“You stay right where you are unless you want to join these two.” Marcus gestured toward Jeff and Ray. Jeff had finished with the tourniquet and was whispering something to the injured boy. The tears were still coming, but Ray appeared to have calmed down.
George froze in place, his hands elevated for Marcus to see. He could hear moans cascading off the buildings surrounding them, and his eyes darted toward the street. He spotted a pack of ghouls only a few blocks away. It was not clear how many there were, but their ranks were swelling as more crawled out of the shadows to join their rotting brethren. George suppressed a shiver at the sight of the monster leading the pack dragging a ruined foot behind it as it trudged forward with dogged persistence.
The shotgun swung back toward Jeff when Marcus seemed satisfied that George wouldn’t give him any more trouble. He took a step forward.
Jeff stood and could see the smile of anticipation on Marcus’s face.
“So what’s it going to be, hotshot? I’m gonna give you one last chance to realize Ray is already dead.” Marcus paused for effect. “We don’t have much time to screw around, so you better hurry up.”
The reedy man’s expression changed momentarily as he looked past Jeff toward the boy propped against the building. His voice dropped low, and his grin disappeared.
“It’s a mercy killing. Don’t you realize that? Or are you just stupid?”
“Just go. Leave him behind with me,” Jeff said, his mind already made up as to what he was going to do. It was suicide, but he was beyond caring. “Take Teddy and George back to camp, and I’ll watch over Ray.”
Marcus squinted at Jeff and looked confused for a moment. He appeared to be mulling over the offer, and Jeff’s hopes rose. They were dashed, however, when Marcus shook his head.
“Can’t leave you behind. You’ll probably dump him somewhere along the way and then lead the stiffs back to us. I can’t have that.”
“I won’t lead them back, I promise. We’ll find a place to hide out. Some building… maybe a house. I won’t lead them back. I swear to God.”
Marcus shook his head again as he raised the shotgun. “God?” he snarled. “Why the hell do you think I give a shit if you swear to God?” He moved forward another step, pushing Jeff closer to the wall. “Take a good look around, you stupid asshole. Do you really think there’s a God?” Marcus laughed contemptuously and gripped the shotgun tighter to his shoulder as he took aim. “I can’t say it’s been a pleasure knowing ya-”
“Drop the gun, Marcus.”
Jeff’s eyes, which had been closing in fear, popped back open in time to see Marcus raising his head from the sights on the shotgun. He turned, allowing Jeff to see that George had picked up Teddy’s rifle and was pointing it at the hick.
Michael’s flunky did not look surprised. He backed up, the shotgun still pointed at Jeff.
“I mean it! Drop the shotgun, now!”
As Marcus moved back a few more steps, Jeff could see George clearly. He had the other man dead to rights, the rifle pointed at Marcus’s chest. Jeff could also tell that his friend was shaking like a leaf. Apparently Marcus could see that as well.
“Now why in the world would I do something stupid like that, George?” Marcus asked, backing away from Jeff. George backed up as well, and Marcus grinned again. The shotgun dropped a few inches, but was still pointed toward Jeff.
“I said drop the shotgun. I don’t want to have to shoot you.”
A full-on belly laugh burst forth from Marcus’s gut. He leaned forward and spat on the ground and then proceeded to dig the remaining tobacco out of his mouth. After shaking away the brown residue from his finger, he turned toward George.
“You know something, George? I don’t want you to have to shoot me either.” Marcus inched closer to the big man, but George stood his ground.
“Stop moving, damn it! I will shoot you if you don’t drop the shotgun!”
Marcus stopped where he was. He had turned his back completely on Jeff and Ray and was now toe to toe with George. His hand rose in a placating gesture, but the other remained wrapped around the trigger of the shotgun. His smiled widened, and all his darkly stained teeth were on display for George to see.
“Marcus, please, I don’t want-”
“Don’t want to what?” Marcus squinted at George, waiting, as he moved the shotgun into position. “You don’t have the stones to do anything to me, George, you pathetic piece of shit.”
The big man’s eyes were glued to the shotgun, his hands quavering on the old Springfield rifle. Marcus shook his head in contempt as he took aim at George.
Jeff jumped, the explosion causing him to nearly trip over his own feet. He closed his eyes and dove to the ground. As he did, there was another explosion, much like the first. He covered his head, not sure who was shooting, but knowing for certain that he did not want to get caught in some sort of crossfire.
When the third shot came, Jeff realized it had come from behind him. He tried to get back up, but his legs felt like jelly. He lifted his hands off his face and looked in front of him. Marcus was face down on the asphalt, blood running out of his body in tiny rivers, the result of three holes in his back. Beyond him was George, standing stock still, eyes bulging, rifle still in his hands.
Jeff rolled over and looked back at the wall of the general store. Ray had moved slightly so he could fire around Jeff with the Beretta. The barrel was smoking, and the teen looked prepared to fire another round into Marcus if he got back up. While everyone else was paying attention to Marcus and George, Ray had been busy reloading his gun.
Ray looked at Jeff and spoke quietly. “I got the bastard.”
There was bitterness in the words, and his pale lips were pulled back in a snarl. It was as if all his pain and fear had disappeared, replaced by rage.
The next sound Jeff heard was the rifle clattering to the ground. He swung back around and saw George staring at Marcus’s body. Jeff also saw that Teddy was looking on in awe at his friend. He still looked wobbly, a clenched fist held over his gut where Marcus had kicked him, but he was getting up to move toward Ray.
“George? George!” Jeff said as he climbed to his feet. “Are you okay?”
Jeff felt like slapping the other man, but George was snapping out of his daze, his eyes blinking furiously.
“I couldn’t… ” George paused, still trying to get his wits about him. He had a look of despair on his face. “God forgive me, but I couldn’t do it.”
Jeff touched his friend’s shoulder gently. “It’s okay, man. You distracted that prick long enough… ” He hesitated, not willing to finish the sentence. The sound of moaning, growing even louder, could be heard in the background. “But now it’s time to go.”
George nodded dully, a haunted look in his eyes. He reached down and ignored the rifle, picking up the bag filled with supplies from the store instead.
Jeff tightened his jaw and swallowed hard. Turning, he moved to Marcus’s cooling corpse and took a deep breath. Grabbing the dead man’s sweat-stained shirt, he rolled him over to gain access to Marcus’s front pants pockets. He ignored the man’s staring eyes and the ragged holes in his chest as he went about the task of searching for shotgun shells. He reached into a bulging pocket and pulled out several rounds for the Mossberg pump-action. Stuffing them in his pants pocket, Jeff grabbed the shotgun and looked at Ray.
Teddy was kneeling next to him, talking. Jeff walked up and gave them a few seconds before he spoke.
“We have to get out of here, guys.” They both looked up. Ray held the Beretta in his lap, as if he were too tired to lift it. Teddy looked star struck, as if Ray had become larger than life. Jeff brought his hand down on Teddy’s shoulder.
“Why don’t you go get your rifle? I need to talk to Ray for a second.” Teddy hesitated. He did not look so sure about leaving his friend, but Ray nodded, and the other boy relaxed and got up, moving toward George.