Regeneration (Mad Swine Book 3) (4 page)

Wesley and Cody grew anxious, having
quickly taken to the farm life. Wesley had recovered surprisingly
well from the shock of our journey. In just several months his life
had gone from that of a typical eleven year old to one where he
suffered the loss of his parents and survived an incredible journey
where he endured more loss. Lara said he was young and could learn
to adapt better than the rest of us, and I think she was right
about that. He was also growing more curious about the creatures
that had killed his parents. He spent a lot of time with my
brother, Joshua and Kieran; the three young men were eager to learn
how to kill the things. Brian was more than happy to train them,
but he drew the line at assigning Wesley to patrols or any work
that would put him at any actual risk. We realized in this new
world we all had to contribute and we all had to learn the basics
to survive. That did not mean, however, that we had to send
children out to kill if it could be avoided.

Maureen also kept the younger
children busy with schoolwork. She spent her afternoons teaching
them reading and arithmetic, and held spelling bees on Fridays. She
also taught them how to read music and play the piano. Stanley
supplemented their education with history lessons and economics,
but the kids were actually most interested in his science projects.
Stanley kept them entertained for hours with simple projects like
growing salt crystals, making their own fossils, and the
ever-popular potato battery.

Wesley got along well with the two
younger Finnegan girls also. Karrie was twelve and Krista was nine,
and they were both rambunctious tomboys. Lara suspected that Karrie
had a crush on Wesley and she thought the boy felt the same way
about her, but they were both shy and awkward about icky
boyfriend-girlfriend stuff and much preferred exploring the barns
and making up grand adventures. As much as Wesley enjoyed spending
time with the girls, like most boys his age, he was fascinated with
Joshua and Kieran. He idolized the older boys and wanted to follow
them everywhere, and they didn’t mind if he tagged along. It did my
heart good to see him with kids his own age and I finally started
to feel good about the decision to move here.

Near the end of February a string of
mild days in the forties started to melt away some of the
accumulated snow and for the first time this winter, folks were
looking for excuses to be outside. Patrols started up again and on
the second night, Justin reported that the fence-line on the far
east side of the property had been damaged and possibly breached.
Early the next morning, I gathered a few of the group and headed
out to repair the fence and deal with any unwelcome guests that
were trespassing on the property.

Although I welcomed the mild weather,
looking forward to reuniting with the friends I left behind, I also
worried that the thaw would reanimate the crazies. Even during
winter, they were out there, but their level of activity severely
decreased. Unless you practically walked on top of them, they were
dormant, as if they were in some sort of hibernation. Once the
weather warmed, I feared they would swarm again as they did when
the outbreak first occurred. Our fences would not hold up to
hordes; a group as small as five could probably break through
easily enough.

Ian braked hard, bringing the tractor
and flatbed trailer to a jerky halt. The smell of diesel exhaust
disappeared almost immediately when he killed the engine. For a
moment, there seemed to be complete silence in the absence of the
obnoxious engine noise.

Over the last month, I only just
began to realize the vast extent of the Finnegan Farms. Originally,
I understood the farm had to be relatively large in order to
produce the variety of crops of which Maureen spoke, but without a
visual, my mind could not properly frame how much land. Kieran had
explained that the farm was nearly 400 acres, although he conceded
that much of it was brush or overgrown field. The actual land
farmed was closer to 200 acres, which included the hayfields and
cattle pastures.

As the six of us put boots on the
ground—and Cody set paws to the ground—I looked once again at the
hand-drawn map that Kieran had made for me. Based on his rendering,
we were near the extreme southeast corner of the property line,
just over a mile away from the main house. These far reaches of the
property definitely posed a logistics and security nightmare for
which I was still trying to find a solution. I didn’t like having
to send patrols this far out but it was necessary. Infected were
still getting onto the property and it was better to kill them
before they found their way into the crops or the back yard where
they could surprise you.

“
The fence is definitely
damaged,” Ian said as he swung out of the cab. His tall, wiry frame
moved with ease once he was out of the confines of the tractor. “No
wonder the
manky
bastard’s are getting’ in.”

“Now you’re suckin’ diesel,” Kieran
said. I still wasn’t accustomed to their idiosyncratic attempts at
humor, but I couldn’t help but smile when Ian gave him a stern
glance. The younger Finnegan just shrugged. “I’m just saying, way
to spot the obvious, old man.”

“
Don’t crack wise with
me,
boyo
,”
Ian said and picked up a pair of thick work gloves from the bed of
the trailer. He threw them roughly at Kieran who caught them
handily. “Go on and get to fixin’ the fence while the rest of us do
the work of real men.”

Kieran rolled his eyes and shoved his
hands into the gloves. At seventeen, that age on the cusp of
boyhood and adulthood, Kieran felt the need to prove himself at
every turn. Patting him on the shoulder as I passed, I said,
“You’re not missing anything but a mess. Take Cody with you.”

As I walked away, Kieran mumbled
something under his breath that I didn’t quite catch, but I’m sure
his words were unflattering. Then I heard him call out for Cody.
The shepherd dropped down from the flatbed and ran past me as I
jogged to catch up to the others who eagerly moved forward to
engage the group of infected that had breached the fence. By my
count there were six unwelcome guests moving aimlessly over the
grass and mud.

Although only a month had passed
since the white out—one of the worst snow storms I’d ever
experienced since I was a kid—it was unseasonably warm for late
February. Snow had already melted, leaving wet, muddy ground and
the infected had become more active with the change in weather,
which led to actively increasing patrols along the far reaches of
the property lines.

Brian was the first to reach the
crazies and within seconds, he dispatched the creature with two
quick blows from his machete. Although the remainder of the
infected was now alert to our presence, the men on patrol engaged
them with vigor. I stopped jogging, realizing that by the time I
reached them, the killing would be over.

With my axe over my shoulder, I
watched Ian kick an infected woman to the ground and then split her
head open with the end of his sledgehammer. Joshua, the youngest of
the Finnegan boys made his first kill—a particularly grotesque
infected man with one arm—while Brian swung his machete and
beheaded a teenage girl with filthy blonde hair. Meanwhile, Justin
took on two crazies at the same time, expertly using his twin
tomahawks to send them off to the afterlife.

I watched these men for a moment as
they waded into the fray and put down the creatures that had once
been human, just like them. I was both proud and saddened by the
ease with which each of them dispatched the crazies. I was proud
that these men had become warriors who would kill without
hesitation for the good of the community; I was saddened by the
fact that some of them seemed to have developed a fondness for the
killing.

I lit up a cigarette—a rare treat
these days—and nodded my head as Brian gave me a thumbs up to
signal all clear. Dragging deeply on the home-rolled cigarette, I
turned away from the carnage. I killed when I had to, but I no
longer had the stomach for it.

Kieran was already working on the
section of damaged fence. He’d cut away the section of ruined
barbed wire and was now working on resetting the wooden fence post.
Beyond, Cody was exploring the land, moving in arches, sniffing the
ground, raising his head suddenly as though her were listening,
then frantically sniffing a trail again.

I admired the young man and had taken
quite a shine to him over the eight weeks since we made this place
our home. Although not the youngest, still he was treated like a
child by his older siblings. He didn’t have the luxury of being the
baby of the clan, either, like Joshua, who was doted on because of
his age. Kieran had a sarcastic sense of humor and tendency to get
into trouble just to spite Ian. But the kid was smart, intelligent
beyond his years. He was a whiz at mathematics and was able to
teach Wesley algebra and geometry, making it fun and easy.

Kieran finally got the post settled
and was filling the hole with damp soil. Since the others had the
infected situation under control—and I wanted nothing to do with
the clean-up—I decided to help with the fence. I retraced my steps
and stopped at the flatbed trailer. Setting down my axe, I picked
up an extra pair of gloves and stuffed my left hand into one of
them.

Kieran had stopped shoveling and was
looking off into the field beyond. I followed his gaze and spotted
Cody standing ramrod straight, the hackles on his back rose. A
guttural growl rose from deep in his belly and he took a tentative
step forward.

“Cody?” Kieran called out to the dog.
At that moment, the dog charged a small outcrop of brush.

I saw the muzzle flash before I even
heard the gunshot echo across the open plain. I crouched and
instinctively went for my sidearm, withdrawing the 1911 from its
holster. In front of me, I watched as Cody flinched from the
report, turned, and ran in my direction. Behind me, I heard Brian
yelling for everyone to get down.

Heeding my brother’s advice, I
dropped to both knees and threw my unfinished cigarette to the
ground. On my knees, I leaned forward putting my face just inches
above the cool, damp earth. I peered under the trailer and saw that
Kieran was down, but he was lying on his back, not a natural
position for someone seeking cover.

“Kieran!” He did not respond to his
name and again I called out, more loudly this time. “Kieran! Talk
to me.”

For a long moment, the boy did not
respond. He lay unmoving, his face turned toward the overcast sky.
Behind me, Ian continued to call out to his brother, but even he
held his position—or was forced to—for fear of making another easy
target for the sniper.

As I looked on, Kieran’s hand moved
slightly and then his shoulders shifted as he tried to push himself
onto his forearms in an attempt to sit up. Based on the way he was
moving, I knew he’d been hit. I could see his body shaking from
exertion just to raise his head a few inches. Before he could sit
fully a third shot tore up a clump of soil just inches away from
his head and he fell back to the ground.

Springing up from the ground, I aimed
toward the small outcropping, where I remembered seeing the muzzle
flash. I traversed the distance between Kieran and me, firing four
quick shots of covering fire, trying to keep the sniper’s head
down. Instead, the bastard answered with two shots in quick
succession that tore up the ground to my right, missing me by half
a foot, maybe less, before I threw myself down onto the wet
grass.

Behind me, a volley of gunshots
erupted; Brian and Ian were now also firing into the tree line to
our south where the sniper most likely lay in wait. On elbows and
knees, I dragged my stomach across the cool ground and kept my head
low. I crawled the last several feet until I reached the downed
boy.

I put a hand on his shoulder and
whispered to him, “Kieran, where are you hit?”

Instead of responding, he lifted one
hand slightly from his abdomen; it was covered in bright red blood.
I noticed blood slowly oozing from his right temple, but quickly
realized that was just a flesh wound. The second shot must have
grazed his head.

Suddenly Cody appeared at a full run.
His paws dug into the ground for purchase as he came to a stop next
to me. He dropped to the ground, nudged Kieran’s ear with his wet
nose, then slowly licked the side of the boy’s face.

“Stop it, Cody,” I whispered
harshly.

A steady barrage of gunfire continued
as Brian and Ian took turns firing on the sniper, trying to keep
his head down while I helped Kieran. I pulled off my quilted
flannel and used it to cover the stomach wound and I immediately
began to apply pressure to stop the bleeding.

“That hurts,” Kieran moaned.

His face was waxen and tears ran from
the corner of his eyes. He’d lost quite a bit of blood already and
he appeared to be going into shock. His eyes started to roll back
and flutter and for a moment he lost consciousness.

“I need some help here!” I
shouted.

Without thinking, I sprung to my feet
with total disregard of the sniper. Taking hold of Kieran’s coat
with my left hand, I started to drag his body in the direction of
the tractor while I fired the remaining rounds in my gun in the
direction of our assailant.

I dropped the empty gun and took hold
of the boy with both hands now and picked up my pace. The tractor
was just twenty feet away. Cody ran beside us, weaving back and
forth. I was worried he was going to get under my legs and trip me
before I could pull Kieran out of the line of fire.

“Hold on, buddy!” I yelled at Kieran.
“We’re almost there, just hold on!”

I didn’t hear the gunshot, but I did
feel the impact of the projectile as it tore through my flesh.
Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in the fleshy part of my leg just
below my butt. I managed one or two more steps before the impact of
the round knocked me off balance and I fell, my head just narrowly
missing the wood frame of the trailer as I went down.