Badlands Trilogy (Book 2): Beyond the Badlands (30 page)

The minutes passed slowly. They listened for clues, anything to let them know what might be going on outside their door.
 

Yelling from the hallway. The crack of gunshots in the distance.
 

A loud crash at the door. Startled, they all jumped.

“Trish…”

“It’s okay,” Trish whispered. But things did not sound okay.

Another crash at the doorway. Despite herself, Trish let out a quiet yelp. She pulled the boys in closer.

A third smashing of the door and it flew open.

“Come on!” a man yelled. “We’re taking this place back!”

“Who are you?” Trish asked.

The man smiled in the growing light. “Five minutes ago I was a prisoner. Not anymore.” He glanced down at Zach and Jeremy. “Meet up with the group outside and follow them.”

* * *

Ryan hardly heard the banging on the door. The gunshots barely registered and the explosion had been only a minor distraction.

He could only think of Beth.

His rock. His tether on reality. His compass.

Suddenly the door flew open with a loud bang. He stayed seated on the bed, staring at the wall.

The man in the hallway looked at Ryan’s face.

They locked eyes.

The man opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it. He walked away, leaving Ryan to himself.

Ryan hopped off the bed and stood. He walked slowly to the doorway and glanced down the hallway. People everywhere. The prisoners rioting.

He smiled for the first time that day as he stepped out into the hallway.

* * *

“Make a push for the armory,” Glenn ordered.

“But the prisoners, they own that courtyard out there,” Davidson said.

“Then take it back from them. Are you not armed?”

“We are.”

“Then if you’re not lacking firepower, maybe you’re lacking balls.”

“Sir, our men are already out there putting their asses on the line. I think we should pull back, regroup.”

“Are you making decisions for me?” Glenn asked, resting his hand upon the butt of his pistol. “Mutiny won’t be tolerated.”

More gunshots crackled in the distance. “No, sir. Not at all.”

“Good. Now get your ass back out there and storm that fucking armory.”

“Yes, sir,” Davidson replied before walking out the door.

No doubt the men were getting their asses handed to them out there. And with most of their weapons in that armory there was little they could do to evict the bastards who’d gained access.

But the men out there weren’t the brains behind the operation in Kansas City. Like any other war, the generals did the thinking, designing the strategies that won battles. Soldiers were like bricks in a wall to an architect.

He could get new soldiers, but only if he was alive. That left only one choice.

Opening up a cabinet at the far end of the room, Glenn retrieved a large backpack. He slung it on his back before retrieving one of his M16s. He checked the magazine to ensure it was full before replacing it.

His men no doubt fought a losing battle, but they’d at least buy him some time to escape. Then he could regroup, recruit a new army. A better army.

Sometimes in life, as in chess, pawns had to be sacrificed.

* * *

Glenn’s Jeep sat behind the faculty building, fully gassed and ready to go, right where he’d left it. The area had been deemed off-limits to everyone, including Glenn’s own men. He couldn’t have one of them finding out about his escape plan.

He tossed the backpack into the passenger seat and placed the rifle in the floorboard, barrel pointing down.

Gunshots ripped through the air, out of sight. Men yelling, some screaming. Part of him hated leaving this place behind. But his son, Matthew, still occupied St. Louis. Perhaps there he could regroup and recruit again.

He hopped into the cab of the Jeep, inserted the key and cranked the engine. The starter turned slowly until the engine roared to life a moment later.

Grinning, he dumped the clutch and slammed the gas pedal to the floor. The Jeep lurched. He crossed a narrow strip of overgrown grass before slamming into a gate in the fence. The doors flew open as he ducked behind the wheel.

Then he heard the screams.

Deadwalkers.

As he sped away from the building the infected gathered, he saw dozens of them bearing down upon the perimeter. For nearly a week now they’d been non-existent. Seemed the explosions and the gunshots had brought them out of hiding.

Just as well. A fitting end.

* * *

The smell of gunpowder hung thick in the air as Trish exited the building, holding both Zach and Jeremy’s hands.
 

By now Glenn’s men had taken heavy losses. Dozens of bodies littered the grass. Bullets tore across the courtyard as gunfire erupted from the northeastern corner of the building.

Then, over the crackling of gunshots and the whine of flying bullets, she heard a sound she recognized immediately.

Carriers.

She turned. Behind Glenn’s soldiers the infected streamed in, mouths open, shrieking with hunger and rage. There would be no making it to the armory before either the bullets or the carriers caught them.

She turned to retreat back to the safety of the residence hall.

Before her stood one of Glenn’s guards, rifle raised.

He pulled the trigger.

Trish crumpled to the ground.

“Twenty-nine,” Johnny said out loud. Another spent magazine. He ejected it and grabbed another, sliding a round out of the top to avoid a jam. With the magazine downloaded, he replaced it and slid a round into the chamber.

Returning to the windowsill, Johnny watched one of Glenn’s guards raise his rifle and shoot a woman in front of her two kids.

The man then pointed the rifle at the tallest boy.

Johnny lined up the sites and fired.

The man’s head exploded in a sheet of red.

Johnny’s face burned like fire.
Motherfuckers
, he thought.

He truly was killing vermin.

Then he saw the carriers roll in. They clawed at Glenn’s men, leaping and attacking, tearing flesh.

Johnny lined up shot after shot, letting the bullets fly. Prisoners continued streaming from the residence hall and Johnny did his best to pick off the deadwalkers before they could get to them.

He fired, keeping count in his head. He lined the M16’s sights on another deadwalker and pulled the trigger. The shot resonated with the distinct sound of the last round in the magazine. The walker fell a split-second after the sound of the shot.

“Twenty-nine”, Johnny said to himself, ejecting the empty magazine. He downloaded another and slammed it home. “Adios, prick,” Johnny mumbled as he picked his next target, pulled the trigger, and watched the bullet sail home.

* * *

Dave pulled the trigger and shredded a carrier headed his way. Beside him other former prisoners lined up along the first floor of the residence hall, firing their rifles through broken windows. Around him the barrage of gunshots assaulted his hearing as burnt gunpowder wafted through the air.

Above him, four floors up, Johnny picked off carriers and Glenn’s men, each with the same level of proficiency. On the courtyard, bodies fell, mowed down with indiscriminate aggression. Between the carriers and the hail of bullets, Glenn’s men didn’t stand a chance.

Suddenly a hand grasped his shoulder. He turned to see Gary standing behind him.

“I need you to come with me!” Gary yelled over the gunshots.

Dave shook his head. “Can’t it wait? We’re not done here yet.”

“It’s about a woman. Annette?”

Dave froze. “What did you say?”

“It’s about Annette. She’s here.”

* * *

“Apparently Calvin had her locked up. Somebody ran across her in one of the rooms,” Gary said.

Dave ran as hard as he could, rifle in hand, following Gary. His heart raced. Annette? Alive? Calvin had lied all along.

“Hurry.”

Moments later they arrived at a room near the end of a long hallway. Gary pointed at the door. “Go on in. She’s inside.”

Dave threw the door open and walked inside. Darkness filled the room.

“Where is she?” Dave asked.

A match fired across the room.

The door shut behind him.

A cigarette glowed in the darkness.

“Hello, Porter,” Calvin said from across the room. “I’m not sure whether to kill you or kiss you.”

An explosion sounded in the distance.

South.

Toward the dormitory.

Ed looked at Jasper in the dim moonlight, his eyes wide. Around them the streets lay quiet and empty.

“Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it when we get there,” Jasper said. “Right now, let’s get off these streets. My imagination is getting the best of me.”

Ed nodded.

The two men picked up speed, breaking into a fast walk as they covered the distance from the train station to the dormitory.

“Rand, can you give us a little light?”

Rand pulled back a curtain covering an eastern-facing window. Bright, early morning light spilled into the room.

Dave turned to Gary. “What the hell is this?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You sold us out? You son of a bitch!”

“You guys were going to get us all killed!”

“Gary, shut up,” Calvin barked.

Gary went quiet.

Calvin slowly made his way over to where Gary stood. “Dave’s right. You are a son of a bitch.”

“Wait…I did what you asked!”

“Oh, you did. I’m making no claim to the contrary. But Gary, you’re a rat.”

“No,” Gary said, shaking his head. “You promised you’d let me go if I helped you!”

“You believed that? You’re a rat. You can’t be trusted.”

“No I can be. I helped you. You can’t just-”

Calvin raised his pistol and pulled the trigger. Gary’s head snapped backward as the sound of the gunshot ripped through the room. He fell in a heap on the tile floor, blood pooling beneath him.

“Hope you didn’t consider that guy a friend,” Calvin said. “Because he sure as hell wasn’t.”

“It was all a lie,” Dave said.

“I know. I feel bad about that, but I thought you wouldn’t come otherwise.”

Dave stood, silent, lips pursed.

“You and this little…coup here. I gotta say, Porter, I’m impressed. I knew I was right about you.”

“You lost,” Dave said, his voice flat. “Glenn’s men are all dead. We’re just cleaning up the mess here.”

Calvin laughed. “Lost? Surely you don’t mean that, do you? On the contrary, my friend, I haven’t lost anything. In fact, you just did me a big favor.”

“What? I thought you wanted control of Glenn’s army.”

Calvin laughed. “Army? You call that an army? That pack of monkeys with guns? You still don’t get it, do you? Porter, this virus, it opened up every possibility in the world. It eliminated
The System
. Now all that’s left is chaos. Anarchy. Do you think my father’s system of rules would be any better than what we already had?”

“And your system will be better?”

“There is no system! That’s the whole fucking point!”

“You’re crazy.”

Calvin shrugged. “You haven’t seen crazy yet.”

“So what’s next? If you’re going to kill me just get it over with.”

“Come with me.”

“What?”

“Why not? What’s left here? Sheep, running around with their heads up their asses. You’re a leader, Porter. You proved that today.”

“I’d rather die than go anywhere with you.”

“Don’t let it come to that.”

The two men stood, silent, staring at each other.

Calvin sighed. “I had high hopes for you. I hate to see potential squandered like this.” He motioned Rand, nodding his head.

Rand walked up to Dave.

Dave’s body tensed.

Rand slammed a meaty fist into Dave’s face, knocking him to the floor. His jaw sang with pain as Rand brought a foot down hard on Dave’s ankle. The bone snapped with a sickening crack. Dave screamed, clutching his ankle.

Calvin grimaced. “Ouch. That’s gotta hurt.”

“You motherfucker!”

“Sorry about the leg, Porter, but you’ll understand later.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Dave said, still clutching his leg.

Calvin smiled. “Also, there’s one other thing I wanted to leave you with. And I want you to listen very carefully.”

Dave looked away.

“Your little girlfriend? All it took was a tiny cut. Right through the femoral artery.” Calvin grinned. “She bled out quick, if that makes you feel any better.”

“No,” Dave said, shaking his head. A tear streamed down Dave’s cheek as he gritted his teeth. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

Calvin sneered. “Again, sorry about the leg. But I need a head start.” He turned to Rand. “Let’s go.”

The two men walked past Dave, leaving him lying on the floor, nursing his broken ankle.

At the door, Calvin turned. “My advice? Head south,” he said, before disappearing into the darkened hallway.

* * *

Glenn sat in the driver’s seat of the Jeep, watching his empire burn.

He wondered how such a thing could have happened. Somehow the inmates had taken over the asylum, all under his nose.

It wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. More loyal men existed out there, he just needed to find them. Organize them. Mold them into a force to be reckoned with.

He reached for the keys.

Then a voice came from behind him.

“Remember me?”

* * *

Hours later Ryan left behind the bloody remains of a man who’d once called himself Glenn Summerville.

In the end the piece of shit had begged, just like they all did. They were all brave when they had others to do their dirty work. Inside, however, they were all cowards.

Ryan held the knife over his own wrist, blood from the dead man still dripping from the blade. He plunged the knife into his wrist and dragged it toward his elbow. Blood poured from the wound.

He sat down and stared into the darkness. Back when his parents had forced him to go to Sunday school, the preacher had told them all about Heaven. Probably all bullshit, but maybe, if it were true, he’d see Beth again.