The Wild Ones, page 11
It seems the guy that went flying was good friends with Sorenson.
Well, I didn’t make it to the end of the day before I was approached by him calling me out and telling me he was going to smash my face, and if I didn’t meet him after the bell rang, I’d regret it.
Now you’ve got to understand something. I’m not a chicken. I generally won’t back down from a challenge unless of course there is a good reason. In this case it was my life we were talking about. I thought that was a pretty good reason. I’d seen how Sorenson had wiped the floor with others. They’d show up the next day with bruises, cut lips and even teeth missing! Truly this wasn’t the type of human being that did things by halves. Nope.
So what did I do?
Well, I knew there was no point in trying to run from him. At least if I got my ass kicked, I could hold my head high and say that I’d survived. I also noticed that Sorenson showed respect to anyone who was man enough to show up and face him even if they lost. So, in the hours leading up to the end of the day, I tried to pump myself up. You know, listened to a bunch of inspirational music — aka the Rocky theme. I know it was lame but hey; I needed an angel on my shoulder and I couldn’t think of anyone better than Stallone. Pity he couldn’t show up that afternoon. Thirty minutes before the bell rang I revisited the bathroom for the eighth time as my insides were doing flips. I splashed cold water over my face and slapped myself a few times while looking in the mirror. “You can do this. You got this. He’s just a kid. He can bleed just like you.”
Okay, I was getting desperate but like I said, desperate times call for extreme measures and I was about to face one of the greatest challenges in my young life.
In those final few minutes before the bell rang, the atmosphere changed in class. Other kids knew what was about to go down. Some looked at me with pitiful eyes, others patted me on the back and wished me a speedy recovery and others just stared. Not one, including my closest friend, had my back. If Sorenson had been an MMA fighter, he would have been considered the belt holder, the undefeatable, the pound-for-pound greatest fighter of all time.
The bell rang, and a cold shot of fear went through me. This was it, the last chance to back out. I could’ve slipped out the back door. Of course people would have seen me but no one would have judged me. Others had done the same. Hell, most of the kids in our school at one time or another had been called out by him, or received a whooping. I was no different. There was no way to prepare for this. Sure I could have learned from the mistakes of others, taken a few more karate or jujitsu lessons but I’d seen him go up against guys who were black belts in our town and still kick their ass, and that’s because it wasn’t what you knew, it was all about what you did, and in the heat of the moment even the best could crumble.
Which is exactly why I’m telling you this.
Of course any modern-day preppers would say they were ready but no one could know if they really were until the shit hit the fan. It was like military guys. The army was full of men who thought they were going to be the next Rambo overseas, and sure, many would go on to do heroic acts that could make grown men cry but those were in the minority. While every soldier received the same training, that training was useless if they froze in the heat of battle. Add to that being shot at, having IEDs blow up around you and seeing your buddy’s head get blown off, and it was enough to crush the hardest man.
I glanced out the window as Alexa and the others stashed in the back of the truck flashlights, batteries, food and clothing before we made the journey to the gun store.
My mind drifted back to that day.
“So, Evans, you want to back out?” Sorenson said eyeing me through slitted eyes. Behind him was a hungry crowd of kids waiting to see bloodshed. Sorenson always offered his opponent a way out. There was only one thing he enjoyed more than whooping ass and that was humiliation and he was damn good at that.
The crowd jeered.
“Fight him or quit. Come on.”
I shrugged and brought up my fists. Sorenson smirked and shook his head. Like anyone at the top of their game, eventually it all goes to their head and they buy into their own press. They think they’re undefeatable but what they don’t realize is that with every fight, they are getting closer to meeting that one person who would eventually see the flaws in their game. I’d studied Sorenson. Seen the way he battered kids with his meaty paws. To anyone looking on, he couldn’t be beat. There were no flaws. At least that’s what they thought. As he came forward, fists flying, hitting their mark with pinpoint accuracy, I felt each crushing blow and hit the ground. The crowd lapped it up, yelling and jeering.
But here’s the thing. The one mistake he made wasn’t in his ability to fight but in his need to be seen as likeable by those who looked on. How? Well, after giving a kid a good beating and knocking him to the ground, he would ask him again.
“You ready to give up?”
Every single time, once the kid had reached his limit, or was in too much pain, he would nod and Sorenson would extend his hand and lift him up, pat him on the back and the crowd would go wild.
I realized two things in those moments. When it came to throwing fists, no one could get the upper hand on him because his timing and skill was just too damn good, but that was because he had eyes like a hawk. Take away that and catch him off guard and he would fall like any other.
So, after giving me at least nine blows to the head and body and dropping me to the ground six times, Sorenson did it. His hand extended, and he repeated the same words. “You ready to give up?”
Now my mouth was full of blood, he’d busted up my lip badly and I was pretty sure I had bitten into my tongue so all I could taste was a swirl of metal. I nodded and clamped onto his hand. Just as he pulled me up, as the crowd chanted his name and he reveled in another win, I spat blood into his eyes and he staggered back trying to wipe it away. That moment of distraction was all I needed. I lunged at his waist taking him to the ground and began to bring down the hammers as fast and furious as possible. You could have heard a pin drop. No one had taken this kid down, nor had they landed a punch on his face, and here I was tenderizing his jaw like a juicy bit of steak. Now did I win? Ah, that was debatable! That kid had more tricks up his sleeve than Criss Angel but the fight went down as one of the best in school history, and I earned the respect of Sorenson. Never again did he call me out, and he would often give me a slap on the arm as we passed each other in the corridor, or would nod if he saw me across the room.
Now you’re probably wondering, what the hell has this got to do with an outbreak?
A lot. You see, what I learned about survival that day behind the hill was this… It wasn’t about being prepared, though that helped, but it was about what I was willing to do when others would have bailed. True survival was about digging deep, facing your fears and pressing forward even when all seemed lost.
I kept that memory in the back of my mind as I looked at the others. Many of them had been through the survival camp multiple times, Sean had even taught there but when it came down to it, all that meant nothing if they weren’t willing to bend the rules and ultimately face their fears.
Alexa poked her head back inside. “Scotty, we’re ready to leave.”
I turned away from the window and gave a nod. I glanced back one more time at Earl’s store and said thank you under my breath. Outside Ryland was having an argument with Sean.
“What’s going on?”
“Seems Sean has had a change of heart. He wants us to head back to camp.”
“That’s not happening,” I replied tossing a bag into the back of the truck. “We’re here to find my brother and Tobias’s father.”
“Look, I appreciate you saving us but have you taken a look down the street? Those skin eaters are out there in large numbers. We don’t stand a chance. This is suicide. I say we get back in the truck and head for camp.”
“Oh because that’s not suicide? How about you try phoning the camp? See if Rob or the other campers are still alive.”
“I already have. He is. No one has shown up at the camp.”
“Do I have to remind you of how many of the dead were on 28N? No, we are staying the course. Terry’s Gun Shop is not far from here. We need ammo. What we have right now is only going to get us so far.”
Sean shook his head and gazed down at his feet. “Evans, you don’t even know how to fire a gun.”
“I do,” Tobias said.
“So do I,” Jamal chimed in.
“Jamal, tell me, besides the times you’ve been at the camp, have you visited a firing range?”
“No.”
“I have,” Tobias said.
“I know you have but what about the others? Scott, Eli, Ryland.”
“Hey, don’t bring me into this. I know how to fire a gun.”
“Really? Cause you’ve only been twice to this camp.”
It was a mixed bag for sure. A few sessions on how to use a rifle or handgun at a survival camp didn’t exactly make someone capable of shooting safely or accurately but from what I’d seen there wasn’t much to it. Sure, gun owners could get real technical and anal about proper stance, grip and yada yada but at the end of the day we weren’t looking to shoot an apple off the top of someone’s head at a hundred yards. This was just about remaining safe, having a way to bring some of those suckers down.
“Look, we are wasting time, we need to go now,” I said hopping into the truck.
“I’m still in charge.”
“Sean, shut the fuck up,” Tobias said. “No one listened to you back at the camp, and we are definitely not listening to you now.” Tobias brushed past him and jumped in. “Let’s go find my old man.”
“I’m just saying it’s too dangerous.”
He was the last one to get in the vehicle. He held the door open, then hopped in and slammed it in anger.
* * *
The gun store was about four minutes down the road, just before the public library and up from the diner. Now that it was morning we could get a better sense of the carnage of the past two days. There were burnt-out vehicles and bodies scattered all over the road in various states of decay. We’d gone back and forth on whether to take the truck or not because of the noise it made but it was a great way to prevent getting bitten, and right now loading up on ammo was at the top of our list. The dead shuffled along as we drove farther into town. It was more scattered than it had been the previous night. As we got closer to the store, I could tell it wasn’t going to be of much use to us. The screen door had been torn off, the shutters were laying ten feet away with chains still attached to them. Someone had obviously wanted weapons badly.
“Pull over,” I said. “I’ll head in and take a look while you keep watch. Tobias, you come with me.”
“Oh so you’re the one in charge now?”
“This isn’t the time for a pissing match, Tobias,” I muttered hopping out and reaching into the back of the truck to grab the machete. I hurried up to the store that had bloodstains on the steps outside. I cast a glance down the road and could see Zs heading our way. They were the slow type, so I was confident it would take them a while to reach us. I tapped several times on the outside to check if there were any inside. When I couldn’t hear anything I entered, my boots crushing glass. “Oh great,” I said looking at the bare shelves. The glass desk which usually held boxes of ammo, was smashed and there was nothing left. Not even a small handgun. It had been stripped bare. We ventured into the back to check the storage area and empty boxes lay strewn all over the ground and the back door was wide open.
“Terry!”
No answer. A trail of blood led out, thick, wide and now dry. It disappeared into the woods behind the building. I hurried back and joined the others in the vehicle.
“Nothing?” Ryland said.
“They’ve had plenty of time to raid the store. Had we been here a few days ago we might have had better luck. Look, there is another store but it’s located across the water, north of here.”
“Well we at least have Earl’s,” Tobias said admiring the Glock. Sean was eyeing it, Tobias noticed and slipped it into the front of his waistband. “Let’s go then.”
As Tobias climbed into the vehicle and tried to slide past Sean, Sean grabbed the handle of the gun and a fight ensued. It was over in a matter of seconds when the gun went off. Tobias began screaming and Sean backed out of the vehicle.
“I’m sorry but…”
Blood started to soak through Tobias’s pant leg. He clutched it and was writhing around, yelling at the top of his voice. If that wasn’t bad enough, the sound of the gunfire and his screams were attracting unwanted attention.
“They’re coming,” Eli said pointing to a surge of dead making their way towards the gun shop. We might have been able to hold them off with the gun but Sean had that and he was still swinging it around.
“Get out of the vehicle,” he demanded.
“What?”
“You heard me. Now!”
Brooke got out. “Sean, don’t do this.”
“I told you we’d survive back at the camp. But if you won’t go, then I’ll take the truck.”
Jamal shook his head. “You can’t leave us out here. Tobias is bleeding.”
“I know and I’m sorry about that but you didn’t give me any other option. None of you are thinking straight.”
I looked behind me. The Zs were getting closer, growling and gnashing their teeth. Their milky eyes fixed upon us.
Sean looked psychotic, his eyes darting between us and the approaching dead. Brooke tried to plead with him as Jamal, Ryland and I tried to circle around Sean.
“Get back!” he said firing another round, this time near my feet. The ground tore up, and I stopped moving.
“Okay, Sean. Okay, calm down. We need to get Tobias to the hospital.”
He laughed. “Hospital? Do you think anyone’s going to be alive at the hospital?”
“For fuck’s sake, he’s bleeding out. Think of someone else for once.”
“I did,” he shouted, “but you all wouldn’t listen. If you hadn’t left, we wouldn’t be in this mess right now. This is your fault, Evans. You are just like your brother. You never listen.”
It was too late to argue with him as the dead were nearly upon us. I gripped the machete and prepared for hell.
Betrayal
I lunged forward jabbing the tip of the machete into the mouth of someone I knew. That was the thing, I recognized some of these people. I’d been to school with their kids. “There’s too many,” Jamal yelled.
Behind I could see Sean instructing Brooke to drag her brother out of the vehicle. She continued to try and get him to stop but common sense had all but vanished. All that remained was fear and self-preservation. He’d lost his mind. I wanted to help, turn back and attack Sean but there was just too much happening all at once.
“Back up into the store,” I said. Jamal was using a bat, and Ryland the crossbow to take out the fast ones. It was bloody and violent. One latched onto my arm with a meaty paw and I kicked him back while at the same time taking the head off another. Sean grabbed the pant leg of Tobias and hauled him out onto the ground before wrapping his arm around Brooke’s throat and pulling her into the truck.
“Sean!” I yelled but could do nothing. The slew of Zs were beginning to overwhelm us. We had to get inside and fast. Brooke was yelling as he physically clasped her by the back of her hair and told her to get in the truck or he would shoot Tobias.
“Get in or I’ll finish him off.”
Forced into the back, tears streaming down her face, her cries grew louder. Sean jumped in the driver’s side and jammed it into reverse pulling away and leaving us behind to fight the horde. I stabbed another in the eye socket and shouted to Alexa and Eli to drag Tobias into the store. The noise of the truck’s engine, the growls of the dead and all our yelling were bringing even more our way, and we had nothing more than a crossbow, machete, baseball bat and knives.
“Focus on the fast ones,” I said. “The others are easier to take out.”
Jamal was swinging wildly as we backed up to the door and one by one made our way in, slamming the door shut. “Hold that door while I close the back one,” I shouted.
“I already did it,” Alexa said.
“Grab whatever you can and push it up against the doors.”
Jamal and Ryland shouldered the front door, and even though it was now closed, the sheer volume of Zs pressing up against it was liable to break. Alexa hurried around gathering up leftover rifle straps, then used them to tie off the rear door. Eli shifted a sofa chair up behind it and then gave me a hand lifting a heavy chesterfield up onto the chair. Slowly, we stepped away from the rear and front doors and waited to see if it would hold. Hands slapping the windows and the groans of the dead was all that could be heard.
We used another strap to tie off Tobias’s leg. He was in agony gripping it and had already lost a lot of blood.
“We need to get him to a hospital.”
It was an hour away, northeast. The closest thing we had to medical treatment was a doctor at the Long Lake Medical Center, located about ten minutes away. To get there we’d have to retrace our steps back to 28N and hang a left at Hoss’s place but one look outside and it was clear we weren’t getting out of here anytime soon.
“Here, Tobias,” Alexa said coming in from out back with a cup of water. She brought it up to his lips, and he took a few sips. I’d never felt as panicked as I did in that moment. It wasn’t just the fact that Sean had driven away with our only ride, or that he’d taken Brooke with him, or even that Tobias was liable to die if we didn’t get him medical attention soon, but it was the lack of hope. There were hundreds of those things out there, and that meant the chances of Nick being alive were slim.
