The Rise of Macon: A Zombie Novel (Macon Saga Book 2) (12 page)

"Copy that Cherry Point," came Billy's voice on
the other side of the crowd. Abe assumed Jasmine turned radio control over to
Billy, whose specialty was communications. Good choice. "We'll keep in
contact and wait to hear from you. Glad to hear there's someone else out there.
Macon out."

The conversation ended and the small crowd in the room gave
a cheer of happiness. They were able to let go of the fear that they were the only
ones left.

"Wait until Kyle hears this," Patrick said,
turning back around and slapping Abe on the arm. "Apparently, a lot of
bases were overrun, but Cherry point, a marine base, is operational and is
going to get back in touch with us tomorrow, same time."

"Great," replied Abe,

"Come on now man, Kyle's going to be fine," said
Abe, putting his arm around Abe's shoulder.

Abe smiled, he couldn't help it, Patrick's optimism was so
infectious. "I know. Hey, did you change the color of your hair?"

"Indeed, I did sir, the little ones asked why I quit
changing it. So, when we went shopping, I grabbed some hair dye. Yellow isn't
really my color you know, but I couldn't have the little ones thinking
something was out of the ordinary."

Abe had to laugh at that one, "Patrick, we're living
in a Civil War fort and Zombies are roaming the earth."

Patrick waved that off. "They don't care about that,
they care about changes from me and Jasmine, and we're trying to act the
same."

"You're a good man."

"Now you see why the women all want me."

"What women?" Abe asked, chuckling. "Hey,
another question. Did you know why Dave and his guys put all those two by fours
in the ground?"

Patrick gave him a funny look, then seemed to remember.
"Oh yeah, something about using them for sword practice. Eric gave it the
okay. Hey, Eric, what's up with the poles in the ground?"

Eric walked up, his mouth full of a tobacco chew.
"Yeah, Dave said he'd show people how to use their swords with them. The
wood's mostly rotten anyways, so I let him have it. Didn't see why not. Why?"

Abe just shook his head. "I just don't trust him is
all, he's got a look, you know?

"Yeah, he's someone to watch, but I think he's weak.
He wouldn't start any trouble," Eric said, not paying too much attention
to Abe's warning. "Anyways, it's about lunch time, let's go to the chow
hall. Brunswick stew today!"

Abe followed behind, everyone else speaking about the
contact with Cherry Point and what it could mean. He was glad to hear it also,
but something was bothering him and he couldn't let it go.

Chapter 12

The Brunswick stew was delicious and Abe pushed back from
the wooden table, fuller than he'd been for a long time. The atmosphere had definitely
been improved with the surplus and variety of food. He sat back, watching
people eat and chat with friends, not showing a care in the world. The Walton
style table held 20 people, all stuffing their faces happily at the moment. Abe
discovered another two people had joined the Fort while they were shopping for
food yesterday. He didn't know who they were, apparently Kyle had given the
invite to whoever needed it and they were starting to come. Fort Macon was
filling up.

He frowned, his douche meter going off, when Dave walked
through the oval opening into the chow hall. He was followed by his giant of a
friend and another biker he hadn't talked to. They looked around the room, said
something to themselves and split up. Abe watched carefully, noticing nobody
else seemed to spot anything out of the ordinary. Dave walked closer to the end
of the table, where Jasmine stood near the two large pots, both her little ones
playing near her feet.

Abe stood, although not sure why. He watched as the
refrigerator sized biker walked behind Wes and Rich, slapping them both on the
arms and giving a smile. The other biker stood near the entrance to the room,
leaning against the wall, his eyes locked on Dave.

Something was wrong.

Abe started to walk around the back of the long table, when
he caught Dave's eye. Dave gave a small nod, a curved mocking smile and then
leaned over the pick up the Patrick's little girl and held her against his chest.
The sound of a handgun being cocked rang out through the room, and all eyes
turned toward Dave.

"I can see I have everyone's attention. Good. It will
make this easier. Let's start this off by saying, if anyone tries anything,
I'll kill this girl first. Everyone understand?"

Both of the standing bikers, Dave's followers, pulled out
handguns and pointed them at the group.

The crowd around the table sat in stunned silence. Jasmine,
her mothering instincts taking over, desperately reached for her child, but
stopped when Dave put the gun closer to the girl's head, looking directly at
her. She stopped. She knew there was no give in this man. Frustration and rage
coursed through her as tears filled her eyes. She slowly moved back towards
Patrick, whose face had frozen in fear for his children.

Growls and threats thundered from the table when Wes stood.
"You Bastard!  Why are you doing this?"

Dave regarded the man as if a child, his eyes full of
contempt when he addressed him. "Because you were too soft to do it. The
old world is gone. In this world we have the power, but you've grown too weak
to see that, too weak to do anything about it. I haven't. You're just like them
now, sheep, and sheep won't survive in this world. This is my time, yours is
over. Now sit"   

Wes, furious to the point of rigidity, seemed unable to
grasp the reality of what was happening. He looked questioningly to Rich, then
to Patrick and Jasmine, who only had eyes for their daughter. He sat down,
defeated.

"Now," continued Dave, "nobody has to be
hurt, we're just having a change in regime. In order to do that successfully,
some precautions need to be taken care of." He motioned to the biker near
the entrance, who stepped forward and threw a large bundle of ropes on the
table. "I want you to tie the hands of the person beside you. Please make
sure it's tied properly, I'd hate for something to go wrong with children
present."

The tension around the table was palpable, as rage and
helplessness swept through the small group. Hands tightened into fists, teeth
clenched and muscles tensed, all waiting for an answer, a solution for this. No
one stepped forward. No one knew what to do. They were all brave men and women,
but none of them were leaders, none of them wanted to make a decision that
would leave a little girl dead.

So, they lowered their heads, sighed in defeat and grabbed
the ropes places in front of them.

"Now, the rest of you, tie someone else's hands,"
commanded Dave, not moving but plainly enjoying the victory. As the rest of the
group's hands were tied, the big man moved around tying the last few, of which
Abe was one. Abe was jerked back as the giant biker forced his hands together, tightly
wove the rope around them, tied it off and gave an ape like laugh of pleasure.

"Now, that wasn't too unpleasant was it?" Dave
said, lowering the handgun and shoving it in pants. He turned to the smaller
biker. "Take the kids out of here, back to their room."

At these directions, Jasmine and Patrick both jumped up.
"Please, don't hurt them, they're just kids."

Dave gave Jasmine a mocking smile. "Of course, I'm not
a monster. But you'll thank me in a minute, trust me on that."

Jasmine sat. She didn't know what to say, helplessness hung
from her and Patrick, the failure of keeping their kids safe a weight on their
souls.

The kids, now crying and reaching for their parents, were
moved out of the room.

"Now, let's get those guards down here. Can't have
them wondering around on the walls, can we?" Dave gave a smirk and
motioned to the smaller biker, who ran out of the room.

The group heard the biker call out to the guards, telling
them to come in for dinner and that replacements would head out. Dave moved his
handgun again, reminding everyone to not say a word.

Abe racked his brain to remember who was on watch. Zack and
Edmund, if he remembered correctly. Would they leave their post with no
replacements?

A few moments later, the group heard the sound of feet
heading toward the chow hall. Edmund, chatting happily, entered the room a few
feet in front of Zack, who was listening to his friend.

Edmund, not noticing the situation, walked right up to the
soup line and never saw what happened next. Zack followed Edmund, walking
through the open door, when the giant biker swung a fist from the interior of
the room. A loud crack sounded as the giant biker hit him in the side of the
head with his massive fist. The boy's head snapped violently to the side, his
neck breaking instantly.

Zack dropped to the ground, his body limp.

Edmund turned around as shouts of rage and murder rang out.
The situation almost exploded until Dave fired a shot, instantly silencing the
crowd at the direct threat.

"I didn't tell you to do that," warned Dave,
looking at the biker. Dave didn't care about the kid, but the biker doing
things on his own was something that wouldn't be tolerated.

"I didn't mean to hit him so hard," explained the
biker in his lumbering voice.

"Check on him."

"I think I broke his neck," said the big biker,
checking the pulse of Zack. He looked back at Dave and shrugged his shoulders.

Dave didn't like surprises, not unless they were his. He
would have to deal with this later. First he needed to get these people taken
care of.

Dave called for everyone to get up and move outside. The
giant biker moved through the door, pushing Zack's body aside like trash. He
moved into the courtyard, pointing his handgun at the group as they exited the
chow hall. Dave hung back, his beady black eyes following the group, watching
them for a mistake. He didn't mind. He planned on teaching a lesson today
anyways.

Dave led the group to the middle of the parade ground, its
brown and dying grass crunching under their feet as they walked.

"This is far enough. Sit," Dave said, motioning
to the ground with his handgun. He then nodded to his friend and said, "Go
ahead."

Abe, his blood boiling at the cold blooded murder of Zack,
decided he couldn't take this anymore. He ran through options of what to do as
he was grabbed by the big biker. Fear and defiance fought within him about what
his response would be. Defiance won.

Abe, being pulled to his feet, leaped up and jammed his head
into the murderer of Zack. Bright blood gushed, as an audible crack came from
the biker's nose. Abe didn't have time to smile in satisfaction as heard the
loud shot of a gun. A hot piercing sensation stung his leg and he looked down.

 Blood.

 A dark stain began to soak the bottom of his pants leg and
he realized he'd been shot. He hadn't really felt pain until he got a look at
the blood, but it soon appeared, and Abe fell to the ground, his leg deciding
to take a rest.

Yells of anger and protest erupted from those sitting on
the ground. Another shot rang out and Dave yelled, his voice cutting off the
violence that threatened to erupt. "That was his own doing. I could have
killed him, I didn't." He pointed again to the big man. "Get him tied
up."

The biker grabbed Abe again, this time with violent force,
making him walk on is throbbing leg. Abe's thoughts were confused as he was
stood up, and his back was put against a piece of wood that had been placed in
the courtyard earlier. His hands were untied, placed behind the wood, and
retied. His leg threatened to give out on him again, so he shifted his weight
to his other leg and though of Kyle's many warnings not to be reckless. He
wondered if this counted.

Ten of the two by fours had been placed in the courtyard. All
ten had men from the group tied to them, hands tied behind the wood, carefully
watching Dave, wondering what would happen next. The rest of the group, mostly
the woman and older folks, were sitting on the ground between them.

Dave smirked at the group, slowly walking back and forth,
while the other biker finished his task of making sure they were all tied
properly. Finished, the big man picked up Wes, the older man's shoulders
slumped, and hauled him in front of everyone, next to where Dave stood waiting.

Dave turned to the older man, regarding him for a minute,
then shook his head sadly. "At one time, you would have never let this
happen Wes. You had this coming." Before he was finished talking, Dave
pulled a slim silver knife from his pocket, grabbed a handful of long gray hair
and brought the knife around, slicing Wes' throat. No one had time to register
what was happening before the task was done.

Abe watched as Rich threw his body forward, his long
muscular arms bulging and straining at the rope holding him. He let out a
scream of pure desperation that filled Abe with dread. Rich thrashed at the
rope, his hands turning bloody as he pulled to get free. He pleaded, begged for
his father. Dave turned his eyes toward Rich and laughed. Rich desperately
called to his father to hold on, to look at him. The old man, hazy and
confused, looked at his son as his eyes lost focus, his life blood pouring from
his body.

 Abe, shocked into dumbness, watched as the old man jerked
a final time, then fell face forward onto the ground, his body making a
sickening thump when it hit the ground. Blood poured out of the wide cut in
this throat, the dry, cold ground of Macon eagerly absorbing it.

Chapter 13

Kyle was cold. Though being cold wasn't the least of his
problems, as the three of them made their way through the inter-costal, back
around to the ocean and down the coast to fort Macon. The small boat rode like
a mustang at the vet. In truth, the ride or the boat weren't that bad, but
every jostle sent pain coursing through Kyle's broken rib. He was ready to be
back at Macon.

  The small boat was a 33 foot, Special Purpose Craft-Law
Enforcement craft (SPC-LE), or as Grace called it, a rigid hull inflatable. To
Kyle, it looked like an aluminum square box, surrounded by an orange balloon,
the kind clowns make into animals. The balloon side was actually hard, hence
the rigid part. To Kyle's surprise, it had three, 300 horse power engines and
could fly through the water. They decided to go slow, to scout the land around
them and scavenge if they could. They had no luck.

The beaches, both on the inter-coastal and on the ocean
side were crawling with diseased. Kyle and James's effort to bring all the
diseased to the far side of the island had been wildly successful and there
they stood, walking aimlessly. On the ocean side, they passed a boat drifting
out in the ocean, its passengers dead or diseased. After seeing that no one
could possibly be alive on the boat, they steered away from it. They were
taking no chances.

The cold and constant arm of the ocean punching him in the
ribs didn't annoy Kyle as much as the conversation going on between Grace and
James. The two seemed to, despite all the odds, have hit it off. Though mostly
Grace did the talking and James answered in mono-syllable words. Still it
annoyed Kyle, who sat in one of the shock-mitigating seats, a hand over his ribs
to keep them secure.

"So everyone calls him the 'professor'?" Grace
asked, throwing her head back and laughing at the nick name.

"Most do," answered James from behind the wheel
of the small boat.

Kyle frowned. "I don't call myself that, nor did I ask
to be called that. I just used to teach at a college before I worked at the
plant."

Grace turned towards him, pushing back her red hair, being
whipped in her face by the wind. "But you got fired."

"Not fired, laid off."

"That's what you say," she said, raising an
eyebrow.

"Because that's what happened," growled Kyle.
"Ask James."

James turned his head back towards them. "I didn't
know you then Kyle."

Kyle almost stood up, "That's what you decided to say,
you hulking mute. Anyways, it doesn't matter, ask Abe when we get back, he'll
tell you."

James gave a small grin, something he seemed to do more
with Grace around, and turned back around. She smiled at Kyle. "I'm just
saying, it's not like we can go check out your story with everything that's
going on. Mighty convenient if you ask me."

Frustrating. That was the nicest word Kyle could think of
to describe this girl. Was she just joking? "I don't think anyone did ask
you," he said

"Mighty defensive isn't he James?" Grace said laughing
again.

Kyle shook his head, he'd had enough and this caused Grace
to just laugh more. "He's kind of a moody guy isn't he?"

"That's what Abe says," responded James, not
turning his head.

"Damn it James, go back to steering the boat,"
Kyle yelled over the wind. This caused Grace and James to laugh harder. Kyle
sat back looking defeated, but silently he fought the temptation to smile. He
wasn't really frustrated at all, he knew the game she was playing and didn't
mind having the fun. He was fine with friendly banter and there was no need to
spoil their fun. Though he did decide it would be good to get away from these
two for a while. Ok, maybe not Grace.

The trip was slow, the sun making its long journey down, by
the time they neared Macon. They decided to beach the boat on the ocean side, farther
from the fort, but safe from the river's current.

The rumbling engines, though idling, sped the light boat at
a decent speed as it hit the beach and slid up the dark sand. James jumped out
and hit the beach, carrying a line to anchor the boat to the sand. Kyle
followed more slowly, carefully dropping into the water, and grabbed a second
line. They both pulled the boat farther up the beach and nailed long spikes
into the sand to keep the tide from pulling it out to sea.

Grace killed the engines and began to hand the three large
black bags to James and Kyle, who laid them farther up the beach. In short
order, with all the supplies they'd gathered unloaded, they started the half
kilometer walk to the Fort.

Barely off the beach, Kyle dropped his black bag and slowly
squatted down. Grace, also straining with the heavy and awkward bag, sat hers
beside Kyle. James waited beside them, still holding his bag. Kyle looked up at
James. "I'll have to come back for the bag. It's killing my ribs. I think
it'll be safe here, we'll just cover it with some foliage."

James nodded and finally dropped his bag. He rifled through
the one he'd been carrying and picket out a pair of binoculars. "I'll take
a look."

Kyle nodded. "Good idea." He should have thought
of that himself, but the pain in his side seemed to push everything out of his
head. He needed to get hold of that. He wasn't the first to have to deal with
busted ribs. Wincing, he got up and followed James a few feet to a dune he was
laying against.

They'd been lucky in seeing no diseased walking around,
more than lucky really. They half expected to be met at the beach by at least a
few. None came. James took his time with the binoculars, while Kyle looked
around at the familiar landscape. The area around the fort was clear for two
hundred yards, giving tourists plenty of space to picnic or simply admire the
fort from a distance. Beyond that, where they laid now, sparse vegetation
covered the sandy ground, with thin pine trees struggling to survive in the
inhospitable soil. They could clearly see the fort in the distance, its round
brick top sticking out in the horizon.

"Anything?" Kyle asked, trying to wait patiently
for the binoculars.

"Not that I can see," answered James, handing them
to him.

Kyle put the black bio's to eyes, adjusted them and viewed
the fort as if only standing a few feet away. No diseased loitered near the
unseen moat, probably having fell in. He moved from the left to the right,
taking his time.

"Looks all clear," he said softly, though he
didn't stop what he was doing. He kept watching, searching for something that
wasn't there.

"That's what you wanted right?" Grace asked
happily.

"Yep," mumbled Kyle, deciding to sweep the fort
one more time from left to right. He didn't think to ask if something could go
wrong, for what could have?  The thought that something was amiss also didn't
cross his mind, but something was wrong. He felt it. That little itch, the
small feeling at the bottom of his stomach when you know it's not right. He
searched again, almost convincing himself he was being stupid.

Almost.

He told himself he would scan it one more time, then they
would just walk there and signal someone, then…signal someone. Kyle tensed as
he swept the binoculars to the extreme left of the fort. He saw, clearly, the
top of the inner wall, the overgrown grass blowing in the afternoon breeze, its
manicured lawn for the tourists now left alone to its own devices.

He moved his sight further to the right, seeing the same
thing; more grass, more dark red bricks and then more bricks. He viewed the top
part of the guard rail, placed in dangerous parts to keep tourists from falling.
He finished the sweep and still no diseased, but now he knew what the feeling
was in the pit of his stomach. He saw no one to signal to either.

He pulled the binoculars down, rolled over and settled on
his back in the sand, handing the binoculars to James. "Take another look
and tell me what you think."

  James didn't reply, but took the bio's and searched the
fort, his head turning almost unnoticeable. While he waited, Kyle wondered if
he was being paranoid. He thought back to the instructions he'd given, the
instructions everyone had agreed upon for their safety. It was common sense.

James interrupted his thoughts. "There should be two
people on guard duty."

"Exactly, we did agree on that, didn't we?"
confirmed Kyle, not wanting to make a mistake.

"There was no agreeing, you ordered it," said the
big man, his eyes meeting Kyle. He was stating a fact, not pointing out a
dictatorship. "Something's wrong."

Kyle nodded. But what? They needed to know. "Count the
vehicles, see if any of them are missing."

James looked through the binoculars, his mouth moving as he
counted the trucks to the side of the fort.

Grace leaned closer to Kyle, who was watching the fort, his
chin resting on his hands. "Can't we just get closer and look?'

Kyle didn't respond, but thought it over. If there weren't
any guards, then sneaking up on the fort would be much easier. Normally, it
would be suicide, as the fort had an unobstructed 360 view of landscape around
it, but if no one was watching…yes, it might work.

"All there, including Old Ben's truck, with a trailer
attached. Looks like they were successful."

Kyle again nodded, he noticed it himself, but wanted to
make sure. He was about to voice some concerns, when a sound that could only be
a scream ripped through the silence of the day. Kyle froze. The scream, even at
that distance from the fort, was a terrible thing to hear. It spoke of pain. It
definitely came from the fort, its direction clear. Kyle grabbed the binoculars
from James and scanned the fort again. Nothing. A scream sounded again, full of
primal rage and agony. Kyle froze. Who was it?

All manner of worst case scenarios flashed in Kyle's mind,
each one worse than the previous one. His immediate impulse: charge and kill
everything in sight that wasn't familiar. A childish, if not dangerous thought.
He settled his overactive mind, pushed aside his panic, and tried to reason
through what could have happened. The diseased? How had they gotten through
when the drawbridge was still up?  And why only one scream and not more?  Added
to that, the absence of any shots of gunfire from that direction. No, it wasn't
the diseased. He thought. Something else was going on, but how to find out?

"I don't see anyone," James finally responded as
he looked at Kyle.

Kyle looked over at Grace, her questioning eyes threatening
to distract him. "Is there any more rope on the boat, and an anchor?'

She jumped up. "Yeah, I'll get it." The sound of
her crashing over the loose sticks caused Kyle to wince, despite the lack of a
guard and the distance they were at.

Kyle turned back to the fort and gave voice to his plans.
"We're going to have to close that ground without being seen, but getting
into the fort will be the real chore."

"What are you thinking?" asked James.

"When we get there, we'll have to jump in the moat. From
there we can look through the barred windows into each encasement and see if we
can gain any information about what's going on. After that, well, we're going
to have to scale that wall somehow."

Kyle didn't respond, and they both fell silent, the sound
of softly crashing waves the only noise in the area. The squash of Grace's feet
on sand soon approached from behind, and she dived next to them, as if she were
already taking fire from the fort. She carried a thick, white rope neatly
bundled. It wasn't the thinnest of ropes, more conducive to ship handling than
repelling, but it would have to do. She also carried a small white anchor,
which she showed to Kyle with a questioning look.

"Perfect," he replied, thinking they'd gotten
lucky borrowing a Coast Guard boat. "Okay, let's load up, then we'll make
a break for the fort.

 Magazines were stripped from rifles, checked and replaced,
then they slung the rifles from their shoulders and checked the magazines for
the handguns. James grabbed the rope and anchor, also intending to carry Kyle's
bandolier, but Kyle slapped his hand away with a frown.

"You have enough," Kyle said with irritation. He
wasn't dead. Kyle rearranged the short artillery sword towards the back of his
waist and looked at Grace, who was checking the action to her Beretta.
"You don't need to do this, you can watch the boat."

"It's not a boat," she said fiercely, her eyes
seeming to glow at the suggestion. "And I'm coming. I'd rather face that
with James, then stay out here in deadville."

Kyle didn't register the slight to him, his mind occupied
with crossing to the fort. "Okay, let's make as little noise as possible,
and hope we're not spotted by the wrong people crossing."

Kyle led, staying low to the ground as he ran, though he realized
halfway it was unnecessary. Old habits. He jogged quietly, feet close to the
ground, hands holding his rifle close to his body to keep from bouncing and
making noise. He held his eyes forward, though he kept taking quick glances
down to make sure he didn't step on branches or a random hole in the ground.

Kyle reached the moat moments before James and Grace, and
took a knee, looking up at the fort looming above them. They all felt the
tension of being this close, this exposed to whatever waited inside. Being this
close they heard noises, though from who they couldn't tell. The needed to
hurry.

  Kyle took a last look up at the inner walls of the fort,
took off his rifle and sword, held out the white rope to James, and waited as
James threw one end of the rope into the moat.

With a nod from James, Kyle backed over the edge, his body
scrapping the rough bricks. He grabbed the thick rope James had one end of, and
wrapped it around his arm. He didn't need to go far, but didn't want to risk an
injury on jumping. Nor could his ribs handle the violent landing.