Crusade (Eden Book 2) (42 page)

Julie was still pinned to the tree where Buddy had left her. She rolled halfway over onto her stomach and pulled her backpack towards her, going for something inside. Her clothes had ridden up and part of the Cosette tattoo on her back was visible.

Buddy stuck his booted foot on her chest and flipped her back over. Julie’s face was streaked with tears and mucus. Long strands of her hair were sweat pasted across her face.

“Buddy—Buddy, no, please—”

He fell on her again, securing his grasp on her neck and squeezing, his forearms shaking with the effort. Julie clawed at him with her one free hand but he ignored the scratches she opened on his face. Blood ran down his cheeks and neck. Her nails stopped ripping at his face and her legs stopped kicking. Her hand went limp beside her, and he was still unaware.

A gunshot behind Buddy gave him pause. He let go of the dead woman and turned around.

Singh had shot one of the two zombies that were eating him. The thing reached up to its forehead and touched the hole there, then promptly rolled over.

The doctor struggled with the second zombie. The creature tore flesh out of his exposed neck. Singh tried to get the pistol in its face.

Buddy shut his eyes from the pain in his back and side.

He stood and went over to his saddle bags, rummaged around within, and pulled his hatchet out. He limped over to Singh and the zombie and cleaved the beast’s skull.

Singh tried to aim the gun at Buddy but he couldn’t steady his hand. He wound up bringing the pistol snug against his own belly. His other hand reached up for his neck, squeezing as best he could. He was losing blood, but the zombies hadn’t hit his artery or he’d be dead by now.

Buddy looked up. There were more zombies entering the clearing. He limped over to the first and killed it with his hatchet. He had some trouble prying the blade from the thing’s head but finally freed it in time to bury it in a second beast’s face.

There was someone behind a tree watching him. The thing pulled itself back behind the trunk, out of sight.

No
, Buddy thought, suddenly petrified. His wounds screamed at him. He grew aware he was bleeding all over the place.
Had the thing been holding its own head?

Singh tried to control his breathing.

He watched Buddy standing there, looking out into the woods.

Buddy was talking to himself. Singh watched him stoop with great effort and retrieve his saddle bags, then sling them over his shoulders. Buddy looked around, ignoring or not seeing the doctor lying there. He focused on the sleeping child.

Oh God, no
… Singh couldn’t move.

A few minutes later Bear burst from the trees. He did not see Singh at first. The doctor watched as the giant spied Julie and the man’s shoulders drooped.

Bear looked down on Julie’s inert form. He looked up to the sky. There were tears in his eyes. He fell on his knees beside her and opened his arms, imploring the heavens, letting loose a howl of anguish and sorrow.

In the woods beyond Buddy was brought up short by the cry. He heard a rustle and turned. Something was following him, coming for him through the trees…

Markowski? No…how…

When he turned to look back in the direction of Bear’s howl, the brain following him stopped and stood perfectly still. The creature lacked anything resembling human intelligence but it could smell blood and it knew fear, and this man it was after was bleeding and very afraid.

Bear reached down, removed the knife from her wrist, and threw it off into the woods.

“…
bear
…”

He went to the grievously wounded doctor.

“What happened, Singh? Where’s the baby? Where’s the boy?”

Singh tried to speak, tried to explain what had happened, but all he could manage was a dispirited “…
buddy
…”

A new look came to Bear’s eye.

He retrieved his pack, slinging it over his shoulder.

Buddy
.

He drew one of his Glocks and walked back over to Singh. The doctor looked up at him, blinking. Without a word he fired a single round through the dying doctor’s head.

Buddy
.

Buddy lost his footing and went down to a knee. One of the saddle bags landed in the snow, the other draped loosely over his shoulder. He gasped as a bolt of pain shot up his spine. He was breathing hard, sweating and bleeding, and they were talking about him again.

…
he can run but it won’t help him…

…
leave him alone will you…

…
you saw what he did with the kid didn’t you…

…
run Buddy just run…

His bare hand had gone out to break his fall and was buried in the snow. He looked down at it like it didn’t belong to him. He didn’t feel the cold.

…
I’m comin’ for you boy…

He turned and looked over his shoulder in time to see something disappear behind a tree. He blinked and looked again but it wasn’t showing itself.

He knew who it was coming for him.

…
get up Buddy get up and move…

Yeah
,
Harris
. He righted himself, staring at his snow encrusted hand curled up into a claw, his arm bent at the elbow and pulled in tight to his side. He tried to pull the saddle bags back into place with his one good hand, but couldn’t quite do it.

…
he’s going to get you Buddy. Run…

He looked back and saw nothing. But that didn’t mean nothing was back there.

…
that’s right boy. You can run but you can’t run forever…

With a huff, he threw one leg in front of the other and continued to slog through the snow, dragging the saddle bags along.

Bear saw Buddy off ahead of him. He watched him stumble and fall and he waited while he knelt there. He had followed the spattering of red in the snow. He wondered when he would collapse from losing so much blood.

A zombie was between himself and Buddy. Because it was tracking Buddy, he thought it had to be a brain. They were smart, but he didn’t think it knew he was following it.

When Buddy turned his head to look behind once more, the undead thing darted behind a pine and stood perfectly still.

Bear wondered if he would get back up.
Where was the baby
? He was some distance away, but when he squinted he saw no evidence of the child.

Buddy stood, half bent over, and staggered on, the saddle bags trailing.

Bear gripped the handle of the flanged mace that much tighter through his glove.

Hey Buddy...

Gotta
…
gotta run
,
Harris
,
he’s
…
he’s coming for me
…

You remember the old man with the boat?

Yeah
. Buddy smiled and cleared his throat. He spat. It was a gob of blood, but he was unaware of it.

…
nigger…

He stopped and let the saddle bags fall.

Fuck this
.
It stops here
.

He turned to face Markowski.

There was a zombie thirty yards behind him. As he turned he saw it scurry behind a tree. He blinked. The tree was too small to hide the thing and he could see its arm and half its side behind the trunk.

He started to laugh. The effort caused him to double up and grip his stomach. There was blood on his lips.

Fuck
. Just a goddamn zombie back there. It wasn’t Markowski with his severed head.

…
you did the right thing, you did the right thing…

A zombie he could deal with. If it had been Markowski, he would have had problems. He turned and took one step forward—

…
you the man Buddy…

When the bullet hit him in the face it snapped his head back, lifting a piece of his skull free and sending it spiraling through the air to land several yards away.

Bear heard the crack of the unseen rifle. He watched Buddy catch the headshot, saw him plunge to the snow. He wasn’t moving. Bear hunkered down where he was behind the multiple twisted trunks of an evergreen and waited.

The zombie following was confused. It waited behind its own tree for a minute before emerging then running up to Buddy’s limp form. It wore a hoodie. Several thousands dollars worth of diamonds gleamed from the grillz in its mouth. It circled the body and the saddle bags in disappointment.

A second shot rang out and knocked the zombie down.

Bear watched from his concealment as the undead twitched in the snow. He spied four men as they broke from the trees and marched towards the bodies. When they reached Buddy and the fallen zombie, one of the men drew a pistol and shot the undead through the head.

Another used his foot to flip Buddy onto his back. They stood around him and the zombie talking for a bit, after which they gathered up the saddle bags and walked off in the direction they had come, back through the trees.

He crouched and waited for the sun to go down.

“Those were a couple of good shots you made today,” Jim told Pete.

“
Ahh
, first one was good. Zed went right down. Second one should have been better.”

“My brother, the sniper,” John said. “Mom and Dad would have been so proud.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“Not as cold tonight as last night.” Sean said. He was seated atop his sleeping bag, kicking absently at a small branch half in and half out of the fire.

No one particularly enjoyed sitting up for two hours alone while the others slept, but it was generally agreed among the men that the guys pulling first and last shift had it best. At least they could catch a solid six hours of uninterrupted sleep before or after their own turn.

“Wake my ass when the birds start chirping,” Sean said, curling up on his side in his sleeping bag. He had the fourth and final watch for the night.

“You be careful,” Pete told his older brother. “Or you’re going to wake up tomorrow and
your
ass is going to be sore.”

As if on cue Sean farted in his sleep.

“Now
that’s
funny,” Pete said.

Jim had come over with an oven mitt and was getting his can of baked beans from the fire. “You guys want you can stay up and keep me company.”

Jim sat away from the snores of the group, watching the dark and stirring what was left of his cold canned beans with a spoon. When the grenade exploded in the middle of the sleeping bodies, he was far enough away that the shrapnel wounded but did not kill him.