Crusade (Eden Book 2) (20 page)
Read Crusade (Eden Book 2) Online
Authors: Tony Monchinski
The body went limp in his hands and he let it fall to the ground. He stooped and found his Glock. He wiped the snow from it and stared out into the darkness. Nothing. He left the body and circled back around to the other side of the camp. If the four of them were coming they’d have split up and would attack the camp from opposite sides.
Bear waited in the dark where he could see the campfire and the three people sleeping around it but no one could see him. Why would John Book have sent L.A. all by himself? Even if they had planned a coordinated attack… Bear realized there was no coordinated attack coming. He waited in the dark and watched the camp, realizing L.A.’s body was out there somewhere in the dark where he had left it.
With the coming of dawn, Bear saw Buddy seated on his log by the fire much as he had been the night before. How had he gotten back to the fire without Bear seeing him? Satisfied they were as safe as they were going to be, he trudged over to the fire. Mickey, Gwen and Julie lay in their sleeping bags. Mickey had a troubled look in his sleep, a frown on his face.
“Bear.”
“Buddy.”
He breathed out. Buddy was a mess. His hands and the blade of the bayonet he gripped were caked with dried blood. The sleeves of his leather jacket were slick with more blood. The man sat there on the log, somewhat coherent, arms resting on his knees.
“What happened?” he asked, but he knew.
Buddy rubbed his finger on the wheel of the Zippo lighter.
“Oh….” Bear sighed. He went to his backpack and opened it, digging around inside until he found the container of handi-wipes.
“Gotta clean you up,” he squatted down next to Buddy, “before the others wake up. We don’t want them to see this.”
He took one of his blood stained hands in his own, removed the bayonet from it, and started rubbing his fingers and palm with the wipes.
“Bear,” he said. “Thanks.”
His one good eye looked into Buddy’s and he was sure the man was there today, unlike yesterday.
“Yeah. You’re welcome.”
He was apparently “with it” enough that when he volunteered to walk point no one protested. The day was cold and grey and the landscape around them was stark and dead.
“Did we do the right thing?” Gwen asked the question Julie was thinking.
“What do you mean?” Mickey asked.
“I mean, we were freaked out by those people last night, by—”
“You’re talking about the other day?” Mickey said. “That compound or whatever it was?”
“Yeah.”
“They had people crucified outside their gate,” Mickey said it gently. He wasn’t looking for an argument.
“Maybe they were zombies?” Julie asked and Gwen looked at her gratefully.
Bear shook his head. “They weren’t zombies. Zombies were gathered around the crosses. That meant those people on those crosses were human beings. That guy on that cross, he was alive. He was human. Like us.”
“Maybe they were bad men,” Julie said.
“Bad men.” Mickey mulled it over. “Like Graham. Like Markowski.” He would have added
like Diaz
but didn’t out of respect to Julie.
“Yeah,” Julie said. “Maybe they were.”
“Well, look what happened to
them
,” Mickey said. “They’re dead.”
“Because Buddy killed them,” as she said it, Gwen looked ahead at the big man with the saddle bags plowing his way through the snow.
“Because they were evil men,” Bear said. “I would have done the same. I should have done the same. The point is, Buddy killed them, but he didn’t crucify them.”
“We blew their gate,” Julie said. “We let all those zombies in there.”
“
Buddy
blew the gate,” Gwen whispered.
“Listen,” Mickey said. “If we plan on ‘repopulating’ the earth or whatever, what kind of people do you want on it? I don’t mean you, Julie or Gwen. I mean
you
in general. Do we want assholes? Assholes that crucify their own kind?”
“What did Buddy do to those people last night?” Gwen asked Bear. “When we woke up you were cleaning him off.”
“I don’t know and I don’t want to know.” Mickey looked away.
“They were going to hurt Julie.”
“Do we really know that for sure?” Gwen said. “No offense Julie.”
She nodded. “That woman…”
“Gwen, come on. You can’t doubt that now, do you?” Mickey asked.
“I’m just saying I think maybe we acted too hastily, blowing the gate back there. Those people…”
“That fucker John Book got into your head, Gwen!”
“No he hasn’t.”
“Yes he has.”
“I know you are,” Julie said, “but what am I” and they all had to laugh, even Bear.
She licked her upper lip. “That guy with one hand, he was kind of quiet. He wasn’t like the others…”
“We’ll never know,” Mickey said.
Gwen spoke, “What the hell is going on with Buddy?”
“He’s sick,” Julie said.
Mickey thought of himself, of the plague, the scabs spreading across his torso, across his body.
“He’s dangerous,” Gwen said.
“Not to us,” Julie said.
“We don’t know that.”
“He almost killed you, Mickey,” Gwen said.
He had nothing to say to that.
“Don’t worry about Buddy,” Bear said. “I’ll take care of him.”
“He looks okay today,” Julie said.
“I bet if we just stopped he’d keep walking,” Gwen said. “I bet he wouldn’t even miss us.”
“Buddy came back for us. He came back for you and Bobby and Harris and me and the baby—”
“Yeah, I know that, but…”
“No, Gwen. No
buts
. And please don’t get me all excited. You know, early labor and all that?”
“He doesn’t look so good right now,” Mickey said, grateful to get his mind off the disease eating away at his body.
Buddy had stopped ahead of them and was sitting in the snow.
“Oh great,” Gwen said.
The four men and women reached him and stood around him.
“Buddy?” Bear asked.
His eyes were open but they had no idea what he was seeing.
“Well?” Gwen asked.
“He looked good this morning,” Mickey said.
Bear thought about what Buddy had told him back in that house a few days ago.
“Mickey, grab his bags. Gwen, take his rifle.”
“What are you going to do? Carry him?”
“Yeah.”
Bear adjusted his packs and gear to free up some room.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Gwen said. “Come on.”
“I am.” Bear knelt on one knee in front of the man. “Buddy? Buddy. I’m going to help you man.”
He mumbled something unintelligible.
“I can’t leave you here, brother.”
He grabbed him by the front of his leather jacket and pulled him up, leaning his shoulder into Buddy’s waist, standing up with him.
“How far do you really think you can get with him like that?” Gwen said.
“Let’s walk,” Julie said.
“Suit yourselves.” Gwen sounded disgusted but slung Buddy’s AK over her shoulder and raised her own M16A4, moving past Mickey and Julie to the front.
The digital watch he wore beeped and Steve woke up in the RV. He fumbled with the tiny buttons on the side of the watch and groaned but the watch kept beeping. Finally he slammed his wrist against the mattress three or four times and the watch went quiet.
“Shit,” he muttered. Steve reached up and parted the shades with a finger. Sunlight peeked in at him and he groaned. A half empty bottle of whisky lay on the pillow next to him. “Hello darlin’.”
There were flies on the window, which meant there were dead people probably pressed up against the side of their RV. Always the fuckin’ flies.
Steve sat up. He scratched the back of his neck then reached inside his boxer shorts and rummaged around behind his balls. He yawned. He could hear a few faint engines outside already.
Farrah smiled down on him from the wall above the bed.
“Wake up,” Brent called from up front. “I’m going over to Bob’s for a few.”
“Hey, yeah, look man, Mason gave me back your DVDs. He wants to borrow some more.”
“Hook him up,” called Brent.
“He wants some Asian shit. We got anything good?”
“What’s he like? We got some bukkake vids, some schoolgirl shit. Hey, you know what? Give him that Japanese enema video.”
“
Give
it to him?”
“Yeah, I been meanin’ to get rid of it. That shit’s nasty, no pun intended. See you later. Hey, wake Chris up why don’t you? He’s gotta drive today.”
After a few minutes Steve got out of bed and pulled his jeans and socks on and his boots over his socks. He took off his Cookie Monster t-shirt and pulled on another shirt that said “What happens at Grandmas Stays at Grandmas.” He shrugged into his shoulder rig and secured his Beretta Model 93-R under his arm.
Steve walked up to the front of the trailer. Chris was passed out on the couch. He shook his head. Brent had made a pot of coffee so he filled a Styrofoam cup.
“Hey, Chris. Wake up.”
Chris snored louder.
“Wake the fuck up, man.”
He muttered something in his sleep and rolled over.
Steve put a booted foot on his shoulder and shoved him a couple of times until the man stirred. “All right-all right-all right. What the fuck?”
“Wake up. You driving.”
“I’m driving.”
“Right. Wake up and crank this bitch up.”
“Yeah-yeah-yeah.”
“Yeah.” Steve took an M-16 down off the gun rack near the door. He popped the magazine, inspected it, slid it back home and pulled the bolt back. He checked the safety. It was on.
“Hey, Chris, you like rap music, right?”
“Some.”
“You remember that song,
I’m not a playa I just fuck a lot
?”
“You mean by Big Punisher?”
“Shit.”
He sipped his coffee and opened the door to the outside.
It was early morning. There was activity around the camp as people went about their business, securing their rides, preparing for the day’s convoy.
“Steve!” one of the three little kids—he couldn’t be sure if it was Stymie, Buckwheat or Farina—called out to him, passing by holding his mother’s hand.
“Morning,” he called back loud enough for the kid and his mother to hear, then under his breath, “you little pecker head.”