Regeneration (Mad Swine Book 3) (26 page)

“Parley,” Alvin corrected.
“Negotiation during time of war is called a parley.”

“Whatever, I swear it ends now if you
hurt him anymore.”

Alvin took a deep breath and let it
out in a long sigh. “Very well. So much for the pleasantries. Let’s
talk terms.”

“Give him nothing,” Brian mumbled. It
was hard for him to look up or to speak. His lips were swollen
twice their size.

Ignoring him, Alvin said, “What I
propose is a simple trade. Your brother for Tammy.”

“Tammy?” Matt asked, confused. The
last time he saw Tammy she was with Brian. She insisted on staying
with him at Randall Oaks.

“Yes, she was my brother’s…play
thing.”

“Don’t,” Brian said. He tried to look
up again, but could only manage to roll his eyes up in an attempt
to stare at his brother.

“Quiet!” Alvin yelled. He took
another deep breath in an attempt to quell his temper. “Please
remain silent. We are negotiating and you having nothing to
contribute to the matter. Now where were we? Oh, yes, I want my
brother’s traitorous slut in exchange for your brother.”

“If I give you Tammy, you’ll return
my brother. Is that correct?”

“You have my word,” Alvin said.

“And then what?” Matt asked. “You
just walk away from here?”

Alvin laughed now. “Of course not.
We’re just getting started here.”

Matt took another step forward now
and said, “Why don’t you just tell me what you want and stop
wasting our time here.”

“Now what’s the fun in that?” Alvin
asked.

“I’m not having fun, you sick
bastard. You called me out here, you wanted parley, so tell me your
damn terms.”

“So fiery. I like that, Matt. I
really do.” Alvin said. “Okay, right to brass tacks. What do I
want? I want everything.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Matt
asked.

Alvin smiled again and Matt thought
he looked like a serial killer. “I want Tammy. Then I want the
piece of shit that killed my brother. After that, I want this farm
and everyone on it. How’s that for terms?”

“You’re crazy,” Matt said.

“Far from it,” Alvin said. “I’ve
never been saner. I’ve never seen things so clearly. I’ve never
understood the world in the way I do now.”

“You said you want to parley, to
negotiate, yet you tell me you want everything, but offer me
nothing.”

“Okay, I see your point.”

“I think we’re done here,” Matt said.
“When you’re serious about ending this, I’ll be back.”

Matt turned to go, but halted when
Alvin said, “Don’t you dare walk away from me.”

Matt turned again to face the mad
man.

“If you walk away now, I will kill
every last one of you,” Alvin said. “Don’t mistake my compliments
for weakness, Matt. You’ve put up a good defense, and you might
just have what it takes to hold out a little longer.”

He paused for a moment, collecting
his thoughts. Finally, he said, “Do you know what I have just up
the road, Matt? I have more than one hundred men and women still
sitting in reserve. You think you’ve held your own against us?
Well, news flash, son, I’ve just been toying with you!”

“Bullshit,” Matt said. “You’ve thrown
your best at us and you’ve failed.”

“You’re a cocky little shit, aren’t
you? Well, let me tell you what’s going to happen next. First, I’m
going to send in two trucks filled with my pets. Let them have a
little fun with you, chew off some faces, gnaw on some bones. Then,
after they’re finished with you, I’m going to send my full reserve
right down this road, right into the heart of your little farm and
they’re going to butcher every last man, woman and child.

“
But not you,” Alvin said. “I’m
going to save you for last. I’m going to have fun with you. I’m
going to kill you slowly.
I’m
going to make you suffer, do you hear me mother fucker! Do you hear
me you little shit?”

“I killed him,” Brian said.

For a moment, both Matt and Alvin
looked at Brian, confused. Then Alvin asked, “What in the hell are
you blabbering?”

“I killed your brother” Brian
mumbled.

His hand snatched out cat-quick and
grabbed Brian’s chin and forced him to look at him. “What did you
say?”

“Leave him alone,” Matt said and
stepped forward.

Quick as a professional gunslinger,
Alvin drew the Dirty Harry-sized revolver from the holster, and in
one fluid movement, pressed the barrel against Brian’s head.

To Matt he said, “Back off.” He did
not wait to see if Matt would comply. Instead, he knelt down beside
Brian, the gun still trained on his head. “You killed my
brother?”

Brian nodded. “I beat him like a
bitch.”

Alvin was silent, listening.

“I stomped his fucking face…until it
looked like jelly.”

Alvin continued to stare at him in
silence, taking in every word.

“He cried like a girl and pissed
himself—”

Before Brian could finish the
sentence, Alvin stood suddenly and pulled the trigger. The report
from the handgun was massive; everyone held riveted by shock or
fear of what they knew would come next. The force of the round was
so severe that the entire right side of Brian’s face exploded, a
gaping maw of burned, mushed flesh was all that remained.

For a moment, Alvin looked down at
Brian, taking in every detail, then he looked back at Matt. Matt
tried to speak, but no words came; he was in shock, stunned. He
simply shook his head in denial.

Almost a full minute ticked away and
finally Alvin said, “I think we have a problem.”

Matt was the first to react. He
screamed, “No!” and raised his weapon, firing rapidly and blindly
into the group of men. His first shot took Alvin in the neck, and
the second slammed into his chest, knocking him back, although he
managed to keep his feet beneath him.

As his third and fourth rounds hit
other targets beyond Alvin, Matt turned and started to run toward
cover. He took no more than three or four running steps before
return fire struck him, taking him to the ground.

* * *

“Fall back!” Justin shouted. He fired
the AR-15 with one hand while dragging Matt with the other. He
managed to get about ten feet before taking a round to the leg.
Dropping to his knees, he fired the last of his rounds and
awkwardly fumbled through a reload.

Around him, the others were returning
fire. One of the women from Providence—a dark hair woman in her
forties—knelt beside him. “Go, I’ll cover you!”

Slamming his mag into the AR, he
nodded and shouldered the rifle. He stood, almost falling at first.
The pain in his thigh was excruciating, but he was able to support
his own weight. He grabbed Matt under his arms and started to drag
him again, toward the burned vehicle about ten yards away. Bullets
whizzed past, voices we shouting while others screamed in pain.

Nearly ten feet from the vehicle, the
woman who provided covering fire took one of Matt’s arms and helped
Justin drag him behind the husk of metal where they both collapsed
to the ground just as a barrage of bullets kicked up dust where
they stood just moments ago.

“It’s just us!” the woman
shouted.

“What?”

“The rest of them are gone!” she
shouted. “They’re dead!”

Justin nodded and shrugged the AR off
his shoulder. He handed to the woman and said, “Keep them off us as
long as you can!”

The woman nodded, taking the gun.
“Jessica!” she shouted.

“Justin!” he shouted back.

At least they would know each other’s
names before they died.

He scooted on his butt so he could
take a look at Matt. He knew Matt was hit, but he did not know how
badly until he saw the chest wound. The entire front of Matt’s coat
was soaked in blood. Shifting to his knees, Justin leaned over and
unzipped the coat, spreading back the flaps to get a better look.
What he found was a second wound, lower left abdomen.

Jessica was firing the AR now. From
their rear, he heard the sounds of other guns. Help was coming, but
Justin knew it was too late.

Lara fell to the ground beside him
and Justin watched with tears in his eyes as she lifted Matt’s head
into her lap. “He’s not breathing!” she sobbed. “Justin he’s not
breathing!”

Justin put a hand on her shoulder,
knowing there was nothing more he could do to comfort her. Leaving
her with Matt, Justin picked up her rifle and joined the fight. Sam
and Kat were there, so was Crystal, Randy, others Justin didn’t
recognize, firing, knowing full well that they were probably making
their last stand.

A small group of reinforcements was
enroot down the main road. Alvin said he had a hundred men out
there. Maybe he wasn’t bluffing. If only they could hold them off
here, they might still have a chance.

In the distance, someone was calling
for a ceasefire. Slowly, the sound of gunshots came to a stop on
both sides, a welcome silence after the abrupt chaos. “Alvin is
dead! We don’t want what he wanted. We just want some supplies. We
don’t care about the farm!”

“Bullshit,” Kat said. She sat beside
Lara, her arm around the grieving woman. “Give them nothing.”

“This might be our opportunity—” Sam
started.

“Nothing!” Kat shouted. She stood up
now and yelled loud enough to be heard by the enemy. “You’ll get
nothing! You hear me! You only deserve to die you piece of
shit!”

“We don’t want any more death but we
need food! We won’t survive out here!”

“Starve you son-of-bitch!” Kat
yelled.

“If you make us take what we want we
all suffer!”

“Come and get it!” Justin yelled.
“You die first!”

No response. That was not good.

Kat turned to the group, her scarred
face dirty with silt. “We don’t let them pass her, you understand?
No matter what, we stop them right here.”

Lara slid Matt’s lifeless body gently
to the cold ground. Taking up her rifle, she said, “I want them all
dead. Every last one of them.”

“Amen, sister,” Kat said. “Justin,
you hold them here. Sam, Lara, you’re with me. You ready?”

Sam pulled Kat close and kissed her
deeply on the lips. “I love you Kat.”

“I love you, Sam,” Kat said.

At once, the three women charged the
road, firing their weapons from the hip. Behind them, Justin and
his crew provided cover fire. Looking on at the women, his heard
sank as he waited for them to fall under a hail of bullets.

The enemy were surprised by the bold
attack and they lost precious seconds before they organized
themselves for defense. They never had a chance, though. As they
raised their rifles, suddenly gunfire erupted from the left flank.
Men and women, at least eight or nine, came out of the wood, firing
at the raiders.

The three women stopped their advance
and watched as one by one the enemy fell. In seconds the gunfire
ceased and in the silence of the aftermath, they moved forward and
gathered around the dead. Phil and the men who remained at Randall
Oaks came forward to greet them.

“We thought you were dead,” Kat said
and embraced Phil.

He shook his head. “When the first
bombs went off, Brian sent to hide out in the east woods. He said
he’d meet up with us and we’d wait there until they passed, then
we’d follow behind and hit them from the rear. He never showed, but
we followed the plan. Did he make it back here?”

Everyone was silent while Justin told
him what happened. As he talked, Phil slumped down until he dropped
onto the dirt. “Jesus, if we’d only been a few minutes sooner we
could have saved them. We could have saved them both.”

“Don’t,” Sam said. “Don’t take this
on you.”

“I owe them my life,” Phil said.

“We all do,” Kat said.

Again, there was silence. After a
while, Kat asked, “What do we do about the rest of them out
there?”

“Who?” Phil asked.

“The rest of Alvin’s men. Should we
regroup and muster our defense, or do we go on the offensive?”

“Kat, there’s no one left out there.
There’s just empty cars and motorcycles.”

“He said he had a hundred men,”
Justin said.

Phil shook his head. “Maybe he had a
hundred men. But they’re not out there.”

“You mean it’s over?” Jessica
asked.

She came to Justin and he put his arm
around her. “It’s never over.”

Regeneration

“…but according to His mercy He saved
us,

by the washing of
regeneration…
”

Titus 3:15

Wesley sat in one of several rocking
chairs that dotted the front porch of the main house, balancing
Matthew on his left knee and the thick journal on his right. He
rocked the boy gently, relishing the cool shade of the awning and
the shadows cast by the thick boughs of the enormous elm tree.

The morning was already a scorcher
and would only grow hotter as the day wore on. He wouldn’t be
surprised if the temperature peaked above ninety. There was a
general concern around the community about how the heat wave of the
last week might affect the crops, but Wesley paid little concern.
There were smarter folks than he that would work that problem.

“What happens next, Uncle Wesley?
Tell about what happened to my dad?”

Wes frowned. Reading this part of the
journal was always difficult for him, not only because he had
written it, but because it was still traumatic even with ten years
of good memories between then and now.

“You heard this story about a hundred
times. You already know how it goes, buddy.”

One hundred times was an
embellishment, of course. In the ten years that passed since the
battle for the farm, Wesley had read the stack of hand-written
journals all the way through only nine times since Lara had given
them to him. The first time, he read them alone. It took him a week
to finish. He cried for a long time after. Then, he picked up a pen
and finished the last chapter, finally ending the story.