22. Taryn
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
TARYN
“Well, what do we have here?” The tallest man said, stopping a few yards away.
“Looks like the latest find of Gideon’s.” A short, red-haired man, whom I believed to be named Peter, came up to his side.
I knew all three were enhanced, and I’d seen them hanging out with Mace and Gage often. Everything had been total chaos when we left, so hopefully they didn’t see Harper and Finley leave with us.
“I’m glad to see you made it out.” Beck stepped in front of me, ignoring the giant covered in blood who was doing the same to Wren.
“Well, hello there, Beck.” The third guy spoke up. “Gideon sent us to find you.”
“Did he really? We’ve only been gone a few hours. No way the town was cleared that fast.” Beck’s voice stayed steady. “And I can’t imagine he’d send you, Wayne.”
“We’ve set up in a warehouse a few miles east of town.” Wayne narrowed his eyes. “Since we lost at least half the population, he promoted me.”
“Who’s this dude?” Peter cut in, eyeing the enormous man standing in front of Wren.
Wren peeked around his torso, her head barely reaching his pecs. “Nobody you want to mess with.”
“Oh, shit! Crazy-ass Wren made it.” Peter started laughing. “Gideon is going to be thrilled that he lost some of his best men, and the nut job made it through with flying colors.”
I could hear a growl, but when I looked down at Max, he was silent.
Was that coming from the behemoth?
“Maybe we can do him the favor of getting rid of her.” Wayne stared at her in contemplation. “Surely, you don’t want to be saddled with the mental patient?” he looked at Beck.
“It’s a damn shame, she used to be something else.” The tall guy leered at Wren. “I remember when she came back from the big city, with her pictures in all the fancy magazines.” He smirked. “Now look at her, nothing but a fucking crazy bitch.”
“I remember you had a thing for her in school, Clark,” Wayne laughed. “And she wouldn’t let you swat flies off her ass.”
“Fuck you, Wayne,” Clark pushed him. “I was the fucking quarterback. I could’ve had her any time I wanted.”
“Sure, you could,” Wayne smirked.
Clark pulled a gun from the back of his waist. “Take that back.”
“What the fuck are you doing?” Wayne’s eyes opened wide. “We’re in the same family group, you moron.”
“I don’t give a fuck.” Clark growled.
Peter took a step toward Clark. “Put the gun down, or I’ll make you. Now’s not the time.”
“Now who’s crazy?” Wren poked her head back out.
Clark fixed his glare on her, and the giant gently pushed Wren back behind him, then turned and narrowed his eyes at Clark.
“Now take it back.” Clark returned his glare to Wayne.
“Take it back,” Preston told Wayne. “You know how he is.”
“Fuck both of you.” Clark leveled the pistol at Wayne.
“I’m not scared of—”
BANG!
The round whistled over Wayne’s head and punched through the wooden cross mounted above the tiny church a small distance from the trailer park.
Silence.
We watched as the splintered cross crashed into the church bell.
BONG…
The deep note rolled through the empty town.
We all stood frozen until Max’s head snapped toward the church. His growl began so low that I almost mistook it for distant thunder.
The giant slowly turned his head, listening intently.
There was a scraping sound. Wood dragging across wood and something heavy shifting inside the building.
The front door trembled.
One.
Two.
Three loud impacts.
Then…
The doors burst open, and the infected stumbled out into the street, led by a priest whose tattered collar still hung around his neck.
“Fuck,” the giant mumbled.
Things were about to get FUBAR, as my dad used to say.
A window shattered in the small post office across the street from the church. Branches snapped in the woods, and several infected emerged from between the trees.
The trailer park was no longer empty. Infected poured out of broken doorways and dark crevices. Some crawled from under the broken-down mobile homes, dragging themselves across the ground, unable to walk because their legs were gone.
Wayne whispered, “Now you’ve done it, Clark. Dealing with you is like trying to pick up a turd by the clean end. Fucking impossible.”
Clark didn’t answer because he knew Wayne was right. He’d just killed us all.
“Clinic!” Beck roared.
I pulled my bat free.
Beck raised his rifle and fired at the first infected coming down the church steps.
Its head snapped back, but the gunshot only drew more movement from every direction.
As I watched the disgusting group of infected approaching, I realized Wren was right. Infected didn’t describe what they’d become.
Rotters was a much better description.
Wren drew her knife. “If we’re going to hang out, I at least need to know your name.” She turned to her new shadow.
“Colson.”
He didn’t tell her to stay behind him. He simply made it impossible for anything to reach her without going through him first.
It looked like my older sister now had a protector. I was happy with the new development. She was kind of growing on me… like a fungus.
Wayne took off running. Peter followed close behind. Clark stayed frozen, the gun hanging limply at his side as he stared at the church.
A rotter lunged from between two trailers.
I swung.
The bat struck its temple with a crack, but my weakened arms failed to put it down. It staggered sideways and came at me again.
Beck buried his knife through its eye, then his hand closed around my upper arm. “You haven’t gotten your full strength back.”
It wasn’t a question.
Another rotter crashed through the post office window.
Then another.
Wayne ran by the building toward the woods when a hand shot through the broken glass and caught the back of his jacket.
His feet left the ground as he was dragged against the wall. “Help me!”
Peter grabbed his wrist and pulled, even as more hands reached through the window. They closed around Wayne’s face, neck, and shoulders.
Even his enhanced strength couldn’t save him now.
His scream tore through the street as teeth sank into his cheek.
Peter released him, but he should’ve done that sooner.
A rotter crawled from beneath the post office steps and bit into Peter’s calf.
He fell hard.
Three more descended on him before he could rise.
Clark finally moved.
He ran toward the trailers, firing wildly behind him. Every shot drew more rotters into his path. One dropped from the roof of a mobile home and landed on his back.
Clark hit the gravel face-first, and the gun skidded from his hand. He rolled over just as the rotter sank its teeth into his face.
His screams ended as the bodies piled over him.
“Move!” Beck shouted.
Wren ran for the clinic, Colson at her back, crushing the skull of a rotter that came too close.
Max raced beside us as I followed, my bat slick in my hands.
Behind us, the street disappeared beneath the dead.
Beck reached the clinic door first, but before he could grab it, Lucas pulled it open, a hatchet already in his hand.
His eyes blew wide when he saw the swarm behind us. “What happened?”
“No time for questions,” Beck yelled. “We have to move!”
Adrian stood near the treatment-room entrance with his pistol drawn. Finley was beside Harper, checking the lines connected to her arm.
Rory sat near the wall. She jumped up the instant she saw Wren and me. “Are the monsters coming?”
Wren ignored her question. “We need to leave!”
Finley’s head snapped up. “She can’t be moved yet.”
A body struck the window by the front door, and the glass shuddered.
Adrian looked past us at the street. “She can’t stay here!”
Finley glanced at Adrian as another body struck the glass. “Give me five minutes.”
I saw a web of cracks spread across it.
“You have thirty seconds, or we’re all dead,” Adrian said, moving to my side to check me for bites. “I won’t risk us getting trapped here.”
“I’m fine,” I said, brushing his hands away. “But we don’t have much time. The entire street is overrun.”
The window exploded inward.
Glass sprayed across the waiting room as a rotter came through headfirst, its arms flailing beneath the remains of a postal uniform.
Lucas met it before it hit the floor.
The blade of his hatchet sank into the back of its skull with a thick crack. Its body went limp, pinning him against the wall. “A little help would be nice.”
Adrian grabbed the rotter by its collar and hauled it backward while Lucas wrenched the hatchet free.
Two more sets of hands reached through the shattered window.
Then three.
The opening filled with grasping fingers and snapping teeth.
“There’s a back exit,” Lucas said urgently. “We need to get there before it’s blocked.”
We ran into the room just as Finley spun toward Harper. “She still has an IV. If we pull it—”
“Then don’t pull it.” Beck slung his rifle over his shoulder and crossed the room. “Tell me how to carry her.”
Finley hesitated for a few moments, but I could see he’d realized we were going… with or without him and Harper.
We heard a rotter slam into the front door. I stuck my head out of the room and looked down the hall to see the deadbolt shudder. It was only a matter of seconds before they all spilled inside.
“Finley!” I shouted. “We have to go!”
He sprang into action.
“Keep her flat.” He grabbed the bag of Lactated Ringer’s from its hook. “Support her head and don’t put pressure on the bite.
Beck slid one arm beneath Harper’s knees and another behind her shoulders.
Rory rushed forward. “Mom?”
Harper didn’t open her eyes as her head rolled against Beck’s chest while he lifted her from the examination table.
I glanced at him in question.
“She’s alive,” Finley said quickly.
“Why isn’t she waking up?” Was my blood working to heal her, or was this all for nothing?
“Because her body needs rest,” Finley explained, frantically filling his pack with anything he thought he might need.
Another impact hit the front door. I glanced back out and saw that the wood around the lock had splintered. “We’re out of time!”
Wren grabbed Rory’s hand. “You’re going to stay with me.”
“I want my mom.” Tears rolled down the little girl's face.
“I know sweet girl, but she’s resting.” Wren gripped Rory’s shoulder. “I’m going to need you to hold on to Max and do exactly what I say. Can you do that?”
Rory’s chin trembled, but she nodded.
Wren turned to Colson. “She’s important to me.”
Colson gave a slow nod. Then he moved behind Rory, becoming a wall at her back.
Adrian swept sealed tubing, bandages, and anything else Finley had missed into his pack.
Lucas grabbed two fluid bags and Finley’s medical kit.
Finley snatched his binder from the counter.
The front door cracked down the middle, and gray fingers curled through the gap.
“It’s now or never!” I shouted, knowing our small window to leave was closing.
“Go!” Beck shouted. “Now!”
Lucas ran down the hallway and shoved through the rear exit.
Sunlight poured into the clinic.
Beyond him stood an overgrown patch of grass, a rusted chain-link fence, and the dark tree-line.
“No vehicles,” he called back. “The parking lot’s cut off.”
That was nothing new. We’d been on foot for months.
“Then we walk,” Adrian said. “It draws less attention anyway.”
Finley stared at him. “Harper is going to be harder to transport that way, and her chance of survival is slim.”
“She definitely won’t survive being eaten,” Adrian said, his face expressionless. “I can’t put Taryn’s safety at risk by lingering here.”
I knew he meant what he said.
I wouldn’t put any of my men in jeopardy either. Except that leaving Rory to die would be a hard line for me. I hoped Finley didn’t realize that.
A section of the front door gave way, and a rotter forced its head through the opening, peeling half its cheek against the jagged wood, its teeth snapping wildly.
Max barked.
“Enough of the bullshit! It’s time to fucking go!” Beck growled, his patience gone.
Lucas went through first, hatchet raised.
Wren pulled Rory through next. Max pressed against the girl’s leg while Colson followed close enough to touch them both.
Beck carried Harper as Finley walked backward in front of him, one hand holding the fluid bag above Harper and the other monitoring the line. “Don’t let her arm drop.”
“I’ve got her.” Beck kept moving.
“If the needle comes out—”
“I said I’ve got her. Now move before you get my woman bit.” Beck was out of shits to give.
Adrian shoved a duffel into my arms, and I nearly dropped it. The weight dragged painfully against my shoulders, and the room swayed around me.
His hand shot out, steadying my elbow. “Fuck. You're still weak from the transfusion.”
“I’m fine.” I heaved the strap of the bag over my shoulder.
Another crash echoed from the waiting room, and the front door collapsed.
Rotters poured through the opening.
“No, you’re not.” Adrian took the bag and pushed me toward the exit. “We can argue later.”
“Get that ass in gear, Fox,” Beck yelled over his shoulder.
I tightened my grip on the bat and followed him.
The first rotter made it into the hallway as I reached the back door. I turned and swung. The bat connected with its jaw. Bone broke beneath the metal, but the impact barely slowed it.
My arms shook.
The rotter staggered into the wall, then came at me again.
Adrian stabbed it in the temple and threw the rotter on the floor. “Out.”
I stumbled through the doorway.
Lucas had already forced a gap in the fence where rust had weakened the metal. Wren shoved Rory through first.
Colson bent the chain link wider with both hands until the supports screamed. “Go!”
Wren ducked through the opening, even as Rory and Max raced toward the trees behind Lucas.
Beck passed Harper carefully through the gap while Finley fought to keep the IV line from snagging.
The clinic windows shattered behind us, and rotters spilled onto the grass. Some fell as they climbed through, only to crawl after us on broken limbs.
“They’re coming!” Wren shouted. “Hurry, Robin!”
We ran… or everyone else did.
I made it ten yards before my legs threatened to fold.
Beck looked back. “Taryn!”
Was this how I ended?