Kim crouched behind the car door, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, drowning out the sound of the gunfire. She didn’t hear the bullets whizzing by her head or pinging against the metal of the cars that shielded them. The only way she even knew her own gun was firing was the way it kicked in her hands when she squeezed the trigger.
Malcolm had managed to take out two of the men in the back of one of the trucks, but the third had dove down into the flatbed, making himself a near invisible target. All they could see was his gun that he would fire off indiscriminately, keeping them pinned to the station wagon. Now they were forced to exchange meaningless fire with him while the others took care of the men in the other truck.
When her gun fired dry, she dropped down, her back pressed against the door as she fumbled to release the empty clip. She reached into the car and pulled a fresh clip from the bag sitting in the centre console. She took a chance to glance across the car to Malcolm, watching for a moment as he calmly and confidently took shot after shot.
They were going to make it out of this. They were all going to be okay and it was going to be because of him. She had to believe that Malcolm would get them out of this whole.
She moved back behind the cover of the door, loading the fresh clip and she glanced at Trey. He had his own gun propped in the window of the rear passenger door. The gun kicked as he fired, providing her cover as she reloaded. He had listened to everything Malcolm had taught him and for a brief moment, she was strangely proud of her son’s newfound talent.
She slammed the fresh clip home, leaving those thoughts behind as she prepared to join the fight again. She watched Trey, waiting for him to duck back down so she could take over. When he dropped down, she popped back up, resting her arms on the window frame and firing at the back of the truck.
“Keep shooting, I’ve got an idea!”
Malcolm’s booming voice drifted over her throbbing pulse and high pitched ringing in her ears. From the corner of her eye, she saw him rooting around in the weapons bag for a moment before he found whatever he was looking for.
“Everyone get down on my call!” he yelled at them and Kim saw something fly through the air and land in the bed of the truck. “NOW!”
She ducked down, her back pressing against the door, her arms covering her head instinctively. A loud bang and a bright flash went off, the acrid scent of smoke filling the air. She realised then that Malcolm had grabbed one of the flash-bangs from the bag.
She looked across the car at Malcolm, who moved quickly out from behind the door and approached the truck, lifting his gun and taking aim at the flatbed. He didn’t hesitate, pulling the trigger twice and putting an end to it all.
Kim held her breath as she listened for any more gun shots, not quite sure it could all really be over. It wasn’t until she heard Malcolm call out to Alan and he gave the all clear on their side that she exhaled in relief. It was over. They had all made it.
She practically tripped over herself in her haste to get to Trey. She threw her arms around him, letting out a sob of relief when he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tightly.
“You’re okay?” she asked when she pulled back to look him over, hands gliding over his face and arms to make sure.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” he replied. “You okay?”
She nodded and pulled him back into a tight hug, not ready to let him go yet. She turned her head to rub her cheek over the top of his head and saw Lorraine smiling at them across the back seat, blood dripping from her temple, down the side of her face and off her chin.
“Lorraine, you’re hurt,” Trey said and Lorraine seemed to finally register the blood, lifting a hand to touch her head.
“The glass from one of the windows must have hit me,” she replied, as she felt around her hairline for the source of the blood.
“Ugh, that looks bad,” Kim said, before turning to the other van. “Quinton, we need your help! Lorraine is bleeding!”
She saw Quinton round the van, heeding her call for help.
“No! Get down!” Malcolm yelled out but it was too late.
Before Malcolm had even finished the order, a single gunshot split the air and they all watched in horror as Quinton, now out in the open space between the vehicles, crumpled to the ground.
Subject File # 750
Administrator - Have you ever taken the life of an uninfected person?
Subject - It’s two months into the apocalypse. What do you think?
Administrator - That’s not an answer. Yes or no, have you taken a life?
Subject - Yes.
Veronica followed the sound of gunfire to where the trees thinned out and the clearing Jenny had mentioned began. She let her footsteps slow and Jackson followed suit, the two of them cautious as they took in the scene they spied between the trees.
Vehicles were parked at haphazard angles, the shooters on both sides of the fight using them for cover. She heard shouts over the gunfire and then a bright flash and loud bang had both her and Jackson closing their eyes. It took her a moment to realize that the gunfire had ceased around the vehicles.
She moved, ready to break through the tree line but a heavy hand on her shoulder kept her in place and she turned to glare back at Jackson.
“What are you doing?” she asked, trying to shrug off his hold.
“Think ‘bout it. They just got ambushed. You go runnin’ out of the trees, they might shoot before they know who you are.”
He was right. She ran out there, she’d end up with a bullet in her. No, she’d wait until things looked safe, then she’d call out to them, tell them she was here.
A shout came from the clearing and she looked over to see a figure in a familiar blue shirt come around one of the vans. It was Quinton!
She took a breath, ready to scream at the top of her lungs for him but before she could let it go, a gun fired and she watched in horror as Quinton’s head snapped back and his body hit the ground.
A scream ripped from her throat and her knees gave out, the only thing stopping her from hitting the ground was Jackson’s arms slipping around her waist. She had been so close, only a couple dozen yards away from him. How could this happen? How could fate be this cruel? It was destroying everything she cared about right before her eyes.
Rage swamped her and with a strength she didn’t know she possessed, she threw Jackson off of her. Someone had fired that shot and she needed to hurt them. Suddenly her anguish was pushed to the back of her mind, the anger taking over and focusing her. The trajectory of the shot meant that the shooter was in the same woods as her, possibly only a few yards east of her.
Without a word she shot off in that direction, hr rifle held tight in her hands. She didn’t stop when the figure of a man crouching in the underbrush appeared before her. He was already pulling back the bolt of the rifle to take another shot but her arrival distracted him. He looked up at her wide eyed as aimed the Bushmaster at him and squeezed the trigger.
The semi auto riddled him with bullet, sending him down on the ground but she didn’t stop her approach. She loomed over him, staring down at his lifeless eyes but it wasn’t enough. He hadn’t
paid
for Quinton’s death.
She screamed as she brought the butt of the rifle down on his face. The sickening crunch of bone shattering sounded and blood sprayed up at her. Except, instead of satisfying her, the first blow merely fuelled her rage and she began to bring the rifle down again and again. Her screams turned to sobs, tears streaking down her cheeks and mingling with the blood that was spattered over her face.
The sudden sensation of hands on her shoulders had her howling, rearing back and taking a wild swing at whomever was behind her. She made no contact and her swing tipped her balance, sending her rolling off the man. She scrambled to right herself, ready to take on her next opponent but through the red haze of anger, she recognized Jackson standing there, hands held up in surrender.
“Veronica, ya gotta stop, the guy’s dead,” he said, his words steady and even. She looked over to see that indeed the man was dead, his body still, a bloody mess in place of what had once been his face.
An anguished sob tore from her and the rage inside her faded away, leaving her an empty husk and she collapsed, curling in on herself as she began to cry.
“Veronica, ya gotta get up.”
“Come on, woman, ya gotta stop this.”
“Veronica, he’s okay. Your brother’s okay.”
She pushed herself into a sitting position, her anger coming to life once again as she glared hatefully up at Jackson.
“Don’t lie to me! He’s dead, I saw it!”
“I ain’t lyin’ to ya. Just watched ’im get up and stumble for cover under a table.”
She finally registered that Jackson wasn’t looking at her. He was looking in the direction of the camp and he had a smile on his face. She scrambled to her feet and followed his line of sight, gasping when she saw the ground where Quinton had fallen empty and a flash of a blue sleeve under the nearby table.
Her hands covered her mouth as laughter bubble up uncontrollably. How was it possible? But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered as long as he wasn’t dead. She needed to get to him but Jackson had apparently already thought about that, moving to wrap his arms around her waist to hold her back.
Before she could fight against him, she felt the tickle of his beard against the shell of her ear. The sensation of his warm breath ghosting over her cheek somehow grounded her, letting her take control over the roiling emotions inside her.
“Call out to ‘em. Tell ‘em ya took out the sniper.”
“The sniper is dead! It’s Veronica! I want to come out and see Quinton and Claudia!”
She held her breath as she waited for the response, fingers digging into his arms.
“Come out slowly. I see anyone ready to take a shot and you’re dead!” was the response that reached them.
She dropped her weapons on the ground, willing to take the risk of walking into this unarmed. Jackson’s arms dropped from her waist and she looked back to him and he nodded towards the clearing.
She walked slowly, hands up in the air as she came out into the clearing. She could see several guns aimed at her from behind the vehicles but her eyes were only on the table in the distance. She watched Quinton climb from underneath it, his haste slowing him down as he struggled to his feet.
“Veronica!” he called out and that was enough to make her disregard what she had been instructed to do. She took off at a frantic run, quickly eating up the ground between them and throwing herself into her brother’s arms.
He was really here.
He was really
alive
.
Hysterical laughter bubbled up along with her tears, her frayed emotions going haywire as she clung to him. Quinton had to force her back from him so he could look her over.
“The blood?” he said, his hands ghosting over her neck and shoulders, searching for the source of the blood covering her.
“It’s the sniper’s,” she told him, lifting a hand to the gash above his ear where the bullet must have grazed him. “Asshole was a bad shot I see.”
“Scared the shit out of me more than anything,” Quinton said with a wry smile.
Relief swamped her and she hugged him once again, not wanting to let him go now that she had him back from the dead. But then a thread of darkness wiggled its way into her thoughts and she tightened her grip on him.
“What about Claudia? Is she okay?”
She felt Quinton’s chin bump the top of her head as he nodded. “She’s in the station with the kids, safe and sound.”
She let out a shuddering breath, catching on the lump of emotion that constricted her throat once again. “I didn’t know if I’d ever find you.”
“Speaking of which, how did you do it? Those men said that Travis died in a car crash.”
“I survived the crash and fled on foot. I ended up meeting a man and his girls. The man, Jackson, he came with me to help you guys.”
She turned back to the tree line and called out for Jackson to join them but there was no movement among the trees. “He must have gone back to the road. We left the girls there with Jenny.”
“She’ll bring them back to the camp,” Quinton said. “Come on, let’s go see Claudia.”
Subject File # 745
Administrator - What do you think your role is in the group?
Subject - The muscle, I guess.
Administrator - Do you see yourself as a vital part of the group?
Subject - Don’t know ‘bout vital but I suppose I earned myself a place with ‘em.
It wasn’t just Jackson’s concern for the girls that put his feet in the direction of the road. Seeing Veronica falling apart as she embraced her brother…that was a private moment and he didn’t want to intrude.
At least that’s what he told himself as he picked up the weapons and headed back to the road. It had nothing to do with the ache that had started up inside him watching the family reunion. And that ache wasn’t envy over her having a family when he never had one. No way it could be that.
He pushed the thoughts away when he spotted the van. It was where they had left it, Jenny seated in the driver’s seat, rifle poking out the window.