The Mortis Desolation (Book 1): Mortis Page 5

  “Holy shit,” John hissed.

  “I saw part of it too,” Peter said. The color had yet to return to his face. “It was unreal. I couldn’t believe it. It was like the Xenomortis was recruiting, or ordering, or…I don’t know what. It was insane, though. And the fact that it went into the hardware store with the atras is even worse.”

  John looked at Peter, puzzled. “What does the Xeno going in there mean?”

  Peter gave John a blank look. “I don’t know, John. I have no idea. But whatever it is, it cannot be good. I doubt the Xenomortis was going in there to get an atras body for us.”

  I turned around in my seat and looked out the windshield, watching the town go by as we headed toward the Interstate. To say I didn’t feel good about any of this would be an understatement. There was too much happening at once. Too much change going on, and I couldn’t grasp any of it. I missed the days of simple scout runs, even though those days were just a few ago. I missed shooting the shit with Pike as we drove back from one of those runs.

  But most of all, I missed Ashley.

  The knot in my stomach hurt so much I wanted to cry. But I wouldn’t let myself. I was a leader now. I had to be strong. If I wanted to cry, I’d have to save it until I was alone.

  I couldn’t wait to be alone.

  * * *

  We crossed over the trench's dirt bridge, and Julia parked the van. I got out, and before I could say anything else, my throat dried up and my pulse began pounding.

  We had visitors.

  Two large trucks with gun turrets mounted on the back of them sat parked in a v-formation in front of Jefferson Memorial Bank’s front doors.

  "That doesn't look good," John said.

  I walked as fast as I could to the trucks. Two people stood in the bed of each truck, decked out with body armor and assault rifles.

  "What are you doing here?" I asked, trying my best not to sound defensive. They were the ones with the turrets, after all.

  The one in the truck closest to me smiled, moving the tattoos that covered his neck. "My boss is in there talkin' to yours."

  "About what?" My heartbeat quickened. "Who are you?"

  "We're the Roves, and we're taking over."

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I STORMED into the bank with my two squad mates, Peter, and Daniel behind me. My thoughts were a jumbled mess. I didn't know what to expect when I walked into the cafeteria.

  When I did, though, I couldn't believe what I saw.

  George and the rest of the Founders were having a discussion with the Roves. Not ordering them to leave, not fighting them off, not screaming and arguing, but a discussion.

  "What's going on?" I all but shouted as I got close.

  There were eight of them, seven of us. They stood behind their leader, who was talking to George. He was tall, muscular, and intimidating. His skin was olive, and he looked at me with a charming smile.

  I wasn't fooled, though.

  He was scum. Rove scum.

  "Miles, please, take a moment," George said. "The Roves are making us an offer."

  I looked at him dumbfounded. "An offer?! And you're listening."

  George darted his eyes away. "Yes, Miles."

  "There's really no choice, Miles," the Rove squad leader said to me with a smile.

  I lunged at him, but George jumped in my way and pushed me back. The Roves raised their guns, and Daniel and John pulled me back. Not because they didn't want me to hurt the Rove, but because they didn't want me to get killed in the process.

  "Miles, listen," George said.

  I paid him no attention. I just stared into the eyes of their leader. I felt nothing but hate for him. Pure, unbridled hatred.

  "Listen!" George shouted.

  I turned my eyes away from the Rove and to George. He almost never raised his voice.

  "We don't really have a choice, Miles. We have to cooperate," George said. In his eyes, I could see he was conflicted by his decision.

  "No, we don't," I said. Turned back toward the Roves. "I oughta just kill you all! I outghta just kill every last one of you!”

  One of them took a step toward me, but the leader put a hand on his chest, stopping him.

  "Miles, stop right now. You're not helping," Rachel said from behind George.

  "Miles, my name is Darren," the Rove squad leader said in a voice that oozed with condescension. It infuriated me. "We're not here to bullshit you. Not one bit. If you tried to kill us all, you might succeed. I can tell you're angry. Anger is powerful. You might be able to get the drop on us. However," his face turned threatening, "if we don't report back soon, there'll be a hundred Roves on top of this camp faster then you can blink. Not even twenty angry Miles' could take all of them out." His smile returned. "So, George, why don't you explain to our angry little friend the predicament you're in."

  George sighed and looked at me with sorrowful eyes. "The Roves want our camp. They're willing to rebuild our walls--upgrade them, even—keep us protected, from zombies, Xenomortises, everything. In exchange, they want everything. They'll be in charge. Their people will run it. It'll be like an outpost for them."

  "Why?" I asked.

  "Because," Darren began, "the Roves are growing. We want to expand. Your camp is perfect for us. Good strategic location, you're fortified, and you have tons of supplies."

  I don't think I could've hated him any more. "So we're just going to hand over everything we've built? To the Roves of all people?" I said to George, but it was directed toward everybody.

  "I don't think you're understanding, Miles," Darren said with a smug laugh. He began to walk closer toward me. "If you don't hand it over, we'll take it from you. We'll kill anybody who resists, and those who don't, will be Rove slaves." He stopped just a foot away from me. So close I could deck him hard. "So if you don't shut up," he said. "That's exactly what we're going to do."

  My entire body shook. I wanted to say something. Wanted to do something.

  But I couldn't. Darren won. If I said anything, they'd start killing. I couldn't have the people of Jefferson Memorial's blood on my hands.

  Was this it? Was I giving up?

  I had to. As much as it killed me, I didn't have a choice. I knew Darren wasn't bluffing. The Roves would kill them. I was having a hard time believing they didn't take the bank by force in the first place.

  I looked at the ground, but then decided to look Darren in the eyes. I wanted him to see how much I hated him. "Fine." I wanted to say more, but that's all I could get out.

  Darren smiled. "Good, Miles. Good." He reached out his hand, wanting me to shake it. He was asserting his dominance. Letting me know he'd won.

  I just turned around and walked away.

  He may have won this time, but he'd issued an ultimatum.

  A war was about to begin. A war for Jefferson Memorial. A war against Darren. A war against the Roves.

  That was the first battle.

  And as I walked away, I began to prepare for the next.

  * * *

  Daniel, John, Rachel, Julia, Peter. Those were the five people who stood before me. They had their packs on their shoulders, filled with precious supplies. Things we would need to survive out there.

  “Are you all ready?” I asked them.

  They nodded their heads.

  I let out a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”

  We stood at the back door of the Jefferson Memorial Bank. We stayed close to the wall, and made our way to the edge of the building. I poked my head around the corner, and made sure there were no Roves standing around it. As I expected, there weren’t. There were a lot of zombies to deal with, so most of the Roves were out taking care of them. The only two that weren’t were standing in the back of their trucks, watching the front gate.

  There were still only ten of them at Jefferson, but the cavalry would arrive in the morning. But we’d be long gone by then.

  We dashed under the cover of night toward where all the vehicles were parked. Julia unlo
cked the van with her remote and the lights flashed twice, signaling it’d done as it was told.

  I hissed and held my breath, afraid someone might’ve seen. Nobody did, however, and I scrambled into the passenger seat of the van. Everybody besides me and Julia climbed into the back.

  Julia started the car, and I looked toward the guards in the trucks. They’d heard us, and raised their guns in our direction.

  “Go, Julia, go!” I yelled at Julia as she stomped on the gas.

  The tires spun in the dirt for a second before gaining traction and propelling us forward.

  The guards fired their guns at us, but we were far enough away that most of them missed us. A couple of bullets, however, tore through the side of the van toward the top, creating the most frightening pinging sound I’d ever heard.

  I rolled the window down and fired a couple of bullets behind us, trying to get them to back off. It didn’t matter, though. We were getting away. We shot out the hole in The Wall that the Xenomortis made just a few days before.

  Everybody was made aware of us then. We turned left, our headlights lighting up the darkness. There were a couple of people out there running back from killing zombies in the trench. They dove out of the way of our speeding van and whooped and hollered at us, happy that we were escaping. Some of them even tried chasing after us, but we had no time to stop and pick them up. We’d be back, though, no doubt about it.

  New holes appeared in the left side of the van as the Roves that were up on the parts of The Wall that hadn’t fallen down shot at us.

  Julia weaved and swerved, making it hard to hit us. She turned left, going around another corner of The Wall.

  Up ahead, I could see the dirt bridge in the trench that led to the outside. To freedom.

  We came closer and closer.

  Thirty yards.

  Twenty.

  Fifteen.

  Julia started to turn the steering wheel to the right to line the tires up with the narrow bridge.

  But as she did, one of the bullets from a Rove up on The Wall tore through her arm. It exited her and grazed my leg. I yelled out in pain, but then in fear.

  The van veered toward the trench. Julia tried to get back on track, but she overcorrected. The van flipped across the ground.

  One time.

  Two times.

  Three times.

  Four.

  I was vaguely aware of those in the back grunting and yelling in pain as they were tossed around like rag dolls.

  The van came to a stop. My eyes were closed, but I could tell I was upside down. I opened them, aware of every bit of pain I felt.

  My heart fluttered. We were upside down, alright…in the trench.

  The zombies started banging on the van, desperate to have a taste of the meals inside.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I PULLED my gun to my shoulder, and unleashed a flurry of bullets that exploded through the cracked windshield and tore through the zombies that were trying to make their way inside.

  I unbuckled my seatbelt and fell in a heap to the ground. I flopped over onto my stomach, and looked in the back seat. We weren’t going too fast, so everybody was alive. Daniel and John had huge gashes on their heads, and were bleeding pretty heavily. And from the way Peter’s arm twisted, I could tell it was broken, even though he was too dazed to realize the pain yet. Rachel seemed to be the least hurt, as she was already checking on Daniel’s wounds.

  I turned my attention to Julia, who clutched at her arm as she hung in the air. Her seatbelt dug into her body as it kept her from falling on top of me. Blood seeped from between her fingers, and dripped onto my shirt, absorbing into the fabric. “It’ll be alright, Julia,” I told her. “We’ll get out of here.”

  She mumbled something, but her face was beginning to turn white. She was close to losing consciousness.

  I shot a few more zombies that were getting a little to close for comfort. I turned to the back. Daniel and John almost had their wits about them, but Peter was beginning to feel the pain from his broken arm. “You guys help Julia, I’ll get out and lay down some cover fire.”

  I could hear the Roves shouting and coming our way, but I also became aware of the stomping sounds on the side of the car above us. The zombies began to use our car as a bridge, as well as coming across the dirt-packed bridge that was already there for cars. These two walkways provided enough distraction for the Roves, but it wouldn’t be long until either they, or the zombies, got to us.

  I shot a couple more zombies who laid in the trench, reaching out for us. I used my arms to help push myself forward. I pushed my leg on the seat behind me, but as I put pressure on it, pain coursed through it and I let out a yell. I looked down, remembering that the bullet that shot through Julia grazed my leg. My pants were torn, but the wound was more of a burn from the heat of the bullet then it was a gash. The bullet barely nicked me, but damn did it hurt.

  I gritted my teeth and pushed through the pain. What the zombies and the Roves had in store if they caught us would be a lot worse then a little pain from a bullet. I again pushed my leg on the back of the seat, and ignored the pain that traveled through me. I crawled out of the van, glass tearing into my arms. I grabbed onto a dead zombie, and used it to pull myself out of the van.

  The zombie oozed black blood, and I fought the urge to throw up from the smell. The blood mixed with the dirt creating a disgusting mud that began to cover me. I got off my hands and knees and into a crouching position. I got my gun ready, and peeked over the edge of the trench.

  The Roves were about a hundred and fifty feet away, taking out zombie after zombie. A lot of them were coming now, all the noise and commotion drawing them to the Roves. I didn’t fire my weapon. It was best to let the Roves stay distracted by the zombies, and forget about us for a few seconds so we could get out of there.

  I crawled over the dead zombies and stuck my head into the van. John crawled out just as I did.

  “Alright,” he told Daniel, “I’m ready.”

  He reached in, and hooked his arms under Julia’s armpits. He pulled her out, and Julia cried out in pain.

  A zombie that was walking over the van heard her, and turned to look. I looked up just in time to see the zombie walk off the edge of the van, and land right on top of me.

  He only had two teeth in his rotting mouth, but he was determined to sink them into my flesh. I wrapped my hands around its throat, trying to keep its snapping mouth away from me. I couldn’t even focus on pushing it off me, or reach for any of my weapons. All I could do was keep its mouth away, and let John do the rest.

  I looked behind the zombie at John, just in time to see him grab the zombie around his chest, and pull him back off me.

  Using the butt of my gun, I slammed it into the zombie’s head, bashing its brains in. The zombie went weak, and John threw it aside.

  “We gotta get out of here,” I said, stating the obvious.

  John turned around and helped pull Daniel out. I reached in and grabbed Peter by his unbroken arm. I pulled him out, while he held back a scream of pain the entire time. Rachel crawled out last.

  Once we were all out, it didn’t look good. We were all injured in some way, and we still had to climb out of the trench and get away from the Roves.

  Not wanting to waste any time, I got down next to the side of the trench that led away from Jefferson Memorial and interlaced my fingers, creating a step. “We gotta go, now.”

  Rachel went first, digging her boot into my hand, and pushing herself up and out of the trench. She lay down, and reached into the trench. “Daniel next, so the both of us can pull Julia out,” she said frantically as he looked over her shoulder to make sure no zombies had noticed him. They hadn’t, but it was only a matter of time.

  Daniel grabbed Rachel’s hand and, using my hands as a step, climbed out of the trench in one swift motion.

  I grabbed Julia and pulled her over to me. “You’re gonna have to stand,” I told her.

  She mumbled somethi
ng and nodded. I helped her stand; she put most of her weight on me as she did so. Daniel and Rachel hooked their arms with hers, and pulled her up. She didn’t yell in pain this time, simply because she didn’t have the strength to.

  Peter climbed out next, and once he was out, John went next. He helped pull me out last.

  We all stayed low to the ground, not wanting to be seen by the Roves, who were beginning to thin out the horde of zombies. If we just stood up and ran, not only would we be seen by the Roves, most of whom had night vision goggles, but having to carry Julia would slow us down.

  I came to the horrifying realization that we didn’t have another option. Despite the risk, if we just slowly crawled out, Julia would bleed to death, or the Roves would finish taking care of the zombies, find us, and kill us.

  “We’re going to have to make a break for it,” I whispered loudly in order to be heard over the gunfire.

  John looked at me with fear in his eyes, but Daniel nodded. “John and I will help Julia.”

  I nodded. “Okay. I’ll make sure Peter keeps up.” I turned to Rachel. “You lead the way.”

  She nodded. “If we can just get across the street and behind the Johnny’s, we’ll be fine.”

  I looked out toward the Johnny’s convenience store. There was a tiny field, a two-lane road, and a small parking lot between us and Johnny’s, and we only had the light of the moon to guide us.

  “Okay,” I said as I got up from the ground and crouched. “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I STEPPED through the broken floor-to-ceiling window of the car lot, and scanned the area with the flashlight attached to my gun for any signs of hostiles. My light rid the room of the long shadows caused by the bright moonlight filtering through the broken windows of the long-since-raided building. The showroom had a few desks and tables, but no cars. Two couches sat in the corner around a coffee table and next to an overturned and empty water fountain. Next to the fountain was a door—that led to more offices, I assumed. The door stood there, dark and ominous, and I felt uneasy just thinking about having to go through it to search the rest of the building. It would surely be dark and tight.