The Renegades (A Post Apocalyptic Zombie Novel) (18 page)

I
t was
a slow drive back to what remained of Castle Rock. Jess and Izzy sat up front with Dax, while the two girls and I were in the back. I learned the older one’s name was Caitlin, the other Millie. I must have looked like a newborn baby covered in blood, gunk, and shit. We never spoke much on the way back. I think each of us knew that we had turned a corner. One we could have never have seen coming a year ago. If each of us were asked, I imagined we would have said we had an aversion to killing, but when you are pushed into a corner, it’s surprising what you will do to survive.

I only wished that it hadn’t come to this.

As we rounded the final bend that led in to Castle Rock, I blinked hard, unable to believe what I was seeing out of the front window. The ground looked like a wide smiling mouth. Main Street was gone, and with it at least two thirds of the area including Z’s. A few stragglers shuffled around moaning and snarling, but nothing compared to the horde that once streamed through the streets, back alleys, and stores.

Dax brought the truck to a stop. As it idled quietly we gazed at the little that remained. Even if we had wanted to stay, there was nothing left to stay for. The town had fallen into the vast network of mine tunnels. Swallowed by history itself, the once booming town that had attracted miners and tourists with the allure of riches, now lay in ruins.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when a Z came up alongside the truck and slapped the window with a half-eaten hand. Its fingers were gone, chewed right off, now all that it had was a bloodied stump. The two girls, who we had come to learn were sisters, huddled together, pressing their bodies closer to each other. I imagined it would take a long time for the shock to leave. They had been traumatized on a level that none of us really knew. Assaulted, both by the dead and the living.

Dax shifted the vehicle into drive and slowly we made our way around the perimeter of the town. When we arrived at the back of Specs’s old man’s apartment, we had to park a good distance away because it had collapsed into the wide fissure that ran through the street.

“Wait here. I’m going to take a look.”

Dax jumped out. I joined him, taking one of the assault rifles.

“You think they got out in time?”

“I don’t think they would have been dumb enough to stay inside.”

We tried not to get too close, there was no way of knowing how safe the ground beneath us was. We hadn’t been out of the truck more than a few minutes when we heard the sound of shotguns being pumped behind us.

Without even turning around we held out our guns.

“That’s it, turn around slowly.”

I frowned. I knew that voice.

“And suck my dick.”

I cast a glance over my shoulder to find both Baja and Specs trying real hard not to burst out laughing.

“You assholes,” Dax said, swinging at them while trying to hold it together himself.

“We had you. You should have seen your faces.” Baja mocked us by pretending to cower.

“I actually think they shit themselves. In fact, hold on a minute…” Specs sniffed the air. “I can smell it.”

I raised my hand. They started laughing even harder.

“Ah man, what the hell?” Baja said, holding his nose.

“You hang from a wire over an abyss. See if you can hold your shit together.”

“Dude, you are worse than Matt,” Specs added.

Which reminded me. The first order of business before we hit the road was to get cleaned up. The strangest thing was the only building that hadn’t fallen into the hole was the one owned by the midget Chinese couple. It was as if the entire crack had avoided their store altogether.

Baja held a closed fist up to his face. “Oooh, that’s some serious black magic shit, right there.”

I could hear laughter coming from the truck as I dashed into the store and cleaned up using water from a burst pipe. A burst pipe, and a few cracks in the wall! That was the only damage. It was uncanny. When I returned to the truck, the laughter still hadn’t subsided. My face was flushed, not that it mattered. When they saw what I had changed into they continued snorting. The only thing I could find was a pair of pants that belonged to the owner. They were so short, they could have been mistaken for a pair of boxers.

As Dax turned over the engine and adjusted his mirror, he smirked at me in the back seat and shook his head. Baja and Specs squeezed in beside the girls. Even they looked as if they had perked up a little.

“Where now?” I asked.

“Salt Lake City.”

“What’s there?” Caitlin asked

We all looked over. It had been the first words we’d heard out of her. I was about to say sanctuary, but after hearing the Colonel’s definition, instead I said, “Hope.”

Hope was the only thing keeping us from losing our minds.

As in all honesty, that was all we had now. The hope of a new day. A fresh start. A possibility to find something better. Whether Salt Lake City offered that was another thing entirely. As the truck bumped its way beyond the outskirts of town, heading for the city, I glanced at the others. I don’t think any of us cared, we were alive and for now that was all that mattered.

So maybe we will live to see another day, or perhaps we’ll die. No one can be certain. But one thing I know, until then, we will choose to stand between what remains and all that might come to kill.

We may not be the fastest or strongest.

We might not have what it takes to survive.

But we’re full of heart, and that’s enough.

We are, the Renegades.

T
hank
you for reading The Renegades. If you enjoyed the book, I would really appreciate it if you would consider leaving a review. I can’t stress how helpful this is in helping other readers decide if they should give it a shot. Reviews from readers like you are the best recommendation a book can have. Without reviews, an author’s books are virtually invisible on the retail sites. It also let’s me know what you liked. You can leave a review by visiting the book’s page. I would greatly appreciate it. It only takes a couple of seconds.

T
hank you
—
Jack Hunt

J
ack Hunt is
the author of horror, sci-fi and post-apocalyptic novels. Jack lives on the East coast of North America. When he’s not writing, he’s engaged in dubious activities and general shenanigans. He invites you to contact him, send him lots of money and turn all his books into movies.

If he doesn’t reply straight away, he’s probably running away from a Zombie, chatting with his drug dealer or having a dump. Either way, he will respond when he’s good and ready unless of course you are the FBI in which case you’ll never hear from him.