The Dark Trilogy (56 page)

The other two stiffs lost interest in the door as they turned to respond to whatever had bashed their cohort’s skull in.

Michael watched in amazement as a blow came down on the head of the soccer mom. Through the smudged and blurred glass, he saw her legs quake then collapse beneath her. The blow was strong and precise, exerted with tremendous force. Someone still breathing was out there.

The third rotter moved out of Michael’s field of vision. The injured man pulled his leg back and leaned on his elbows. He heard a hollow thud and what sounded like a sack of laundry being dumped to the ground.

Still stunned at the sudden change in his situation, Michael inched backwards, his good leg pushing until he was propped up comfortably against the inside doors again.

His mind raced with possibilities as he shrank back against the wall. He knew the odds were not in his favor that whoever was out there would be friendly to him.

Roaring in pain, he tightened his fists as he worked to pull his leg up underneath him. With an agonizing twist of his body, he reached for a door handle and rose to his feet. Shifting until he was leaning against the inner door, Michael hoped that whoever was outside would not immediately realize how banged up he was.

A shadow crossed the door. Michael tensed as he saw a hand reach for the handle. It was impossible to catch a glimpse of who it was past the befouled glass. The door moved inward.

Michael’s mouth moved silently as he attempted to form words. He was shocked. Standing before him was not the person he’d expected.

George stepped into the vestibule, his eyes wide with shock.

Chapter 12

George could barely remember what had happened to him.

The battle with the pack of ghouls had been intense, and he’d been running on pure adrenaline the entire time. The last thing he remembered was breaking free of the crowd and running. His clothing was torn, but he had not been bitten and was able to lead the stiffs on a wild goose chase. It was touch and go for a while, yet he somehow managed to escape. When there was a moment to rest, he realized he was completely lost. Looking for any landmarks that might lead him back to the others, he instead discovered a trail of bodies.

Hearing gunfire up ahead, he ignored it, hoping the beaten bodies of the children next to the truck indicated that someone without a gun, perhaps Ben or Jeff, was responsible for their demise. A little while later, when George saw the two mangled teenagers and heard several stiffs beating on the bank doors, he was certain he’d found one of the other two men. So instead, when he saw the man who had done everything he could to prevent George from getting back to his family, he was livid.

***

“You unbelievable bastard.”

Michael smiled. It helped hide his surprise while he attempted to wrap his head around the fact that the big lummox standing before him was alive.

“George. Now is that any way to say hello to an old friend?”

George glared at him. “You’re no friend of mine. I should kill you where you stand.”

Michael
tsked
and shook his head as his smile widened. The cold fear he felt when he first saw George had shrunk to a manageable lump in the pit of his stomach.

“George, George, George. What good would that do? Look, we’re both big boys here. Time is short. Why don’t you just step aside and let me pass?”

Michael raised his hands to show he was unarmed. “Nothin’ up my sleeves, George. I did all I could to survive until now, but I’m not in real great shape. So why don’t you just let me head out that door and on down the road? I swear you’ll never see me again.”

He watched the hulking figure standing before him, and when George didn’t respond, Michael moved forward, carefully balanced on his good foot. When George shifted to block the exit, Michael stopped, fighting hard to remain standing.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Michael’s eyes widened in anger. He was tired. Tired of dealing with both the living and the dead, and this oversized bastard and his misguided sense of nobility were starting to piss him off.

“So what the fuck are you going to do, George? Are you going to stop me? I’ve had enough bullshit for one day. Enough bullshit for a lifetime. Now get out of my way.”

The hand shot out faster than Michael could see. The flat of George’s palm sent him reeling back into the glass doors. Crying out in pain, Michael lost his balance and fell to the ground.

“You’re going to pay for what you did to us … for what you did to Ray.”

Michael looked up at George, who was now crowding him. The shock of how fast the oversized lump could move was wearing off as anger bleached the pain away.

“Fuck you, old man. The boy was going to die anyway. It was a mercy kill, and you know it. All you weak, whiny bitches wanted to do was waste time crying over him as he turned into one of those things. You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve trying to judge me just because you didn’t have the balls to kill him yourself.”

He spit at George, but the wet glob got no higher than his knee.

“You’re all fucking pathetic. You don’t have a clue what it takes to survive. You just want to cling to how things used to be and how they used to work.” Michael’s eyes were on fire, and he shook with anger. “That ain’t how it is anymore, George! But you’re just too fucking stupid to see the truth. I’m the only one who’s figured it out. Until you morons came along and screwed everything up.”

“I could just kill you.” It sounded like an offer, and Michael’s eyes widened. “Or maybe I should let those poor confused people out there find you, after I snap both of your legs so you can’t get up and leave.” George paused and moved back as he tried to reign in his emotions. “But I’m not going to do that. I’m going to take you back to the others. So we can decide how you should be punished.”

Laughter sputtered out of Michael’s mouth. It lasted a few moments before he looked up and saw the surprise on George’s face. He began to clap. His laughter grew stronger, like the uncontrollable giggles from earlier. It hurt his ribs, but he couldn’t resist the urge to mock the dumb bastard.

Michael knew he had lost his sense of reality. Sanity these days was a very subjective thing. You had to be at least a little bit ‘off’ to still be alive. Very few sane people had lasted past the first week after the dead had risen. But some of the survivors had lost
all
depth perception. That was George. He had no perspective on reality whatsoever.

When he could finally catch his breath and stop laughing, Michael tried to explain things to the puzzled man above him. “I know I said you were pathetic … but I didn’t realize how pathetic. You just don’t get it, do you, George? There isn’t going to be any war crime tribunal, and I’m not going to be sentenced to twenty-five to life, you dumb fuck!”

George grabbed Michael’s shoulders and shook him hard. “You’re the one who’s pathetic, Michael! I don’t give a shit what you think. You’re coming with me to face your punishment.”

Michael’s smile did not fade, despite the strong fingers digging through his jacket and into his skin.

“George, I’m kind of wondering where you plan on taking me. Don’t tell me someone else made it out of that busted-up bus alive? Pretty nifty trick. So where are they now? All shacked up at the Ritz-Carlton?”

George shook Michael again, eliciting a grimace as he snarled. “Shut up! You thought we all died back there, didn’t you? We didn’t! We got out of there in spite of what you did, you fucking coward! We made it out alive!”

Michael gawked at George, his mind swimming. He didn’t think the man was capable of bluffing about something like that, but what he said didn’t make sense. He shook his head.

“I don’t think so, George. Why would you be here alone if everyone else is alive? Why wouldn’t you be with them?”

“Shut up! It doesn’t matter what you think. What does matter is that I’m going to drag you out of here, by your hair if necessary!”

The pain in his back was acute, and the broken ribs were digging deeper into his lungs, but Michael fought through the pain and guessed at what must have happened after he fled the RV with Cindy and Frank.

“You ran away from them, didn’t you, George? You left them all to die somewhere, right? Those things were coming for you, they were closing in-”

George slammed him back again, and Michael’s head hit the glass, leaving his ears ringing. George was yelling at him, a string of curses flying from his mouth, but in his dazed condition, Michael couldn’t quite hear them all.

As George continued his denial about leaving the others behind, Michael’s head began to clear, and his eyes narrowed as he thought of something else.

“Cindy, man! Cindy. Don’t you remember her? My mean-ass bitch of a girlfriend with all the freaky tattoos? She left the RV with Frank and me, but got some wild hair up her ass and decided to turn back.” Michael shifted his head thoughtfully, as if he had just recalled another critical detail. “I think it had something to do with taking care of some unfinished business with you fine upstanding folks.”

George’s mouth opened, shut, and opened again. Michael resisted the temptation to cackle. Instead, he knew he had to slip the knife in just a bit deeper. Twist it around a bit.

“Oh …” Michael took on a look of mock surprise. “So you didn’t see Cindy, huh? Well, she must have met up with the others after you abandoned them. I’m sure you juuust missed her.”

George still looked confused.

“George. George?” Michael snapped his fingers. George had been staring off into space as he tried to sort out what he was being told. “What does that matter anyway? Those people aren’t your responsibility, now are they?” George’s confused look changed slightly. Michael’s words were no longer harsh or snide. They sounded almost sympathetic.

“It really doesn’t matter what Cindy plans on doing to them, does it? What does matter is your family, right?”

The confusion in George’s eyes faded as his jaw clenched. He glared down at his prisoner.

Michael
tsked
again. “It’s a goddamned tragedy when a man can’t take care of his own. All this time spent tending to Jason and Megan when you should have been with your family, not a bunch of fucking worthless refugees. And now they’re probably dead because you fucked up. It’s a downright shame.”

The hands slammed into Michael’s throat before he could react. He brought his knee up, attempting to drive it into George’s groin. It missed as the big man shifted forward, and the blow glanced off of his leg instead. Michael brought his hands up at the same time, grabbing at the meaty paws wrapped around his neck.

He scratched at the tightening hands threatening to crush his windpipe, dragging his fingernails across the skin, leaving deep gouges in it. Michael pushed up on George’s face, scratching him there as well, trying to shove him away. Nothing seemed to work. The hands were too strong, and Michael’s airway was closing off. It was not long before his struggles slowed and spots wavered before his eyes.

Michael had been supremely confident that George was a gutless worm and would crumble when push came to shove, but as he started blacking out, it was painfully and belatedly obvious how wrong he was.

He didn’t feel the hands around his throat relax or the weight of George’s body disappear above him. All Michael knew was that he could breathe again. He coughed violently and sucked in huge gouts of air. The strangling victim’s vision swam back into focus, and he gingerly touched at the bruises around his throat.

When he could finally see clearly again, Michael looked at George, who was leaning against the wall with his face in his hands. He wasn’t quite sure, but he thought the big oaf was crying.

As he tried to breathe normally, or at least what passed for normally with broken ribs and a mangled throat, Michael hissed painfully and shifted his wrecked body. Reaching for the door handle for a third time, he began the arduous task of lifting himself off the ground once again.

He heard the hitching of George’s chest and couldn’t help but smile. The old man didn’t have the guts to kill him, just as he had suspected. The new bruises on his neck stung, though Michael knew he would be able to walk through the bank doors and George wouldn’t do anything more to stop him. The pathetic loser just didn’t have it in him.

Listening, Michael heard no nearby moaning—at least not any more than before. And after all he had been through, he was willing to take his chances outside once again. He’d been given a reprieve and intended to take full advantage of it. Limping over to the outer doors and putting his hands on them, he looked back at George one last time.

“Don’t let it stress you out, man. There are plenty of guys who don’t have the balls to kill someone. That doesn’t make you a pussy.” Michael paused, savoring the moment. “But not taking care of your family ... now that makes you a pussy.”

He turned, his evil grin growing even wider. He was ready to face the world again.

The grin faded as he pushed the doors open, contorting and twisting into a fearful grimace.

Jeff was standing outside with a gun in his hand. Michael stared at the weapon and didn’t recognize it. It was some sort of small semiautomatic.

Michael shook his head in disbelief. Jeff was supposed to be dead. That had been made obvious when it was George who came bursting through the door. Jeff had died back at the RV with all the others. He wasn’t supposed to be here.