The Beginning of the End (Book2): Road to Damnation (19 page)

“That looks like it
hurts. So why don’t you quit fucking around and tell me what I want
to know? I'm beginning to lose my patience with you.”

No answers came from
Smith.

The stranger pressed
the revolver against Smith’s shoulder, “Come on old man. Tell me
what I want to know. I’ll give you three seconds. One. Two. Three.”
The sound of the revolver bounced off the house walls. Smith rolled
to his back clutching his shoulder. Blood was pouring out of the
wound.

“Tell me what I want
to know, Smith.”

“Just kill me!”
Smith screamed.

An evil laugh bellowed
from Kane’s brother’s lungs, “I’m not going to kill you,”
he sighed, “I’ve got bigger plans. Now tell me what I want to
know.”

“Never.” Smith
stuttered.

“You are a tenacious
son of a bitch aren’t you?”

Smith rode the edge of
consciousness while Kane’s brother bent over to look at the wound,
“Looks like I nicked an artery. You’ll be dead in less than five
minutes if I don’t do something fast. Better come with me.”

Kane’s brother
latched onto the old man’s ankle and dragged him outside next to
the MRAP.

“Don’t go dying on
me now. I’ve got just the thing to fix you up.”

He climbed into the
MRAP and stepped out a few seconds later with a MAC-10 machine
pistol. He pointed it in the air and pulled the trigger. It took less
than a second and a half to empty the 30 round magazines. He dumped
the magazine, replaced it with a fresh one, and emptied it into the
sky again. He climbed back into the MRAP and returned with a beach
towel. He squatted next to Smith and put the towel over the wound,
“You’re bleeding pretty bad, old timer. We don’t want you dying
yet, let’s get some pressure on that thing.”

Smith was in and out of
consciousness. Whenever he would start to pass out, Kane’s brother
would rub his sternum with his knuckles, bringing him back to full
consciousness.

Between the direct
pressure and chest rubs, he would look up and over his shoulders. He
was searching for something, and it was long before he found it. The
MAC-10 had done its job. It was the new age dinner bell.

Three zombies turned
onto Stetson Avenue and headed in the direction of the men.

“Hey, over here. Come
get us. It’s lunch time.” Kane’s brother called out. Smith saw
the zombies heading in their direction.

“What are you doing?
They’ll kill us for sure.”

Kane’s brother
laughed again, “Kill us? They’re not going kill us, old man.
They’re going to make you live forever,” he said as he climbed
onto the MRAP steps.

He waited until he was
sure one of the zombies had bitten Smith, then he put a bullet
through their heads.

Smith looked at the
bite marks on his arm, “Kill me,” he screamed.

“I said I was going
to let you live forever, you silly old man. Now you can. I bid you
farewell.”

Smith coughed black
ooze and fell unconscious as he watched the MRAP drive out of sight.

“Sorry Master Chief,
I’ve never heard of Simone or Aiken. Should I have?” Daniels
asked.

“Probably not, but
there’s always a chance you ran into them on your travels. Wishful
thinking I guess.”

“Who are they, Master
Chief?” Cecilia asked

“You can call me,
Sawyer,” he chuckled, “Only my boys call me Master Chief. You
guys are civilians. There’s no need for that. To answer your
question, at last report, Col. Aiken said Dr. Marcil and Dr. Simone
had created a serum that would cure this plague. They were supposed
to be on their way to Atlanta via private jeep.

At the time, General
Strong thought we were grounded due to a lack of pilots. Well,
someone, somewhere, knew a guy that could fly a chopper. We scrounged
up a Seal Team, hopped aboard, and flew to Canada.”

“Canada?” asked
Bunker.

“Affirmative sir. The
scientist’s lab was at McGill University. We flew there as fast as
we could. Unfortunately, we found Dr. Marcil deceased outside the lab
door. Judging from the black tire marks near the body, it looked like
they got out of there in a hurry. We’re assuming Col. Aiken and Dr.
Simone are still alive and en route to Atlanta.”

“You said team
before. Where are the rest of your guys?” Daniels asked.

“You’re looking at
‘em. All that’s left are Beck and me. There were seven of us plus
the pilot when we started. The pilot and three of my guys died in the
crash. I lost Salvatore trying to get out of Central Park. There were
thousands of dead there. Someone left the carousel running, and the
music is drawing them in. We landed in the middle of all the dead.
Beck and I were lucky to make it out alive. Now we’re all that’s
left. We’ve lost all communication with Atlanta, by now I’m sure
they think we’re all dead.”

Daniels looked around
the room. There was an enormous 30mm cannon on a tripod pointing out
the window. Against the wall were two loaded RPGs along with a few
rifles and, at least, ten ammo boxes.

“I don’t
understand,” Daniels said, looking at the equipment, “If your
team crashed in Central Park, then how did you get all these
weapons.”

Sawyer let out another
chuckle, “Good question. I guess I can tell you since it's no
longer classified.”

Sawyer led Daniels to
the eastern window, “What do you see out there?”

Daniels searched the
white and gray buildings, “I have no idea.”

Sawyer lifted a finger
and pointed directly across the street.

Daniels followed his
finger down, “The church?”

“Exactly,” Sawyer
agreed, “Although, we like to refer to them as mosques. That
particular mosque doubles as a recruiting station for ISIS. No one
walks in or out of that place without having his or her picture taken
by the NSA. The weapons belong to the NSA. They never use them. I
mean if you take a look at them, they’re all brand new. They pretty
much just use the camera system. But if there was ever going to be
fallout from that place, they would be ready.”

“How did you know it
was here?” Daniels asked.

“How did you not
know?” Sawyer replied, “Do you think for one second we’d let
terrorists go unwatched?”

Daniels thought about
it for a second, “I guess we don’t.”

“Hell no, we don’t,”
Beck chirped, “We’re set up all over the U.S. watching these
turds. If they try to make one move against us, red, white, and blue
is gonna kick some ass.”

Daniels looked away
from Beck back toward Sawyer, “So how did you end up in New York?”

“We missed them at
McGill, so we took a chance heading to the New York and Pennsylvania
border. I thought they would take Interstate 81 down to Atlanta. It
avoids the larger cities, and it’d be easier for them to resupply
in the smaller towns. It was just a hunch, so we bee lined for the
interstate. Our route brought us pretty close to the city and, well,
to be honest; we wanted to take a look and see how bad it was. Well,
that’s when it happened.”

“What happened?”
Daniels asked.

“Someone shot us
down.”

“Someone what?”
Bunker gasped.

Sawyer looked in
Bunker’s direction, “Yeah, you heard me. Someone shot us down.”

“With a rifle?’
Bunker gasped again.

Sawyer shook his head
no, “We think it was a Stinger.”

“What the hell is a
Stinger?” Daniels interrupted.

“It’s a hand held
heat seeking missile. You launch it like an RPG, and then it picks up
on a heat signature, like the exhaust from our chopper.”

“Oh my god,”
Daniels shrieked, “Who would do something like that?”

Sawyer shook his head
again, “I don’t know, Daniels. I just don’t know.”

Kane’s brother
continued searching the streets looking for any signs of their crew.
It was almost two hours later when he caught a glimpse of the wrecked
Humvee on the northbound lane of Interstate 87.

“They’re you are.
Let’s have a look shall we.”

Most people would have
raced to the scene of the accident. But not Kane’s brother, he was
much too sly for that. He sat and watched for any movement around the
Humvee and tree line near the crash site. Convinced the scene was
safe, he put the MRAP in gear and drove a complete circle around the
Humvee before stopping behind the wreck. He reloaded his MAC-10 and
climbed out of the MRAP.

When he listened, he
heard nothing. No screams, no birds, and the best of all, no moans.
The Humvee lay there wrecked with its wheels in the air. He felt the
muffler, it was cold to the touch, “So you’ve been here a while.
What else can you tell me?”

He dragged his fingers
across the .50 caliber bullet holes, “So there were two Humvees,
and you lost the fight. But were you my brother’s vehicle? I doubt
it. He’s much too smart to lose the upper hand.”

Walking around the
Humvee, the graves came into view. Kane’s brother knelt down
scooping a handful of the disturbed soil and rubbed it between his
hands, “Who are you under this mound of earth? We shall see soon
enough.”

The dirt was soft, and
he was able to push it away with his hands, “This grave is new,”
he thought, “the soil hasn’t even settled yet. What will you tell
me?”

It didn’t take long
before a nose broke the surface. A few more brushes revealed the face
of a young woman, “How are you, beautiful? What happened to your
face? That’s a gigantic hole in your forehead, and it’s
surrounded by powder burns. Someone shot you from up close, didn’t
they?”

He moved to the next
grave without bothering to push the dirt back over Kate’s face.
Sitting at the edge of the second grave, he wondered, “What will
you tell me?” as he pushed the dirt away exposing the man's face.
It was his dear brother Kane.

“Oh, brother,
brother, brother. What did you do? Now didn’t I teach you better
than this? What can you tell me about those culprits? Did the old man
have something to do with this? I think not. Let’s figure this out
together, shall we?”

Kane’s brother
cleared the dirt away and meticulously examined the body for any
clues. The body revealed no secrets.

“We can’t just
leave you here, can we? Let’s clean you up and get you in my
truck.”

Over the next two hours
Kane’s brother, stripped him, washed his festering flesh, and
dressed him again. Getting Kane’s body into the truck would have
been a difficult task for an ordinary person, but with his brother’s
extraordinary strength it was as simple as throwing him over his
shoulder, climbing the MRAP ladder, and setting him in the truck. He
placed Kane’s body in the passenger seat, put a pair of sunglasses
on him, and secured his seatbelt, “Safety first brother,” he said
in a flagitious voice.

As he stood there next
to his deceased brother, he knew the strange feeling of revenge would
determine his fate.

Kane’s body still
locked with rigor mortis, sat straight up staring south. His brother
lay a warm hand on his shoulder, “So it’s south then, is it? Well
if south is what you say, my dear brother, then south is where we
shall go.”

Chevy examined the
puncture wound the needle left on his arm and glanced up at Sophie.
She walked away, angry because of the attitude he gave her. I jumped
up to my feet and called out to Sophie, “Is that going to stop my
friend from turning into a zombie?” She didn’t answer and kept
walking, so I chased her down. I knew she heard me. I got in front of
her and held her by the arms, so she’d stop moving, “Sophie,
please tell me. Is that going to stop him from turning into a
zombie?”

Sophie gave me a
moronic look, “What do you think? I told you it was the cure. Why
the hell do you think it’s so important we get to Atlanta?”

I was baffled, “I
thought it was for protecting people who drank the water, not if they
got bitten.”

“It is for people who
drink the water,” she said, “It’s also for victims of zombie
attacks. If they’re not too far-gone, like Chevy, it should cure
them. It’s about a three-hour window.”

“Are you sure?” I
blurted out.

“If I weren't sure, I
wouldn’t be risking my life to drive across this godforsaken
country, now would I?”

I couldn’t believe
it. I wanted to ask her ten more times if Chevy was going to be okay,
but I knew he was. I ran back over to him and gave him the great
news. He sat there in disbelief and began to feel guilty about the
way he treated Sophie.

I was so happy I
shouted loud enough for everyone to hear the great news.

The whole group came
over and congratulated my friend.

Herman gave him a power
pill that was in the form of a Smartie candy, and Chevy merrily
popped it in his mouth, “Mmm, they’re warm,” he said.

“That’s because
Batman keeps them in his pocket…I’m Batman.” Herman cheered
while dancing around the parking lot.

Cowboy noticed Sophie
standing alone behind the banged up Jeep. She had one of the brown
boxes of ZMapp open and quickly closed it when she saw him walking in
her direction.

“Whoa, little lady.
It’s just me.”

Sophie pushed the box
into the Jeep and slammed the back closed.

“What are you doin’
there, Soph? Hiding the rest of your cure?”

“If we’re going to
save the world. I can’t give it out every time someone gets bitten
by one of those things. I need to get as much of this serum to
Atlanta as possible. Once we’re there, the lab can synthesize it,
and you can all have as much as you want. In the meantime, it needs
to be kept safe and unused. I don’t have enough samples to pass
around.” Sophie explained.

“Don’t you worry,
Sophie. We don’t want to use up your serum, and we want to save the
world as much as you do. I also don’t remember anyone asking you to
give it to Chevy.”

Sophie let out a deep
sigh and sat down on the bumper of the Jeep, “I’m sorry, Cowboy.
I must sound like a huge bitch right now.”