After Effects
From atop the guard tower, Jack could clearly see that the northern town of Erie had finally been hit by the infection. It had taken a while for it to catch up to the eastern side of the country, but now it was finally hitting it in full force. If he listened close enough, he could almost imagine hearing the sounds of terrified and dying people that were guaranteed to be scurrying away from it.
Exhaling deeply, he turned around to give a nod to the "soldier" standing behind him. He let a chuckle escape from his lips when he realized what he had classified the former prisoner as. Indeed, if you didn't pay any attention to the details, the man standing in front of him looked very similar to a soldier you would see, or would have seen, on the news only a few weeks before.
This man was not a real soldier of course. In fact, he probably wasn't even a respectable man. He had come from the same place Jack had only a week before: a prison. At an earlier time, this man was locked up in a cell deep inside a rather defensible jail. Of course, if it had indeed been a defensible structure, this man wouldn't be here. It seems as though all of the thought that had been put into making the facility impenetrable to malevolent humans was wasted when it came to this new enemy. Razor wire, it seemed, did not work on the already dead.
Grabbing a hold of the metal ladder, Jack made his way back to the ground. Ladders had always made him a little nervous, but that was something entirely different then the situation he was in currently. These men, most of them anyway, were entrusting their lives to him. He had helped them escape from their former prison, he had led them onto a spree of looting that none of them had ever experienced, and he helped them find safety in this abandoned military facility. In it, they had found old uniforms, manuals, and more importantly, food and guns. Most of the almost grey-white military uniforms, the ACU, had been tossed aside for camouflage that the men thought more practical. Most chose hunter's camouflage, or some other type of woodland pattern.
To Jack though, it didn't matter so much what they had found, it was how they were going to use it. The weapons they found, assault rifles and handguns mostly, were only useful as long as the ammo held up or if any living thing thought they were still loaded. To compound this disadvantage further was that the men had not even a speck of training in using them. The hits they had scored on a small convoy only a day before had been with hunting rifles, ones that many of the men, even Jack, had experience with. The only one with any kind of skill so far was Jack's former cellmate Benjamin, who seemed to excel with scoped rifles.
His feet making contact with solid ground below, Jack was brought back to reality once he heard a cheer emanate from deep within the facility. Something was going on and it was probably unpleasant for anyone unwilling to accept the truth of the new world. Thinking of the number of people he had brought back with his incursion group, he knew that the ex-prisoners were most likely going to be taking advantage of them.
Taking a look around the base he had commandeered, he scanned the six barracks and other general buildings that ran a half circle around a parade ground that occupied the center. The watch towers, all eight of them, ran around the edges of the small compound. In front of those were fences strung with razor wire at the top. Jack knew that these defenses would have to be strengthened should they ever come under attack by forces living or dead. Jack disregarded that last thought, they were going to be attacked eventually and there was no denying that.
He stepped away from the ladder and made his rounds around the camp fences. He made sure that no holes existed in the metal rings or any other weak spots. As he did this, he also scanned the tree line for any movement, any sign that something was out there. He was not going to be surprised.
When he finished, he made his way past several groups of chatting inmates and stood in front of a two story building that sat at the very end of the half circle. He took a glance at the brick structure before pushing open the door and stepping inside. He found himself in a small room with another door and a window similar to those check-in counters at the doctor's offices. The army couldn't let just anyone in after all.
He pulled out a key that was hanging on his belt and unlocked the other door, this one made of a solid and cold metal. He heard the lock click and pushed it open. When he was in the new room, he made sure the door behind him was locked; he didn't want anyone in here without his permission. Rows of lockers filled his vision, lockers that held various arms and munitions. From M16 assault weapons to M9 handguns, this place had it all stored. Unfortunately for them however, it seems that whoever manned this place before them had taken a large portion of the stockpile with them. Many of the lockers were empty and the ammunition looked like it was low.
The thought of the military reminded him that the TV's were still running the news. He turned to his right and found the door that led into the check-in office. A small TV was sitting on the desk, positioned so that he could watch both that and the door. He sat down in a metal chair and took a look around to the boards that hung on the wall around him. There were various posters detailing the procedure for weapons check and drills, along with reminders that they were role models to the civilians. He ignored this and turned back to the TV. Pushing a button on the front, he watched it flicker on to reveal cartoons. Finding the button to change the channel, he only had to press it once.
"-are no longer taking refugees from the United States, claiming that they cannot risk infection." The man on the screen was not composed. He wasn't even in a news station. Instead, it looked like he was inside of a tent, being rained on. His face was glared by a spotter's light, meant to make him more visible but instead adding to his apparent misery.
Jack wondered how long civilization was going to hold up under this kind of stress. It was slowly breaking apart, drifting away from what it once was. But some of the little things were still there. Electricity was still running, for the most part, and water was still flowing through the taps. This, however, was probably not going to last long. He entertained some thoughts about how they were going to survive before the newscaster began speaking once more.
"The Canadian government seems to be posting military personnel on the other side of the blockade and the last evacuees left over two hours ago." The camera swiveled to a view outside of the tent, where, in the distance, figures could be seen standing ominously in the morning light. "So far, the few that have attempted to cross the border have been turned away and we are not recommending that anyone try." The view zoomed closer to a few soldiers who were crouching low to the ground, seemingly tinkering with something. A few other groups were doing the same.
"So far, we haven't been able to get a direct comment from the Canadian government, but we have gotten scattered reports of conflict between Canada's armed forces and our own military." Jack whistled, not expecting something like that to happen. Then again, he had never really expected the dead to rise.
Not wanting to believe what was happening on the TV, he would sit there for another half hour trying to weed out facts from exaggerations until he heard the frantic sound of a fist pounding against the front door.
"Stop hitting it!" Dave screamed in frustration. He pulled the front door open and the dead man stood there dumbly. "What?" He asked, still furious. "What?"
It had been knocking against the door since the minute Dave had locked himself in the house. Having ignored it for the past half hour or so as he searched for anything he could use, it finally sent him over the edge.
The dead man didn't say anything. It only stood there on the porch staring at him. In Dave's hands was a baseball bat, something he had found in a room upstairs, and he almost considered raising it to strike the thing down. He didn't though. He didn't have the energy. Reaching behind him, he grabbed a bag full of cereal and pushed it aside, walking back out into the street.
There were more outside. He shook his head, knowing the dead man had attracted them all. Like always, they put their arms out to reach him and he shoved through them. He turned his head to see the dead man still following him, but not as easily.
When he made it to the car, he pulled open the driver's door and tossed the bag inside. He looked up to find the dead had surrounded him. They pawed at him and the vehicle and he pushed them away. Then he heard a car door open and turned to see the the dead man from before stumbling into the passenger's seat.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Dave yelled. He rocked the car to try and dissuade it but the thing was staying put. He dipped his head into the car.
"Are you serious?" He asked, not expecting an answer. The dead man looked at him and said nothing. David shook his head. He was about to get in when the other doors opened. Two more of them were trying to get inside.
"No. He said. "No!" But they were already inside, crammed in sideways like they weren't entirely sure what they were doing. He pounded a fist on top of the car and slammed the door shut on them. Now he'd have to drive with the windows open.
He sat back in the driver's seat and closed the door. Immediately, he wanted to gag. They smelled horrible. He gave a look to the dead man beside him but knew it was useless. He sighed, and the dead man wheezed.
Dave took a moment to really look at the dead man. He had been following him for the entire day and he couldn't figure out a reason why. It was wearing a suit that had tears in the elbow and hair that was short and messy. Dave wondered what the person had done before dying. It looked young.
He noticed a bulge in its front pocket that had to be a wallet. Gingerly, Dave reached in and fished it out.
"Don't mind me, Mr. zombie." He said. The dead man wheezed.
He opened up the leather wallet and wasn't surprised that there was no money inside. There were two credit cards though, and an I.D. Dave fished it out. It had the face of a young, clean cut man with a smile. Twenty-two years old. George Clemens.
"Well, Mr. Clemens. It's not very nice to meet you."
Dave reached around to grab his seatbelt. He clicked it into place and pressed the gas.
Once he was clear of the horde, the few zombies that had actually managed to find a foothold in the back of his car made themselves comfortable. Some of them had fallen out as he was driving and, since none of them knew how to ride in the car right, the doors were still hanging open. Dave pulled over to the side of the suburban road and got out to close them. He decided to let them come along after all. He didn't know what he would use them for, but maybe they could come in handy somehow.
Getting back inside the car, he turned on a random street. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he just needed something to orient him. He continued to drive through the suburban areas. Once and awhile, he would see a zombie wandering the streets or pounding on a door, but it seemed as though they weren't in the area. Dave wondered if they were all concentrated in the more densely packed parts of the city. If that was true, then this area would continue to be fairly clear until they found a reason to migrate from the city.
Dave turned another corner and spotted a few wrecked cars in the middle of the street. The streets had been relatively clear, which had been strange considering he had seen how bad it could get. He slowed down as he passed by them and looked for anything useful. He might as well salvage whatever he could find.
As he pulled to the side of the road again, he looked to the zombies huddled in his car. They had managed to stuff about four of them, not including Clemens, in his back seat.
"Stay inside." He ordered, confident they would just get out of the car anyway. He turned the car off and got out, the sound of the closing car door echoing in the empty streets. Across the street from him, a local grocery store stood with its lights still on. After he was finished with the cars, Dave decided that he was going to look in the store. But if the evacuation had ended like the one in his area, there wouldn't be much left.
Immediately, he could tell that the outcome of this crash had not been good. The driver was still in the seat. Thankfully for him though, he was just dead. Not undead, just lying still forever dead. Dave never found himself to be a religious person, but he uttered a silent parting to the man in the seat and decided that he would check the other car first.
The way the cars had collided, they both sat directly in the middle of the intersection. It had been a head-on crash. Apparently, this hadn't stopped the other driver from getting out of his car; there wasn't a trace of him to be found, save for a few blood stains. Dave pushed the driver side door open and climbed into the seat. The airbag had deployed, which was good, but Dave was sure it hadn't saved the driver from serious injury. He flipped through the overhead mirror in search of something he could use. He found a few pictures of a pretty girl, an unpaid parking ticket, but nothing else. Leaning over the passenger seat, he pulled the glove box open and watched as a mess of papers escaped onto the floor. He picked through them and found a few melted candy bars, a set of keys to something he didn't need, more unpaid tickets, and receipts to fast food joints.
Not surprised that he hadn't found anything, Dave felt underneath the dashboard for the button to pop the trunk. He felt a satisfying clunk as it opened and he got back out to walk around the rear of the car. He lifted the lid and found a few suitcases. One was locked with a combination so he tried the other. It was filled with clothes and a few personal effects; nothing he could use. Sighing, he closed the trunk and walked back to the car with the dead man. There, he walked to the passenger side and opened the door. He rifled through the glove compartment and found it almost to be in the same condition as the first car. He gave up searching altogether.
Dave felt bad for having to try and salvage what he could from the dead. It wasn't something he could get used to. Sure, raiding homes was easy when no one was home, but having to search for things in the presence of their former owners filled him with guilt. Once again, it twisted his thoughts, making him theorize what brought this infection upon them. He briefly wondered if the government had anything to do with it, then dismissed the idea because he realized how crazy it sounded.
With nothing found in the cars, he set his sights on the grocery store. Dave crossed the deserted street and made his way through the automatic doors. Isles and isles of cleared shelves greeted his eyes, and his frustrated growl echoed in response. He knew it would be like this.
As he walked through the isles, he stepped over trash and debris that lay on the floor where people apparently had scrambled to get what they could and run. Carts sat overturned in the entrances of isles and in other places. From what he could see though, no one had been killed here. No blood pooled on the floor and no bodies wandered around, searching for their next meal. It made Dave glad that he had left the two cars behind.
"Hello?" He said to the empty air. His voice pierced the air in an otherwise silent store and it sent an odd shiver down his back. Usually these places bustled with life. Now, it was barren and deserted. He compared it to his own store, where only a few weeks before, he had worked and shopped at. As he walked, his feet made a hard clapping sound as they made contact with the hard floor. It sounded loud to him and made him wonder if anyone else was in here.
He continued walked through the isles and found that not everything had been taken in the initial surge of panic. He could always use more supplies, so he walked back to the front door. Making his way back to the car where the undead still waited for him, he was surprised at their patience; they were still waiting inside the car.
He ignored them for the moment and got back in the driver's seat. Turning the key, he felt the engine start and he pushed the gas pedal down. The undead in the back surged slightly when they saw that he was back. They groaned their approval and became more active, squirming in their seats. It made Dave nervous, their behavior. He quickly moved the car to the front doors of the store and got back out. He moved to the back and opened the doors, allowing the zombies there to get out. He couldn't get his bags while they sat there.
"Get out, zombies." He ordered, pointing away from the car. They gave him a strange look but stayed where they were. "I said get out." He said, this time louder. A tingling started in his head. This feeling scared him. He didn't know where it came from and he rubbed his eyes. When he opened them again, the zombies had begun clamoring for the door. Dave took a step back and opened it for them. Stiffly, they began climbing out. He stared at them as they almost lined up for him. He bit his lip, unsure as to what he should do. After a moment of silence, they began a soft moaning and Dave saw several of them begin drifting away.
"Where-" He cut himself short and decided that is was probably better to just keep moving. He leaned inside the car and grabbed his bags. While he was doing so however, he saw that Clemens hadn't moved from his spot in the passenger seat.
"What the hell are you, some kind of rebel?" He said to the zombie. "Get out of the car like everyone else." Clemens didn't necessarily have to get out of the car, but when all of the others had, it left him unnerved to see that he was acting differently. Like the others, Clemens began the process of leaving the car. He was faster than the others in the sense that he apparently knew how the door worked, but he still struggled. The zombie got out and stood next to him patiently. The dead man could get out of a car by himself, but he couldn't figure out to open a regular door.
With his car empty, he shut the doors that the others hadn't closed themselves and moved around the car so he could re-enter the store. The others followed behind him now that he was doing something different. He heard them gurgling and moaning behind him as he began his task of grabbing cans and bottles off the shelves. He managed to fill up one bag with non-perishables and hoped once more in his mind that these bags wouldn't end up like the other ones he had tried to gather.
As he made his way into the meat department, he was hit by the stench of rotting meat. He should have known better then to try here. Even though power was still on in the store, no employees were here to store the meat products. In truth though, it had a similar smell to the zombies following him around so it didn't bother him as much as it could have.
He continued through the store and eventually made his way back to the front. With one bag completely full and tied off, he sat all three of them next to a bench, and then sat down himself for a rest. The five zombies stood idly around him, swaying in the invisible breeze and groaning softly. Dave turned to look outside so he didn't have to stare at them. He examined the neighborhood he was in and tried to imagine it before this outbreak. Homes sat still and dark, no movement from windows or alleyways. He tried to picture families going about their daily business, but in the end he could only see the vacant shells they had become.
Just as he was beginning to relax, a jeep came rolling down the street. It surprised Dave, as he believed that everyone had evacuated from this place. Not everyone could evacuate though, so maybe these were survivors! Dave jumped from his place on the bench, sending the zombies around him back. This was his chance to get back with other people, maybe even to find out who took his friends. But that thought made him stop. What if these men weren't out for his best interests? What if these were those men? As their jeep slowed to a stop next to his car, Dave saw the camouflaged men get out heavily armed. Instead of walking out like his original plan, Dave ushered the zombies away from the front and grabbed his things. They were bound to try the grocery store.
"Go you stupid zombies." He whispered harshly, forcing them through the store. He thanked whoever was watching out for him that the store front wasn't made of glass windows like his had. As long as he kept from the entrances, they couldn't see them. As he was coming up with an escape plan, he realized that this store probably had a back storeroom to it like his. He pushed the dead through the isles until he came across a pair of swinging doors with a sign that read "authorized personnel only". He forced the dead in and stopped to look through the small plastic windows on the door. He had a broad view of the store from here, but he didn't want to stay too long. The plan so far was to just see if those men were going to enter the store or not. A minute later, he got too jittery and decided that it was better to just leave.
As he made his way through the back of the grocery store, he realized that he didn't have to bring the zombies with him. In fact, he wondered why he had done so in the first place. Either way, he was going to leave this store with or without them. He didn't want to stick around with those men outside.
From behind him, he heard a gunshot. The loud sound made him jump and the zombies he was leading started turning around to investigate the sound. He grabbed two of them by their shirt collars and pulled them back.
"No, don't go you idiots." He forced them back with him. "Don't leave." The tingling feeling came back to him and he almost stumbled because of it. He recovered though, and watched as the zombies turned away from where the gunshot came from so they could stand in front of him. He took a breath and wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead. "So now you decided to come along?" They either ignored him or chose not to respond, and Dave imagined that they had some sort of bizarre humor.
As he hit the back of the store, Dave found a door marked with a red glowing exit sign. He glanced behind him to make sure the zombies were still following him and slowly pushed the door open. He would rather have them with him then put those men on alert.
As he pushed the door open, he found that the light blinded him for a moment. He quickly got used to it and looked around. He was facing the large open space that the trucks used to dock to the store and unload their products. To his left lay the street leading to the intersection he had parked his car at, and to his right was another short road leading into another adjacent street. Beyond those were suburban homes and fenced yards.
Dave stepped through the door and into the open air. He quietly hoped that the men hadn't decided to check the back yet and waited until the zombies had shuffled through before closing the door again. It made a noise that was too loud for his liking, but he decided that it probably hadn't been loud enough to alert those men. He was out of the store, but what is he supposed to do now? They were at his car. There was no way he could stuff all of his zombies into the car and get away without them seeing him. Dave reconsidered the possibility that they were friendly, but they looked way too heavily armed. Maybe they were with the military? Those men who tried to kidnap him and his friends also seemed to be military.
He hugged the stone wall of the grocery and made his way to the right. When he reached the end, he poked his head out and didn't see anything but the street ahead. Behind him, the zombies came shambling loudly, groaning and gurgling. Dave turned his head to look at the lot and wondered if there was a way he could just leave them here. He couldn't afford them giving his position away to anyone who may be listening. Those men were probably suspicious about his car, but he wondered if they actually thought someone had gone in the grocery or not. Still, he wasn't about to take a chance.
Shifting from his position, Dave slowly made his way around the side of the building. His undead companions continued to follow him. When he arrived at the next corner, he slowly poked his head out. He saw someone standing at the entrance of the door, camouflaged and holding some sort of rifle. Dave retreated behind the wall once more and hushed the zombies around him. Clemens seemed to get it fairly quickly, he wasn't making a sound, but the others continued to bump into each other and groan. He would never be able to make it to his car without drawing undue attention. Dave wondered if he would have to make his presence known.
Taking a deep breath, he weighed the consequences. He could step out, be confused with a zombie and be shot, or he could be saved. Either that or these men could be dangerous and just kill him anyway. He thought about it for another moment before pushing the zombies around him away. He couldn't have them endangering his chances.
"Sorry guys, it was fun while it lasted." If it was him or the zombies, he would gladly choose himself. He left the bags behind, but took the bat. Stepping out, he hoped he was making the best decision.
"Hey, over here!" He waved to get the guards attention, but made sure he wasn't swinging the bat in a threatening manner. The guard swung to meet him and readied his rifle, obviously worried about being attacked. When he saw that Dave was alive, not a zombie, he still raised his weapon at him, but his free hand shot to a radio attached to his side.
"I think I found him." Dave overheard him say. A bead of sweat ran down his neck despite his attempts at appearing calm. The guard stayed where he was, but yelled at Dave to stop walking towards him.
"I'm not infected!" Dave explained, placing his bat on the ground slowly. "I haven't been bitten." Dave raised his hands above his head and stood still. Before he could make another move though, four others came jogging out of the front of the store. They also carried rifles and wore camouflage. Following the other guard's move, they readied their weapon at him, but didn't shoot. One slowly stepped forward, and Dave tagged him as their leader.
"Is there anyone else with you? Do you have any weapons?" Dave shook his head in response and replied negatively. He guessed they were trying to decide whether he was lying or not.
"Go see where he came from." One ordered, taking his sights off of Dave and to two other men. The men he ordered forward slowly made their way around him, giving him a wide berth, and made their way past him. They were headed right for the zombies.
"Wait!" Dave yelled, turning to the men. "You can't go there!" He didn't want them to see the zombies, or to be hurt. The two men stopped advancing and turned to him.
"Shut up and get on the ground!" The leader yelled, taking three big strides towards him. He shoved him against the wall of the grocery and Dave felt a barrel pushed against his back. "Grab anyone over there, don't let them run." This move crossed the line for him. These men weren't out for his safety. He struggled with the man holding him from behind but the rest of them quickly subdued Dave against the wall.
With attention focused on him though, no one noticed Clemens and the others turning the corner, attracted by the yelling. The others simply couldn't respond quickly enough as the zombies caught sight of them and sprinted the short distance.
One of the men managed to turn around and fire a burst from his machine gun before Clemens himself grabbed him by the shoulders and sunk his teeth into his neck. At this point, the only thing these men were worried about was putting distance between themselves and the undead. Dave felt the barrel of the gun removed from his back and he turned around. The man who had acted so tough only moments before was screaming for his men to run. Dave however, wasn't about to let that happen. He reached out with both hands and gripped the man by his shirt, holding him back.
"What are you doing?" He screamed, trying to rip himself from Dave's grip. It didn't work, two zombies tackled him from the side and he fell hard onto the pavement. Dave ignored his short cry for help and watched as the remaining two members of the undead raced for the three who had managed to get away.
"Not so tough are you now?" Dave screamed, angry that they had tried to take advantage of him. The three survivors tried to hop in their jeep for a quick getaway. Their jeep, however, didn't provide good cover. The driver stomped on the gas pedal, but another man was pulled out before they screeched down the street, eventually disappearing around a corner. Dave, in his adrenaline rush, almost considered chasing them in his own car. But when he looked over the bloody corpses of those being eaten, he decided against it.
Acting quickly, Dave gathered the fallen weapons and their ammunition. Someone may have heard the shots and he didn't want anyone else coming after him. He had to push the zombies off of the bodies, but he managed to grab magazines out of their pouches and even a travel map off the leader. After he was finished, he slung the weapons over his shoulder, shrugging off the uncomfortable weight, and grabbed his trash bags and bat from around the corner. He made his way over to his car and struggled to reach the trunk release button. When he finally had it open, he dumped it all in the back, save for the rifle and a few magazines which he would keep with him.
As he slammed the trunk down, he looked over at the feeding zombies. They were tearing away bits and pieces and stuffing them into their mouths hungrily, coating themselves with fresh blood in the process. Dave grimaced, but knew that it was their nature. He still hated them for it, but was also thankful. Without them, he might have been killed. He gave himself another few moments of thinking, his hands on the door, waiting to open it and start the car. He didn't want them around him, but they could still be useful.
Biting his lip, he made the decision. They were coming with him.
"What do you mean 'they just left'?" Jack yelled in frustration. No one was supposed to leave without permission. He couldn't risk someone finding out about this place before it was fully prepared. Benjamin struggled juggling his rifle and keeping with Jack as he made powerful strides across the parade ground.
"They took a car and guns and left." Benjamin could tell Jack was angry. Hell, anyone could tell he was angry at this point. He was surprised steam wasn't pouring out of Jack's head.
"Tell no one about this." He hissed as they arrived at the front gate where two men were standing, watching the tree line for movement. Since the entire compound was protected only by a flimsy fence, Jack couldn't risk anything getting through. One breach could compromise everyone.
"What do you want me to do if they come back?" Jack ignored him and spoke to the two other men.
"If you two see anything suspicious, anything at all, come get me." He looked them over, as if judging their loyalty to him, and then continued. "If anyone comes to the gate, and I mean anyone, do not let them in." And as if to add a little extra incentive on his side of the argument and make sure they did what he wanted them to do, he added "they could be infected." The two men nodded in the face of his orders and confirmed that they would do the best they could. Jack counted his, rather limited, blessings that he had men who were so loyal to him.
"I'll do the same if I see them Jack." Benjamin added as they began walking away. Jack glanced over and acknowledged him.
"Do you know why they left?" They headed back across the grounds towards the armory where he had been earlier.
"I spoke to a few of the men and they said something about a raid in town." Jack stopped in his tracks.
"A raid?" He looked Benjamin in the eyes. "Are you telling me these guys left to see what they could pull from the city?" Benjamin swallowed, then answered.
"Yeah."
"Those fucking idiots!" He threw his hands up in frustration and continued his walk towards the armory. "They could lead an army of those things right back to us!" Benjamin hadn't thought about the complications, but Jack was right. They would come back to the camp if they ran into trouble because they had nowhere else to go. If they came back bitten and no one noticed... he shivered from the possibilities. They could turn the entire camp.
"Should we just shoot them?" Jack took it into consideration, but if they did anything serious, he would want to do more then just kill them.
"No," Jack said as they reached the armory door, "just bring them to me." He gave Benjamin a look to let him know that he expected him to fully follow his orders, then stepped inside and closed the door. When Ben heard the heavy lock clatter into place, he sighed and walked back to the front gate. He was glad he hadn't agreed to go with those men. When they got back, if they got back at all, they would have to face Jack.
When he reached the front gate again, he nodded to the two men still standing there and climbed one of the adjacent towers. It was empty, which suited Benjamin just fine. He could concentrate better alone. Looking behind him, he saw a foldout chair leaning against the wall. He grabbed it, unfolded it, and sat down. Now he just had to wait.
Natalie, in her young life, had thought she had seen a lot in her time. Her parents hadn't been the kindest towards her, and she had her own experiments in various illicit drugs. Her boyfriend had even occasionally hit her when he was angry. But none of that could have prepared her for this camp.
They had forced them into their own cars at gunpoint and even killed some of them along the way. She thought they looked like soldiers, but they acted like no soldiers she had ever seen or spoken to. When they arrived, they had been forced back out and into a building of their own, the one they were currently waiting in now. She didn't know what was going to happen to them, no one did, but it didn't stop them from guessing. Death seemed a major possibility; it was what most people predicted. But Natalie had that feeling that death wasn't the only reason they were all kidnapped, and that feeling was reinforced by the fact that several people were removed from the group when they had been shoved into this building.
But now she could only wait. She could only sit on one of the many beds and stare out a window to the surrounding area. And even that couldn't occupy her, not with everyone else crying, or making some other noise. It was beginning to make her panic, and it was worsening every second she stayed there. She could only hope that little sliver of hope that Dave was out there somewhere, looking for her.
She looked out to the armed men walking around, and hoped Dave would bring an army.
"I don't think he is going to survive the night." Michael's stomach felt heavy and he was light headed. The nurse standing in front of him, but out of earshot of James, put a hand on his shoulder and reassured him that they had done all they could. She then walked away to another room of the barn. Michael cursed her for her insensitivity, but knew that it was hopeless.
In the wreck, James had suffered a compound fracture in his right arm, and those who had inspected him on a professional level suspected him of having internal bleeding. Of course, without proper medical equipment, nothing was for sure, except that he was not doing well. Michael, even though he had tried to hold out hope that he would live, had his own doubts. James hadn't been able to keep down any food they had tried to give him, and he was in constant pain. No one had any painkillers, so James was suffering in a way none of them had experienced before. The only comfort given to him was a soft bed of hay they had fashioned up for him in the barn they were using as a temporary resting place.
For a moment, Michael leaned his head against the wooden wall and let himself cry. Nothing was going the right way. They had been on the road to freedom, now he didn't even know where his own mother and pregnant wife were. Just the thought of Karen sent him into a fit of anger. He didn't know where she was, she was with his child, and he could lose her forever.
Michael pushed away from the wall and swung his fist against it, almost ignoring the terrible stinging he felt. He caressed his hurting hand and immediately wished he hadn't reacted like he had. But his family was being torn apart, was already torn apart. Who could blame him? Michael then thought of the countless other families who had also suffered like his had. Many others probably had it worse, but that still didn't help him feel any better.
He walked to the entrance of the barn where his brother was laying silently. Others were in the room, resting, readying up for another attempt to escape the dead. Soldiers flanked the entrances and exits, guarding all inside. But Michael cast a long and sad look at James, wishing he could help somehow. He quietly made his way over to the hay stack and got on his knees beside the broken man, laying his hand on matted hair. James had always had soft hair, the softest he could remember.
Michael knelt by his brother for another long moment before allowing his eyes to cloud with tears. The drops rolled off his cheek before he could wipe them away, and he watched them disappear in the haystack. Sighing deeply, he covered his face with his hands. If only he had kept his eyes on the road. Everyone would be ok. Paul would still be alive.
The realization finally hit him. Paul was gone, and he was never coming back. No more RISK games, no more jolly attitude, no more fat jokes. Michael's eyes clouded once more as his cries started anew. He reviewed every moment he has spent with the man. From the board games, to the visits to his house, Michael wished his friend was still alive.
But it wasn't going to happen. He knew that, and he could only hope that things went better from this point on. Casting a hazy look around to those around him, his hope grew weaker.
