Those Who Remain (Book 2) (8 page)

My bullet goes into her neck. Blood spurts out of the gaping wound and she vomits red. I shoot again when she tries to raise her gun at me.

“Panther, you alive? Yell if you are alive.”

“She’s not,” I answer instead.

My stupid gloating results in rapid fire, forcing me to duck. The bullets hit the wall behind me, plaster flying everywhere. I run from my position. The smoke provides me with some cover until I reach the clerk’s counter again.

With my free hand, I clean the sweat off my face. The bag is heavy and my shoulder is killing me. Two out, five to go. I need to finish this last woman fast; someone out there probably heard the shots already. I lean over to the side of the counter, trying to spot a sign of my target.

Between the fog and overturned tables, I see her feet moving.

“I’m over here,” I shout and wait.

She stops in order to pinpoint my location. Perfect. I raise my gun and shoot, hitting her left knee. She screams and grabs the nearest plastic chair so as not to fall. I shoot again: her right knee explodes, fabric opening wide open and blood coming out of the hole.

“Shit! Fuck!”

She’s out of commission for now, facing the floor and moaning in pain. I move with my head down to the front of the Pizzeria, ignoring the woman’s moans. Hunched, I survey the street outside. The two drivers are out of the truck, guns aimed at the pizzeria.

“What do you mean, you can’t see anyone in there?” The man with the red star shouts. “Get in there and scout the fucking area, dumbfuck.”

Mrs. Terrence starts to shoot. Everyone ducks and turns their backs to the store, searching for cover behind the cars. This is my chance. I calculate the closest driver and run, tackling him to the floor and shooting him point blank in the exposed face. Thanks to the loud bang of Mrs. Terrence shots, nobody notices. He’s a skinny one, and I quickly take his vest and put it on me, taking advantage of the cover fire.

“Fuck this! Bring out the clowns, Tomahawk,” the leader shouts, cowering behind his own truck, to my left.

Damn it. There’s still too many of them out there. Three and the infected. Trying hard not to be seen, I lean over the truck, just enough to spot the middle of the street. The man with the mullet and the one holding the infected shove Roger, Danny and my mother onto their knees, in clear view.

“I don’t know how many of you are there and I don’t care. If you keep fucking with me, I’m going to shoot the sheriff, the nerd and the soccer mom, here. Or feed them to my pet. I haven’t decided yet.”

Mrs. Terrence doesn’t reveal her position, but she stops shooting. I need to move. Fast.

“Okay, that’s an improvement. Now Mr. Sniper, show yourself. You have ten seconds.”

Shit.

“Two… Three….”

I spot the other driver, still crouched behind the back of the car. She’s has an apple in her helmet and seems too distracted with the sniper to see me coming.

“Five… Six….”

I drop the heavy bag behind, and move crouched in her direction.

“Eight… Nine….”

She turns her head around just in time to see me pounce on her. I press my gun against her neck and tell her to get up.

“Hey, you!” I scream at their leader. “Drop your weapon. Or she dies.”

“Let me guess, you're the rescue team?” Mullet man turns in my direction with a smirk. “Interesting.”

My gaze locks on Roger’s bruised face; he stares at me with wide eyes. “Drop it now,” I repeat the threat.

He yawns and raises his weapon. A shot rings. The woman’s body goes limp and something slimy and sticky hits me in the chest: her blood and guts. I get down to avoid the rest of his clip. Out of breath, I close my eyes for a second, trying hard to calm down. He knows my position now and proved he’s more than willing to kill anyone to get what he wants.

The question is: what the hell does he want?

“See? That’s how you deal with hostages,” he raises his voice. “Now, you there, you have two options. You can join the party now, unarmed of course, and I promise my pet here won’t eat you. Or you can watch this zombie tear your friends apart limb by limb. Both ways I get to enjoy the view. Dinner and a show, that’s living, am I right?”

“What you want with us? Why are you doing this?” I yell, hoping against hope that Mrs. Terrence has moved to safety.

“Willing to negotiate now, huh? How cute.” He cracks a hoarse laugh. “Takes a special kind of person to come here alone, without a plan or backup, and demand things. Hey, you may not have many brains, but you more than compensate that with guts.”

While he babbles, I move back to the body of the first driver and my weapon bag. “Just get to the point.”

“Sure thing, honey. I want the Professor. Bald, British, carrying a metal briefcase. I want the guy and the hand luggage.”

I have no clue what he’s talking about, but the longer he talks, the better for me. “Why?”

“Because I made him a promise, you see. But he ran off before I could keep my word. And that’s just not fair. So, point me in his direction, and I’ll free your friends from the clutches of death.”

Quickly, I search for a full clip for my Sig. “That’s nice of you, but I have no clue where this guy is.” I reload the gun. “So how about you just leave and we call it quits.”

“Yeah, I’m not buying that. Instead, I think I’m going to shoot the nerd in the head, and show you I mean business. How about it?”

I lean from my hiding spot and watch the man with the star grab Danny by the collar and place a gun over his head.

“No! You stop this now!” Mrs. Terrence’s voice echoes on the street. She gets up on the roof and reveals herself. “I know where the Professor is. Just leave him alone.”

The gunman laughs and claps. “Why, hello there, Mrs. Sniper. Two gals, fighting for their town.
Thelma and Louise
in the flesh.”

With a groan, I move toward the front of the truck, still hidden from view. From this angle I realize the guy holding the chain is gone, instead the infected is tied to the truck’s bumper.

Shit. He was stalling me too. Where is he now?

“Okay, lady. Where’s the professor? I don’t have all night.”

Mrs. Terrence hesitates for too long. The other soldier shows up behind her and tackles her to the ground. Danny grunts below the duct tape covering his mouth. I curse under my breath as he tosses Mrs. Terrence on his back and disappears. One-on-one. This is it. My last chance.

“One down, one left. Still thinking you can fool me?” The leader laughs. “Come at me, girl.”

I get up and raise my gun. “Gladly.” My shot almost hits him, but he rolls over before it does. I jump over the hood of the truck and shoot again. I need him moving, with no time to stop and aim.

He runs and opens one of the truck’s doors for cover, but the vehicle is too high and exposes his feet. I shoot on the ground, almost hitting his right foot. I shoot again. And again.

“Fuck! Tomahawk, get your fat ass here.”

While reloading, I spot the other man carrying Mrs. Terrence, but before I can do anything about that, the guy with the red star starts shooting. But not at me. He shoots at the infected’s chain.

One. Two. Three times. The chain breaks.

I bolt as fast I as can, tossing my body against the man with no arms before he can reach my mother’s kneeling form. We fall on the pavement. The smell of rotten meat and the taste of metallic blood hits me like a thousand bricks. A little dizzy, I get up and aim my gun at the man’s head.

Someone kicks me in the back, pulling me by the hair. “Come here, you,” the leader whispers. “Time to end this bullshit rescue. Damn, you even took the bulletproof vest. You work fast.”

His gun stings the back of my head. On my side, Tomahawk throws Mrs. Terrence on the ground. She has her eyes closed, but quickly blinks at me to show she’s still conscious.

Both men pull me up. I face the leader while the other yanks my gun out of my hands and starts to tie them up with ropes.

“How old are you? Jesus, did you really just kill five of my crew? What are you? College student by day, super spy by night?”

I stare back at him and say nothing.

The infected, still on his back and unable to get up without with his arms, moans and kicks the ground. After finishing tying my hands, Tomahawk yanks him up by what’s left of the chain. I look at the corner of my eyes, searching for Roger and my mother. I hope one of them had enough sense to use all this mess to their advantage. I bet Mom can untie herself, if my own knot is any indication of their ability to restrain hostages. Mrs. Terrence also needs the right opportunity to act.

“I’m twenty one,” I finally answer his question with clenched teeth. Let’s try stalling again, it’s not like I have many options left. Father would be disappointed.

He smiles at me, revealing broken teeth. “Deadly and can drink legally! I hit the jackpot, haven’t I?”

Mrs. Terrence reaches for my ankle. She’s ready.

I head-butt the bastard right in the face, and as he recovers, I jump at him, my weight enough to force him down. Still on top of him, I bite the ropes off, their bitter taste between my teeth. He put his hands on my sides and rolls us over. With my back against the hard pavement, he grabs my neck and starts to squeeze it with his dirty hands. As the air leaves my lungs, everything blurs.

There's no point in struggling. My hands search for my bowie knife, feeling the steel on my belt. I take it out and bury it against his side. He half-screams, half-laughs, but doesn't let go. The knife goes in again and again.

“Fuck, fuck,” he yells, finally letting me go.

I can breathe again. My hands feel my sore neck. He clutches his side, already bleeding. Taking the opportunity, I push him off me. While coughing, I try to get up. I’m too slow.

He points his gun at me. “Bye, bitch.”

I stare at the weapon's dark hole, waiting for the end.

“Stop it. Now.”

My gaze finds Mrs. Terrence with a gun pointed at the man. He turns his head to her.

“Drop the gun, please,” she insists.

“Or what, you’ll shoot me, old lady?” He laughs, coughing up blood.

Mrs. Terrence hits him with the back of her gun. Twice. He falls down, unconscious.

“What a horrid man.” She gives me her hand. I get up. “Are you hurt?”

I shake my head, wheezing. Standing, my eyes run over the scene around me. Somehow, Mrs. Terrence managed to knock out Tomahawk and save me.

“What… What just happened?” I ask her, mouth half-open.

“Well….” She places a hand on the back of her neck. “I pushed the big one against the zombie, and the zombie did everything else, really.”

She avoids my eyes, but I’m not sure if it’s because she just helped a man be eaten alive or there’s something else. Together, we toss Tomahawk’s body off the infected. I take out my hunting knife, wet with blood, and sink it into the sick man’s skull. Then we move to the hostages.

I free my mother from her bonds. We stare at each other. She has a black eye and a deep gash on her neck. I know why she's the most hurt. Father always trained us to fight to the death, never let ourselves be captured. Better to die before they can torture us for information. I bet she never thought she could actually be tortured for information.

“Thank you,” Mom says, feeling her reddened wrists.

With all that happened since I last saw her, I can’t find any words. Unable to look at her for long, I nod, and move on to untie Roger. He has a black eye and bruises, but looks fine otherwise. I smile widely, and he does it too. No matter if I'm fifteen or one hundred, I know my heart will always beat faster when he gives me that smile.

“It’s good to see you alive,” I say, my hands lingering on his wrists for maybe too long. “I was worried there for a bit.”

He gets up, his face close to mine.

“Lily… Thank you.” He places his free hand softly on my right shoulder. It doesn’t hurt at all. “You-”

Danny’s voice interrupts us. “You two kicked his butt! Man, that was fucking awesome.” While he celebrates, Mrs. Terrence frees him. “Damn, Lily, you are one tough bad ass. And Ma! What was that? Bam! In his face. Fuck yeah!”

“Danny, please. Watch your language. How many times will I have to ask?”

Mrs. Terrence's voice has no room for real frustration. Her eyes shine, and she looks at her son with an expression I wish my own mother could give me. I'm sure not even all the swearing in the world could make her truly angry right now.

“Sorry, Ma. But, man, this… I can't even begin to describe how awesome this is. You guys just saved us. How cool is that?”

“Yes. Cool,” my mother says, limping away. “I’m going to bed. Wake me up when this mess is cleaned up and the Council has stopped debating over what the hell just happened.”

I wince, remembering all the bodies I left behind inside Old Joe’s. They will finally have proof that I’m a crazy murderer, won’t they? And so do I. I killed all those people easily, and without a second thought.

Father would be proud. I’m not sure I am. Either way, it’s too late.