Mad Swine (Book 2): Dead Winter (28 page)

“Join us, brother,” Ian said, patting the table top next to him. “There always room for another.”

We played for another hour. Liam spotted me a few cigarettes to get started. I was currently broke even. Brian raised the pot and I folded my hand; I knew all of my brother’s tells and I knew he had a pad hand. Before he could reveal his hand, we heard a woman scream as clearly as though she were in the kitchen with us.

“What the fuck?” Brian started. He threw his cards onto the table. We all reacted at the same time, turning and running toward the living room, toward the source of the ruckus.

Everyone had gotten up from their beds and gravitated toward the entrance. “Get out of the way!” Brian shouted as he stepped over legs and bodies. “Make a hole damn it!”

“What’s going on?” Liam asked but no one responded.

I followed in Brian’s wake. We shoved aside the folks who were blocking our exit and stepped out into the snow. Albert was standing about five feet away staring at Chandra who lay on the ground in a pool of blood. Beside her lay another woman who had been in her early forties when she’d become infected. One of Justin’s ‘hawks was still planted in the dead thing’s forehead and Justin was kneeling on the ground a few feet away with his face in his hands.

Brian ran toward Chandra, but I grabbed him. He struggled to free himself from my grip but I held tight. “Everyone stay back!” I admonished. “Move back, damn it!”

“She’s still alive!” Brian shouted and again tried to break my grip. He threw his body forward in an attempt to break free. I pulled him down into the snow and tucked my head into his back to avoid his flying elbows.

Liam was unable to help restrain Brian because of his injury from earlier in the day, so Ian helped me get Brian up. We walked him back toward the house, our intent to get him inside, but I realized my mistake too late. Brian had been playing possum and as we drew near the house, he broke our grip and launched himself onto Albert, taking the man down hard.

“You killed her!” Brian shouted. He slammed a fist into Albert’s face two or three times before Ian and I were able to restrain him again. “You let her die, you son-of-a-bitch! Why didn’t you help her?”

Albert sat up but he continued to look lost, as though he had no idea what had just happened. Araceli and Belinda came to his aid, hugging him and putting their bodies between him and Brian.

“Leave him alone!” Belinda shouted.

Ignoring her, Brian kicked snow at Albert, spit in his direction and continued to rage. “Let me go! Let me help her!”

“You can’t help her, brother,” Ian said. “Only God can help her now.”

Pleading to me, Brian said, “Please, Matt, don’t leave her there like that. You have to help her. Don’t let her go out like that.” I stared at him for a moment wondering if I could do what he was asking of me. Before I could respond he said, “I did it for you, remember? I did it for Alyssa. Do it for me now, dude. Don’t let her suffer like that.”

Before I could think about it, I turned on my heel, pulled the 1911 from my holster and strode to where Chandra lay in her own blood. Her eyes were open and tracked me as I drew near and stared down at here. We locked eyes for a moment and then she closed hers. I shot her, ending her suffering.

* * *

Sometime during the night, Albert and his family left. No one saw them leave and no one noticed until late in the morning that they had gone. Lara took a head count and found that two others were missing. Eileen Robertson and Michael Rodriguez were also missing.

After some fairly heated discussion, it was decided that Albert and the missing parties had decided to head back to Randall Oaks. It was not safe to send out search parties and we would not risk the safety of the group for the members who deserted.

We left the ranch home around ten. In two days we’d lost eight members of our group. Three had been killed and five had gone MIA. We were six miles from the Finnegan Farm; it may as well have been one hundred.

The snow started to fall just before noon and within an hour more than six inches had accumulated. Along with the heavy snowfall, the temperature dropped significantly and gusts of wind from the north were frigid, stinging exposed skin and making the eyes water.

Movement was slowed significantly. By my estimate we had travelled less than half a mile in an hour once the snow started falling. My back pack felt like it was full of lead weights, my feet were stiff and it was difficult to breathe. The fierce wind seemed to penetrate the skin and reach the bone beneath. My head had begun to ache and was now a steady throb at my temples.

I had taken over pushing Ray in his wheelchair as my team had been reduced to just myself and Wesley. The accumulated snow seemed to grab hold of the wheels. Wesley struggled to pull the wagon and I could see he was tiring quickly.

Justin fell back from his position sometime later and took the wagon from Wesley. Cody seemed unaffected by the snow; in fact, the dog seemed invigorated by the white stuff. Eventually, I sent Wesley forward, telling him I wanted him to stay with Lara for the rest of the trip.

By one or two o’clock—I’d already lost track of time—the snow fell harder, bringing visibility to just a few feet. I could barely see Justin as he trudged through eight or ten inches of snow. Beyond Justin, I could see nothing but blowing, blinding whiteness.

At some point, Ray patted my hand, trying to get my attention. I stopped for a moment and leaned forward to hear him over the harsh wind.

“I can’t breathe and my face is numb!” he shouted.

I nodded my head. I unslung the SKS and shrugged out of my back pack. For an instant I almost felt weightless, like I could float. Then I felt my back tighten up as the muscles began to cramp. With my teeth, I pulled off one glove and the cold wind immediately found my exposed flesh. Digging into my pack, I pulled out the first thing I could find. I took the black and red flannel shirt and wound it around Ray’s face, tying the sleeves in front and tucking them into his coat. I adjusted his knit cap and pulled his hood down, cinching the drawstrings tightly.

He gave me a thumbs up. It was difficult to get the back pack up and onto my shoulders again. The pain in my back was ever present now. I slung the SKS over my shoulder again. After putting my glove back on, I readjusted my splitting maul on the back of Ray’s chair and resumed pushing.

Not since I was a kid in the seventies had I seen snow fall and accumulate in such a short period of time. As we trudged along, I kept expecting to see tracks in the snow left by those ahead of us, but the wind immediately erased any trace that may have been left in their wake.

As if from thin air, Brian suddenly appeared in front of us and he side-stepped just in time to avoid slamming into Ray’s chair. He tugged his scarf down under his chin so that I could hear him when he spoke.

“You’re going too slow! You have to move faster!”

“We’re trying! How far until the next shelter?”

Brian leaned in closer so that our faces were just inches apart. “I think we’re still a mile out. We have to pick up the pace or we’re going to lose people out here!”

“Listen, you have to go ahead! Don’t wait for us!”

“Let me push for a while,” Brian said.

I shook my head. “No! You have to get everyone moving to the shelter. You’re the only one who knows the way.”

“I’m not leaving you here!”

“You move them out or they’ll all die!” I shouted. I gripped the handles of Ray’s chair and started to push him forward. It took a lot of energy to get the chair underway again; my back was screaming and my feet didn’t want to cooperate.

Brian kept pace with me for a few strides and then put his arm over my shoulder. In my ear he shouted, “You’re a stubborn son-of-a-bitch!”

I nodded my head in agreement and kept pushing Ray forward. Brian leaned in again, close to my ear so I could hear him. “I’ll leave you a sign to help you find us. You better fucking make it!”

Suddenly I stopped pushing Ray and turned to embrace my brother. I hugged him in a bear hug and slapped his back twice. I was overwhelmed, suddenly feeling like this was the last time I would see him. “I love you, bro!”

“You better fucking make it!” he shouted. “And I love you too little brother!”

He disappeared as quickly as he had appeared, leaving Ray and I alone. For a moment, the snowfall was dizzying and I found it difficult to get oriented. When I tried to push the chair again, I realized Ray’s legs were making it difficult to push. I moved around to the front of his chair and studied the contraption, trying to figure out how to raise the stirrups.

“Why are you doing this?” Ray shouted through the shirt. “I told you I don’t want anyone to stay behind for me!”

“How do I put your legs up?” I shouted back.

“Leave me here!”

“Ray, shut the fuck up and tell me how to lift your legs or we’re both going to die out here! Help me with this damn it!”

He stared at me for only a second and then he reached down and showed me how to adjust the stirrups. With his legs up and extended straight out in front of him, there was more clearance under the chair, making it so much easier to get the thing moving again. We had already lost so much ground we needed to make it up quickly.

I started to run all out but I could not keep that pace for more than a minute at a time without getting completely winded. Instead, I eventually settled on a jogging pace, realizing that I would tire myself out by running and we’d probably end up freezing to death before we reached the shelter.

More than an hour passed since Brian had left us—or so it seemed—before I saw a silhouette several feet in front of us. I couldn’t make out the details; in fact, for all I knew it could have been a tree or structure in this whiteout. The snow on the ground had to be a foot by this time and I had long since given up jogging. I was on my last legs and I knew that at any moment I would collapse.

“Hello!” I called out to the figure in front of us. “I need some help!”

The infected thing in front of us turned at the sound of my voice and sprung at us suddenly. I was completely surprised by the attack, but even had I been expecting it, my body was in no shape to react quickly. It struck Ray’s legs with enough force to knock the chair askew where it fell to the ground, taking Ray with it.

Before I could react to the crazy that fell upon Ray, I was hit from the side and knocked to the ground with bone-jarring force. I was breathless from the blow, gasping, trying to fill my lungs with the cold air.

I was aware of Ray screaming and the weight of the thing on my back. With the combined weight of the creature and my back pack, I was trapped, couldn’t move. The SKS dug painfully into my side and my left arm was pinned beneath me. Ray continued to scream somewhere to my right, beyond my field of vision. The fucking thing was probably tearing him apart.

Flailing behind with my free arm, I struck at the infected blindly. I kicked with my legs, really throwing them wildly. Whether I knocked the thing off me or it slipped, I don’t know, but I was suddenly free of its weight. I struggled to my knees and shoved myself to my feet praying that it would not jump me again. When I reached my full height, though, the creature was on my back again. I was determined not to go down again, because if I did, both Ray and I would be dead.

Using the thing’s weight, I leaned forward and hitched my back, flipping it over my shoulder, throwing its body harshly to the ground. I kicked it—it was a man, I think—in the face, almost fell, then kicked again, stomping its head to the ground, burying its face in the snow. Leaving the thing on the ground, I whirled around ran for Ray.

Two of the crazies were on him, tearing at his legs. Ray wasn’t going down without a fight. Using his fists like a boxing champion, the crippled man arched stiff blows at the creatures, landing shots with more power than I expected he could muster. He was shouting at them, peppering them with punches and his best trucker profanities.

My axe was somewhere in the snow and there was no time to search for the weapon. I tore the SKS from my shoulder and took aim at one of the creatures. When I thought I had a clear shot, I pulled the trigger and nothing happened. I hadn’t chambered a round. The bolt was frozen and wouldn’t budge when I tried to load it. I slammed it with my gloved fist one, two, three times, yet still I could not get it into battery.

Switching my grip on my trusty SKS, I ran forward and swung it like a bat. The stock connected solidly with one of the creatures, knocking it backward and out of sight for a moment. I beat at the second one, jabbing at it with the stock until it too fell away. The other crazy was back, clawing at Ray, teeth snapping. As I fought him off, the other attacked Ray again. Anger and fear and disgust welled up inside of me. My body was failing me, my strength was being zapped away with every blow I landed. I could not keep parrying with these things; if I didn’t kill them now it was all over for us.

Realizing I needed to take them on one at a time, I focused on the one to my right. I slammed the rifle against its face again and then grabbed a thick handful of its hair and pulled the thing away from Ray. The snow sucked at my knees and tripped me up, but I somehow managed to keep my feet under me. The SKS was useless to me for the time being as I didn’t feel like I could wield it with enough force to penetrate the skull and damage the brain.