Regeneration (Mad Swine Book 3) (13 page)

“We’re just going to let him get
patched up…use our resources…and then what?”

“I’m not worried about ‘then what’
right now. We can worry about that when we get Kat back.”

Brian came down the wooden steps, I
thought to argue more, but instead he said, “If we don’t get Kat
back, that fucker is mine.”

I stared at him for a moment, then
said, “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I can’t lose Kat. Not
now, not like this.”

The hardness I saw in his eyes
softened and he put his arm around me. “Ignore what I just said.
We’re getting her back for sure, dude. You know when I’m mad I just
say shit. You know, heat of the shit.”

I nodded and stood there, under my
brother’s wing. I felt like I was young again, just me and my big
brother against the world, and the world had nothing on us.

“So what did the bitch spill? Where
did they take Kat?”

I had planned to wait until Phil was
back, but it wasn’t much, so I told him what I learned. He did not
ask about how I got her to talk and I certainly didn’t volunteer
the information.

When I was done, he thought for a
moment, then dug a smoke out of his dwindling pack. As he lit it,
he looked at me and said, “I think we need to do this alone. If
they’re a small group, like she said, and we go rolling in with the
Calvary, who knows what might happen. No, we can’t risk that. We
need to go in quietly—”

“Like ninjas,” I interrupted.

My brother clapped me on the back
hard enough to make me cough. He laughed and said, “Yes, like
fucking ninjas, dude. Slice and dice and slip out the back door
with Kat. Enough said.”

And maybe we would be enough, but
what if we weren’t? What if we went in alone and we were
overwhelmed? I had no idea why they had taken Kat—they obviously
wanted her for a reason, perhaps to bargain with—but if we went in
there and were captured or killed, that might only anger them and
they might end up killing Kat, too.

When Phil arrived a few minutes
later, he had two large men and Sam in tow. As it turned out, the
two men came to transport the wounded man back to triage. Sam, on
the other hand, insisted she be part of the rescue party. I saw in
my brother’s eyes that he had no desire to try to talk her down.
Words would be futile. Phil also insisted he would join us. The
group was still small enough that we could move easily without
detection, but also with back up, if needed.

It took about half hour to get our
gear together. Brian and I would ride our horses while Sam and Phil
followed on a Kawasaki motorcycle. It was one of the few vehicles
that still had fuel and it was small enough to maneuver and hide.
Armed and dangerous, we left Randall Oaks and headed down the road
to Kappy’s, a place for which I had memories both fond and
melancholy.

No Quarter

My brother and I rode on the two
horses, our ears filled with the sound of hooves against pavement,
and the cold air stinging our faces and filling our lungs. With his
hair blowing in the wind, Brian looked like the typical hero on the
cover of any cheesy romance novel. The wide grin that spread across
his face both surprised and unnerved me. I had not seen him this
happy in a long time. But that grin made him look like the Joker,
intent on evil and mayhem.

Behind us, Phil and Sam travelled
together on the Kawasaki. Sam was behind the bars driving while
Phil rode bitch. When I glanced behind, I could see their
silhouette against the setting sun. I would not have traded places
with Phil for anything. Although I never had the pleasure of riding
with Sam, I’d heard stories about her fearlessness on the two-wheel
death machine. To her credit, though, she had never spilled, but
all the same, I was happy sitting astride this strong horse.

After ten minutes of hard riding, I
pulled up on the reins and came to a halt about a quarter mile from
Kappy’s at a point where the road came to a natural bend, hiding us
from view should sentries be posted around the building. Here we
would leave our horses and motorcycle, and then make our way up the
incline where we would have a vantage point overlooking a small
creek that Kappy’s backed up against.

I dismounted my horse and led him to
the guardrail where I tied his rein and Brian followed my lead. Sam
and Phil coasted silently to a stop beside us. As soon as the bike
halted, Sam swung herself off and engaged the kickstand. Phil also
couldn’t get off the bike fast enough. He hopped off the back and
bent over with his hands on his knees. He took a few deep breaths
before standing and readjusting the rifle slung across his
back.

“I’m walking back,” he said.

Ignoring him, Sam took off her helmet
and dropped it onto one of the handlebars. She stomped up to me and
demanded, “Why are we stopping? We need to get to Kat right
now.”

“Kappy’s is just beyond this
incline,” I explained. “We have to go the rest of the way on foot
or risk being spotted. We don’t know what we’re walking into and we
need the element of surprise.”

“We don’t know what they’re doing to
her in there—” Sam started.

“Stow that shit!” Brian shouted,
startling us both. He’d gone from grinning like an idiot to drill
sergeant mode without warning. “Check your equipment and move your
asses up that hill. Get your heads on straight and stop screwing
around.”

Without argument, we all followed his
order. At the peak of the incline, we lay in the brush on our
stomachs and surveyed Kappy’s. The sound of the rushing creek was
loud in my ears. Phil passed up a pair of binoculars and I used
them to glass the area. A line of motorcycles, about six or seven,
stood parked against the east wall of the building. Two pick-up
trucks and a horse trailer were parked against the fence that
separated the parking lot from the drop-off of the creek. No sign
of sentries patrolling the lot, nor posted on the roof.

All of the windows along the front
and east of the building were covered with newspaper and white
butcher’s paper. I assumed that the windows to the west and south
were likewise covered. We’d be going in blind, without knowing how
many were in there. The only advantage was that I knew the layout
of the interior of the restaurant.

“Gather round and listen up,” I said.
I pulled my knife from my sheath and used it to make a crude
drawing of the restaurant. “The front of the house is all tables
and booths and curves this way like an ‘L’. At the short end of the
‘L’ are two restrooms. Adjacent is a very small hallway that leads
to the kitchen and a small office and a private bathroom. Beyond
that is the rear exit.”

“So what’s our plan for entry?” Brian
asked. He stared intently at my drawing in the dirt, mulling over
his own ideas. “Breaching from the front is off the table. That’s
the largest area where the bad guys are most likely to be hanging
out.”

“Right. So that leaves the back
door,” Phil said.

“There’s one more option,” I said.
“There is access from the roof into the main office from the
closet. There is a ladder to the roof at the rear of the building.
We could enter through there first. The office is small so there
can’t be too many folks in there at one time. Once we’re in, we can
work our way to the front.”

“Can we all fit in there?” Sam
asked.

I shook my head. “No, but we’re not
all going in. We’re going to need you and Phil to keep watch out
here—”

“I’m not staying out here while Kat
is in there with those bastards. No way, I’m going in!”

Brian reached across my dirt drawing
and took a hold of Sam’s wrists. In his most gentle tone, which was
seldom heard, he said, “Sam, you’re too emotional to go inside. You
know that. Emotions lead to mistakes. We don’t want any mistakes.
Matt and I will bring Kat out. I promise you that.”

She stared at him for a moment then
her eyes slid to the ground for a second, taking in the drawing for
a few seconds before finally looking up at me. “Promise me you’ll
get her out. I want to hear you say it, too.”

“I promise, Sammy. We’ll get her
out.”

“What if something happens to you in
there?”

“If something happens inside and we
can’t get out, you’re our backup plan.”

“How long do we wait before we assume
something is wrong?” Phil asked.

“If we’re not out in twenty minutes,
storm the place. Smash in the front windows and shoot anything that
moves.”

“What if you guys are in the
cross-fire?” Sam asked.

“Don’t worry about hitting us,” I
said. “If you have to come in, it means we’re not coming out. At
that point, avenge us.”

Dragging her knees through my
drawing, Sam came forward and grabbed me in a bear hug. “You better
come out. You bring my Kat back to me.” She pulled back and took my
face in her gloved hands. “You bring her back. I can’t live without
her.”

Brian stood and pulled me to my feet.
“Let’s go before we lose too much light.” To Phil he said, “You
keep watch from up here. If you see anyone and need to engage, do
it from here, then move your position north. Watch your flanks. You
guys aren’t alone out here. Those creatures could be anywhere. Matt
said they keep them around and use them so keep your eyes
open.”

We shook hands with Phil and then we
each accepted another hug from Sam, then we were on our way. I
followed Brian north about two hundred feet along the incline that
circled around Kappy’s. After he glassed the area and was satisfied
we were alone, we descended to the creek bed and crossed on several
large stones that jutted above the surface. After a quick hop over
the chain-link fence, we took cover behind a horse trailer parked
closest to the fence, about forty feet from the rear of the
building.

“Those horses smell dead,” Brian
said. He pulled his scarf over his nose to mask the smell. He was
right about the smell. It wasn’t the pungent aroma of manure, but
rather the smell of rotting flesh.

He slid up the side of trailer until
his face was even with the barred windows. Suddenly, an arm shot
out between two of the bars, the mottled hand came just inches from
my brother’s face, the hand clawing at him, trying to grasp
him.

“Holy shit,” he blurted out and then
fell backward onto his ass in an attempt to get away from the
probing grasp of the crazy.

Standing now, I stood face to face
with what had once been a man. After six months, the thing truly
did resemble a creature. The hair on his head torn out in sporadic
patches. His skin color a light shade of split pea soup. The
thing’s cheeks both torn away, his cracked and chipped teeth
visible through the place where his flesh used to be. One eye was
milky white and rolled up into his skull, but the other still
functioned well enough. The arm that jutted through the bars and
reached toward us was half skeletal from the wrist to the elbow,
the exposed bone was cracked and yellowing.

On his feet again, Brian stood beside
me and we both stared at the crazy as it made low guttural sounds
and strained to reach us with its skeletal hand. Two others now
joined him, and several others stood now, alerted. More hands and
arms appeared between the bars of the horse trailer, hungrily
reaching for our flesh. Their unintelligible sounds, low growls of
hunger, were louder in chorus, much louder. The sound reminded me
of the sickening buzz of cicadas.

“We have to move,” I said and pulled
at Brian’s shirt.

He stood his ground a moment, unable
to take his eyes off the group of undead. “We can’t leave them
here.”

I looked up at the sky and took a
deep breath. “We don’t have time for this right now, bro.”

“Not now.” He turned his eyes to me
finally. “After we get Kat.”

“That’s a good boy,” I said and ran
across the parking lot toward the rear of Kappy’s. I didn’t need to
look back to know that Brian followed; I could hear the sound of
his boots against the pavement.

To the right of the rear door stood
the ladder to the roof. The metal painted bright red, the same
color as the roof tiles. The first two rungs of the ladder were
exposed, but the next six rungs were covered by a grated fence that
stretched up about seven feet, blocking the ladder to unauthorized
climbers.

Shouldering my weapon, I backed up a
couple of steps then ran forward and jumped, gripping the first
rung above the gate. With my feet scratching for purchase against
the grated metal, I pulled myself up enough to grab the next rung,
then the next, until I was finally able to get a foot on top of the
gate. From there it was an easy climb to the roof.

I hooked a leg over the side and then
dropped down onto the blacktop. As I unslung my rifle, I couldn’t
help but remember the last time I stood atop this roof, Kappy was
alive. I had used my SKS to take out several crazies that were
hanging out around the front parking lot. I remember the sad look
in Kappy’s eyes when I climbed back down. He was concerned by the
ease with which I killed, and feared that I took pleasure in the
act. And he’d been right then, but I wasn’t that same man. Not now.
Not anymore.

Behind me, Brian clambered over the
edge of the roof and came down beside me. He squeezed my shoulder
and I crossed the roof, about thirty feet before I dropped down to
my knees in front of the square metal stack. I pulled the metal top
off and set it down. From my hip pocket, I fished out a small
flashlight and directed the pale yellow beam down into the stack.
Although the battery was losing power and would need replacing, the
flash produced enough light to see the ladder was in the folded
position, just two feet down.

Brian’s big head appeared as he bent
over the stack for a better look. He felt around inside for a
moment, then tilted his head up so he could look at me. “How the
hell do we get this down without making noise?”