Better Lucky than Good (Records of the Resistance) (24 page)

"CLAY! We're running out of time!" screamed Melanie from inside the bus.

Clay turned back towards the bus, witnessing a sea of arms protruding between its exterior walls and the frame of the church doors.

"Shit..." Clay said quietly.

He holstered his pistol in preparation to make a run for the bus before a voice sounded from within the main hall.

"Wait! Please!" cried out a meek female voice.

Clay looked over his shoulder towards the long church pews. If he had to guess, Clay would have estimated that around twenty individuals now stood in the rows of seating.

"It's a good thing we have a bus." Clay said, after turning to face the congregation.

"We don't have time to waste. Lets go. Leave everything that's not in your possession right now!" he commanded.

A young woman dressed in the Habit of a nun stepped out from behind one of the pews and began to wave her arms to the people who were moments ago hiding in fear. They began to file out from within the seating, some carried back backs while others made for the bus empty handed.
 

Clay lead the group towards the rear entrance of the bus, his pistol aimed out in front of him should any of the undead squeeze their way into the interior of the church. Having to assist every individual into the bus was a time consuming process, yet unavoidable. It occurred to Clay that these paper-thin people moving under their own power, was a miracle unto itself. Clay quickly deduced that most of these people were in no condition to travel and without their timely arrival, would have soon started succumbing to their inevitable demise. Their smell almost rivalled that of the infected, obviously having had been entrapped within the safety of the church for too long without fresh water. Their gaunt faces indicated to Clay that they were slowly starving to death. Clay wondered to himself how much longer they possibly could have survived, or even if they would be capable of enduring the trip home.
 

"Now you, sister." Clay said to the young nun, having lifted everyone else into the back of the bus.

"Clay! We have to go!" Melanie shouted from the front of the vehicle.
 

Clay looked down the aisle, seeing Melanie standing with her rifle aimed at the windshield. He quickly wrapped his arms around the nun's waist and lifted her into the bus. The young woman abided his effort and weakly assisted him. After gaining entrance into the bus, she quickly seated herself to the side, allowing for Clay to make entrance. Reaching behind him, Clay grasped the latch to shut the emergency exit, praying in the back of his mind that it would close, despite having sustained the damage that it had. To his relief, the door latched securely and was left in Clay's dust as he moved towards the front of the bus.

"Alright Mel, everyone's in. Get us out of here!" Clay yelled, scooping up his shotgun from the floor behind the driver’s seat.

The infected had managed to mount the hood of the bus and had presently begun to beat on the already cracked windshield. The glass flexed inward with each blow, showing its intent to give way to the undead onslaught at any moment.

Without hesitation, Melanie threw herself into the driver’s seat, and began working the shifter.

"Everyone, cover your ears!" Clay yelled, turning his head towards the people occupying the seats behind him.

The machine's engine roared, Melanie having manipulated the transmission more proficiently this time. The bus lurched forward as it pulled itself free from the wide church entrance, sending the infected riding atop the hood crashing into the wind screen.
 

In response to the additional weight, the already heavily damaged glass began to succumb; bending inwards and starting to release from within its frame.

"Crank the wheel and give it everything!" Clay yelled to Mel, mounting his shotgun and bringing it to bear on the buckling glass to his front.

Melanie did as instructed, the herculean mode of transportation pushing effortlessly through the horde. Upon feeling the front tires drop onto the street from atop the curb, Mel allowed the wheel to straighten out.
 

"Get low, Mel! Keep the wheel straight and the pedal down!" Clay yelled.

Mel leaned forward as best she could, tucking herself behind the wide steering wheel. As if on cue, the windshield finally collapsed; pinning her beneath it. Immediately, the undead on the hood simultaneous attempted entry into the bus. In response to the threat, Clay began unloading his weapon's magazine of it's twelve-gauge contents. Skulls shattered in response to the heavy firepower at such close range, the limp bodies vacant of any life being thrown from their perch on the hood. A single infected remained by the time Clay had ejected his final spent shell onto the floor of the bus. After tossing his shotgun aside, Clay reached forward and grabbed the final infected by the shirt. Assisting its entry by dragging it through the orifice, the infected landed less than gently onto the floor of the bus. The rough landing left the soon to be permanently dead man laying face down on the floor. Clay capitalized on the infected's prostrate position, by mounting its back and pinning the man to the floor. Reaching around his own waist, he drew his tomahawk from its position tucked in his belt. Clay dealt a vicious killing blow to the back of his opponents head, the blade sinking deep enough of to penetrate skull and through his face; striking the rubber flooring beneath it.

Clay stood, jerking his weapon free and tucking it back into his belt. Melanie was still driving blind with the pedal to the floor, being pinning by the buckled windshield.
 

"Slow down Mel, we're free." Clay said, lifting the glass from atop her.

Melanie sat up, still being unable to see through the cracked and bloodied windshield.

"Open the doors..." Clay said, having to yell over the loud noise of the massive Diesel engine.

The side entrance of the bus swung open in response to Melanie yanking a lever to the right of the steering column. Clay tipped the heavy glass towards the short declining stair well, allowing gravity to assist him in removing the glass from the interior of the bus. Toppling end over end down the stairs, the former wind screen disappeared from view entirely as it exited the door.

Reaching down, Clay grabbed the man who had made entry into the bus by the ankle. Pulling him also towards the stair well, Clay positioned the man at the top of the narrow stairway. After raising his limp form into a rough seated position facing inward atop the stairs, Clay delivered a hard kick to the man's chest sending him tumbling backward along the same path traveled by the windshield.

Tiredly, Clay threw himself into the long bench seat which was situated across the aisle from Melanie. Clay slid himself backwards, leaning against the inner wall of the bus and lounged tiredly.
 

Melanie looked back and forth between Clay and the road, a smile beginning to take form on her lips. A smile that Mel was powerless to prevent. Clay too had started to respond to the curling lips of Melanie with his own.

"Holy shit... Can you believe that plan actually worked?" Clay said through his widening grin.

The comment was enough to prompt Melanie into hysterical laughter, being followed quickly by Clay's own. Even over the noise of the road and the wind rushing past their ears, the fresh rescues could hear the hysterics emanating from the front of the bus. Weak and lost, the skeletal passengers looked on in silence at the celebrations of their unknown saviours.

*****

It was immediately evident to Clay that Tim and Jamie had been hard at work during his absence, having both G-Wagens repositioned on the road at the rear of the column. Melanie had slowed the bus substantially in an attempt to lessen the dust and debris rising over the hood and into the cab, allowing for Clay to observe the rendezvous point during their approach. Clay, having retrieved a pair of binoculars from the bag containing the equipment which had been collected from his home, now stood at the head of the long vehicle, scouting the area ahead.

"Slow us down, Mel... I see 'em." Clay said, watching Tim and Jamie step out from the tree line and onto the road.
 

Melanie down-shifted the transmission, slowing the bus to almost a crawl for the remaining one-hundred yards between themselves and the reclaimed military equipment. The liberation of the church survivors although successful, had taken its toll on Melanie. Not to mention the events of the day leading up to the rescue. The early rising, the bantam-infected, the beating she had been delivered at the hands of Clay's ex-girlfriend. It was no wonder that Melanie found relief in the thought of reuniting with Tim and Jamie. It meant that everybody would soon be home.

"Shit!" Clay said suddenly, still peering through the binoculars.

"What?" Melanie asked, that feeling of relief beginning to vanish.

"They aren't alone." he replied, trading his binoculars for the shotgun.

Melanie leaned forward, squinting off in the distance towards Tim and Jamie; both of whom she could plainly see on the edge of the woodlot.

"Are you sure? I don't see any infected." she said, shaking her head.

"Stop here, Mel. Not infected... Army." Clay said, stepping down into the stairwell of the bus' exit.

Melanie slowed the bus further, eventually coming to a complete halt thirty yards from where Tim and Jamie stood.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Melanie asked before opening the door for Clay, her hand gripping its lever.

"Not if they're unhappy about us stealing their equipment. Now open this door. If anything goes wrong, you get the hell out of here." Clay said, the finality of his tone indicating that there would be no further discussion.

Melanie knew better than to argue about the matter further. The grievous manner of Clay's voice was entirely unfamiliar to Melanie. It lead her to believe that despite all of the daunting situations they had faced, it was this moment that would worry him most. Cranking the lever and opening the door, Melanie watched as Clay stepped onto the gravel road.

Clay attempted to maintain a posture that would appear as non-threatening to the armed men currently camouflaged in the woods behind his friends, notwithstanding the fact that he was armed. Walking casually towards Tim and Jamie, Clay cradled the shotgun in a single hand at his side.

Stopping a few yards in front of his friends, Clay briefly made eye contact with them but afterward maintained his focus solely on the woods behind them.
 

"I'm not entirely sure how to get us out of this one guys..." Clay said with resignation.

His statement was entirely factual. Clay, who had been fortunate enough to repeatedly recognize a quick solution in the past, was now at a loss. To his surprise both Tim and Jamie began to laugh, drawing Clay's attention from the hidden men in the brush behind them.

"I'll take that chocolate bar now." Tim said, looking over his shoulder.

"Just for the record, I voted against this idea, Clay." Jamie said apologetically.

Clay's focus shifted back towards the woodlot, as twelve men all in full combat dress stood from their concealed positions, leaving him entirely confused.

"Nah, I'm calling bullshit, man... He still got out of the bus." said the soldier on the far right of the men who had begun to advance towards Clay.

Tim turned around to face the source of the debate.
 

"No fucking way! You heard him. Clay clearly knew you guys were in the woods." replied Tim.

"You mean to tell me that he saw twelve men, armed to the fucking teeth and ready to kill, and still got off that bus? To do what?" the soldier argued playfully, standing now face to face with Tim.

The group of soldiers had formed an arc around Clay and his companions; one of the men stepping forward ahead of the others.

"I don't think it would have mattered even if there were a hundred of us..." the man said, staring hard into the eyes of Clay.

The debate being had by Tim and the other soldier ceased, the moment the man who addressed Clay had begun to speak.

"Captain Scott Lavigne." he continued, extending a hand towards Clay.

Clay's brief moment of hesitation was a result of confusion, but he soon replied by firmly grasping the hand offered by Captain Lavigne.

"Captain, I have twenty people in that bus back there. All are starving, dehydrated and who knows what else. Any help that you could provide would be appreciated." Clay said, addressing the officer in a manner befitting of his rank.

Turning slightly to face the bus, Clay motioned with his arm to Mel that she should move the bus, along with it's occupants to his location.

"Sir, we don't exactly have the facilities to provide care for these rescues..." Clay continued, until he was interrupted by Captain Lavigne.

"Clay, I've been fully brought up to speed on your situation by your men here. Unfortunately, the fight hasn't been going well for anyone... Not just in this region, but world-wide." said Lavigne.

This was the last thing that Clay wanted to hear. He had been counting on the success of the military campaign. It had been his light at the end of the tunnel. His reprieve from this unwanted position as the leader of this impromptu effort.