Tainted Reality (The Rememdium Series Book 2) (6 page)

“Stop frettin’, son. Your dad knows what he’s doin’. He’s in his element now.”

With a nod of his head, Turner acknowledged his mother’s words. Turner’s gaze swept the men surrounding his father. Only one false move or hint of trouble and he would rush inside.

“Looks like Curt’s spotted him!” Lamar whispered. “Lookie there! Ol’ Walt’s got ’em eatin’ outta his hands. They’re all circlin’ him like a hungry school of catfish on a wet lump of bread!”

Turner stiffened. The soldiers closed ranks around his father and Curt. Something inside his gut told him to move. “Let’s go.”

Without waiting for a response, Turner entered the gym. The others followed. His fingers gripped the rifle with such intensity they were almost numb. Pushing aside the low whimpers from several frightened residents as they passed by, Turner never took his gaze off his father.

“Addy?”

The sound of a familiar voice—and his childhood nickname—made Turner stop. Glancing to his right, he confirmed the identity. “Seth?”

Taking his gaze off his father for a split second, Turner saw Seth Montgomery pick his way through the crowd and over to Turner. His curly blond hair looked like he’d stuck his fingers in a light socket. Seth was almost three inches shorter than Turner and outweighed him by at least fifty pounds. Sweat trickled off of his forehead and his Led Zeppelin t-shirt was wet. Turner noticed droplets of what looked like blood dotted the front of the shirt.

In a low whisper, Seth asked, “You join the military?”

“No. Ain’t got time to talk. Go back to your spot and stay put. We’re here to get y’all out.”

Seth’s light blue eyes were wild with fear. Turner could tell he’d been crying. “Those bastards killed Trevor! Shot him in the head at the house. Trevor flipped when they arrived, and—”

“Now isn’t the time, Seth! We’ll talk later. Promise.”

The hurt behind Seth’s eyes made Turner wince on the inside, yet it couldn’t be helped.

Turner’s feelings about being rude to his best friend were cut short by his father’s booming voice.

“Because those are the new orders whether you agree with them or not! Now move!”

Turner left his bewildered friend and raised his weapon. The others flanked out and in seconds, they surrounded the troops.

“Lt. Pack gave us strict instructions to wait until the remaining troops arrive, then we are to—”

Turner stuck the tip of the rifle against the soldier’s back who stood toe-to-toe with his father. “One more word and it will be your last. You heard the man—move.”

The gym went silent. Turner could feel the electricity from hundreds of pairs of eyes staring at them. Sensing a shift in the room, the crowd of residents backed away and parted, leaving an opening for Turner and the others to lead the men and women out.

The showdown between military and militia lasted only a few seconds, yet seemed like an eternity to Turner. The one who spoke earlier lowered his head, a signal of defeat. Without saying a word, his father motioned toward the kitchen and the group of soldiers walked across the floor. The low rumble of whispers spread through the crowd as they moved, most cursing the military under their breaths.

Once the last soldier stepped through the doors into the kitchen, Walt addressed them. “Okay, here’s the deal. If you want to keep your weapons and not be locked up, you help us. Your other option is set your guns down and join your lieutenant and sergeants under lock and key.”

“Give up our guns? Are you insane? You do realize what’s going on out there, right? Just in case you don’t, newsflash: the dead are walking around eating the living. The entire globe has been infected with some virus that kills at an unprecedented rate! We’re trying to stop that!”

“What’s your name, kid?” Lamar asked.

“Davenport, like it really matters at this point. Where’s our—?”

“Still alive, I assure you. We ain’t here to hurt no one. Enough of that is goin’ on already by others,” Walt answered.

“Then why all this? What do you want?” Davenport asked.

“Y’all had orders to kill innocent people.
Our
people.
Our
friends and family. That ain’t gonna happen. We know the world’s gone to shit. We’re completely aware of the collapse in Washington. Those people out there don’t deserve to be exterminated just because y’all are afraid they
might
be sick. We’re takin’ them to safety—someplace those infected can’t get them—until all this blows over,” Walt answered.

Davenport rubbed his pale forehead. Turner noticed a slight tremble in his fingers. “Blows over?
Blows over
? Shit, you are insane. This is the end. What part of that don’t you get? It’s like this
everywhere
.”

The fury from before ignited in Turner’s head. “We get it, you bastard. Your solution was to just kill the people you’re supposed to protect then run out of town like whipped dogs! Dad—they aren’t gonna help us. Let’s lock them up right now!”

“That’s enough! All of you!” Martha yelled. “Either you help us evacuate those people or we’ll leave you here without any weapons and let you fight off the monsters. You know, the ones I’m sure your employer created? Make your choice—
right now
!”

The kitchen fell silent as the group of camo-wearing men and women contemplated their next moves. Turner heard the rumble of a vehicle approach from outside. Glancing out the window, his heart thumped when he saw three Humvees roll up.

Well, this ain’t good!

Apparently, the other soldiers heard backup arrive and made their choice. Turner saw the look of relief and determination spring to life in their eyes.

In the space of time to blink twice, Curt Campbell put the female in fatigues closest to him in a chokehold, a hunting knife the size of his forearm pressed against her exposed throat. “Time to decide is up. Drop your guns on the counter right now, or we’ll pick them off the floor next to your dead corpses after I send this bitch off to eternity.”

For emphasis, Curt exerted enough pressure to draw blood. The woman let out a small whimper.

The sound of the automatic weapons clattering on the metal counter top filled the kitchen. Dejection and fear spread through the troops. Almost as though practiced, they each raised their arms over their heads.

Except one.

Davenport.

Turner locked gazes with the fool and stared into the dark eyes of a man on the edge.

Just like me.

Everything happened in slow motion, similar to watching a movie unfold.

Davenport jerked his weapon to his shoulder and took aim at Curt’s head.

Curt responded by slashing the blade across the woman’s throat. Bright, red blood burst from her neck, covering the front of her uniform and the floor. Her limp body sagged in Curt’s arms for a split second before he let go and she collapsed in a heap on the kitchen floor.

Turner heard Reed scream from his right. “Oh, shit!”

Red fury coated Turner’s thoughts and he fired. The bullet ripped through Davenport’s left shoulder. The force of the impact made the man’s body jerk, yet didn’t stop him from pulling the trigger on his own rifle. A hail of bullets sprayed out the end, the sound deafening inside the small kitchen.

The entire group of people, including Turner’s family members, friends, and the other soldiers, dropped to the ground. Davenport and Turner were the only two remaining on their feet. Though injured, Davenport still clung to his weapon.

Turner stepped closer and stuck the tip of his gun against Davenport’s temple. “Drop it.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“Freeze,” Lamar answered the male voice from the doorway. Turner saw his mother and Lamar shift their weapons toward the door.

“Okay, okay. Let’s not get all—”

“Shut up,” Lamar grumbled.

Davenport let his rifle fall to the ground. Turner could see anger mixed with pain swirl in his eyes. Turner grumbled, “All of you—through that door!”

“I never forget a face. You’ll pay for killing Martina. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll—”

Turner never gave Davenport a chance to finish the threat. He spun the rifle and clocked the bastard in the temple with such force, Davenport flew back two feet. He landed with a hard thump on the floor and quit moving.

“Well, that certainly didn’t go as planned. Okay, you two pick him up and carry him through the door. The rest of you, get inside right now,” Walt said.

The kitchen filled with the sounds of boots tromping across the concrete floor as the remaining soldiers followed the orders, including the five new arrivals standing in the back doorway. The garbage holding area was packed with close to thirty warm bodies.

“You can’t just leave us here! One of my men is wounded. He needs medical attention!” Lt. Pack yelled.

“Then you best use your field trainin’ and improvise, ’cause y’all are gonna be here for a while,” Martha said before shutting the door.

Satisfied the grunts were secured, the group made their way into the gym. All of the terrified citizens huddled together in the middle of the room. Several women clutched their children with shaking arms. From the corner of his eye, Turner saw Seth and his parents to the right. The groups’ fear and anxiety hung over the gym like a wet blanket.

“I’m sorry if we scared y’all. We had to get them outta the way before we get y’all to safety,” Walt said.

Seth’s dad, Clarence Montgomery, took a step forward and asked, “What do you mean, Walter?”

“Look, I ain’t got time to tell the entire sordid tale. Let me sum up: things are bad, and right now, we’ve got to get everyone outta here. Chief Parker is at Walmart right now, settin’ the place up for us to hunker down in for a while. Need a show of hands—how many of you got your vehicles in the parkin’ lot?”

Turner noticed the tension lessen when his father mentioned Chief Parker. About half of the group raised their hands in response to his father’s question.

“Good. Okay, those of you with transport—step to the right. Those needin’ a ride, stay put.”

A man Turner didn’t recognize forced his way through the crowd and yelled, “Why in the world should we listen to you? You stormed in here with guns drawn and yanked our protection away! We heard gunfire which means one of you shot a U.S. Soldier!”

“Hey, I ain’t forcin’ nobody to do anythin’. You want to go out there alone and fight off the walkin’ dead on your own? Fine. Have at it. None of us are gonna stop you. Unlike those camo-wearin’ grunts, we’re here to help you. Let me give y’all a bit of information before y’all make up your minds—things ain’t the way they was before y’all walked inside this here school. What’s happenin’ to our community is happenin’ across the entire world. I mean everywhere, not just the good ol’ United States. Whatever has turned our friends and neighbors into hungry shells of their former selves is spreadin’ like a stinky fart on a windy day,” Walt said.

Curt Campbell came up from behind Turner and addressed the frazzled crowd. A collective gasp rolled through the group of citizens when they saw the fresh blood on his clothes. “Mr. Addison is right, y’all. The phone lines are down, the Internet ain’t functionin’, and I overheard one of those guards talkin’ on his radio earlier. They weren’t gonna help us! They planned on—”

“Now’s not the time for that discussion, Curt,” Walt interjected.

“Wrong. We have a right to know what’s really going on before we make any decisions!” a female yelled from the crowd. Her defiant voice acted like a release valve on the others. In seconds, the cafeteria filled with the rumble of panicked residents, each yelling louder than the one standing next to them to be heard.

Turner couldn’t take anymore. “Shut up! All of you! My family, these people,” he motioned to the others, “risked their lives to help you! Guess what your precious fuckin’ government was gonna do for you? Shoot you like rabid dogs. That’s what Curt overheard. We did, too. Those bastards already proved their loyalty by bargin’ into our town, yankin’ people from their homes, hell, even killed a few who didn’t want to come! I saw one grunt take down a blind teenager in his own front yard!”

The crowd let out a collective gasp then fell silent.

Clarence Montgomery added, “They killed my son in my livin’ room. A fellow soldier, one who’d served his country and still bore the mental scars of his service overseas. Treated him like he was an enemy combatant and put three bullets into his head. I’ve known the Addison family my whole life. Lots of you have. Turner’s right—the government ain’t out to protect anythin’ except the war-mongerin’ suits in D.C.!”

“And ain’t none of them left to give orders now, so we’re on our own! Those men and women in green are trained killers with no leaders. How long do you think y’all would last with them? Here’s the answer: less than two hours. By noon, all of you woulda been dead had we not shown up!” Curt added.

Spurred on by Curt’s words, Turner said, “Chief Parker and the rest of us agreed to step in and save you, offer a chance to escape and live, because it’s the right thing to do. Like my dad always says, the world’s gone to shit. If you want to survive the comin’ storm, then let us help you. We need to leave before the remainin’ troops arrive and find out we threw a monkey wrench into their plans.”

Another man pushed his way through the throng of residents to the front. Turner recognized him immediately. The man's head full of curly, gray hair, vibrant brown eyes, and the demeanor and patience of a saint, gave his identity away. He was clothed in jeans and a sweatshirt rather than his Sunday best.

Pastor Trent!

“Listen up folks, we need to calm down. We’ve been prayin’ hard for the last hour, askin’ God to release us from our captors and keep us safe. I, too, have known the Addison family for years. Walter, Martha, and Turner are wonderful, God-lovin’ souls. When the Lord opens a door to freedom, should we stop to question why, or step through it in faith? My choice is faith. What’s yours?”

A handful of people who raised their hands earlier, indicating they had vehicles, turned and fled the gym without a word. They ran as though prisoners who’d just discovered their cells were unlocked. Those who’d remained split off into two groups as requested.