Open Roads (19 page)

Holly reached the door first, the three men cutting the distance down as quick as they could.

The first gunshot went off as Holly pointed the light toward the oncoming creatures. One of them had gotten too close for comfort, and she fired off another round, sending the thing to the ground with a snarl. She opened the door, bringing in natural light.

“Hurry,” she yelled, firing off a third shot.

The three men made it to the door, and when they were outside, Will pulled away, and both men fell to the ground. He withdrew his pistol, turned, and fired through the door.

“Come on!” he shouted to Holly.

Holly turned and came outside, just as one of the creatures lunged at her. Will aimed the gun past her, and put a bullet into the thing’s head. He went to pull the door shut and it slammed on one of the creature’s hands.

“Shit!”

He went to shoot the hand, but dropped his gun from his trembling grip. Will stood at an angle, where Holly couldn’t get a shot off, so he drew his knife from his side. With a thunderous cry, he drove the sharp tip of the knife down into the thing’s hand. With no apparent sense of pain, the strike didn’t seem to faze the creature. Will stabbed again, and again, carving away flesh with each blow, until the thing’s hand finally disappeared. Will managed to get the door shut just as another hand was about to wedge it open. He fell to the ground, his back against the door, and breathed heavy.

“Holy shit,” Charlie said, working to catch his own breath. He rolled onto his back, his stomach rising and falling.

Will jumped when the creatures inside began to bang against the door. He knew from experience that they’d have to open the door on accident in order to get outside without breaking the door down. Either way, their time was short.

Lying on his side and clutching his stomach with one hand, the priest gasped for air. His other hand comforted the wound on his leg. Will hurried to his side, and rolled the man onto his stomach. The priest's pupils had turned pale, and he gurgled as he breathed.

"Back there, you said 'demon'," Will said. "Do you know about the possessions?"

"Possessions?" the priest mumbled.

Will rolled up his shirt sleeve, revealing his wounds. "I was bitten, and the only reason I survived was because a man, a preacher like yourself, performed some sort of an exorcism on me. He drew a demon out of me. That's what's infecting these things."

The man's fading eyes went wide.

"That's why we came here," Will continued. "To try and find some answers in one of the books in there."

“Oh my,” the man said. “H-h-he was right.”

Will narrowed his eyes. “Who? Who was right?”

“Y-You.” The priest coughed. It went on for a time, and Will thought he would lose the man before he could speak again. But the man found his breath and was able to stop coughing. “You must travel to Roanoke. There, you will meet a man. His name is Philip. Father Philip Bartman. Tell him Father Bryant sent you. He will have the answers you seek.”

“How do you know he’s still alive?” Will asked.

“He will be,” Father Bryant said. “He has been waiting.”

“Waiting for what? Where will we find him?” Will asked. He had so many questions. Far more questions than he had time. Father Bryant reached out and grabbed onto Will’s arm, wrapping it with a blood-stained handprint.

“P-p-please. Do not let me turn. Promise me that you will not let me turn.”

“Wait,” Will said.

The priest used what felt like all his remaining strength to squeeze Will’s arm and repeated himself. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” Will mumbled. He looked back to Holly, who had tears in her eyes. Charlie stood just behind her, listening in close. He glanced back down to the preacher and took his hand. “
We
promise.”

Father Bryant forced his mouth into a small grin. Then his head fell to the side, eyes wide open, and he was gone.

The creatures continued to bang at the door. Charlie looked around the corner to the front of the building.

“More of those things coming out of the front door,” Charlie said. “We’ve gotta go.”

Will looked back to Holly and said, “Go to the truck. Both of you. Get it started.” He then refocused his attention on Father Bryant as Holly’s crying faded toward the SUV.

“I’m not sure how much more of this I can take,” Will said, speaking low to himself. “This much death. This much killing.” He pulled out his knife, its blade still covered in blood from the beast’s hand on the door. He pressed the tip of the knife against the preacher’s temple.

“Forgive me, Lord.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

They headed back to the cabins with more than enough daylight left. They’d anticipated being at the church much longer, looking through books. If there was one thing Will had been taught over and over again over the last couple of weeks, though, it had been that life was unpredictable.

“We’re going, aren’t we?” Holly said, speaking of Roanoke and the man that Father Bryant had told them about.

“I don’t know,” Will said.

"I can see it in your eyes that you want to go," Holly said.

Holly sat in the back seat, and Will turned to face her.

How can we not go?” Will asked.

"We decided to stay at the camp so we wouldn't have to do this kinda stuff any longer," Holly said. "Now, you're talking about driving to another state. This trip was one thing, being only a couple of hours. But Virginia would keep us out for more than a day."

"Guys," Charlie said. "We don't have to make any decisions now, right? Let's just cool off and think about it later."

Sighing, Will turned back and watched the scenery outside pass by. They drove through a rural area, nothing but pasture and billboards every way that he looked. Holly had read him correctly in thinking that he wanted to seek out the priest in Roanoke. Will had died, which was something that, no matter how hard she tried, Holly just couldn't understand. And for whatever reason, he'd been saved. Was he part of some bigger plan? Or was it just dumb fucking luck that he'd happened to have been around Samuel when he’d been bit? Without thinking much of it, he rubbed the wounds on his arm over his shirt. It had become a sort of habit, and he'd do it without being fully aware that he was doing so.

For now, all he really wanted was to get back to the campground. He wanted to eat and he wanted to sleep.

The decision on Roanoke could wait.

***

From the moment they reached the exit to the cabins, something didn't feel right. It was almost as if trouble lurked in the air, and Will inhaled it. He'd remained quiet for the duration of the trip, ever since he and Holly had had a short argument. She'd stayed quiet, as well, sitting in the back seat with her arms crossed.

Charlie turned onto the road that led up the mountain to the cabins, and everything looked just as it had when they’d left. Will laughed in his mind at his own paranoia. He still needed sleep, but now, with the possible impending trip to Roanoke, he wasn’t sure if he’d get a break at all. If they were going to make the trip, they’d need to just go. What if Father Bartman was there now, but planning his own exit? Or, what if they got there, and he’d suffered the same fate as the preacher from the library? They couldn’t afford to wait.

“What the
—
” Charlie said.

Will looked up and wiped his eyes, having almost faded off to sleep. When they were clear, he saw the smoke on the horizon. It rose from the exact spot that the cabins were located. Holly leaned in between the front seats, getting her own look at the hazy skyline.

“Larry or someone must’ve started a fire pit outside,” Holly said.

Charlie shook his head. “No, we never start them this early. It’s the middle of the afternoon and it’s not even that chilly outside. We usually get the fire going about half an hour before the sun starts to go down. This isn’t right.”

Will could see in Charlie’s eyes that something was wrong. He felt the vehicle accelerate. The engine whined. Will wanted to urge Charlie to slow down and be careful, worried that he may be losing his intuition, but instead, Will turned to Holly.

“Check our arms and make sure they’re loaded. Hand me my rifle once you’re done.”

Will reached to his side and drew his sidearm. He checked the clip, assuring himself that it was full. He could hear the clicking in the back seat of Holly checking their other guns, and after a moment, she handed Will the rifle, and extra ammunition for both it and his sidearm.
He
was looking down, quadruple checking his gear, when the vehicle came to a stop. Holly gasped, sounding as if her hand had covered her mouth.

Will looked up.

Larry and Marie’s cabin was on fire.

***

What looked to be about fifteen Empties, at minimum, loitered around the courtyard.

Will looked over to Charlie in the driver’s seat, whose face had gone blank. Charlie stared up at the cabins, his hands gripping the wheel tight. Just as Will was about to try and snap Charlie out of it, Charlie’s eyes narrowed into anger, and he slammed his foot down onto the gas. Will’s head jerked back into the headrest, and Charlie used every ounce of the V8 engine to race toward the creatures.

“Slow down!” Will yelled.

But Charlie seemed to blank out all the noise around him. He ignored Will, and kept the truck aimed like a weapon at the Empties. Charlie wasn’t going to stop. Will only hoped that none of the other survivors were trapped among the horde, what with the truck coming toward it like a bullet.

“Shit! Hold on!” Will yelled back to Holly.

Charlie screamed.

The truck barreled into the horde like a bowling bowl rolling a perfect strike. Countless creatures bounced off the hood and the windshield. The glass cracked, and Will put his hands up, as if that would protect him if any of the Empties came through the thick windshield.

Charlie slammed on the breaks, and the car’s tires fishtailed in the gravel. It came to a stop near the playground, and Will saw another small horde near the woods, heading toward the camp. He looked toward the courtyard. The truck had taken out the majority of that group, but about seven Empties still stood.

“Come on!” Will shouted. He opened the door and stepped out of the truck. He put the rifle to his shoulder, aimed at the first Empty in the courtyard, and fired. He missed the one he had been aiming at, instead sending a round into the chest of one of the undead beings behind it.

“Charlie!”

Will looked back inside the truck to see Holly reaching into the front seat, trying to hand Charlie a gun. Charlie wouldn’t accept it, a dazed look of shock on his face as he stared off ahead.

Will raced around the front end of the car and swung open Charlie’s door.

“Charlie, snap the fuck out of it! We need you!”

Charlie sat there, his mouth wide open, staring off into the woods, apparently looking past the oncoming group of Empties.

Will turned and aimed his rifle toward the horde coming from the woods.

“Holly,” Will shouted, “I need you!” He fired, missing his target again and sending the bullet sailing past the entire group.

Holly opened the door and jumped out of the truck. Will looked back inside, and Charlie was looking toward him. The second gunshot, sounding off near Charlie’s head, must’ve snapped him out of his trance. Will reached into the truck and grabbed Charlie by the collar.

“I need you,” Will said. “If you want
any
chance of saving these people, get your ass out here and fight.”

Charlie hesitantly nodded. He then reached onto the passenger seat and grabbed the gun Holly had left for him. He stepped out of the truck, and aimed at the horde coming out of the woods.

"Stay with him," Will told Holly. He hurried to the other side of the truck, and took aim at the group of Empties in the courtyard. They had closed the distance halfway on the truck, allowing Will a much better chance of hitting his targets. He took aim, and fired.

Will took down two of the creatures before he was forced to reload again. Every time one of the beasts fell, it was almost as if the others became more motivated to get to him.

"Talk to me," Will said, reloading his rifle and stepping back toward the truck. "How're y'all doing?"