The Rise of Macon: A Zombie Novel (Macon Saga Book 2) (14 page)

He could just shoot the guy, but then the other one would
knife Abe. He didn't doubt that for a minute, but what if the man thought he
had a chance to survive or better yet, win. It would give Kyle more time to
take him out.

While thinking through the options, the man sneered at him,
his black stained teeth smiling through the bush of his beard. The old James
never would have allowed someone to look at him like that. Pure disrespect. James
made a decision and didn't consider it a bad one, though Kyle might not be
happy with him later. Kyle needed another option, one where the other man would
stall, and didn't knife Abe. He would deal with his man now, the way he used to
deal with those who didn't know their place.

 While keeping his eyes on the man in front of him, James
let his rifle fall to the ground. He unbuckled his gun belt and hip latch and
let it join the rifle. He reached around to his back and pulled out his black
knife from its sheath. The knife didn't shine in the light like the one the
biker carried, but it moved like a part of James' arm.

James walked forward, his body low, arms to his side and
slightly in front of him. The biker gave a booming laugh and raised his own
knife, more of a small machete, and charged James in an intimidating show of
power.

  James moved to the right, and easily ducked beneath the
clumsy swing of the biker's knife. Before the biker had time to turn, James
slashed his knife across the man's back, starting from his shoulder and cutting
a gash six inches long. The biker gave a growl and did a violent back swing
with his knife, only to find James a step away, standing arms by his side again,
a militant set to his face.

The biker advanced again, slower this time, more respectful
of James' speed. James kept himself at an angle that kept him away from the
biker's knife hand. They circled each other a few times, both waiting for the
time to attack.

  James tired of the wait and dashed into the opening which
existed between them. The biker, seeing his opportunity, struck straight out
with his knife, hoping to impale the cocky black man.

James didn't push forward with his feint attack, but
dropped to the right once more as the biker's blade stuck air. This time, James
reversed his blade and slashed the back of biker's calf, cutting straight
through fat, muscle and cartilage. The biker didn't have time to be surprised,
as pain tore through his leg. He picked the leg up, moving to pivot around, but
dropped to the ground when his leg gave out from under him.

The biker fell like a potato. James didn't wait. He stepped
forward and kicked the biker with the tip of his steeltoed boot, the kick
crushing his skull like an egg shell. He didn't move again.

***

Dave, seeing the fight start, knew he needed to use the
distraction to get his gun, which laid on the ground a few feet away. If he
could reach it and take out the kid's brother, he'd have no problem turning it
on the black knife wielder.

Dave took his shot and darted out from behind Abe's back. It
didn't work. Kyle had fought the temptation to watch the fight, but turned his
head slightly so the other man thought he was. He saw the biker make his move
and Kyle pulled the trigger as soon as he had a shot.

The bullet went through the side of Dave's right shoulder,
but didn't cause the biker to drop or spin. Dave, knowing he couldn't stop,
dropped to the ground and lunged for the handgun only feet from him. Kyle
pulled the trigger three more times, each shot finding the target at such close
range. He watched as the biker slumped to the ground, his bald head resting on
the ground, face turned down.

Kyle dropped his rifle and ran to his brother, who getting
a good look at him for the first time, noticed wasn't conscience.

"Abe, Abe, wake up," Kyle said as he slightly
slapped his brother's face. Kyle put his hand underneath Abe's neck, feeling
for a pulse. A weak pulse pumped under his fingers. Not strong enough. He pull
his own knife, slashed the ropes from his brother's hands and caught him as he
fell to the ground.

Kyle lowered his brother, and for the first time saw the
blood from his leg. Abe's jeans were ripped and covered in blood, which left a
puddle in the dried ground around the two by four. Kyle panicked at seeing the
amount of blood soaked in the ground. He tore the jeans away and saw the gun
shot that had ripped through the leg, leaving a ghastly exit wound.

Kyle knew before he tied off his brother's leg that too
much blood had been lost, but his heart refused to acknowledge what his brain
was telling him. He tied the leg off as tight as he could, then checked his
brother's pulse again. No better.

"Abe, wake up buddy, it's me," Kyle said, moving
near the pale face of his brother. Kyle placed his hands on Abe's face. Cold. Soft.
"Brother, please wake up. Please wake up. We can go now. We can go."

Kyle wasn't aware of what he was saying, wasn't aware of
anything except his brother. He kept his eyes on him, but already felt the
distance separating them.

 "Please, Abe," Kyle pleaded, trying to warm his
face. Abe cracked his eyes, the dark brown in contrast to the sunken paleness
of his face.

"Hey brother," Abe said, his voice week, only a
whisper. "Hoped you would come back."

"Of course, brother," Kyle said inches from his face.
"I'll always come back, you know that.

"I know."

"Just hang on, we'll get you better."

Abe gave a small smile. "No, brother. Love you."

Abe moved his lips again, but no words came. His brown eyes
stayed locked on Kyle, then closed, a single tear running down his pale face.

"Abe, Abe, stay awake!  Please, brother, please don't
go," Kyle said, his voice growing louder and more desperate, as if he
could command him. "I love you too. Please don't go."

Kyle sat on the ground, Indian style, and pulled his
brother's lifeless form into his lap, holding him close to himself, calling out
to him, pleading with him to stay. He rocked his brother and knew that Abe had
left him, but he couldn't let go of him. Not yet. Not yet.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, but didn't move from his
brother. He didn't want any of this without Abe. He had nothing left. His world
was gone. He couldn't breathe, as his heart threatened to crush him. Seconds
passed. Minutes. Hours. He didn't know, didn't care. His attention only pulled
when a voice spoke near his ear that the man wasn't dead.

The news jolted Kyle back to the world he'd let go. He
kissed his brother on the cheek, and softly lowered him to the ground. He took
a last look at his brother and stood. Around him, everyone was uncertain. His
friends, battered and bleeding, stood with looks of shame and horror etched
upon their faces. No one said anything. Tension and grief hung like a fog.

"Where?" Kyle said simply, his voice steel.

A few of his friends moved. Kyle spotted the biker on the
ground, moving slightly, Edmund leaning over him.

Fury rolled through Kyle. He felt its power, pushing the
crushing despair and sorrow of his brother's death, to a place where it stayed
locked away. Again, his world narrowed to one person, this one, the reason for
his pain. He walked up to the man, stood over him and looked down without mercy.

"Move," Kyle said.

Edmund looked up, his face a buffet of cuts and bruises. His
eyes widened at the sight of Kyle, the friendly professor gone, replaced by
something else.

"Kyle, we can't -"

"Move."

Edmund almost protested again, but Eric moved towards him,
helping him get to his feet and back away, leaving the man's fate to Kyle.

"Kyle," a voice called out. Grace. He looked up,
and spotted her green eyes locked on him. She didn't say anything else. Kyle
saw the pleading in them, the concern, not for the man on the ground, but for
him. His soul. Kyle wanted to weep in her arms, to protest the world. Instead,
he turned from her, and looked down at the man who'd killed his little brother.

"Did you kill these people?" Kyle asked. Grace's
eye's had done it, robbed him of his unthinking vengeance. He almost regretted
letting it go. He would let the man answer, but they both knew what it would
be. This would be about justice, not vengeance.

Laughter answered him. Dave looked up, his face twisting in
scorn at the man above him. He would not beg, he would not go soft like Wes. He
took what he wanted.

Kyle gave a single nod, his eyes hard and set, like he was
granting a wish. He pulled his handgun and said, "I find you guilty."

Kyle pulled the trigger. He didn't miss this time. He
looked up to those around him. Their expressions running the rampant of
emotions. He looked for James. Already beside him. He turned to him, "Can
you …?"

"I'll take care of it," James responded, voice
steady. Kyle acknowledged, dropped his head and walked across the courtyard to
the room he shared with James and Abe.

Kyle entered the room, dropped the curtain behind him and
wept for his brother.

Chapter 14

A blue sky and bright sun greeted Neil as he woke up, his
mind sluggish. He looked around; alone. He remembered now, anger surged through
him at the attack perpetrated by Kyle, the sheer brutality of it. Kyle would
pay, he'd be brought to justice.

Neil didn't know how long he'd been at sea. Two days? 
Three? He hadn't eaten, barely drank. He knew he wasn’t supposed to drink ocean
water, but he couldn’t help it; the thirst had been too much. It didn’t work
and now he was sick. The waves lifted and dropped him softly, the freezing wind
whipping in from the ocean. Neil felt none of it. His mind stayed on Kyle.

"It’s not over," he cried out to the wind. "It’s
only begun!" Neil threw his head back and gave a manic laugh. He knew
something was wrong with him, but didn’t care. Only Kyle mattered now.

He gazed up, his cherry, red face scrunching in the sun.
The sun and constant wind had blistered his skin. His bleeding and cracked lips
formed a smile as he looked at the land that had teased him for days.

The diseased had finally thinned, moved off to wander
somewhere else. He'd been waiting, desperate to reach land, to find water, but
now he understood, it’d been part of the plan. The plan to help him see how
things truly were. He was wrong before, though he tried to do the right thing,
tried to help. He had a purpose now, a plan to set things right.

Strength wavering, he paddled to the pier where everything
went so wrong. He tied up the boat, hobbled onto the wooden slats of the pier
and found water in a discarded pack. He drank greedily, like a dying camel. He'd
never tasted anything so good.

Scraping drew Neil's attention, the sound coming from
behind him. One of his followers, a younger man, moved slowly down the pier,
his sights on Neil. The man’s lower jaw was gone. In its place, a gaping pink
whole, bleeding, with the stub of a half-eaten tongue flowing back and forth
like the end of a water hose.

Neil didn’t react, didn’t move. He felt no fear of these
things, not any longer. He reached down, pulled a Ka-bar from his waist and
advanced to meet the man.

The thing was slow, too slow for Neil. He slid his knife
into its eye socket, its foggy eye popping like a grape. Neil let the man fall
to the ground, looking over its shoulder to see another zombie coming his way,
drawn by the noise.

Neil stepped over the man, pulling his knife free and met
the next zombie to challenge him. He didn't recognize this man, its face was
covered in dried blood, except its eyes and nose; there was fresh blood there. He
thrust his knife forward, aiming for the same spot, but missed and hit a bone. The
zombie grabbed Neil's arm and latched on like a vice. Neil panicked, dropped
the knife and tried to jerk his arm free.

The zombie stumbled forward at the jerk, falling to the
ground, very much still fighting. It grabbed Neil's leg with both arms, pulling
it towards him until he latched on with his teeth. Neil thrashed and kicked,
trying to free himself from the thing biting his leg. He looked for his knife
along the pier, but didn't see it. He felt the zombie bite into his leg, its
teeth breaking the fabric and tearing into flesh.

Neil lost his balance, hit the ground and used his other
leg to kick the thing in the head. Nothing. His hand, scraping across the pier,
ran over his knife, which he grabbed and leaned up to stick it in the head of
the zombie. The thing laid still, but its work was done. Neil was bitten.

Neil laid back down, his energy spent. He closed his eyes,
the implication of the bite sinking in. He was a dead man walking. He had to
hurry now, he didn't know how much time he had. He leaned up, pulled the head
away from his bleeding leg and got up. No need to wrap the leg, he was dead
anyways. Only one thing mattered now: justice.

He got up and walked, painfully, back down to the boats. He
scanned the bags on the pier, laying where they'd fallen in the panic to
escape. Neil began to look through them. He needed some water and something to
help him on his mission; he knew the perfect thing. He grabbed a bag, found
water but not what he needed.

He finished the bottle, dropped it, then climbed into one
of the boats they’d been planning to escape in. He ignored the mutilated, and
body parts; there existence a reminder of what he’d lost. He searched again
through the hastily packed supplies until he found what he’d been looking for. He
grabbed it and cackled with delight, "Yes, Yes, this will work."

He grabbed supplies and moved to a different boat, this one
smaller and tied to the dock. The boat was for recreation, only meant for a few
people, but it would work well for him. He tossed in the supplies, checked the
engine and threw off the ropes.

He pushed off the dock, letting the boat drift a few feet. He
smiled, then pulled the white cylinder out of the bag. The air horn felt heavy
to Neil, though due to his weakness or a full horn, he didn't know. He aimed
the air horn away from him, directed at the shore and pushed the button.

An ear breaking sound came from the small bottle and Neil
laughed at the simplicity of it. He would kill Kyle the same way he tried to
kill him; Neil loved the irony. Neil waited another minute and squeezed the horn
again.

He started the engine and moved the boat twenty feet,
stopped and sounded the horn again. The zombies began to converge at the
waterline, their groans of frustration easily reaching him.

Neil smiled at them. "Just wait, we're working together
now."