The Beginning of the End (Book2): Road to Damnation (18 page)

When she was done
listening, she pulled his shirt down and used both hands to feel
something in his neck. She finished by laying the back of her hand on
his forehead.

“So, what's up, Doc?”

With a comforting
smile, she gave him the news, “Other than the obvious bite mark,
you’re healthy as a horse.”

Chevy looked away from
Sophie and asked, “How long until I turn, Doc?”

Sophie lifted his arm
and examined the bite again running her fingers across the wound and
pushing against the darkening edges, “The bite from the creature,
caused minor lacerations. Judging from the appearance of the bite
wounds there was clearly transference of the virus from the host. I’m
sorry, Chevy.”

Chevy forced a chuckle,
“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know, Doc.”

“I’m sorry, Chevy.”

“It’s okay, Doc.
How long have I got?”

“Twelve hours. Maybe
a little less.”

Chevy yanked his arm
away from Sophie, “Get out of here, Doc. I’m gonna beat this
thing. You’ll see. Now get out of here so I can talk with my
brother.”

Sophie apologized again
as Chevy dismissed her with a wave.

“That was kind of
rude, Chevy. She wasn’t being mean.”

“I know, but I don’t
want to hear it. I told you, I’m gonna beat this thing.”

Chevy broke down, and I
held his hand tighter.

“I don’t want to
die, Ty.”

The only thing I could
do was lie to my friend, "Everything is going to be okay. I
promise."

Chevy was in the middle
of a meltdown when Sophie returned a couple of minutes later. He was
embarrassed when he realized she saw him crying and attempted to
dismiss her again, “I thought I told you to leave, we don't need
you here.”

She bent over at the
waist and looked him in the face, “You did tell me to leave, but
not before I give you this. You mouthy little shit.”

Sophie drove a syringe
into Chevy’s infected arm. She slammed her thumb against the
plunger, and I watched as the red fluid swirled in the hypodermic and
disappeared into his arm. Chevy yanked his arm away in pain, “Ouch!
What the hell did you just do to me?”

Sophie dropped the
syringe at his feet, “I just saved your life. It’s ZMapp.”

Chevy looked at the
drop of blood coming from the pinhole in his arm, “What’s ZMapp?”
he asked.

“It’s the cure,”
Sophie said as she walked away.

It had taken thirteen
days of back road driving for Kane’s brother to get back to
Plattsburgh. As he pulled into the fairgrounds entrance, even from a
distance, he could see there was something wrong.

The garage door on the
steel building tore from its tracks and lay on the ground in
shambles. He was cautious as he parked on the far side of the grounds
and crossed the field to the damaged building. The structure appeared
abandoned.

The stranger never much
liked groups, or even people for that fact. He was a loner and kept
to himself most of his life. Even in jail, he didn’t associate with
any groups. The whites, blacks, and browns. That was all jail
bullshit for the weak. People like him were strong and crazy enough
to be left alone.

Right out of High
School they gave him a nickel for a weak ass burglary charge. A whole
lot of crap if you asked him. He admitted he was in someone else’s
house, but he didn’t steal anything. There was nothing good in that
dump anyway. All he did was slap an old woman in the face when she
tried to call the police. They nailed him with a burglary second
charge. Something about committing a crime inside of a residence
you're not supposed to be inside of.

The judge said he was
getting away with a slap on the wrist. That slap turned out to be
five years in an upstate prison in Dannemora, New York.

A sentence like that
might have scared most people, but for the stranger, it was a chance
to get away, eat regular food, watch cable TV, and kick his opiate
habit. This time, he’d get off the smack for good.

They say the fist time
you go to jail you’re tested to see how tough you are. Proving
himself in a fight was something he’d never had to do before, and
he wasn’t concerned about it happening. The important thing was to
make sure you’re ready for it. It didn’t take very long. As a
matter of fact, it came on the first day. Walking into a block with a
bunch of new fish was a perfect opportunity for a veteran inmate to
put someone to the test. Most new fish are weak and quiet people.
They were usually the first to be tested, and they almost always
failed. Most would end up being passed around the cellblock wearing
blush and lipstick. The different gangs in the prison made them their
bitches.

Kane’s brother
thought it was funny and wondered why those losers would put up with
it. He swore he’d never let anyone take advantage of him. He’d
rather be dead.

It took almost a whole
week before the other inmates started sniffing around Kane’s
brother.

It starts out simple
enough, with the heckling and sexual innuendos. It was best not to
let them goad you into a situation you couldn’t control, but
eventually, they’d get to you.

For Kane’s brother,
it was after rec. The inmates had a pretty intense basketball game
and it ended with tempers flaring. The guards lead them from rec to
shower privileges that they got three times a week. That’s where
they made their move. Kane’s brother wasn’t expecting it. He
seemed to be getting along well with the other inmates. In his
opinion, it was a real accomplishment for someone who hated people.

Two males walked up to
him jawing. Their job was to distract him while two more inmates made
their move from behind. The idea was to beat him to the edge of
unconscious and then gang rape him. Nobody ever said prison was fun.

A lifetime of abuse and
hatred made the men’s task more difficult than they had expected.

The first convict
grabbed Kane’s brother by the shoulder and spun him around saying,
“I’m gonna make you my bitch.” While a second stood there and
laughed at the show that was about to unfold. The laughing man
annoyed Kane’s brother, so he struck him in the face hard enough to
break his nose and shatter his jaw.

Blood gushed from his
nose, mixing with the shower water as it swirled down the drain. The
second man swung his fist, only the have it connect with air. Kane’s
brother was too fast and dropped down striking the man on his bare
balls. He let out a yelp and crashed onto the floor. Kane’s brother
turned toward the two men that had tried to distract him and watched
as they raised their open palms and backed away.

The broken jawed male
was back on his feet again, before he could do anything he was struck
in the face a second time and tumbled backward onto the shower floor.
Kane’s brother jumped on top of him swinging his fists wildly and
screaming, “You’re my bitch, bitch.”

The second man’s
balls recovered enough for him to attempt a getaway.

Kane’s brother caught
the movement out of the corner of his eye tackled him to the floor.
He slammed his forehead against the hard tiled floor until blood
mixed with the water. He rolled the man over onto his back and sat on
his chest, “Looks like you got a broken nose too. Here’s
something to remember me by.”

Kane’s brother knelt
over and took a huge bite out of the man’s cheek. He spit the piece
of flesh back at the man and bit the other side, giving him a
matching set of holes exposing his cheek bone.

Kane’s brother was
pulled off the inmate, screaming and kicking wildly, “You’re my
bitch! You’re my bitch!”

That little stunt got
him a month in isolation. But he figured, fuck it.

Thirty days in solitary
confinement feels like a year of regular time. While most men walk
the fine line of sanity. Kane’s brother stewed and swore he would
get revenge for making him have to sit in isolation for a month.

Exactly thirty days
later, he was released back into general population. It was just
before lunch. He made his way to the mess hall when he saw the two
men who had attacked him in the shower. Not out of isolation for five
minutes and Kane’s brother ran over and attacked them again. One of
the men still had gauze bandages on his face from the healing bites.
He tore off the gauze and bit him again, ripping off more of his
cheek. The bite was so deep he felt his front teeth scrape the man’s
cheekbone. He laughed hysterically and screamed, “You’re my
bitch! You’re my bitch!”

Again, he was pulled
off by the guards and placed in isolation.

Everyone heard about
the incident and everyone knew his name. The remainder of his five
years in prison, no one said a word to him unless he spoke to them
first. He projected fear and lived in silence.

* * *

Now he walked the
abandoned building searching for clues, something that might tell him
the whereabouts of his brother, Kane.

A rotting corpse gave
stench to the room. He stood over it and stared. The face was bloated
and covered in flies, but he could tell by the filthy white wife
beater shirt, this corpse had once been Sam.

“Where’s my brother
you rotting bone bag,” he said kicking the corpse with his
snakeskin boots.

Bullet holes in the
side of the structure allowed sunlight to shine into the building.
One by Kane’s office caught his attention. The door was open, but
after a quick examination, it bore no clues other than the empty
closet.

“Now why would you
leave your closet door open? You wouldn’t do that, would you?
Someone must have got the upper hand on you and stole all your
weapons. If Sam is out there dead, where are you? Are you dead to?
Did you go after these people? I think you may have.”

The man in the
snakeskin boots continued his search outside the back door. Footwear
impressions led to the stone outcrop beyond the field.

“Where did you go?”

The trail that led him
to an old truck at the edge of the wood line, “Well, hello Mr.
Piece of shit truck. My brother drives a Humvee. So whom do you
belong too?”

Scoping the area at the
back of the fairgrounds led to the discovery of more tracks, “I see
you again. Where did you go now?”

The tracks to the Army
Reserve vehicle impound.

“It looks like
someone joined your group, judging from the extra sets of tracks and
acquired a Humvee. Ah, moving up in the world, I see. And where did
you go from here?”

Kane’s brother
followed the tracks down to the Route 3, “It looks like you had a
vehicle chase. So who was chasing whom? It must be Kane chasing you.
That means my brother must still be alive.

Hours passed as Kane’s
brother circled the town in search of the Humvees. He drove side
streets, back alleys, and dirt roads with no signs of either Humvee.
He had to find something soon, zombies were beginning to overrun the
town.

While he hated cops, he
loved their toys. And the new toy he had acquired a few days earlier
was an MRAP. A mine-resistant ambush protected vehicle. A fancy name
for a zombie-proof truck. It was all decked out with strobe lights,
sirens, S.W.A.T. emblems and stupid cop shit like that. He was sure
it equated to a cop’s wet dream. Whether he thought it was cool or
not, it was perfect for running down zombies, and the bulletproof
shell ensured he’d have no uninvited guests inside the vehicle or
survivors taking pop shots at him.

The man in the
snakeskin boots hadn’t seen a living person in days. He wondered if
there were any left in Plattsburgh. That was until he caught sight of
someone running in through the side door of a house. He was old,
carried a shotgun, and his head supported a stylish fedora.

The old man saw Kane’s
brother, but didn’t think he’d seen him. The old man crawled
through the inside of his house, pulled off his fedora, and peeked
out the window at the MRAP. He watched for any movement around the
vehicle. He was convinced the stranger was gone until he heard the
hammer cock behind him. The old man raised is arms and turned around
slowly, “What do you want?”

Kane’s brother kept
the revolver pointed at the man’s head, “I want my brother old
man. His name is Kane. He and his men patrol these streets in a
military Humvee. Have you seen them?”

“I don’t know who
your brother is, but I know his gang. They drive around kidnapping
women, so they can torture them. The boys went after him and probably
killed him.”

“Hmm, boys you say?
What boys are these?”

The old man looked down
at the floor, realizing he had just given up his friends.

“What’s your name
old man?”

“It’s Smith and
don’t try to be nice to me because I’m not going to give you any
information.”

Kane’s brother rubbed
his chin thinking, “So these boys, why did they go after my
brother?”

Smith kneeled there
with his chin up in the air, proud.

Kane’s brother moved
the revolver three inches to the right and blew off Smith’s ear,
“Now, Smith. Let me explain something to you. My brother, he was
the nice one. I was always the mean one. That’s because I took all
the beatings. My mama didn’t love me. Now, if you want to live, you
better answer my questions, or I’ll turn you into a sieve. So let’s
try it again. Why did they go after my brother?”

Smith huddled on the
floor. He stayed quiet and refused to answer.

Kane’s brother walked
around Smith as he spoke, “I never understood this, the old people
way, some sort of sense of pride that goes back to the old times I
suppose, it's honorable. But in the end, they give it up. They always
give it up, and you’re no different, old man. So once again, why
did they go after my brother?”

Smith babbled something
about pride and friendship, so Kane’s brother crushed his hand with
the heel of those shiny snakeskin boots.