Chapter Twenty-Four #2
unnerving silence. She looked at Lachlan. She could tell he too
understood the stillness was not a good sign. Forest animals always
fled when greater predators abounded. The group kept up a slow, but
steady pace, methodically working their way from hut to hut.
“Clear,” Veronica said of the next hut.
“Clear,” Ramsay called out from the hut
across from hers.
And on it went. They carefully checked each
and every abandoned home, making certain no infected were
inside.
Lachlan held his sword at the ready.
Veronica nodded at him and checked the next hut. She barely got one
foot inside before a powerful eater picked her up and threw her
down to the ground. Preparing to lunge at her, the thing hissed.
She scrambled to her left side and raised her right foot, the sharp
blade in her boot bottom bursting out.
Her quick reflexes might have saved her, but
Lachlan growled back at the thing and swung his sword before the
eater could lunge. The infected’s head fell from its shoulders,
hitting the ground with a thump.
“’Tis Cameron,” Ramsay gasped. “Look at his
plaid, his face.”
Veronica swallowed roughly as she regained
her footing and stood upright. It was wearing a black and blue kilt
and, when Lachlan used his sword to roll the head on its side, she
saw too that it was Cameron.
“Jesus Christ above,” Lachlan muttered.
His first kill had to be one of his own men?
Veronica winced, feeling sorry for him. At least her first kill had
been a stranger to her.
“We can worry about burning the bodies
later,” Veronica said. “We need—”
“Uh, sis…” Victor cut in.
“—To keep moving. What?”
“Look at what’s coming.”
Veronica squinted and finally saw what
Victor had already surmised. “Fuck. A horde,” she announced.
“I count mayhap seven,” Lachlan quickly shot
back. “We needs must break apart.”
“No don’t.”
“We’ve no other way.”
There was one way, she knew. “Remember what
‘fire in the hole’ means?” Veronica breathed out.
“Aye.” This from all three Scots.
She reached for a grenade, waiting to pull
the pin until the running horde drew nearer to their position.
“Good because ‘fire in the hole!’” She pulled the pin and threw the
grenade as far as she possibly could. All five of their group dove
for the ground, covering their faces as body parts rained down all
around them.
It wasn’t enough. She’d killed four, wounded
two, and one remained unscathed. She aimed her gun at the fastest,
uninjured one and fired a shot. It fell to the ground, dead.
Lachlan and Finn made quick work of the two wounded eaters,
beheading them with their swords. Finn’s kill had been easier as
the eater he took down was missing a leg and hopping on one foot.
It was Lachlan’s that had worried her for his kill was only missing
half an arm. He’d still taken it down quickly and powerfully.
Veronica could hear the horses galloping
away, neighing from fright as they did so. She didn’t espy any
eaters behind them so assumed the scare had been from the grenade’s
detonation. The party of five continued their mile long walk to the
Campbell fortress, checking huts and killing the infected along the
way. The bodies kept stacking up; clearly the Campbells had
suffered great losses.
She saw another eater just ahead. She sighed
when she espied its kilt colors, recognizing them as Gunn right
away. What was once Douglass began running towards them at top
speed. His eerie, blue gaze settled on her, perhaps because she was
in the closest proximity to him. A second horde barreled out of the
forest at the same time, rapidly converging on their group from
behind. Her heartbeat soared. Perspiration broke out on her
forehead. They were trapped.
Lachlan ran toward Douglass with powerful
steam, his teeth gritting as he jumped in the air and raised his
sword. On a war cry, he beheaded his turned soldier in a single
downswing. Veronica swung around and faced the horde. They were too
close for her to throw a grenade. Shit.
“Stay behind me, Victor!” she yelled,
putting her machete in his hands.
He paled, but took the weapon. “Your life
isn’t less important than mine!” he shouted back, charging around
her. “I love you, sis!”
Veronica’s eyes widened as she realized her
brother had put himself between her and a quickly moving horde.
“Victorrrrr!” she screamed.
Everything that came next moved in slow
motion and surreal swiftness at the same time. Finn and Ramsay
raised their swords. Victor raised his small by comparison machete.
She could hear Lachlan running back to the group on a roar, but
doubted he’d make it to them in time. There were nine eaters
charging them. Nine.
Veronica palmed a gun in each hand, trying
to get a clean shot, but couldn’t without putting a bullet through
one of the men. Victor warbled out a war cry of his own as he
stabbed one of the infected through the eye and brain. A second
eater went to the ground and grabbed Victor by the leg.
“Nooooo!” Veronica bellowed, diving for the snowy, muddy
terrain as the eater opened his mouth to take a bite. She shot it
between the eyes as its mouth prepared to clamp down, Victor moving
his leg just enough to stave it off.
Finn and Ramsay took down two eaters,
killing both as they lunged at them. Lachlan jumped into the fray
and beheaded two more on a growl with a single swing of his sword.
At last having a clean shot, Veronica came up on her knees and took
out the remaining three, firing her guns in rapid succession.
Victor bellowed, causing Veronica to pale. She watched in horror as
her brother fell to the ground.
“Victor, no!” she cried out, putting down
the guns and crawling to his body. She hovered over him, her
breathing heavy, trying to see where the bullet had entered. Her
beloved brother was dead. She started crying as she ran her hands
up and down his torso. Where was the fucking blood coming from?
“You shot me in the damned ass, sis,” Victor
rasped. “It hurts like a son of a bitch.”
Her head shot up. She laughed through her
tears as she hugged him. She could feel Lachlan’s big, reassuring
hand on her shoulder. “I thought I’d killed you!”
“Not yet.” He hissed as he turned on his
side in the snow. “Please get that fucking bullet out of me!”
“At least you weren’t bitten!” Veronica told
him, still laughing.
“He’s got an injury to his arse?” Lachlan
murmured.
Veronica finally looked up at her husband.
He was so big and strong and powerful. And he loved her—really and
genuinely risked his life for her. She had been the closest to
Douglass after all. Had Lachlan not intervened…
“Umm, yeah,” she admitted. “I kinda shot my
brother.”
“In. My. Ass.” Victor gritted out. “How am I
supposed to sit down now?”
Lachlan tried not to laugh. “Verra carefully
I’m thinking.”
The group shared a chuckle before Veronica
set to work removing the bullet. Finn handed Veronica her satchel
when she asked for it. Lachlan and Ramsay held Victor down,
pressing his stomach into the snowy mud. She rummaged around inside
the satchel until she found her first aid kit.
She poured alcohol over her hands and his
wound—Victor moaned. She removed the bullet with tweezers—Victor
bellowed. She poured more alcohol onto the wound—Victor whimpered.
She stitched the wound closed with a needle and thread—Victor tried
to thrash around like a fish on a boat so Finn joined the others in
holding him down. Veronica cleaned up the remaining blood with a
clean piece of her cloak then poured more alcohol on the
wound—Victor finally shouted, “Enough!”
The group helped him to his feet, causing
his kilt to fall back into place and brush against his wound. “Oh.
My. GOD,” her brother ground out. Veronica tried not to smile, but
Lachlan, Finn, and Ramsay didn’t even attempt to hide theirs. She
picked up her guns from the snow covered ground and turned on their
safeties. She shoved both weapons into her belt. “Let her shoot one
of you in the ass and see if you’re still smiling then!” Victor
growled. He grumbled a bit more before stating rather dramatically,
“Just get me to the keep.”
As their group neared The Campbell’s
stronghold, exhausted, freezing, and with Victor slung over
Lachlan’s shoulder, the portcullis was raised. Euan stepped outside
it with James. Veronica could see all the uninfected villagers
packed into the courtyard, vying to get a glimpse of their
party.
“We didna ken what should be done once the
icy fever spread and the biting began,” Euan explained. He splayed
his hands. “Praise the saints you did.”
“’Twas a nightmare,” James added. “We had to
leave the bitten to fend for themselves. I will never forget the
sounds of them begging to be let inside. Leastways the cries
stopped once they turned.” He shook his head mournfully. “’Twas a
nightmare in truth.”
“We need food and rest,” Lachlan said,
getting to the point.
Veronica mumbled her agreement. Their
disheveled, tired party had fought hard and suffered the loss of
two Gunns.
“Of course,” James said. “Come inside.”
Their group did just that, Victor still
hanging over Lachlan’s shoulder. “Lower the portcullis,” Lachlan
instructed Euan. “To be safe.”
One of Euan’s white eyebrows shot up. “You
ken there are more?”
“Nay. But until we’ve the energy to burn the
bodies, check for rogue eaters, and round up my horses, ‘tis
best.”
The old laird nodded. “Lower the
portcullis!” Euan shouted up to his men on the wall. “Keep it
lowered until I say otherwise. No exceptions!” He turned to Lachlan
and inclined his head in a definite, if begrudging, show of thanks.
“Let us get you warmed and fed, aye?”
“’Twould be a welcomed boon.”
“Yes,” Veronica added. “Thank you very
much.”
“’Tis I who thanks you, Laird and Lady
Gunn,” Euan uncharacteristically praised. “I canna ken what our
fate would be had you not intervened. The unholy dead were trying
their bedamnedest to breach the portcullis. My men killed several
from the battlements, yet there were many left as you saw.”
“’Tis o’er now,” Lachlan announced. “We
hope.”
“Indeed we do,” Euan agreed.
“We don’t need to hope. It’s really over,”
Veronica predicted. She’d been down this proverbial road a hundred
times before. “They are drawn by sound and scent. If any more were
out there they would have come after us by now.”
“Praise the saints,” the old laird
muttered.
“Aye, praise the saints,” Lachlan
seconded.
“Are you certain we shouldn’t round up the
horses now?” Veronica inquired.
“Not yet,” Lachlan instructed. “Leastways,
they will be fine until the morrow. They are well trained and
shan’t wander o’er far.”
“Hello?!” Victor bellowed, still dangling
from Lachlan’s shoulder. “Remember me? I need a damn bed and some
pain pills!”