over Finn, and now you want to throw the doc under the bus?”

  “They won’t kill her. She knows too much.”

  He turned to me and squeezed my leg. “Scotty. Oh Scotty my boy, you really have been sucking down the retard juice for far too long. They might not kill her but they will certainly kill us. We are of no use to them.”

  “You are right, we aren’t. But they don’t know that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We go in there unarmed and tell them about the cure, and that we are on our way to Boston because in each of us is a rare gene that when combined has the potential to fight this pandemic.”

  With a blank face he stared at me then he burst out laughing. “Oh my God, that is brilliant.”

  “I know, right?”

  For a brief few seconds I thought he was on board.

  “If you’re a fucking idiot!” Ryland got up and tossed the remainder of his cigarette at the ground. Bright orange ash scattered. “Do you honestly think they are going to buy that?”

  “Without us alive, they don’t get the cure.”

  “Where the hell did you come up with that winning idea?”

  “The Last Supper.”

  “The what?”

  “Everyone focuses on what Christ said around the table, right? But did anyone ever think about why he had these twelve people following him around? I mean, sure there was more than that. As it said, the crowds were huge but there was only ever twelve mentioned. Why?”

  “I’ll tell you why. They were chosen.”

  “Exactly. Handpicked. So we just tell them that after an extensive search, the doc selected us out of a huge number because of something special in our genes.”

  “Scotty. Okay, brother, I know this is a stressful situation but if you expect me to go in there and tell them that, then you are definitely out of your mind. I’m not doing it.”

  “Can you think of a better idea?”

  He narrowed his eyes at me and pursed his lips. He brought his finger up as if he was about to say something then he stepped away.

  “There is a fifty-fifty chance they are going to die in there. Actually it’s probably higher than that. There is also a fifty-fifty chance they will buy this.”

  Ryland continued to pace back and forth. “I don’t like it but…” He sighed again for what seemed like the tenth time. Heavy and overly done. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this but… let’s give it a go.”

  I arched a brow. “You sure?”

  “Scotty, no, I’m not and if you ask me again…”

  I threw my hands up. “Okay. Okay.”

  I moved over to the corner of the building. “You ready to do this?”

  “That’s kind of asking me again.”

  “Just checking.”

  We were just about to move out when I heard a whistle. It was low, and I almost mistook it for a bird. As we hurried across the road I heard it again, this time it was louder and coming from behind us. I turned and there in between the trees was none other than Jamal.

  “Jamal?” We double-timed it over to him. “What the hell, I thought you were inside?”

  “Are you kidding me? We got out after you guys left.”

  “All of you?” Ryland stammered as he asked.

  He nodded then Jamal pulled a face. “You okay, Ryland?”

  “No. No, I’m not. Scotty was about to lead us to our deaths with some asinine plan about twelve fucking disciples. So no, I’m not okay. Where are the others?”

  He thumbed over his shoulder with a confused expression. “Down at the railway station. I came out to take a piss and saw you up here.”

  “Oh really? Meanwhile we are just about to walk into the lion’s den. You think you could have given us the heads-up?” Ryland brushed past and charged ahead.

  “My brother there?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  A wave of relief hit me and the heaviness fell from my chest and yet I knew it wasn’t over. They might not have been captured but if that radio transmission had been accurate, Daniels and Tobias were in a whole heap of trouble. We made our way down to a small railroad station complex that looked like it had been built in the 1800s. It was a simple low-slung brown building with a gable and a broad, overhanging strut support roof in a stick style.

  Everyone was huddled inside the souvenir shop when we arrived. Nick was the first to head over. He pulled me in for a hug and I nodded. “Okay, dude, the length of that hug is bordering upon creepy now.”

  He shook his head and his lips wormed into a smile. “We thought you were dead.”

  “I thought they’d found you.”


  “Why?”

  “They found the room.”

  “You went back inside?” Nick asked.

  “We thought you were in there.”

  He sucked air between his teeth. “Oh, yeah, change of plans. Finn woke up and was threatening to yell so I knocked him out and we lugged him over here before he got all of us caught. I think he’s got a few screws loose.”

  I looked over to him. His hands and ankles were still tied.

  “Is that necessary?”

  “Brother. Trust me on this.” He looked past me and out the door. “Where is Daniels and Tobias?”

  I frowned and scratched behind my neck. “Well that’s the thing.”

  Brooke hurried over. “Where’s my brother?”

  “And my dad?” Lola asked.

  My chin dropped. When I didn’t immediately respond they tried to fill in the blanks.

  “Dead?”

  How was I supposed to tell them without sounding as if we had left them behind?

  “No, they’ve got them,” Ryland spat out.

  “But you went together?”

  “We got separated,” I added.

  “Then let’s go. We need to go get them out,” Lola said reaching for her handgun and trying to brush past. Nick grabbed her and had to forcefully hold her or she would have walked right out.

  Doc

  There are consequences for every action we take in this life. It doesn’t matter if we think the choice we made in the moment was right or not; it pushes into motion a new set of variables. And whether we like it or not, the guilt that comes with that may stay with us forever.

  I glanced at my watch. Time didn’t seem to have the same meaning as it once did. Before, we lived our lives by it. Running here, running there, trying to meet deadlines, reach goals, attend meetings, avoid pissing people off. We lived every day by that ridiculous piece of equipment. And yet even though with no school to attend, no work to get to, no set time to turn in for the night or anything to pull at us, I still found myself looking at it. It was a little after three in the morning. The sun would come up soon, those who had died overnight would rise if they hadn’t already and we would be faced with another difficult dilemma.

  Lola sat in the corner of the room being consoled by Diane. The kid was heartbroken over the thought of losing her father. Brooke wasn’t much different, except no tears came from her. Family was now a fragile thing that could be taken at any moment. I sipped at a can of Coke that I’d taken from a vending machine we’d busted open. Really, I shouldn’t have been drinking so much sugar at three in the morning but the chance of us getting any sleep was slim. Outside the station we could hear the dead roaming. Nothing but snarls and groans. All the gunfire had brought them out like rats from the sewer. No one was heading out for the remainder of the night — neither us nor the skinheads. Maybe that’s what made it hard — the not knowing.

  “Here, Scotty, you want the rest of this?” Nick said handing me a half-eaten bag of BBQ chips.

  I shook my head and crossed the room to speak with Diane. Besides the few times she’d been in to tend to my wound back at the Adirondack Medical Center, I really hadn’t taken the time to speak with her. I was curious to know more about what she’d discovered.

  Lola had begun to calm down, her eyes had closed, and she had her head resting on Diane’s lap the way a child might with its mother. Although the girl knew how to fire a weapon and she displayed more courage than most of the folks in this room, at the end of the day she was human and prone to the same fears and worries as anyone else.

  Diane raked her fingers through Lola’s hair and looked down at her with caring eyes. As I approached, she looked my way and smiled.

  “Hi Diane,” I said in a low voice, taking a seat beside her and looking at the others in the small building. They all were trying to get some sleep even if it was just a few hours. Tiredness would lead to mistakes and we couldn’t afford that, not in a world where a slow reaction could mean death.

  “You okay, Scott?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “How’s that arm of yours?”

  I rolled it around. “Painful at times but better than it was. I wanted to thank you for your help.”

  “Just doing my job,” she said returning to stroking Lola’s hair. Lola had finally passed out. Her eyes were swollen from having cried so much. She’d soon awake and once again reality would come rushing in like a heavy weight.

  “I wanted to ask about Boston. How did you know about them working on a cure?”

  “Before the power went down, the TV was broadcasting events around the country. The WHO had issued a statement to all medical centers informing them of what to expect. You know, that we would receive a flood of new admissions and that it was important that we contain them. They informed us that a team was working on a cure in Boston.”

  “Why not just leave it in their hands?”

  “Because the risk is too great. And if I can help, then I should.”

  “Even if it means risking your own life?”

  She nodded.

  “So you are confident you can help?”

  She smiled. “I know you want a definite, Scott, but it doesn’t work like that in medicine. It’s hard to know what this is until I can speak with those in Boston.”

  “But you must have a good idea, otherwise you wouldn’t travel?”

  “Yes and no. Like I said, it’s complicated.”

  “Then a rough idea?”

  She stopped stroking Lola’s hair, reached for a blanket from one of the bags and placed it under her head and then moved to a new chair.

  “Rough would be the word. From what I can tell the virus travels through the bloodstream to the brain. It attaches to the cells in the frontal lobe, attacks and then replicates itself, attempting to destroy them. Usually when a virus is present, the body releases a special hormone known as interferon to stop the virus from reproducing by killing the infected cells, but somehow this virus is preventing that from working. From what I can tell at this point the heart stops and essentially the person is dead. However, the brain is still alive while the virus continues to mutate the cells. Some of the body’s functions remain, such as walking, running, basic movement and eating but the rest is shut down. Again, this is just theory right now. It’s hard to explain what I’ve been able to gather from the cells taken from those infected. So if you are looking for a definite answer, I can’t give it to you right now. But the tests that I ran at the hospital looked promising for fighting off the virus.”

  I nodded slowly and looked away. “So if it travels through the bloodstream, that would explain about the bites and scratches, so why are others turning who haven’t been bitten?”

  “That’s the part I’m unclear about. Up to this point I have only been able to work with what is in front of me. Once I know what caused this, I will have a better idea. Sorry. I can’t be much clearer than that.”

  She reached into her pocket and ran a thumb over a flash drive that contained her research.

  “No, it’s okay,” I replied.

  She put a hand on my shoulder the way my mother would. I swear if I hadn’t been looking at Diane, I would have thought it was her. “Why don’t you get some sleep?”

  “Because when I sleep I see them.”

  “The dead?”

  “My parents.”

  She frowned. “Did you find them at your home?”

  “No. They left before we went to camp. They were meant to be going on some Caribbean cruise to celebrate their anniversary. Who knows if they made it.”

  “I’m sorry, it must be hard.”

  “You have family?”

  “No.” She cast her gaze down into her hands and touched her ring finger but there was no ring on it. “I was married for six years and we were thinking of having kids but it never worked out.”

  “The marriage?”

  “Both.” She looked back at me. “I couldn’t have kids. I mean we tried but it just never hap
pened. My husband couldn’t deal with it. I mean that’s what he says but I think it was more than that. Some people just aren’t meant to be together.”

  I scoffed and looked over to my brother. “Maybe it was for the best. I couldn’t imagine bringing a kid into this world now.”

  “I agree with you on that.”

  She tapped me on the leg. “Well if you aren’t going to get some sleep, I will. I’m going to need it.”

  “Need it?”

  “Speak to your brother. Probably best he explains.”

  She got up, took out a sleeping bag and laid it down near Lola and got inside. She smiled at me for a second and then turned her head to go to sleep. Nick was standing by the window looking out. He held his rifle down low. I strolled over and came up beside him.

  “How is it out there?”

  “A real circus,” he replied. “What a mess.”

  “Diane said you have something planned for tomorrow?”

  He cast a glance at me. “We’re going to hand over Finn.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Does he know about it?”

  “He was the one that suggested it.”

  “You know that isn’t going to fly, they will kill them anyway.”

  “Well it’s worth a shot, isn’t it?” he asked, turning around and walking back over to where he’d been sitting before. He reached into a bag and pulled out a can of lemonade and cracked it open. It hissed, and he chugged it back. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

  “No, I say we kill them. No haggling. We have some of us enter through the Townhouse Suite, some enter through windows on the north side, and the rest go through the front entrance. We hit them hard in the early hours of the morning when they’re asleep.”

  “Are we asleep?” he replied. His answer made me feel like an idiot for even suggesting it.

  “Some of us are. There were roughly twenty of them, Nick. At least ten died tonight. The odds are in our favor.”

  He scoffed. “Look around you, Scott. Do we look like we are capable of taking out guys that probably trained for an uprising? You’re all just kids.”

  “So are you.”

  “Older than you though.”