The Rise of Macon: A Zombie Novel (Macon Saga Book 2) (5 page)

Chapter 4

Neil snarled, his knife sliding into the last of the
zombies in the motel. He pulled the KA-BAR knife from its head and let it drop
on the floor. He turned, finding his two companions standing behind him,
staring at him as if he were the zombie. Zombie or diseased, Neil didn't know,
but they looked like zombies to him.

Neil had no time for this. "That was the last one, the
whole building's secure. Let's get these things out of here and start securing
a defense."

With that, he walked out. Neil knew what these people saw,
a crazy man who'd lost touch with reality. They were wrong. He was more focused
now than ever before. He knew what he had to do, and he wasn't going to let
anything get in his way. Not this time. Everyone else, well, they would just
have to get in line. This time, he was in charge and there would be no
mistakes.

Neil continued down the hall, passing the third member of
his group that had assaulted Kyle and his group. Neil didn't speak to the man,
just pointed behind him and kept walking. Kyle! He'd almost had him on the
other side of the island, but the guy was slippery, as all criminals were. Neil
didn't believe all those people knew the real Kyle, not the way he did. He'd find
the real conspirators when he captured them.

The retreat from the ambush had been a close thing. With
only himself, and three others, they escaped and left Kyle free to cause havoc.
At first, Neil had tried to go through the small town of Oak Island, named
after the island itself. He needed to get his parents, then he'd come back to
settle the score. It was a no go. Fighting raged everywhere. The streets were
swarmed with people trying to survive; blasting shotguns, handguns or else
running for their lives. Crashed cars, incompetent small town cops and fire
trucks just made the situation worse. It was congested and impassable. In a
snap decision, Neil swung the damaged Tahoe around and headed in the opposite
direction of Macon, to the other side of the island.

Oak Island was a small narrow piece of land, less than a
mile wide at its widest point, but 12 miles longs. Neil had stayed close to the
beach, bypassing the fighting and chaos that raged on that first day. He drove
until he reached the far end of the Island. A perfect spot, he was able to see
the ocean and the intra-coastal waterway from the road. He got lucky, spotting
the motel/marina as night fell. The place was empty, with only a few cars in
the parking lot. It would do.

The group spent the night in Tahoe, not wanting to risk a
fight at night. The next morning, before they exited the vehicle, Neil spotted
a large group of survivors fleeing down the road, closely chased by zombies. Neil
exited the Tahoe, checked his magazine and used the bumper of the Tahoe as a
guide for his rifle. A magazine later, ten of the diseased were dead, their
bodies falling in hop scotch fashion. The survivors, terrified to go forwards,
stared at the dead, not daring to move from their spot.

Neil waved his hand, approached the group and told them to
head to the truck. Neil checked the fallen, making sure they were dead. He
didn't worry about the sound of his gun shots. Battle still raged all over the
island, most in the town. He hoped Kyle survived; he wanted to deal with him personally.

***

Neil took one of the single rooms for himself and cleaned
up at the still functional shower. He was a soldier and he knew soldiers got dirty,
but Neil preferred to be squared away. He was a professional and he would stay
that way, end of the world or not. He finished shaving, his skin smooth and
fresh on his narrow face. His hair was still short, still regulation, and
didn't need much combing. He did it anyways. Ne nodded at his physique, still
toned and in shape, like a soldier should be.

Neil hand washed his clothes and hung them up to dry. He
smoothed out the wrinkles by hand and donned his grey work pants, then buttoned
his matching blouse. He tucked the shirt in properly, slid on his boots and
folded his pants ever so carefully into the tops of his boots. He picked up his
gun belt and clipped it in place. He picked up his 9MM, pulled the slide back
and checked for the bright piece of copper, saw it and let it slide back. Ready
to go. He had to deal with a discipline problem today, and after that, begin to
start building something new here.

Neil walked down the drab, deserted hallways, down the seldom
used fire escape stairs and emerged close to reception, a large room. His three
friends were there, waiting for him, along with the nine survivors he helped on
the road. Two others came to the hotel yesterday, both older men, both looking
worn, disarrayed and sloppy. They still were. Neil disapproved of sloppiness,
especially since they'd been given an opportunity to clean up. Shameful.

Neil, walked up to the group, not greeting anyone. He
stopped, took a look around and noticed frightened eyes staring at him. Neil
didn't want that, didn't want to be feared. As long as they followed the rules,
there wouldn't be a problem. He would do everything he could for them, to keep
them safe and keep them alive. It was his duty. But there must be order, and
for that to happen he needed them to understand.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a carefully folder
piece of paper and opened it. He cleared his throat and read, "In order to
function and survive we must have order. To have order we must have rules. These
rules will keep us alive, and they will be followed if you choose to stay. They
are as follows:

“One. Everyone works. No work, no food, no protection. Anyone
not pulling their assigned duties will be banished.

“Two. No stealing, no cheating, no rape or assault against
another person. Anyone breaking these will face consequences and they will be
severe.

“Three. Everyone shares, we will collect food, supplies and
munitions, which will be shared by all.

“And the most important rule. Rule Four. Every man, woman
and child will perform his duty and will not abandon those duties until
instructed to do so. This also will have grave consequences if not met."

Neil folded the piece of paper, put it back in his pocket,
and assumed parade rest, his hands folded behind his back. "Any
questions?"

"Yeah, I got a question. Who put you in charge?"
The man was middle aged, dressed in brown khakis and dirty polo shirt. His
skin, pale and blotchy, hung loose on his face. He'd come to the hotel, with
his friend, both frantic, and looking for safety. He'd stayed the night there,
but hadn't said much to anyone, or at least as far as Neil knew. He hadn't
bothered to ask.

"My group took this hotel. I am requisitioning it. That
means, I am in charge," Neil said simply. "Now, I know you took some
food. If you leave, consider it a gift, since you did nothing to clear this
place. Otherwise, you will follow the rules."

The man stood there, measuring Neil, and decided he
wouldn't stand for this guy. "Look buddy, I'll take whatever I want and
you-"

Before he could finish, Neil hit the side of the man's neck.
The man immediately grabbed his neck and began to cough, his throat not working.
Neil wasn't finished. He pivoted his body slightly and gave a short measured
kick to the side of the man's knee cap. The man dropped like a rock. Neil
stepped back, calmly, and stood at parade rest again. The man, now crying and
making terrible noises, lay on the ground, his knee bent in an unnatural
position.

"This man had his chance. The rest of you have to make
a decision. Make it now. If you stay, there will be a meeting in ten minutes
for jobs and responsibilities in the conference room. That is all."

A dozen sets of eyes watched Neil walk back down the
hallway and out of sight. In seconds, he'd disabled the man and no one doubted
he'd do it again. They shared the same thought; he might be crazy, but they'd
take the devil they knew.

Chapter 5

The makeshift drawbridge lowered as Abe, James, Edmund and
Kyle waited, their backs towards the fort, keeping an eye on their immediate
area. Kyle heard a diseased, one of those who’d fallen into the moat earlier.
He took a look. The diseased, moaning lightly, walked back and forth,
scratching the walls whenever he heard a noise. Blood covered the man, though
mainly his hands, which were now only pieces of bone and hanging flesh. After
falling into the moat, he’d tried reaching his prey, scratching and clawing
until his fingers were rubbed completely away. The diseased still scraped the
wall, only now with the nubs of bone.

Kyle pulled his attention back, the draw bridge slamming
down behind him. He ordered everyone in, staying back to cover the entrance.

"All clear, go ahead son," said Old Ben, his
raspy voice cutting through the cold air. Kyle nodded his head, grateful it was
Ben up there. The man was, without a doubt, off his rocker, but he was also
dependable and confident. Kyle noticed one of Eric's dogs standing beside the
old man, nose pointed in the air sniffing.

He walked over the drawbridge, underneath the vaulted sally
port of the inner wall and onto the parade ground. He met Jasmine and Patrick,
who were walking with the young ladies they'd rescued earlier. Kyle nodded at
them and told them about the supplies.

"We'll take care of it Kyle," Jasmine said and
began snapping. Patrick gave a smirk and went about Jasmine's orders. Kyle
smiled, and headed up to the wall. He joined Old Ben, who leaned on his rifle
like Davie crocket.

"Nothing's been going on. Still some shooting from the
direction of town, but no more survivors. Had this guy," he pointed at the
diseased with no fingers, "coming in, but since he was by himself, I
thought I would let him wander around in the moat awhile. Shooting him would
cause all kinds of racket. I told my lazy nephew to get something to kill him
with, but haven't seen anything from him. Raised wrong if you ask me. Anyways,
everything else is good, though night's coming."

"It is," Kyle said, looking up at the darkling
sky. Winter days were short, but he hadn't decided if that helped or hurt them.
This winter seemed to be colder than usual and that definably wasn't a good
thing. They needed supplies and they needed them bad.

A cry came from the other side of the fort. Kyle could see
a man running along the top of the wall, in a circle, headed towards them. Kyle,
confused at who the man was, waited for him. The young guy, no more than
twenty, closed on them fast.

Kyle unslung his gun, he didn't trust new people running at
him. Old Ben caught the barrel of Kyle's rifle and smiled.

 "Relax Kyle, it's just Jack, that kid we saved this morning.
I talked with him, and he's alright, so I put him on guard duty with me. He
isn't carrying a gun, just another pair of eyes."

Kyle lowered his long arm, "Sorry, just touchy I
guess."

"Don't say sorry to me young fella, just letting you
know he's alright."

Kyle nodded as the kid slid to a stop in front of them, and
relayed, through rushed breaths, what he saw.

"Hen’s eggs boy, slow down and speak clearly. Now
again, slower."

"I was walking around the fort, like you told me Ben,
and I saw a speed boat or maybe a small fishing boat coming up the river with a
few people in it. It looked like it was headed this way. I was about to come
tell you that, when I saw a really big ship coming in from the ocean. It's
still out there a long ways, but you can defiantly see it and it's big."

Kyle nodded his head. "Jack is it?"

"Yeah, Jack."

"Good job, but now I want you to go get James for me.
He should be below us. You know who he is?"

"The scary black guy, right?"

Kyle laughed, James could be a scary looking guy.
"Yeah, go." The boy jumped down the stairs, caring little for safety.
Moments later he returned, James following behind him, a calm expression on his
face. Kyle explained the situation and what he wanted. James nodded once, never
saying a word, then walked back down the stairs. Jack looked from Kyle to the
departing James and decided to follow the scary guy down the stairs.

"Can you stay here and keep an eye on the front of the
fort?" asked Kyle as he began to walk away from Old Ben.

"Don't you worry none about this, I'll keep it covered."
replied Old Ben, waving his hands in a shooing way.

Kyle walked along the wall, in a wide circle, scanning the
surrounding countryside as he did. The fort, situated at the end of a thin
Island, only had a few things to see. A few hundred yards to the east lay the
Atlantic Ocean, which at night showed little. Between the ocean and the fort
only sand dunes and small vegetation lived; a perfect killing field.

Kyle walked until he came to the view of the Cape Fear
River. The fort was originally built to guard the entrance to the river, though
it became obsolete shortly after construction. Miles down the river lay the
city of Wilmington, which at one time was a big seaport. The city still had a
decent sized port, but nowhere near as important as it had been a hundred years
ago.

Kyle took a knee, quickly joined by James, who'd collected
Patrick, Abe, Jack and Edmund. James handed Kyle a pair of bio's and Kyle
focused on the small boat Jack spotted earlier, the larger ship forgotten for
the moment. The small boat was making good speed down the river, and was headed
directly for them. Kyle guessed it would be here in minutes. He strained, but
couldn't tell who was in it. He didn't know what to expect so he prepared for
the worst.

"Let's get in the prone position about five yards from
each other. No shooting unless I say so, or they shoot at us first. Everyone
clear?" asked Kyle. Everyone nodded and lied down on the wall, five yards
apart. Kyle took a second to find Abe positioned at the end and growled at his
stubbornness.

James moved a bit further from him, but like Kyle, stayed
on one knee and examined the small pleasure craft heading their way.

"Four people," said James, his voice deep and
reassuring.

"That's what I got. James, I might be crazy, but look
at the guy driving that boat."

James didn't answer, but kept following the boat as it
neared. James said, "You're right."

Kyle laughed when he realized it. Apparently more of the
security staff decided to come and visit, or at least one person did, and
brought his family.

Kyle waited as the boat got closed on the fort, its speed
dropping off. The fort sat about forty yards from the mouth of the Cape Fear River,
with marshland between the two. Kyle had wondered how his friend would get
here, try crossing through the marsh or go around the bank and enter from the
ocean side. Kyle saw the decision.

The boat, a fresh water bass boat, pulled further out in
the choppy river and did a 180. Kyle watched his friend push the powerful motor
on the boat, its front end lifting out of the water. In seconds the boat closed
the distance to land and then it slid up the small sand beach and into the
marsh.

Kyle, in awe of what his friend just did, wondered why.  He
scanned and didn't see any diseased in the area. Was he being chased by
something or just ready to get inside the fort? Regardless, Kyle called to
everyone to stand down and go get some dinner. Should be about that time. Abe
and James kept watch, waiting for his friend and three others to dismount the
boat. They slung on some packs and began to trudge through the cold winter
marsh.

Kyle turned his gaze from his friend, using the binoculars
to search the river. A large, red hulled goliath of a ship reminded him of
Jack's report. Kyle spotted the ship out past the river, well into the inlet, a
kilometer off. He lowered his binoculars, not needing them to see the ship; it
was huge. The ship seemed to rise over nine stories above him, though he really
had no idea. Kyle slapped James and pointed, James spun and shouted
instructions at those making their way down the stairs.

Abe bubbled with excitement at the ship. "It's the
first normal thing we've seen since all this happened. Maybe this means things
aren't that bad out there."

Kyle didn't say anything, but he had his doubts. There was
no doubting the fires that raged in Wilmington or the diseased that walked the
land. Maybe this ship had gotten lucky and missed everything. Kyle found that
hard to fathom, they must have heard what was happening on the radios. He
decided they needed to fire the generator up and call them. He soon found out
he didn't need to.

The ship, despite its sized, moved quickly in the river. It
made its way down the middle of the Cape Fear River, the only place deep enough
to support its draft. It was a container ship, meaning it was stacked with
level upon level of containers and seemed to be miles long. The three of them
located the bridge and living quarters near the stern. The ship neared the
fort, still two hundred yards away, but feeling closer due to its size. Kyle
could make out people scrambling on the bridge wing of the ship. He raised his
arm, waving a few times, but dropped it at their reply.

A barrage of explosion reached out from the ship. A gun, a
big gun, sent bullets smashing into the brick wall they were standing on. Kyle
spotted his friends, who'd just reached the bottom of the steps, flatten
themselves on the ground.

  The ship fired again, its staccato rhythm letting Kyle
know it was a .50 caliber machine gun. Kyle, Abe and James all reacted; just
differently. James and Kyle immediately flattened on the wall, pushing
themselves back from the side. Abe, not realizing what it meant, raised his
hand in exclamation and pointed at the ship. "They're shooting at
us!"

"I know that idiot, get down," Kyle yelled over
the sound of bullets impacting the brick wall. Kyle jumped up to his brother,
grabbing his shirt from behind and pulling him down on the wall. Not waiting,
Kyle pushed Abe towards the courtyard, and watched him disappear over the side.
Kyle braced himself, then followed, dropping down onto the unforgiving brick
bottom of the fort. Kyle's head bounced on the bottom, his thoughts scrambled
as everything became blurry. The sound and impact of bullets tearing holes in
the fort kept him conscience, but groggy.

James leaned downed, grabbed Kyle's arm and lifted him back
on his feet. The big man didn't seem fazed by the bullets tearing up the fort
like it was made of paper. Kyle found the rest of this team sitting low next to
the wall, waiting it out and hoping the bullets didn't make it through the
brick.

The firing continued for two or three more minutes, the
bullets eating into the two hundred year old brick. Most of the bullets from
the .50 caliber machine gun hit the outside of the fort, but some made it over
the wall, impacting the far side of the courtyard, thankfully empty now. Kyle
watched the bullets pulverize the bricks, instantly turning them into rubble,
and smoke.

The firing stopped, the ship moving past the fort. Kyle
moved to the bottom of the stairs, starting to ascend to the top, when James
pushed past him. Kyle looked up, annoyed at the big man, who for his part just
ignored Kyle and headed up the stairs. Kyle sighed and followed, stopping when
James reached the lip of the wall. Kyle, anxious to see what happened, moved to
go past but was stopped by James.

"Hold," he said.

"Look James, I appreciate-"

"Okay, it's moved past," said the big man, moving
out of the way. Kyle didn't respond, but followed James up. He walked to the
edge of wall and looked into the river. Almost dark now, Kyle was just able to
see the lights from the cabins and a red tinge coming from the bridge.

"They moved out of range," Kyle said.

"Good thing, almost tore the bloody fort down,"
came the high voice of Edmund. The young brit was on his knees, rubbing his
hand along the side of the fort's wall.

Kyle had to agree. He stuck his head over the side to
examine the walls. Someone provided a red capped flashlight and illuminated the
damage. Pieces of the wall, a foot long and two feet, deep were missing. Chunks
and pieces of red brick lay everywhere, with only mortar dust remaining in the
section targeted.

"What do you think?" asked Patrick, who joined
them on the wall. "A Yankee ship?"

  Kyle laughed at the comment, he couldn't help it, it was
funny. After everything that happened in the last few days, it did seem weird
and that was saying something. Abe laughed beside him, thinking it was funny
also, such a weird guy. Patrick looked between the two, smiled at his comment
and started laughing also. The manic laughter made its way through the group as
they climbed down the steps and into the courtyard.