American Revenant (Book 3): The Monster In Man (18 page)

Jimmy’s eyes snapped open to a cold and dark room, his breath fogging
his faint reflection in the glass.  “Uhhh, damn,” he raised a hand to stop the
kick-drum beating inside his head.  He glanced at his watch, the glass cracked,
hands unmoving.  Noticing a slight tinge of dawn on the horizon, Jimmy realized
he had slept most of yesterday and all night.

“Gotta move, Jimbo, Tam and the girls are waitin’,” he mumbled, his
tongue feeling thick and pasty.  Standing up slowly he grabbed the sweater he
had set aside, pulling it carefully over his bandages.  He used the empty
toilet in the master bath to relieve himself, noticing the darkness and stench
of his urine, “
Dehydration
” he thought.  Once again he avoided a close
look at himself in the mirror.

From the kitchen he took two large knives, slipping them through the
belt he had taken from the closet where he had gotten the pants.  Bolstered by
the long rest Jimmy shuffled to the front door, favoring the swollen ankle. 
Leaning on the door, he pressed his uninjured ear to the glass pane,
listening. 

He could hear faint rustling sounds, and several low moans.  Going back
upstairs he looked through the window, concentrating on the yard below. 

The horde milled about lazily in front of the house, they had stopped
where his blood trail ended.

“Well, shit.”  The zombie horde did not appear to know that he was
inside, though it was only a matter of time before he did something to alert
them to his presence.  “Gotta move, Jimmy-boy, find a way.” 

Jimmy made his way to the back of the house, where a door led out to a
small second floor deck.  From the window in the door he could see a detached
garage just below the deck.  “Out and down, only way through.” 

Despite his extended rest Jimmy felt weary, constant pain eating away at
his limited reserves. 

The jump from the balcony to the garage roof seemed to jar every single
pain center in his body.  He sobbed once, twice before realizing the horde of
undead had started moaning again, louder now.  They were alerted and searching,
actively seeking to devour him. 

He crawled across the roof, looking back once to see the first of the
horde coming around the corner of the house.  Reaching the corner of the
building he hesitated, fearing the pain the drop would cause as much as he
feared the hungry dead at that very moment.

Jimmy angled around, sliding his torso out over the edge, dangling as
low as he could before letting go.  A bolt of lightning shot up from his ankle,
lancing its way to his chest and up through his skull, ripping through the tear
in his ear.  He bit back the scream as much as he could and turned toward a
dense copse of trees a few yards away.

Jimmy ran as fast as his twisted ankle would allow, through woods and
across fields, around homes and under shrubs, he moved away from the horde,
though he was slower now, wearing down quickly.

Jimmy’s body protested the vigorous activity with pain, dull and
throbbing or sharp and burning, he was always in pain.  “Fuck me, make it
stop,” he muttered, rounding a house nearly two miles and several hours away
from the two story where he had found his new clothes.

His breath came in great shuddering gasps, each heaving intake and
exhale rippling across his chest in a wave of torment.  At the far end of the
yard he was currently in he saw an old truck up on blocks and stumbled
drunkenly toward it.

The small cab of the pickup reeked of rot and rust and old dust.  Jimmy
tried to stop a sneeze from the puff of dust that erupted when he fell in and
shut the door without luck.  Jimmy sneezed and passed out.

When he woke the first thing he noticed was that his pants were wet. 
“Pissed myself. Son of a bitch.”  His tongue felt heavy and he slurred his
words.  Then he noticed the sun dipping toward the horizon.  He had been passed
out in the truck for most of the daylight hours. 

He dripped greasy sweat, his soaked bandages a constant burning in his
chest and around his ear.  Raising his head with care he could see the house
and the zombie horde about twenty yards away.  “
I should be dead already
,”
he thought.  “Find a way,” he slurred, and opened the door, leaving it open
behind him as he crawled from the rust-eaten truck.

He started out at a slow, limping trot, not looking back to see if the
horde was aware of him.  Jimmy pushed on, unable to find the rage that had
driven him, seeing only the faces of his wife and daughters, reaching out
occasionally as if they stood before him. 

“Find a way,” he murmured softly, “find a way.” 

Chapter
31

“I vaguely remember finding a bike.  The tires were flat, but I rode it
anyway.  Got going down a hill pretty fast, woke up next to a tree a while
later.  Started walking again, couldn’t lift my arm after that.”

“Your shoulder was out of socket.  You probably hit the tree pretty damn
hard,” Jan told him.  “May be what happened to your face, too.”

“Nah, his face has always been that ugly,” Mike said.  He imagined no
one saw him wipe away tears.

Jimmy smiled up at his friend, “Still prettier than you, Mikey.”

A shared, but brief laugh went around the room. 

Rick, standing near the open door took a step forward.  “Hey, uhh,
Jimmy, listen, buddy, I just wanted to say…”

“Rick, there’s nothing to say man, so don’t worry about it.  Shit
happened, it’s done, and no one is to blame for anything.”  Jimmy looked into
Rick’s eyes, ensuring that Rick saw beyond the words to realize that everything
was good.

Rick nodded, saying nothing as he stepped back, leaning against the wall
once more. 

“Ok, everyone, it’s time to let the man rest.  Jimmy, you should be able
to get out of here tomorrow.” 

“Thanks Jan, I need to do something other than lay here.”

Jan smiled, saying, “I understand, you can lay elsewhere, because that’s
the only thing you’ll be allowed to do for several more days.”  Jimmy opened
his mouth to speak and Jan cut him off.  “Uh uh, I don’t want to hear it.  If I
have to I’ll have someone who can hold you down sit with you.”

“Don’t worry, Jan, Jimmy won’t be doing much of anything for a while.” 
Tamara gave Jimmy the smile that told him he would be following orders whether
he liked it or not.

“That’s exactly right, babe.” 

People began to slip quietly from the cramped room, nodding at Jimmy or
Tamara as they left.  Though the pall that had fallen over the camp had not
lifted entirely, Jimmy’s return helped restore some amount of hope to the
survivors. 

Once the room was clear except for Jan, Tam, and Jimmy, Jan gave Jimmy a
stern look.  “Fully healing up is going to take a while, and you need to let
that happen, understand?  No going all
gung-ho
and trying to do more
than you’re able, which is very damn little right now Jimmy.  Laying there I
know you’re feeling better, but stand up, walk a few feet, you’ll be
exhausted.”

Jimmy thought carefully before replying.  “I know, Jan.  I’m home, and
to be honest, I don’t want to do anything other than spend some time with my
wife and the kids.”

“Good, that’s what I want to hear.  I’ll tell you, I don’t know how
you’re still alive, Jimmy, I really don’t.  It’s beyond me how you got through
all that and made it back here.  You weren’t bitten, which is amazing all on
its own.  You’ve proven that it’s their saliva or blood that infects someone
though, not just a scratch.  Either that or you’re immune to whatever sickness
they carry.  Your back looks like you were attacked by a werewolf.”

“A werewolf?” Jimmy questioned.

“Yes, a werewolf,” Jan said, smiling.  “You’ve gone through hell, let
yourself heal.”

Jimmy’s face drew in tight, several pains shooting from various places
all at once. 

“You ok, Jimmy?”

“I’m fine, babe, just hurting a bit.”

Jan walked around Jimmy and Tam, picking up a syringe and a small glass
bottle.  “Tam, go spend some time with the girls, Jimmy’s going back to sleep
for a while.”  She inserted the needle into the IV injection port, filling the
cannula with something that seemed to hit Jimmy quickly, causing his eyelids to
flutter and close. 

“I’m good, Tam.  See you and the girls in the morning.”  Tamara leaned
over Jimmy, leaving a soft quick kiss before she left.

Jimmy continued to fight sleep for several minutes.  Sleep meant dreams,
and his dreams terrified him.

“Jan?”

“Jimmy, go to sleep, let the medicine do its job.”

“You going to be here for a bit?”  His voice was thick, slurred.

“I’m not going anywhere, and if I do Anna will be here.”  Jan stood
beside him, hand resting gently on his shoulder.  “You’re ok now, Jimmy, you’re
home.”

“Home… found a way…” he said softly, voice fading into sleep even as he
spoke. 

“Yes you did, Jimmy Mitchell, you found a way,” Jan said, as she pulled
a blanket up over Jimmy’s chest. 

She stretched out on her cot in the back of the room, a faint smile on
her face.  Tomorrow was another day, one of healing, not just for Jimmy, but
for the group as a whole.

Chapter
32

The people of the Camp Oko Tipi/Saverton settlement woke early each day,
working hard to prepare for the coming winter.  The last of the garden produce
had been canned and put away, as well as several kinds of meat.  Fish were
caught and salted or dried.  Deer was made into jerky in the little
smokehouse. 

While Jimmy rested and life continued forward for everyone, Alex took
his bow out, getting several turkeys and another deer.  The food they had
killed, or grown and preserved would last them through the winter months,
including the prepackaged food-stuffs that remained from their New London
scavenging.

“How many more of these are there,” Mike asked, carrying a large wooden
crate packed full of canned vegetables. 

“This is it,” Rick replied, hefting a box of jarred pickles.

Down the steps in the basement of the house once owned by Jonathan and
Martha Cambrey, Mike set his crate on the floor and placed a hand on his back,
arching and twisting to relieve the ache.

“Really did a number on your back, huh?”

Mike grunted, “Yeah, I did.  Jan thinks it will heal up on its own as
long as I take it easy, but I don’t know.  Have trouble sleeping at night
sometimes, it gets to hurting so bad.”

“Doesn’t look like you’re taking it easy,” Rick said as he placed his
box on the floor next to Mike’s.

“Yeah, well, shit needs done, man.  I can’t just sit around and watch.”

Rick nodded, thinking he would do the exact same thing.  Looking around
the large cool basement he said to Mike, “Enough here to feed an army.”

“Gardens did well this year.  Lisa, Becca and some of the kids are
working on harvesting seeds, drying them, and getting those in jars to bring
down here.”

“You think we could plant wheat next year?  We’re all going to want
bread.  And beer, can’t forget that.”

Mike thought for a moment before answering.  “I don’t see why not. 
We’ll have to go back to the old way of harvesting it by hand.”

“Bringing in the sheaves,” Rick said with a smile.

“Oh man, don’t you dare start singing.”

Rick opened his mouth and threw his head back, as if he were going to
belt out the old gospel hymn and started laughing.  “I wouldn’t do that to you,
Mike.  People’s ears tend to bleed when I sing.”  Rick clapped Mike on the
shoulder as he headed back up the steps.  “Come on, let’s see if there’s any
beer left.”

“Good idea, we can take one up to Jimmy, see how he’s doing.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

****

Gordy waved to Mike and Rick as they walked by, several beers in hand. 
“A beer doesn’t sound like a bad idea.  It’s after lunch time anyway.”

“Beer on top of your painkiller probably isn’t a good idea.”

“Your mother tell you to babysit me?”

Dean smiled, “Maybe.”

“Well, don’t worry, I’ve been cutting back on the painkillers.  We may
need them later for something more serious.  Besides, I have to get used to
living with this pain.”

“That’s the same thing Lynn, Anna and I used to say, Dad.”  Dean danced
out of the way, laughing, as Gordy took a half-hearted swing at him.

“After everything you can still be a punk,” Gordy said with a grin.

“So there’s nothing at all that can be done for your knee?”

“Not without surgery, from what your mom tells me.”

“The guys brought all those supplies back; shouldn’t she be able to do
it?”

“Knee surgery is pretty specific, there are things she would have to
implant to fix it, and we don’t have those.”

“Well, damn, Dad, that sucks.”

“Yes, it does.  No more going out with groups for me.” 

Gordy took slow, careful steps going down the slope to the house Rick
and Mike had just left. 

“When I was laid up, right after we got back,” Dean said over his
shoulder to Gordy, who was several steps behind, “I had to stay busy, do something
to keep my mind off of…what had happened.”

The two men rounded the corner of the house and Dean angled out toward
the yard, in front of the steps.  Gordy followed, standing beside his son,
staring up at the hand carved wooden sign hung from the eave above the steps up
to the porch.  The oak plank had been sanded smooth, and stained a smooth light
cherry color after being carved deeply with the words
Cambrey House
. 

“Jonathan would be proud.”

Dean smiled, “Good, I’m glad you think so.  You want a cup of coffee?” 

“Sounds good.  I need to sit down for a few minutes anyway.” 

Dean prepared a pot of coffee on the stove, setting out cups, sugar, and
some cream Daniel had brought up earlier in the morning. 

“We really need to figure out some way to refrigerate food,” Gordy said
absently.

Dean walked into the living room, returning with a stick in his hand. 
Gordy looked from the stick to his son and back.  “What’s this?”

“Becca and I thought you had to be getting pretty damn tired of that
crutch, so we made this for you.” 

Gordy took the stick from Dean, weighing it in his hand.  The turned
hickory shone beautifully in the natural light coming through large windows,
the lacquered wood cool to the touch.  He ran his fingers along the fine
grooves and grain left in the angled knob of the handle, feeling the nature of
the wood come through.  Tears gleamed in his eyes when he looked back up to his
son.  “It’s beautiful,” Gordy said, forcing the words through his tightening
throat.

Dean nodded; proud of the work he and Becca had done, happy that his
father was so moved by the gesture.

They spoke quietly for a while, spending time in this moment, all other
thoughts pushed to the side for a time.

“You really like the sign?”

“Yeah, I do.  You do some pretty good work.  It makes me think; maybe we
could put some signs out guiding people here, instead of going out there
looking.  Once we have enough people to field a strong force, then going out
wouldn’t be such a risk.”

“True, but signs would lead anyone here, good or bad.”

Gordy nodded.  “You’re right about that.  I think we could handle
defending our gate though, a lot easier than taking on whatever’s out there
waiting for us.”

“You should bring it up with the council, see what they say.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll do that.”

Dean stood up, stretching, arching his shoulders, careful not to pull
the stitches still in his side.  “I’m going to go get Becca and go fishing for
a while, you want to join us?”

“No, you two go.  I want to see how things are moving on the last bit of
the wall they’re putting up.”

Gordy pushed up from his chair with the cane Dean had given him, moving
carefully to the door he watched his son walk away, toward the house he shared
with Becca.  He was overcome with pride for the man his son had become.