American Revenant (Book 3): The Monster In Man (4 page)

Chapter 6

Rick’s finger twitched,
caressing the trigger guard of his rifle.  He watched as the final few zombies
fell to the onslaught of bullets the soldiers were firing.

Watching the men shoot,
Rick wondered how many of the men were actually soldiers, and how many just
wore the garb and gear.  It was obvious that at least a few of them were just
pointing and shooting, not choosing their shots, or considering shot placement. 
Essentially, they were wasting precious ammunition.

Not moving from his hide,
Rick slowly swept his scope back and forth, watching the ditch where his
friends were concealed. He also kept a close eye on the man who appeared to be
in charge of the group at the armory.

After several tense
minutes the final gut-sucker fell, leaving a strange quiet in place of the
rapid popping of the rifles.  The men at the armory stood where they were for
several minutes, watching down the road with weapons at low ready.  When it was
clear that nothing else was coming along behind the horde that had just been
torn to pieces, several of the men broke away and began walking toward the
ditch.

The man Rick assumed was
the leader, possibly the “Greer” that he had heard the gardening guards
mention, stayed behind; watching as his men moved forward.  It occurred to Rick
that Gordy would have been first to investigate were they in a similar
situation.

The cold eye of Rick’s
rifle scope followed the leading soldier as he made his way around the end of
the ditch onto the highway, walking slowly, weapon raised and ready to fire. 
Though he knew that firing on any of the men down there would give away his
hidden position, he also knew that he would not hesitate to pull the trigger if
it appeared that his friends were in trouble.

Rick’s finger tensed as a
rifle shot popped in the distance.  Watching closely he could see there was no
alarm raised, that the bullet must have been for a zombie that had been down,
but not dead. 
Should have used a blade for an easy kill like that
, he
thought.

The men continued to walk
along the edge of the ditch for several feet, stopping at the obvious hole in
the heavy brush and grass.  Rick placed the crosshairs of his scope directly in
the center of the lead man’s chest, readying himself to take the shot at the
first sign of trouble.

He heard a faint shout
and saw the man raise his arm, waving his fellow soldiers over.  Rick drew in a
deep breath, exhaling slowly, allowing his heart to calm itself as much as possible. 
Slipping his finger through the trigger guard he caressed the trigger gently,
positioning his finger and readying himself to take the shot. 

He watched the men in the
distance as they gathered around the hole.  When they pointed rifles down into
the hole in the brush Rick knew he had to do it.

One last slow breath and
he began to gently squeeze the trigger, waiting to be surprised when it broke,
sending the speeding projectile into the man he was certain was about to fire
on his friends.

Suddenly Rick’s ears
twitched at the sound of a turkey hen warbling quietly in the distance. 
Relaxing his finger off the trigger he continued to listen, hearing the hen
several more times.  He could see through the scope that the men standing over
the ditch heard the sound as well, though they appeared to be ignoring it, as
one of the men jumped down into the ditch, lost to Rick’s view.

After one last look
through the scope, Rick folded up the attached bipod and slung the heavy rifle
over his shoulder, leaving him easy access to the pistol on his hip.  He faded
quietly back into the woods, moving slowly, so he didn’t attract unwanted
attention by accident.

Once he felt he was far
enough into the trees to not be seen he moved as rapidly as he could in the
direction of the car, while still being able to pick his steps carefully,
making little noise as he passed through the thick undergrowth.

After several agonizingly
slow minutes Rick could see flashes of the De Soto through the trees, a few
steps later he could make out Jimmy kneeling on the ground next to the car, his
shotgun pointed out across the trunk.  He began to whistle quietly, two long
and two short whistles, repeating it until he stepped out of the woods next to
the men waiting for him.

“About fucking time, man,”
Jimmy said, glancing at Rick.

“It’s been less than ten
minutes since I heard the call.  Made my way here fast as I could.”

Jimmy’s eyes flicked back
toward the drive they had come in on, watching for signs of anyone following.  
He slowly stood up and reached into the car, stowing his shotgun upright next
to the passenger seat.

It was then that Rick
noticed Gordy stretched out on the back seat of the big car, his face twisted
in obvious pain.

“What happened; what’s
wrong with Gordy?”

“Busted his knee fending
off a Zom,” Dean told him.

“Let me take a look at
it,” Rick said as he leaned into the back seat, reaching for Gordy’s pant-leg. 

“We need to go, now,
before those assholes find us sitting here with Gordy’s pants down.  Jan can
take care of it when we get back.”  Jimmy slid into the driver’s seat,
motioning for Rick to hurry up and get in.

Rick stored his rifle and
pack in the trunk, sat down in the passenger seat and looked over his shoulder
at Dean, who sat with his dad’s stretched out legs across his lap.

“You need something to
cushion your head against the door, Gordy?”

“Hell no, just get home,”
He answered through tightly clenched teeth.

Jimmy took that as his
cue, starting the engine and backing slowly down the short drive.  Wasting no
time watching for men from the camp, they sped away home, Gordy’s groans of
pain causing them all to cringe.

None of the men
saw the greasy-haired head poke through the foliage just at the edge of the
ditch where they had climbed out, watching the De Soto as it drove away.

Chapter 7

Jimmy pulled up to the
main bridge-gate, blasting the car’s horn in the day’s signal, letting those on
guard know that all was well to lower the gate and allow them to cross.  As he
pulled up, stopping just before the drop that had been dug in the roadway,
Louis stepped up to the window, asking questions, wanting to chat.

Jimmy’s terse, “Drop it.”
And a quick glance into the back seat let him know that now was not the time. 
He ran to the crank, winding it wildly.  As soon as the cattle guard dropped
Jimmy was on the gas pedal, hurrying to get Gordy to his wife. 

Louis watched the car
speed past, turning to crank the bridge back into its upright position only
after he saw the car make the left turn toward camp.

As always, people came running
out to greet the returning vehicle, stepping back when they realized that Jimmy
wasn’t slowing to a stop in the parking lot.  Tires slid in gravel as Jimmy
stopped the car directly in front of Jan’s dispensary and emergency clinic.

Jan’s face appeared in
the tiny window set in the front of the building, watching as the rear
passenger door of the car was flung open.  She threw open her door when she
realized the men were dragging her prone husband from the car. 

Images of Sam being
dragged from this same back seat flashed through her mind.  The knife jutting
up from his shoulder, blood soaking his shirt front and back carried her into a
moment of dizziness. 

Jan felt her mind begin
to disconnect from the situation, not as a caregiver, but as a wife.  Her
stomach lurched, mind reeling in terror.  Just at that moment when it felt as
if the last few strands of sanity were going to snap, catapulting her into an
oblivion of senseless screaming, Jan fought back.

In a matter of moments
she took in the sight of three men covered in blood and gore, the detritus of
death, and one man that was as clean as when he left.  She turned on Rick,
spitting, “What the hell happened?  Weren’t you supposed to be watching out for
them?” 

Rick was about to respond
with as much vehemence when he noticed the fear coursing through Jan’s eyes. 
He stepped back, allowing Dean and Jimmy to get Gordy upright between them,
while still holding Jan’s gaze.

“Wasn’t anything he could
do, Janet.  Shit happened, we’re all alive and no one is bitten.  Ahhhhh,
FUCK!”

Gordy cried out as the
two men tried to lift his foot above the threshold of the door, the toe of his
boot just barely bumping the wood.

Jan let out a breath,
finding a small measure of relief that no one was bitten, though she wouldn’t
entirely relax until she had checked all four men for possible infections.

“Get him up on the
table.  The three of you wait here, everyone else out.”  Jan spoke with such
force that raising her voice was unnecessary. 

Jimmy caught his wife’s
eye just as she was turning to leave with the rest of the small group that had
gathered outside the door.  Worry creased her face, causing laugh lines to
deepen and darken.  He wanted to feel for her, to reach out and comfort her
like he knew she needed to comfort him.  He gave her a short nod and turned
back to Jan and the others cramping the small building.

“Someone needs to tell me
what happened,” Jan said as she prepared to cut the leg from Gordy’s camouflage
cargo pants. 

Lifting his head to see
what his wife was doing, Gordy grunted, saying, “Don’t cut it, damn it, just
help me to take them off.”  He began unbuckling his belt, nearly in tears with
the effort.

“What the hell are you
doing, Gordon?”

“My favorite pair,” He
replied, breathing heavily, as sweat began to roll down the sides of his face.

Jan paused for a moment,
just staring at her husband before setting the emergency shears down and moving
his fumbling fingers from the buckle.  She quickly unbuckled the belt,
unbuttoned the pants themselves and began to slide them down past his hips.

Gordy began to wheeze and
grunt with every jerk of the fabric, fighting back a scream.  He didn’t seem to
care that his boxer shorts had pulled half-way down his hips. 

“Damn, Gordo, if you were
any whiter you’d be transparent.” 

“Fuck you J-Jimmy,” Gordy
shot back, stuttering at a spark of pain.  He tried a grin, but his face could
only mirror what felt to him like electricity and fire both in his knee. 

Gordy and Jan both gasped
when she slid the pants past the knee, Gordy from the painful rubbing of the
heavy fabric, Jan from the sight of the swollen and bruised knee.

“What the hell did you do
Gordon?  It has to be swollen nearly twice the size of normal.”  Jan probed as
gently as she could at the tight, darkly bruising skin surrounding Gordy’s
knee.  No matter how much he tried to hold still, he jerked and twitched at
every touch; both touch and twitch igniting bolts of pain up and down his leg.

Jan sucked air through
her teeth as she spun around, grabbing items from a nearby shelf.  Tearing open
packages, snapping and shaking and rustling plastic bags, she soon had several
instant ice packs surrounding the knee.  A rolled up towel helped to brace the
knee in a slightly bent position.  She sent Dean and Rick out to get two long
branches, at least an inch thick, to use as splints to immobilize the leg,
preventing further injury to the damaged tissue. 

Every movement was swift
and efficient, and Jan had the knee iced, braced, and the leg bound in a splint
within minutes.  Throughout everything the other men had been explaining to her
what happened in the concrete ditch as they were watching the armory.

“So you guys are certain
that these people are the same ones that somehow got zombies through the woods
and close enough to where our crew was working to draw them in, as well as
shooting up our guard shack, surprisingly without killing anyone.”

“No doubt, Mom.  I
recognized the pickup as the same one that drove by several times, as well as
shooting at us.  The VW Bug that Arianna stole was there too.  It’s got to be
how they know we’re here.”

Jan stood at the small
cabinet where she kept the strongest drugs she had available to her.  Staring
at the paltry supply she understood that just this one severe injury could deplete
her stores drastically, possibly leaving her without medication strong enough
to alleviate anything worse than a mild headache.

She took a single dose
ampoule down from the shelf and a syringe from a box underneath.  Gordy barely
noticed the prick of the needle as it entered his arm.  He sighed as the drug
hit his system, removing the worst of the teeth from the creature that was
eating its way through his knee.

“He’s going to be out for
a little while with that.  I need to get that swelling down some before I can
inspect and diagnose it.  If he starts to breathe funny let me know.  It wasn’t
a large dose, but you can’t be too careful with that stuff.  Let me check you
guys over and we can figure out what to do from there.” 

Jan’s face was drawn,
already exhausted from the emotional strain of seeing her husband being pulled
from the car much the same way as her son had been.  She worked quickly, with
little talk, other than to ask about cuts and abrasions. 

She examined Dean’s
thumbs closely, going so far as to use a small magnifying glass to look them
over.  She finished with the exam, but did not release his hands immediately. 
She held on to her youngest son’s hands, drawing on both his strength and the
comfort they gave.

Dean leaned in close, his
forehead resting against hers and said, “He’s stronger than anyone could ever
imagine, Mom.  He’ll be fine, especially with you taking care of him.”

Jan’s
chest hitched once and again before she took a deep breath, gathering herself
together.  She would take time to cry later, when someone was not immediately
dependent on her.  “I know, baby.  You guys go, get some food and rest.  Let
everyone know that there’s nothing to worry about, no one was infected.  We’ll
talk in the morning.”