Regeneration (Mad Swine Book 3) (21 page)

I felt a hand touch my own. Sam
walked beside the flatbed, her rifle slung over her right shoulder.
Grasping her hand, I suddenly felt a wave of emotion slide over me
and my eyes teared up. I did not expect to see my brother again, or
any of the brave men and women who stayed behind.

* * *

They came at us soon after. Some
stumbled out from the sparse woods that flanked us on our right
while others rambled down out of the hills and fields on our left.
At first, we welcomed the creatures; we unleashed our anger and
need for retribution upon the foul things, bludgeoning them with
whatever impact weapons we carried.

Dirty, mired, and muddy, flesh
bloated and spongey, a dark haired, middle-aged woman dressed in
her Sunday best emerged from the brush. Her opaque eyes, milky,
cloudy, hungrily scanning for flesh. I dropped down from the
trailer and ran directly at her, not waiting for her to come to
me.

As I drew near, not knowing what I
was doing, I landed a sort of jump kick, my size twelve boot
connecting squarely with the thing’s ample bosom. The impact was
hard enough to snap dirt and dried crud from her hair as her body
lifted an inch or two off the ground before slamming down with a
meaty impact that would have knocked the wind from a living
person.

Almost immediately, the thing sat up,
its rotting fingers clawing at the legs of my jeans, seeking the
vulnerable flesh beneath. I drove a knee into its face, smashing
the nose inward. One knee on the things chest, I began to pound its
ghastly face, my knuckles digging, smashing, breaking skin and
bones. I unleashed a fury of punches until I could no longer
breathe and the creature beneath me had ceased moving.

Falling onto my backside, breathing
like a drowning victim finally breaking through to the surface, I
finally looked at what was left of the woman’s face. It was
unrecognizable; it reminded me of a cantaloupe after being hit with
a baseball bat. The skull was cracked open and what looked like
grape jelly oozed out.

Looking down at my hands, I
discovered they were covered with the thick, purple fluid, the
thing’s blood. In fact, the blood smeared all the way up to the
elbows of my jacket. Wiping the sticky, jam-like substance on the
legs of my jeans, I was quite surprised at how easily my fists
managed to penetrate the thick bone of the skull. The damn things
were rotting from the inside, making their flesh and bone more
vulnerable.

No more than forty or fifty seconds
had passed since knocking the woman thing to the ground. Getting my
feet under me, I pushed up from the cold concrete. As I jogged to
catch up with the flatbed, others stepped out of formation to
engage the undead as they came, solo or in groups of two or three.
Crystal used her Mosin to smash a crazy’s skull into its brain with
one mighty downward sweep of the heavy butt. A man I didn’t know
decapitated one of them with his machete, its head and body falling
almost simultaneously.

We went on that way for the next
fifteen minutes before I realized the groups were getting larger
and coming in waves closer together. Now, groups of two or three
members of our caravan had to work as a group to engage the larger
groups. At some point, a contingent of the undead started gathering
at our rear, lunging and staggering awkwardly in an attempt to keep
up with our moving vehicles. There were at least nine there now,
when only five minutes ago there were three.

Hopping down off the flatbed, I ran
forward passed a pickup truck and a white cargo van with the doors
removed, until I came to the vehicle pulling the long trailer of
wounded. Slowing to a jog, I tapped Crystal’s shoulder, realizing
my mistake quickly enough to avoid a flying elbow to the eye
socket.

“Whoa, easy there,” I said. I stopped
jogging and started walking to match her pace. “It’s just me.”

“You scared the crap out of me,” she
said. Taking a few seconds to compose herself, she took a deep
breath and then looked at me warily. “What’s going on?”

“These things are starting to come
more frequently. I don’t know if the explosions woke them or if
they can hear us coming, but whatever it is, I don’t like it.
They’re easy enough one on one, but when they get together and
attack as a group, it’s all too easy for one of them to get a
scratch or a bite in.”

Switching her Mosin from one hand to
the other, she said, “You’re right. What can we do about it?”

“We need to get as many people in or
on the vehicles as possible and send them ahead. I don’t care if
they have to hang off the back or pile on top of each other.”

“We’re not all going to fit,” Crystal
observed.

“I know. Those who can’t fit will
walk the rest of the way in, keeping ahead of that mob and killing
whatever tries to get in front of us.”

“Okay, we can make that work.”

“Good. Pass the word up. Make sure
anyone who is walking has firearms and impact weapons.”

“Am I picking some volunteers?”
Crystal asked.

I thought about it for a moment, then
said, “No. I won’t force anyone to hang back. But elderly and
children get a ride first, after that, if there’s room, it’s every
man for himself.”

Within minutes, Crystal formed a
small group to pass the word and get as many of the group packed
like sardines into or onto the already packed vehicles. It was
quite a site, seeing so many folks sitting on the hoods and roofs
of vans and trucks, and hanging off the sides of running boards. In
the end, thirteen remained, myself included. It was a good number;
small enough to move quickly and large enough to fend off a small
horde.

We watched the caravan fade into the
distance as we kept swift pace, keeping ahead of the horde. Under
my direction, we set up in a diamond formation. My standing order
was not to break away from the group to engage the creatures, but
only engage if they were close enough to do harm. My fear was that
someone would break off and not be able to get back to the safety
of the group before being overwhelmed.

Nearly twenty minutes passed without
incident, but I noticed the horde was not only growing, but they
were gaining. I didn’t think the creatures had suddenly picked up
the pace, but rather we were slowing, getting tired.

As I was considering our next course
of action, Crystal dropped back from her position at point and
paced next to me. “I’m getting a bit worried, boss,” she said.

Nodding, I asked, “So am I. What are
you worried about?”

“I don’t know how far we are away
from the farm, but I’m worried these things are just going to
follow us right up to the front door. What about you?”

I had not even considered that we
were leading the things home. I said, “That’s a very good
observation. Right now, though, I’m worried that the crazies are
gaining on us because we’re getting tired. If we don’t do something
about that, we may not make it home.”

Crystal was quiet a moment and the
sound of breathing and feet slapping against pavement filled my
ears. When she looked back at me she asked, “You have a plan,
right?”

As it turned out, I did have a plan.
If it worked, we not only lose the horde, but also get the breather
we really needed.

* * *

My mouth was dry and a sharp stitch
in my side came with every deep inhale. Sweat broke out on my brow
and poured down my sideburns and the back of my neck. It had been a
while since I had to maintain an all-out run for more than a minute
or two. Again, I was reminded that I needed to take better care of
myself.

“Almost…there…” I said between
breaths to no one in particular. I didn’t notice if anyone
responded. All I could hear was the sound of my pulse thrumming in
my ears.

Just ahead, I spotted the two large
pines that flanked the entrance to the abandoned farmhouse, the
same place we sought shelter several months ago when we braved the
white out to reach Finnegan Farms.

Together, we crossed the eighth of a
mile of open land toward the ranch home. The abandoned mid-80’s
pickup without tires still stood in front of the attached garage.
Most of the front quarter panel on the driver’s side was rusted
through.

Leading them around to the east side,
across the porch with destroyed railings and posts and rotted wood,
I pointed to the large gouge in the side of the structure that
opened up when the nearby tree fell into the structure and said,
“Hurry now, we need to get inside before they see us.”

“What is this place?” Crystal
asked.

“Tell you later,” I said, leaning
over, hands on my knees. I was trying to catch my breath.

Crystal went in and the rest followed
her through the man-sized opening. I could see exhaustion in each
of their faces as each of them pushed their way into the house.
Bringing up the rear, I grabbed the large piece of plywood and set
it against the interior wall, blocking the opening behind us.
Someone helped me drag the small, tattered sofa with one broken leg
over to brace the makeshift door.

“We need to make sure the rest of the
house is clear,” I said softly. “Crystal, take two with you and
sweep the rest of the rooms. Randy, you stay with me here and watch
this entrance. The rest of you, quietly check to see if there are
any openings they might exploit and block them.”

Although my heartbeat finally settled
to a normal throb, I still couldn’t seem to completely catch my
breath. I took a seat on the sofa and closed my eyes for a few
seconds and scanned the room. Dirt and dead leaves mired the
deteriorated wood floors. The fireplace stood black and cold.

One by one, they started to file back
into the room, sitting down with their backs against the dirty
walls. Crystal plopped down on the sofa beside me and Randy joined
her. After a moment, she leaned her head against his shoulder and
he put his arm around her.

We all sat in mutual silence,
listening to the things outside, each man and woman secretly
praying for them to move on. The sounds of their moans and guttural
iterations was unnerving and I had forgotten how listening to them
for extended periods could fray anyone’s nerves

Battle of
Evermore

I sat looking out through the small
attic window, my forehead pressed against the cool glass. My eyes
burned with lack of sleep; awake before dawn by bad dreams I could
not remember, I could not return to slumber even though I felt
exhausted. It was still dark outside, though the morning light
seemed to come earlier with each passing day. Nothing but shadows
stirred in the gloom. A brisk wind picked up suddenly, sweeping up
bits of dead leaves and detritus from the gutters, scattering them
across the roof.

After a while, I stood up and sat
down at the edge of the cot. Its well-worn springs made strange
sounds as my weight settled upon them. From beneath the pillow, I
pawed out the portable CD player, a recent bribe from Justin. Since
Matt and Brian left two days ago, I was moody and withdrawn. Lara
was the first to come to me, but she was unsuccessful in drawing me
out of my funk. Next, Justin made an attempt by offering a bribe,
but I continued my silent routine. Respectfully, they both relented
and left me to deal with my issues in his own way.

Now, I placed the headphones around
my neck, like a doctor or nurse would hang a stethoscope, and
placed the CD player into my jacket pocket. Leaving the attic,
cringing as the old wood stairs creaked and moaned as I descended
each step, I quietly closed the door behind me. In stocking feet, I
padded across the upper floor, then down the main staircase and
into the living room.

The dying embers of last night’s fire
gave off a dim orange glow. Sitting at the edge of the sofa, I
pulled on a pair of boots and gloves and then went out onto the
wrap-around porch. The morning was brisk and the slight breeze that
kicked up litter from the gutters came in again from the west,
nipping at my nose and cheeks. To the east, the sky was much
brighter, and the shadows witnessed just minutes ago retreated as
the sun climbed higher into the sky.

From behind, Cody whined and then
scratched at the door. Quickly I let him out before the dog woke
the whole house. Although this was a farm, and folks around here
woke early, it was still cold enough that most slept in until seven
or eight. Although I did not have a watch, I figured it was about
six in the morning.

“Go on and make your duty,” I told
the dog.

Cody tore down the stairs and made a
beeline for the large oak tree out front to mark his territory.
After a moment, I turned and walked to the row of rocking chairs
and sat in the first one on the left, where Mrs. Cleona took her
rest after a hard day of chores.

Watching as Cody moved from the oak
tree to an old rusted swing set to raise his leg, I pulled the
earphones over his small ears. I slid the CD player out of my
pocket and pushed the power button like Justin showed me. After the
CD spun up, I pressed the play button and then slid the player back
into my pocket.

For a while, I watched the sky grow
brighter as I rocked in the chair and listened to the homemade CD,
with songs from Led Zeppelin, REO Speedwagon, Journey, The Eagles,
Billy Joel and Pearl Jam to name a few. Although I was not familiar
with most of these bands—Justin told me this music was made before
my time—the music resonated with me and I enjoyed the company.

Eventually, my exhaustion got the
better of me with a little help from the rocking chair and the
music. My eyes burned until I closed them, telling myself if was
just for a little while. Before long, I was sound asleep.

* * *

I woke with a sudden urge to pee. The
dull ache in my bladder was enough to pull me from my slumber. In
my dream, I was in a shower lathering with oatmeal soap, and then I
was caught in a sudden, tremendous downpour, the rain so cold it
seemed to burn when it touched my skin. I ran, seeking shelter
against the rain, only to end up in the maze of cornfields, trying
to relieve myself, but the wind kept blowing the yellow stream of
urine back at me, splashing all over my pant legs.