Across the camp, the cultists had formed a circle. In the center of it, enormous pyres of firewood had been built. At the heart of each pyre stood wooden posts with people tied to them.
Among them were Tommy battered and bruised and Mr. Howard, his body soaked in blood, two gunshot wounds and several deep knife cuts. Richard's swollen face was frozen in a crooked grin, as if he spat in the face of everything happening around him.
"Listen to me, my children," the preacher proclaimed. "We have survived the end of the world. We reclaimed our home. We cast out the demons. And now only the final abomination remains one that must be cleansed by fire."
He finished his sermon and accepted a torch.
"Pray to God that your sins may be forgiven."
"Go to hell, you fanatical bastard," the old man spat, blood dribbling from his mouth.
"Only pain will bring you to repentance," the preacher replied, lowering the torch to the wood.
The fire began to rise. The first tongues of flame licked at his clothes and skin.
Richard winced as unbearable heat swallowed him. The blaze spread quickly. A bright flame curled along his side, forcing his jaw to clench yet he made no sound, only continued to bore into the preacher with pure hatred.
Beyond the camp, the roar of an approaching engine broke the night then screams.
The preacher turned, confused, trying to understand what was happening.
A storm of bullets tore through the crowd, cutting them down.
"No! No! No!" the preacher screamed in rage.
He had never lost control before. But now, with the end so close with his dream within reach everything was collapsing before his eyes.
************************
We smashed through the checkpoint and burst straight into the camp.
My hands locked on the trigger as I aimed at living people.
I had never killed this many.
My vision went glassy. My arms felt numb, like they didn't belong to me. I had hoped we could just block their vehicle, threaten them with weapons, force them to stand down. But now too much blood had been spilled there would be no calming them.
I buried the last remains of morality and humanity. In the ruins of civilization, the kind do not survive only the ruthless do.
We stopped near two of the posts. One of them was already fully engulfed in flames.
"Move! Get them out!" I shouted, still firing.
Joel sprinted to the back, kicked open the door with a fire extinguisher in his hands, and began dousing the burning pyre.
Panic in the cult's ranks prevented them from organizing any resistance. Everything dissolved into pure chaos.
I heard the door slam behind me. I stopped firing.
Tommy was alive scorched, but unharmed.
Richard… Richard was burned black. His eyes were still open. With burns like that, without a hospital, without a surgeon he was beyond saving.
"No saving me," Richard rasped through charred lips. "End the old man's suffering."
"Rebecca and Brian are safe," I said, drawing my pistol and aiming at him.
"Then I'm at peace," Richard whispered, closing his eyes for the last time.
"This isn't right," Tommy said.
"We can't save him," Joel replied quietly, looking away.
One pull of the trigger and a life was gone.
"We move. Now," I said.
A heavy impact slammed into the side of the armored vehicle. Then another. And another.
"What the hell?" I muttered, climbing up to the turret's observation controls.
Human bodies were throwing themselves against our transport like lunatics.
But they weren't cultists.
"Forward! Move! Infected everywhere!"
Joel hit the gas. The vehicle forced its way through.
I wasn't just seeing a group of infected it was a massive horde, easily over a hundred, and more were still coming. The last time I'd seen a crowd like that was in Pittsburgh, when the military wiped out an entire swarm.
Where the hell did they come from?
Is it true that they can sense living people… and move toward them together?
"I hit something!" Joel shouted.
Bodies slammed into the rear armor. The infected began pounding the vehicle from every side. For now, we were safe but fuel wasn't infinite.
I reloaded, aimed, and opened fire at whatever lay ahead. Bullets shredded anything in our path. We pushed forward, but the wheels began to slip corpses clinging to the chassis, clogging the undercarriage.
"How much fuel left?" I shouted.
"Half tank!" Joel answered.
We couldn't build up speed. Their weight absorbed the momentum, their bodies choking the drive system. But the powerful engine and four-wheel drive kept grinding us forward.
My turret fire carved a narrow corridor through the horde.
**************
th-th-th-th-ttttt
The engine coughed… and died.
The transport rolled to a stop at the edge of the road. Pitch-black darkness swallowed everything around us. Staying inside the vehicle wasn't a bad idea but it wasn't a good one either. We'd put about ten kilometers between ourselves and the infected. Most likely they would give up the chase and start roaming the area, hunting for any living people they could find.
No weapons. No ammo. Nothing.
Finding where Rebecca had gone now was almost impossible. Unless Druzhok found me first and then, with his help, I could find them. But for now, I had gained an ally who might save my life… assuming I lived long enough.
Ellie should be born in about five years, somewhere around Boston. She grew up in the quarantine zone maybe her mother is already there.
"We stay the night here, then what?" Tommy asked.
"I don't know," Joel said.
"We'll rest in the vehicle, then move on in the morning. Though now I don't even know how long the road ahead will take," Tommy said.
"You should avoid the main roads," I warned. "There's a local gang watching almost the entire highway."
"We were thinking of traveling together. It's safer that way, right?" Tommy said, turning to Joel.
"Hm." Joel only winced slightly. Even though I had saved him, he still didn't trust me. The wounds of loss were still fresh on his heart.
"He knows the area. With him, we have a better chance of making it," Tommy added.
After a moment, Joel gave a short nod.
"He's a bit off, but like me, he's grateful for you saving my life. I won't forget it. You're a good shot. Military?" Tommy asked.
"No. Just spent time at a shooting range," I replied.
We talked about nothing in particular. I made one last sweep of the area, then finally fell asleep, weapon clenched beside me.