Running with the Horde (30 page)

Chapter 38

“Reverse Counter Strike”

             
Henry Flowers would have his pint of blood and then some. Getting inside the secret back door to the luxury townhome complex was no longer an option. A person might get one over on old Bill Swanson occasionally but it would rarely happen twice.

             
In an effort to draw him out, Henry cooked up a rather convoluted scheme that somehow worked. He arranged for the questioning of his cellar guests to be henceforth conducted in his office on the second floor. In that room a few pointless beatings were given, a few questions asked about the layout of the Swanson Compound. All routine stuff, the prisoners had gotten used to it since they began their stay a week prior.

             
In that same office, on his big expensive desk, Henry drew up a few maps with locations marked as possible places Violet had been spotted. Circling an old Greek restaurant way down the road on University Avenue, Henry made it as clear as possible, without being too obvious, he would be at that location in the very near future.

             
When Tegan heard the plan, his immediate question was why would Violet be at an abandoned Greek restaurant by herself in the middle of a zombie apocalypse when she was just a few miles from home. He didn’t question Henry though, by this time Henry was a full-fledged madman. Tegan had learned you couldn’t reason with insanity. He did tell Henry he would have no part of it. While this enraged Henry and he tried to brow beat him into it, he eventually backed off. Tegan still had killer’s eyes and was quick on the trigger. Henry knew he had pushed him too far with the killing of Danny Swanson, so eventually he backed off and agreed Tegan would stay behind with the twins and some of his men to hold down the fort. Fortunately for Henry, Bill Swanson was just as nutty and was likely to believe anything if it meant getting his hands on Henry.

             
Lance and his goon squad were more than happy to participate. They selected one of their hostages, a trusted aging uncle of Bill’s to be their patsy. Two of Lance’s men brought him up to the office for questioning and some mild physical abuse. Placing him practically on top of Henry’s desk so he could definitely see the map with the Greek restaurant circled.

             
At some point during the interrogation, the two men would stage a fight they’d rehearsed. They would start a heated discussion with each other about how they were getting nowhere with their questions and how pissed Henry would be when he returned from his latest search for Violet. This argument would escalate into a physical altercation. They would carry on so hard with their staged fight, they would knock each other out.

             
It all went as choreographed. Uncle Swanson took the bait and his opportunity to escape, hook, line and sinker. He not only looked at the maps, he took them and shot out of there like his balls were on fire.

             
He dashed through the great room and down the basement as fast as his hobbled legs could carry him which was remarkably slow, he was elderly after all. This almost blew the whole con as men hiding throughout the house had to stifle laughter watching the old man scamper past them.

             
After a wasted minute trying valiantly to open the locked freezer door, Uncle Swanson gave up and made his way through the tunnel into the pole barn. He had his pick of vehicles, all with keys and weapons conveniently left inside. Henry didn’t want him becoming lunch for a zombie if he tried escaping on foot.

             
Lance and his men had left for the restaurant earlier that day. They would be well entrenched before Bill would show up. When he did, the place would appear empty. He and his crew could take their time and wait for Henry to come waltzing in. It would be an ambush of an ambush, if it all went according to plan. Henry couldn’t wait to see the look in Bill’s eyes when it did.

Chapter 39

“The Harbinger”

             
Tegan was at his post on the guard tower when Lance’s group came rolling in celebrating. He had heard them coming for miles, shooting up the night and yelling like they were driving a party mobile from hell.

             
He climbed down from his post to deliver another ass chewing to Lance, forming a long list of offences in his mind as he stomped inside the house.

             
In the great room he met the man there in his stupid cowboy hat, his arm around some shivering woman from the Swanson camp. He was already three sheets to the wind, they all were. It was too late to stop the festivities. He had to use his remaining men to guard the pole barn and the twins.

             
Guard them from the animals inside his own camp!

             
He got the story from Rosie, who he found with Daisy drinking wine in the basement and playing dress up again. He gave them strict orders to stay in the basement and made sure they were both armed.

             
“If Lance or any of his men come at you, don’t hesitate to shoot them until your guns are empty. They’re completely off the reservation tonight,” he told them both.

             
“Will do, baby,” she purred.

             
She seemed to get off on the danger of it all,
he thought, as he made his way back to his tower to sulk. He picked his way angrily through the great room, where the party was in full swing. It was really only half a party though, half the participants weren’t willing.

             
Lance threw an empty beer bottle at Tegan, which shattered at his feet. He looked over at him furious to find he was giving him the finger. He almost shot him then. Probably should’ve, then maybe everything would have turned out differently.

             
Back in his guard tower, Tegan watched as zombies amassed at the wall in numbers so great it was mind blowing. Lance had really kicked up a hornet’s nest out there.

             
According to Rosie, things had pretty much gone according to plan at the Greek restaurant with one major exception. It wasn’t Bill Swanson who showed up to catch Henry, it was Marcy, Tessa and their crew of extended friends and family members. It was no contest for Lance and his men.

             
Marcy had come to avenge her son but lost all of her fight when she saw she was surrounded by armed men. The take down was easy, like capturing children in a daycare playground. Children that hissed and swore like drunken sailors. Lance didn’t even have to kill anyone, though two hapless Swansonsites died anyway.

             
The first was Marcy. When she saw her people being trussed up like hogs for the slaughter and loaded into the converted hay truck she lost it. She ran screaming from the building into the waiting arms of the undead who had been accumulating outside due to the commotion.

             
In moments her screams were lost to the night.

             
She had been so docile and quiet since the guns came out, her reaction had been quite a surprise for a brooding Henry and the festive Lance. They made no move to stop her as she ran, just watched her exit the play and die like they were watching something truly ironic happen.

             
The second was the old man, the rube, the uncle that inadvertently made this whole thing possible. His reward was to be sliced up and thrown to the zombies on the way back.

             
Henry had no part in that. When Bill didn’t show, he was dejected and morose. He helped corral the prisoners but then took off on his own again, doing God knew what under the guise of searching for the illusive Violet.

             
So the evening of the jailbreak wore on like slow torture for Tegan as he watched the zombies accumulate around the compound. Eventually, the party spilled out from the house and soon some of the men were fucking around on top of the wall.

             
Lance, apparently spent from his revelry, climbed up into the other guard tower. He pulled his hat low over his eyes and appeared to go to sleep. Tegan wondered what happened to the poor girl he’d been toting around.

             
He wondered about all of the prisoners. How things had gotten so far out of hand, he couldn’t figure it out. Never in his wildest imagination could he have imagined his life culminating in this fashion, with zombies and rapists and blood feuds and murderers. Hell, he was a murderer! Someone was watching all this. Someone was keeping score. He could feel it. When judgment came it would be swift and ruthless.

             
The more he chewed on it, the angrier he became. His rifle felt like something alive in his arms just waiting to be used. He watched the men on the wall, dancing and spitting and taunting the sea of undead with a recklessness and disrespect that made his bowels grind. When the man in the middle dropped his pants and began pissing on the crowd below, Tegan looked at his exposed ass and snapped.

             
BOOM!

             
Tegan’s rifle spoke once and with authority. The man’s head exploded as he toppled into the zombies below the wall.

             
Just like that the party was over. Drunk, cowardly men could be very cautious when their lives were at stake. The music went quiet, some lights went out. Confused and terrified prisoners were brought back to the cage in the basement and locked inside.

             
Only Lance remained at his station coordinating it all in a quiet voice on his radio. He was wide awake now and wary. Tegan could feel his eyes watching him under the brim of his hat.

             
Tonight everything would change one way or another.

             
Tegan remained standing through it all. He didn’t remember aiming or firing. But now he’d started something and wanted to finish it. He wanted to turn that rifle on anything that moved including Lance but something held him back. Some inner voice that told him the worst was yet to come so he held back for Rosie’s sake. He couldn’t protect her if he was dead.

             
So he waited and tried to calm his raging nerves. Waited as the house shut down for the night and the drunken animals crawled into their hole on the second floor to sleep it off. Waited as he listened to the maddening lullaby of thousands of zombies and tried not to lose his mind and shoot Lance. Then it happened, the harbinger had arrived.

Chapter 40

“Jailbreak, Tegan’s POV”

He was jittery with his senses on high alert, shredding toothpicks in his mouth like they were candy. Stealing glances at Lance every few seconds waiting to see if the man would try and kill him. That’s how he spotted the first one.

              A man shape loitering near the corner of the house in almost darkness. No, not loitering, shambling slowly around the corner. A large chubby guy wearing a dirty gray hoodie. Another person behind him walking at an odd angle like his legs were broken. Still a third behind that one. Were they…?

             
A gunshot split the night, Lance had seen them too and fired at one. Tegan scrambled for the bullhorn at his feet.

             
“BREACH!!!”

             
The men on the second floor may have been drunken assholes but that was a word that threw everyone into immediate action. With the exception of the one they kept locked in the cage downstairs to keep the prisoners on edge, no zombie had ever stepped foot inside the walls of the mansion compound. Tegan saw the second floor lights turn on as the men jumped into action.

             
“Tegan, what’s going on over there?” his radio burped.

             
It took a moment for Tegan to process it, there was a zombie under his tower.
What the fuck had happened to the wall,
he wondered.

             
“Tegan!” it was Jeff, his number two.

             
“Jeff, we’ve got a breach here, don’t know how bad. How’s the barn?” he whispered into the radio as he watched the creature below try to figure out how to reach him in the tower.

             
“Its fine, nothing here. How can there be a breach?”

             
“I don’t fucking know,” he said tersely. “Leave one guy there and get your asses over here. There has to be thousands of zombies out there but I’ve only seen a few so far in here, maybe we can still contain this.”

             
“Roger that, we’re on our way.”

             
Lance’s men and Tegan’s men converged in the great room and began pouring out the front door in a sad uncoordinated mess into the waiting arms of George’s team of zombies. Tegan was having a hell of a time hitting the zombie below him with his pistol, when he finally did, the damage was done. Four zombies were down but so were a handful of men, most of those killed by friendly fire.

             
Tegan took control as quickly as possible and had the remaining men paired up in twos to search for the source of the breach and any more zombies that might be wondering around within the walls.

             
Nobody noticed the tall bearded man, dressed in black, quietly slip past them into the house.

             
He hoped for no more accidental shootings as the men could be heard letting off rounds in panic, shooting at shadows. One of them sounded so close it could have come from inside the house.

             
A few minutes later, Lance came jogging around the corner angry and winded, dragging a big aluminum ladder behind him.

             
“Found your fucking breach,” he said as he tried to catch his breath.

             
Tegan looked at the ladder in confusion.
Zombies could use ladders?
Lance seemed to read his mind.

             
“You fucking dimwit, obviously someone, a regular person or people, used the ladder to get inside. The zombies must have followed them up.”

             
This still didn’t make sense. It would mean the people would have marched right through the crowd and used the ladder without getting eaten by the massive horde. In Tegan’s mind that notion was just as ridiculous as zombies using ladders.

             
They didn’t have time to debate it any further as the men came running back to them.

             
“We killed another one by the dining room window on the south side,” the breathless man said. “There could be more, we’re hearing some weird shit out there.”

             
“Shit!” Tegan said as he knelt down on his haunches and massaged his temples gently with both hands. He hadn’t been this stressed out since his last tour.

             
“Okay, Lance and his guys will sweep the grounds again for zombies. Me and my crew will clear the house in case there’s anyone inside.”

             
“No way, fucker! We’re taking the house,” Lance said.

             
Tegan was in no position to argue, Lance had more men thanks to Henry Fucking Flowers.

             
“Have it your way, Lance,” he replied with a glare. “Happy hunting and stay frosty, now let’s get to it.”

             
He would deal with Lance later, for now they had a job to do. He issued orders to the men and they were soon combing the grounds with spotlights and itchy trigger fingers.

             
They soon discovered Lance had been right. There were no holes in the walls or fallen trees, there had only been the stupid ladder. They had regrouped around the ladder when the sounds of a firefight could be heard from inside the great room of the house.

             
“There’s at least one man in the house and he’s heavily armed, I think he’s got zombies working with him,” Lance said softly from the radio on Tegan’s belt.

             
“What’s your position?” Tegan asked incredulously.

             
“For now I’m holed up with Stubbs in the dining room. I think the rest of my men are down.”

             
“What?!” Tegan could hardly contain himself at Lance’s incompetence.

             
“Shut the fuck up, Tegan, I telling you man, he’s got zombies with him, helping him. They came from upstairs,” Lance insisted with an unmanly whine.

             
Tegan could sense Lance was not staying frosty like he’d instructed.

             
“Okay, whatever, we’re gonna try and push him through the kitchen and flank him by the garage. Unless he goes upstairs, he’s got no place else to go. Be ready if he comes your way.”

             
Tegan and his men got ready to breach the front door when two shotgun blasts nearly took their heads off. The scampered for cover away from the door. Tegan edged his way back up the steps.

             
“I don’t know who you are, shitbird, but you really bought yourself a royal ass fucking and I mean to deliver that to you personally!” he called out in the meanest voice he could muster.

             
Sounds of some type of struggle could be heard from the great room but other than that there was no response from the mystery man inside.

             
“Tell you what, chief, drop your guns and come out now and you walk away. No ass fucking and no questions asked,” he tried again, feeling perhaps he’d come on a bit strong the first time.

             
The struggling ceased, replaced by a pregnant silence. Tegan thought maybe he’d gotten through to the man and he was considering coming out.

             
Suddenly a shape came spinning past him and something wet and nasty splashed him in the face. The men outside shouted in alarm and disgust and Tegan turned to see a severed human head looking up at him from the bottom of the steps.

             
Tegan gathered them together a safe distance away. He wiped the gore from his face as he listened to the men babble like boy scouts around a campfire about the crazy fucker in the house.

             
“Alright enough!” he said harshly. “That wasn’t the act of a crazy person, he was just buying some time. We still have to get him out of there before he can do anything too devastating.”

             
On his signal, a group of men would start shooting the hell out of the kitchen windows. Tegan and two more guys would breach the great room and two more guys would come through the side entrance. They would get the guy in the great room or drive him all the way through to Lance.

             
The shooting began on cue, Tegan entered the great room but the stranger was gone. He counted five bodies. Three of Lance’s men (one headless), some nude woman in handcuffs he’d never seen before and Greta the cook, all dead.

             
When the shooting ended a moment later everything was silent, Tegan thought maybe they’d gotten lucky and hit the bastard with an errant round. He was waiting by the French doors, counting down from three when the barrel of a big shotgun appeared around corner on the other side of the kitchen.

             
He dove for cover as the shotgun tore a fist-sized chunk out of the wall where his head had been. That was twice now that the shithead had almost killed him without even aiming. His men had been holding back waiting for his all clear. They scrambled for cover behind an over turned table.

             
Tegan got back to his feet and started silently back for his position by the French doors when he heard one of his men curse. He was in mid turn when something heavy hit him just above the ear. Someone turned out the lights and he fell to the ground in a heap.

…

              “Wake up, Tegan! Wake the fuck up!” someone was slapping his face, hard.

             
His lights came back on in a bright glare all at once.

             
“Fuck! I’m up, dammit, stop hitting me,” he groaned.

             
The slapping didn’t stop as he tried pushing the hands away.

             
“They took her, they took Daisy!” somebody was hysterical, sounded like Rosie.

             
Finally the words made sense. They took Daisy.
The guy made it into the basement?

             
Someone had set him in a chair, an egg sized lump had grown out of the side of his head. He was still in the great room. There were seven bodies in the room, the two men he entered the house with had apparently been mauled by a tiger since he was knocked out.

             
“Okay, Rosie, I’m up,” he grabbed her hand, this time catching it.

             
Rosie stopped hitting him but started crying, he tried holding her but his head was pounding and he wanted to know what the hell had happened. He set Rosie aside as gently as he could and stood while the room danced a little jig around him.

             
“Where’s Jeff?” he called out to no one in particular.

             
“I’m here,” Jeff answered, running into the room. “Hey, glad to see you among the living again.”

             
“What the fuck happened to me?”

             
“Best guess?” Jeff started, taking a few steps across the room.

             
“Lance’s guy, Freddie, there,” he pointed to a bloody heap in the corner of the room. “He was killed by the naked zombie with the handcuffs.”

             
“Don’t ask because I don’t know,” he said when he saw Tegan’s disgusted look.

             
“Anyway, he…uh, came back I guess while you guys were focused on the kitchen. He got to Carter first I’m thinking, when you guys had your backs turned. Anthony noticed a little too late, flew into a panic and knocked you out with the stock of his gun. Freddie got him next I suppose.”

             
“Shit,” Tegan said, looking around the room in shock. “I didn’t know it worked that way.”

             
“Yeah, well I guess it does. Freddie would’ve gotten you too if we hadn’t come in when we did. Just to be safe I put a round in each of their heads once we had the room under control, even Greta’s.”

             
“Why do you think she didn’t come back?”

             
“Hell if I know, Tegan, maybe she never got bit or infected or whatever before she died, who fucking knows?”

             
“Yeah,” he paced the room in a wide circle as he massaged his buzzing head. “So he got downstairs then? Rosie said he took Daisy?”

             
At the mention of her sister’s name, Rosie started wailing at a pitch that made Tegan want to throw her through a window.

             
“Damn, Jeff, can you get someone to give her something, make her sleep for a while? Use Anthony’s gun stock if you can’t find anything else, seemed to work for me.”

             
“FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE!!!” Rosie screamed from her chair. She started throwing stuff at him, a shoe, a porcelain knickknack…

             
“I’m on it, boss,” Jeff said as he darted out of the room.