The Hunt Chronicles (Book 2): Revelation (29 page)

“They’re with Fish.  He said he was worried it may be other survivors that our hunters ran into and that he needed the firepower.”

I tensed.  Something felt wrong.  I went over to Chad’s bunk and started sifting through his stuff.

“What is it?” Pitman asked.

I glanced up at the large man.  “Something is not right, Pitman.”

“I’m starting to get that,” he sighed.  “But what are you looking for?”

“We’re looking for something?” Karina piped in.  “What?  I can help.”

I rolled my eyes, but they stopped on Cecil’s bunk, just a few feet away.  “Karina, go through Cecil’s things.”

Pitman raised a hand.  “Whoa, Cecil may not like that, Christian.”

Karina didn’t pay attention to Pitman, and started going through Cecil’s duffle bag.  “What am I looking for?” she said, working intently at laying its contents on his bed in an organized manner.

I turned and continued to move Chad’s stuff around, “I don’t know.  I figure we’ll know when we find it.”

“This is wrong, Christian,” Pitman persisted.  “We can’t—”

“There it is,” I said with excitement. 

Chad had a small battery charger used to jump cars.  People would have them in the trunks of their cars and use them in emergency situations.  This one had an outlet on it and Chad would charge it every few days.  It was how he charged his cell phone.

“Find anything yet?” I asked without turning around.  I connected the charger to Chad’s phone.

“I’ve found lots of stuff,” Karina answered sourly.  “Underwear, socks, a couple of empty magazines…”

“Enough, Christian,” Pitman said, moving toward Karina to stop her.  She was still babbling, continuing on her list of things she was pulling from Cecil’s duffle bag.

“Here’s his police badge.  He has twenty-four dollars in his wallet, a picture of him on a motorcycle with some other guy—”

“Stop it, girl!” Pitman said, grabbing her arm.

I turned around and was about to yell at Pitman when the wallet Karina was holding dropped to my feet.

I stopped.  I bent down and picked up the wallet, oblivious to Karina’s complaining about being manhandled by the African-American version of Arnold Schwarzenegger.

I stared at the picture, acid starting to creep up in my throat. 

The arguing between Pitman and Karina became distracting, and I shouted, “Shut up!”

The two froze. 

I continued to stare at the image in front of me.  Cecil was standing there with someone else.  They were both in front of two racing motorcycles.  The two had their arms over each other’s shoulders and big smiles on their faces.

It wasn’t the face I recognized at first.  It was the jacket of the other man.  The image of that jacket was burned into my memory. 

It was a jacket worn by motorcyclists for protection.  Then the face recognition started.  A face in agony.  A face that went limp when Fish put a bullet through the side of the man’s head.  It was the man I shot when Fish and I went to rescue DJ’s group behind the old Walmart, more than two months before.

I yanked the picture out of its sleeve and read the inscription on the back aloud, “To my Brother, Cecil.”

My stomach twisted in knots. 

“That’s Cecil’s brother?” Karina asked as she wiggled out of Pitman’s grip.

I didn’t answer.  Spinning around, I hit the power button on Chad’s cell phone and waited impatiently for it to turn on.

“Karina, go get Campbell,” I said as I waited.

“Campbell?  Why?” she asked.

“Just go get him!” I screamed at her.

“O-okay,” she said, and scampered out the door.

“What is it?”  Pitman asked, peering over my shoulder.

I watched the start-up icons dance around the screen.

“I’m afraid,” I swallowed, “it may be what I was looking for.”

Chapter 21

A Wolf in Pig’s Clothing

June 26
th
Afternoon

Campbell walked into the building as soon as I was able to pull up the video on Chad’s cell phone.  Behind him, DJ and Karina followed.

“What’s going on here?” Campbell asked impatiently.

“This!” I said, and tossed the picture of Cecil and his brother on Chad’s bed. 

Campbell picked up the picture and stared at it confusedly.  “I don’t get it.”

I motioned to the picture and pointed at DJ.  “Take a look?”

DJ peered over Campbell’s shoulder.  He too looked confused at first.  Then I saw recognition spread over the big man’s face.  He ran his hand through his thick beard.

“Is that…” DJ trailed off.

“Yeah, it’s him,” I confirmed.

“Who?” Campbell asked.

Pitman sighed.  “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.”

Grief started to appear on DJ’s face.  “It was the man Christian shot and Fish executed behind Walmart.  The day Jared was killed.”

“They’re brothers,” I stated, hoping that sank in with Campbell.

“What are you trying to say?” Campbell asked.

“I think Cecil murdered Chad.  I think Cecil is trying to kill all of us.”  Then, another thought occurred to me.  “The day we rescued the Major and the others, Cecil conveniently got in a car accident.  If Gonzales hadn’t done what he did, we all might have died.  It all makes sense now.”

“Are you two sure that is his brother?” Campbell asked suspiciously. 

“Positive.  I could never forget that face.”  I looked at Chad’s cell phone and brought up the last video.  The time lapse on the video said thirteen minutes.  “I found this near Chad’s gun at the dentist office.  It may…”

I had already hit play, and it showed from the angle of Chad’s view.  He was exiting Vader.  He and Cecil ran to the dentist office.

“Watch,” I said, and held up the phone.  Everyone gathered around the small screen.

Cecil shot three zombies in the head on their march to the front door of the building. 

Chad said, “Who goes first?”

“You, asshole,” Cecil replied.

Chad cursed under his breath, and then the camera showed him use a crowbar on the front door.

The door broke open, and the camera bobbled as Chad made entry.  They scanned the lobby and I noticed that the large bay window didn’t have any bullet holes yet.

It took about five minutes, but they cleared the entire building.  There were no zombies in the dentist office, unlike what Cecil had originally said when he informed us of Chad getting bit.

“All clear, pig,” Chad chuckled.  “Guess we can call—”

His voice was cut off with a grunt and a loud thump, followed by the camera going black as Chad’s body fell to the floor.

It stayed dark for a while, with only flashes of light, but Cecil’s muffled voice could be heard.

“Alright asshole.  I see you’re not talking shit now.”

There was no response from Chad.

After a minute, the camera came into focus.  Cecil was lifting Chad’s body.  The flashlights on my old friend’s body illuminated the room.  It was the room where they took X-rays.  Chad was sitting in the very chair I had passed out in.

Cecil came into view and had pulled out a roll of duct tape.  Chad started to wake as Cecil bound him.

“What the fuck are you doing, pig?”  Chad moaned, only partially coherent.

Cecil smirked, “I’m paying you back, bastard.”

“Can’t… take a joke,” Chad croaked.

“Joke?  You think this is a joke?” Cecil took a step back.  He cocked his head to the side, and then threw a punch at Chad’s face.  “This isn’t a joke, you piece of shit!”

“Why the fuck you doin’ this?” Chad said, and then spit.

“Why?  You and your friends, that’s why.”

“I don’t get it, man, we helped you.  We
saved
you!”  Chad wailed.

“You know,” Cecil said with a smile, “You did.  You saved me.  But I wouldn’t have needed saving if you guys didn’t kill my friends.  My brother!”

Cecil reared back and punched Chad again, this time in the chest.  The cell phone was knocked free, and fell to the floor.  Everything was dark, but we could still hear the two of them talking.

“I never killed anyone!”  Chad cried.

Cecil didn’t say anything.  The attacks continued, as we heard Chad yelp and moan with repeated thumps.

After a minute of beating Chad, the assault stopped.

“I don’t… understand…” Chad groaned.

“It’s funny,” Cecil chuckled, “I didn’t realize it at first.  I mean, I suspected.  The day we met, I saw that little girl with my brother’s gun.  The MP5.  I took that gun from the Melbourne Police Department’s armory.  That same gun Christian took off my brother after he and Fish killed him.”

“Man… we were defending ourselves!” Chad cried.

Cecil ignored Chad, and continued to talk.  “It wasn’t until a couple of weeks later that everything came together.  Fish told me how you started shit with some of our people outside a convenience store. 
You
started the shit.  You had to act like a badass.”

“Man, I was just… protecting my people.  Your brother… and his friends… drove up on us.”  Chad groaned again as another thump echoed in the room.

“We were just trying to feed ourselves, you skinny piece of shit.  A few days later, my brother never comes back.  I found his body.  I found what you guys did.  It only took a little bit of investigation to find out what went down behind the Walmart.”  Cecil’s voice was starting to shake.

“They shot at us first…” Chad trailed as Cecil hit him again.

“I don’t care!” Cecil cried.

“You’re... supposed to be a cop… what the hell—”

“I was a cop.  I was a damn good cop…” his voice trailed off. 

“Crooked pig is more like it,” Chad bellowed, but was cut short with another blow.

“It... doesn’t matter now,” Cecil stammered.  “It’s too late.”  I had this feeling like he was talking to himself.  There wasn’t any more noise coming from Chad.

A few seconds passed, and then we heard Cecil talking from a distance, probably in another room.  I didn’t hear it all, but it sounded like the conversation we had with him when he told us Chad had been bit.

Time went on, and nothing happened.

“This is some messed up shit,” Pitman noted.

“Damn…” DJ began, but the audio kicked on again.

“You awake yet?” Cecil said.  I could hear him slapping Chad.

“Fuck you…” Chad groaned.

“I think we’ve established that you’re not my type,” Cecil said evenly as his voice grew more distant.

Another noise entered the mix, along with a dragging sound.  It was the moan of a zombie.

“What the hell are you doing?” Chad cried.

“You’re not the only one, Chad.  They all have to die,” Cecil’s voice came off as calm… resolute. 

“No one has to die!” Chad pleaded.  “What are you— AH!”

The zombie moan turned into a growling fit.  The zombie must have been biting Chad.  There was no mistaking the sound of flesh being torn, or ignoring the fact that Chad shrieked a bloodcurdling scream of pain.

“That’s enough,” Cecil grunted.  The clunking sound of a suppressed weapon was heard, and then something flopped on the floor.

“Why don’t… you just… kill me?” Chad croaked

“Because, I need you…” 

There was a short scuffle, and Chad groaned and fell silent.  After a few more seconds, the video cut off.

“What the hell is going on?” DJ asked rhetorically.

“We need to warn Fish,” Campbell breathed.  “He’s out there with Cecil now.  Who knows what Cecil has planned?”

A female scream emanated from somewhere in the camp.  It was a terrifying sound, as if woman was being… torn apart.

We all bolted from the barracks and heard shouting coming from the guard tower.  I looked up and saw they were pointing toward the communication tent.  The two guards had their weapons out, one aiming toward the scream, but holding his fire.

“Mother…” DJ groaned as we bolted toward the commotion.

Jada was stumbling away from the tent.  Her left arm was missing, revealing strands of muscle dangling from the empty socket on her shoulder.

“Jada!” I cried, and failed to catch her as she fell to the ground.

“Daniel!  Rich!” Campbell screamed, and then pulled out his sidearm.  DJ and Pitman did the same, as I pulled out Chad’s .45 pistol.

Daniel came rushing over, followed by Rich and Doctor Tripp.  I wasted no time and followed DJ, Campbell, and Pitman as they carefully approached the Communications area.

A man was lying on his back in front of one of the tables.  His throat had been ripped and his esophagus had been torn partially out and hung a few inches to the left of his neck.  There was no doubt he was dead.

His name was Kyle.  We had rescued him and another guy just two weeks before.

The sound of flesh being ripped, torn, and chewed was coming from behind the table with the HAM radio. 

Boomer started to growl, and prowled toward the noise, his injuries seemingly forgotten at the presence of danger.

Rounding the corner, I saw Private Manns kneeling on the ground.  He had Jada’s arm in his hands and was devouring the bicep.

“My God…” I breathed.  Manns looked up at me.  His eyes were laced with purple tracers.  Below his chin was an eight inch laceration, exposing much of his jugular. 

Manns appeared to be conflicted on either continuing his feast or attacking me.  He chose his food, and greedily bit the thumb off the hand.

Campbell came up behind me and pumped a bullet into Manns’ head, rocking him back onto the ground.  I turned and looked at the Captain.

His face was flushed with anger.

“H-How?” I stuttered.

Pitman stood over the now unmoving Private Manns.  “Someone slit his throat.”

“Ten bucks says it was the same person who destroyed the radio,” DJ growled, walking up to the Captain.  “And twenty bucks says it was Cecil.”

“What do you mean ‘destroyed the radio’?” Campbell asked.

“The main radio and the HAM radio have been gutted.  The CB for the truck is okay, but useless since Fish and his team left by boat.”  DJ tossed a microphone with frayed wires onto the table.

“What about the handhelds?” I asked and walked over to the charging locker.  It was set up on a table and usually closed to protect the radios and power supply from the elements.

I yanked the locker door open, revealing twenty empty charging stations.

“Where are the radios?” I gasped.

“Damn it!” DJ cursed.  “God damn Cecil.  Fish sent him back to gather radios for the crew.  He said half of them were not fully charged, so they only left with five.”

“Where’s yours?” I asked both DJ and Campbell.

“Gave them to Fish…” Campbell sighed.  “He said they were short on them.  I figured I could just stop by here and grab an extra.”

“Same as me.”  DJ yanked on his beard.  “Damn it!  I’m going after them.”

“Me too!” I said, turning to head to my sleeping shack.

“The hell you are,” Pitman moved in front of me.

Campbell rubbed his hand angrily on his face.  “Hold on, everyone.  DJ, you stay here.  We may have more infected inside the walls.  I need you to account for everyone.”  The Captain turned to Pitman.  “You and I are going to go warn them.”

“The Major said I stay with the kid.  Those are my orders,” Pitman argued.

“The Major is with Fish.  His orders won’t mean shit if Cecil betrays them all and kills him,” Campbell countered.

“And how are you guys going to find them?” I interjected.  “You could run around the swamps all day long and never find where they are.  Boomer and I—”

“Out of the question,” Campbell cut me off.  “Pitman is right.  You need to stay safe.  DJ, watch him.”

Pitman shook his head.  “Hold on, Sir.  I still don’t know about this.  The Major gave me orders and—”

“Sergeant,” Campbell growled, “Get this straight.  I’m going out there to warn my men and your commander that they have a traitor in their ranks.  I am an Intelligence Officer.  My chances in the brush are pretty damn slim.  I need you.  Hell, I’m ordering you.  Finding people is what PJ’s do, right?” 

Campbell was playing on Pitman’s profession.  Pararescue went behind enemy lines to rescue downed pilots, among other tasks they were given.

Pitman glared at Campbell for a moment.

Then the Captain grinned, “If we make it back alive, I’ll testify at your court-martial.”