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

  "What's going on?" he asked. He thought it was Eric, but all his senses weren't firing; he didn't get much sleep. "And what time is it?"

  "It’s Eric. We got a problem at the front gate, hurry," he said and walked back out the open door.

  Kyle wanted to ask for more information, but Eric was gone. He finished lacing his boots, looked at Abe sleeping across the room from him and asked, "You hear?"

  "Yeah," came a mumbled response. "I'm right behind you."

  "Okay, don't forget your rifle," Kyle said as he leaned over and grabbed his rifle and gun belt.

  "Don't need you to remind me what I need," replied his grumpy brother. Kyle smiled and headed out the door.

  Dark shadows covered the inside of the fort, making it a treacherous walk. It was still night, but the sky's pink and orange morning glow slipped over the walls, providing enough light to place his feet safely. He reached the top of the wall, and noticed Eric and James standing near the edge, both looking into the distance.

  "Okay, what's going on?"

  James pointed into the void, where the main road led to the fort. "Over there, you can see them coming down the road."

  Kyle looked at the road, squinting to focus his unwashed morning eyes and saw three people running towards them. “Diseased” flashed through his mind, but these people were holding hands, or at least two of them were. To clarify the answer in his mind, he could see the people constantly turning and looking over their shoulders. Not diseased. Behind the three of them, back a hundred yards or so, Kyle recognized the outlines of dark stumbling forms. Diseased. A lot of them.

  "We going to help them?" Eric asked, rubbing his hand through his black, pirate-like beard. Eric grew hair faster than anyone Kyle had ever known, and was making no attempt to stop the dwarf-like beard.

  "Of course," Kyle said, irritated at the question. "But how? I don't want to open the gates, if we don't have to. Could they climb a rope?"

  "How would I know that?" Eric answered, equally irritated over the question. Macon didn’t have many morning people.

  "Okay, we just have to open the gate quickly, and then be prepared to slam it shut. They have diseased right on their tale and we're going to have to deal with them. James, we're going to need everyone awake and up here. When you wake Patrick, have him and Jasmine start bringing all the loaded magazines up here. Eric, get Edmund, and get ready to open and shut the door quickly. We can't have it open more than a few seconds. If the diseased get in here..."

  Eric nodded his head."I know, we'll get it done."

  Kyle held up a hand to stop Eric, "Also, go check on your uncle. See if he's alright. If he's okay, get him up here also."

  "You sure about that?" asked Eric hesitantly. Old Ben had been bitten and even though he hadn't turned in over two days, some people were still scared about it. Eric didn't blame them, but it was his uncle and he wanted Old Ben loose.

  Kyle turned and looked at the diseased getting closer. "Yeah, we're going to need everyone we can get. If he hasn't turned by now, I don't think he will."

  "Gotcha," said Eric and headed for the stairs, his rifle bobbing on his back. James had already gone. As Eric ungracefully hurried down the stairs, Abe passed him and joined Kyle on the wall.

  Abe looked at the land surrounding the fort. "The fires spread everywhere last night. It almost looks like a sunrise doesn't it"

  Kyle looked again, his breath stopped when he realized what he thought was a beautiful sunrise, was actually civilization burning. He didn't have time for more depressing thoughts, the three people were getting closer.

  ***

  "Eric, you ready down there?" asked Kyle through the radio he'd clipped onto his vest. They fired up the small generator in order to power the radios. It ate a lot of their precious fuel, but it couldn't be helped, they needed the radios. The noise didn't matter; the diseased were coming their way anyways, and Kyle needed to be able to talk to Eric quickly and efficiently.

  "Yeah, we're all set down here, just give us the word and we'll open it. We have it unlocked and cracked," came the answer. Kyle hadn't liked the idea of already cracking the door, but it was so heavy, it took three of them to unseal it. They needed to fix that. Add it to the list.

  "Copy that, we're ready. I'll let you know," Kyle said.

  "Copy that."

  Standing next to Kyle were Abe and James, who stood about five feet on either side. Farther down was Patrick and, Old Ben, whose white hair made him look like a q-tip walking around. Jasmine had helped Patrick bring up over ten cans of loaded magazines, which were spread among everyone. She'd gone back down to be with the kids, but kept a radio on, in case they needed her.

  Kyle squeezed the receiver, the button clicking. "Okay everybody, we're going to get those people in here quickly, and then take care of the diseased following them. If they come across the bridge, take them out. Remember, head shots. The ones closest are our first priority, let the others fall in the moat if you have to, we can worry about them later. Eric, get those people in Old Ben's cell right away, don't give them a choice, they might be infected. Okay, count off."

  "XR-1 copy." "XR-2 copies …"

  They kept their call signs, just like at the plant, to keep things easy and familiar. It worked well and they needed easy right now.

  Kyle watched the people get closer, their running frantic and uncontrolled. A man began to wave his arm in the air, his actions desperate, though he held onto one of his companions. Kyle figured they either must have seen them, or were playing a big gamble.

  "They see us," Kyle shouted, "start picking off the closest diseased."

  "Eric, they're about 20 yards out."

  "Copy, 20 yards."

  Kyle let go of the radio, picked up his AR-15 and aimed at the diseased closest to the survivors. He focused the red dot of his EO-tech weapon's sight and steadied himself. He pulled the trigger and the gun's piercing boom traveled across the landscape. Nothing. Kyle cursed and took a knee. He took his time, placing the red dot on a diseased, pulled the trigger and was satisfied to see the diseased drop to the ground. Two shots, not bad.

  Kyle turned, about to tell people to take a knee, but noticed them already assuming a prone position. Smart. The unnatural quiet of the fort vanished as six rifles exploded in the quiet morning. Kyle cringed at the sound, should have brought ear plugs. He didn't' find another target, but watched the survivors get within ten yards of the fort. He could see them screaming something, but the guns kept their voices from him.

  "Eric, open the gate," he said loudly over the radio. He put his ear close to the receiver to make sure he was heard.

  "Copy that. Opening."

  Kyle dropped the receiver and watched the three people go under the wall, losing sight of them. He looked up to find the diseased, always steadfast in their pursuit, within fifteen yards of the front doors.

  He cursed, picked up his rifle and added his fire to the others. He kept his face six inches from the red dot, which allowed him to aim accurately, but also to see the bigger picture, and the bigger picture was getting bad quickly. Besides the few dozen that were close, hundreds stumbled their way down the road towards the fort.

  "Keep firing, I'm going to go check on the gate," Kyle yelled to those next to him. Without waiting for an acknowledgement, Kyle ran down the stairs, almost falling on the narrow steps. At the bottom, he turned around and headed for the large wooden door that stood open under the wall.

  Kyle saw the last of the people squeeze through the crack they'd made. "Close it, close it," he yelled as he sped to a stop next to Eric.

  "All in, closing," Eric said, and slammed his body at the door. Edmund followed the example of Eric, and added his ridiculously small body weight to the door. The door didn't move, so Kyle joined the other two in trying to push it closed. Nothing. The three struggled pushing the door, it moved an inch and then got lodged. They still had three inches to go.

  Finally, Kyle stepped back and looked through the crack. He moved hi
s face closer to get a look when a diseased slammed against the door, it's gray, bloody face smashing into one hundred and fifty year old, solid wood. Kyle jumped, almost falling, at the unexpected appearance of the diseased. He recovered as the diseased reached a hand through the crack, trying to squeeze through. The diseased stopped when it was smashed into the door by the diseased that had followed him. The crack in the door filled with the diseased, their snapping teeth and screeching becoming frenzied at the sight of prey. Only inches kept them from gaining entry into the fort.

  Kyle knew they couldn't win this way, the sheer weight of them would be enough to swing the door open, and then there would be no stopping them. Kyle, coming up with an idea, yelled at Eric and Edmund to keep pushing, and flew back up the stairs, to the firing still going on. Guns were being tilted at an angle to shoot the diseased on the bridge, but it was too late now. The bridge was full and getting more so by the minute.

  "Hold your fire," Kyle screamed, slapping a few of them on the backs as he walked behind them. "Everyone, get down to the front gate and push until it's closed. The infected will be distracted in a few minutes and that'll be your chance. You can't let it open or we're all dead. Go!"

  The group turned and headed for the stairs, some throwing questioning glances as they went down. Kyle couldn't help but notice how small the group was and hoped everyone would be around in a few hours. He grabbed James as the big man made to follow, and pulled him aside.

  "I need your help. You need to lower me down into the moat and then pull me back out on the other side."

  James, eyes dark and stoic, looked at Kyle like he spoke another language. "You what? You can't go down there. They're going to drop down there any minute."

  "That's the point man," said Kyle. There was no time, even now the door could be being pushed open. "We need to distract them, so we can push the door closed. There's too much weight on it now, there are more of them than us. We don't do this, it's all over. Don't worry, I'm not sacrificing myself, this should go off relevantly easy." He hoped.

  James wasn't convinced, but recognized the urgency in the situation. He nodded and followed Kyle to the edge of the inner wall, taking a rope Kyle had picked up.

  The increase of moans and growls hastened Kyle to action, if not fear, but he focused on the getting down to the bottom. After that, he could run scared, yelling the whole way. James wrapped the rope around his waist and shoulders, braced himself and nodded. Kyle took the slack out of the rope and leaned back over the edge, putting all his weight on his friend. The inner wall stood twenty feet high from the bottom of the moat, but Kyle repelled down like a squirrel. He saw the ground nearing him and jumped the last few feet, landing on the frozen ground.

  Kyle let go of the rope and turned to see a diseased fall off the bridge, scream all the way down and land ten feet from him. Kyle, having left his rifle on the wall, pulled out his 9MM berretta and shot the thing in the head, before it could stand up.

  "It's now or never," Kyle said, and began yelling and waving his hands to get the attention of the diseased above. He was about to shoot a few of them, when he was seen and they started dropping over the side. The first few hit the same spot, crashing into each other, making it easy for Kyle to dispatch them, without getting too close.

  More of them began to hit the ground, their bodies bouncing off the three he'd already killed. Kyle took a good position, stance solid, and waited for a good shot. It took a few seconds for the diseased to get coordinated enough to chase their prey. This continued for over a minute, in which Kyle killed ten of them. Kyle ejected his magazine, inserted a new one, and racked the slide. He watched as seven diseased stumbled off together, all crashing limbs and howls. It was getting busy.

  Time to go. Kyle took a step back, toe first, right into a small hole, lodging the toes inside. Kyle, heart racing, looked down and tried to straighten out his tangled foot. Freed, he pushed off and stood back up ready to go, but fell again when a diseased male ran into him.

  Kyle kept his wits, barely, and pushed the male's head to the ground before he could recover. Kyle never saw his face, but he had short hair, covered in ash and dirt. The man's clothes, coated in ash, hid any color that once belonged to them. The man didn't rise, but used his hands to reach for Kyle, clutching his shirt with skinless fingers.

  Black and crispy hands pulled at Kyle, yanking him toward the man. The man's burns went all the way up his arms, his shirt having melted into the skin. Kyle kept the man's head pushed into the dirt, between his legs, and tried to shimmy back. His hold on the man's head became weaker until Kyle pushed it one last time, and slid backwards to regain his feet. In the confusion of the struggle, Kyle had dropped the beretta, which he now noticed was a few feet away. Without thinking, Kyle kicked the man in the chest(more like the stomach, as he wasn't that flexible), and the man was thrown backwards a few feet. Kyle dashed in and grabbed the gun, only taking his eyes off the diseased for a second to do so.

  Gun in hand, Kyle back stepped, making sure his feet were well planted. He couldn't afford to fall again; he'd gotten lucky that time. He pulled his pistol up, taking aim at crispy, when its head exploded, sending pieces of skull flying around the moat. The man crumpled to the ground. Kyle found James at the top of the wall, rifle aimed in his general direction. He hadn't realized it, but James had been dispatching the diseased as they got close to him, giving him enough time to fight his way out of the situation. Good man.

  Kyle nodded to James, making a mental note to thank him later, then started yelling again, trying once more to draw attention from the door. It worked. Dozens dropped like sacks of wheat over the side of the bridge, took a few seconds to get up, and then headed towards him. Kyle couldn't tell how many were still on the bridge, but knew he had to move. He backed up twelve feet, yelled, took a few shots and started to move again. He heard James yelling, his voice jerking Kyle up. "Behind you!"

  Kyle gave a quick glance, afraid to look away from those in front, but what he saw behind him almost froze him. Somehow, they'd gotten behind him, or fallen somewhere else; they swarmed in the moat. Twelve diseased, all burnt black, were closing on him. The moat didn't seem big anymore.

  Kyle took a breath, and calmed his nerves. He'd have to run between them. Kyle took off and ran like he was on fire. He moved ten feet before he pivoted to the left, between two that were coming from opposite sides. He didn't have time to stop and shoot, and aiming a pistol on the run was only for the movies. Kyle's adrenalin surged through him, almost making his body seem like it wasn't his. He needed to think.

  He twisted and ran parallel to the curving wall, keeping beside it for a few seconds before the diseased followed him. He then darted back to the other side and copied the same movement. He'd made it past half, before his luck ran out.

  Planning to charge through a few of them, he sprinted, but stumbled when a diseased tripped and fell on the ground. It took both of them by surprise. Having just jumped forward again, Kyle took flight and landed face first on the ground.

  He made a strange cry, the air rushing from his lungs. He fought down the dreaded feeling of not being able to breathe, closed down his panic and began to suck air in.

  Kyle decided he'd done enough and had recovered enough to move, but the man he'd fallen over grabbed his leg. Kyle jerked his limb forward, and the diseased's grip slid down his leg, until he latched onto Kyle's boot. Kyle jerked again, but the guy wasn't letting go. He fell to the ground, losing his balance on one foot, but jumped back up, almost falling again, when his boot was released, the diseased thumping to the ground.

  James! Kyle didn't look, didn't have time. He turned over on the ground and, on all fours, scrambled forward like a kid in a crab game. He felt them surrounding him, their hands reaching, trying to catch him.

  Kyle could smell them, burnt and rancid, it made him want to gag. He tried to keep his movements jerky, rough, anything to keep the diseased from catching a hold, but now it was all he could do to move. Finally, h
e saw a clear space ahead, room to stand up. He regained his feet and took off. He started running before he was all the way up.

  The way in front was clear and Kyle sprinted forward, moving along the outside of the wall so he could better see what was coming around the curve of the moat. With no beretta, he clicked his gun belt release and let it drop. He could get it later; if he made it. It didn't take Kyle long to come to the backside of the fort, its wall looking identical to the front. He saw James and someone else on the wall moving with him. James waved his hands, gesturing for him to come over. Kyle ran towards them, not able to keep from looking behind him.

  Kyle made it to the rope, its feel in his hands was the like the elixir of life. He started to climb, desperate to be out of the moat, when he heard the instruction to walk up the side. He rearranged his body and waited for them to start pulling. Before he had time to begin walking, the rope was pulling him up the side of the brick wall, and he tilted his body backwards in order to walk up. It was the longest vertical walk of his life.

  Chapter 2

  Kyle made it to the top of the wall, not letting go of the rope until he was a few feet from the edge. He dropped to the ground, his body needing a minute to recover. His legs shook, almost uncontrollable. His heart felt like it belonged in an Olympian god, it was beating so fast. He loved and hated this feeling, but he knew it kept him alive when the shit hit the fan. He leaned forward, over his knees and sucked in air. He felt his stomach about to give and tried to calm himself, taking deep breaths. His heart slowed, his body calming and he felt a hand on his back, but not rushing him.

  He spent another minute sucking air into his nose and breathing out of mouth. It worked. Kyle felt his heart slowing more, the feeling return to his limbs. He sat back on his butt and looked up at James and Patrick.They were looking down, one with concern, one with a retarded smile. Kyle raised a questioning eyebrow at Patrick and the man smiled, then burst out laughing. "That was Awesome!"