The Survivor Chronicles: Book 1, The Upheaval (42 page)

“What are you going to do to stop me?” Creeper demanded as he stepped closer.

John knocked Creeper’s hand aside when he grasped for Rochelle. She whimpered low in her throat as she staggered backwards. “You are not taking her,” John said forcefully.

John went deathly white as Creeper lifted the rifle and pointed the barrel at his chest. To his credit though, John didn’t back down and he didn’t step aside. “I will shoot you.”

“No!” Rochelle cried as she lurched forward. “No don’t hurt him! I’ll go with you!” “No you won’t!” John retorted.

Creeper shoved John out of the way as Rochelle tried to get past him. Carl used the distraction to pull the gun out of his waistband just as Creeper got his hands on Rochelle. He slammed the muzzle of it against the guy’s temple, fighting the urge to just pull the trigger and just kill the sick son of a bitch.

“Let her go. You can take the truck, we won’t fight you on it, but you’re not taking her,” Carl told him.

Creeper didn’t move but his eyes slid to Carl and crossed as he tried to see the gun pressed against his temple. “I can shoot your friend.”

“You can, but I’ll still shoot you, and unlike you I know how to use my weapon.”

Out of the corner of his eye Carl saw the other two raise their rifles and aim at them. There was a good possibility they were about to be shot, but there was no way he was going to let them take Rochelle out of here without a fight. He’d rather be dead than live with himself if he allowed that to happen.

“She’s just a child. Just let her go and leave. We’re not looking for any problems. Please, just go.” For a second Carl thought the guy was going to see reason, that he was going to let Rochelle go, and then his hand tensed around her and he pulled her another step forward. “Don’t,” Carl warned.

“It’s okay. I’ll… I’ll go with him,” Rochelle stammered out. “I don’t want anyone to get shot.”

“That’s not an option,” John said firmly. “You don’t know what they’ll do to you.”

“I know what they’ll do to you,” she whispered.

“Listen to the girl,” Creeper muttered.

Carl pressed the gun harder against his temple, hard enough to make his head tilt to the side. Rochelle pushed against them as Creeper reached for her again. An echoing shot pierced the air. Carl shouted as he tumbled backward with John and Rochelle. Blood splattered over them as Creeper howled and reeled backward. His weapon fell to the ground with a metallic clatter that made Carl wince and shy away from the bouncing weapon.

What remained of the hand Creeper had been using to hold the rifle was bloody and brutalized as he held it up before him. Buzz lifted his rifle, spun in the direction the shot had come from, and fired crazily. Buzz’s head snapped back as another gunshot exploded. He toppled to the ground with a bullet hole dead center in his forehead.

Their remaining friend stood before the truck. The front of his pants was wet, and strange noises issued from him. Carl knew exactly how the guy felt and was grateful for the fact that his bladder hadn’t released itself also. The guy threw his rifle down, spun on his heel and fled down the road. Creeper was still screaming at the ruined remains of his hand as he staggered toward the tree.

It was one of the most repulsive things Carl had ever seen, but he didn’t feel one ounce of sympathy for the man. Creeper finally regained enough sense to turn around and run. He stumbled over the tree, fell in the road and then got up and fled into the woods, screaming like a banshee the entire way.

Carl adjusted his hold on the gun as he turned to face the new threat that had arrived. A threat that was apparently just as well armed, and much more adept with the firearms than the one that had just fled. He lifted the small revolver and aimed it at the three people that already had their weapons aimed back at him.

CHAPTER 29

Al

Foxboro, Mass.

“Put your weapon down,” Al said far more calmly then he felt.

“You put your weapon down,” the guy sporting the Red Sox cap and holding the gun retorted.

Al shifted his hold on the rifle. He didn’t relish the idea of firing the weapon again, but he would if he had to. Thankfully, he appeared to have a sharp shooter standing beside him, one that seemed to be fully capable of taking care of herself. If something happened he would have someone to cover him at least. Riley’s hand shook on the gun; she lowered it briefly before jerking it back up to point at the guy.

“We don’t mean you any harm,” Al assured him.

“You have three guns pointed at us, we have one. If you mean that then lower your rifle.”

There was a shuffling amongst the group and then a head popped out from between the two men. The younger guy tried to push the girl back but she shrugged him off as she stepped forward. “Mr. Shandling?”

The shock of hearing his name tore his attention from Red Sox to the young girl staring questioningly at him. Al was momentarily confused. Dirt, sweat, and splatters of blood obscured her features as she took another step toward him. “Rochelle?” he gasped.

She broke into a brilliant smile that lit her dark eyes. “Yeah, yeah, it’s me.” Baseball tried to grab her back again. “It’s okay. I know him.”

She broke free of Baseball and the younger guy and barreled toward him. Al lowered the rifle seconds before she flung herself at him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He’d never really known the girl, had exchanged only a few words with her over the years, but even so he had to fight back tears as he wrapped his arms around her slender frame.

Something had finally gone right today; something finally made sense, something good had finally happened. He’d wanted to find her, almost as badly as Mary Ellen, but he hadn’t really thought it would happen. Now, he was holding her, looking at her, and her mother was somewhere else entirely. It hadn’t been the perfect reunion, but it would be, he was determined of that much.

“What are you doing here?” Rochelle demanded.

“Looking for you actually,” he replied with a laugh.

She pulled her head from his chest and pushed back the straggling strands of hair from her face. “For me?”

“Your mom and I, we’ve been looking for you all day.”

Hope sprang into her eyes as they began to flit frantically around. She focused on Riley and Lee briefly before looking toward him again. “We were just separated,” he reluctantly informed her.

“But she’s okay?” she croaked.

“She’s okay,” he confirmed.

“And my dad? Is he with her?”

Al shifted uncomfortably. He couldn’t lie to the girl, but it wasn’t his place to tell her that her father was dead. Something in his expression must have said what he couldn’t though. Her face fell and tears began to slide down her cheeks, leaving a trail through the dirt and blood.

“Oh,” she breathed.

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head as she buried it against his chest. Al’s heart broke for her as he hugged her against his chest, the man had been a bastard but it was still her father. Baseball lowered his gun and began to approach with the younger guy right behind him. Al watched them, but he wasn’t overly worried about them anymore, and Riley and Lee still had their guns ready if the necessity should arise.

“Your mom is going to be so happy to see you,” Al told her. Rochelle nodded but didn’t pull her head from his shirt.

“Is he dead?” Riley croaked.

For the first time Al noticed that she was starting to rival Casper in color. He longed to connect with her, to steady her as her hand shook on the gun, but Rochelle was clinging to him like a monkey to a tree. “Riley?” he asked worriedly.

“Is he dead? Is the guy dead?” she demanded, her voice tinged with hysteria.

“You shot him in the head Ri,” Lee retorted. “Even zombies don’t come back from that. Nice shot.”

A low moan escaped her, Al recoiled and the two new guys jumped back as the gun she held slid from her limp fingers and clattered to the road. She spun away from them and vomited in the middle of the road. The younger of the two guys made a gagging noise as he turned away from the sight. Baseball cocked an eyebrow as Riley took a stumbling step back and collapsed onto her knees.

Lee forgot all about watching the new guys as he dropped to her side. He wrapped his arm around her as he awkwardly attempted to soothe her. “I was aiming for his leg!” she wailed. “Oh,” Lee said dully.

Al heaved a sigh as he glanced at her discarded gun and then back at Riley. She was young, not as young as Rochelle, but far too young to have been handed the burden that she would now have to carry. It wasn’t a burden he would want either. He’d thought her more experienced with weapons and the responsibilities that came with them. Instead, she was just a lucky shot.

Baseball walked over and snatched Riley’s discarded gun off the ground. Al took a step forward as his heart lurched in his chest. The amazement over reuniting with Rochelle had caused him to lower his guard, but even as he thought it Baseball knelt before Riley and handed the butt of the gun out to her.

“This may not be what you would like to hear Miss, but what you just did wasn’t wrong. Not in this world, not anymore.” He thrust a finger toward Rochelle. “What those men were doing was wrong. They were trying to take her, and I don’t have to tell you what they would have done to her if they had succeeded. They were going to kill us if you hadn’t come along.”

Tears streamed down Riley’s face, but she seemed to be regaining control of herself as she managed a small nod. The men held the gun more incessantly toward her but she continued to eye it as if it were a nasty spider. He took hold of her hand and gently wrapped it around the butt of the gun. “You saved our lives and I thank you. You are going to need this though, and with this world the way it is right now, and until you learn how to use it, I suggest you continue to aim at their legs.”

Riley blinked at him in disbelief and then a harsh bark of laughter escaped her as she seized the gun. Though she didn't seem entirely in control yet, she didn't look as if she was going to require a straitjacket anytime soon either. “I will.”

Baseball continued to study her before rising to his feet and turning to Al. “I’m Carl.”

Al shifted his hold on Rochelle in order to accept the work worn hand that Carl extended to him. “Al.”

“It seems we owe you a thanks also Al. You didn’t know she was with us,” Carl said with a nod at Rochelle.

It wasn’t a question but Al answered anyway. “No, I didn’t. We simply saw you trying to keep a young girl from being taken.” Al didn’t tell him that they had almost walked past, that they had almost decided it wasn’t their place to get involved, until they realized what was going on. He didn’t think he’d take the chance of ever just walking by something again. “How do you know Rochelle?”

“We ran into her, almost literally, in Middleboro.” The other guy stepped forward and offered his hand. “John.”

Al shook it briefly. “Nice to meet you both.”

“How do you know each other?” Carl inquired.

“We were neighbors.”

Carl nodded as he dug into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Al had quit smoking over twenty years ago, but even so he felt a flash of envy as Carl lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply. “Small world.” “So I’ve been told,” Al agreed. “And getting smaller.”

Carl snorted. “Appears to be.”

“Where were you heading?”

“Looking for her parents actually,” John answered. “You know where her mother is?”